#maybe teresa? i love her

[lovelydrusilla]

patrick jane's pro tip: don't let a little murder investigation prevent you from driving your crush around, making sure she knows you like it, getting food together and staring deeply into her eyes

[vorkerax]

for Irene being my favorite character I have barely drawn her

time to change that

[jeridandridge]

On Your Side

Melissa Schemmenti x Reader based off of these prompts: “Please don’t lie to me again, I can’t take it.” And “Go with me?” “As long as you hold my hand.” Kinda ooc Melissa? BFFs Melissa and Jacob.

If Melissa had known how her week would start she would’ve stayed on the couch with you on Sunday instead of hosting family dinner. The day starts just as it always does, you curled up behind the redhead with your arm wrapped around her in a comforting hold lazily moving your fingers up and down the soft skin of her stomach.

“I have to get up, Amore.” Melissa hums through a stretch turning to face you.

Meeting green eyes and a freckle dusted nose you crane your neck kissing the tip of her nose making her smile. “You sure I can’t talk you into canceling and staying in this nice, comfy bed with me all day?”

Melissa laughs pecking your lips. “I love the sound of that. But you know how my mom is.”

As if right on cue, a knock comes from the bedroom door with a frantic Jacob on the other side.

“Mel Mel! I scrubbed the living room, dusted the plastic, and wiped down the china cabinet. We’re on schedule!”

“I do love that kid.” Melissa whispers with an adoring smile, playing with your hair as she lifts her head.

“Thanks, Jacob! I’ll be out in a minute!”

Sighing contently you close your eyes for a moment longer enjoying the warmth of the space you two share. “I suppose I’ll let you go.” You joke shifting to sit up.

“You’re comin’ back tonight right?” Melissa asks as she gets out of bed, milky skin on full display in the morning sun rays.

“Of course. Maybe I can get some lesson planning done without Venus herself distracting me for a few hours.”

“I didn’t hear you complaining last night,” the redhead tosses a wicked grin over her shoulder.

Leaving Melissa’s house with a kiss, you don’t think anything of the family get together as you get chores and work done at home. You’ve been together for about six months, but Melissa wasn’t ready to subject you to a family dinner just yet. Hours later, Melissa is baking to death in the kitchen while Jacob runs around like the energizer bunny entertaining the Schemmenti family.

“Melissa, there’s a guy here.” Jacob whips around the corner in frantic fashion.

“Yeah, my cousins and uncles are out there. Lots of guys around.”

“No, Melissa. your mother invited a guy over here. To see you.”

Melissa looks at the young teacher confused, taking the dish towel off of her shoulder as she moves through the door to the noisy dining room. The cousins are sat around munching, the uncles are yelling at their sons, and Teresa is smiling at a tall man with dark hair that Melissa hasn’t seen since her own wedding.

“Ma, you didn’t tell me to set an extra plate.” She huffs over the noise. “Hey, Nathan. Good to see ya.”

“Hey, Mel. I didn’t mean to crash, your mom called me up the other day.” Nathan chuckles, a bottle of wine in hand offering it out.

“Don’t worry about it,” Melissa gives a friendly smile taking the bottle putting it with the others on the table.

As everyone settles at the table and digs into their plates, Melissa soon realizes why her mom invited an old friend over.

“Melissa, Nathan is single you know.” The older woman smiles.

“Oh yeah? Ya know, you’d like my boss at Abbott. She’s- something.” She chuckles not thinking anything of the comment until she sees Kristen Marie shoot their mother a look.

“I invited him here for you, silly.” Teresa shoots back sipping her wine.

Nathan looks confused, Melissa looks angry, and Jacob looks like he’s just seen the devil himself.

“Ma, don’t start with me.” Melissa rolls her eyes, the family now eerily quiet at the table as the redhead brushes the comment off. “Jacob, how’s the garlic bread?”

And that was the end of that. Until everyone but Teresa and Kristen Marie leave the house. Nathan left apologizing to Melissa, now the redhead has to deal with the matriarch of the family. Cleaning the table of dishes Jacob keeps his head down trying to keep his attention elsewhere as the three women stand in the kitchen.

“What the hell was that, ma?” Melissa demands crossing her arms. Had she done this as a child, she most definitely would have been swatted with the wooden spoon.

“What? I was only trying to help you, Melissa.” She shrugs continuing to wash a pan.

Kristen Marie sips more wine, eyes going back and forth between the two like watching a tennis match.

“Help me with what? Make my dinner uncomfortable for no reason?” Melissa quirks a brow not backing down.

“Is it so bad I want my daughter to settle down again?”

“Ma!” She finally snaps. “I am settled down, you know I have a girlfriend.”

“Oh Melissa, come on. When you get out of your midlife crisis you’ll want to settle down properly.”

Kristen Marie opens her mouth but before she can say anything Jacob comes into the kitchen moving to stand between Melissa and Teresa. The redhead stands in what can only be described as shock, knowing that no matter what she won’t make her mother happy.

“Alright, I know I’m not a blood relative but I consider Melissa and I friends,” he glances over his shoulder at his older mentor, “and I can’t have you disrespecting her decisions in her own house. I hate confrontation and I kinda want to puke right now but I can’t listen to it anymore.” He rambles in Jacob like fashion.

This stuns the matriarch, rendering her speechless glaring daggers at the man.

“Pipsqueak is right.” Kristen Marie cuts in. “I like the girl, she’s the only one of Melly’s conquests that can keep up with my wit.”

“Woah, maybe don’t call her a ‘conquest’ of all the titles out there.” Melissa finally speaks, giving her a thankful look only her little sister can understand.

“Well, we’ll see how long this lasts.” Teresa sighs. “Kristen Marie, let’s go.”

With a soft look from her sister and the adrenaline rushing through her veins Melissa breaks as soon as the front door closes.

“Melissa, I’m sorry if I-“ Jacob begins, only to be cut off by a hug.

“Thanks, kid.” Melissa fight back tears as her hands rest on his back in a soft hug.

Stiffening for only a moment, Jacob returns the hug with a small smile on his lips.

“Anytime, Mel Mel.”

Melissa pulls back glaring at him. “Stop callin me that. And, let’s not mention this to anyone okay?”

Smiling, Jacob nods and heads for the doorway. “You got it, Mel Mel.”

That night when you return back to Melissa’s you find yourself back in her bed like earlier that morning. tv volume on low as you run your fingers through her hair you wonder what happened at dinner. As soon as you walked into the house, Melissa was extra affectionate hardly letting you out of her sight for the rest of the evening.

Giggling when you feel soft lips against your neck you smile to yourself. “Maybe I should spend all day at my place more often if cuddly Melissa is who I get when I come back.”

“Hell no,” Melissa huffs against your neck playfully nipping.

“Oh,” you laugh tipping your head back into your pillow. “Careful, Schemmenti. You know I like that a little too much.”

“Mmmh.” She hums kissing the spot she just nipped. “I love you.”

Your stomach flips hearing her words just like it did the first time she said them. “Ti amo Tesoro.” You whisper kissing her head pulling her impossibly closer.

Monday morning comes all too fast for your liking. Years of being a teacher and it still catches you off guard, often times drinking enough caffeine to fuel a horse before eight am. That morning is no different. Sitting at your usual table with Barbara and Melissa, you sip from your mug getting a jump start on grading for the day as the others have lively conversations about their weekend.

“Mel, do you have that skill building program email on your phone still?” You lean over resting your head on her shoulder.

“Here, Amore.” She hands her phone over freely going back to papers.

Sitting up straight you find the email you need, looking at the device curiously when you see a text notification from Kristen Marie.

Im sorry about Ma. Did you tell your girl?

Schooling your features you send the email to yourself and hand the phone back.

“Did something happen to your mom?” You ask worried, not wanting to miss anything in Melissa’s life.

Melissa’s head snaps up, glasses going to the tip of her nose. “No, why ya ask?”

“Kristen Marie texted you,” you shrug. You feel bad for wanting to snoop, but the way the text was worded has you worried. “She’s okay?”

“Yeah, hon. She’s okay.” She brushes it off giving you a soft smile.

“Okay,” you let it go for now, knowing it’ll be better to bring up tonight after work.

Throughout the day the thought nags at you, sitting in the back of your mind like an annoying fly buzzing by your ear. What would Melissa have to tell you? During your prep period, you realize you can’t take it anymore. Going down to the first floor you pass Jacob in the hallway.

“Hey, did something happen yesterday at Melissa’s?” You ask him, only to shake your head and walk away when he looks like a deer caught in the headlights.

Shoes stomping down the hall you find Melissa at her desk, her kids gone for a special.

“Okay, something’s bothering me.” You admit as you close the classroom door.

Melissa sighs setting her phone down. “About the text from Kristen Marie?”

“Yes.” You nod putting your hands in your pockets. “And on the way down here I ran into Jacob. The kid looked terrified. So what happened?” You ask once again, almost annoyed now. “We said when this started we would keep no secrets.”

Melissa stands up, moving to take your hands in hers. Fingers laced together you gently squeeze hoping the tremble you feel is nothing. The redhead sighs meeting your eyes.

“Ma invited a family friend over yesterday, a guy I’ve known since middle school. She thought it was a good idea to play matchmaker.”

Hearing her explanation, you take a breath trying to gather your thoughts as you pull your hands away. “Your mom tried to get you a hookup, and you didn’t think to tell me when I came over last night? That’s why you were so touchy feely?” The realization hits you.

“Amore, I didn’t think it was important. You know how ma is.” She sighs watching you, unable to read you for once.

Running your hand through your hair you look up at the tile ceiling. You’ve been officially together for six months after a year of flirting and skirting around each other. Maybe Melissa was bored now. “I need some space to think.”

“Hon, I didn’t-“ Melissa steps forward.

“Stop. I just heard my girlfriend, who has a history of cheating by the way, was set up with a guy by her mother and she didn’t think to tell me.” You huff trying to keep yourself composed. You were still at work even if you were hurt. “I need some time, Melissa.”

She gives you a nod, mouth agape as if to say something but no words come out. She knows she fucked up. You disappear for the rest of the day, only reappearing in her line of vision when you’re walking down the hall car keys in hand after the kids have gone.

“Hon,” Melissa calls, following you out the doors.

“Melissa, I told you what I needed. Please respect it.” You all but plead with her trying to keep the interaction short and quiet.

“Will you at least text me when you get home? Please?”

“Yeah, I will.” You nod not wanting to argue any further.

Standing on the steps Melissa holds her bags watching you drive off, going the opposite direction to your apartment.

“Girl, what was that all about?” Barbara finally comes out seeing the look on her friend’s face after hanging back.

“She- I did somethin wrong, Barb, and I have to fix it.”

Barbara rests a hand on her friends arm realizing how serious this could be just by how upset she looks.

“That girl loves you. whatever it is, make it right.”

If you wanted space, that’s what Melissa will do. In the early days of your relationship you’d spend a day or two at her place, then go back home. Now she’s spoiled. She’s gotten so used to you being in the house, your coffee mug in the cabinet, toothbrush in her bathroom, and a plethora of hoodies in her closet including one draped over the back of the couch that you deemed ‘The tv watching hoodie.’

Sitting at home that night Melissa flicks through the tv channels aimlessly, only stopping when Jacob sits next to her.

“How bad was it?” He asks cautiously.

The redhead lets out a humorless laugh. “Bad enough.” She shrugs adjusting the sleeve of the hoodie she stole from you months ago.

“Maybe if you admit you thought it was for the best and explain how it went, maybe she’ll understand.”

“I sorta did, kid. Didn’t work.”

Jacob hums letting Melissa have the time she needs in comfortable silence.

“She brought up my past ya know? That hurt, that she thinks I’d ever cheat on her.” She hums.

Jacob has been roommates with the redhead for a while now, but he’s never seen her like this. Small, nervous. So unlike herself.

“You know,” he starts, “when I came out, I was already in a relationship. Having to hide it, caring about what my parents thought, it ate away at me. Having everyone at Abbott, my brother, it made all the hard times worth it.” He gently smiles. “If you want your mom to respect you, maybe it’s time you bring her around.”

Melissa signs tipping her head back. She knows he’s right. “Dammit, Jacob.” She sighs getting up, grabbing her shoes and purse. In the car she takes a breath, trying not to work herself up on the short drive to your apartment. She may or may not blow a few stop signs along the way, but she can’t wait any longer. Before she realizes it Melissa is standing in the hallway of your apartment building waiting.

Opening the door you poke your head out first before opening it all the way. “Melissa what the hell? It’s ten o’clock.”

“I know. But I need to talk to you. Please, hon.”

Reluctantly, you nod your head gesturing for her to come in. “You coulda called me you know.”

“Like you would’ve answered.” Melissa scoffs playfully setting her stuff down. You had definitely settled in for the night, take out on the counter in the kitchen and a blanket on the couch.

You shrug with a smirk. “Maybe on the 4th or 5th try.”

“I uh, I wanted to say I’m sorry. For not telling you about Nathan. He’s an old friend is all, and apparently my mother thought it was a good idea.” She explains herself. “I know keepin it from you wasn’t the right choice now. But I’d never, ever hurt you like that, Amore.” She shakes her head realizing just how small she sounds. “I did some stupid things back in the day, but not now. Never to you. You’re it for me.”

Arms crossed you stand there listening, arms falling to your sides when she finishes. You can see the tears welling in her eyes and how she’s playing with the sleeves of the Eagles hoodie she’s wearing. A tell tale sign of discomfort. Outside of her eyeliner and leather jacket, she’s vulnerable.

“Mel,” you sigh opening your arms for her. She immediately pulls you into a warm embrace, arms looped around your neck and a content sigh leaving her lips. Rubbing her back in slow circles you stay in the bubble of warmth for a moment, speaking quietly. “You know I’ll always be on your side. Please don’t lie to me again. I can’t take it.”

“Never. It did more harm than good. If my ma doesn’t like that im happy and in love, you won’t have to ever see her.” She promises squeezing you tightly. Lifting her head she seals her promise with a kiss.

A week later, you wake up on Sunday to the redhead playing with your hair.

“Go with me, test the waters?” She hums quietly.

Giving her a tired smile you lean over kissing her nose.

“Only if you hold my hand.”

[jointherebellion215]

Birdie

John "Bucky" Egan x female!reader

Summary: A rare night out in London has Bucky coming to terms with his feelings for you.

Word Count: 2.9k

Tags: mechanic!reader, songbird!reader, female!reader, she/her pronouns used, drinking culture, cursing, mutual pining, moderate bouts of denial, insecurities, women supporting women because it's what we deserve, let's pretend that The Old Therebefore is an ancient Appalachian folk song in this universe, maybe she's a Mary Sue idgaf, I just wanted to write something happy so LET ME LIVE, WWII era, there's no Y/N but reader has the nickname "Birdie"

A/N: Yeah, I'm obsessed with Masters of the Air. I had to write something for my mans before the creative procrastination literally killed me. Please leave a like, comment, or even a reblog if you're so inclined :)

You can read my OC version of this story on AO3!

Songs Mentioned in This Fic:

Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy by The Andrews Sisters

G.I. Jive by Johnny Mercer

The Ole Therebefore (Accapella) by Rachel Zegler

Disclaimer: I own nothing. This story and any recognizably named characters are based solely on dramatic portrayals of the characters from the series, not the real individuals they represent. All the respect to the actual service people who fought and died in the Second World War. Also, don't copy my writing without explicit permission. That includes you, you AI sonuvabitch.

Your heels clicked on the cobblestone streets, turning into the pub you’d heard so much about. You were out celebrating a very rare weekend off. The Brass had somehow allowed you and twenty other mechanics from base two days leave, so you took advantage of the opportunity and headed straight to London.

Your two best girlfriends from base were with you. Teresa was one of the toughest nurses you’d ever come across. She could give you a wide grin, crinkles around her hazel eyes, and reset a broken bone without breaking a sweat. It helps that she was already working towards becoming a nurse back in New Mexico, the war just sped along that process. You had bonded over your love of books, giving each other recommendations almost weekly.

You’d met Irene on the boat to England. She puked on your shoes almost thirty minutes exactly after leaving the port in New York. You gave a small grin, offering her a handkerchief and a piece of ginger candy and the rest was history. Finding out that she was a fellow mechanic was the icing on the cake. Coming in at a whopping five foot two, the spritely blonde could easily be found in a crowd with her loud Appalachian accent.

It seemed almost like fate for the three of you to have found each other. Being some of the few women on base naturally made you close, but you were closer with Irene and Teresa than any of the others. That’s not to say that you weren’t friends with any of the men, because you were. Friendly. 

All three of you were dressed to the nines, in contradiction to your everyday work wear. You all got ready together in your hotel room, giggling while you applied makeup here, spritzed some perfume there. You all felt confident and were ready to have a good time. You spotted some familiar faces and made your way over towards them, your friends linked arm-in-arm with you. Lemmons was the first to greet you.

Of the fifty men on the ground crew, Sgt. Ken Lemmons was the most welcoming of them all. From the get-go, he didn’t care if you were a man or woman. He just wanted to know that you were capable. You were sure he had to go through some hazing because of his age, which probably changed his perspective on gatekeeping the job. This made earning and maintaining respect a lot easier for the women on your crew. We all came over with the same goal, it was better for all if we just helped each other out.

“Hey Birdie! Nice to see you out and about.”

Ah, the famed nickname. You tend to hum and sing under your breath when elbow-deep in a project. It helps you pass the time and clear your mind. Of course, the rest of the ground crew quickly caught on to this habit of yours, which quickly earned you the nickname “Birdie”. You, of course, never sing solo in public, so this confuses anyone who’s not around you while you’re working. But the name stuck, so here you are. Birdie.

Chairs are quickly cleared for you and your friends, which you all graciously take. You go up to buy some drinks, knowing what your friends like, and quickly return with your drinks of choice. Conversation flows, laughs are shared, and a few drinking games are played over the next hours. Teresa soon speaks up on a topic you’d been hoping to avoid.

“Do you think he’ll be here tonight?”

You shrug and look into your drink, “Dunno. Why does it matter?”

Irene, the ever supportive best friend that she is, backs up Teresa. “What do you mean ‘why’? This is your chance to finally make a move!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You quickly deny, taking another sip.

An unladylike snort leaves Irene, “My ass! You and Major Egan have been making googly eyes at each other when you think the other’s not looking for months. I’m saying it’s time for you to perk your tits up, buck on over and ride that—!” You slam your drink on the table, pressing your hand over Irene’s mouth, heat rising to your cheeks in embarrassment.

“Are you insane?” You whisper harshly, looking around to make sure no one overheard you. You seem to be in the clear, which makes you calm down a bit. Irene pushes off your hand, takes a swig of her drink, and consults the person who started this whole conversation.

“Am I wrong?” You look to Teresa, who cringes slightly in agreement.

You gape at the pair of them. Normally, you were the median between the two girls who had vastly differing opinions. But this is what made them come to a consensus? Unbelievable.

“Look, I’m not saying that I don’t want to.” You start, which makes your friends nod encouragingly at you. “It’s just that… Is he really as interested as you think he is?”

They both groan and slump against each other, like they’d just run a marathon. Teresa sits up, scooching your chair in closer so that the three of you were in a private triangle, cut off from the rest of the group.

“Let’s look at the facts here, okay?” Teresa starts to tick off a finger with each point she and Irene make. But you seem to always have a rebuttal at the ready.

“He brings you coffee every morning.”

“I thought he does that for everyone.”

“He constantly fixes his hair when you’re around.”

“He takes care of his appearance!”

“He walks you to the mess hall every day for dinner.”

“We just happen to be going the same way. And we happen to have the same dinner schedule.”

“He read The Hobbit when you said how much you loved it.”

“He’s an adventurous guy, it’s an adventurous book, what’s not to like about it?”

“You two literally will walk and talk outside alone for hours.”

“A man can’t have a stimulating conversation with a woman?”

“He laughs at all your dumb jokes.”

“Hey! They’re not all dumb. Like, the one with the goose and the—”

“Point proven. Anyways! He has your picture in the inside pocket of his jacket.”

That one stops you in your tracks. You brain tries to justify this meaning but comes up blank.

“He…” You struggle with an excuse. “He…” Your best friends give victorious smirks in your direction.

“He… likes the extra padding in his jacket?” You stutter over what is possibly the most pathetic, sorry excuse you could have ever come up with.

“When are you gonna admit to yourself that he likes you? Like, actually truly likes you?” 

You gave a sad sigh, letting the insecurity you were feeling deep down come to the surface. “I just… He’s just so…” You had stomped down your feelings for so long that it was becoming hard to articulate what exactly you’re feeling.

“He just seems so unreal. Like, of everyone he could have chosen, why me? I mean, I know I’m great. But you’ve seen the other girls on base. They’re all so beautiful, smart, classy… and none of them are covered in engine oil ninety percent of the time.” You looked down at your hands, specks of grease and oil peeking out from beneath your nail beds. It seems like it would never completely wash out, no matter how hard you scrubbed. You hadn’t even painted your nails for this weekend, knowing it would be money wasted come Monday morning when you’re back on the clock.

