#wham city lights

[cipher-the-sidhe]

Woe! OCs without context be upon ye!

[chilling-seavey]

Love Thy Neighbour (gr63) - Part One

↳ A/N Still waiting for Apple to invent the iTimeMachine so I can go back to the 80s when Andrew Ridgeley was in his prime. Anyway, please enjoy house husband George slaying the 1980s suburbia. Comments, reblogs, and predictions are always welcome!!

↳ Inspired By: 'Everything She Wants' by Wham! and 'Heartbeat' by Wham!

↳ Summary: It’s the end of summer 1984 and you and your perfect little family moves into a quaint suburban neighbourhood to escape the hustle and bustle of the Manhattan lifestyle. Your next door neighbours are a picture-perfect family of their own - or so it seems from the outside. But, as you spend more time with the handsome husband, the cracks in your own 'perfect' marriage start to come to light.

↳ Pairings: George Russell x Neighbour!Fem!Reader (NO use of y/n)

↳ Word Count: 22.6k

↳ Warnings: 18+, smut, slow burn, cheating/adultery (i don't condone this but, boy, does it make for a juicy plot), use of explicit language, female masturbation, non-consenting voyeurism, oral (f receiving), fingering, dirty talk, choking, unprotected sex (and extramarital creampie)

September 1984

The house was straight out of the recent issue of Better Home magazine and even as you stepped out of the passenger seat of the station wagon, you were in awe of the New England architecture. Crisp white siding and red painted shutters over spotless picture windows; it was hard to believe it was all yours. It was nowhere near the small ancient apartment that you were used to in the city - although you certainly wore that place thin until the seams were bursting. It was about time you made the move out of Manhattan and into the nearby suburbs. The American Dream was in the palm of your hand. 

Your husband, Andrew, set his hand on the small of your back and dangled the set of shiny keys over your shoulder with his other, “Want to test the locks?”

You smiled back at him and grabbed them out of his hand before hurrying along the front path to the modest porch and welcoming front door. He followed behind you closely, glancing over his shoulder on the way in expectation of a follower of his own, but the young boy was already busy rushing across the freshly mowed lawn. 

“Richard,” your husband called for him as you turned the key in the lock, the faint remnants of his English accent ghosting through his words, “Come see inside!”

Unbothered, your five-year-old son didn’t even look up as he dropped to his knees beside the garden bed, “No thanks!”

You glanced across the sprawling green grass yourself, “Don’t you want to see your room?”

The little boy’s head perked up in your direction at your very convincing offer and his big brown eyes shone in the sunlight. He shot up from the ground, “Okay!” 

He took the four front stone steps with ease and rushed right past you into the house, making a beeline right for the straight run staircase just inside. You called a reminder after him to hold the handrail but he was already at the top by the time the final word left your mouth. 

Still on the front porch, you and your husband shared calm little smiles over your shared adoration for your little boy, and then he was gesturing you inside first. You stepped over the threshold onto the hardwood floors and you took your time soaking in the modern floral wallpaper that trimmed the foyer and led into the formal living room through the archway to the right. It looked so empty without furniture but it also held so much promise and possibility within the brand new walls. 

Through the living room you could loop into the dining room that overlooked the spacious backyard framed in lush trees and a wooden fence separating the property from the neighbours on either side. The backyard view was perfect from the kitchen sink, giving you a perfect spot to keep an eye on your son playing while you could do the dishes or prep dinner. You had fallen in love with this house the moment you saw it in the real estate section of the newspaper - a new build in a quaint suburb of Connecticut - but at first glance you had figured it would only be a dream. It was hard to believe that your husband and your finances were on board. With a growing little boy, it was time to move out of that tiny one-and-a-half bedroom apartment in Manhattan. Now, with three full bedrooms upstairs, the future was far more open. 

You hadn’t realized you were daydreaming at the empty kitchen sink before your husband gave your shoulders a squeeze, bringing you back to your content reality, “The moving truck should be here soon. Should we start unpacking the car?”

Leaning back into him, you agreed with a smile, “Alright.”

He wrapped his arms around your middle and pressed a kiss to your cheek before he was pulling away just as quickly and disappearing into the foyer and towards the front door.

Andrew always lived a lively life and somehow you managed to keep up. He always wanted to be out doing things such as date nights on the town rather than picking up after-hour client dinners just to socialize and bring in more money for his company - and, ultimately, himself and your family. It was so nice when you were younger and you were in love and willing to follow him to the ends of the earth but the reality of parenthood made you more tired than you used to be. Suddenly, nights out felt tedious and the airtime was always filled with business talk or discussions of Richard’s school. It all felt a bit like a chore. But maybe that just came with growing up. You were loved, you were secure, and you had a beautiful roof over your head. You swore you had nothing to complain about. 

The moving truck pulled into your driveway not long after your trusty station wagon had only been unpacked about halfway. It was going to be a long day but you tied your hair back and made sure your son was kept busy when you could and Andrew and the movers took over most of the heavy lifting, leaving you to rearrange boxes and direct them inside the house. It was always your responsibility to take care of your son so it wasn’t unusual for you to keep busy with finding him a snack from your cooler once that was brought in from the car. The kitchen table followed not long after from the moving truck and the two of you sat at the table together with Jell-O cups. 

Richard would be starting kindergarten in only a week and part of you was worried about what on earth you were going to busy yourself with once he was gone. Being a stay at home mom, your sole job was caring for him and since there were no other kids on your agenda as of yet, you were painfully preparing to be completely alone from 9-3 every week day. You tried not to worry about it as you watched your five-year-old eat his cherry Jell-O and you reached out a hand to brush through his frazzled dark brown hair, trying to pet it down into some sort of order. Even the gel that you had slicked through it that morning seemed to not be doing its job anymore but that seemed to be common with a lively little boy. You truly loved him with everything in you and those big brown eyes could just melt your heart with one look. He was his father’s son through and through. 

Being an only child, Richard got bored pretty easily on moving day so it wasn’t long before you sent him outside to the front yard to play while the truck was finished unloading and you and Andrew tended to the organization inside. With the windows open, the late summer air breezed through the freshly painted house and one of the first things you set up was your record player in the living room so you could have some music while you worked. 

Soon, Richard came rushing back inside and across the carpeted living room floor in his outdoor running shoes, earning a lightly scolding “Ritchie” out of you. 

“Mommy, there’s kids next door. Can I play with them?” he asked, ignoring your quiet scold of his name as he clutched onto the hem of your sky blue shorts pleadingly, batting those sweet long lashes up at you. 

You pet your hand over his soft hair, “Sure, baby. Stay close though, okay?” 

“Okay!” 

He was already halfway out the front door again before the single word reply was even completely out of his mouth. With a few trinkets in your hand that you had been taking out a box of arrange in the curio cabinet, you drifted over to the large picture window overlooking the front lawn. Two kids around Richard’s age were playing on the quiet tree-lined street on big wheel tricycles and your son ran over to them to introduce himself. You smiled fondly at the sociable nature of your son that was quite unlike your own traits, watching the children play for a few more moments as Richard was given a turn on the bike, before you were moving back to your boxes. 

As the afternoon wore on and you grew tired, you had just enough energy to make dinner - something simple and quick - and soon you were stepping out onto the front porch to call your son back in to eat. He said goodbye to his two new friends and then hurried over to you just as you noticed two people crossing over your lawn towards you. 

“Hey there!” the woman called politely. 

Richard stood in front of you nosily, watching them, and he wrapped an arm around your leg. Your next door neighbours approached you across your lawn, a man and woman maybe only a few years your senior, and the man held a white bakeware dish covered in tinfoil in his hands.

“Hi.” you greeted them with a smile. 

They were clearly a well kept pair as if they had been cut from a magazine themselves with the husband in tidy blue jeans and a tucked in button up and the wife with her blonde hair tied back in an impressive updo. She had on dress slacks and a blazer with posh shoulder pads, earning a lighthearted envious glance out of you at her style as you accepted her handshake and she spoke again, “I’m Jennifer and this is my husband, George. We just live next door and saw you moving in so we wanted to introduce ourselves.”

“How lovely.” you smiled, moving on to shake her husband’s hand, trying not to be intimidated by the electric blue eyes staring back at you as you introduced yourself and your son.

Your five-year-old peered up at them behind waves of dark hair that tumbled over his big brown eyes despite the way you swooped it out of his face yet again. 

“Are those your little ones?” you asked, gesturing over to the street where the two kids were still playing. 

Jennifer glanced over to the children before looking back at you, “Yeah. Those are ours. James and Nancy.” 

“It was really nice of them to let Ritchie play today.” you started. 

The adult conversation got boring quickly for the five-year-old so he slid out from under your maternal touch and slipped inside without a word or goodbye. 

“He’s an only child,” you explained, “so he sometimes gets a little lonely…especially in a new neighbourhood and all.”

“Oh, of course.” Jennifer tisked.

“Is he starting school this year?” George asked.

It was the first time you heard him speak apart from a brief greeting drowned out by his wife but it didn’t phase you. The hint of a British accent across his words didn't either, all too used to the same from your own husband. How likely that the suburbs of America brought two Brits as next-door neighbours. Comedically written in the stars, or something of the sort.

“Yeah, he’ll be starting kindergarten next week.” you exhaled, “Big steps.”

“So is James.” George said, “I’m sure they’ll be in the same class. Would be good for them to have a little friend before being thrown into a classroom.”

“Oh, that’d be great.” you sighed thankfully, setting a hand to your chest, “Even that alone brings so much ease to the conscience. I’ve been worried about how he’d transition to this whole new place.”

George smiled knowingly, “And especially when your first is going off to school for the first time.” 

“Definitely.” 

Footsteps across the foyer floor behind you pulled your attention away from your new neighbours to your husband stepping out onto the porch with you to see what was taking so long - undoubtedly you were tattled on by your five-year-old. You welcomed his arm around your waist as you introduced your new neighbours to him and him to them and they shared brief pleasantries. 

“We won’t keep you.” Jennifer took a step back, “I know it’s probably close to dinner time.”

George took one step up onto the stone stairs of your porch to offer out the bakeware, “We just wanted to bring you a little something to say welcome to the neighbourhood.”

“That’s so thoughtful. Thank you so much!” you took it from him.

“Such a nice change to have nice neighbours after the nightmare of living in Manhattan.” Andrew joked. 

“Oh, totally. We don’t mess with the city-dwellers.” George waved his hand casually, rising light laughter among your little group. He took a step back towards his wife who was already clearly trying to urge him back towards their house, but he reiterated honestly, “Anything you need, we’re right next door. Don’t be strangers.”

“Thanks a lot!” Andrew raised his hand up in a brief wave and you wished them a good night as they herded their two kids back towards their house and you were gently steered back inside by your husband. 

The apple crisp was placed on the kitchen counter and you served some for dessert to your little family. It wasn’t chocolate, candy, or ice cream so Richard wasn’t too impressed, but as adults, you and Andrew both swore it was the best dessert you had in a while - even surpassing your own. You made a mental note to find a way to thank the neighbours next time you saw them.

Having just moved in, your available time was few and far between throughout that weekend and into the beginning of the following week. Your plethora of boxes that needed unpacking as well as your young son who needed to be prepared and set for his first day of school kept you busy and it didn’t help that after the weekend, Andrew was back to work full time, needing to leave earlier to commute into the city and ultimately getting home later for that same reason. You were just appreciating the last few days you had with your son before he was going to be in school for the next two decades. The looming loneliness almost had you craving another baby but the time just never felt right. 

Wednesday was Richard’s first day of school and he was that perfect expected mix of nervous and excited. He was already eating his cereal at the kitchen table with his eyes glued to the TV in the adjacent family room when Andrew returned from his early morning run to get ready for work before the sun had even passed the horizon. With a five-year-old, every morning was an early morning but a commuting husband only stressed that fact further. 

In his white t-shirt and short white Fila shorts, Andrew was quite the looker as he joined you and your son in the kitchen for good morning kisses before he had to run upstairs to shower and get ready for the day. The white clothing stood out against his tanned skin and dark features right down to the white socks and running shoes. He was still that tall, dark, and handsome stranger you fell in love with those few short years ago and the way your eyes trailed after his legs in those itty bitty shorts only had the desire to fill the second bedroom upstairs heating across your cheeks. But you quickly turned back to your work at the counter prepping Richard’s lunch for school. 

Andrew was gone in under an hour and your driveway was left empty as he took the family car for his commute to the train station where he would then take transit into the city. Since the car would be gone every day, Richard was set to take the school bus to school which was a whole new experience for both the five-year-old and yourself. You held his hand as you closed your front door behind you and started on your short walk down the front path of your house and along the curb of the street to the bus stop. Richard’s blue backpack looked almost huge on his back and he carried his metal Flintstones lunch box in the hand that wasn’t claimed by yours. 

At the nearest intersection in your quiet suburbia, a few parents and kids were already standing there and waiting for the bus. Richard tugged at your hand and when you looked down at him, he took his hand out of yours to point to the small forming crowd, “I see James, Mommy!”

“You can go run and say hello. I won’t go anywhere.” you promised. 

He rushed across the street to the sidewalk and met up with his neighbourly friend he had met on moving day. Sure enough, James’ father was also waiting for the bus to arrive like some of the other parents with his daughter sitting in his arms, and as you approached, you shared quiet ‘good morning’s. 

“First day jitters?” you asked lightheartedly. 

“Yeah,” George sighed with a melancholy smile, “Although more so me, apparently.”

“Preaching to the choir.” you agreed. 

There was a pause as you both stared fondly at your boys talking excitedly together with their seemingly huge backpacks and perfectly styled first-day-of-school hair. You sensed yourself being stared at so you looked back to him only to find the culprit being his young daughter perched in his arms. 

“Good morning to you too.” you said sweetly to her. She smiled shyly and leaned her head against George’s as if to hide from you as a stranger. 

He rubbed her back and coaxed her, “Say ‘good morning’, Nance.”

She shook her head and tightened her little arms around his shoulders. 

“Oh, I wanted to thank you and your wife for the delicious apple crisp.” you said, steering the subject away from the unwanted attention to the shy little girl. George glanced at you as you continued, “Andrew and I agreed that it was the best we’ve ever had.”

“That’s great to hear! I’m glad you enjoyed it. I just found the recipe in the recent issue of Home Cooking magazine and thought I’d give it a try.”

Your eyes widened, “You made it?”

George chuckled, “Yeah. I made it. Is that so hard to believe?”

“Well…no…I guess not.” you stammered, trying to collect your words before you embarrassed yourself, “I’ve just never seen my husband pick up a measuring cup yet alone a whole recipe in all six years we’ve been together. I’m impressed.”

He simply shrugged modestly and gave his daughter a little bounce to try and bring a smile to her face, “Baking is just something I like to do in my spare time when I’m not running after these two crazies.” 

“I’ll get that bakeware back to you this week. Don’t want to keep you from your passion projects.”

“No rush!” George promised, “I have plenty.”

“Mommy!” Richard ran right into your legs, burying his face against your thigh, and you only had to glance up to find the cause of his panic was the yellow school bus turning the corner. 

“Aw, Ritchie.” you smiled fondly and crouched down in front of him to take his soft face in your hands, “You and James are gonna have so much fun today! And when you get home, I will meet you right here in this very same spot and we’re going to have spaghetti and meatballs for dinner…your favourite.”

He threw his arms around your neck and you held him close as the bus stopped by the curb and opened the doors for the kids. The older few got on with no issues but a few of the younger ones were facing the similar sense of anxiety as Richard was. Even James was lingering close to George despite the way he tried to play it off. 

“Okay, my handsome boy.” you gently guided your son away from you and pressed a kiss to his cheek, “The faster you go, the faster you come home!”

He nodded sadly. 

George added with a pat to his son’s head, “You two stick together today, alright?”

The boys nodded.

You told your son you loved him and left him with one more kiss before he and his new friend were getting on the school bus together with the rest of the kids. You and George waited there until the bus was long gone around the corner and the other parents started to disperse. Since you were next door neighbours, the two of you walked back towards home together with the added company of George’s daughter still in his arms. 

“What are your plans for today?” he asked you casually as you navigated the tree lined street. 

“Still unpacking a little.” you confessed. “I feel like it’s been going on forever.” 

“I don’t miss that.” he chuckled faintly, “When Jenn and I moved here when we were expecting James it felt like we were never going to get out of the hoard of boxes.” 

“Truly. But I just put on my records and get busy.” you shrugged, tucking your hands in the pockets of your blue jeans. 

“Are you much of a music listener?” George asked. 

“Oh, yes. I’ve been playing Bryan Adam’s album on basically repeat since it came out last year.”

“Cuts Like A Knife?”

You looked over at him with a grin, “Yeah! You know it?”

“Of course. I’m quite into music myself.”

“So is Andy.” you looked back to the street beneath your feet with each slow step side by side, “We met in a music club one night back in ‘78 and you could say he literally swept me off my feet. He plays some guitar but I can’t play an instrument to save my life. We’re hoping Ritchie gets his talent.”

A small smirk tugged at the corner of George’s lips but he nodded modestly, “That’s great. Jenn and I have the same mindset for our two - although I don’t know if she has any musical talent because she claims she never has the time.”

“Maybe I should use that excuse.” you chuckled, “I might deafen you if I ever pick up Andy’s guitar - or if he ever lets me. So if you hear anything that sounds like a dying cat from the next house over, that’s just me and my wonderful musical renditions.”

Stopping by the curb between your two houses, George shared in your smile and your gaze lingered on the way his light eyes shone in the morning sun. He hiked his daughter a bit higher on his hip and readjusted his hands under her bum as he replied smoothly, “I doubt you’re that bad.”

You waved your hand passively as if to brush off his niceties, “You don’t know the half of it. Anyway, all you’ll be hearing is my record player. Please tell me if it gets too loud and disruptive. I can get carried away sometimes.”

“I won’t, but it’s a kind offer.” he smiled with a cock of his head. “Seems you like good music anyway so who am I to complain?” 

You set your hands on your hips with an up-turn of your nose in his direction, a mirrored amused smile on your lips at his playfulness, “Well then, I take my role as neighbourhood DJ very seriously. Any requests, you know where I live.”

“I might take you up on that; watch out.” 

Your conversation naturally faded out under the waving shade of the lush trees that stretched over your suburban street like a canopy and Nancy tapped George’s cheek shyly to get his attention. He looked at her expectantly and she leaned in to whisper to him under the presence of a stranger - you. The quietness of his youngest had George smiling fondly and he rubbed her back with a soft “okay” before looking to you, 

“We have to head back - important date with cartoons and snacks are awaiting us.”

“Of course.” you took a step back towards your lawn, “It was nice seeing you again.”

“You too. And I’m sure we’ll see each other again in the same spot at 3pm sharp.” 

You nodded, “That we will.”

Then, he headed across the lawn towards his house that was nestled closely beside yours and with the satisfaction of a nice conversation with your new neighbour fresh in your heart, you made your way into your own house to start your first day all alone. 

It wasn’t until the next day that you were able to bring over the bakeware to your neighbours’ since you wanted to make a point to wash it first. Richard was off at school again and after lunch you walked across your shared lawn to the house beside yours, sparkling white dish in your hands. You ascended the few stone steps to the front door and knocked against the glass, hidden from the inside by sheer curtains. After only a few moments, someone appeared behind the door and then it was opened to reveal George. 

He smiled warmly at you, “Hey, neighbour.”

You couldn’t hide your slight startle from seeing him, trying to play it cool with a friendly smile and the bakeware held out towards him, “Hi. I brought back your dish. Washed up and everything.”

“Oh, thanks so much.” he took it from you, “You didn’t have to wash it. I’m sure you already have enough on your plate.”

“No trouble. It was the least I could do.” you assured him.

“Did you want to come in?” he asked, “If you don’t have more boxes to unpack.”

You chuckled softly, “I could actually use a break from that overwhelming presence of cardboard.” 

“Yeah?” he stepped aside with a warm smile and a cock of his head, “Come on in.” 

The wood paneled foyer welcomed you in and you stepped over the threshold with a quiet thank you, your flat shoes landing dully against the linoleum tile floors. George shut the door behind you and led you straight through the modest house towards the kitchen, passed the foyer console table that was lined with photographs of his children around a centred wedding photo of him and Jennifer. Your eyes skimmed them on the way past as you followed him into the kitchen. 

“I couldn’t help but expect your wife to answer.” you confessed once you passed by the stairs and entered into the kitchen at the back of the house, the fluorescent lighted ceiling tiles really brightening the space with that 1984 modern touch, “Are you taking the day off?”

“Nope. Everyday is a work day for me. I’m a stay at home dad…Jenn brings home the bacon.” George explained as he opened one of the wood cabinets and crouched down to stack the clean bakeware with the rest under the counter. He then walked around the small island to the corner of the kitchen where the kettle was resting on the stove, “Would you like tea or anything?”

“Tea would be lovely.” 

He filled the kettle at the kitchen sink before setting it on the stove again and turning on the heat to boil the water. You stood just out of the way, head whirling with the concept that he was the one who stayed home while his wife worked. You couldn’t help but be nosy. 

“So what does Jennifer do for work?” 

George opened the fridge to take out the carton of milk, “She’s an executive assistant to some big shot CEO in the city. He’s pretty demanding so she’s always somewhere or another.”

“That’s impressive.” 

“Yeah, I’m proud of her.” George pulled a tight lipped smile as he fetched two mugs from one of the cupboards and set them on the counter as the kettle boiled. “We knew when we got married that we wanted at least one of us to be home with the kids as they grew up and her job was already pretty set in stone and secure so we agreed that I’d take the at-home responsibilities.”

“Hence the apple crisp skills.”

“Exactly.” George leaned back against the counter opposite you and he crossed his arms over his chest casually, “Although with two little ones, I’m surprised I have time for much of that. It’s so hectic sometimes. I guess that’s the one good thing about James going off to school now; one less kiddo to chase after during the day.”

“Oh, gosh, I’m sure.” you agreed politely before glancing around the unfamiliar house, “Where’s your other?”

“Napping. We went to the park earlier then had lunch and she was knackered. I’m sure she won’t bother us.”

“Never a bother.” you tisked, “I love kids.”

“But you only have one?” George asked before quickly following it up with a, “Sorry if that’s an invasive statement.”

“No, no. You’re fine.” you shrugged, “Where we lived before was a tiny apartment in Manhattan that Andrew had bought when he was a bachelor after moving from London. Ritchie was literally sleeping in the den with the desk and filing cabinet and things. There was literally no room for another kid.”

“And the time was right to move into a proper house?”

“Yeah. We didn’t feel totally settled in the city and with a young kid I felt like he needed a yard to run around in.”

“I understand that. That’s why we moved out here after we were married. The appeal is just so much nicer than Manhattan when thinking of settling down.” 

There was something about George that felt so trustworthy and kind and you found yourself easily relaxing in his company enough to confess, “We didn’t have the luxury of planning. Our relationship was a little…out of order.” 

The whistle on the kettle blew and George turned to take it off the stove and shut off the heat while also continuing your conversation, “Out of order? What do you mean?”

“Well…we got married because I was pregnant.” 

George’s lips formed a silent ‘o’ in realization and he glanced over at you for a brief moment as he filled the mugs, not quite knowing what to say.

“Married at 20 isn’t totally ideal.” you chuckled, scuffing the toe of your shoe against the tile floor. “But we were in love so it was okay. And Richard is the best kid we could have asked for.”

“All worked out then.” George said with a kind smile in your direction. 

You nodded faintly, “Yeah.”

“Milk? Sugar?” he asked with a gesture to the filled and steeping mugs. 

“Milk would be great, thanks.” 

George prepped the tea and even grabbed a few cookies from the cookie jar to place on a plate for your early afternoon snack and then you followed him back down the hallway and towards the formal living room adjacent to the foyer, passing the photographs once again. The built-in bookcases along the far wall housed more pictures and trinkets from over the years and your eyes lingered on them as you sat on the blue upholstered couch and George arranged your drinks on coasters on the cherry coffee table. With you on one end of the couch, he sat on the other end with a respectable distance between you. 

“I was just admiring your photographs.” you confessed when you finally tore your gaze away from the collection across the shelves and you leaned forward to grab your tea with a quiet thanks to him. 

“Yeah.” he smiled fondly as he glanced over the frames he was all too familiar with, “I like having them around.” 

“The wedding one in the foyer was really sweet.” 

George sipped his tea with that gentle upturn of his lips and an acknowledging, “Mhm.”

“How long have you two been married?”

George leaned back on the couch and looked to the ceiling in thought, his mug held at a rest on top of his blue jean clad thigh, “We were married in ‘77 I think…the years seem to get a little foggy. And Jenn doesn’t like to make a big deal about anniversaries so it’s not like we diligently keep track.”

“Oh. Why doesn’t she like to make a big deal?”

He shrugged, “Dunno, really. I think she’s so busy all the time that having one less thing to worry about is easier. The first few years were celebrated and even planned the odd stay-cation but after the five year mark and having kids…it’s just easier to not really bother as much.”

“I guess so. I think Andy and I are the same way…although we never really had the money for stay-cations or elaborate gifts anyway. He’ll just buy me flowers.” 

“Flowers are good.” George smiled over at you. 

“Yeah.” you exhaled.

“I’m more of the romantic one in my marriage but Jenn isn’t into the whole bit of gifts and time and whatnot so I’ve had to learn to cut back or she gets so overwhelmed.”

You frowned and met his gaze, “That makes me sad.”

He shrugged with a melancholy smile, “Eh, it’s okay. We had our share of mushy love in high school anyway. Maybe we’re just too old for all that now.” 

“High school sweethearts?” you pried. 

“Mhm.” George’s eyes sparkled. “Met her in our first year of high school when my family had just moved here from London. We were the graduating class of ‘73.” 

Your eyebrows furrowed as you tried to do the mental math for a moment before finally asking, “So how old are you then?”

George cocked his head to the side with an amused expression, “How old do you think I am?”

“I don’t want to answer that.” you laughed, tucking your hair behind your ear as you looked down to your steaming mug of tea held in your lap. 

He spared you with his answer, “I’m 29.”

“Okay, not far off from us. We’re both 26.” you added. 

“Still young.” George bantered lightly, “Did you want more kids? Now that you have a bigger house and all.”

“Yeah. I’ve always wanted a whole bunch…Andrew not so much though. He took some time to warm up to Ritchie when I told him I was pregnant the first time so I’m not sure how he’d feel about the pitch of a second.”

“Doesn’t hurt to ask. Marriage is all about give and take, right?”

George’s statement inflicted a bit of ache in your chest as it forced you to reflect back on your six years with Andrew and the desires and plans of your own that you had pushed down to help him thrive in his own life and career. You sipped your tea quietly without a reply, taking a second to daydream about the filled house you had always wanted ever since you were a little girl. A house full of kids and a little job for yourself on the side and a husband who treated you like a queen. You were treated well by him - that was never a question - but everything always felt as if it was falling short to your expectations. 

“Sorry.” George’s voice tore you from your thoughts, “I don’t mean to force my way into your marriage as some sort of psychologist.” 

“No, no. That’s okay. It just has me thinking.” you looked over at him again with a melancholy smile, “We were just so young and I didn’t really have a chance to know myself or what I wanted before we got married. Andy’s such a good guy but sometimes there’s some sort of disconnect in what we both strive for.”

“That’s fair. But even time doesn’t guarantee that perfect connection. Like how Jenn and I differ with what we want in terms of romance and showing our love. I love the words, the gifts, the intimacy…whereas she just likes when I do her laundry or make her lunch.”

“Got those reverse gender roles, huh?”  

George cracked a half smile, “That’s actually very true. I finish tidying this entire house by the time she gets home from work, the kids are already bathed and in bed, and she’s ‘too tired’ to spend any time with me. Honestly, I don’t even know how we ended up with two kids.”

You both shared faint laughter behind casual sips of your tea. 

“That’s not much different on our side of the fence.” you agreed. “Must be that working world that just absolutely obliterates someone’s intimacy desires. Is it that tiring?”

“Commuting an hour and a half into the city there and back every day doesn’t help.”

You tisked, “Of course not.”

“It’s easy to feel lonely. I didn’t understand it when I was growing up…seeing my mom being a homemaker and all…but when you’re in it…”

It was the first time someone truly acknowledged how you felt - and a man at that. Even your husband didn’t quite get it, but why would he? But suddenly this stranger was speaking the words that you were too ashamed to even think about and you felt like a weight of a cloud was pulled from your shoulders. 

“Yeah.” you breathed, sharing the air across the couch with your unwavering gazes, “That’s exactly it.”

“And then your kids grow up…”

“And then what do you have?” you concluded his sentence, “What is your purpose after that?”

George tisked lightly and scooted slightly closer so he could set his hand on your knee, “You have purpose, okay? You’re not just a mother and not just a homemaker and not just a wife. You’re a woman too.”

You bit lightly at your bottom lip, staring into his gorgeous blue eyes that suddenly seemed to push a warmth through your chest and up to your cheeks. 

“You have purpose and you have value.” he told you like he was telling you the most honest truth. 

“Thank you.” you mouthed back, worried that if you spoke out loud, your voice might break. 

He gave your knee a gentle reassuring squeeze, “Of course.”

You both stayed there, frozen, for a moment, just staring at each other. You felt some sort of warmth all around you from more than just the half empty mug of tea still clutched in your hands, realizing how close you were now. Tearing your gaze away from his light eyes, you naturally glanced at his lips and watched as they perked up at the corner in a gentle smile, moulding the shape of his soft lips and his precisely shaped cupid's bow that you couldn’t help but stare at.

The moment you got the urge to lean in, you turned your head away from him and cleared your throat as you set your mug on the coffee table. His hand was removed from your leg. 

“I should go…” you mumbled. 

George stood when you did, “Okay.”

“Thank you…for the tea and the company.” you said to the ground as if scared to look at him in fear of feeling those strange warm flutters again. 

“Of course. I’m always here…whenever you want to talk or anything.” he promised before leaning down to pick up the plate of untouched cookies, “Biscuit for the long journey home?”

You smiled at his playfulness and when you grabbed one from the plate, you finally looked him in the eye again, “Thank you.” 

“Let me walk you out.” 

He held his arm out for you to urge you to lead the way and you slid between him and the coffee table to make your way to the front door, trying not to focus on the scent of his cologne as you drifted by him so closely. You needed to get out of there. 

You barely remembered saying goodbye or the ghostly touch to your arm he offered in passing before you were out in the fresh air of your neighbourhood and you were trying not to stumble down his front path. The cookie was still held in your hand and your startled eyes darted back over your shoulder to his shut front door before you broke out into a brisk walk across the lawn and onto your own property. 

In the peace of your house, you shut your own front door once back inside and you leaned against it heavily, your chest rising and falling in your half panicked breaths. Nothing had happened but it felt like it had and the strange feeling of guilt bubbled up in your stomach. You had never before had thoughts of another man apart from Andrew but you pinned it to George’s manners and how he only said what you wanted to hear. There was nothing to feel guilty about because absolutely nothing happened. Just because you thought something didn’t mean you did anything wrong. 

The cookie was still in your hand and you pushed yourself away from the door to take it straight into the kitchen and you tossed it in the garbage bin, closing the lid loudly. 

Andrew got home around 6:45, just when you were putting dinner on the table. Richard hopped out of his chair to greet him with an excited hug and your husband crouched down to meet him with a wide grin and open arms. He asked his son how school was and half listened to his youthful explanation of his day as he greeted you with a kiss to the corner of your mouth and drifted past you to his seat at your dining room table. 

You ate together as a family like you almost always did and then when Andrew retired to the family room to wind down and watch some TV, you took Richard upstairs to get ready for bed. The little boy was bathed and dressed and afterwards he rushed downstairs to say goodnight to his father before you were tucking him into his single bed in his blue wallpapered room. You always loved watching your son fall asleep; there was something so peaceful about it and gave you a moment to admire his soft features without him running away with youthful exuberance. With a kiss to his head, you left him to sleep and shit his door behind you before making your way back downstairs. 

MTV was playing on the chunky TV across the family room and Andrew glanced up at you from the couch when you entered. He held his arm up and you gladly took the spot beside him and cuddled up close. He rested his head against yours with a soft sigh as he focused back on the music video he was watching with the host of MTV counting up that week's hits from the charts. 

“Imagine if I was #1.” he spoke quietly, almost dreamily. “Making it big in some internationally known band rather than rotting in some office in Manhattan. We’d have the money to afford an even bigger house.” 

You hummed plainly in acknowledgement and slid your arm around his middle as if in some desire to melt completely into him. 

Your lack of response had him looking over at you, “You okay?”

“I’m fine.” you mumbled.  

You weren’t looking at him but you could feel how he stayed staring at you for a few more seconds before he turned back to the TV too, not wanting to press you further. But then you shifted at his side so you could tuck your legs under yourself on the couch and face him properly. 

“Andy.”

“What’s up, sugar?” he rested his head back against his couch so he could look at you again. 

The random pop music video played on in the background. 

“I wanted to talk to you about something.” you confessed, trailing the hem of his collared work shirt with your finger. 

“Alright.” he leaned forward to mute the TV and the smiling dancers danced to nothing on the screen, giving you his full attention. 

When he was settled back in his spot on the couch, his big brown eyes on you and his hand on your thigh right where George’s had been earlier that day, you just blurted it out, “I want to have another baby.”

Said big brown eyes blinked at you once, twice, then his eyebrows furrowed for a half second before he spoke, “Oh.”

“We have a bigger house now and that empty room upstairs has been just calling to me or something. And I’ve always wanted many kids and Ritchie is the best we could ask for…where’s the harm in having a second of him?”

Andrew sighed and gave your thigh a squeeze just like George had, “I dunno, sugar.”

“Why not?” you frowned and leaned in closer to him, almost pleadingly. 

“Well, work is busy so I won’t be home much and we just are getting settled in this new place-”

“We’ll still have nine months to prepare!” you reminded him quickly. 

Andrew laughed lightly towards the carpet, “Yes, I know, but now Ritchie’s away at school and he’s already big and-”

“Which means I won’t have my hands as full taking care of a baby and a kid at home.”

“I don’t think we need another. I am perfectly happy with our little family as is. Aren’t you?”

You nibbled at your bottom lip as you stared at him while he looked at you expectantly and everything in your heart wanted to tell him no but your quiet voice abandoned you with a soft, “Yeah, I guess.”

Andrew lifted his hand from your lap to tuck your hair behind your ear before pulling you close by his arm around your shoulders, “Maybe you’re just saying this because you’re not used to being alone since Ritchie started school.”

“Maybe.” you muttered. 

“I am very happy with the life we have. I don’t need anything more.” he tried to be sweet about it but your heart ached and even as he kissed the corner of your mouth, you had to force the smile to come to your lips. 

Andrew rested his head against yours as he unmuted the TV and the top hit pop song filled your family room and the big house that felt empty in your heart. Your eyes drifted away from the screen to peer through the adjacent window that looked out towards the neighbour’s property and although only looking at red brick and white siding, you silently and guiltily wished you had what they had.