Teresa and Irene share a look that you don’t see, then come forward and grab each of your hands. 

“The words you just used to describe those girls. All of that is you, Birdie. That and more. You being a mechanic doesn’t make you any less of a woman, and to hell with anyone else who thinks otherwise.”  You nodded in agreement, Irene’s words of encouragement slowly washing away your anxieties.

Teresa spoke up next, “You deserve someone who will rearrange the stars and the whole night sky for you. And I’m more than willing to bet that Major Egan is up for the job.” 

“Besides, none of that 'unreal' stuff. At the end of the day, John Egan is nothing more than a man. If he can’t look past his nose and his d—" You gave a squeak to cover up the vulgar word Irene was about to blurt in public. She rolled her eyes fondly and continued.

“If he can’t see what you’re worth and make the effort to treat you a hundred times better than that? That’s on him. Not you. You know what you deserve, and you deserve everything you want. Absolutely everything.”

You sniffed, happy tears coming to your eyes. You brought your best friends in for a hug, thanking them profusely. 

“Don’t sweat it,” Teresa grins into your shoulder “every girl needs to be pulled out of her well sometime.”

You pull back from the hug, grabbing your glass and tipping your head back, finishing the rest of your drink. “Even if he’s not gonna be here, let’s have a ball!” Your girlfriends cheer as the three of you go to the bar for refills.

One drink turns into two, which turns into a few more, and suddenly you’re buzzed. Your group are having a rambunctious time, Irene dancing by the local piano player. Once Irene looks over to you, she stops and whispers in the player’s ear. He nods, then starts a new tune. Irene starts up her voice, walking over to you and Teresa, encouraging you to join her. 

The alcohol has loosened you up enough that you don’t feel the nausea you usually associate with being perceived, so you join in the harmonies you and your friends have practiced in your bunks at night.

He was a famous trumpet man from out Chicago way

He had a boogie style that no one else could play

He was the top man at his craft

But then his number came up and he was gone with the draft

Soon the whole pub was jumping and dancing along to the tune as you brought a new vibe to the pub. It was like a spark that started an entirely new night and everyone was eager to go on forever.

One song turns into an entire set, which ends with a full rendition of G.I. Jive, which had everyone singing along. It was a magical moment; made you feel like you were a part of something important.

Irene sidles up to you, giving you a hug. She says in your ear,

“I think it’s time to slow it down a bit. How about you sing that song I taught you.”

She means an old Appalachian folk song that’s been in her family for generations. You had heard her sing it one night and immediately loved the dark, but strong nature of the lyrics. It was an honor to learn it from her. 

“I don’t know, it’s your family’s song and…”

“And I can’t think of anyone better to sing it to these soldiers.” You gave each other a look, her slight eyebrow raise gave you the courage to nod in acceptance. She smiled, hugging you again, her voice yelled out to the crowd. 

“Birdie’s gonna sing solo!”

The announcement is met with raucous applause, Irene and Teresa shoving you towards a dodgy looking table. Crank offers a hand up, which you take gratefully. As you find your bearings on the tabletop, you quickly spin around and find all eyes on you. 

The crackling energy in the air seemed to simmer, the fast-beating hearts of the pubgoers recognizing a moment to acknowledge you. Nausea starts to make an appearance, but a deep breath quells the sensation within you for the time being.

You take another deep breath. Inhale, exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

You close your eyes, open your mouth, and sing.

Meanwhile…. 

Majors Gale Cleven and John Egan walk down the familiar street, one eager to catch up with his fellow countrymen’s alcohol intake, the other just happy to spend time with his friends. They were arriving later to the festivities due to being caught up in filling out reports. By far the worst part of having a higher rank was the paperwork.

“It’s pretty quiet.” Buck acknowledges. “They’re usually rowdier by this point.”

Bucky sniffs, shrugging off the concern. “Ah, it’s probably nothing.” 

As the two men approach the pub, they find that a crowd has formed. Soldiers, civilians, RAF, USAAF, old, young— people had obviously stopped to watch whatever was going on. It was dead silent, save for a voice singing. Was there a radio show on or something?

A familiar face peeks out at them from the crowd, DeMarco quickly waving them over. 

Bucky is quick to question, “Hey, what’s going on?” but is immediately shushed by nearby crowd members. Buck cringes in apology, despite not being the one to disturb the peace. His best friend, ever unshaken by the opinion of strangers, carries on.

DeMarco leans in, whispering, “Your girl’s taking us all to church.”

“My girl..?” Bucky’s nose scrunches in confusion. He makes space through the crowd and quickly makes sense of DeMarco’s words. It was you.

I’ll catch you up

When I’ve emptied my cup

When I’ve worn out my friends

When I’ve burned out both ends

Standing on a tabletop, watchful eyes sat all around you like baby ducks flocking to their mama. You were captivating everyone with each note and word that flows from your mouth. Damn, you've got a set of pipes— a voice that belongs on the radio, in concert halls, on Hollywood records. He had no idea.

His little Birdie.

“Wow.” Buck mutters in awe from behind him, and Bucky couldn’t be more in agreement.

When I’m pure like a dove

When I’ve learned how to love

He hadn’t noticed before, but her eyes were closed. Like she needed to concentrate on each and every breath she took, every single movement her body made, before letting them out in an angelic melody.

As if by divine intervention, her eyes pop open and lock on his as she belts “how to love” 

It could’ve been an eternity, for all he knows, the amount of time that they spent locked in each other’s gaze. The world pauses around them, everything frozen. Her eyes were already the kind to knock a man clean off his feet with a single gaze, but he thinks- for a brief moment- that his heart completely stops beating.

John Clarence Egan would swear every day from then on, until his dying breath, that the course of his life was altered in that very moment. He knew how it would continue from then on, and how it would end. How he wanted it to end.

Then the world starts back up and carries on.

Right here in the old therebefore

When nothing is left anymore

Her final hums are joined by a short blonde woman who stands nearby, another face he recognizes from base. 

The applause that picks up after the end of the song is near deafening. The star of the hour gives a shy smile, a quick curtsy and is given a hand to step down from the table.

Everyone soon starts mingling, the normal chatter of the bar returning. But Bucky is stuck in his spot, dumbfounded. In all the conversations you’d had together, somehow this never came up. He should’ve put two and two together, as he recalls overhearing your hums one morning as he made his daily coffee delivery to you. But you had been caught off guard, so much so that you tripped off the ladder you stood on and fell. Luckily, his quick reflexes kicked in to catch you before any serious injuries occurred. 

Remembering the sensation of his hands on your waist and thighs, face just inches from yours, sent his brain into a tailspin. That’s not even considering just how damn cute you were when, after a beat, you turned away from him and playfully mourned the cups of coffee that were splattered all over the hardstand.

“John. John?” A hand waving in front of his face knocks him out of his reverie. He blinks once, twice. Then looks to his best friend.

His voice comes out uncharacteristically weak in response, to which he then clears his throat and corrects. “Yes—yeah?” He pops the collar of his sheepskin jacket to try and hide the rampant red of his ears that signals the heat radiating from them.

Buck just shakes his head and gives him a knowing smile. “You sure know how to pick ‘em, Egan. Never thought I’d see the day.”

“See what day?” Bucky starts to consciously return to his body, leaning on the bar.

“The day when a girl finally knocks you on your ass. I knew you had a thing for her, but that?” He points to his face and motions to indicate where they had just been standing. “That’s something else. That’s something real.”

Bucky gives another shrug in response, to which Buck throws back an unconvinced frown. He turns his head to gaze over the pub patrons and is distracted by you once again. Any denial he was about to spout immediately dies in his mouth when you lock eyes with him again and give him a dazzling smile. The world starts to fade away again.

His heart pumps faster in his chest at the sight. Damnit. He sighs, telling his best friend the truth he’s been privately wrestling with for a while now, all the while keeping his eyes locked on yours.

“I know, Buck. I know.”

Bucky smiles back at you and is elated when your face lights up. You give him a wave.

“She kinda snuck up on me.”

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

Merry Christmas, baby.

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

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

1990

“So what do you think?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

_____________________________________________

1993

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

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

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

Marcus was fuming. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You had only seen each other in person at Thanksgiving.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You had laughed “I find her lovely” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Could you not squirm like that?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

____________________________________________

2000

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

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

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

The last person you thought you would see was him. 

“Marcus!” you had squeaked.

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

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

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

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

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

He seemed genuinely glad to see you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

_________________________________________

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

___________________________________________

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

___________________________________________

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your mother and John?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

____________________________________

2008

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

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

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

He had made it worth it all the way.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You had looked up and been stunned. 

Marcus.

How was that possible? 

“Oh shit,” he had exclaimed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"So how are you?" you asked absentmindedly. 

“Danielle and I broke up last spring.” 

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

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

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

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

"Sorry I-" he had babbled.  

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

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

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

“That's not true, I-” 

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

“But-” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I love you. 

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

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

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

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

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

___________________________________

2010

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was over.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

________________________________________________________

2011 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Marcus. Again. 

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

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

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

“Martini?” He had asked pointing to your glass 

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

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

You had nodded, “You too?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Whatever,” you had rolled your eyes. 

“Well, I'm sorry,” he had muttered.

“It's okay” you had smiled ”Really.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Actually...yes” 

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

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

“Yes” You had said ”definitely yes.”

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

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

“Merry Christmas, baby”

[andvys]

I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss | part 18

Warnings: slight angst, mentions of body dysmorphia, mentions of an eating disorder, mentions of weight loss, mentions of cheating, mentions of pregnancy (don't worry, it's nothing), depression and anxiety

Pairings: Steve Harrington x fem!cheerleader!reader, Eddie Munson x fem!cheerleader!reader

Summary: A conversation with a girl that you had been trying to avoid, leaves you more confused than ever -- it might just be the cause of a storm in your heart.

Word count: 6k

A/N: BIG BIG BIG SHOUTOUT TO THE LITTLE DEVIL ON MY SHOULDER AKA @hellfire--cult thank you so much for helping me, with this chapter especially! I was struggling with the dialogue at the end of this chapter and you were such a big help so thank you -- you're talented, amazing, show-stopping, perfect, thank you for helping me with the dialogues (and so many other ideas) mwah! You guys better follow her and give her stories the love they deserve

series masterlist

-

The gym is filled with girls dressed in their cheer uniforms, the color green is starting to give you a headache, just like the sound of giggles and hushed whispers as the girls next to you talk about the latest gossip. Another supposed breakup. 

This time it’s Tommy and Carol again. 

Just three weeks back, you heard rumors about Steve and Nancy’s apparent breakup,  which turned out to be just a rumor, considering you’ve seen them together – maybe less than before but they are still around each other, laughing and smiling just like before. 

Clearly, they are still together. 

But teenagers love to make up rumors – especially about people like you and Steve. Despite both yours and his fall down the social ladder, you are still the hot topics of the school. 

They love to make up rumors about your relationship or past relationship with Steve and your friendship with Eddie – or as they still like to call him, the freak. 

Apparently you and Eddie had been seen making out in his van. 

Apparently you and Eddie have been in a secret relationship since august, last year. 

Apparently you cheated on the king with the freak. 

Apparently the satan worshiper had cursed your relationship with the king – so he could have you. 

Apparently you are pregnant with Eddie’s baby and living in his trailer. 

Apparently you and Eddie are in love and secretly married – at least, you understand that rumor. The matching rings on both yours and his ring finger may have been the cause of it. 

The pregnancy rumor made you physically sick – it made you stand in front of the mirror, checking for signs that you had gained weight. You did not, it still made you feel nauseous and you had to cancel your dinner ‘date’ with your friends. 

A sigh falls from your lips when you hear Teresa talking about her future in college – Princeton to be exact. Of course the cute brunette has it all, beauty and brains. The straight A student isn’t only one of the smartest students in Hawkins High, she is also one of the prettiest – cat eyes, a small nose and big lips, she is thin but her boobs are, well, they are huge. 

You wonder why you were ever crowned as the queen when girls like her exist. When girls like Heather and Chrissy exist. 

You wonder why Steve ever even looked your way. 

You look down at yourself, your uniform is perfectly ironed, your skin is soft and glowing after scrubbing and lathering it in moisturizer earlier this morning. You reach for the mirror in your bag, wanting to check on your makeup, one more time before the photoshooting. Your hair looks good, your make up looks good and yet, you still don’t like the way you look. 

“Well, don’t you look beautiful.” 

The frown on your face disappears when you hear his voice. Looking over your shoulder,  you see Eddie leaning against the doorframe. He is eying you with a smile on his face. He ignores all the nasty looks from the other cheerleaders before they continue getting ready for the little photo session with Jonathan – who is getting just as many nasty looks as Eddie does. 

You put the little mirror down and walk over to him, smoothing down your skirt as you take in the sight of him. He was forced to leave his leather jacket at home and he had already been whining about it since the early morning hours. Clad in his favorite jeans and a metallica shirt, you can’t help but miss the leather on his skin – it’s his staple piece but, it’s the end of May, much to Eddie’s dismay it’s too warm to walk around with vests and jackets. 

You like seeing his tattoos though and his hair in ponytail or a bun when it does get a little too warm. 

“Hi,” you say, giving him a sweet smile as you halt in front of him. 

He smiles down at you, tapping your nose, “hey sweetheart.” 

“Wanna join the photo session?” You joke, gesturing to the girls who are still getting ready as Jonathan is setting up his tripod and his camera. 

“Yeah,” Eddie says, “give me a uniform and I’m in.”

Giggling, you shake your head, “your butt would look cute in a cheer skirt.”

“Oh, not as cute as yours,” he winks, grinning at you when you look away with a blush on your cheeks. 

“Are you enjoying the last day as the cheer captain?” 

“You have no idea how much I wanna get rid of that title,” you laugh, “I’m ready to give that position up to Chrissy.” 

You haven’t been loving cheerleading as much as you used to. Things changed, especially this year. 

“I’m ready to get the hell out of here.” 

“You and me both, sweetheart.” 

“You know, I always thought that I’d go to college after high school,” you say as you look around the room, “but now, I’m just lost. I wouldn’t even know what to major in if I did go to college a-and I don’t even know what college I’d go to – and why am I even stressing about it, it’s too late for that now–”

Eddie places his hands on your shoulders, “I thought we settled on not stressing about our future anymore.” 

“Yeah but–” 

“No buts,” Eddie chuckles, “you’re taking a gap year, you still got your job at the record store and I’ll work at the garage, we’ll save up some money this summer and then–”

“And then we’ll go on that road trip.”

“Exactly,” he smiles, “we’ve been planning it for weeks now, don’t let college ruin that.”

Your shoulders slump and you sigh, “I just, I hear all of them talking about college,” you pause, gesturing to the girls behind you, “a-and it makes me think that maybe it was a mistake not to apply to any.”

His eyes soften at the worry in your eyes, he shakes his head. 

“I don’t think it’s a mistake.”

“It’s not?” 

“No, you got all the time in the world to join all these boring people in the normal world,” he chuckles, pulling you closer, “let’s live in our own world for a little longer,” he smiles, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear before he fixes the bow in your ponytail. 

“Our dreams will be crushed the moment we step into the real world, let’s not let that happen so soon.”

You eye his face and curl of his lips as he stares at you. 

“Our own world,” you smile, nodding, “I think I like that more anyways.”

“Yeah?” He grins. 

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

“Good,” you repeat after him, making him chuckle. 

He tilts his head with a smile on his face, “did you do your make up differently?” 

“Uh yeah, I did pink eye shadow today,” you chuckle, “I’m surprised you noticed it, guys usually don’t pay attention to these things.”

“I’m offended that you think I’m one of those guys,” he jokes, placing his hand on his chest, “I notice everything about you, sweetheart.” 

He notices every slight change. A different hairstyle, new clothes, the new color of your lipstick, the slightest change in your behavior, your eating habits, your struggles. He notices it all. 

“You look gorgeous.”

“Thanks,” you smile but the look in your eyes isn’t genuine and it makes him frown. 

“Not as gorgeous as Teresa.”

“Who the fuck is Teresa,” he mumbles in confusion. 

You point to the cheerleader and Eddie follows your gaze. You watch him closely as he looks at the pretty cheerleader. 

Does he think she’s gorgeous? Does he think she looks better than you? Does he think she looks sexy in her tight uniform? Does he think her boobs look good?

The reaction you expected never comes, he scrunches his face up and a look of distaste crosses his features.

“That bitch threw gum in my hair.” 

A laugh tumbles from your lips, you cup your hand over your mouth when the others turn to look at you.

“That’s not funny, y/n!” Eddie frowns, though his eyes are filled with amusement, “Wayne had to cut a chunk of my hair because I couldn’t get it out.” 

“Your poor hair!” You pout, reaching out to touch his curls. 

Both you and Eddie are unaware of the new set of eyes watching the two of you. 

Steve just left the coach’s office, passing by the gym when he heard your laughter, he couldn’t help but peek inside the open gym. 

His eyes fall on you, right away. 

It’s been a while since you had talked, though you had been more present in his life since the night before your birthday, you were still far from actually being back in his life. The only interactions the two of you have are the ones in the hallway or in classes, greeting one another and saying goodbye. That’s all but he wishes he would see more of you. 

Things haven’t been easy in the past few weeks, he barely passed the exams, sleepless nights haunt him and his days usually consist of reading and trying to better his cooking skills – he has nothing else to do. He has no one to talk to, no one to hang out with, no one to be with, not even his parents. 

He had never been more miserable than he is right now. 

There you are, pressing yourself against Eddie as you play with his hair, looking happier than ever. 

Eddie, who wraps his arm around your waist and looks down at you like you are the most precious thing in this world. 

Steve’s eyes are filled with nothing but sadness. He doesn’t even have the power to feel jealous anymore. 

“Hey Steve!” 

Shit. 

All eyes are now on him, including yours and Eddie’s. 

Steve tears his eyes away from you and turns to look at Jonathan who is walking towards him with his camera. By the look in his eyes, Steve can tell that he wants to do anything but talk to him. 

“Uh – it’s good that you’re here,” Jonathan mumbles, holding the camera up, “Principle Higgins asked for a picture of you and y/n.” 

Steve’s brows furrow and confusion takes over his face, “me and y/n?” He asks, “why?”

Jonathan shrugs, refraining from rolling his eyes, “cause you’re the captain of the basketball team and she’s cheer captain.” 

“Oh.” 

Jonathan looks away from Steve, glancing in your direction, waving you over. 

You look just as confused as Steve does but you make your way over to them nonetheless. 

“Hi,” you mumble to Steve before your eyes find Jonathan who stands between you two, awkwardly. 

“Hey,” Steve smiles at you. 

“Principle Higgins wants a picture of you two together,” Jonathan explains to you, “cause you’re both Captains.” 

You raise your brows, “uh okay,” you snort, “what does the cheer captain have to do with–” 

“Don’t ask me, y/n,” Jonathan chuckles as he motions for you both to follow him, “I’m just as confused.” 

“That’s weird,” you mumble, glancing at Steve who’s awfully quiet. 

“Let’s do it in front of the banners,” Jonathan looks over his shoulder, giving you a small smile but avoiding Steve’s eyes – you notice it. 

Does he feel guilty about kissing his girlfriend? You saw them together yesterday, Nancy and Jonathan. They didn’t even bother to hide their affection. They kissed in the parking lot in front of everyone to see. All they got were a few weird looks, no one seemed to pay much attention to them – no one except for you. You stood frozen in place, a mix of confusion and anger rushing through you. 

Despite the things that Steve had done to you, he still didn’t deserve that. 

You didn’t know whether you should tell him or not, by the sullen look in his eyes, you can tell that he already knows. 

“Alright, just uh–” Jonathan waves his hand at you and Steve, looking around awkwardly, “scoot a little closer.” 

You don’t have to look around the gym to see all the eyes on you, you can feel them and you can hear the hushed whispers.

Steve ignores them but he can’t help but take a look at Eddie who is still standing in the same spot as before. He watches you. 

You step closer to Steve, when he lifts his arm up for you. You place your hand on his back and he places his hand on your waist. Steve looks away from Eddie when the latter looks down. 

Jonathan looks through his camera, squinting his eyes as he motions with his hand, “a little closer, y/n.” 

Steve feels your body closer against his, your hand slides down to his waist, your touch fills him with a warmth that he hasn’t felt in a long time, it makes his heart beat a little faster, it fills him with life. 

If a simple touch of your hand can make him feel such things, he wonders what a kiss from you would cause. 

For a moment, he forgets about his surroundings and what he is supposed to be doing. The sound of chatter, whispers and giggles fly by him. His attention is on you and he basks in the feeling of being so close to you, of feeling your touch, of being able to look at you – not from afar but from such a close distance. 

After a few snaps, Jonathan pulls back to look at the pictures he just took, he furrows his brows and glances up at the two of you. 

“What’s wrong?” You ask, not pulling away from Steve just yet, “do I look okay?” 

Jonathan huffs with a soft chuckle, “yeah, you look good but uh, Steve? You’re supposed to look into the camera,” he says awkwardly. 

Your breath hitches in your throat when you look up to see him staring at you – now with a blush on his cheeks. Oh. He wasn’t looking into the camera because he was too busy looking at you. 

He closes his eyes, furrowing his brows, “right.” 

You can’t help but smile to yourself – a flustered Steve is not something you will ever get used to. 

“Alright,” Jonathan mumbles after snapping a few more pictures, “I got it now.”

He looks up from his camera, giving Steve a tight lipped smile, “thanks Steve, you can go now,” he says before he steps away himself. 

You feel the hesitation in his touch before he lets go of you, stepping away slowly.

“Alright uh, I’m gonna,” he mumbles, scratching the back of his neck as he points to the entrance. 

“Yeah,” you whisper but you hesitate as well and you find yourself looking into his eyes again. 

The sadness has taken over. 

You know that he knows about Nancy and Jonathan. 

Why is he still with her? 

Why is he still with her after everything he said to you? 

Why is he still with her when she is seeing someone else? 

He gives you a halfhearted smile before he turns away but you stop him, reaching for his hand before he can take the first step away from you. You grip it tightly, unaware of the feeling in his heart that you had caused with yet another simple touch. 

He looks down at your hand only to notice another, new ring adorning your hand. A skull ring on your ring finger – he doesn’t know why such a small item can cause him so much despair. He doesn’t have to ask to know where or who you had gotten it from. 

“Are you okay?” 

The softness in your voice matches the one in your eyes, it makes him want to cry. 

How could he ever be okay without you in his life? 

Now that he had finally dropped the act and let go of a fake love, he had nothing to hold onto anymore. 

He lost his best friend, he lost the love of his life, he lost the one. All because he was an insecure coward. 

The past few weeks have shown him how much he had truly ruined, how alone he really is without you in his life. 

He needed to lose you to realize that you are all he ever wanted. 

He doesn’t need a bunch of friends who don’t even care about him nor does he need girls chasing after him or the popularity that he no longer has or even wants. 

You, he only wants you. 

But he won’t fight for someone who he doesn’t deserve to have.  

You look at him with worry in your eyes as you wait for him to answer your question. 

No. No, he is not okay. 

He has never felt more lost in his life than he does at this moment. 

The emptiness in his chest is eating at him and he doesn’t know how to keep going when every day feels like hell.

Every night he stares at the bottles of expensive whiskey in his dad’s office, contemplating whether or not he should just drink until he no longer feels anything. Deep down he knows that the whiskey would just make everything so much worse. 

Maybe it would lead him back to you, maybe it would lead him to the phone on his nightstand, maybe he would make the mistake of calling or even seeing you only to beg for another chance – which would only end in heartbreak. 

You won’t take him back.

Steve will forever hate himself for losing you. 

“Yeah,” he says, forcing a smile on his face, “I’m okay.” 

And for a moment, it isn’t a lie. For a moment, he does feel okay when he still feels your hand in his, when he sees the worry and the softness in your beautiful eyes and the necklace around your neck, the locket that he gave you. You are wearing it. And that alone is enough for his heart to flutter and for the emptiness in his chest to disappear – even if only temporary. 

He avoids your eyes and that proves to you that he isn’t okay but just like he never pressured you, you don’t do it either. 

“A-Are you going to college?” You ask, not wanting him to go so soon. 

Your question surprises him, it’s been a long time since you had initiated a conversation. 

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “It doesn’t seem really appealing to me.”

“But you wanted to go to college, Steve.”

He runs his fingers through his hair, tilting his head with a small chuckle.

“That uh, that was our dream. I only wanted to go to college with you.”

His hand is still in yours, his sad eyes are still gazing into yours. 

“You wanted to go to college with me?” Your eyes widen when he nods, “for me?” 

“Yeah,” he breathes, “I couldn’t stand the thought of being away from you so,” he trails off as he watches the way sadness crosses your features. 

Your heart jumps at his words. 

“That’s uh, that’s funny,” you laugh, “cause I couldn’t stand the thought of being away from you so I always told you that I had this huge college dream when I never even knew what I actually wanted.”

Steve’s brows furrow and his eyes fill with confusion but also with amusement. 

“Really?” He chuckles. 

“Yeah.” 

His eyes crinkle and his smile widens. 

“Wow. We would’ve gone to college together not knowing that it’s something neither of us wanted,” he says, “unless it’s something that you want now?”

“Oh no,” you mumble, “I-I’m not going to college. For now, I’m stuck at the record store which is actually being moved to Starcourt soon.” 

His eyes light up. 

“Oh, the record store is being moved?” 

“Yeah!”

“I guess we’ll keep seeing each other then.” 

While the thought leaves him with excitement, it must leave you with annoyance – at least that’s what he thinks. 

The look on your face is puzzled.

“I got a job at the ice cream parlor,” he clears his throat, “Scoops Ahoy.” 

Suddenly, he feels embarrassed and his cheeks heat up. You used to date a king, a popular guy, the captain of the basketball team with his apparent bright athlete future. 

And now he is just Steve Harrington who barely got his diploma, who threw his athlete future down the drain to work at an ice cream parlor. How humiliating. 

Your jaw drops and your eyes widen, “no way! Scoops Ahoy?” 

“Yeah..”

“Oh my god!” You giggle excitedly. “I’ll be your regular.”

Steve can’t help but laugh at your enthusiasm. 

“You did love your ice cream.”

“Yeah, I still do.” 

You are still smiling at him and he can’t help but smile back at you. This almost feels like a dream – standing here with your hand still in his, laughing and smiling with you like the past no longer matters. 

“Y/n!” Chrissy calls for you. 

You tear your eyes away from his and glance over his shoulder. 

Chrissy motions for you to join her and the other cheerleaders – who are all trying to hide the fact that they were just staring at you and Steve. 

“Come on!” She says as she glares at Steve’s back. 

“Yeah, I’m coming.”

Steve’s face falls, though his smile still lingers when you look back at him. You remove your hand from his. 

“So uh, I guess I’ll see you around?” 

He nods, “yeah,” he mumbles. 

You step away from him but this time, he stops you. With a hand on your wrist and your name falling from his lips, he makes you halt in your tracks. 

You look back at him with raised brows. 

His soft eyes make your heart race, his touch makes you feel warm. 

“You look beautiful.”

“Thank you,” you whisper. 

He knows you don’t believe it, you never did, no matter how many times he told you these words, you never believed them. 

“The locket looks good on you,” he smiles. 

You place your other hand on your chest, touching the locket, “thanks, I love it.”

Chrissy rolls her eyes, watching the interaction between you and Steve. Annoyed at the affection and the smiles you are giving him, she forces herself to look away. 

Steve always finds a way to sneak his way back into your life. He doesn’t deserve you, not after everything that happened. 

She knows that you might never stop loving him but she hopes that your love for him won’t stop you from letting another one in. She narrows her eyes, glancing at the metalhead who is still standing by the door, watching you with an intense look on his face, one that can only be described as jealousy. 

It’s the same look you always wore when you saw Steve with other girls. 

She sighs, shaking her head.

Chrissy might not be a close friend of Eddie’s but she knows that his feelings for you are nowhere near platonic and she knows that what you are feeling might be deeper than that too, though you are still oblivious, too focused on your feelings for your ex boyfriend. 

She hopes that you will let go of them someday. 

-

The first big summer storm hits the town of Hawkins on a Friday afternoon. The rain is falling down harshly from the sky, the wind is howling through the trees, the bright lighting lights up the darkened sky every few seconds as the thunder crashes loudly. 

The streets are empty as the water flushes down the road. 

Of course you had to come to the library today. 

You should’ve come here tomorrow, you should’ve stayed home. 

You tried to leave the library when the storm just started but the librarian, an elderly woman named Margaret, refused to let you leave. She forced a book into your hand and told you to take a seat by the window. 

She didn’t even let you put up a fight. She offered you a cup of coffee and told you to wait out the storm. 

It’s been an hour but the storm is still raging and you are becoming restless. You hate being stuck in public places.

You take the book that she gave you and leave the table, giving her a tight lipped smile as you pass by the counter. 

“Don’t worry, I’m not trying to sneak out,” you whisper to her when she gives you a pointed look. 

“You better not, young lady,” she says with a mean voice but her eyes are kind. 

You chuckle at her, flashing her a smile before you disappear into the aisle where the shelves are filled with nothing but dramatic romances and sad love stories – your favorites. 

The smell of paper and coffee, the sound of rain and thunder fills you with a nostalgic feeling. You love these types of afternoons, sitting down with a book you love, listening to the rain paddling down the windows after you light up your favorite candle and drinking a hot cup of coffee – too bad you did not stay at home, you could have done just that. 

As you walk down the aisle and you trace the books, trying to find one that calls for you, you don’t find a story that you would love to read, instead, you find the girl that has been the cause of a lot of pain in your life. 

You halt in your tracks when you find her sitting in the little nook by the window. A large book resting on her lap. 

You don’t know why you freeze, why you don’t just walk away, why you keep standing there like a fool as you stare at the girl that stole your boyfriend – ex boyfriend. 

She glances up from her book when she feels your eyes on her.

For a moment, she freezes too and stares back at you. 

What are you doing? Just walk away. The angel on your shoulder whispers, trying to save you from the awkwardness of this situation. 

No. Confront her. Tell her what you saw.

You were never one to let the devil win. You were always a good, obedient girl. Always listening to the things the good ones whispered to you. Always doing what you were supposed to do. Always being kind and sweet to everyone around you. Always doing the right thing. 

Maybe that is where you went wrong, by doing the apparent right things. 

But you never did what you wanted to do. 

So you let the devil for once – or maybe the devil is actually the angel and the angel that has been whispering all these discouraging words to you, is actually the devil in disguise,  waiting for you to fail, changing your mind about the things that you want.

“Can I help you?” Nancy asks slowly.

You notice that her hair is shorter than it used to be, a few of her curls fall from the clip that is holding her hair together. 

“No,” you shake your head. 

She furrows her brows when you make your way over to her. 

“But there’s something that I wanted to talk to you about.” 

“You wanted to talk to me?” She asks, pointing between the two of you. 

Surprised that you want to talk to her now. 

You nod. 

Nancy can’t help but feel nervous. Despite her dislike for you, she is aware of her wrongs. You have every right to be angry at her – if you are angry at her. 

“I saw you with Jonathan.” 

She tilts her head, eyes straying from you. She looks confused. 

“What?” 

You cross your arms over your chest, the bracelet around your wrist slides down a little. 

“I saw you kissing him.”

“So?” 

“So?” 

Now you feel the anger rushing through you. 

Does she not feel ashamed? 

You scoff, shaking your head in disbelief. 

“I should be the last person to care about this but I still care about him,” you start as you stare into her confused eyes, “what are you doing is disgusting.”

Nancy begins to understand a little but a part of her still leaves her with a big question mark. 

“I shouldn’t be defending him but I know that he is a good person, despite everything,” you murmur the last part with an eye roll, “and I know that he is good to you.” 

Nancy straightens her back, she pushes the book off of her lap and holds her hands up, “okay, uh I’m a little confused.”

“Oh, you’re confused?” You mumble, trying to keep your voice down, “you’re confused about the fact that you are cheating – openly?” 

Technically, you are not wrong. She did cheat but not anymore. 

“I’m not cheating,” she mumbles, “we’re not together anymore.”

Silence fills the space between the two of you. The only sound you both hear is the thunder and the rain outside before you speak up after a long pause. 

“What?” You ask and Nancy realizes that you don’t know. 

How do you not know about the break up? 

How do you not know that he left her? 

She stands up and crosses her arms over her chest, mimicking your pose. 

“Steve broke up with me.” 

You are stunned. These news are something you did not expect. 

“A few weeks ago, actually,” she explains, “when he came back from you.”

Oh. 

He broke up with her, the night before your birthday, after seeing you. 

“I’m not cheating on Steve. Jonathan and I, we’re together.” 

So, the rumors were true, after all. 

They broke up – he broke up with her. 

“Oh.”

Nancy looks you up and down. There you stand, wide eyed, confused and definitely unaware of the break up that happened so long ago. 

“You didn’t… know?” 

You shake your head and you lean your body against the shelf behind you. 

“No, I-I didn’t know.”

You had almost forgotten about the raging storm when a bolt of lightning strikes through the sky and the lights in the library flicker for a few seconds. 

You draw in a long sharp breath and look down. 

Why didn’t he tell you? You wonder. 

Nancy asks herself the same thing. Why did Steve not tell you about the break up? Why didn’t he call you the way he called her after he broke up with you? 

The two of you stand in front of each other, shocked.

And as Nancy takes a closer look at you, as she sees the slight frown, the look in your eyes, the tension in your shoulders, the hand over your heart. She knows. She knows that there is still something. 

You are still processing the news, she can tell by the way your eyes flicker back and forth as though you are trying to piece something together. 

“Wait so.. you heard the rumors and you didn’t… think they were true?” 

Your hair falls in front of your face when you lift your head, you don’t bother to push it away. 

“I– well, I…I saw you two together a lot, so, it was hard to believe the rumors.. you know?” 

Nancy nods in understanding. 

“I get it… Then, the rumors with Eddie are not true?” 

For a moment, you think about her question before you turn your head to look at her with a frown. 

“The one I’m pregnant? The one where he sacrificed a lamb to get my undying love and devotion? The one where I cheated on Steve? Which one of them all?” 

Nancy’s eyes widen. 

She can’t help but snort at all those rumors. Shaking her head with an amused smile, she looks down with furrowed brows, “trust me, even I know Munson looks scary but probably is a fan of Garfield or something,” she chuckles. 

A smile tugs at your lips. 

“He does have Garfield pajamas.”

She looks at you with a stunned expression before you both burst into giggles. 

Nancy shakes her head again as the smile fades away. 

“And no, not the pregnant one either.. Jesus,” she sighs. Her eyes find your body again, she looks you up and down with a look that you cannot read. 

Suddenly, you feel self conscious again. You feel the urge to wrap your arms around your waist, wanting to hide your body. 

But her words aren’t ones that you expected. 

“If you’re pregnant with a body like that, is the baby like smushed to the very back?” 

Your breath gets caught in your throat. Your eyes widen at her words and you restrain yourself from gasping or holding your hand in front of your mouth or your stomach. 

Nancy had spent so much time feeling jealous of you, of what you had – because at one point, she thought that you had everything. Beauty, popularity, friends and a guy who was hopelessly in love with you. You had it all and when she got a taste of what you had, she wanted it. She wanted him. She painted a false picture of you in her head, to make herself feel better about stealing from you. 

Though, the false picture in her head didn’t stay for long, it started crumbling the moment she walked into the girls bathroom to hear you crying. She knew it was you, the backpack that laid on the ground had a pin of The Cure on the front, one that only you had. 

After that, she began to pay attention to you. 

She saw the way you looked at Steve, weeks, months after he left you. 

She saw the sadness, the heartbreak, the pain in your eyes and the love that never left. 

She saw the way you looked at the other girls and the way you looked at yourself. The way you stayed in the locker room, a little longer than the other girls. 

The way you looked at her and compared yourself to her. 

All because of him. 

“Y-You look amazing is what I’m trying to say,” Nancy says nervously. 

A flush creeps up to your face as you gape at her. 

To hear it from Steve or even Eddie is one thing, to hear it from a girl who bashed on you, who belittled you is a whole other thing. It feels.. good. 

“T-Thank you..”

Nancy clears her throat, suddenly feeling embarrassed. Desperately wanting to kill the awkward tension, she goes back to your previous question.

“No… The one where you and Eddie are dating.” 

It takes you a moment to realize what she means. Your mouth falls open and recognition dawns your face. 

“No, it’s not true either. None of them are,” you brows knit together, “wait, why did you think it was true?”

There’s amusement in her features as she takes in the sight of your confused face. She shrugs, “you’re always clinging to one another, and you guys literally kiss on the cheek! Like, who does that to a friend? And– you sit on his lap! It’s hard not to think you two have something going on!” 

You press your hands together, laughing awkwardly, “uh, well, that’s how best friends interact,” you say these words with a twinge of pain in your chest but you don’t understand it, the reasoning behind the pain is unclear to you. 

“Trust me, that’s not how best friends interact with each other – or look at each other,” she adds quietly. 

“L-Like what?”

She stares at you in amusement, albeit a little bewildered. 

“You’re a little oblivious, aren’t you?” 

“Oblivious to what?” 

She looks away from you with a small smile, glancing out the window, she pretends to be surprised, “oh, it looks like the storm finally stopped!” She points out. 

The storm had indeed stopped, though the one inside of you, has just begun. 

Nancy reaches for the book on the nook. She grabs her bag and turns back to you, “I gotta go home. Jonathan and my mom must be worried.” 

You follow her with your eyes, staring at her desperately. 

She looks over her shoulder after passing by you, “one piece of advice? Pay attention.” 

And with that, Nancy Wheeler leaves you standing in the empty aisle. 

“What?”

next chapter

-

@mysticmunson @taintedcigs @wroteclassicaly @corrodedseraphine @corrodedcorpses @succubusmunson @xxhellfirebunnyxx @trashmouth-richie @take-everything-you-can @sherrylyn628 @nemesis729 @somethingvicked @chrissymjstan

[ouchthathurts]

❝ 𝐃𝐢𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐦𝐞? 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐭! ❞

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 (𝐬) ⋮ Daisuke x AFAB! Reader

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ⋮ 3.1k

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 ⋮ 1 | 2 | 3

𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 ⋮ Finally meeting the nurse!

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬 ⋮ Cross-Posted on AO3 | Vomit Mentioned | Anya being Anya

𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 ⋮ APOLOGIES AGAIN! I DROPPED FROM A 95 TO A 25 IN TWO OF MY CLASSES. SO SORRY THIS IS VERY LATE AGAIN! WINTER BREAK TIL EARLY FEBRUARY SO ILL BE UPDATING AT LEAST ONCE OR TWICE A WEEK!

There’s something about the nurse aboard the Tuplar, she’s sweet, not sickeningly, but in a beautiful moderation. The way you’re given a piece of candy for completion of a simple task and even more so envelopes you when the day is rough. You’re not surprised by her nature; however, you are surprised by her knowledge.

You won’t lie to yourself that Jimmy had definitely convinced you that Anya was someone who tried too hard at things “She’d never be good at.” You feel for her, Jimmy setting these unrealistic expectations of what his own needs and wants that he desires from the group. 

Anya…Musume? Maybe it was a lack of attention you paid in school, but God, you couldn't read cursive to save your life. Looking at her name card, you could tell who she was. She was the nurse on deck and who you'd be spending your time with. Luckily for you, you'd given this time to really take in your surroundings, and by taking your surroundings, be stuck with Jimmy for a majority of the duration of your trip.

It peeved you to say the least, and you couldn't help but hate how much Jimmy was going to be around you, and how much this was definitely going to affect your relationship given the situation.

Your eyes laid on Anya, she was gorgeous, in fact, one of the most prettiest girls in the world. She honestly reminded you a bit of Daisuke’s older sister, she's not meek when she talks to you. In fact, you watch as Anya takes over Jimmy, she's a lot more carefree than Jimmy made her out to be, passionate about helping you, Jimmy also calls that her hellbent need to be in charge, and she tells you about how you should join her and Daisuke for a game, and which Jimmy will tell you that they’re both childish ego maniacs who have never told no in their life.

“They keep trying, reaching for something that they know they'll never reach, but thanks to their parents' big ambition and big push, they think they can accomplish the world. They don't know hard work. Failing 8 times? It's obvious she's not trying hard enough. Daisuke? It’ll just be inheritance.”

You hated how little time you were able to spend with Anya. It honestly pissed you off how fucking pushy Jimmy was. It was irritating to be around somebody so annoyingly negative, pessimistic, ignorant to the world around them, only thinking of how things can only get worse. 

It wasn't even you who told him to go away, it was Anya. The dark-haired woman speaks to you. There's a big, chipper smile on her face, and it's radiant, like a halo behind her, and she's looking to you like Mother Teresa. “I would love some help from you if you don't mind. I know Jimmy is rather busy since he is Copiloting and I am pretty sure Curly's been talking about needing some help in the cockpit for a minute. He came in here early with some injuries. I was hoping I would find Jimmy to tell him to go help Curly. It gives you the time to really look into the nurse's office and get to know more about the area, I'd be happily able to inform you while Jimmy's gone.” Jimmy scoffs. Obviously, he can't even help the idea of you wanting to do something else rather than be around him.

“Well,” “I’d love to, Anya!” 

Jimmy's eyes as it hits your gaze but Anya's there, and she's tall and proud and she doesn't give a shit. She's like this bright flashlight, beating down on a shadow. “You’re our only hope!” Anya jokes. There's a soft giggle in her voice. Jimmy leaves in a huff and it honestly brings you more joy to even be out of the area. She watches as your soldiers fall in relief and she can't help but just feel for you in those seconds as she watches you. 

“What a hardass, no?” You let out another sigh, “You’re fucking telling me.” Bursts in the laughter. It's the same boisterous laughter that you hear in the game room while her and Daisuke are going at it.