Since Richard had no siblings, you knew that it would be important for him to socialize outside of school with kids his own age at various activities. He had expressed interest in baseball not long before so you jumped on the opportunity to sign him up for the local little league team just before the fall season was set to start. You, yourself, were excited for a bit of a distraction after the ultimate letdown that was your conversation with your husband a few evenings prior although Andrew went about his days like nothing was wrong. 

On Tuesday evening, you were getting Richard into his baseball uniform for his first practice, making sure that the shirt and pants fit him properly on his young body that seemed to be growing faster than you could buy clothes for it. He stood proudly in his mirror in his room as you adjusted his navy blue baseball cap over his dark hair and swooped his messy bangs out of his face. Grinning up at you in approval, he didn’t even have to say a word for you to read exactly what was on his mind. 

“You look so grown up, Ritchie!” you gushed, crouching down to his height for one last shirt adjustment, “You excited?”

“Yeah! I’m gonna get a home run!” he announced. 

“I bet you are!” you held up your hand and he smacked his little palm against yours for a high five. “Come now, let’s show Daddy and then get your shoes on.” 

Richard rushed right out of his bedroom and hurried down the stairs in his socked feet, “Daddy, I’m ready!” 

Andrew was already waiting by the front door and seeing his son coming down the stairs brought a beaming grin to his face, “Looking so spiffy, little slugger.” 

You passed over the baseball shoes to your husband, “Can you put his shoes on for him while I get the snacks?”

“Of course.” Andrew took the pair from you and crouched down in front of the little boy who obediently rested his hands on his father’s shoulders and stuck one foot out for a shoe. 

You returned to the kitchen that still had the dinner dishes in the sink in need of washing but time was already cutting it close and you were already in a bit of a rush to get to the field in time. The cooler was packed and sitting beside the fridge and you checked that the watermelon slices and Hi-C juice boxes were tucked away with some bags of ice before locking the lid and carrying it back down the hallway to your family. Andrew took the cooler from you to carry it to the car himself and you ushered your excited five-year-old out of the door after him so you could close up the house. 

As you walked down the front path to the driveway, you couldn’t help but glance over to your neighbours’ and notice their family car was missing from their house. You forced yourself to ignore the curiosity that was getting the better of you as you had been in a constant strive to pretend absolutely nothing had happened between you and George. In reality, nothing did happen, but the strange feeling of guilt was eating at your heart. Some distance would do just the trick, you were sure. 

It was nice to have Andrew able to come to Richard’s first little league practice, especially after he was tired from a long day of commuting and work, but you thanked him silently with a quick kiss to his cheek as you climbed in the passenger seat of your station wagon. His warm smile back at you still managed to bring that little flutter to your heart after your six years together and you broke his gaze to glance to your son in the back seat. Richard gave you two thumbs up and a beaming grin that was all his father’s, making his big brown eyes scrunch closed at the corners, all ready to go to his first event. 

The community park was only about a five minute drive from your house and once Andrew pulled into the gravel parking lot, it appeared that there were still some families pulling up. The baseball diamond looked busy though so you hurried to get your son all signed in and so he could meet his teammates and coach. Andrew took the cooler and your hand while Richard ran ahead in his own determination to socialize. You joined the queue of parents by the team dugout who were signing in their sons and as you waited, you both watched Richard help himself to the group of boys who were playing in the red sand of the baseball diamond, all in matching navy blue uniforms with their own chosen number on their backs. 

After a few moments, Andrew gave your hand a squeeze to get your attention, “I’m going to put the cooler down and find us a spot on the bleachers. You okay to sign him in?”

“Of course.” you agreed. 

He left you with a brief kiss before heading off to the metal bleachers that were already dotted with parents and families alike. You watched him go for a few seconds before turning back to the lineup you were in, only to find yourself face to face with George himself. You were so startled that you nearly choked over your breath but he just smiled cooly. 

“Hello, neighbour.”

“Hey.” you stumbled out. “Hi. What are you doing here?”

George glanced down at his blue baseball jersey and then back to you with a casual wave of the clipboard in his hand, “I’m the coach.”

“Oh, right, of course you are.” you chuckled faintly. 

“Your boy signing up?”

“Yeah, his name should be on the list. Richard Ridgeley.”

George, who had looked down at his clipboard after his initial question, only glanced back up at you with his eyebrows raised. 

“What?” you asked worriedly.

He licked away his smile and looked back down to his list with a half shake of his head, “Nothing.”

If it was anyone else, you would have been mad, but it was George and you knew he meant no harm. You couldn’t help but smother a smile of your own in return, “Are you making fun of my son’s name?”

“Not at all. I love alliteration. Very poetic.” 

“Okay, shut up.” you laughed. “I bet your last name is no better.”

“Russell.” he told you smoothly with a playful glance. 

You scoffed teasingly, “Of course…George Russell…what a champion kinda name.”

“Who knows…maybe I’ll be MVP before you know it and you’ll be seeing my face everywhere…getting totally sick of me.” 

“Mhm.” you tried to steady the racing of your heart at the realization that you were already trying not to see his face everywhere, desperate to change the subject, “So is my kid on the list or not?”

“Yeah, yeah, he’s here.” George crossed his name off, “I also see you’re down for snack duty.”

“Sure am. Brought my cooler and everything.” you gestured aimlessly towards the bleachers.

George looked back up at you but his eyes drifted past you with a tight smile. Before you could look over your shoulder to see what he was looking at, Andrew appeared beside you and set his hand on your back. 

“All signed up?” he asked. 

“Yeah. We’re all set.” you answered calmly. 

“Hey, mate, good to see you.” George held his hand out to your husband and they shook hands politely. 

“You too.” Andrew smiled, “It’s been a while.” 

“Sure has.” 

“Well we should let you get set up.” you said, taking a step away from George and closer to Andrew. 

“No worries.” George adjusted his cap on his head with a smile, “See ya after.”

Then he was walking off into the baseball diamond to corral the little boys to begin their practice. You and Andrew headed back to the bleachers and to the spot he had saved for you with the cooler and you sat on the metal bench between the other interested parents. It was surprising that so many parents wanted to stay and watch even if it was just a practice but it reinstated your good feelings about your new neighbourhood and how involved everyone was with the community. 

While George directed the boys through throwing drills and showing them how to swing the bats, you found yourself staring more at him than you son. There wasn’t really much to watch when the other kids were taking their turns anyway and there was something about George in those light wash blue jeans that just drew your eyes in shamelessly. They just fit so nicely over the curve of his ass and you habitually licked your lips with a focused cock of your head. 

Andrew’s arm draping around your shoulders made you jump and you pressed a hand to your heart despite his grinning face and you huffed, “You scared me.”

“That into the practice, huh?” he chuckled.

“Yeah.” you mumbled and looked back to the field for a moment, pulling Richard out of the crowd of boys with ease before you glanced back at your husband, “I’m glad you could come.”

“Of course.” Andrew smiled over at you in the evening sunshine, “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Well, I dunno. With work and the longer commute and all…you’ve seemed more tired…busy.”

Andrew sighed and pulled you closer by your shoulders and you rested your head against his as he spoke to you quietly, “Yeah, it has been a lot to get used to. I’m sorry I haven’t been around much and if you feel like I’m letting you down.” 

“Oh, you’re not letting me down.” you assured him, lifting your head up again so you could give him your full attention, “I’m proud of you for sticking with it even when it gets hard. You work so hard for Ritchie and for me and I really do appreciate it.”

Andrew reached his free hand up to tap your nose lightly and you shared in his calm smile before he was guiding you towards him by the chin for a kiss or two. 

“I love you.” he whispered against your cheek.

Your eyes drifted back out to the field, “I love you too.”

At the halfway mark, George called you over with the snacks and Andrew let you slip out of his arms to do your little job. You helped to hand out the juice boxes and watermelon slices to each little boy and most said thank you - and your son even gave you a kiss with his thanks. George stood beside you to watch as his little players ate their snack and relaxed on the grass for a few minutes and once your stock was empty, you closed up your cooler. 

“Thanks again for bringing the snack.” George said as you stood up. 

“Any time.” you smiled, “Is it a rotation thing or is it one parent for the season?”

“It depends. Why, are you willing to be the designated snack-bringer?”

“For you, sure.” 

It was out of your mouth before you could think about how it would sound and George’s expression rose into a hint of amusement. 

You cleared your throat, “And the boys, of course.”

“Of course.” George nodded. 

You stared at each other for a few seconds. 

Then, his hand was on your arm, “I should get back to practice. I will expect you here with snacks next week then.”

He was gone before you could process the warmth that his touch left and you just smiled and nodded after him as he herded the snacking boys back to the diamond, the sunshine yellow '63' printed boldly on the back of his jersey. You carried your empty cooler to the bleachers again and sat yourself stiffly beside your husband who was oblivious to anything going on and, instead, was waving to your son from across the field. 

For the next week or two, you ran into George more than you’d have ideally wanted. Between school drop off and pick up, little league baseball practice, and the casual neighbourly run-ins, it was starting to feel nearly impossible to avoid him. And, at the same time, the more you saw him, the more you didn’t want to avoid him. There was something so charismatic about him that made him so easy to talk to and to confide in and you hated to confess that you took him up on his offer for tea once or twice during the week. While you sipped in his living room, there was never a silent moment as there was always something to talk about and even little Nancy was starting to warm up to you just a little. 

Despite your fluctuating feelings towards your neighbour, your guilt was something that stayed stagnant. You loved Andrew with your whole heart and you never once doubted that, but the strange warmth that spread across your skin at a mere glance at George was unlike anything you had felt before. You swore it would be something you would take to the grave. No one - especially not George or Andrew - needed to know the internal battle you were facing. 

Since your first conversation with George at his house two weeks earlier, you only started to see more and more of the truth behind your honest chat. Andrew was working himself exhausted between the commute into the city and the lengthy hours which left almost no time for you to relax as husband and wife the way you would have appreciated. You tried to talk to him here and there about it but you also didn’t want to make him feel badly - you knew he was trying his absolute best and for that you were grateful. But still, at the end of the day, you were still a woman with needs and it was growing increasingly more frustrating to sit around and wait for him to give you the satisfaction that you needed. 

The one good thing about Richard being off at school was that you had more private time which, with children, often was incredibly few and far between. With your record player on, you were listening to Madonna’s album as you vacuumed the main floor of your house, letting your mind wander on its own. Maybe it was the emptiness of your house or maybe it was a certain time in your hormonal cycle but as the seconds ticked by, your desire to tend to the house diminished greatly. Finally, the vacuum was turned off mid chore and you rested it down on the carpet before flopping back onto the couch with a huff to the ceiling. Your music played on from the other room, the familiar scratch of the vinyl record bringing comfort and you closed your eyes for a moment to let yourself be taken by the celestial voice of Madonna. 

As if with a mind of their own, your fingers inched their way over your thigh and up to the waistband of your straight leg blue jeans and you popped the button, taking an habitual glance towards the front door as if someone were going to walk right in unannounced. But you were in the complete privacy of your own home, away from the paper thin walls of Manhattan apartment buildings, and you could do as you so pleased. Your jeans were dropped to the carpeted floor. 

Propping your feet up on the edge of the coffee table in front of you, you got yourself situated comfortably within the warm embrace of the sofa cushions and your eyes were drawn to your framed wedding photo that sat on the fireplace mantle directly in front of you. Licking your lips and then your fingertips, you didn’t tear your eyes away from it as you slipped your hand down the front of your underwear and refamiliarized yourself with your body. 

It had been so long that the first graze of your fingers had your lips parting in a soft gasp, working yourself slowly without any sort of prior build up, gentle circles over your aching clit. You hadn’t realized how many weeks had gone by without any sort of touch like this until you got yourself in that position. Under slightly furrowed brows, you stared straight ahead at your wedding photo, eyes boring into those of your husband without so much as a blink; almost as if you were reconditioning yourself to direct your full entire attention at him and him alone.

No more nonsense thoughts of the neighbour. 

Even though you spoke that line to yourself in warning, the concept just tasted so good to your mind with your hand down your panties and your legs spread in the middle of your sun-bathed family room. Flashes of him at the last little league game filled your head; the way his arms looked in that snug navy blue t-shirt standing out against his lightly tanned skin…his blue eyes sparkling every time he looked at you. You couldn’t help but let your eyes flutter closed and your head fell back against the couch with a soft whimper, shutting out the framed photo with the curse of your own mind. 

Little did you know, said neighbour was on his way over to your house at that very moment with a sealed Tupperware container in hand and a whistle on his lips. The faint muffled sound of Madonna leaking through your walls brought a fond smile to George’s face as he crossed over onto your property and made strides over your perfectly trimmed grass. His attention was caught by the sight of you through the single paned front window and he went to send you a smile and a wave until he stopped in his tracks at the realization of what he had stumbled upon. 

There you were, lounged back on your couch, socked feet propped up on the coffee table with your legs spread and your hand nestled between them. The look on your face was nearly erotic as you faced the ceiling with an angelic furrowed expression and made yourself writhe under your own touch, any sounds muted by the music that filled your empty home. 

George stepped away from the front window so as to not be caught and he turned to head back home to give you your privacy but before he crossed over the property line again, something stopped him. Almost like he was held by an invisible force, he stood dumbly at the edge of your lawn, staring at his house, the Tupperware container of homemade banana bread held in his hands. Everything in him knew it was wrong but he couldn’t help but glance back to the side of your white paneled home to the side window that gave him a direct glance inside and to the couch on which you sat. 

If anyone drove by, they would have thought this man looked absolutely ridiculous just standing there, but he was captivated by you, watching you touch yourself to whatever thoughts were taking up your mind. Little did he know, but they were thoughts of him. 

His name fell from your lips when you came, almost startling yourself in the process. As your body shuttered through the small waves of your orgasm, your eyes snapped open to land on your wedding photo again as if your husband had seen the whole thing. A furious blush came to your cheeks and you panted heavily as you tried to catch your bearings and process the realization of what you had just done. Sitting up a little more on the couch, you found yourself unable to look at the framed photograph again, instead, staring wide eyed into the darkened fireplace beneath. 

A flutter through the window beside the fireplace caught your eye but when you looked, there was nothing there. You hurried to tug your jeans back on and buttoned them up before making a beeline to the kitchen to wash your hands and splash some cool water on your face. What was wrong with you? Your husband was going to walk through the door in four hours and you were going to have to kiss him hello with the mouth that just moaned another man’s name. You were going to have to face said man at the bus stop in an hour and that was the last thing you wanted to do.

Before you knew it,

“Hey.”

“Hello.”

Silence. 

“Did you have a good day?”

“Huh? Oh, me? Yeah…fine. It was fine. Nothing…important.” you looked to the sidewalk beneath your feet. 

George nodded, “Nice.”

Silence. 

“How was yours?” you asked. 

“Fine. It was good.”

“Good.”

“Good.” 

Silence. 

You urged the bus to round the corner with the pleading glance of your eyes, desperate to escape the horribly awkward situation that was completely one sided. George cleared his throat, shifting his weight from one foot to another at your side. Neither of you knew what the other knew and somehow it made it that much worse. You swore that even a few of the other parents at the bus stop were catching onto your horrible tension and you tugged at the collar of your shirt habitually to try and get some air. 

In reality, it was all in your head but, to be fair, George was all in your head too and that was the root of your issue. As you stood there, your mind taunted you with the thoughts that had clouded your mind that afternoon - curious imagination of how his lips would feel or how his hands could grab you or how his body would feel against yours, traced by your fingertips. You discreetly stepped away from him. 

In perfect time, the bright yellow school bus rounded the corner and you took that opportunity to step even further away from George, feigning it as simply excitement to see your son. Like every afternoon, Richard ran off the bus and right into your arms and you hugged him tightly with your warm maternal greeting. You barely gave George a goodbye before you were encouraging your son to race you home - a perfect excuse to get as far away from George as possible…and as quickly as possible. Of course, despite the way you ran down your street in the afternoon breeze, you still let Richard get to the front door first and you let him inside with a ruffle to his hair and one last glance from where you came, almost as if you were hoping to see your neighbour trailing after you. 

Later that evening, once Andrew was home and dinner was had and Ritchie was tucked into bed, you were desperate to repair the damage to your mind that you had caused by your own actions. Your husband was sitting in the same spot on the couch as you had been earlier that day, already in his pyjamas, a magazine in his hand as he read quietly by the light of the table lamp. He was oblivious but you felt as though just him sitting there would cause him to realize what you had done so the only way to prevent that was to bring your full and entire attention back to him - where it rightfully belonged. 

You plucked the magazine from his hands and tossed it onto the coffee table, urging his eyes to raise to your face as you tossed a leg over his lap and sat yourself down on his thighs. His hands fell to your hips just as you swooped in to kiss him purposefully, lingering on his lips for a few seconds before offering him a bit of tongue. He humoured you for a few seconds before he was tilting his head back with a soft chuckle to break your kiss. 

“What are you doing?” he asked playfully. 

You slung your arms around his shoulders and leaned forward against his chest until your noses were almost touching, asking him almost pleadingly, “Have sex with me.”

Andrew’s hands gave your hips a squeeze, “You know I love you,”

“Mhm.”

“But I’m far too tired for that right now, sugar, I’m sorry.”

“Andy.” you dropped your head back in frustration, staring at the same part of the ceiling that you had earlier that day.

“I’ll be nothing but completely disappointing to you.” he argued lightly. “You deserve my best.”

You frowned and slid off his lap onto the couch beside him with a sigh. 

“I’m sorry.” he repeated, leaving his hand on your waist to keep you close and he kissed up your neck, “It was just a really exhausting day today. Maybe this weekend, okay?”

“Since when do we have to plan it?” you tisked. 

“Since we got old.” he teased. 

A small smile perked at the corner of your lips and you swatted him gently with the back of your hand, “Speak for yourself.” 

Andrew kissed over your cheek and to your lips and you shared a few brief kisses before he replied softly, “We are the same age, in case you forgot, and thus we are going to get old together.”

Never before did that statement bring a tinge to your heart but in that moment it did and you could only pull a tight smile and nod in reply and he gave you one more kiss before shifting off the couch and taking you by the hand to lead you to bed. 

By Friday, you seemed to have fallen back into your usual routine of pretending that George didn’t exist. The few times you saw each other in passing or at the baseball games were few and far between and conversations didn’t stray farther than a polite hello or shallow discussions about your sons or the weather. Your initial guilt due to your solo situation on your couch from earlier in the week seemed to die down and you were very thankful for that. George was a great guy and you appreciated him as your neighbour and wanted to keep it that way. 

That might also have been a reason why he was the first person you thought to call when your washing machine flooded all over your basement floor just after lunch. If nothing else, he was kind and reliable. He came over right away with his tool box in hand and you opened the front door for him and led the way into the basement where the flood was occurring. The unfinished concrete floor was covered with a thin layer of cold water that only seemed to be leaking more from somewhere behind the washing machine. 

“I haven’t even used it since we moved in!” you said as you stepped cautiously through the water to your laundry basket that was sitting protected on top of the machine. “First time and of course it goes to shit.”

“It’s okay.” George set his tool box on top of the adjacent dryer and then leaned over the two machines to see down between them and the wall, flashlight in hand. “Good you called. Wouldn’t want you flooding away.”

“My new house at that.” you added. 

“Exactly.” George wrapped his hands around the sides of the washer and warned you politely, “Step back a bit.”

When you did, he heaved the machine away from the wall with a tight grunt and your eyes widened at the bulge of his biceps under his t-shirt. It certainly wasn’t a light thing to move so you coloured yourself impressed and you stayed out of his way as he managed to give himself enough space to get between the washer and the wall with a wrench from his tool box. You clutched your hands together and held them anxiously in front of your mouth as you watched him crouched down working, focusing your attention on hoping there was no damage done to your house rather than how his jeans fit him so nicely over his thighs.

“Nothing major.” he called out with his head still hidden by the washing machine, “Just a loose pipe. Guess they weren’t installed correctly.” 

“Damn.” you tisked.

“Yeah,” George chuckled, his voice tight as he worked the wrench around the pipe to fix it for you, “That’s what you can expect from these installers on new builds. They’re getting sloppy.” 

“You seem to know what you’re doing.”

George straightened up carefully from behind the washing machine, “Same thing happened to us when we moved in, if you can believe. I actually liked to pay attention to what the plumber was telling me…and guess it helped to save you $30.”

Your eyes widened, “$30? My Lord.” 

“Yeah,” George chuckled and set his wrench back in his tool box, “Should be all set now. If you have some towels we can use to mop up the floor that could be good. I can restart this load for you.”

“Sure. Thanks.” you headed back upstairs and traipsed your damp footsteps up to the second floor to retrieve all your towels you owned from the linen cupboard in the main bathroom. 

Bringing them all back to the basement, George had restarted your load of laundry that you had attempted to put on - including detergent and fabric softener and even set it to the correct wash cycle for your blouses. He then showed you the most efficient way to mop up the water with the towels without allowing it to leak into the foundation of the house and you couldn’t help but be impressed by his knowledge base. 

“I can’t thank you enough.” you said with a relieved sigh as you both stood on the bottom step of the basement stairs and admired the organized mess of towels soaking up the water.

“No problem at all.” George assured you modestly, “Was the most interesting thing to happen today.”

“Yeah, I bet.” you chuckled, “Nothing like a damsel in distress call to really shake up the lunch hour.”

“Hardly a damsel in distress.” George brushed his hand over your back casually, “You’re perfectly capable in many ways.”

You met his eye in the dim basement lighting before turning to look back up the flight of stairs as you cleared your throat, “Did you want tea or anything?”

“Sure. If you’re offering.” 

As you led the way back upstairs and into your kitchen, you realized that was the first time he was in your house. Of course, it was when your basement was flooding and you had breakfast dishes still in the sink and Richard’s toy cars scattered all over the family room and part of you felt embarrassed as if you had to impress him for some reason. 

“Sorry that the place is such a mess.” you rushed out as you hurried across the kitchen to try and make the mound of dishes in the sink look less disgusting. 

“No need to apologise.” George tisked, “Realities of parenthood. I get it. I don’t judge.” 

“Yeah.” you sent a calm smile over at him in silent thanks before focusing on filling up the kettle in the sink, ready to make you both tea just like he did for you that first day you truly talked. 

George set his tool box on the round kitchen table and stuffed his hands in the front pockets of his jeans as he walked slowly around the kitchen and took in your shiny new house that was already starting to look like a home. The counter by the hallway archway was covered in pens and stamps and opened mail on which your address was written on each and addressed to ‘Mr and Mrs Andrew J Ridgeley’. George looked away, walking across the linoleum floor towards you and he leaned against the counter beside the stove as you turned on the burner and set the kettle down on top. 

“Where’s Nancy today?” you asked casually. 

“Oh, sometimes she goes to work with Jenn on Fridays and spends the day at the daycare in the office building. She has a few little friends there and whatnot so she likes it.” George explained. 

“That’s nice.” you replied, “So on Fridays you really feel like an empty-nester like me, huh?”

George laughed faintly, “Yeah, I suppose I do.”

“Good thing I saved you then today.”

“Very good thing.” George agreed smoothly. 

There was a calm pause between you as the kettle boiled on the stovetop and you looked away from his light-eyed gaze with a casual lick to your lips. You tapped your fingers against the countertop. 

“Y’know,” George said, “I was worried you were avoiding me recently or something.”

You looked back at him, “What?”

“I just felt like you’ve been going out of your way not to talk to me or something so getting your call today kinda reassured me that we’re still on good terms.”

You let out a half laugh and rested your hand against your forehead for a brief moment in near embarrassment, “Actually…I kinda was, honestly.”

George’s eyes widened, “Oh? Did I do something?”

“No, no.” you assured him quickly, “We have just been spending a lot of time together and I didn’t want Andy to get the wrong idea.”

“Did he say something?”

“Well…no…but-”

“Then what wrong idea is there to get?”

You let out a soft nervous laugh without looking away from the steaming kettle but you didn’t offer him any sort of response. George cocked his head to the side slightly in acknowledgment that he was listening for your reasoning. You had his undivided attention. Why did it make you nervous?

“You’re just…” you sighed despite the anxious smile that you couldn’t lick away, staring unwaveringly at the stove, “Really sweet and really personable and I don’t want to get too comfortable and too close to where Andy might feel uncomfortable or suspicious. Or Jennifer, for that matter. There are boundaries, you know? I don’t want to overstep.”

“And if there weren’t boundaries? What would be different?”

The kettle whistled and you stalled in answering his question by taking it from the stove and turning off the burner so you could pour the water into the mugs to steep. Finally, you set the empty kettle back down and forced yourself to look at him, “I don’t think it’s appropriate to be talking about this.” 

“You started it.”

“I didn’t say anything.” you countered quickly, covering your bases. 

“It’s not what you’re saying…it’s how you’re saying it.” George said smoothly. You were suddenly very attuned to how warm and rich his voice was and your eyes flicked across his face like they always did when he was around, wanting to look at every inch of him. He continued purposefully, “How you can’t stop staring at me, especially.”

You scoffed and turned away from him with a blush rising to your cheeks, “I’m not staring at you.”

“You were. You often do.” George teased. “I’m not a complete idiot, I know when someone is checking me out.”

“I don’t-” you laughed nervously down to your steaming mugs of tea, your hands falling gently onto the edge of the counter, “I don’t check you out.” 

“Yes, you do.” George laughed just the same. “It’s okay. I don’t mind it. It’s flattering.”

You opened your mouth to reply with some defence but no words came to mind and you shut your mouth with a frustrated little huff and you pressed the heels of your palms against your eyes for a moment. With your cheeks so warm they could keep your tea hot, you almost wanted to leave if it wasn’t for the fact that it was your own kitchen you were both standing in. 

When your hands dropped loudly to your sides, George leaned his hip against the counter and crossed his arms over his chest as he asked in retaliation, “Do you mind when I check you out?”

Offering a disbelieving laugh, you glanced over at him, “You don’t check me out.”

“Why do you say that?” he questioned. 

“Why?” you were taken aback, “Because I dunno. Because why would you?”

“Because you’re beautiful.” George answered. “And I most definitely stare at you…although I must be better at hiding it than you are.”

You kept your eyes on his, eyebrows furrowing for a brief moment, and you let a faint smile prick at your lips as you gave him a faint shake of your head. 

“Can I confess something?” he asked. 

“Sure.”

“The other day I came over here to bring you some banana bread I had baked but…I saw that you were already occupied on the couch.” he gestured haphazardly behind him towards your family room. “And I might have stared at you a little then.”

Your eyes widened and you raised your hands to your cheeks in realization, “Oh my God.”

“I’m really sorry, I should have just left when I first noticed but…” George sighed, “You looked fucking gorgeous when you were touching yourself like that.”

“That’s so embarrassing.” you mumbled despite your smile and the eye contact you kept with him. 

“No, it’s not.” George shrugged, “We’re human…we can do whatever we need to in the privacy of our own homes.”

“With peeping neighbours in our windows.” you teased. 

“Hey, now.” he laughed, reaching out to gently nudge your arm, “Not like I was standing out there with binoculars in one hand and my dick in the other.”

Your smile faltered for a second as if he had completely read your thoughts from that day and how you shamefully fantasized about him as you made yourself cum on your family couch. George’s hand grazed down your arm and his finger linked in the sleeve of your blouse for a brief moment as if he were debating something in his own mind. 

Then, his eyes focused on yours once more and he asked as casually as the weather, “What were you thinking about?”

It was a question that would ultimately change the course of your life depending on how you answered but at the moment, you didn’t think that deeply about it. He was right there and he already confessed that he liked it when he stumbled across you like that, the least he deserved was an honest answer. Not to mention the gorgeous blue of his eyes was so mesmerizing that maybe you were a bit dizzy by him as you breathed out a soft, “You.”

Pin drop silence. 

Unbreakable eye contact. 

And then he was grabbing you by the back of your neck and yanking you towards him for a kiss that burned every inch of your skin. 

Your hands grasped the front of his t-shirt to hold him as close as possible, letting your lips mould sloppily together in some sort of semblance of a kiss that easily progressed into more. Standing at the counter in your kitchen, you grabbed onto each other like you were life preservers and he kissed you with so much passion that you had nearly forgotten what it had been like to be craved so carnally like that. He nearly took the breath from your lungs, bending over you until your back was arched and your body took the shape of his. Your hands tangled in the back of his hair as your lips smacked together wetly, tongues pushing together for a greedy taste of infidelity; although your spouses were the last things on your minds. 

The steeping tea was forgotten about as he guided you backwards blindly across the kitchen and you gently hit the edge of the opposite counter, giving him the chance to grab the backs of your thighs and hoist you up onto it. Right away, your arms and legs were slinging around his body and yanking him closer all without breaking your kiss, sharing hungry moans into each other's mouths. Your fingers tightened in his soft hair but your aggression just pulled a handsome groan from his throat that tasted like heaven against your tongue. 

With your ankles linked behind his back, you used the heels of your feet to pull him closer to the counter as you rested near the edge so the front of his blue jeans were pressed up snugly against yours, getting your fix of that fiery touch after so long, regardless of who it was. Your eyes were shut tightly with greed, taking what you wanted from his lips with your body arching against his. George’s hands on your hips pressed indentations of his fingerprints into your flesh and he held you against him as he grinded against you faintly. 

The sweet moan that fell from your lips had him moving like that again, rutting the front of his jeans right up between your spread legs, creating that friction that satisfied the craving of pleasure that you ached for. You moved with him faintly, grinding against his body in return from your spot on the edge of the kitchen counter until you both were turning more and more desperate from it. 

George broke away from your kiss first and his hands shoved up the bottom of your blouse and lifted it over your head so it could be tossed aimlessly to the floor. You panted heavily to the kitchen as he moved his kisses down your neck and over your breasts that were tucked in your unflattering bra but he didn’t mind one bit. He groaned against your chest as he sank to his knees in front of the counter, “You’re fucking sexy.” 

“Holy shit.” you exhaled, lifting your bum off the countertop when he popped the button on your jeans so he could yank them off you. 

“That’s it.” George licked his lips as he guided your feet back until your heels were tucked on the edge so you were spread open for him, only separated by your underwear. He leaned in close and dusted his nose right up between your legs before his tongue was following, teasing your pussy over your underwear with the faintest of touches that still managed to make you squirm. He stared up at you from his knees, sending you a teasing wink as his fingers linked in the hem of your panties and he started to pull them down too, “I’ve wanted to do this for too fucking long.”

Once they were dropped to the floor too and your feet were back in place where he wanted them, you could barely rush out a reply, “Me too.”

In reality, you hadn’t truly realized you wanted that until you were put in that position but the images that your mind pictured earlier that week certainly might have proved otherwise. 

He touched you like you were a masterpiece, gliding two fingers down between your glistening folds with his lips parted in near awe, watching how your wetness clung to his fingertips greedily. You raked a hand through his hair to guide his face in too and he gladly obeyed, nustling his tongue alongside his fingers with a gorgeous exhale that sent shivers up your spine. The caresses of his tongue were devine and he teased around your clit and down across your pussy in gentle strokes that had your head lolling to the side. 

Being in that position wasn’t new to you - you had a husband after all - but you weren’t aware of how limited your experience might have been until George had you there. His first few touches and licks were expected and you offered him soft hums in appreciation, your teeth sunken into your bottom lip faintly as you watched him between your thighs. But then his large hands were sliding around your thighs and his fingers pressed into your flesh, his wedding ring on his left hand shimmering in the early afternoon sunlight, and he was nuzzling his face deeper with quick laps of his tongue. Your mouth fell open at his insistence and your hand in his hair gripped tighter in surprise. 

“Oh-” you stumbled out faintly. 

George tugged you closer to the edge of the counter as he slurped at your cunt until he was sucking on your clit and your head tossed back with a sharp gasp and your back straightened up. 

“Fuck!” you squeaked.

He hummed against you, blue eyes staring straight up your body to gauge your every reaction as he tongued at your clit in quick strokes. The feeling was intense and you didn’t know what to do with yourself as you gaped dumbly into your kitchen and almost choked over your breath, eyes struggling to stay open, and your hand that wasn’t tangled in his hair ended up slamming flatly against the side of your refrigerator. The upper cabinets caught your head as you let out a loud moan to the ceiling, toes curling over the edge of the countertop, and George only grabbed tighter to your thighs to hold you on his mouth. 

Your hand tightened in his hair although you couldn’t decide if you were pulling him closer or wanting to push him away with how strong the pleasure was that he built within you. You mouthed a silent chant of “fuck, fuck, fuck-” to your kitchen ceiling, gaping dumbly to the light fixture. George took his right hand back just long enough to slip two fingers in his mouth before he was guiding them slowly inside your leaking pussy. 

“Oh God-” you whined tightly. 

“Good girl.” he praised warmly against your cunt as his fingers started to thrust into you shallowly but strongly. “This what you were thinking about?”

“Mhm-” you could only nod cluelessly, barely able to make out what he was saying thanks to the ringing of your ears that was brought on by the pleasure he introduced to your body. 

His tongue flicked faster at your clit and his fingers nudged up against that warm spongy spot just inside you at a perfect consistent pace. The moans that tumbled from your lips were nearly involuntary, coaxed out of you by his generous touch, until you were sure the neighbours could hear - if it weren’t for the fact that your neighbour was the one between your legs at that very moment. All your stresses and anxieties from the prior few short weeks seemed to fall away and the rush of pleasure that tore through your body completely made up for it. 

You felt dizzy and you rested your head back heavily against the upper cabinets behind you with your eyes screwed shut, barely able to choke out a, “Yes-”

George gripped you tighter and kept his pace going, keeping his eyes on your face even if you weren’t looking at him. He analyzed your every flutter of expression to see just how you wanted it, smothering a half smirk at the displeased huff that you let out when he gave his tongue a break to suck on your clit instead. The change up took a second to get used to but you had never been so catered to before so you weren’t one to complain, tightening your fingers in his soft hair while he worked wonders on you. 

Then that build up was forming again, flushing warmth across your skin, and you gaped down to him, “Yeah, yeah, yeah-”

George didn’t move a muscle from exactly where you needed him even as your legs started to quiver from where you were held open. You choked over your next breath as the first wave of pleasure tore down your spine and George gripped onto your thighs to hold you steady on the edge of the kitchen counter as you came on his mouth. His name fell from your lips like it was second nature and it truly felt so much better when he was there to hear it himself. 

He pulled away once you started to get sensitive and he pulled his fingers out of you as he stood up and he rubbed along your messy cunt in lazy strokes. Your hand in his hair slid around the back of his neck and pulled him in for another open mouthed kiss, instantly sharing the taste of you that lingered on his tongue and you sucked on it greedily. George blindly unbuttoned his jeans while he kissed you, barely able to drop them and his underwear to the floor before you were tucking your legs around his waist again and tugging him closer. 

“No one’s ever gone down on me like that before.” you confessed breathily between feverish kisses.

“No?” George chuckled cockily into your mouth, kicking his jeans off his ankles and across your kitchen floor, “Well good thing you have me.”

You offered a sweet “mhm” in reply that was quickly swallowed up by his lips once more. 

He grabbed your thighs again and tugged you closer to the edge of the counter, “This okay?”

“Yeah.” you slung both your arms around his shoulders, leaving one hand in his hair and the other grasping onto the back of his shirt. 