It's nice, you're not surprised Curly feels so at peace around her, she's like a garden, if you're gonna be honest, with all the pastels surrounding you and the smell of the nature hitting your nose. It's sweet, not nauseous, not irritating to the skin. Everything is soft and the temperature is perfect.

“Well, tell me about yourself,” she says. She takes a seat on the other side of the desk, and you follow in suit as you just can't wait to talk to this woman. “What do you like to do on the ship? What makes you smile? Why are you here? How'd you throw up on Jimmy without him making a bigger scene?” Anya's quick quiz questions. She's very inquisitive.

You look around her desk to see the small doodles on sticky notes, the many different books on psychology and mental health, and the personal notebook on her desk decorated with old worn-down stickers that are scratched up and fading in color.

You try to answer every question with suave, you hope your cool in her eyes, “Honestly, I like sleeping on this ship. I never realized how exhausting everything would be, especially with such a hard ass like Jimmy. I mean, Jesus, man this guy can't do anything without being such a bitch! He's always trying to make me do more and more and more like me doing the basics isn't enough. And he acts like this is like something I've done 1000 times but I'm literally doing only for the first time. And I can't believe it. He's just so aggravating, you know?”

Anya's listening earnestly, and it's riveting to have somebody genuinely sit there and listen to you. There are no accusatory glances, there's no language that has any type of anger or hindrance towards your story or how you feel. It's fully allowing you to be in the moment and be in your emotions.

You’re wondering why it’s so easy to talk to Anya when you struggle talking to anyone else, is it always this easy to talk to strangers? It’s probably why your always on online chatrooms, like the time your mom caught you on one at 3AM and almost tore you a new one. 

Anya hits you with the simple responses, “Mhm.” “Right.” “Oh my god.” In her tone, it's laid back, it makes you feel casual, and it makes you feel amazing. “What makes me smile? Honestly, I really couldn't tell you, but I promise you that the reason? That's probably on this ship, actually.”

Anya's ears perk up, and she's most definitely way more into this than you thought she'd be. Not like she wasn't into it before, but it's definitely something that's alarmed her.  “On this ship?” There’s a hum in her voice as she playfully smirks, your bite your tongue as punish before shaking your exposed palms at her to try and lower the attention to your wording.

“No, not like that, just–” Anya just dismissively hums at you, she knows something you don’t and it’s eating you alive, “I’m really only on this ship for my mom? She wants to make sure I get better opportunities when I get back. But honestly, I just can't wait to move out of this house. It's exhausting. Everything is just so exhausting, but I think it's gonna get better. Once I'm out.” Anya nods, “Once you’re out!”

You smile at this. There's something so sweet about this, thus you continue on. “Honestly, I didn't really mean to throw up on Jimmy, it was a lot in the moment and honestly it was just so icky being around him. I felt like there was hundreds of thousands of maggots just swirling around in my stomach acid and they were becoming more than my stomach acid could take and not enough was being burnt down and I just felt it just plummeting back in my throat and I just couldn't fathom being around that man anymore.” 

Oh, fuck.

The look on Anya's face is caring but there's definitely a hint of anger, irritation even, and just grief for you specifically. Anya feels for you, she honestly can't stand being around Jimmy in the minutes she had to meet him. He was just nothing more than somebody who was just super-duper grumpy with Daisuke and Swansea make little jokes about the bitter man.

Anya stops joking with Curly after making one joke and Jimmy hearing it from Curly and thus Curly mentioning Anya and thus Jimmy saying lot of things very much out of line that led to their dismissive interactions with another unless under a professional lens.

“It’s just treating him if he needs it and making sure I do the psych evals, other than that, he has no reason to be around me.” 

You respect Anya in that regard: She's very much self-oriented, if it’s hurting her, it’s out of her life like that, she snaps, and you notice the shimmer from the glitter on her pink almond nails. “Do you get them done often?”

Anya raised a brow, you point to her hands put them out to cradle her as she allows you to get a closer look, “Oh, I do ‘em myself. I used to do my mom's when I lived at home.” That’s when Anya turned your hands around, your hands were fried from the manual labor that Jimmy put you through, she winces but a light bulb above her makes her shine like a descending Angel. “I don't know if you're against it, and if you are it’s cool, but I'd really love if you let me work on your nails. If not, it's completely cool. But you know, if you let me, I'd be like super happy!” There’s a cheekiness to Anya, she’s unapologetically herself, never in a mean way but uplift others. A smile on her face, it’s subtle but there, “I’d be super happy too, if you did my nails.” Anya gives you an even bigger smile, before she slowly pulls in with a flutter of her lashes, “Oh, yeah?” You giggle at her nature, “Oh, most definitely.” 

The two of you share a giggle before she unfortunately has to dismiss you, “Studying sucks, but I don’t think my gut can take more chili fries.” Anya playfully sighs as she waves you out.

There’s a pep in your step as you walk, this pep however hushes once you hear Curly and Jimmy talking in another room, “And she completely dismissed me, as if I didn’t exist!” You listen in closely.

Obviously, they're talking about you, so you should hear it. Because they won't tell you and they never will. Maybe that's your own fault, but the more you listen to Jimmy complain, the more you wonder if Curly even cares at this point.

“Well, you didn’t really take the time to really address Anya, y’know?” He's dismissive to the fact that Curly could even be right in this scenario. With how he's been carrying himself this whole time, he's assumed that Anya should just respect him regardless.

You have no choice but to really listen to him regardless since this is really all you really have, and you'd have to hear about him talking shit about everybody later anyways. “Even then, she should respect me, I am the co-captain.” Curly sighs, “Well, you don’t really act like a nice co-captain.” There’s a stifle in his voice, a choked out laugh escapes Jimmy and you can feel the spit hit your face from memory.

“Oh, you mean be you?”  “No. I mean be more likeable, try with the others, all you do is sit here cooped up in this section of the ship barking orders at…”  Curly backpedals, your peeved that he’s not saying more, Jimmy repeats your name, you feel your back straighten at the sound.

“Listen, what goes on with the training has nothing to do with you or anyone else on this ship. Besides, you put me in charge of them, you think I’m gonna sit there and let my protege get soft like Swansea’s?” There’s an eye roll from the blond, “What are you even talking about? Swansea has Daisuke study, and he gives him tests on the material.” 

Another sigh leaves Curly, you hear those beat up shoes hit the floor as he adjusts himself before he speaks again, “Y’know what your problem is? You sit here and you constantly compare yourself to others, and when they're not exactly like you, you wanna sit there and make them feel bad for being themselves.”

'Jimmy says nothing, your shocked by that fact alone, “I got you this job because it’s easy money, Lord knows your situation before wasn’t any better than this, and instead of trying to get along with others or at least being cordial, you’re trying to self-destruct when things don’t go your way.”  

There’s a drag in the air, you peek a bit to see that Jimmy huffs and his head hangs low, he’s like a child being caught digging in the candy jar.

Curly looks irritated, it's a very different light you see him in as its rare you ever seen him disgruntled, “I really am screwing this up. I mean, have I really not been trying at all? I feel like I have. Have I really not been changing to begin with?” Jimmy mutters to himself, loud enough for you and Curly to hear since the sound of a foot echoed throughout these halls.

Curly’s features soften, “Maybe you’re right, I’m not cut out for this stuff, I should’ve just stated back.” He sighs before pulling Jimmy in for a hug. “We’ve known each other since forever, I don’t want to see you struggle like you did before, this is how you lost your last job, remember?” Jimmy doesn’t even respond, he nods with his head in his friend’s shoulder before Curly has a big smile on his and he pats his friend’s back.

“I just want what’s best for you, Jimmy.” Curly says as he pulls away, Jimmy nods again, “Yeah, I know.” It’s like he’s reflecting on himself almost, before Jimmy begins to fold in on himself, “God, I really am screwing this up.” The brunette then puts his head in his hands leaving Curly to quickly comfort the man, “Hey, you’re doing your best, I’m not expecting you to get it overnight.”  

You're in awe by them, you wonder if you should do something or at least doing something more than just watching them right now. You clear your throat causing the two to look back to you, Jimmy straightens up, that remorseful look on his face now a bittered expression that was the sourness that your existence caused him. Curly perks up, “Hey there.” Jimmy says your name, you fix your posture, “Jimmy. Curly. How’s it hanging?” “Was doing a lot better earlier.” 

God, you wanna punch this guy so fucking bad.

“Ah, I get that. I heard from Swansea that Daisuke was sniffling earlier, you probably caught it.” The man raises a brow, “How can I catch it? I only saw him once today.” You also a raise brow, “Y’know, like pathogens? He sneezes and it’s all in the air now.” Curly nods in agreement, “Yeah, we are trapped on this ship so it would be hard for something like that to just disappear in the air.” Jimmy nods alongside him, “You’re right, Curly.” 

You allow the situation roll off your back, like a duck to water, you don't let it affect you and you're glad you don't. Now Curly and Jimmy are just looking at you before Curly perks up with a little question, “I mean, didn’t you throw up earlier? You probably got it from Daisuke.”

Now you're here stuck thinking about the fact that Daisuke has such a disgusting implication of you.

“Oh, yeah, probably.” That’s when Curly looks towards Jimmy, his eyes dart towards you and then back towards Jimmy. “Maybe you should turn in, it’s been a long day, and I need you to handle the challenges for tomorrow.” Gee, thanks. You smile, eagerly, “Thank you so much, Jimmy. I really appreciate this.” You dismiss yourself because what else are you doing around these two? You don't need to be around them longer than you need to be, and just being around these two just makes you feel off. 

You quickly make your way to your room. While walking around, you however discover one of the room’s door opened, It's not in your nature to really peak. The Jimmy and Curly thing was definitely you just trying to learn more about why he was such a douchebag, and you didn't really learn much to be honest with you. 

So maybe peeking isn't gonna really help you in this situation—

“Hey, come in here, you.” The only feminine voice you'll be met with on this trip. You turn your head after walking by the door without looking, and there you're met with Anya, she's out of uniform some pajama bottoms and an oversized shirt, you notice the face on it– “You like Love Island?” Anya raises a brow, “You know Love Island?” You nod your head, “My mom’s really into it, sometimes I just watch it with her while I’m making food.”

“Cool.” 

“Yeah.”

There’s silence between the two of you, it’s nerving given that she just has this unphased expression on her face, her half-lidded eyes with a small smile that showed how happy she was to be around you had only made you worry more as you believe your overstaying your welcome by standing around her. You try to dismiss yourself—

“You wanna come watch it with me? I got a bunch of downloaded episodes.” 

You perk up at the question, not like you have anything better to do, you’re not sick and Jimmy just let you go. Anya tilts her head, awaiting your response, “So?” Your eyes widen, “Oh, yeah, of course.” The smile on Anya’s face got bigger, “Yeah, come on in.” 

©ouchthathurts please don't translate, claim as yours, redistribute and/or plagiarize in any way. likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[aloysiavirgata]

She walks in beauty, like the night

Scully in the simplest, blackest silk. Scully pale, moon-kissed, vulnerable. Scully’s hair and eyes like where the stars are born.

***

Scully comes to him when even the moon is all but asleep, like a single calla lily from a secret admirer. Unbidden. Unexpected.

Unparalleled.

“Mulder,” she says, outside his open door, in a negligee that last shade of sky blue before it goes pitch black.

Spaghetti straps and a low décolletage, though not shockingly low. Lace trim, mid thigh. It looks like something Katharine Hepburn would wear to slap you.

Not you. Him.

Specifically him.

She looks up at him through her heavy-lashed, heavy-lidded eyes.

He stares at her for his own sake because deep in his 12 year old heart, no one would ever, ever, believe that nerdy Fox Muld-

Scully takes another step closer onto the sad oatmeal carpet of his hotel room. She has such pretty ankles, she has such pretty calves. She smells like honeysuckle and hot bike tires and buttery lobster rolls and the sweetest, purest moments of his life.

She tips her face up to him, Agent Scully does, all eyes and lips and cheekbones like a geometric proof.

“God,” he says. And he means it.

***

LA belongs to the sun and Scully is a San Diego baby but he knows, he knows, she is an East Coast girl at heart. He knows she loves the first retinal purple-orange sunrises of America and the first sapphire kisses of night. He knows she loves the stars by which her father learned to navigate. He knows she loves the distant moon.

He knows she loves blue crabs and wool duffel coats and khaki shorts and aspires to East Hampton in her most secret, silent heart.

One day he will make love to her in London because she will, he knows, hark to the call of the City. She is a creature of old stone and lichen and liminal space.

She is the answer to Samson’s riddle.

***

He’d rented a jet black ‘57 Chevy Bel Air because Christ, this girl. Abductions and cancer and the most awful brutality and stolen ova and Christ; this brilliant, moonbeam girl.

She sees the car and she says nothing. But her eyes, her eyes. Her Star of India eyes.

Scully sees the car and she smiles, shy. Scully squeezes his hand.

***

He fucks her - hard, desperate - in the Chevy out over Mullholland and she cries out for him because even Saint Teresa writhed in ecstasy.

He kisses her the way a mariner kisses his homeland soil because she is his human credential. He kisses her like a Torah scroll. He shudders, murmurs I love you, I love you into the hot, sweet dark of her mouth.

***

She is bleeding, just a little. She is bleeding in the warm caress of a Southern California night. She is bleeding as though she were a virgin and maybe she is; maybe there is sex and there is fucking and there is making love and there is This.

Are you there, god? It’s me, Dana.

She touches his sleeping rosebud lips. She touches his funny nose and his beautiful jaw and she doesn’t say I love you aloud like he had because she’d learned it was shameful. She’d learned to salute.

But it’s 3 AM, neither properly morning nor properly night. It’s 3 AM and she isn’t LA pretty, not by a long shot, but she’s here with him, with Mulder, who is very LA pretty and has money besides.

She’s too short and too pale and her nose is patrician rather than cute and she gets burnt instead of tan. She doesn’t laugh in the right places at movies. She likes copper because it burns green, she likes moths more than butterflies, she can quote Jane Austen’s most acerbic lines.

She thinks of Mulder swimming hard across the Vineyard tides, Mulder with his cinnamon skin in the whipped cream breakers. Riding a red fixed-gear along Lake Tashmoo, tugging his tiny sister along. Mulder basking on the beach like a young god of summer. Mulder with his heart afire like Saint Margaret Mary Alacoque.

Her father is dead and look, look Mulder has such a tender soul even if he’s Jewish and atheist, Daddy. Mulder has eyes like fern moss.

“I love you,” she says, her eyes brimming with tears, her eyes bright as the newest stars.

[criticallyacclaimedstranger]

The Plan [Marcus Pike x f!reader]

Read on Ao3

Rating: Explicit

Fandom: The Mentalist

Pairing: Marcus Pike x you/cishet f!reader. Reader is fat/overweight but this is never explicitly mentioned. Also, reader is a lawyer. (I know nothing about lawyering.)

Tags/Warnings: Sad Marcus, alcohol mention, one night stands, fellatio mention, neighbours with benefits, safe sex, squirting, cunnilingus, reader has a difficult relationship with her family, mad dash through the airport at Christmas, trauma dumping (Marcus coming clean about his disappointment after Lisbon dumped him).

Summary: A drunken one night stand with your cute new neighbour Marcus Pike eventually leads to more. Takes place after his story arc in the show.

Words: 7,895

A/N: My first Marcus Pike fic, and also I finished a goddamn fic! There is so much cause for celebration here, folks. Remember to comment and reblog: sharing is caring.

Shout-out to @missredherring and @pazizz who read drafts and helped me forward with this story <3

Marcus Pike does not have a bitter disposition. He does not sulk, or harbor resentment. It's just not in his nature.

Until now.

There is just something so unforgivable, incomprehensible, wrong about the way Teresa Lisbon left him. She called him to say she was coming to D.C., that she would marry him, and two hours later she called again to inform him that she wasn't. That she was in love with Patrick Jane. That asshole.

Marcus has been divorced, and not even that made him spiral as hard as the breakup from Teresa. It just hit harder, because he had fallen so hard for her, for the way she dipped her gaze and chin when a smile broke out on her lips, before looking back up at him with those pretty eyes of hers. He fell for her sense of humor, her intelligence, the way it was so easy to be with her. And he really thought that she fell for him in the same way. Maybe she did - but Jane was there, in the background, confusing her, wooing her with one last big, desperate gesture. If Marcus had known that all it took to keep Teresa was to get himself arrested, he would've done that instead of bringing her takeout at work, making her morning coffee just as she liked it, loaning her his jacket when she was cold during that date, all the thousands of little things that he did for her, that he loved doing for her because he loved her so much that doing those things weren't a chore, they weren't planned, they were an honest, spontaneous expression of his feelings for her.

And then, one big, desperate gesture that rendered Marcus's all small, everyday gestures moot. And it pisses him off.

Practicality kicked in as a form of survival. He quickly cancelled the purchase of the house he had Teresa had picked out, found a condo instead, moved in with his things, and threw himself into his work. Most of the boxes were left unpacked. His place didn't feel like a home because he couldn't let it. He was supposed to share one with Teresa, and now there was just him, surrounded by moving boxes that he had to deal with but couldn't, wouldn't. What should've been a house for the two of them - maybe more in the future? - with a little garden, walls impregnated with love and excitement for a life together, sunlight through the window during long weekend mornings of slow breakfasts, putting up Christmas decorations together, all those things that he was looking forward to. Now he has a bachelor pad, in a fancy apartment building with a doorman, but a sad bachelor pad all the same. The furniture is more or less where it should be, but he hasn't bothered to plan that much. The kitchen table is too big, but he's not in any condition to sell it off and buy a new one. The bookcases are half full, and his artwork is still unhung. He really tried there, but the first painting he got his hands on was one that he had seen before him in the spacious yet cozy living-room in That House, with the fireplace, and suddenly no wall in his apartment was good enough. So he put the painting away, and the rest were left packed down.

He even started going out after work, when he couldn't stay any longer but didn't want to go home. He found a watering hole to his liking, and became a regular, nursing one whiskey after another until he could go home and fall into bed for a deep, dreamless sleep.

It's after one of those nights that he finds you, his neighbor, trying to open his front door with your key. Your clumsy yet meticulous movements tell him that you're intoxicated, and there is something endearing about the way you're frowning, the tip of your tongue sticking out the side of your mouth as you focus on sticking in the key that doesn't fit.

When Marcus comes closer, you notice him, and look up. Quickly registering that it's the workaholic neighbor that you rarely see, you just nod, and go back to trying to open the door.

"That's my door," he says, and you look up again.

"What's that?"

"That's my door. You're trying to get into my apartment."

You frown, your hand holding the key falling to your side as you process his words. You then squint at the number of the door, taking a few seconds to realize that this is, indeed, not your front door.

"Oops," you mutter, then grimace apologetically at your neighbor. "Well, this isn't embarrassing at all."

"Don't worry about it," he shrugs, fishing his own key from his pocket. You step to the side to give him access to the door, and when he stands right next to you, you can smell his cologne, sophisticated and with a hint of bergamot.

He eyes you, just as drunk as you are.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, sure. Late night. You?"

"Same." He looks so tired when he says it, but you can tell that there is a dimple aching to appear in his cheek. His face, bleary though it is, is handsome, and looks like it was made for smiling.

"What is it you do again?" you ask. You've exchanged pleasantries with him when he first moved in, but you never had the time or mental capacity to actually remember who he is.

"FBI, I investigate art theft."

"Ah, right." Yeah, that's it, something so unusual and random that one couldn't make it up. Then again, D.C. is full of people who do stuff you only hear about in movies.

"Marcus," he offers his hand, and you take it, and give him your name.

"And what is it that you do?"

"Law. I work with government contracts and related investigations at a law firm here in D.C."

"Sounds complicated."

You shrug. "I'm smart enough."

"You look good, too."

You scoff. "Are you coming on to me?"

"I'm trying." Now the smile breaks through, lighting up his whole face. Gods, but he's cute.

"Okay." You make the decision quickly, nodding at his door. "Looks like I picked the right door, after all."

Marcus unlocks the door and opens it for you.

His head is pounding, and his mouth is dry when he wakes up. For a moment, he doesn't know what day it is, what he's supposed to do, or what happened last night, but then the flashbacks start to put things together. The flirty neighbor. Her naked skin. Her alcohol-fuming kisses.

He turns his head and sees you, still asleep next to him. Oh, okay.

Sitting up slowly, he gets his bearings before swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. Clothes are strewn over the floor. Right next to the bed is a used condom, tied up and looking sad and abandoned. Okay, good, at least he remembered to use protection. He picks it up and takes it to the bathroom, where he disposes of it before washing his hands and face.

He hears the rustle of bedsheets, and returns to the bedroom, realizing that he's naked. You might not want to be greeted by a naked stranger first thing. Looking around for his underwear, he's nevertheless too slow in finding them: you're already sitting up and rubbing your forehead.

He clears his throat. "Good morning."

Your smile is a little lopsided. "Morning."