“You want this?” he asked breathily. 

“You have no idea.” 

The two of you shared faint laughter that was swallowed up by a few more sloppy lustful kisses before George was breaking away from you long enough to look down between you so he could angle the head of his cock against your slick cunt. You shuttered slightly in anticipation, clinging onto the back of his shirt as you breathed him in greedily with your nose pressed against his cheek. 

George pushed inside you slowly and once that aching stretch came to spread across your hips, your eyes met closely as your mouth fell open with a soft gasp. His eyes darted across your face before his lips were capturing yours in a sensual kiss and he slid deeper inside you with his hands grabbing at your doughy hips, sinking himself into your body. The wavering breath he let out into your mouth was laced so perfectly with the faintest moan and you felt it right through your body, making your muscles flutter around him. 

“Holy shit.” George slid a hand around the back of neck, his fingers nestled in the roots of your hair, and he pulled your lips harder onto his with an underlying sense of urgency that burned hot over your skin. And, as he did, he started to thrust into you hungrily, sharing in your whimpering moan that blessed your kiss. 

“Fuck.” you choked out, your grip tightening on the fabric of his shirt as if to pull him impossibly closer. 

Your kisses were messy from the quick aggression with which he fucked you on your kitchen counter but you kept at it like you never wanted to stop, unable to get enough of each other and the addictive drug of sin that joined you together. When even what he gave you didn’t feel sufficient enough, you pressed your heels into the flesh of his ass to try and get him to give you more, whining desperately against his tongue-led kisses. He stopped completely, nestled as deep inside you as he could fit, and your head dropped back against the upper cabinets behind you with a warm moan at the glorious fullness he offered you. George grabbed your ass and pulled your body right up against his so he could lift you up off the counter and into his arms. 

You gasped in surprise but clung onto him tightly, trusting him entirely to do whatever he pleased, and your hands splayed across his back over the thin material of his shirt to feel the way his toned back flexed as he held your body weight. He carried you through the adjacent doorway into the dining room and through the spacious archway into the front living room, the afternoon sun streaking in through the large picture window at the front of the house. The carpet was soft beneath his feet and hid his footsteps as he blindly navigated his way to the couch, still taken up by your lips that kissed him like he was more important than air. George sat himself down heavily on the couch with you perched perfectly on his lap, his dick still tucked warmly inside you. 

“Mm, my God.” you withered, driven by humanistic lust, and you were right away starting to bounce on his lap. 

“Holy fuck, you’re sexy.” George groaned, slumping back comfortably on your couch that had been a wedding gift to you and your husband. He stared up at you with dilated blue eyes and he licked his lips at the sight, his large hands on your hips following your eager motions. But despite the obvious intent you held, he still reminded you politely, “You tell me if it’s too much.”

“It’s not.” you insisted strongly, grounding your hands flat against his chest so he was held down on the couch and you had the leverage to ride him harder. You had wanted that for what felt like weeks now and even though you had initially wanted it from your husband, you couldn’t be completely blamed for finding it elsewhere. 

“Oh my God, look at you.” he breathed in near awe, “You want it so bad.” 

You couldn’t bite back the sly smile that pricked at the corner of your mouth even if you scrunched your eyes shut and tilted your head back in some effort to keep him from seeing the effect he had on you. Your skin clapped lewly against his thighs with every bounce, tainting your marital home each and every time. The feeling of his hand around your throat startled you slightly. 

“This okay?” he asked. 

“Fuck, yeah.” you stumbled out. 

That wasn’t new either and you had your fair share of more kinky interactions with your husband before he was your husband and before parental responsibilities and careers started to diminish the passion. It had been far too long. 

“Harder.” you ordered. 

George’s hand squeezed your throat a little tighter, “Better?”

“Mhm.” you withered, still messily bouncing on his lap. 

“What do you say?” 

His demand took you by surprise but it was invigorating and you looked down at him and his handsome lust filled expression, offering him an angelic, “Thank you.” 

“Thank you, sir.” he corrected you smoothly. 

You nearly choked over your breath and the obvious reaction to that simple demand had Georges smirking proudly under you as you tried to keep riding him on your couch. 

His hand tightened around your neck a little more, ordering you strongly, although his voice could never get rid of the undertones of gentleness, “Say it.” 

“Thank you, sir.” you exhaled. 

“Good girl. You’re doing such a good fucking job.” 

“You feel so fucking good inside me.” you whimpered. “I don’t wanna stop.” 

“Don’t. Keep going until you make yourself cum.”

A soft chuckle left your lips as you confessed, “I can’t cum like this.”

“No?” George tugged at your neck to urge you down on top of him so you were chest to chest and he could kiss you. 

You took that opportunity to rut yourself against him greedily, rocking your hips back and forth on his lap with your clit rubbing faintly against his pelvis just enough to get a little huff out of you against his lips. George let go of your throat to take two handfuls of your ass instead and he guided you into stronger motions against his body, keeping you on his cock even as you used his body to stimulate your aching clit. Your fingers fisted the front of his shirt tightly, moaning into his mouth while his tongue pushed insistently against yours until you were falling breathless. 

When he slid his hands up your back, you tried to keep yourself going the way he had started for you but it wasn’t the same. Before you could beg for him to help you again, he was swallowing you up in his arms and smoothly sliding one of his legs under him so he could flip you over and drop you both lengthwise across the living room couch with him rightfully on top of you. 

“Fuck.” you squeaked, throwing your arms around his shoulders just as he started thrusting into you roughly, forcing your head back against the arm of the couch with a choked, “Sh-Shit!” 

“Better?” George taunted against your cheek.

“Yes, sir.” you whimpered. 

His chuckle was low and warm and your toes curled at the sound, legs wrapping around his waist to keep him close. But he would never dream of stopping, not when he had you where he had dreamt of having you for as long as you had imagined the same about him. 

What had started as a somewhat cautious rendezvous had quickly moulded into a carnally lustful hookup, entirely trusting of each other, and he wasn’t holding back as he fucked you on your couch harder than you had been in a while. You couldn’t even manage to form words as you stared up at him above you with your mouth agape and your eyebrows furrowed with intense pleasure, stupid little moans tumbling freely from your throat as language abandoned you. His icy stare was steamy hot and you refused to look away for even a second, raking your nails across the back of his t-shirt until the fabric was definitely being creased and wrinkled. 

“Want me to make you cum, sweetheart?” 

His voice was ethereal and you could have finished from that sentence alone, the pet name causing your swollen cunt to tighten around him for a moment. 

“Use your words.” George teased. 

“Please,” you forced out, “sir.” 

“Can you cum like this?” he asked softly. 

You nodded quickly, already feeling the seeds of an impending orgasm blossoming inside you, “Yeah.” 

“Yeah?” George chuckled, nudging his knees across the floral couch cushion to be a bit closer to you, keeping his thrusts so perfectly deep, and when he sat back from you just enough to get his hand around your throat again, he was at the perfect angle to hit your g-spot dead on. When you took in a sharp breath at the quick rising pleasure from his minor adjustment, he smirked down at you, “You needed it that bad, huh? Already gonna cum for me?” 

“Yes, sir.” you repeated dumbly up to him, swimming in a euphoric haze, “Please don’t stop.” 

“No way, baby.” he promised, keeping your unwavering eye contact, “Wanna feel you cum all over my fucking cock.” 

“Please.” you breathed, face scrunching up from the intense sensations. “Please-“

George was on the same wavelength as he was blessed with the glorious feeling of your body, already feeling himself falling into his own rising pleasure. His hand that wasn’t taken to your throat was gripping the arm of the couch beside your head and with every thrust, his hair was falling farther over his forehead on beautiful messy waves. You wanted to kiss him again but you wanted him to make you cum more, so you didn’t dare move him from his positioning, taking the view gladly instead as your attention was all on him and your fingers stayed locked around the fabric of his shirt. 

“Fuck, that’s a good girl, I can feel you tightening up already.” George spoke down to you, his voice so rich and heavenly you swore it made you dizzy. 

“I’m gonna cum.” you whimpered loudly, head lifting from the arm of the couch so you could peer down your body and watch how he fucked you, the sight of his dick disappearing inside you before pulling back out almost all the way covered in your glistening wetness in rapid succession only making your impending orgasm feel stronger and stronger. You were almost sure you were going to rip his shirt right off him as you squeaked out, “Fuck, fuck fuck, right there, right there-“ 

“Uh huh?” George’s jaw clenched as he tried to hold himself back for the sake of you as the priority. You had to finish first. 

The moment that the first wave of pleasure hit you, your entire body shuttered and your head tossed back against the arm of the couch with a silent gape to the ceiling, eyes screwed shut. Then it was all let out with the most beautiful trembling moan George had ever heard and you filled your silent house with the sounds of your euphoria and the praise of his name, painting the walls in sin. You hadn’t cum that hard in a while to the point where you almost blacked out from the strength of it and your body wrapped itself around George to yank him down on top of you for something to hold onto. 

That just made it even more impossible for him to stop as he kept fucking you right through it, groaning loudly against your cheek as he fought against your vice-like grip around his aching cock. He was getting sloppy with it, losing himself in the warm wet heaven of your pussy and the lewd sound it filled the living room with. Your ankles linked behind his back and pulled him in deeper, gasping and whimpering in sensitivity that you pushed aside to bask in the glorious and reliving pleasure he brought you. 

“I…” George choked out, dipping his face into your neck as you held each other tightly, “I’m gonna fucking cum.” 

“Gimme it.” you pleaded. “Please, sir.” 

Forward thinking was not your priority in that moment as all you craved was for him to claim you completely, filthily, beautifully. For all you cared, this could have just been one perfectly intense dream and you wanted to make the absolute most of it. 

With a few more thrusts, George was shoving hard into you once more and as his dick throbbed inside you, he came strongly, spurting thickly as deep as he could reach. Your mouth fell open at the feeling and one hand flew to his hair to tangle in the soft strands and hold his face in your neck as he moaned heavenly against your flushed skin. He ground into you greedily, giving you everything he had and it made your mouth water, your head tilting back to stare up at the living room ceiling with a mouthed ‘oh my God’. 

“Fuck.” George huffed, gently allowing his body weight to rest on top of you completely. 

You welcomed him gladly and enveloped him in your embrace and even kissed his head and his faint breathy chuckle at your action had you smiling. The pleasure hormones swirled around your mind and body and before they could fade away, George was sliding his hand over your cheek and guiding your lips to his for a slow, sensual, breathless kiss. 

The two of you made out like that on the couch for a few minutes, what was once such a rush now dimmed down to lazy yet purely passionate kisses in the silence of your marital home. He was still tucked inside you and feeling his body so close with yours was addicting. Your fingers scratched through the back of his hair and he broke your kiss to rest his head against your collarbones. 

“I needed that so fucking bad, oh my God.” George sighed. 

“Me too.” you confessed lightly. 

“It’s been way too long.”

“Tell me about it.”

There was a moment of silence as the reality of your situation settled on your minds. 

“We really did that.” you exhaled. 

“Yeah.” George sighed. 

“Do you regret it?” 

George lifted his head from your shoulder to look at you properly, “Do you?”

“I asked you first.”

A faint smile pricked at the corner of his mouth and he answered with a soft, “No.”

You trailed your hand out of his hair and down the side of his neck to guide him in for a chasté kiss, “Me neither.” 

George gave you one more kiss before he was carefully sitting back from you, “Our tea is probably cold.”

You giggled softly, “Probably.” 

“Want me to get you your clothes?”

“Please.” 

He carefully pulled out and you let your hand take his place, staying on your back to keep from leaking out onto the couch, and he disappeared back into the kitchen. For the few seconds he was gone, you stared wide-eyed out the front window to the tree-lined street, the heavy side of reality settling onto your consciousness. If you had felt guilty about your thoughts the last weeks, then this was unimaginable. You committed arguably the ultimate sin in marriage - how would you ever come back from this? 

“Here you go.”

George held out your underwear to you first and you glanced up at him - now fully dressed himself - and you took them from him with a soft thanks. He helped you up from the couch and you hurried to shimmy your clothes on while he watched you. 

“This should be a one time thing, right?” you said after a moment. 

“Yeah, probably.” George sighed. 

“And…just between us?” 

“Of course.” he agreed quickly. “We don’t want to…mess everything up.”

“Yeah.” you smiled faintly, thankful that he understood. 

You could see him hesitate for a moment before he was taking your hand and leaning in to kiss you again. Despite the events that had just happened, the move made you a little shy and you pulled away a second later with a bashful smile to the ground. His thumb brushed over your skin lazily and as you stood together in your living room face to face in the afternoon sun, you felt drawn into him to steal another gentle kiss from his plush lips. Without sharing a word or any additional touch, you kissed softly, innocently, for a few long seconds before breaking away from each other again. You licked your lips that tasted like him and he noticed with a fond smile. 

“The school bus should be here soon.” he said. 

“Mhm.” you hummed, only half paying attention as your gaze was transfixed by his swollen lips. 

“We can walk together if you want.” 

“Mhm.” 

There was another momentary silence between you and George’s faint bite to his bottom lip had your eyebrows naturally peaking for a split second. He could read your face like it was the front page of the morning paper. 

“This isn’t going to be a one time thing, is it?”

You shook your head and took the half step closer to him as you leaned in for another tender kiss. 

He was everywhere in your house now. Everywhere you looked it was tainted with George and you were worried that it showed all over your face. The kitchen...the living room…everywhere you looked. That very same night you stood in the kitchen preparing dinner while Richard watched TV in the family room and you tried not to think about the memories that the counter behind you held or pay attention to the constant leak that dampened your panties under your jeans. Andrew would be home in no time and you had only that long to compose yourself enough to face him like nothing was wrong. 

The phone on the kitchen wall rang loudly, startling you dramatically and your head whipped around to it. You set the knife down on the cutting board and wiped your hands on your apron as you made your way over to it. Without thinking twice, you answered it with a casual, “Hello?”

“Hey, my love. It’s me.”

Your grip tightened on the receiver at your husband’s voice and you cleared your throat before answering, “Hi, Andy. What’s going on?”

“I just heard news that the boss wants me to come out for dinner with a potential client tonight so I won’t be home until a bit later. Nothing crazy but we’re hoping to get them onboard with this pitch and apparently bottomless wine is the way to do it.” his soft chuckle acted as a way to cover up his disappointment - you knew that well after your few years together. 

“Oh. Okay.” you looked to the ground, silently grateful you wouldn’t have to face him until later. 

“I’m really sorry, sugar.” Andrew said softly through the phone, “I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”

“No, no. That’s okay. Do what you gotta do.” you pulled the most chipper voice you could. 

“I’ll make you proud.”

You slouched your shoulder against the wall, “You always do, Andy.” 

“Tell Ritchie I say hello and I love him. I won’t be back before his bedtime.” 

“Of course. Be safe, okay?”

“I will. I love you.”

You nibbled your bottom lip for a half second before answering through the guilt that burned within you, “I love you too, honey.” 

It was almost 11pm when you heard the front door open. Richard had long been put to bed - although not without asking for Andrew a half dozen times and trying to stall bedtime so he could see him before he slept - and even you had retired to bed yourself. With a book in hand, you were in your nightgown on your side of the bed in the warm light of your bedside lamp, trying to look as nonchalant as possible for when your husband would return home. He didn’t need to know a single thing and especially not how often you had been thinking of how George’s night was going since you had parted that afternoon. 

Each quiet footstep on the stairs had your heart racing but you had all evening to calm yourself so you had belief that you were definitely able to play it cool. So, when the bedroom door opened and Andrew stepped inside in his black work slacks and pale blue button up, you offered him a loving smile. He closed the door behind him again so as to not wake your son and it was then that you noticed the small bouquet of flowers in his hand. Your smile faltered for a moment, feeling an uncomfortable weight settling in your chest. 

Andrew just kept his warm grin and he walked over to your bedside to lean down to greet you with a kiss and the flowers, “Happy anniversary, sugar.” 

You didn’t know what to say for a moment, using all your willpower to keep the smile on your face despite the fact that you completely forgot it had been your wedding anniversary of all days. But you closed your book and set it on your bedside table, “Aw, thank you, my love.”

“I’m really sorry I missed most of the day.” Andrew said, leaning down to kiss your cheek.

“That’s okay.” you brushed it off easily since you did much worse that day, “You’re here now.”

“Finally.” Andrew took the flowers across the room and set them on the dresser still in their cellophane so he could get ready for bed. “And it’s Friday, thank God.”

You watched him loosen his tie and then slide it off from around his neck and he dropped it on the dresser before starting to unbutton his shirt. 

You tried to keep casual conversation, “How was the dinner?”

“It went really well actually.” Andrew said, “Got them on board and they will be signed with us on Monday.” 

“That’s great! Although I didn’t have any doubts; you’re their best guy anyway.” 

“You flatter me,” Andrew glanced over at you with a sweet smile as he walked across the room and draped his shirt over the back of the armchair. He then unbuckled his belt before it, too, was joining the forming pile on the chair and he dropped his slacks, “But now I don’t want to think about work because it’s now the weekend and it’s our anniversary and all my attention is yours. I told you I’d make today up to you.”

“That’s okay.” you assured him softly. “I’m not upset.” 

“I am.” he protested gently and your eyes followed him back across the room and around to his side of the bed. He pushed back the sheets and climbed in beside you in only his underwear, telling you honestly, “I’ve felt so badly saying no to you so much the last little while.”

“It’s really okay, honey.” you promised, lolling your head to the side to look at him. 

“Nope, not accepting that.” he tapped your nose, “I can tell I was doing nothing but disappointing you and I don’t like doing that. Not that we need an excuse but I think our anniversary is the best time to get back at it, you reckon?” 

You didn’t realize how hard you were biting your bottom lip until the pad of his thumb gently swiped over it to get you to let go and then he slid his hand around the side of your face and guided you in for a soft kiss. You tried to push the guilty thoughts to the back of your mind and focus on your kind-hearted husband at your side who, even after an insanely long work day, still wanted to give you what you wanted. There was no doubt in your mind that you were still in love with him, but you kept your new secret locked away in order to prevent hurting the man you loved. 

Andrew was obviously clueless to your internal affairs and his kisses were just as passionate as ever, still managing to erupt butterflies in your stomach with every lingering lock of your lips. Your fingers wrapped around his wrist of the hand that cradled your face and the fact that he didn’t have an ounce of suspicion from the taste of your lips that had kissed another man made you sure that you could have your cake and eat it too. It was almost thrilling. 

Your husband broke your kiss and reached under the sheets to tug at the hem of your nightgown, “Wanna take this off for me?” 

You gladly pulled it over your head and tossed it to the carpeted floor beside the bed and he moved in again to kiss your neck while his hand trailed down your naked body and traced the shape of your breasts and the peak of one of your nipples. He definitely knew where to touch you and that was never a question, proven by the way your eyes fluttered shut when his lips grazed just the right spot under your ear and his tongue against your skin pulled shivers down your spine. 

You took the initiative to shuffle yourself on the mattress so you could lay yourself down properly against your pillow and Andrew was following after you gladly, laying half on top of you with his forearm holding him up at your side. Your hands guided his lips back to yours and you shared deepening kisses in the warmth of your shared bedroom. With your fingers tangled in the back of his short brown hair, you shared the responsibility of guiding your kisses until his tongue was nudging against yours. Opening up for him was easy but there was that tiny worry in the back of your mind wondering if somehow he could tell who else you had been kissing in his absence. 

In reality, Andrew was perfectly clueless, and he trailed his hand down your bare body and under the sheets and right over the front of your panties. You hummed pleasantly into his kiss and spread your legs a little more for him, urging his hand to rub strongly across your clothed pussy. After a few seconds, he was pulling away from your lips with a faint smile at the corner of his mouth and you met his gaze with your teeth sinking into your bottom lip.

“Oh my God,” Andrew chuckled breathily, his hand still helping itself between your legs, “You’re so wet.”

You could only offer him a soft giggle that he kissed away greedily. 

“I’ve kept you waiting that long, hm?” he teased against your mouth. 

You could only manage a faint nod into his kisses.

He didn’t need to know that most of that wetness he was feeling was thanks to your neighbour. 

Andrew pulled away from your lips for a moment so he could focus on shoving down your underwear under the blankets and you blindly helped to kick them off to get lost under the sheets. Once his fingers found your cunt again, you were pulling his lips back on yours by the back of his neck, silently praying he couldn’t feel the remnants of George’s cum still leaking out of you. But he was blissfully unaware as he touched you like that, fingers rubbing at your clit and then sliding between your glistening folds and back up, his lips pulling hungry kisses from your own. 

When he finally pulled away from your lips, you followed his lead to hold up the sheets to let him shuffle himself underneath them, sharing soft laughter at the ungraceful nature of it as he got himself between your legs. You let the bed sheets fall overtop of him and you adjusted your pillow under your head with a nervous lick to your lips as you stared up at the ceiling. You were sure there was no way he could know - it had been all afternoon and evening after all - but a part of you couldn’t help but feel nervous. 

The first touch of his tongue against your pussy had your eyelids fluttering and your breath shuttering in your chest. He nudged your legs open wider and his hands wrapped around your thighs, holding you open for his mouth and the gentle caresses of his tongue. Your eyes bore into the ceiling, focusing on the touches of your husband beneath your bedsheets, shamefully thinking back to that afternoon when George had you up on your kitchen counter and ate your pussy like it was his last meal. Andrew’s lazy and gentle strokes weren’t bad, just…different. Familiar. Expected. 

He moved as if he were cleaning you up rather than aiming to make you messier and although it felt good, it still fell short. You shut your eyes and tried to focus on it a little more, offering a soft hum to the dimly lit bedroom as your fingers grasped the pillow you were lying on. You exhaled to the ceiling, trying to relax yourself into the mattress without thinking too hard about the fact that your husband was pretty much eating another man’s cum out of you at that very moment. 

After only a few more seconds, Andrew pressed a sloppy wet kiss to your clit and then started to move back. Eyes snapping open, you set your hand on top of his head over the sheets, holding him in place as you requested quietly, “Can you put your fingers in me too?”

“Sure.” he chuckled faintly, words muffled by the sheets and duvet. 

You felt him glide his fingers across your slick pussy and then he was sinking two inside you slowly, right down to the knuckle. His tongue followed again and he lapped at your clit while his fingers pushed strongly inside you all the way and back out in slow thrusts. 

“Yeah,” you breathed, keeping your hand on the back of his head, “Faster.”

He followed your demand with fingers and tongue, ravishing you a little faster until his jaw was starting to ache and his hand was cramping up from those quick thrusts. Andrew hummed flatly against you and slowed himself down after a few seconds and before he could stop completely, you were squirming slightly underneath him. 

“Can you only go, like, halfway with your fingers?” you requested quietly. 

There was a pause and then movement as he shuffled his way out of the sheets to let them fall to the end of the bed, exposing your naked body to the air conditioned bedroom. He caressed your hip gently with a quiet, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” you replied almost too fast, “Why?” 

“It’s just…you’ve never had to tell me what to do before. I always usually make you cum.”

“I know, I know.” you assured him quickly, wracking your brain for an excuse, “Was just wanting to try new things.”

Andrew smiled faintly at you and nodded, “Okay.”

You returned his soft smile and he leaned down to kiss your lips, once, twice, and a third time before he was sitting back on his knees and shuffling out of his underwear. You tried to hide your disappointment that he wasn’t going to go down on you some more behind a tightlipped smile as he met your gaze and pulled the sheets up around you both again. Habitually, your legs went around his thighs as he situated himself on top of you and his lips locked with yours again in slow sensual kisses, tangling together as husband and wife in your shared bed like how it was supposed to be. 

“Ready?” he asked softly. 

“Mhm.” you slid your hands up his back and scratched your fingers across his shoulder blades lightly as he got himself situated. 

The head of his cock nudged against your dripping pussy and your muscles fluttered at the sensation, naturally waiting for him to finally push inside you. And, when he did, his eyes stayed focused on yours without breaking away for even a second, watching your expression as he filled you completely. Your hands rested on his back as you stared right back at his face, taking in his dark and handsome features that you loved so dearly, and yet part of you was already missing George’s blue eyed gaze. 

The flicker of a guilty wince across your expression was covered with ease by the first thrust from your husband as he started to make love to you properly. He kissed your lips sweetly, sharing single little fleeting kisses and soft breaths as you tangled under the sheets together. His thrusts were slow and deep and so incredibly loving, something that had been so comforting over the recent few years together. Something you didn’t realize mattered much. Not until George came over that afternoon and shook your very knowledge of reality and pleasure to its core.

Andrew broke away from your kiss to tuck his face into your neck and your arms wrapped entirely around his back to hold him on top of you, whimpering softly against his shoulder as he took you over like that. Your eyes scrunched shut and you desperately tried to stay in the moment, clinging onto your husband’s beautiful caramel skin and the scent of his office that lingered on him; copy ink and paper. His warm breaths fell against your neck in gentle pants in time with his precise thrusts, your bed squeaking faintly beneath you. 

But your mind was straying again, drifting to the house next door and the man who had his way with you that afternoon; the one who somehow made you see stars for the first time in years. That used to be you and Andrew or so you recalled as the memories faded with time, but now it was all so fresh with George and you were drunk on the newfound adrenaline of it all. You tried to hush your mind from begging you to do it again and again and again with the man who had his own wife and his own family and who wasn’t legally bound to you in any way. 

Just because you couldn’t have him didn’t mean you couldn’t think of him. With your eyes closed tightly and your husband’s face still tucked warmly in your neck as he made love to you gently into your bed, you shamelessly imagined him to be George instead. Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip and your mind swirled with memories from that afternoon and the dirty words that your neighbour spoke to you. You imagined him saying such things to you now, holding you down on your bed, fucking you like you never knew you needed. 

As you clung onto your husband, your lips formed the words without thought, mouthing them silently to the ceiling, “Yes, sir.”

George took up your mind until your thoughts were so vivid that you swore you could smell him right there with you, taking the place of your husband. Even Andrew’s soft sounds were that of George and you were buzzing off the fresh memory that burned within you, completely encapsulated by the man that wasn’t yours. You could do nothing else but picture him on top of you instead, mouthing his name to your bedroom ceiling over and over as if speaking to him in your mind. 

“That’s it.”

The breathy faint voice that ghosted across your ear tore you from the strength of your imagination but the power that George still held over you kept you going just that little bit longer. 

“Holy shit, you’re gonna cum already?” Andrew chuckled against your cheek, “I can fucking feel it.” 

“Shh.” you pulled his face back into your neck, playing it off effortlessly that you were too close for casual conversation. That wasn’t entirely a lie because the words that George spoke to you in your memory were certainly bringing you closer by the second, urging your muscles to tighten up around your husband’s dick. 

Andrew kept his pace going even as your nails pressed into the muscles of his back and your body fell into pleasure beneath his. Your orgasm certainly wasn’t as strong as the two you had that afternoon but it was still real and it still felt good, regardless of the slight disappointment that filled your guilty conscience. 

“Yes.” you squeaked out, tangling your hand in the back of his hair to grip tightly to his soft brunette roots, “Fuck-”

“Oh my God.” Andrew groaned from over top of you, shifting away from you a little to get a better angle with his hands pressed onto the pillow on either side of your head.

Panting softly underneath him, your hands slid down to his biceps and you held onto him as he thrusted into you a little faster, those big brown eyes staring right into your distracted gaze. He was still as beautiful as ever to you and the expression of pleasure that spread across his face was just as breathtaking as the first night you shared together six years earlier. Only seconds later, he was pulling out of you and coming right across your abdomen with the added help of his own hand, offering quiet moans to your bedroom walls as he finished himself off. You watched him closely, tearing your eyes away from his face to glance down between you under the sheets to get a glimpse at the mess he made across your flushed skin. 

“Shit.” he huffed and carefully shifted off of you. 

You took the sheets from him to hold them up and out of the way as he rolled over to grab a few tissues from the bedside table. He helped to clean you up like the gentleman he was and then you let the blankets fall gracefully over the both of you as he leaned in for a few breathless kisses. 

“How was that?” he asked teasingly. 

You bit back your smile, “Good.”

“Good?” he laughed lightly, feigning offence, “Just good, huh?”

“You know what I mean.” you swatted his chest playfully. 

Andrew tossed the sheets back and swung his legs off the bed, “I’m gonna throw this out. Did you want water or anything?”

“I’m okay.” 

He leaned back down towards you for one more kiss, “Okay. Be right back.”

You tucked the sheets up to your chin as you watched him stand up and shuffle his underwear back on before he was patting across the carpeted floor to the ensuite bathroom. When he was out of view, your eyes drifted to the flowers still resting on the dresser across the room and you nibbled at your bottom lip to try and keep the guilt at bay. Then, you looked straight up at the ceiling instead, trying to settle the rapid beating of your heart over the realization that you had to think of another man apart from your husband to get off. That had never happened before. 

Andrew’s gentle humming came from the bathroom as he brushed his teeth and finished getting ready for bed and you tried to let the familiarity of his voice soothe you but it didn’t do much. Instead, you just kept wondering what George sounded like when he sang or what music he played when he baked or if he was thinking of you as much as you were thinking of him. How ridiculous. How absolutely teenage of you. 

“Alright,” Andrew emerged from the bathroom and joined you in bed once more, “all set.”

You reached over to your bedside table to turn off your lamp before laying beside him again, habitually wrapping yourself up under his arm. He kissed your head and sighed as he settled, holding you close under your shared sheets. 

“I love you.” he said through the dark. 

You rested your cheek against his shoulder, “I love you too.”

Andrew was drifting quickly after a long day but you were still wide awake, staring blankly across the room to the front windows and their shut curtains. You aimlessly trailed your fingertips over your husband’s chest and the faint dusting of chest hair that grew down between his pecs, wondering to yourself that if Andrew still felt like home to you, why did your mind crave to be elsewhere. Mostly, you tried not to think of George.

You really tried. 

PART TWO

My Very Extensive Tag List™:

@wetforwolff

[butterflydm]

I was skimming the books for fic-research reasons and just had to be baffled all over again at how the Seanchan invasion gets treated CoT-onward. The Kin were the spine of the Wise Women of Ebou Dar, who are, like THE people who are respected by everyone in the city. They all had to try to flee the area because of the Seanchan and any who didn't successfully flee but were Kin (and thus could channel) would have been instantly enslaved by the Seanchan. And yet we have that fucking weirdness in Mat's (fucking weird overall) first chapter in A Memory of Light where the Ebou Dari people are all "lol, why would a brutal invasion bother us in the slightest; we're too super-casual for an invasion to bother us".

I mean, that's all tied into the logistics problems that plagued all things Seanchan-related in the later books (they have infinite soldiers and infinite food & supplies and generally don't have to abide by the economics & logistics that Rand's side is required to follow) but it just really stood out to me because I was reading about how respected the Wise Women are (even in places like the Rahad) -- but the Seanchan's coming would have completely gutted them as a society and that should have an impact on how the Ebou Dari feel about the Seanchan. And it just ties into my overall feeling that Jordan stopped treating the Seanchan realistically starting in CoT and then Sanderson continued the trend when he took over the writing of the books.

But, yeah, one of the big things that I hope for from the prime show is that the Seanchan get treated with narrative consistency and we don't get an abrupt 180 on how the narrative treats them at the two-thirds point. Because what the Ebou Dari should be feeling (and what they were feeling in Winter's Heart!) is a lot of fear and paranoia and the desire to rebel, because the Seanchan are Always Watching and will Randomly Steal and Enslave People for reasons that the non-Seanchan people are not going to understand!

I am really curious about how much Seanchan Presence we're going to have in s3, because s2 made some bold choices in where it went with the Seanchan storyline and I am intensely curious about what kind of follow-up we'll have in s3. I've said a lot in the past that Tuon needs to be introduced sooner than she was in the books (Jordan waited way too late to introduce her! He should also have introduced her while she was still in Seanchan, imo, so that we actually could have seen her interacting with the rest of the Imperial family so that we would have a baseline of Seanchan Imperial Behavior to potentially contrast her against later -- but Tuon feels like another case where Jordan valued the surprise of the wham! line over giving a lot of detail and background) and I would absolutely be a fan of her being introduced in s3.

[stylesispunk]

"Last Christmas"

No outbreak! Joel Miller x f! Reader

Summary: Last year Joel and you crossed your own boundaries leaving a lasting impact on both of you. Now, that you're back in the city what would happen between you both when all the odds aren't in your favor?

Warnings: Age gap (Joel is 42 and reader 27) Christmas angst, emotional cheating in the slight.

Word count: 7k>> long one.

a/n: Hi! In the beginning, I wanted to write a fic about the "Last Christmas" song by Wham! but I ended up writing something different. I kept the name though. In this story, Joel doesn't have Sarah, so he is a lonely man. Part II may be in the works depending on how this one performs. Reblogs and comments are always appreciated, I hope you enjoy this, happy reading💌

Part ii

masterlist

dividers by @/saradika

A year ago, you had left Austin, leaving no trace behind you, not even footprints for those who wanted to remember you. You become a gosht for some, for others a persistent torment.

No letters.

No souvenirs.

No goodbyes.

You just simply left behind every trace that reminded you of Joel. From a chilly winter night, following the gathering of your family’s Christmas Eve party, that used to have people together, when you found yourself waking up under the sheets of your father neighbor’s, and friend's bed.

You couldn’t lie and say there wasn’t anything between you two. Your father had introduced you both at a dinner party for your mother’s birthday. From that moment your paths crossed in an incandescent glow, painting the gray skies in a multicolor universe you hadn’t had the chance to meet before.

And it was that night, at the Christmas Eve party, when you met sin. The exchange of gazes was a secret in a crowded room, with nobody getting the idea about you and him. At that moment, his eyes were on you and he made everyone disappear, building up an electric friction between you. A spark, a connection that transcended the glow of the twinkling lights and laughs around. 

He spoke a language that only you were able to understand. 

All the months of passing back and forth, blossomed into a romantic interaction that made you understand Joel was just not a passing spark; he stroked the flame of your starved heart and you refused to let it be extinguished. 

But when you both disappeared that night, breaking the rules of your illicit affair under the sheets of his bed, you lost him.

When the morning came, you couldn’t face the consequences of what had happened, nor was he staring out the window instead of your face, detached and distant. The gravity followed a blind faith and left you both in broken pieces with neither of daring to face the aftermath of your promise being broken. 

Nothing beyond these kisses can happen between us. He said one day.

His voice, the way he said it still echoed in your mind. And you both were crazy to think that something between you both could work when the world around you was against it. 

And he knew you would eventually leave this town to follow your dreams, but he didn’t know you would do it too soon. 

Two days after no communication, you left him behind.

Without a warning, without a last chance to look at your face or to kiss your lips. You just simply vanished from his touch. 

You disappeared with his love as a forbidden secret. 

You never were able to break a heart until you broke his.

Now, as Christmas approached once again, you found yourself back in your hometown, nestled within the protection of the walls of your parents. The air was thick with the essence of the spirits you hid in the closet before leaving this town behind, the same now were plotting to escape and ruin your stay in this place you used to call home. 

As you entered the house, the scent of holiday pastries and the picture of mixed decorations enveloped you. Your mother with joy, welcomed you with open arms. Your father, a man of few words, gave you a nod, acknowledging your return.