"You want breakfast?" Marcus immediately offers, wanting to do the gentlemanly thing before he sends you off so that he can take about ten aspirins, and go to work. "And I'll put out a clean towel for you so that you can use the shower."

"Appreciate it, but I live right next door," you point out as you get out of bed. You're as naked as he is, and Marcus tries very hard not to ogle your body for what he suspects will be the last time.

"I don't mind."

"Thanks, but I have to get to work." You pick up and put on your panties, bra, skirt, shirt. Marcus spots his boxer briefs, and pulls them on.

"Okay, well... I had a good time."

"I did too."

Now you're standing right in front of him, buttoning up your silk shirt. Even with your makeup smudged out, and terrible morning breath, you look really nice.

"I gotta ask you something, though, because my memory is a little... hazy." Your cheekbones seem to glow, and he realizes that you're blushing.

"Yeah?"

"I sucked your dick, didn't I?"

Marcus feels the heat rise to his ears. "Um... well... yes, you did."

"Well?"

"What?"

"Did I do it well?"

"I think so."

You grin at him. "You don't remember much either, do you?"

"It was all consensual, if that's what you're asking."

"Oh, I have no doubt about that." You surprise him by placing your hand on his naked chest. His heart skips a beat, and he hopes that you won't notice.

"I really have to go, but maybe I'll see you again soon?" you ask softly, and Marcus finds himself relaxing.

"I'd like that."

You even kiss him good-bye, a quick, closed-mouth peck to keep morning breaths from mixing, before you grab your shoes, your purse (muttering under your breath about several emails, and two missed calls), and head over next door.

Marcus, still only wearing his underwear, looks thoughtfully at the closed door for a long while before going into the kitchen with the too big table to make coffee.

Work occupies most of your waking hours, six days a week, often seven. You don't see Marcus again for weeks, don't hear any sounds from his apartment during the hours you're home and awake. Barely having time to think about him, your thoughts nevertheless stray to him when you're standing in the shower or going to bed at night. You haven't been able to fit a boyfriend into your life in a long time, and casual hook-ups have rarely left you satisfied, but even with your hazy memories of the night with Marcus, you left his apartment that morning with a feeling that it was good. So that's where your thoughts go when you touch yourself, the few times you have the energy to do so.

One Friday night, after a long but satisfying week that ended with a contract being accepted as it was, which meant you could have a weekend with only a couple of hours of work from home, you're hurrying home with Chinese takeout in a bag. Looking forward to a quiet night in front of the TV, with an early morning at the gym the following day, you run into Marcus on your way into your apartment building.

"Hi," you smile, immediately noticing how he seems to square his shoulders when he sees you. "Going out?"

"Yeah," he nods, moving his weight from one foot to the other as he takes in your food bag. "And you're staying in?"

"Finally, a Friday night without work," you acknowledge. Marcus's smile lets you know that he knows about that all too well.

"Enjoy."

"You too, you going somewhere nice?"

"No, I mean... I'm just going by myself."

There is something so despondent about the way he averts his eyes when confessing to going out alone. You're not in a position to start saving people, but you see an opening here.

"Join me for dinner instead, Marcus."

"I don't want to bother you."

"It's no bother," you shake your head, now moving towards the elevator while beckoning him to follow you. "Come on, before the food gets cold. There's enough here for two, I always buy extra."

He hesitates for only a split second, you can see it in how his body seems to pull him away, out to some sad bar with too much to drink. Instead, he nods, smiles softly, and follows you. He insists on bringing a bottle of wine from his place, and you accept.

You find out more about him that night, as you share your takeout with him, and he shares his wine. He tells you of heartache, only summarily, clearly not wanting you to feel sorry for him, but you can tell that he's been torn up about the "amicable" break-up. He also mentions that he's been married, and you wonder what's wrong with him. He seems perfectly nice and normal, why hasn't he been able to keep a woman? To his credit, he never complains about nice guys finishing last, only states that maybe he's meant to focus on his career.

"There's a lot to be said about having a good career," you agree. Marcus sips his wine with a small smile.

"Work doesn't break your heart."

"That, too."

"I take it you don't have a partner who'll suddenly come home to find me in his kitchen?" he jokes lightly, but you recognize the question for what it is: he wants to know if you're Seeing Anyone.

"Not one for relationships," you shrug.

"You don't long for anyone to snuggle up with in front of the TV on a Friday night?"

"I don't have time. And they never seem to understand that. Or they're working, too." You pick at the scraps in your takeout box with the chopsticks. "And I seem to attract douchebags. Dunno if it comes with the field in which I work. I always seem to go out with terrible lawyer guys."

Marcus chuckles. "Their loss."

"I miss having sex, though." You look him in the eye, and his tongue slides over his lower lip, catching some runaway sauce.

"Yeah?"

You nod, and feel your cheeks heat up. You're a no-nonsense person, but not always this forward with men. But it's easy with Marcus. He takes it all in stride, doesn't seem to think you're aggressive, or slutty, he just smiles and tells you that he misses sex too.

"But what we had was okay, though?" he adds. "Even if neither one of us seems to remember it that well."

"It was," you agree, raising the glass to your lips and draining the rest of the wine. After putting it back down, you tilt your head and bite your lower lip.

"You wanna do it again? Now that we're sober and all?"

"I'm a little tipsy," he warns you with a chuckle, "But I'm in."

Both of you get up at the same time, chairs scraping the floor simultaneously in the kitchen that mirrors his own but has a table that fits it. All of your apartment just fits in a way his half-assed dwelling doesn't. He realizes that it's because your apartment is a home, decorated and lived-in, warm colors and fabrics, Scandinavian wallpapers in bold but tasteful patterns that he himself would never consider but that feel right here.

You step up to him, snugly fitting yourself to his frame, and place your hands on his narrow hips as you kiss him. The two glasses of wine that you've had have laid a warm, cozy blanket over your busy mind, and now you're fully focused on Marcus, whose soft, plump lips are meeting yours as his arms go around your waist.

You make your way to the bedroom, leaving a trail of clothes as you kiss and get undressed, get undressed and kiss. The bed in unmade, you just threw the covers to the side when you got up this morning. Wearing only your underwear, you lay down, pull Marcus over you, rake your fingers through his hair, moan when he palms your plump tits through the bra.

"Tell me what you like," he asks you hoarsely. You hum when he scatters kisses along the lace trim of your bra.

"That's a good start."

He hums back as he pops your tits out of your bra and lick around the nipples.

"Go on," he asks, and a shiver runs down your spine at the low barytone of his voice. You reach around to unhook your bra, and Marcus takes it off you and flings it to the side before burying his face between your breasts.

"You eat pussy?" you ask him breathlessly, and he looks up at you.

"Of course."

"Not everybody does," you wink, and he shakes his head.

"Their loss."

He's in a hurry, you note, but it's endearing in an unexpected way. When he pulls down your panties and gets settled, your legs over his shoulders, you remember to give him a warning.

"I, uh, I don't orgasm from oral, just so you know."

"Really?" His breath is hot against your folds, but he's looking up at you with attentive eyes.

"Yeah. It's not a comment on your skills, I just need you to know it," you shrug, accustomed to always having to tread carefully around the matter. Too many men get offended or take it as a challenge.

"Thanks for telling me," Marcus smiles in a way that's way too innocent and adorable for a man who's got his face inches away from your pussy. "But do you really want me to...?"

"Oh God, yes!" you reassure him. "I enjoy it a lot, and it gets me wet. I just can't cum, I need vaginal stimulation for that."

"You got it," he pats your thigh lightly before his tongue connects with your folds, and your eyes fall shut as you hand yourself over to the pleasure, to Marcus's deftly dancing tongue. He's good, he's attentive and eager, yet you don't get the feeling that he's trying to prove you wrong, to make you orgasm. Lord knows men have tries that in the past, and it's just stressful. No, he just seems to enjoy your moans, the way you writhe and grab his hands, the twitches of your pelvis when he does something extraordinary.

"Goddddd, Marcus, that's so fucking good..." you wail when he alternates between sucking your clit and licking it with a quick tongue. He's getting louder, sloppier, and you know you're dripping. Your clit is throbbing, and you know this is the perfect time to speed things up. You push him away, your thighs closing around his head, and Marcus retreats, chin glistening as he licks his lips.

"You okay?" he wants to know. You nod, breathless and with a pounding heart.

"Need to fuck you."

He scrambles up for a deep kiss, wet and lewd, before you push him over to get a condom from your nightstand. He drapes himself over you as you stretch across the bed, and peppers your back with kisses, like he's unable to stay away from you. You roll around, finding yourself caged between his strong arms, and you pull him down for more kissing with lips swollen and dry but still wanting more.

"How do you want me?" he gasps between the kisses as you pull down his underwear and paw at his small butt.

"Can I be on top?"

He rolls over onto his back immediately, watching you with open-mouth excitement when you remove his shorts and put on the rubber. When you finally sink down on his length, his fingers dig into your thighs as his breath hitches.

"Oh, that feels good..."

"Uh-huh," you sigh, staying still for a moment to adjust to his cock inside of you. You smile inwardly as you find yourself thinking about just how perfectly sized it is: thick but not too long.

"What?"

Your eyes open to find Marcus grinning at you.

"What what?" you grin back. He caresses your hips slowly.

"You looked like you had something to say."

"I was just thinking about what a perfect, gorgeous dick you have."

His cheeks turn pink. "Thank you. It came with the body."

You chuckle and start a slow grind, hips moving lazily back and forth as you seek out the right spots, the right rhythm. Finding it, you plant your hands on Marcus's chest and let out a low moan as you go slightly faster.

"That right for you?" he huffs, sitting up to catch a nipple in his mouth.

"Mmmfuckyes..."

You drop your hand to where your bodies meet, fingers seeking out your clit. Pleasure zaps through your body when you rub it, and you clench tightly around Marcus, causing him to dig his fingers into the soft flesh of your hips, both of you groaning.

"So good," he gripes, soothing the sting of his fingertips by rubbing his palms over the affected areas before he moves his fingers to your front. "Need a hand?"

"'m good," you gasp, your free arm slinging around his neck. You clench around him again, and Marcus's hips jut upwards, slamming into you with a force that makes you choke.

"Fuck! God, Marcus, that was..."

"Can we try something?" he pants, pulling you in for a kiss. "Please?"

"Okay?" you frown, a little frustrated at being interrupted, but Marcus gestures for you to rise, so you do as he asks, and let him pull you down with him.

"Get on top of me again, but lie down," he instructs you. You must look doubtful because he immediately adds:

"Just try it, if you don't like it, we can go back to what you were doing."

"I'll try anything once," you shrug, and get on top of him again, this time with your back turned to him. Marcus pulls you down, positioning you on top of him, legs spread, his own legs on the outside of yours. You hesitate for a second, the reality of your weight sometimes haunting your mind, but Marcus insists.

"Just come here, baby," he tells you softly, so you let him take your weight. One of his arms sneaks up the side of your ribcage to cup a breast. With the other, he guides himself into you, pushing himself in with an upward thrust of his hips. You choke on your breath and let your head hang back on his shoulder, one arm seeking a position to support you, the other coming around Marcus's neck when he presses a toothy kiss to your neck. He thrusts into you again, fingers playing with your nipple, and then his other hand comes to rub your clit.

You keen at the sudden intensity, back arching on top of him, and he plants his feet more firmly on the mattress.

"Fuck," you gasp, "that's good, Marcus, this is good..."

He sucks a kiss to your neck, his teeth stinging just a little, and your legs kick in search of a hold so that you can stay just above him. He slips out, and you whimper.

"Relax," he soothes you, thumb abandoning your clit to instead guide himself back into you. "Put your weight on me, I can take it."

You follow his instructions, back sinking down onto his chest and stomach, pelvis angling slightly to help him stay inside you. His fingers return to tease your clit, and your head falls back onto his shoulder as he settles into a rhythm that makes your toes curl.

"That's it," he praises you, his breath hot against your ear. "Just like that, take it, just enjoy it, let me take care of you."

The slow drag of his cock against your slick walls is maddening in how it pushes at your spot but leaves you wanting more. You buck your hips down eagerly.

"Faster, please, Marcus."

He obeys immediately, moaning at how you immediately clench around him. Your fingers thread through his hair, the other hand fists into the sheets. The pressure on that one spot inside you is growing in intensity, insanely, perfectly, knocking your breath out with each jab of Marcus's cock against it. Your moans become whimpers, a moan too complex a sound for you at this point, when you are so close, so utterly close to the climax that you now need as much as you need air -

The release floods your body and your cunt, and for a split second you're horrified at the wet feeling on your thighs, the rippling sound, until you realize that you squirted. A half moan, half giggle escapes you as you press your thighs together as if to lock in the orgasm that pulsates through your cunt and lower belly. Marcus gasps an excited Fuck, yes before bucking up a couple of errant times, and then relaxing down. He kisses your temple, drags his soaked fingers up over your soft belly, making you squirm.

"Sorry," he murmurs throatily. You murmur something back and slide down next to him. Everything between your legs seems wet and now cold, but you're still prickling all over with excitement.

Marcus heaves a deep sigh before turning his face to you. "That was so hot."

"I didn't know I could do that with a man."

"You haven't before?"

You shake your head. Marcus smiles softly.

"I'm honored. Was it good?"

"Yeah. How about you?"

"So fucking good."

You smile back at him before turning your face back towards the ceiling, and taking a deep breath that you sigh out audibly. Your body relaxes quickly, a muscle in your lower back mutters about the position you just were in, but you feel extremely good, and wrung out in a fantastic way. In the corner of your eye, you catch Marcus taking the condom off, before getting up to take it to the trash. When he returns, he looks around, looking for his clothes. You roll over onto your side.

"You don't have to leave, you know," you tell him quietly. Marcus stops, boxers in hand.

"Yeah?"

"I mean... don't get me wrong, I'm not looking for a relationship," you hurry to assure him. "But I wouldn't mind you staying over. Unless you have plans?"

"I don't."

He drops the boxers, and slides back into bed, next to you. You smile a little wryly.

"The sheets are wet. I'll change them, feel free to grab a shower.

"Soon," Marcus tells you, low voice heavy with a calm confidence. "I suggest we wet them a little more first."

Your deal with Marcus is simple and beautiful: sex, with or without staying the night. The occasional take-out dinner. Quickies when you run into each other in the corridor outside your front doors, with ten minutes to spare. It's undemanding, friendly, mutually satisfying. Uncomplicated, with no romantic feelings involved, so nobody can get hurt.

Marcus is an active lover who smoothly takes charge. Not bossy, but firm and empathic, and not afraid of using aids of different kinds to raise your orgasms to the next level. He's not opposed to fucking you fully clothed in the morning and leaving you wanting as you go to work with his cold cum in your panties, shot there after he removed the rubber after fucking you.

It is, in short, the perfect set-up.

Fall passes by, and you see yourself forced to fly out to see your family over Thanksgiving. You spend as much time as you can working in your childhood room, however. Your parents do not understand your choice of profession, your mother does not see how a woman of your age has chosen to be childless. Your older brother knocked his girlfriend up at sixteen, your younger sister was married at eighteen and divorced at twenty-eight. You love them, but you don't have a lot in common with them, and even if your siblings at least pretend to understand your life choices, their contempt steeped in jealousy of your life shines through at times. Your parents choose to simply ignore the life you have built for yourself in D.C., talking instead about Mrs. McCall next door, Annie down the street, Cybil in town, Kearney at the gas station, as if you knew any of them or cared about what they said about Kayleigh's twins.

You endure for two nights, and text Marcus from the airport, before boarding: I'll be home after nine tonight. You free?

He replies almost immediately: I'll pick you up at the airport.

You text him the flight number before turning off your phone, settling for a three-hour nap in lieu of working.

When you finally land, puffy-faced but breathing freely now that you're back in the city you call home, Marcus is waiting for you in arrivals. The way his smile lights up his eyes when he sees you makes your heart miss a beat. There is something there that's beyond what the two of you have, something much more sincere.

You shake it off and smile back as you walk up to him. He leans forward, like he's about to kiss you, but ends up giving you an awkward half-hug.

"Welcome home."

"Thanks. And thank you for picking me up."

"My pleasure."

The two of you turn and start walking towards the exit. Marcus offers to take your carry-on wheelie bag, but you decline, accustomed as you are to carrying your own luggage yourself.

In the car, he asks you how your Thanksgiving was.

"As holidays at my parents' usually are. One night would've been enough."

"That bad, huh?"

"Yeah. It's just..." You rub your forehead. "Whenever I visit, I feel trapped. Everything back home is... small. People are kind, yes, but they're small-minded. The town is small. The spaces in which to move, physically and mentally, are small. And I feel like some kind of big city snob who comes to visit twice a year, scoffs at their very ordinary and, as far as I know, happy lives, and then flies back to my vegan frappuccinos and twenty-four-hour sushi restaurants."

Marcus chuckles low. "I think I know what you mean. But it's hard for me to imagine that you'd be a snob about anything."

"I probably am. But I... I don't know, I outgrew that town when I was fifteen. Couldn't get out fast enough. And I don't like going back."

"Does your family support your choices?"

You shrug. "Yes and no. Mom and dad are proud, I guess, but at the same time they don't have any idea what it is that I do. 'If you wanted to be a lawyer, couldn't you be one here? Where it's not as stressful and you could start a family, and work normal hours?' As if I could practice the law I'm interested in over there."

"What's the most common type of lawyer in your hometown?"

"General practitioners who do a little bit of everything, wills mostly. And there are three, I think."

"Wow."

"Exactly."

The conversation turns to other subjects as Marcus drives the two of you to your apartment building. As he parks in his spot in the underground garage, you place your hand onto his thigh. He turns off the engine and looks at you.

"Thanks for picking me up," you tell him quietly. His hand comes to rest on top of yours.

"No problem."

"You have any plans for tonight?"

He shakes his head, then leans forward over the middle console as you reach across the same for a kiss. His fingers thread into your hair before closing around the back of your head to bring you in, and you sigh softly against his lips as you feel the rest of the pressure from your Thanksgiving visit melt away. If the town you grew up in felt unfamiliar and uncomfortable, D.C. and Marcus feel like home. And there's nothing you want to do more now than be with Marcus in this city.

You break the kiss and lower your gaze to his fly, where your fingers are already working on unzipping him. Marcus exhales in an audible sigh.

"You missed me that much?"

"Don't get any ideas," you warn him before bowing down over his lap.

Later, when you are freshly showered, and lying awake in Marcus's bed with him deeply asleep next to you, you wonder when his presence at night became such a comfort for you.

Marcus visits his parents over Christmas. You manage to convince yours that you're way too busy and the holidays too short for you to fly out. Settling in for a couple of days off work, you plan to go to the gym, meet friends, and maybe finally get through that book you started three months ago. You plan for simple yet delicious meals and come home with bags full of groceries and bottles of wine that you balance in your arms as you're digging for the keys in your pocket.

"Lemme get that."

Marcus appears by your side, taking a grocery bag from you.

"Thanks."

You manage to let yourself in, and Marcus follows you to the kitchen, where he leaves the bag on the table.

"Hi," he smiles. There is something so endearing about this man, his smile lights up the whole room, you can't possibly keep from smiling back at him.

"Hi. I thought you already left for the airport?"

"Just on my way now. Glad I caught you."

"Oh?" You unbutton your coat, unwrap the scarf from around your neck. "What's up?"

"Just... I wanted to see you before I left. Wish you happy holidays."

"Right." You take off your coat and leave it over the back of a kitchen chair. "Well... happy holidays, Marcus. I hope you have a nice weekend with your parents."

"Thanks." He clears his throat, looks down and scratches the back of his head. "Do you have any plans for New Year’s Eve?"

"Not that I know of."

"Do you maybe... want to do something?"

"Sure," you nod, a warmth spreading in your belly. "Like, dinner?"

"I was thinking Hirschhorn? You said you were curious about their special exhibit. Then dinner, and maybe a movie, if you're not opposed to spending so much time with me at once?"

You feel your cheeks heat up a little. "I don't mind at all. That sounds lovely."

His smile widens, his warm eyes glitter. "Great. I'll get back to you as soon as I return."

He kisses your cheek before leaving, his hand resting momentarily on your arm. When he closes the door behind him, the apartment feels empty.

That emptiness stays with you over the holidays. You're enjoying the time off, yes, and downright cherish not having to spend time with your family. You were looking forward to Christmas eve drinks with a couple of friends but are disappointed when they only talk about holiday preparations, gift shopping, and visiting in-laws. The detachment makes you annoyed. It's not that you want that kind of life, you don't want kids and a house and Thanksgiving dinners and all of that. But there doesn't seem to be any alternatives. You get the feeling that they feel sorry for you, that they think you should look up from your laptop once in a while, go dating, settle down, maybe work less.

Always work less. You love your job so much, maybe you won’t forever, but right now you do, and it doesn’t feel taxing when it gives you the gratification it does.

You grab a cab home, earlier than you thought and morose for not getting the carefree night you had planned for. Maybe it's your own fault for thinking that people with families wouldn't have changed.

You weigh your phone in your hand for a couple of blocks before texting Marcus.

Hope you're having a better time than I am. Just getting home after drinks, and realized I have nothing in common with my friends anymore :/

You regret the text as soon as you've sent it. It sounds whiny, and you know that you're being unfair to your friends. But Marcus replies almost immediately:

Sorry to hear that. Wish I was there to make you feel better.

You smile, and your heart skips a beat. He always knows what to say.

It is what it is. Early night for me.

He replies with a Santa emoji that makes you chuckle.

Too old for Santa, you type back. Or too naughty. Either way, he's not coming.

Only man who should come in your apartment is me ;)

You stare at the message, cheeks heating as you lick your lips. Your brain scrambles for an answer to match his tone.

I'll be the judge of that, mister. If you're away for too long, I might get lonely.

The reply comes almost immediately.

I'll be back before you know it.

Your heart is fluttering like a butterfly inside your ribcage, and you react with a thumb up to the last message. For the rest of the cab ride, you're chewing on your lower lip while looking out the window, decorated windows racing past you as the cab driver navigates towards your apartment building.

You fall asleep in front of the TV and are awakened by a text.

You up?

You rub your eyes, realize that you're still wearing makeup, and curse low.

It's two am.

Marcus's name immediately lights up on the phone, and you answer the call.

"What's up?"

"Sorry to wake you."

"That's fine, I was on the couch. Gotta schlep my ass to bed," you yawn as you turn off the TV, and stand up, scratching your head.

"I'm outside."

"What?"

"I'm outside your door."

You frown, trying to understand what he's saying. "What are you doing there?"

"Just open?"

Call still active and phone held to your ear, you walk over to the front door, and unlock it. And there Marcus is, holding his phone but lowering his hand and ending the call while smiling wryly at you.

"Hi."

"What... why aren't you at your parents'?" you stutter, still holding the phone like you're talking to him through it.

"Because I can't do this at my parents'." He steps up to you, cups your cheek, and brings his lips to yours. His face is cold, so you understand that he has just arrived from the airport. Your sleep-riddled brain still doesn't understand, and Marcus breaks the kiss, breathing softly against your lips before drawing back.

"Did I... fuck this up now?"

You lick your lips and realize that you're feeling calm and steady in a way you no longer do when he's not around. You grab him by the jacket lapel and pull him in through the door.

"No," you reply, a shiver running through you when he puts his arms around you. "No, you did just the right thing."

You don't use your tub as often as you would like to, yet it was one of the main reasons why you bought your apartment. It's spacious, has gorgeous vintage style brass faucets, and is placed by the window, from which you can see the park, now wearing a white winter coat of snow, on the other side of the street. The shower booth is at the back wall of the bathroom and your busy lifestyle has you favoring quick showers instead of long, luxurious baths.

Now, however, you're stretched out languidly in Marcus's arms, the back of your head on his shoulder, his hairy thighs pressing up against you on either side. The water is hot and scented with oils, and if the orgasms you had before getting out of bed hadn't relaxed you, this would definitely take away the last vestiges of stress knotting your muscles.

"This is a really nice tub," Marcus mumbles into your ear, his hand running up the inside of your arm, resting on the edge of the tub. "Wish I had one."

"You're welcome to use mine," you smile, just as his hand disappears into the water, finding your breast and cupping it, thumb lazily stroking the nipple.

"I like your apartment better anyway," he admits. "Mine doesn't feel like a home."

"That's just because you haven't unpacked."

He raises his shoulders in a shrug. "Been busy."

"Doesn't help much that you're fucking me every time you're off work."

“One could even say it’s your fault I haven’t unpacked,” he muses, lips touching your temple. You shake your head, hand finding his and leading it away from your breast.

“Nuh-uh, you don’t get to pin this on me.” There is no vehemence in your voice, and even if Marcus can’t see your face, he can plainly hear the smile threatening to break out.

“I had to try.”

You bring your hand back to your chest, and sigh when his fingers brush over your nipple. It would be so easy to just let things slide, enjoy his hands, his mouth, his cock that’s resting softly against your lower back… But your interest is piqued.

“Why haven’t you unpacked, Marcus?” you ask quietly. “I’ve seen that you have painting just waiting to be hung on the walls and given how much you like to criticize my dentist’s office artwork from Ikea, I can’t imagine why you haven’t done more to decorate your apartment.”

His hand stills, and you feel him swallow. He clears his throat, sighs, clearly stalling, but you don’t show mercy. You want to know.

“I guess… I thought I’d be making a home with someone. And when that didn’t happen, I didn’t like the idea anymore.”

You braid your fingers with his, the water gently rippling with your movement.

“Your ex?”

“Yeah. Teresa.”

“What happened?” He’s mentioned some tragic breakup but never specified, and you’ve never asked. Now, however, you’re asking. You want this puzzle piece to fit right, want to know everything there is to know about Marcus Pike.

“I don’t want to burden you with that…”

“I want to know, Marcus.”

He hesitates, but eventually tells you how his ex, a smart, beautiful woman that he fell head over heels for and eventually proposed to, accepted his proposal over the phone but called again thirty minutes later to tell him that she was leaving him for a coworker. Marcus had been transferred to D.C., had asked Teresa to come with, had a plan for a life together, and she turned out to be in love with a coworker: a charming, unreliable man who worked out an elaborate scheme to make her choose him instead of Marcus.

You’re shocked to silence when he stops talking, an array of emotions simmering inside you. When Marcus speaks your name, the first one to burst is anger.

“What a cunt!”

Marcus sputters your name, but you don’t feel bad.

“You know I’m right!”

“No need for language like that,” he protests, but you can sense a change in him. It’s like something’s loosened in him. Even if you can’t see his face in this position, you can feel it in how his body feels against yours.

“I’m sorry, but that behavior is despicable. And from what you’ve told me about that asshole that she went with because of you, I’d say they deserve each other.”

He shrugs. “Or maybe I was too pushy. We didn’t date for long before I asked her to marry me. I should’ve given her more time.”

You turn around in his arms so that you can meet his flickering gaze. Raising your hand to his cheek, you caress the slightly scratchy surface that sorely needs a razor.

“If it feels right, it feels right,” you tell him softly. “There’s no shame in being open and honest about your feelings, Marcus.”

He blinks, and for a second you think his eyes look shiny. His lower jaw moves as he swallows.

“Thank you,” he eventually mumbles. “I don’t want to sound like I’m making excuses but… I did feel I was being straight with her. And she… really fucking hurt me.”

“Yeah, she did.”

His stare is suddenly relentless.

“Will you? Hurt me, I mean?”

You feel nothing but calm. “Marcus, I like you a lot. This is more than just sex now. But I won’t marry you in six months, and I don’t need you to have a plan for us. I like my job, I have a good career that I won’t give up. I don’t want kids, but I like being with you, and I want to keep being with you, not just have sex but do other stuff with you.”

He smiles at that and casts his eyes down. You lean forward to press a small kiss to his lips.

“And I will help you to unpack your shit, and I will come with you to get a new kitchen table tomorrow when the stores open. Because that huge monster you have jamming up your kitchen has got to go.”

“Not tomorrow,” he immediately tells you, and you quirk an eyebrow. “Because tomorrow I’m taking you to the museum, out for a meal, and then we’re watching Casablanca.”

You chuckle. “It’s a deal.”

He pulls you in for a deeper kiss, water splashing when his arms go around you.

“For the record,” he murmurs against your lips, “I like you too.”

“That’s a relief,” you smile, before a gasp escapes your lips; Marcus’s hand has slid down your soft stomach to the apex of your thighs, and one finger is slowly circling your clit.

“Open your legs,” he whispers, breath almost scorching your cheek that is already warm from the water and your rising desire. You move around, legs and hips repositioning themselves so that he can cup his big hand over your sex.

“Marcus,” you breathe in a low moan, “I already came twice this morning…”

“And you’ll come a third time,” he promises as he slides a finger inside your warm heat, rolling a nipple between two fingers of his other hand. You curl your arm back and around his neck, seek his lips for more kisses, push down against his hardening cock to make him gasp into your mouth. Thumb on your clit, he adds a second finger to your pussy, fucking you slowly as you exchange moans along with your kisses. Your hips jut upwards when he hits the right spot, and then he stays on it, water splashing over the edges of the tub when he goes increases speed. Your hand dives underneath the surface to find his cock, and a strangled moan travels from Marcus’s mouth to yours when your fingers close around the stiff length. When he slows down, so do you, when he fucks you faster, your hand works him faster.

The climax reaches both of you at the same time, your bodies tightening up, Marcus’s hips jerking up as your thighs clamp shut, cries bouncing off the tiles as you press your bodies together. As silence falls, the water stills and your hearts return to their normal rhythms, and Marcus’s lips are on your temple.

“Fuck, you’re amazing.”

“So are you,” you hum, a ripple of lingering pleasure making your legs twitch. He kisses you again, a light smattering of kisses over your temple, brow, cheekbone, before reaching your mouth. That last kiss is deep and slow, loving, and intimate in a way you haven’t had with him before. It’s unnerving, almost scary, but there is something so comforting about Marcus’s broad-shouldered body underneath you, something that makes you embrace the unknown.

“Happy Christmas, baby.”

The underwhelming meeting with your friends, the flirty texting with Marcus, that feels like weeks ago. But it was only last night, and your world has been thoroughly rocked since then.

“Happy Christmas, Marcus.”

[faghubby]

kinky marriage

"Please don't stop, fuck me" Paul moaned. I grew tired and pulled my strapon out of his ass.

"I'm tired sweety. Do you want to ride it?" I asked. I rolled on my back and Paul jumped up and his cock swallowed my toy easily. He rode my toy for another 5 minutes before his cock Leaked cum all over my stomach.

Paul rolled over and laid next to me.

"Paul should I get you a bigger cock" I asked mostly teasing.

"I love your cock baby" Paul said

"I know but would you want to try a thicker one?" I teased his soft dick. He fell silent.

"Okay lazy bones get up" I told him pushing him off the bed. He grabbed his underwear and raced off the the bathroom. He always did this his hole stretched out he felt like he had to potty. When he came out I was already dressed. And fixing my hair. I pinched his butt.

"No panties bitch boy" I teased. He made a look he hated when I teased him about being girlie. Just because he liked to get pegged." He got dressed and came out to the kitchen. Where he saw Teresa sitting there waiting.

"Wow you guys are very vocal" she laughed. Teresa and I were life long friends. She also lived just across the street.

"Who let you in?" Paul said annoyed. I came up behind him and gropped his sore ass. He fell silent, not sure if was to stop from moaning or just not to upset me.

"Relax stud muffin, Kelly told me about your kink months ago. She didn't tell me how much you begged for it" Teresa could be a total bitch.

"TEE!" I scolded. Paul looked at me annoyed but we would talk about it later he knew Tee would take my side and two against one. Paul stormed out.

"Think he be in a better mood after getting railed. You never told me how vocal he is" Teresa laughed.

"Stop" I laughed softly. Checking to see if Paul was still in ear shot. I changed the subject and poured Teresa a glass of wine. We heard Tom go outside.

"This all started because you refused to suck his cock?" Teresa asked.

"Why are you so obsessed with this?" I shot back. Teresa looked at me like I was crazy.

"Okay, yeah I don't like to suck cock. So I told him I would do anything else. He beat around the bushes a bit but then confessed what he wanted. So once a month I peg him." I explained

"Does he fuck you?" She asked.

"Of course" I responded confused

"I mean in the ass?" Teresa clarified

"A few times, but no not really" I told her.

"And you only cum when he goes down on you?" She said. I had told her this before.

"I'm not telling you anything anymore" I told her.

"What if I let you fuck me with your strap on" Teresa asked

"You need a bigger one slut" I shot back. We had a few more glasses of wine.

"Please don't tease Paul anymore" I asked her she agreed. But then said

"Maybe I should just suck his cock" she burst out laughing.

"You need a bigger one" I said without thinking. We both burst out laughing. Paul came back in and we ordered a pizza. Teresa was nice and stopped teasing him. After we ate Teresa went home. I walked straight up to Paul and grabbed his ass.

"Do you want a round two?" I teased. We never did the pegging thing but once a month. Paul looked at me with surprise in his eyes.

"You don't mind" he said almost like he didn't mean to say it out loud.

"Baby, I would fuck you everyday if that's what you want" I said running my hand across his face then kissing him. I took his hand and led him to the bedroom. The toy was on the sink in the bathroom. Paul grabbed it and for the first time helped me put it on. Tighting the straps. He was on his knees as he did. He leaned forward and kissed the tip of the toy. I didn't do anything I just watched. I had been careful to choose a toy that didn't look like a penis. I leaned forward a bit. The toy slid across his cheek. I cupped his face with my hand he looked up at me. I looked at him trusting to tell him it was okay if her wanted. I positioned the toy at his lips he parted his lips. I just smiled.

He leaned forward and took it in his mouth. I let him explore I didn't do anything but stand there. I ran my hand thru his hair. His eyes closed I watched as he sucked my fake cock. I started to move my hips. He toke more of the toy. Soon he was sucking all 5 inches.

I was so turned on I could feel my juices flowing. Paul was definitely enjoying what he was doing. I lifted my foot and ran it across the bulge in his pants. As I did Paul's body jerked he stopped sucking and grabbed my legs as he moaned and wimpered. He had just cum in his pants I thought. Paul recovered and looked at me embarrassed. I kneeled down.

"It's okay sweety" I said hugging him.

"You won't tell" he said almost in tears.

"I swear not a word" I told him. Helped him up and took him to the bathroom. I undressed him. He blushed when I pulled off his cum filled panties.

"Julie I'm sorry" he whispered, I kissed him he stood naked before me. I felt powerful having him so vulnerable. I helped him into the tub. He sank down into the perfumed water.

"Have you ever done anything like that before?" I asked as I washed his chest with a washcloth. "With a boy?"

I reached down and grabbed his dick. I massaged his soft penis.

"No, I just " he started but fell silent.

"Paul, your in a safe space" I assured him. His penis got hard again he never got hard this fast after cumming.

"Scoot up on the edge of the tub" I told him, he lifted himself and I stroked his dick. I leaned forward and took his penis in my mouth before I even closed my mouth he pumped his load into my mouth. I swallowed. Paul leaned forward and kissed me. He must of tasted his own cum. Paul slipped back into the tub. I left him alone. I was in bed when Paul got out of the tub. He came in wrapped in just a towel.

"Come you can sleep naked" I said pulling back the covers. Paul crawled into bed, he tried to initiate sex.

"Paul I am still on my period" I told him. I didn't like sex during my period. Which is why I usually picked this week to peg him. But I had gotten such a thrill out of him being naked before me. And sucking my toy. I reached over and grabbed his dick he was soft.

"I just want to make you happy" he moaned.

"You do baby" I assured him. "Do you want to talk about it?" I asked rolling over to face him.

"Greg" he mumbled.

"What about him?" I asked . Greg was his long term friend since they where kids, he was the best man at out wedding.

"When we where in 9th grade" he said. Letting me fill in the blanks.

"You sucked his cock. Well everyone experiments?" I held him tight for being brave and telling me. Paul looked at me as if he was about to cry.

"It went on for awhile" he tried to open up. I just kissed him again.

"For over a year. Till we both got girlfriends" he spit out I could see the relief on his face. Telling his biggest secret.

"Thank you for telling me. Baby" I cuddled even closer to him.

"Your not mad?" He said as if he was free.

"No, sweety I love you and am glad you told me" we can talk more about it tomorrow if you like. He closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.

In the morning I woke to Paul penis Rick hard poking me in the thigh. I smiled I had unlocked something he was never like this. I mean sure wake up with morning wood but not after last night. I rolled over and stroked him. He roused.

"How you felling this morning" I smiled as I teased his dick. He stretched and kissed me. I stopped and got up heading to the shower. Paul followed. He washed my back. He rubbed my breasts but I made him stop. They where tender. He was aroused the whole time.

"Should I put my cock back on?" I asked. He looked worried he wanted it his body told me he did. But he was afraid to ask for it. I got out of the shower, I let him finish up as I put my cock back on again. I stood wearing just panties and the strapon when he got out of the shower. I didn't say a word I just pushed him over the sink. My lubed toy slid in easy. His ass was so well trained. We needed a bigger one. I fucked him hard and fast as he shivered as water dripped off of him. I was relentless. I gave him everything I had my thighs and abs burned before I stopped. I had not even noticed he had already cum in the sink and was just letting me abuse his ass.

A few days later my period over I came home from work and dragged Paul to the bedroom. I was naked in seconds and laid on the bed I was so horny. I pushed his head between my legs. He slowly teased me he was driving me crazy. But he knew exactly how to ,ale me cum with his talented tounge. I bucked and jerked as he made me cum. Multiple orgasms spammed thru me. He held me down in order to keep pleasing me. He finally stooped I tried to catch my breath as he climbed on top of me.

"What are you doing?" I teased. As he tried to put his dick inside me.

"What?" He asked confused.

"I was thinking that there should only be one cock in this relationship" I told him biting his nipple playfully. "And since you like mine way more then I like yours" I teased. I reached down between us and stroked his little dick with two and my fingers and my thumb. He moaned.

"Lay on your back" I told him he rolled off of me his hands at his sides. I stroked him softly and slowly.

"Which do you like more eating my pussy or sucking my cock?" I giggled.

"Your pussy baby" he said breathing heavy.

"But my pussy grosses you out a whole week every month" I reminded him. I rubbed his hard nipples.

"I would love to see you suck a real cock baby" I told him. He just moaned and tried to push against my hand to get more stimulation.

"If I let you cum in my pussy would you lick me clean?" I asked. Again he just tried to fuck my hand. I stopped and spread his legs and teased his hole.

"This is what you really want isn't it?" I teased he moaned even louder. I stopped only long enough to grab a bag fm under the bed. I applied lube to the toy in the bag. Paul just stared at the ceiling i held the new toy to his ass. He loomed up at me with surprise. I didn't wait for him to say anything I pushed it into him. He grunted, started to whin but then moaned as the toy hit his prostate.

The new cock was twice as thick as the previous one I could just touch my fingers as I wrapped them around it and it was 8 incertable. Paul lifted his ass off the bed as I worked the toy in further and further

"FUCK ME!" he screamed. As he came his dick soft. But cum poured out of it, not shoot just dribbled. I had never seen him cum so much ever. I caught some with my free hand and bought it to his open gasping mouth. I just poured about a tea spoon of his cum into his mouth. He tried to complain but I worked the toy and he just gasped and moaned more. I scooped up more of his cum and stuck my fingers in his mouth. He started to suck on them.

"You are such a cock whore" I told him. His penis now totally deflatedand drained just sank almost completelyinto him. His balls tight up against him as well. I removed the new toy from his slutty ass.

"I got you something else. I thought it would be fun to try. But they say you should shave first" I told him pulling out a clean plastic chastity cage. I fiddled with it but you could just pull it right off of him. I was disappointed but when I got up to get dressed I picked uo my dirty panties. Paul was still lying on the bed. I started to put them on him.

"Since I have shown I have the big cock in the relationship maybe you should start wearing thr panties" I told him he didn't resist even lifted his butt so I could slid them in place. They where white brief style panties with little butterflies on them and a wide lace border. He looked so adorable as he made only the slightest bulge in them. I left him to change the sheets and clean the dildo. As I went to start dinner. Paul was wearing basketball shorts when he emerged about 20 minutes later. He also was walking a bit stiff.

"You didn't change did you?" I asked pulling his basketball shorts to see him still in my panties. I started fucking Paul at least twice a week with our new toy. I had put it in my harness and lived to peg his ass with my strapon. But I also made him suck my big toy as well. He learned quickly how to take 6 inches of it down his throat. The last two inches he struggled with until I just rammed them down his throat. I would then have Paul go down on me. Even coating my cunt with his cum first. It had been weeks since he had been inside of me.

"I think you should shave your pussy for me. Like I shave mine" I told him one night as I pushed his head down between my thighs. He just nodded. I was a bit surprised after he had finished pleasing me he got up and filled the tub. I went to see what he was up to only to find him trying to shave his ass. I laughed a little then took the razor and helped him. But I didn't stop at his ass. I trimmed. Then shaved off all his pubic hair. I did that silly strip up to his belly as well. And down to his knees.

"Go put on a pair of my panties" I told him. He had only worn them that one time. But now he seemed much more submissive to whatever I wanted. He did exactly as I asked. Showing me the lilac panties he had picked. Simple cotton briefs but he looked so cute in them. In the morning he went to change.

"You should wear a pair of the bikini style less likely any one will see them peaking out of your jeans" I told him. He looked stunned. Then put his boxer briefs away and picked out a yellow bikini style panties from my drawer. I was actually surprised he put them on. Then finished getting dressed. Before he rushed off to work. I had some time and pulled out my vibrator and masterbated thinking about Paul getting caught and sucking off his boss.