Sitting in the living room, surrounded by the ghosts of your past, your mother couldn't help but sense the heaviness that lingered in your eyes. She looked at you with a mother's intuition, sensing that there was more to your return than a simple visit. 

"What's on your mind, dear?" she asked gently, her eyes filled with both curiosity and concern.

Your mother studied you for a moment, her gaze penetrating through the layers of your facade. She could sense the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air, but she chose not to press further, respecting the boundaries you set.

"If you ever want to talk, remember that I'm here," she said, her voice carrying the comfort of maternal understanding.

“Yes, you can start by explaining why you left the city without a warning” your father spoke, a tint of sadness and anger in his words. 

You took a deep breath, grappling with the internal turmoil that had led you to this moment. The ghosts of your past, once neatly tucked away, seemed to stir, threatening to break free from their confines.

"It's complicated, Dad," you began, the words hesitant but genuine. "I... I needed to leave. There were things I couldn't face, mistakes I made that I needed to distance myself from."

He sighed, a mixture of understanding and frustration in his eyes. "We all make mistakes, but leaving without a word, without letting us know if you were safe, that hurt, Honey. We're your family."

The weight of your actions settled in, and you nodded, the guilt evident in your expression. "I know, Dad. I should have handled it differently. But at that time, I couldn't see any other way."

Your mother reached out, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. "We just want to understand, dear. It's been hard for us”

“But I’m here now, and New York has treated me well” 

Your mother offered a gentle smile, relieved to have you back within the folds of the family. "We're glad you're here, sweetheart. New York is a big city, and we were worried about you navigating it alone."

You took a moment to reflect on your time in New York, appreciating the opportunities and challenges the city had presented. "It's been a journey, for sure. The city is fast-paced, and there's always something happening. But I've been learning a lot and, overall, things have been treating me well."

Your father's stern expression softened as he listened to your words. "Just remember, we're here for you, no matter where life takes you. Just because you’re an adult doesn’t mean you have to face everything alone."

The warmth in your mother's touch and the understanding in your father's words brought a sense of comfort, a reassurance that, despite the complexities of the past, your family remained a big support. 

“Your brother and sister are arriving soon, why don’t you go to rest a bit?” your mom said. 

You nodded, appreciative of the suggestion. "Yeah, maybe a short rest would do me good. It's been a long journey."

Your mother gave you a tender smile, her eyes filled with maternal concern. "Take your time, dear. We're just happy to have you home."

As you made your way to the guest room, you couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions. The familiar surroundings of your childhood home embraced you like a comforting blanket, and the echoes of laughter from the living room reminded you of the shared joy of family.

Closing the door to the guest room, you let out a sigh, allowing the weight of the past to settle for a moment. The bed, adorned with a quilt your mother had made years ago, seemed to invite you into its embrace.

As you lay down, the memories of New York and the complexities you left behind in Austin played like a film reel in your mind. The warmth of your mother's touch and the understanding in your father's words provided a glimmer of solace, a reminder that, despite the unspoken secrets, the bonds of family remained resilient.

And you fell asleep thinking about how after a year, only a door separated you from Joel now. 

A few hours later, you were gently stirred from your sleep by the soft voice of your niece. The warm sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a golden glow on the room announcing the darkness of the night was arriving.

"Aunt! Aunt!" she exclaimed; her excitement palpable.

You blinked, adjusting to the daylight, and smiled at the sight of your enthusiastic niece. "Hey there, little one. What's going on?"

With uncontainable joy, she announced, "Mom and Dad are here! Uncle is here too!"

Your grogginess melted away as you realized what those words meant. Your family has reunited together again, a moment you had been looking forward to since you moved to another a year ago.

With your energy back, you joined your nice as she led the way to the living room, where the air was already buzzing with the chatter and laughter of your siblings and brother-in-law. Once your figure emerged in the room, your older sister Emma and big brother Andy greeted you with big smiles on their faces.

"Look who's finally awake!" your Emma exclaimed, pulling you into a tight embrace.

Andy, with his characteristic humor, added, "Thought you were going to sleep through the whole reunion." He spoke, going for a hug as your sister pulled away “I’ve been missing you so much big baby” 

"I've been missing you too, big brother," you replied, returning his hug.  All the sadness bubbling inside you melted away with the warmth of the family reunion. 

Your niece, still bubbling with excitement, chimed in, "My aunt was sleeping like a bear, but I woke her up!"

Your brother-in-law, joining the playful banter, teased, "Sleeping beauty finally awakens."

“Hi there Troy” you smiled at him, hugging him. 

"Hi, you," Troy replied, returning the hug with a friendly pat on the back. The room echoed with the easy banter and laughter that characterized the unique dynamics of your family.

As you settled into the reunion, you all sat around the table eating dinner your mom and dad had cooked for this moment. The atmosphere of the night went back and forth from playful conversation to the serious tone of the real adult life you all were living.  Emma, always worried about you, asked you about your life in New York and the adventures you have lived since you left Austin. 

"It's been a journey," you shared a reflective note in your voice. "New York is a world of its own, but I've been learning a lot, both about the city and myself."

Troy chimed in, "I've seen your updates on Instagram. Big city life suits you; it seems."

You nodded, appreciating the support "It has its challenges, but I've found my way. And how have things been here?" you asked, turning the focus back to your family.

Emma shared stories of family adventures, your niece animatedly described the school, and Troy added humorous anecdotes. The room resonated with the warmth of shared moments, creating a tapestry of memories that wove together in the past, finding its way to the present. 

As the lively dinner conversation continued, your family members took turns sharing anecdotes and updates about their lives. Laughter echoed through the room, creating an atmosphere of familiarity and connection.

Your dad, sitting at the head of the table, finally chimed in with a gleam in his eye. "Speaking of repairs, Joel stopped by yesterday and helped me fix the leaky faucet in the kitchen. Handy fellow, that one."

The mention of Joel's made your heart skip a beat, causing a subtle shift in your demeanor. 

"Oh, really?" you replied, your voice carefully neutral. "That's... helpful."

Your father continued to tell you all about the unexpected repair session, praising Joel's handy talents and charming demeanor. The words hung in the air, and you were unable to ignore your sister, sitting opposite you. Her curious glance briefly met yours, and you could sense her interest bubbling underneath the outer layer.

As the dinner conversation progressed, Emma successfully directed the conversation to more general topics, including everyone in a discussion about Christmas preparation and traditions. Her attentive eyes, on the other hand, suggested a level of awareness that went beyond what was visible to everyone at the table. 

Emma's focused gaze, on the other hand, continued to indicate awareness, and you couldn't shake the sense that she was puzzling together the puzzle. The affair between you and Joel had left a mark, and the holiday reunion had become a delicate dance of concealing and disclosing, and you were concerned that your illicit affair would eventually come to light.

Later in the evening, as the rest of the family dispersed around the house, you and Emma found yourselves sitting together with cookies and tea in hand. The festive decorations adorned the living room, casting a warm glow on the surroundings.

Emma's focused gaze hinted at the questions lingering beneath the surface. The casual conversation about Christmas preparations and traditions gradually gave way to a more personal inquiry.

Sipping her tea, Emma finally reached the subject. "So, how's love life in New York? Anything interesting happening?”

You pulled a smile amid your anxious flutter. "Oh, you know, the usual city hustle and bustle. My romantic life, on the other hand, has been relatively quiet.”

Emma raised an eyebrow, a knowing glint in her eyes. "Quiet, huh? I find that hard to believe. What about that guy you were seeing last year?"

Your heart skipped a beat, and you struggled to maintain composure. "Guy? What guy?" you asked, faking innocence.

Emma leaned in, her expression holding curiosity. "Come on, don't play coy with me. I noticed something was going on between you and Joel last year. Don't tell me I was imagining things."

Feigning nonchalance, you attempted to divert the conversation. "Joel and I were just friends. You know how it is people misinterpret things."

But Emma wasn't easily swayed. She raised an eyebrow, a skeptical expression on her face. "Just friends? The way you two looked at each other went beyond friendship, and I'm not imagining things."

You sighed, realizing that you couldn't dismiss her observations easily. "Okay, maybe there was something more," you admitted reluctantly. "But it was complicated, and I didn't want to bring unnecessary drama into the family."

Emma's expression softened with understanding, but a hint of concern remained. "Complicated how?"

“Come on Emma, he is fifteen years older than me and Dad loves him, imagine how fucked up for him to know her daughter was dating his friend who happens to be his neighbor.”

Emma's eyes widened with realization, and she nodded in understanding. "Oh, I see. That does sound complicated."

You continued, your voice carrying the weight of the unspoken challenges. "And there were other factors too. Career aspirations, the age difference, and the fear of disrupting the family dynamic—it just wasn't sustainable."

She placed a reassuring hand on yours. "I get it. Relationships can be messy, especially when they involve people close to home. But, darling, you can't carry all of that on your shoulders alone. We're family, and we're here for you."

You offered a small smile, appreciating Emma's support. "Thanks, Em. It's just been a lot to process."

You hesitated, weighing your words carefully. "We knew it wouldn't work. There were too many obstacles, and we decided it was best to end things."

Emma studied your face, her gaze searching for the truth beneath the surface. "And now? Have you moved on?"

You nodded, a sense of resignation settling over you. "Yes, I've moved on. New York has been a fresh start for me, and I've been focusing on my career and personal growth."

Emma's gaze softened with empathy. "I just want you to be happy, you know? If there's anything you need to talk about, I'm here for you."

“Thank you, Em,” you said, holding her hand.

The following day, with your parent's Christmas party approaching, you, your father, and your brother made your way to the supermarket to buy the groceries. The upcoming celebration was a tradition for your parents and the joy of this day has been filling the air, since your arrival, so the three of you navigated the aisles of the supermarket, filling the cart with the essentials.

When your father and brother went to another aisle, you started looking for some drinks. Your attention momentarily deviated, and you collided with someone. The impact jolted through you, and as you steadied yourself, you found your eyes locking with someone you wanted to avoid,

Joel. 

And there, in the middle of the aisle, time seemed to stand still. The echoes of your past encounters resurfaced. Joel’s gaze held a mix of surprise, and for a moment both of you were silent, not knowing how to react.

"Hi," Joel finally said, breaking the silence. His voice carried a weight in his words, and you could feel the venom. 

"Hi," you replied, your voice tinged with shame and sadness. The supermarket aisle suddenly felt like a confined space, threatening you.

When Joel was about to say something else, your father and brother joined you in the aisle, noticing Joel standing there in front of you. 

“Joel!” your father exclaimed with a smile “Fancy meeting you here, I suppose you’re coming tomorrow?”

"Hey!” Joel greeted them, reciprocating the smiles. “I wouldn’t miss it”

“Great because- “

Just as your father was about to say something, a woman appeared behind Joel, breaking the moment “Joel, love, I found the sauce for our lunch”, she announced with a bright smile.

Love, you thought, the nickname ringing in your ears.

Your heart sank, that meant he moved on from you. Joel’s eyes briefly met yours, and you could sense them burning on your skull.

Before anyone could say something, you excused yourself, stammering, "I, uh, forgot something for lunch. I'll catch up with you guys later."

As you rapidly made your way out from their view, you navigated through the crowded supermarket, you felt a mix of emotions. The encounter had brought forth the reality of Joel's life moving forward, and the endearing nickname from the woman emphasized the distance that had grown between you.

You still feel his, but he wasn’t yours anymore.

Perhaps, he never was.

When the darkness of the night enveloped Austin, you excuse yourself for a moment to go out and breathe the cold air of the night in the backyard. The air was crisp, and a light dusting of leaves crunched beneath your feet as you made your way to the bench beside the tree. The solitude felt like a sweet balm for you as a temporary escape from the bustling movement inside the house due to the upcoming party. 

Settling onto the bench with a mug of warm tea in your hands, you gazed up at the winter sky, the stars twinkling in a vast expanse. The coldness was something you had grown accustomed to in New York, but for some reason, here felt colder in your bones. 

As you lost yourself in the eerie night, it seemed like you weren’t the only one with the same idea. You sensed a presence closer. Turning your head, you saw Joel stepping out to his backyard, only the wooden fence separating the two of you. His eyes met yours instantly and you felt how the air felt colder. 

Choosing to avoid direct eye contact with him, you shifted your gaze back to the sky, the mug in your hands offering a comforting warmth through your body. The silence between you and Joel felt heavy, laden with unspoken words and the weight of a shared past.

The distance between you was both physical and emotional, and the fence that separated the yards seemed to symbolize the barriers that had grown over a year of no talking. 

For a moment, you pondered the complexities of the past, the changes in both your lives and the uncertain future that lay ahead. As the coldness of the night seeped through, you couldn't help but wonder if this unexpected encounter under the stars would be the catalyst for facing the unresolved emotions that lingered between you and Joel.

The silence between you and Joel stretched on, the only audible sounds being the hushed whispers of the night

"It's been a long time," he said, breaking the quietude of the night.

You kept your gaze fixed on the night sky, a silent acknowledgment of his observation.  

"I see you’re in town," Joel continued.

You nodded slightly, acknowledging his words without turning to face him. "Just for the holidays.”

A subtle pause followed, as if both of you were navigating the weird stage of talking again. The memories of that chilly winter night and the unspoken promises lingered beneath the surface.

"Today at the supermarket," he admitted, breaking the silence once again. "Didn't expect to run into you like that."

The mention of your previous encounter woke up something within you, you finally turned your gaze toward him, your eyes meeting his for the first time since your return.

"Yeah, it was... unexpected," you admitted, the unspoken tension lingering in the air.

The backyard, bathed in the soft glow of moonlight, became a stage for the reunion of two individuals who once shared something deep. As the coldness of the night surrounded you, the shared gaze under the stars held the potential for understanding, closure, or perhaps the beginning of a new chapter in the journey you both had embarked on separately.

Joel took a deep breath before speaking again. "I heard you are happy in New York," he remarked, his gaze still fixed on you.

"Yeah" you hummed "I saw you have a girlfriend"

Joel's expression shifted, surprise and discomfort clouding his features. 

"Yeah," he replied cautiously, "we've been together for a while."

The revelation hung between you like an unspoken challenge, and a heavy silence settled over the backyard. The night, once serene, now felt charged with the complexities of your shared history and the stark reminder that life had moved on for both of you.

You took a deep breath, attempting to compose yourself, to regain the equilibrium that had momentarily slipped away. The night air, however, seemed colder now, mirroring the chill that had settled within you.

"I should go back inside," you said, your voice softer but still tinged with the residual bitterness.

Joel nodded, his gaze lingering for a moment before turning away. As you retreated from the backyard, the wooden fence once again became a symbolic barrier, separating the present from the past.

The door closed behind you, and the warmth of the house enveloped you, but the encounter under the stars lingered in the recesses of your mind. The complexities of the night had illuminated the unresolved emotions that still needed time to settle, and as Christmas approached, you found yourself grappling with the unexpected twists of this unwanted reunion. The echoes of love and loss that remained entangled in the tapestry of your shared history.

Amidst the festive chaos of the Christmas Eve party at your parents' house, the air thick with laughter and the mingling of guests, you found yourself needing a moment of solitude. The house echoed with the warmth of shared joy, but the weight of unspoken emotions lingered within you.

As you made your way outside carefully, you deeply knew you were doing everything at your had to avoid at the party, and being outside would be a start.

Once you stepped into the backyard, you let a deep breathe escaped from your lungs. The crips winter air embraced your bare shoulders, but you didn’t mind the coldness, the air felt like a breeze allowing you to breathe.

But for your surprise, things not always worked out for you. Joel sat there, a few steps away, seemingly seeking the same solace as you. The silence of the backyard contrasted with the buzzing inside the house, creating a space for reflection and solitude.

It seems like the universe wanted to pull you together somehow.

"Hey," Joel greeted, his voice carrying a hint of the familiar fire that once resonated between you two.

"Hi," you replied, offering a small smile noticeable under the dim lights of the backyard.

The backyard became a silent witness to the unspoken secret story shared between you two. Here one year after you both knew each other in a way that was invisible to others, you stood again, face to face.

The air became thick with charged energy of unspoken words, and for a moment, you stood in a tightrope suspended between what was and what could have been.

As you exchanged glances, a mutual understanding passed between you. The complexities of your history, the unspoken words, and the lingering emotions were present in the shared gaze.

"Mind if I join you?" you asked, breaking the silence.

Joel nodded, and together, in the quiet solitude of the backyard on Christmas Eve, you found a moment to breathe, allowing the weight of the past to settle in the hushed conversations and shared glances under the glow of festive lights. 

The cobblestones beneath you felt cold, contrasting with the warmth of the festive lights overhead. You and Joel sat side by side, shoulders touching, and despite your bare arms in your dress, the friction of Joel’s touch against your skin sent a familiar warmth throughout your body. 

That silence spoke volumes. The shared secret increased a palpable tension, but in the quietude of the backyard, the beatings of your hearts were the only thing you could hear. 

After a while, Joel broke the silence. "It's been a year," he said softly, his gaze fixed on the distant lights.

"Yeah, a year," you replied, the words heavy with the unspoken emotions of the past.

Joel turned to look at you, his eyes searching yours. "I never got a chance to say goodbye properly. It just... ended and you were gone."

Your gaze met his, and for a moment, the echoes of the past filled the space between you. "I know," you whispered, the weight of regret in your words.

The Christmas lights above flickered, casting a soft glow on both of you. In that quiet moment, under the canopy of stars, you and Joel sat in shared contemplation, a bittersweet reminder of where the path of love and love met. 

“Your girlfriend?” you asked, out of the blue. Those words slipped from your lips without previous thinking. 