As I pleasured myself I realized I had not been fucked in a month. I shoved the toy deep, I needed to get fucked not by Paul and his little worm. No I like Paul needed a big cock to satisfy me. I came hard before I went to shower. My head in the clouds the rest of the day as I imagined everyone I saw taking me. Fucking me. Not just the men either but the ladies as well. I wanted to finger myself as I thought about my assistant bending me over my desk and fucking me with a huge toy as she called me dirty names.

I wanted to be someone's whore!

"I want you to find a cage that will stay on your clitty. Since we aren't going to use it anymore" I texted Paul. He didn't respond.

I spent most of the afternoon reading about cuckolding your husband. I wondered if Paul would let me fuck a big black man. I rushed home and was making Paul's favorite recipe for dinner.

"Smells great" he told me kissing me. He then showed me his phone. He had picked out and purchased a tiny stainless steel cage. It was less then an inch long.

"Paul, do you want a man to fuxk you?" I asked completely serious. He looked nervous. I knew it was a no, but he wasn't sure.

"How would you feel if I found another man a well hung man to fuck me?" I asked. He again looked worried.

"I have been feeling" I started " no, its more I need someone to dominate me. Like i dominate you, " I told him. I saw him getting hard in his pants I undid his belt and reached down rubbing his penis thru the panties. I then stopped pulled his pants down to his knees and dropped taking him in my mouth he didn't last a minute before he filled my mouth with his seed. I stood and kissed him feeding him every drop.

"I am going to Cuckold you, find a real cock to service me. You can eat their cum from my used stretch cunt" I told him. He just lowered his eyes. "That is the last time you cum like a man" I told him. I put a rush on the cage.

That night I had Paul take pics of me to post on tinder and some other sites. As is et up dating profiles. Some I said I was single others I openly asked for them to Cuckold my husband.

I got a message from a man with in an hour asking questions . I was honest explaining what I was looking for. He sent me first a pic of his face then of him dressed and after an hour of going back and forth we exchanged pics of us each naked. Paul was so turned on he crawled between my legs and started to eat my pussy. As I texted another man. I showed Paul the pic of his cock it was thick. And he claimed 7 inches. He lived nearly 50 miles away though. We text for a few days. Before he told me he wanted to drive out and meet me this weekend. We made plans agreed Paul shouldn't watch at least not the first time. So I made arrangements for Paul to have a guys night out while I entertained my guest.

Frank arrived just after Paul left. He wasted no time. I was naked on my knees in two minutes of his arrival. He was taller and heavier then Paul at 6' 210. His cock was indeed thick I barely could get my lips around it. But so wanted to. He bent me over and drove his cock deep inside me, as he slowly fucked me his finger teased my ass. I didn't say anything so he got more bold. And soon as his finger inside my ass. I handed him lube. I now had it all over the bedroom. Since I fucked Paul so much. He continued to fuck me as he worked his fingers in and out of my ass. Adding another then another.

I was soon cumming all over his big thick cock. But he wasn't done. He filled me onto the bed and with my one leg on his shoulder drove his cock into me hard. I came a second time before he pumped his load deep into me. I laid there spent as he got a drink. He came back and offered me his soft cock. I leaned forward and took it in my mouth he quickly grew hard again. I was in awe, he was a fucking machine. He applied lube to my ass. He was going to fuck my little ass with that thick monster. I screamed into my pillow as he pushed the head in. He then waited letting me become adjusted to it. He went slow and gently as he worked his cock more and more into my ass. But soon I was moaning and begging for more. Till he filled my ass with his cum as well. When Paul returned I was naked cum leaking from both my ass and pussy. As I laid in bed. frank long gone. I made Paul lick this man's seed out of me. He even ran his tounge across my asshole.

I then locked him in his new cage and had him put on the tiniest lace pink thong. I took a long bath as Paul changed the sheets.

Was hooked but so was Paul. I found myself at least once a week meeting a man just for uncomfortable sex. Some of them learned I was as submissive as Paul probably and would use me however they wished. Even sharing me with a friend. Or spanking me, tying me up, blindfolded me, I was game for anything. Even when one guy shared me with his wife. I didn't return home til, the next afternoon. Paul loved to hear about what I had done, but didn't want to watch instead stayed home and waited for my return. Hoping I would peg him.

Till one night I bought two men home. I told Paul they where for him. At first he was scared but they took him. I watched as he sucked them both. One fucked him as the other shoved his cock down Paul throat.

After that Paul agreed to anything. And was soon completely free of any body hair, wore only the sexiest of panties 24/7. And slept in satin nighties. On vacation he would even wear a skimpy bikini to the beach if I told him too. It was hard to keep everything a complete secret and soon a few friends found out. Kelly and I had sex while Paul was allowed to watch. And both of us watched as Paul relived his youth by sucking his friend Greg's cock as Kelly and I watched. Then Greg Kelly and I had a threesome while Paul wore a dress a did the dishes. It's been 5 years since I locked Paul in permanent chastity. And as my anniversary gift to him I am going to run a train on his ass. I hope he loves it as much as I would.

[igglemouse]

The State Of The Iggleverse 2025

The Iggleverse, a term I've used since starting my tumblr to simply explain my style of play. That is, everything I post is connected, from one sim to the next. The first iggleverse, that dated back to my first sim, Lourdes, went on for a few years and everything was connected.

I soft relaunched that iggleverse, which was easily done since, little did the reader know (since I never got that far) Telah had become the holder of the Watcher's Key (something I referenced then every now and then) and since I was literally the Watcher (well who else could it be!?) I used that little device to restart it even again. Dalton, Telah's son, who was the main heir in one of my darkest runs, had battled with Lovecraftian monsters and ancient deities and it had destroyed his universe...which was sort of explained by the introduction of his daughter who said she had escaped a destroyed universe...

Long story short, I still had connections to the first Iggleverse in even this latest one. For example, Gracelyn's mother was explained to be from another universe and her father was a traveller of different planes of existence...and her mother was a blood witch. Did this get mentioned? It might be mentioned in a post I have queued...but the term blood witch brings it all back to Dalton's story and a certain evil spellcaster that had summoned an ancient deity into his world...

All this to say. The iggleverse is kind of complex. I like that. But I try to tell a story with the intention of someone diving in at any moment and sort of getting right into it. It's why I always tell new readers, oh just jump in. To me, a story can be as complex as rocket science as long as the reader is focused on one thing at a time and is not overwhelmed. The past is a reference and the future is unknown.

After all, the beginning of any story is where you decide it is, but the ending, well, that's a lot more final.

The truth is, Frida, Zer, Gracelyn, and Teresa (who was cursed being 4th because of my fascination with odd numbers) have run their short course.

I hate doing this again but I only do it because it must be done. I realize that the way I was producing them and the past few set of heirs was completely wrong.

It took too long to even play one day of their gameplay because of how much I over thought things, over planned things, and then what made it worse is that I was still playing the game and so every time a sim did something different it meant rewriting the present and changing the future. For anyone that's tried to write a novel you know how much changing one thing can just cause a domino effect of you having to rewrite the whole thing...and this is what was constantly happening.

Example...I had a heir named Kyoko. Some of you may remember her, she was in Sulani and she had once met a sim that was supposed to be her romantic interest, don't remember his name, but they go out on a date and it was going well until one argument flipped her relationship with the guy. I was like well that sucks, I had like so much planned for this couple! But, I do not force my sims relationships, that would be boring! In the end, she end up becoming a mermaid and bleh...

Long story short, this is what was going on with my latest heirs and has been going on since maybe...I forget the last time I completed an actual heir maybe like 2021 or something?!?!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

What Now?

Well, I do this for the love of the game! So, I still enjoy doing sim legacies and you will meet THREE new heirs very very very soon. Today, actually!

The Iggleverse must be made new and whole and beautiful and I hope these three heirs are the ones to bring it home and actually have a 2nd generations.

But who is to say you won't just do this again a few months from now?

Well, no one is to say, not even I know that! But, one of the big issues I had with the past one is how slow things were going. I was playing Frida for most of 2024 and she just now had a child! Like I mentioned, the production of my recent legacy attempts has been so slow. A whole episode was a lot of hours of work and then it'd just be like 3-5 days.

Back then I would have had multiple generations in a year like 2 or 3 and daily posting was easily done because I was usually sitting on like 70+ posts. I want to get back to that and the best part, I think I know how!

How?

I must put the legacy ahead of the story, for the longest I was putting story before legacy. It took some enjoyment out of the game because what was happening is I was planning out days for my sims for whatever the story I had planned for them.

Okay, but why not just do all the above and bring back the heirs I've read?

Because its just not how I work! I also have advanced the stories further than read and I don't like them. I feel like because I tried to do this mix of storytelling and plotting while doing gameplay it made me write my sims into arcs I didn't like. Kyoko's Mermaid...

Well, okay, but when will the new legacy start?

I don't have a date, could be tomorrow, could be a week from now, it just depends on when I feel like I am ready. It literally could be tomorrow though because the christmas week, the week I planned on posting Frida, Teresa, Zer, and Gracelyn, because I had time, I spent making new heirs and writing them and I have content ready to post! More than one might expect but that is because I've gone back to my old style of production. Which was legacy and gameplay first and story to tie it all together.

No big scrivener file with all the plots I have going (and there were A LOT), nothing but what the next sim day might bring!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

TOO LONG DID NOT READ!

Well! Just know that I am still around and starting fresh (again), for those that were attached to the previous four heirs, well, I am sorry and like usual, if anyone wants spoilers I'll post them! I think I'll just post pictures and explanations of what I had planned actually!

Because I want this iggleverse to be completely fresh, no connections at all to any previous iggleverse!

So. New year, new me, but also still the old me! I hope that is good enough!

[sirianasims]

Chapter 44.2

Summer is coming to an end, and the warm glow of the early evening bathes everything in gold, casting long shadows and making everything seem almost dreamlike. The sturdy planks of the bridge creak slightly as we cross, the sound blending with the gentle thuds of hooves against wood and the faint rush of the river below. In the distance, the constant song of the waterfalls form a faint, rumbling backdrop.

The sound of Serafina’s hooves changes as we leave the bridge and turn onto the cobbled stone road that leads to the estate. On evenings like this, I love Tartosa so much it makes my heart ache, and I wonder why I ever leave. The air smells sweeter here than anywhere else, a hint of saltwater mingling with the ever-present lavender and the more subtle, grassy notes of the earth itself.

I slow Serafina down as we reach the large mosaic that marks the crossroads. The colour has faded slightly with time, but the motif is as clear as ever, two intertwined wedding bands surrounded by the waves of the Tartosan sea. My great-grandparents commissioned it for an anniversary years before I was even born, a tribute to their love story carved into the very ground.

Serafina tosses her head impatiently, the reins tugging on my hands and pulling me out of my reverie. I feel her muscles tense up under the saddle, and she paws at the ground with her foreleg, restless.

“Sorry, girl,” I murmur. “We’ll go back to your baby now.”

I dismount as soon as we reach the paddock, stroke her neck and thank her for the ride. The light sheen of sweat on her coat is warm against my palm, but her focus is not on me anymore. Her tail swishes in agitation as a delicate, high-pitched nicker can be heard from the stables and I quickly open the gate and lead her through.

My uncle Gio waits for us in the doorway, brushing bits of hay off his gloves. Behind him, Serafina’s foal whinnies excitedly at the sight of its mother.

“There you are. How did it go?” He takes the reins from my outstretched hand and lets the impatient mare into her stall.

“She did great, she’s definitely getting her strength back. I let her gallop along the coast for a bit, you should have seen her. She was practically flying.”

“That’s my girl,” Gio mumbles softly, almost to himself. “Thanks for taking her out, she needed the exercise. As much as Sofia tries, she can’t ride all of them every day and school starts back up soon. How long are you staying this time?”

“I haven’t decided yet. Another week, maybe more. I need a break from everything, some time to figure out what to do next.”

“And a week or two is enough for that?”

“It’s a start. I’ll be fine, you know me, Gio.”

“Exactly, I know you. Well, tell your aunt I’ll be in soon, I’m almost done here.”

“You don’t want any help?”

He laughs, waving me off.

“You were always more useful in the kitchen, my boy.”

As soon as I open the heavy front doors of the main house, I’m met with the sound of laughter. Aunt Teresa is wiping tears of mirth from her eyes as they both turn to me.

“Hi mum, Teresa. What’s so funny?”

My mother lights up at the sight of me, and I hurry over to give her a hug before she can attempt to stand.

“Paolo, did you happen to see Giovanni out there? Is he coming in too?”

“Soon, zia, he’s just making sure the vineyard doesn’t run out of fertiliser.”

My mother laughs, giving my arm a feeble squeeze with her left hand. “I don’t think that’ll happen any time soon.”

“Well, we better not take any chances, mum. The entire Romeo fortune could be at stake, and I’m currently unemployed.”

Teresa shakes her head, smiling, then calls towards the stairs. “Sofia? Come down, please.”

Seconds later, my youngest cousin skips down the stairs.

Her older sisters, Laura and Anna, both moved out years ago, but Sofia was a late surprise addition, still just a baby when I first moved to Del Sol Valley. To Gio’s endless joy, Sofia is just as obsessed with the horses as he is.

“Sofia, you can do your piano lesson while I make dinner. Is that alright with you, Rose?”

My mother nods and carefully gets up and walks to her usual chair by the piano. Her steps are agonisingly slow but dignified, and I resist the urge to help her, instead distracting myself by picking a few white horse hairs off my shirt.

Teresa disappears into the kitchen, and I opt for simply taking the shirt off before following her.

A copper pot simmers on low heat on the old stove. Teresa’s kitchen was always my favourite room in this house, filled with delicious smells and tastes. Ever since I could walk, I kept ending up in the kitchens, both here and at the vineyard, and my grandmother and aunts never hesitated to put me to work.

There are herbs everywhere, clay pots of fresh basil and oregano. Recently picked thyme and sage, still with their purple flowers, hangs from the ceiling and fills the air with their fragrance.

Teresa points to a bunch of ripe tomatoes by the sink, drying next to the carrots and zucchini she picked earlier.

“You can start by slicing the tomatoes.”

I wash my hands and begin cutting. There’s a small bowl of large, juicy grapes from the vineyard on the table, and I pop one into my mouth. The taste brings back memories of long summers helping out with the harvest, of sun and dirt and the first time I was allowed to taste the family wine.

“How are things over in Del Sol? Your mother says you’re no longer doing voices?”

“Yeah, the show I was working on has ended. But one of my friends is trying to set me up with her agent. For movie roles, I mean.”

“You’re going back to movies? That sounds wonderful! You were so happy back when you did that.”

I know for a fact that Teresa hasn’t watched a single second of Llama Man’s adventures, animated or otherwise, but she was always supportive.

“Yeah, I’m still considering it, but…”

A wildly off-key chord sounds from the living room, followed by laughter as my mother explains something and Sofia starts over.

I glance at the crutches leaning against the wall and lower my voice slightly, although my mother is unlikely to hear me over Sofia murdering a Tartosan folk song.

“How is she doing? When I’m not here, I mean?”

“You always worry too much, tesoro. Your mother is fine.”

“I know, I just… I haven’t been home much lately.”

“You’ve been busy. It’s understandable, you have your own life over there.”

“But now that… There’s nothing that really keeps me over there right now. And both her leg and her hand seems worse lately. I was wondering if I should take a longer break, stay home with her for a while…”

Teresa sighs.

“Paolo, listen to me. It is not your job to replace your father. Your mother is happy. She has family, she has friends, she has so much joy in her life. You need to try and find some joy in your life too.”

navigation / previous / next

[sukisheadlights]

PROTECTIVE TENDANCIES!

tmrminho x wckd!oc

summary: she took care of him all these years in the maze. But will she be there for him when he needs her outside it?

story: maze runner masterlist

rory’s voice mail 🎧: Sooo I'm not that well versed in the lore (that is a sign for re-watch + re-read I know) either way I haven't made any mistakes as far as I'm aware of but incase I missed anything, let me know <3 love you, say it back!

SPOILERS AHEAD OBVIOUSLY

Sadira spins around in her chair as the dark blue light reflects off her glasses; before coming to an abrupt and screechy halt when she hears him yell through the computer screen. She quickly turns and looks over the multiple cctv screens around her in search of minho, until she finds him. Eventually. She messes around with some buttons around her until the 'griever' as the gladers called it, slows down. She sighs and leans against the chair having succesfully saved him the third time this week.

Sadira could confidentaly say that she was the youngest at w.c.k.d. She was 16. She could tell you alot of things, except for what she does in the abnormally technologically advanced building all day. There isn't exactly a job description for saving the asses of the friends you've made through a screen who don't know you even exist. Infact, that probably hinders the consistent experiements being thrown at these children who are her age, heck— some of them are even younger.

Sadira knows that the only reason she isn't in that maze is because she's the daughter of Dr. Ava Paige. I guess even being an adopted daughter has it's own advantages.

That's why she's so careful when she saves the lives of the gladers, if ava finds out both her and the reckless gladers she watched over are doomed. Boy this would be tough to explain if she met them in person, how would she even act around them? Thankfully she doesn't have to worry about that yet. Right?

When Ava turned her away and banished her from coming to w.c.k.d for 'safety reasons', Sadira was MORE than curious on what her 'mother' was hiding. So naturally, when she called her back urgently she ran through the multiple maze like hallways of the building in search of Ava like a mad woman. Maybe in her own way, w.c.k.d was her maze and cage too. just in a non-life threatening sense. for now.

She walks towards the prison cell looking holding room as she stands next to the woman she calls her mother not looking through the window just yet; she should have, maybe she could have ran instead of walking straight to her demise.

Instead she stared gaping mouth at the other girl who happened to step into her peripheral vision. "You remember teresa, yes?" Ava announced loudly, her words ringing colder than the white lights above their head. Sadira could only nod in response; who the hell was inside that room?

"Unfortunately my love, it would be unwise to get into details here. But teresa recently found her way back to w.c.k.d, back to us. And she has been working with us in your absence. It is with a full heart that I can tell you that you will be learning hands on how to talk to a test subject today. Do not worry child, rest assured, you will be safe." She spoke again as teresa walked away, her tone laced with something unfamiliar which, looking back— could have only been something poisonous. "Go on." she nudged again as Sadira walked into the plain white chamber which, looked even sadder from the inside.

She turned around as the door closed behind her and this, mystery inmate. Her heart dropped to her feet. It was him. He was here. Nonetheless, she approached slowly and sat down infront of him. He looked...Terrible.

"Hello," She said blandly, but internally she was nervous as ever. But if she showed it, Ava wouldn't let her talk to him again. How would she help him out then? She should probably slow down but the difference in his character was unsettling.

He didn't say anything in response and only watched her intently, or dazed. She remembered how his eyes looked in the maze, even if they were facing near death every second of the day. And then she noticed how dead they looked this very moment, when this was the one time in life he was truly protected. She looked towards the one-way mirror hoping she was looking directly at Ava. That's when he scoffed. "They can't save you in here."

She looked back at him, eyebrows raised and all. "What would I need saving from, Minho? You won't hurt me." She said confidentally, but not in the sense that she knew he wouldn't. Well, still in that sense but she only showed Ava what was on the surface. Confidence in the sense that she was hiding her fear.

Minho ofcourse, knows that even if he wanted to kill her this very second he would be unable to, considering the shitload of drugs he was put on. She's pretty, it's a shame she's on the wrong side of all of this, he thought.

"Don't wanna talk? that's alright. We'll get you to one of these days Minho. Time is on our side." the words spilled out of sadira's mouth leaving a bitter after-taste. she didn't like talking to him like this, but if she even let Ava catch on to the idea that sadira had...once grown fond of the boy infront of her? she would have lost her chance. for what exactly? she's not entirely sure herself.

silence engulfed the small white room as she watched the nervous bob of his adam's apple before promptly getting up and leaving.

That night, without much shock. She was kidnapped. "Oh, it's just you lot." she said calmly, looking at the faces of thomas, frypan, newt, and gally. All the idiots she saved multiple times. Well, except for frypan— he was always a sweetheart.

The point is, she wasn't intimidated. Instead she laughed when they tried to threaten her. Then, she asked them to untie her and much to everyone's surprise, they obliged.

Not wanting to leave them high and dry Sadira explained everything to them. How she saved their lives, How she knew them, How she saw teresa, And about how she spoke to Minho. She then warned them that as a 16 year old saving them to those small extents was all she could have done and that it would be unwise to redirect their anger from w.c.k.d to her simply because she knew.

She also agreed to get minho out, but that was a given. The only condition she set down was freedom from Dr. Ava Paige. Who she had the displeasure of calling her mother. They sat on the floor that night and all the gladers and Sadira in unison decided the best plan to get minho out of that hellhole. And they settled.

On Gameday, Sadira offered to walk with Janson and pointed out how something looked suspicious with teresa and her guards. Inevitablly, Janson approached the disguised gladers and it was there that they grabbed her as she sneakily snatched janson's all building access card. She was with them under the ruse of a hostage, just so that Ava doesn't get suspicious and look too closely.

When they found out Minho was moved, it was only because of Sadira and another test subject that they could pinpoint Minho's exact location.

However, she should have probably thought to warn him in some way that she was on their side. Maybe then Minho wouldn't have mistakened her for the enemy and slammed her into the wall once they did find him. ouch.

The escape after that was mostly smooth sailing, there were no losses and only minor setbacks. But those don't matter enough to be mentioned here. [Authors Note: I didn't have it in me to kill off newt so don't blame me] Ofcourse, Sadira almost dying while protecting minho doesn't fall under minor setbacks but she would have done that for any glader.

When she woke up in the 'refugee' a few days later, minho was the first person she spoke to. The conversation flowed much more smoothly when her formerly alive mother (that was fun to find out) wasn't watching over them, she joked. And he laughed. And she thought it was the most beautiful thing in the world. So she made him do it again, and again, and again. Until she finally realised she couldn't get enough of it.

They moved fast. From touches, to kisses, to something more. But it was never in the sense that it was too much to handle, Instead it was in the sense that they had waited too long for each other and that they were desperate for this. Needy, even. Which was insane considering he barely knew her. Oh well.

First Kisses and First loves are obviously difficult post-apocalypse but hey, atleast it makes one hell of a story.

[callsign-dexter]

A Father's Comfort

Request: hey lovie 

I just went through a pretty nasty break up (not because of him and I) and I tried to explain everything to my friends and some family what happened by they all thought I had done something wrong. The only person who had my back was my dad, he was the only one who would listen and told me it wasn’t my fault. 

anyways I was wondering if you could write a maverick x daughter reader where she broke up with her boyfriend and tried to get some reassurance from friends and family (maybe just some of Pete’s old friends) but they just thought she was the mess up (maybe they were just extremely passive aggressive) so she just tried to laugh off the jokes. Maybe eventually Pete finds out through the chain that she broke up with the boy so he tried to go confront/comfort her and she tried to make jokes and in the middle of “laughing” she started crying. Then maverick just jumps into loving father mode and comforts her.

maybe the reader is like 16-17

thank you and 100% your choice

Pairings: Maverick x Daughter!Reader

Warnings: cheating, angst, fluff, asshole boyfriends, asshole Chipper, asshole Sundown, asshole Merlin

A/N: Hopefully you caught the Grease reference. I'm so sorry you had a rough break up and sorry I got this out late. If you need to talk my messages and asks are always open.

You didn’t know what happened. You thought your relationship with Justin was going great. You loved him and he loved you or so you thought. It was after school when it happened you were getting ready to leave the parking lot. You had just arrived at your Toyota Tacoma when Justin strolled up to you. You smiled when you saw him and greeted him with a kiss but he pulled away and turned his head so that you kissed his cheek this confused you. “Everything ok?” You had asked him.

“I think we should break up.” He said and your heart broke.

“What why?” You asked

“I don’t love you and never did. Besides I’m going out with Teresa.” He said and your face drained.

“How long has that been going on?” You asked now furious but still heart broken.

“A month after we got together.” He said and our eyes began to sting with tears. “We can still be friends.” He said and you didn’t say anything. He started to walk away but still close enough to you when you shouted at him.

“Lose my number and never talk to me again.” You said and he turned around.

“I’ve already lost it.” He said with a proud smirk on his face while yours was a frown.

“All I want to know is why.” You asked

“You’re too clingy. You never wanted to go further. At least Teresa is willing.” He said and then walked off and now you were truly alone. You got into your truck and drove home somehow not crashing. When you pulled into the driveway you recognized most of the cars as being Top Gun’s Class of ’86.

You parked in your original spot and killed the engine and headed inside of the house. It was loud and from the looks of it some of them had been drinking. You knew they were coming over for a cookout that your dad had planned and you were looking forward to it too until now. You knew you looked awful and you just wanted to escape upstairs and into your room. The plan was going smoothly until Hollywood saw you and smiled and went over and hugged you.

“Mini Mav! How are you?” He asked and you could tell that he had been drinking some but you were respectful and greeted him back because that is what your father taught you.

“I’m fine.” You said with a smile that didn’t quite reach your ear and your eyes weren’t as bright but he couldn’t tell that but two people could, Ice and Slider. They weren’t drinking as much because they tended not to and the thought of hangovers now killed them, when they were younger, they were fine with it but not now plus someone had to be a little bit sober while Maverick and Goose were gone to pick some stuff up and to deal with the rowdy ’86 bunch.

“You seem down. What’s up?” He asked pulling you into him uncomfortably and you nervously laughed and looked at Ice and Slider for help.

“My boyfriend and I broke up.” You said and got out of his hold by now most of everyone was paying attention to you.

“What happened?” Chipper asked as he took a drink of his beer.

“He said I was too clingy. He also cheated on me after a month of dating.” You said with your head hanging down.

“Well, were you clingy? Is that why he started cheating on you.?” He asked and you looked up at him with a shocked expression and everyone laughed but Ice and Slider.

“No, I texted him asking him to hang out but that is what boyfriends and girlfriends are supposed to do. I also just wanted to know how his day was each day and text him good morning and good night. I also just wanted to spend more time with him and make plans and he never answered and I just send him ideas. He also wanted to go further and I didn’t want to.” You said in an exasperated voice. Chipper scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but they don’t have to hang out with each other 24/7.” He said and you could feel tears stinging your eyes.

“Chipper.” Ice said sternly not liking the look on your face and he looked at him.

“What? If she’s being clingy and doesn't want to go further, I know how teenage boys are, then I see why he was cheating on her.” He said to Ice and then turned back to you “Just a friendly reminder, try not to be so clingy next time and just go further.” He said and a tear slipped out and down your already tear-stained cheeks. Sundown scoffed.

“You’re being too sensitive about it. Just let it go. I don’t mean to be rude but it sounds like it is your fault that he cheated on you.” Sundown said and more tears fell down.

“Cheating on you was a surprisingly good decision on his part. If you were texting him all the time and wanting to hang out all the time, my girlfriend doesn’t even text me that much and I’m perfectly fine with that.” Merlin said and took a drink of his drink.

“That’s enough guys. You’re upsetting her.” Slider said and walked over to you and brought you into a hug.

“No, it’s ok. I’m just going to go up to my room. Oh, where is dad and Goose?” You asked, looking at him sniffling.

“They went to the store to grab some things. They’ll be back in like 10 minutes. I’ll let your dad know that you’re upstairs.” He said and hugged you which you returned and hugged him back and then when you released each other you started up the stairs to your room where you shut your door and fell face first into your pillow and began to cry.

Just like Slider said Maverick and Goose arrived back home and everyone had gone back to normal but Ice and Slider looked annoyed. Maverick and Goose put the bags down and then walked over to them. “What’s wrong?” Maverick asked, noticing that they hadn’t even touched the rest of their drinks.

“Where’s Y/N/N?” Goose asked, also looking at the two.

“She’s upstairs and you need to go and check on her.” Ice said and before Maverick could ask why Slider spoke up.

“She broke up with Justin.” Out of all the ’86 class Ice, Slider, and Goose were closest to the Mitchell girl “Everyone was passive aggressive to her. She took off upstairs. She’s really upset about it.” Slider said and Maverick nodded, pissed that the others would be so hateful to his daughter. They know better even if they have been drinking. Goose was pissed too, that was his goddaughter for crying out loud. He turned to Maverick.

“Go check on her. We’ll deal with the others.” Goose said and Maverick nodded and headed upstairs. He came to his daughter’s door and knocked.

“Hey, Sweetheart. Is it ok if I come in?” Maverick asked and waited for a minute.

“Yea.” You said in a quiet voice and he walked in to see you at your desk doing homework but could see your tear-stained cheeks and his heart broke. He went over and sat on your bed. You spun your desk chair and looked at him.

“Ice and Slider told me what happened.” He said

“They’re right. It’s my fault.” You began

“No- “He started but you cut him off with a laugh.

“I mean I probably texted him too much and that is why he cheated on me.” You said with a chuckle but could feel tears welling up.

“Honey- “Maverick said as his heart was breaking.

“I also didn’t want to go any further when we were making out and he would get annoyed. So why not cheat on me with someone that is willing to do something like that right?” You asked even though it didn’t require an answer. “I’m the stupid one and the one to blame.” You said slowly losing it and Maverick just sat there not saying anything and waiting for you to finish “Sundown is right I’m just being too sensitive and so is Merlin cheating on me was the right thing to do. I’m just a screw up and will always be a screw up.” You were looking anywhere but him. You were laughing until you weren’t and then you began to sob with your head in your heads and Maverick felt tears of his own.

Maverick pulled your chair over to him and pulled you into a hug and you leaned into him and wrapped your arms around him and buried your head into his shoulder. “You’re not a screw up. You’re a wonderful person and anybody would be lucky to have you, I know I am.” He said and tightened his hold on you. “You will always be my girl no matter what.” He said “You’re young and still have time to figure out what love is. Who knows the right one may be living in the house just across the street.” He said, hinting at Bradley but you were too upset to figure it out. 

“Thank you, Dad. I love you too.” You said he brought you so he was looking at you at arm’s length.

“Anything for my best girl.” He said and brought his hands to your face and wiped the still falling tears with his thumbs. They say the only man a girl can depend on is her daddy and you found out that was true that day. You were glad to have him in your life.

Tag list:

@kmc1989

@els-marvelvsp

@atarmychick007

@nyx2021

@grandstrangerphantom

@callsign-revenge

[nivalingreenhow]

Here is my unnecessarily long deep dive into the Claymore timeline, which is just a way to try and figure out how old they all are.

first, is the tl;dr bullet points (more explanation under the cut)

Male era lasts for maybe a few years, but maybe less, as Riful is a warrior before Isley, Dauf, or Rigaldo awaken.

There is an undetermined amount of time before Teresa’s era, but it is likely a long time, given how many Number ones happened during that time (four of them during this time were stronger than the Abyssal ones, implying the existence of many others who were not as powerful)

Cassandra and Roxanne happened before Luciela, but we can’t know how long before

Luciela and Hysteria were likely back to back since Teresa was a trainee when Luciela awakened and a new warrior when Hysteria goes out.

Rosemary is only Number 1 for a short time, quicky overtaken by Teresa.

Teresa is Number 1 for a long time, maybe even a decade. She is well known among other warriors, even after her time. She is very familiar with Irene, suggesting they were trainees together. Both seem ‘older’ than other warriors in terms of maturity and introspection

The time between Teresa’s death and the start of the manga is about 5-6 years, based on Clare’s physical appearance.

This means Irene is a milf by the end of the manga

The era a male claymore probably didn’t last very long, given their limitations with awakening too soon. We see that Riful comes along before Isley, Rigaldo, and Dauf have awakened. There is not necessarily anything to actually support this, but I feel like she awakened rather quickly, too. She just seems to be the type to not ever hold back.

After this, we have a handful of number ones that have somewhat of a history in canon, however, we are not given their exact order unless we go in the order they’re introduced by the Organization. We have the names Licht, Chloe, Sistina, and Lutecia. We know there are more Number ones than this, as these are mentioned as specifically being more powerful than the three Abyssal Ones. We can assume these four came before the next set, which we do have some sort of timeline we can follow.

We know Cassandra comes before Roxanne, and we know they both come before Hysteria because Hysteria and Teresa overlap. We can also assume that Luciela came before Hysteria since Luciela awakened when Teresa was still a trainee, but Hysteria was killed when Teresa was a full warrior. What we can infer from this is that Hysteria was No. 1 for several years. Teresa appears to be about 11 or so when she encounters Rafaela after Luciela awakens, though we do not know how long this is after Luciela awakened. Teresa is a fully fledged warrior once she encounters Hysteria, implying several years have passed. Time in the manga is…blurred, but it is mentioned (if not necessarily shown) that training takes years and years before warriors are actually let out on their own.

I also have the personal HC that Irene was a trainee at the same time as Teresa, but did not immediately get a single digit rank. I like to think she actually had difficulty with control at first, which led to her signature technique. She over compensated, and as such, was able to keep the tightest control over her yoki. It’s made very clear that Teresa does NOT have relationships with other warriors, that she does not socialize with them or get to know them. However, she is very familiar with Irene, suggesting they have some sort of history, however you want to read it. Irene also knows so much about her which could be because of two reasons. One: Irene is obsessed with/in love with Teresa or two: Irene makes it a point to know everything she possibly can about her opponents and her teammates so she can assess their strengths and weaknesses and formulate the best plan possible. I personally think it’s a combination of both. When she speaks with Clare, she has clearly thought a LOT about Teresa’s emotional wellbeing outside of just her tactical abilities. In turn, when Teresa awakens through Clare, she recognizes Irene’s arm immediately. Regardless of what their relationship was, I would argue that after Clare, Irene may have been the person who knew Teresa the best. If Priscilla had followed directions, Irene’s plan to kill Teresa would have worked. (Sorry, that became a tangent lol, but it is meant to explain my reasoning for thinking Irene and Teresa were in training together).

Rosemary is only number one for a hot second before Teresa surpasses her. This could have even been just a matter of weeks or months. We can assume she awakened and sent her black card to Teresa soon after.

Now, translations have Teresa listed as the 182nd Claymore of the 77th generation in the Organization, however, I’ve seen some argument that this translation is not entirely accurate and could just be a date or time stamp. It does seem unlikely that there have been 77 generations of Claymore. Despite this, I believe Teresa was Number 1 for a long time. Maybe a decade. It seems that at her time, the top warriors are rather stable, with Irene being well known in her position, and Noel and Sophia being very familiar with each other, as well. Sophia states it’s been a while since she’s seen Irene. They’re all shocked when Priscilla comes along and shakes up the ranking, implying that those ranks have stood for some time. Teresa gives off the vibe of someone who has been stuck or a while, who is going through the motions, who is very comfortable (in a bad way) in what she’s doing. Irene, as well. Both their techniques allow them to keep on when other warriors may have awakened. Teresa doesn’t use her yoki at all outside of fighting Rosemary and Priscilla. This means she is more than likely never going to reach her limit. Irene has become exceptional at controlling her yoki, arguably better than any other warrior. The two of them could have been warriors indefinitely. Teresa also remarks it’s been a while since she’s seen Irene. She doesn’t give an indication that she has any such recognition of the others.

We all know what happens next and we DON’T need to talk about it.

Anyway, the next Number One is likely Alicia. I doubt there was anyone else who would be promoted above them. With the loss of the top five warriors all at once, the Organization would have been forced to take drastic measures. As a Number 5, Elda would not have been suited for Number 1, but it seems she was likely promoted as Rafaela takes the Number 5 spot. At this time, Clare is also around 11 or 12, and as a warrior, she looks to be more in her late teens. The time between Teresa’s death and the start of the Manga is likely 5 or 6 years. Claymore don’t age, but it does seem like they continue to mature until they are adults, as both Teresa and Clare are shown as children even after going through the operation but are also shown as mature adults later.  

After this point, we have a much more definitive timeline, so there isn’t much need to go into it. I mainly wanted to do this exercise so I could think about how old Teresa and Irene are during the events of the Manga. I always headcanon that Teresa is around thirty, Irene a little bit younger perhaps, when Priscilla awakens. This would make Irene around 35 more than likely when she encounters Clare again and over forty by the end of the manga. She and Teresa just exude more maturity than a lot of the other warriors, suggesting they are older than the typical late teens/early twenties of most of the other warriors. Others who reach a more mature age would be Rafaela (obviously), who is likely forty or so when she merges with her sister. Galatea probably is around 30 as Sister Latea. She and Miria come off as older than the other Ghosts. I’d say Miria is a similar age. Clare would be around 23/24 after the time skip, with Helen and Deneve being a few years older, but still younger than Miria. Just going off rank and personality, I’d say Cynthia is around the same age as Deneve, while Yuma and Tabitha are closer to Clare’s age, though maybe a bit older. Alicia and Beth are also probably pretty old for warriors. If we assume they were full adults when Priscilla wakens, say 20, then they’d be over 30 after the time skip.

It is very heavily implied that most warriors do not last long, that especially lower ranks get cycled out very quickly as they either reach their limits or are killed in battle. The higher ranks are logically more likely to have greater control of their yoki and greater chances of surviving their assignments. These ranks are likely more stable, leading to single digit warriors being older and wiser. Reading through the manga, it does become clear that Norihiro Yagi plays fast and loose with the canon timeline, so I have tried to go through this in a logical way that makes sense with what we know in canon and what would be the most realistic timeline, ignoring plot holes or inconsistencies. It makes sense that training takes years. Being strong and fast does not mean you are skilled with a sword. Warriors are generally weaker than full yoma, but they have exceptional sword skills that give them the advantage. For context, in medieval times, it took over 7 years of training for someone to become a knight. In Japan, samurai trained for even longer. Yoma blood could have sped up this timeline, but if we combine this knowledge with Clare and Teresa’s physical differences from trainees to warriors, it looks to be at least 5 years, if not longer. Sometimes, there is this feeling in the manga that number one warriors turn over quickly, but logically, they must last for a while typically. I think Yagi got caught up in the story, which is easy to do when writing such a long story over so many years, and lost sight of what a logical progression of warriors would look like. So, I think from Teresa’s rise to number one to the end of the manga was roughly 20-25 years.

Anyway, this was a long unnecessary justification for me to draw Irene as a milf.

Please let me know if you have thoughts, if you agree with my assessment, if you disagree. More than anything, I love looking at this manga and discussing all the missing pieces, trying to make it all fit together.

[foundfam2754]

S17e5 live reactions!

Spoilers…obviously

- yeah Elias don’t murder anyone if you wanna be an informant

- lol he has a whole receiving parade

- oh my fucking god Elias is messing w our papa pasta :(

- oh I just realised it has been ages since he’s actually spoken to him not in his mind - you got this bud ❤️

- car sex is just not it man

- OH DEBBY RYAN LOOKALIKE AND DAMIAN I see

- the girl reminds me of cat adams - revenge murder and maybe the most brutal bc of so much hurt in the past - in fact this whole thing gives me dirty dozen vibes

- “you’ve been taking to to yourself” “I’ve been talking to myself for years” idk why that made me laugh hard

- AM I ONLY THE ONE WHO SEES THE SPENCER REID PLAQUE COMING UP A LOT??? Pls let mgg come back oh my god

- hehe garvez is standing together 🥰

- protective luke 🥹

- “no!” “Everyone’s a comedian” HAHAHA

-“hands-off asshole” yeah give me more protective lukey pleaseeeee; also gives vibes of ‘don’t touch my girls stuff asshole’ which I LOVE

- “what’s up with you two…cause there’s a vibe” OH MY FUCKING GOD PENELOPE EVEN SICARIUS SEES IT. OPEN YOUR EYES AND LET HIM LOVE YOU

- couples who bully sicarius about his hygiene together stay together 🥺 🤝

- I kinda love how they’re filming this - they’re profiling together in the bull pen and workshopping - Elias has a weird chemistry w them

- lol pen with the handkerchief

- DONT TOUCH HER

- this is too easy; I’m so suspicious: I feel like he’s gonna do the same with Bailey - say something code-wordy to hint to him

- also why does it feel like Elias is being too helpful? like I think maybe he’s so invested bc 1) he gets to mess with Dave by being part of his team 2) Damian is a loose end and has some evidence to tie him to sicarius offficially

- I TOLD U HE WAS GONNA CODE WORD IT. I KNEW THE TIPPY TAP MEANT SOMETHING

- I love smart strategic confident Em and she and Dave plotting to fuck Elias over together

- is he finally gonna shower??

- “dave” like they’re besties

- LOVE THIS SHOT

- EW THEY HAD VOIT SAY OUR PRECIOUS PHRASE - but okay no that was so impactful

- oh my god he’s fucking with them so hard oh my god

- JJ SAID FUCK!!

- OH MY GODDDDDDD they’re talking about jealous Luke they’re talking about Penelope and Tyler they’re SAYING IT OUTRIGHT I CANT TALK I CANT TYPE I AM SCREAMING I LITERALLY GOT OFF MY COUCH AND JUMPED ACROSS MY APT

- ew tynelope is so gross greencia is so much better

- Luke you didn’t say nooo?! we all know it drives you crazy agent alvez

- so chaotic Elias is so funny man; kudos to Zach Gilford

- PAPA PASTA PROTECTING HIS FAMILY. You mess with Pen, Rossi brings the heat

- isn’t “locking you in a shipping container” a confession?? why are they not more interested in that?

- oh my god Brian’s gaslighting her - falling into the conspiracy thing again - everyone’s vulnerable and only hearing what they want too

- haha lukey doing yoga

- oh my god how do they do anything without Penelope

- hey kiddos - voit is leaving?? Pls pay attention to him

- is Rossi gonna let him run??

- oh my god they’re profiling each other

- OH MY GOD DAMIAN. I KNEW ELIAS WAS GONNA CODE WORD IT.

- “Teresa is in trouble”!??

- TYLER I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU KEEP MORE SECRETS

- oh my god the sicarius smile

- aw tebecca!

- EM :(( be vulnerable babe we’re here for you

OH MY GOD THIS EP WAS SO GOOD