The question hung in the air, pregnant with the weight of unspoken emotions. Joel's gaze lingered on the distant lights for a moment, and then he turned to meet your eyes. The pause felt like an eternity before he finally spoke.

"I broke up with her” he began, his voice carrying sincerity and hesitation. "It was never gonna work” 

"I'm sorry to hear that," you replied sincerely, even though a part of you couldn't help but feel a tinge of conflicting emotions. The shared history, the unresolved feelings, and the present reality collided in this moment.

Joel nodded, his gaze returning to the distant lights. "It needed to happen. We both knew it. It was just a matter of time."

You nodded, understanding the mix of emotions all too well. The silence settled between you again, the unspoken understanding weaving a fragile thread in the quiet night.

"I never wanted to hurt you," you added, your voice soft with remorse.

"I know," he replied, offering a small smile. The intricacies of your shared history had left scars, but in this moment, there was a sense of acceptance for what wasn’t meant to be. “We’re different”

The last words broke your heart a little, you just wanted to go back to those meeting behind the eyes of witnesses. Back when you were still sharing stolen kisses and glances, tracing patterns on the palm of his hand. Back when you weren’t two strangers without nothing to say.

“Do you love her? you asked, blandly.

“I care about her” he said simply.

“Have you ever loved someone?” you inquired, again.

The question lingered in the air, and for a moment, a subtle vulnerability crossed Joel's features. As if the question found him with no warning. He met your gaze with a certain intensity, his eyes revealing emotions that words were incapable of capturing.

"Yes," he replied, his voice soft, the unspoken acknowledgment hanging between you. The weight of the unspoken love that once connected you both seemed to fill the space. 

You have never said those three words before, but the secret language seemed to be doing its job, and the Christmas lights overhead cast a gentle glow on the emotions laid bare in your eyes and Joel's.

Joel's gaze remained fixed on yours, his eyes revealing the emotions that transcended the limitations of spoken language. The unspoken confession echoed between you, creating a fragile bridge that spanned the gap between the past and the present.

"I don’t want to forget," Joel whispered, breaking the silence once again. The admission held a touch of vulnerability.

"I don’t want to forget either," you replied, your voice carrying a mixture of nostalgia and acceptance. The shared understanding between you two seemed to bridge the gap, if only for a moment, allowing the remnants of your shared history to find a place in the present.

You felt the need to break the killing silence that enveloped you both. "I should probably head back inside," you said, your voice carrying a soft tone. 

Joel's gaze lingered on yours, and for a moment, it seemed as if time stopped, and as you began to turn away, Joel gently caught hold of your hand.

When Joel finally released your hand, you felt a subtle tug at your heart. It was a bittersweet reminder of the intimacy you once shared, and the reality of the present settling in.

With a final look, Joel nodded, his eyes conveying a mixture of emotions. You turned away, leaving the quiet backyard and the echoes of the past behind.

Once inside, you felt a lump in your throat and air seemed unable to leave your lungs. You felt suffocated.

Emma, being as perceptive as always, noticed you in distress. She approached you with a concerned expression. "What happened?" she asked, her eyes searching yours for answers.

You hesitated, struggling to find the right words. "Just... nothing” you managed to say, attempting to downplay the effect of Joel on you.

Emma's gaze remained fixed on you, her intuition sensing that there was more beyond that answer. However, before she could press further, Joel stepped inside the house. A subtle tension filled the air as Emma's eyes met yours, and in that shared look, understanding passed between you.

The unspoken language between sisters didn’t need more words. Emma realized the weight of the encounter in the backyard between you and Joel, the echoes of a past that had not completely faded. The acknowledgment passed between you two without a word, an unspoken understanding of the complexities that lingered in the air.

As Joel moved further into the house, Emma offered a reassuring touch on your arm. "If you ever want to talk, I'm here," she whispered, her eyes reflecting the sisterly bond that had always been a source of support.

You nodded appreciatively, acknowledging the unspoken offer of solace. The Christmas celebration continued around you, but the encounter in the backyard had cast a shadow over the festivities, a poignant reminder of the intricate dance between love and loss.

You had broken his heart that night, but you also broke yours in the process.

As the hour passed, you found yourself engaged in polite conversation with some friends of the family and a friend of your father who seemed eager to play matchmaker for his son. The well-intentioned attempts at setting up a date had created a temporary diversion, but once they left you alone, you sighed in relief.

You weren’t really into dating right now, not when you heart belonged to the man next door.

And as if you had called for him, Joel appeared by your side again, his presence unobtrusive but noticeable.

 "Can we talk?" you felt a mixture of apprehension and curiosity.

Nodding in agreement, you both found a quieter corner away from the festive chatter. The Christmas lights overhead cast a gentle glow on the space between you, and for a moment, the world outside seemed to fade away, just as if a director were shooting a scene for a movie.

“Can we go to my house?” he rather asked, after a while.

“No..” you said unsure “You know what happened last time I was there” you added.

Joel's gaze remained earnest, and you could sense the vulnerability in his eyes. The invitation to go to his house carried a weight of history, a place where memories of your shared past were etched into the very walls.

"I know," he responded, his voice carrying a hint of regret. "But there are things we need to talk about. Closure, maybe."

The word "closure" hung in the air, a bittersweet promise that tugged at the edges of your emotions. The Christmas lights overhead flickered like stars, casting a cinematic glow on the unfolding scene. You didn’t want this to be the end. You didn’t want to go back to being strangers without anything in common.

After a moment of contemplation, you sighed and nodded. "Okay, let's go."

You both stepped away from the celebration, the night embraced you with its quietude. The air was cold, carrying the essence of winter, and the soft glow of the Christmas lights seemed to guide you through the familiar streets.

Silent footsteps echoed between you, each one carrying the weight of unspoken words and unfinished stories. The walk to Joel's house next to yours felt eternal surrounded by the silence.

As you reached the doorstep, Joel hesitated for a moment before opening the door. A rush of memories flooded your mind, carrying you back to that pivotal moment a year ago. The air held anticipation, and as you stepped inside, the warmth of his home embraced you like an old, familiar friend.

As you entered, Joel closed the door behind you, and for a moment, the world outside seemed to fade away. The hushed whispers of shared secrets and stolen glances lingered in the air, creating an electric tension you couldn’t resist when you were alone.

Joel's eyes met yours, and a silent pleading between you. It was a dance you both knew well, one of unspoken desires and forbidden affairs.

He closed the distance between you with deliberate steps, his gaze never leaving yours. The air crackled with anticipation as he cupped your face gently, his touch tender yet possessive. And then, in that intimate space, he kissed you.

back against the wall, hands roaming through your body, finger interlocking the curls of his hair…

Back in the present, the door closed with a soft click, snapping you out of the memory. Joel's hesitant gaze met yours, and the echoes of that forbidden night resonated in the silent space between you, a reminder of a love that once burned brightly but had since been extinguished.

Joel led you further into the house, the familiar surroundings triggering a cascade of memories. The living room held echoes of shared laughter, whispered conversations, and stolen moments that were now frozen in the sands of time.

As you both settled into the present, Joel gestured towards the sofa. "Please, have a seat," he said, his voice carrying a blend of nostalgia and present reality.

“Do you want some wine?”

“I quit drinking” you said, a tint of humor in your voice.

“Since when?” he asked.  

"Since I left," you replied, a trace of solemnity in your tone. The decision to quit drinking had been one of the changes you embraced in the wake of your departure from Austin. A symbolic act of shedding the old skin, leaving behind the habits that were intertwined with memories of the past. With the memories of Joel.

Joel nodded, a silent acknowledgment of the transformations that had taken place in both your lives.

"I've been thinking a lot about us since I saw you" he admitted, his gaze fixated on a point in the room, as if the walls held the answers to the questions lingering between you.

“You saw me yesterday” you replied.

Joel let out a small chuckle, a mixture of nervousness and amusement. "Yeah, yesterday. And it brought back a flood of memories, you know? The good and the... complicated."

You nodded, understanding the intricacies of those memories. The room seemed to pulse with the weight of shared history, each corner holding fragments of a past that was both beautiful and painful.

"I never got the chance to properly say goodbye," Joel continued, his eyes meeting yours with a vulnerability that echoed your own. "Things just ended abruptly, and I never had the closure I needed."

The word "closure" hung in the air again, a theme that seemed to weave through this conversation. It was evident that both of you were grappling with the untied threads of an illicit relationship that had left wounds unhealed.

"You didn't have to leave like that, you know," Joel said, his voice carrying a note of regret. "It felt like you vanished, and I had no way to reach out." He paused, “I should have stopped you."

The admission hung in the air; skipping a beat in your heart, a confession tinged with remorse. Joel's words echoed the sentiment that perhaps, in the haze of emotions and unspoken words, there had been opportunities missed, moments where the trajectory of your paths might have been altered.

"I should have stopped you," he repeated, his eyes holding regret and longing.

You took a deep breath, the weight of the past and the complexities of the present settling on your shoulders. "Maybe it was for the best, Joel. We both needed space, time to figure things out."

“No” he answered, closing the distance between you. His forehead touching yours, nose touching yours, as if seeking a way to hold you for a little bit more of time before you leave again.

"I've changed," you admitted, your voice carrying the weight of self-discovery. "Leaving was about finding myself, understanding what I wanted and needed."

The room held a charged silence.

"I want us to have closure, Joel," you said, breaking the silence. "To understand and accept what happened, and find a way to move forward."

He still didn’t pull away from you, grasping your face with his hands to prevent you to go away before he got the chance to say goodbye. He leaned closer, almost savoring the taste of your lips again.

“I can't," he admitted, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. The reality of his current relationship had momentarily faded in the magnetic pull between you two.

You gently pushed him away, creating a necessary distance. "Joel. I won't be the cause of hurting someone else."

His gaze lingered on yours, a silent acknowledgment of the boundaries that needed to be respected. The room held a heavyweight, a mix of the emotions that had lingered for far too long.

"I should go," you said, breaking the silence. The room seemed to exhale as you stepped away, creating a physical and emotional space between you and Joel.

As you turned to leave, Joel's voice cut through the silence, filled with regret and a genuine desire to understand.

"Don't go," he implored, his eyes searching yours for a connection. The magnetic pull between you and him seemed to intensify, and the room, despite its physical boundaries, felt like a battleground of conflicting emotions.

You paused, your hand on the doorknob, torn between the longing for closure and the fear of rekindling a flame that had once burned so brightly. Joel's plea echoed in the quiet room, his eyes filled with a mixture of regret and the unspoken desire to break the gap between the both of you.

"I can't, Joel," you replied, your voice carrying a blend of vulnerability and determination. "It's not fair to her, to you, or to me."

Joel took a step closer, his gaze unwavering. "I just need to understand, to talk. Please."

Your internal struggle played out on your face as you considered his words. The desire for closure, for a resolution to the unfinished story between you two, warred with the knowledge that reopening old wounds could lead to more pain.

"Okay," you finally relented, your voice barely above a whisper. The decision seemed to hang in the air, a delicate agreement to navigate the complexities of your shared history.

Joel's expression softened, gratitude and yearning evident in his eyes. The room, once heavy with tension, now held the promise of a conversation that could bring understanding and, perhaps, a sense of closure.

Joel took a deep breath, breaking the silence that had settled between you. "I know there's an age difference," he began, his voice carrying the weight of acknowledgment. "And I know your parents would be disappointed."

The reality of the situation hung in the air like an invisible barrier. The societal expectations, the judgments that might come, and the potential disappointment from your family added layers of complexity to an already intricate web of emotions.

You nodded; your gaze fixed on a distant point in the room. "It's not just about age, Joel. It's about the choices we make and the consequences they carry."

Joel's hands gently cradled your face, with tenderness and longing. The warmth in his eyes sought connection, an unspoken plea for you to give in.

"Let me enjoy this week with you," he implored, his voice a gentle caress. "Before you go back to New York. Before we part ways again”

The vulnerability in his plea resonated with the unspoken desires that lingered between you two.

"Let me call you “baby” again” he asked, his gaze searching yours for permission, a request to reclaim a term of endearment that had once been an intimate part of your shared history.

Your gaze met Joel's, a silent language between your eyes. You found yourself torn between the desire to hold onto the fragments of a love that once was and the understanding that the consequences of those choices were complex and far-reaching.

"I don't know, Joel," you replied, your voice a delicate whisper. "It's not that simple”

Joel's hands lingered on your face, his eyes searching yours for a sign, a connection that transcended the complexities of the situation.

"Let's spend Christmas together," Joel pleaded, his voice carrying a mixture of longing and resignation. "And then I'll let you go, even if it breaks my heart once more."

As you gazed into Joel's eyes, the unspoken understanding between you two seemed to transcend the complexities of the situation. In that moment, under the soft glow of Christmas lights, you found yourself leaning into him, into his touch and caring that echoed the flames of your shared affair.

"Okay, Joel," you whispered, your voice carrying the weight of this compromise. "Let's enjoy this week together."

[purpleheartskies]

I saw someone frustratingly say that Miguel got treated like a villain in the captaincy match. Curious, I looked into it. Apparently, there is a trope called the "Near-Villain Victory" :

"All hope looks lost. Soon the Big Bad will achieve their goal of taking over/destroying the city/world/universe, and there's nothing the heroes can do to stop them! But then WHAM — something unexpected happens, and the tide turns in the heroes' favor, allowing them to overcome the villain and win. This is what we call a Near-Villain Victory, where the bad guys look like they're going to win only to get defeated at the last moment." (from tvtropes.com)

Lmao This is exactly how Robby and Miguel's fight went for captaincy. Robby was down 0-2. Then, Tory appeared and Robby got his mojo back (as Hayden described it). Robby won it 3-2. Interestingly, Xolo said that Miguel was his most competitive while Tanner said that Robby was trying his mid.

Of course, many fans are claiming that Miguel was unbalanced, and even the writers said so, but the narrative clearly "shows" whenever Robby is unbalanced, including in this very fight, and the narrative didn't "show" this for Miguel in this fight. Balance is a major aspect of Robby's journey after all, not Miguel's (who I've mentioned doesn't seem to have an overarching journey like Robby does). Another Robby fan I know suggested that Miguel was off-balance as the match progressed because Robby suddenly came back and was able to tie it. This makes sense. Miguel had been so sure he'd win the match that he'd told Robby the day before that, whatever happens, Miguel's got no beef with him. lol After winning, Robby got to confirm, in light of Miguel's declaration the night before, that they're still good.

I've posted a lot about Miguel being the bully in their rivalry. Miguel "won" in s5, not just the fight but when it came to being Johnny's priority between the two. Robby gave in and didn't try anymore for a fair resolution for himself because of Johnny. The essay scene in s6e2 still showed Miguel being the bully and Johnny being on his side, as Miguel continued to scapegoat Robby for the school fight to prop himself up and build his own future at Robby's expense. Then, in s6e5, Miguel tried to "convince" (gaslight) Robby that Miguel needs the win more for his own future, but Robby stood up for himself and his own future and stayed firm.

I think there will continue to be tensions between the two in part 2 (which has also been alluded to in interviews for part 1). Since s1, Miguel's character has been established to not tolerate Robby being a priority or getting what Miguel has wanted. (I talk in detail about Miguel's sense of entitlement in this post.) In this case, Robby got in the way of Miguel's future goals, is the official leader for the boys, and is going to get the prestige of fighting on the world stage, live-streamed for the world to see.

Miguel got the "villain" treatment in the captaincy match because Miguel is a "villain" in Robby's story. Miguel has also always been Cobra Kai by nature. Robby is Miyagi-Do by nature. The story is now in Act 3 and has to start concluding. Robby is the Miyagi-Do kid who has to lead the battle against Cobra Kai. (Sam as well, but she's not an underdog.) Robby has been established as the main underdog and the new generation Karate Kid since s1.

[lacedinweb22]

Once Bitten, Twice Shy °❆˚₊⋆

Miguel O'Hara x reader Vampire Next Door ♱✮♱ Ch. 10 prev part here (New Year's/Christmas chapter inspired by lyrics from "Last Christmas" by Wham!)

nsfw 18+ (near end)

*̣̥☆·͙̥‧‧̩̥·‧•̥̩̥͙‧·‧̩̥❅‧̩̥·‧•̥̩̥͙‧·‧̩̥‧·͙̥̣☆*̣̥

Christmas creeped up on you this year. Between the weeks at your internship and avoiding Miguel, things have been all over the place, just when you thought things were starting to line up. 

So you were alone on Christmas and you’re alone on New Years Eve, both for the first time. You’ve got your headphones on, blasting, nostalgic Christmas music. 

Standing in the kitchen, you roll out cookie dough, finding yourself thinking about Miguel. Everything. From his annotations on your essays, to the blood on his bathroom floor. 

Once bitten, twice shy. 

Why can’t he confide in you? But blood isn't a simple secret, it’s bigger than you, you know that. 

Yesterday, you saw him coming up the stairs, one foot in the hallway, your own in your doorway. You look back, catch a glimpse of him down the hall; his hair is wet and messy from the snow, his cheeks pink from the cold. 

You hurry into your place before he sees you. He’s only left with the slam of your door. 

I keep my distance, but you still catch my eye. 

“I thought you liked me, now you won’t even talk to me.” 

Last week, he cornered you in the hallway. Your keys were deep in your bag.

“I’m busy, Mig. Been so busy.” Your cheeks feel hot, consequence of your lying. 

Your back is now against your door. He’s so close to you, looking down at you, head tilted. He looks beautiful… and threatening. But you’re stubborn and you don’t trust anyone anymore, especially not your blood-thirsty neighbor. 

“I mean I thought we were getting somewhere, Y/N.”

You did too.

“I did too. I just- I gotta go, Miguel. I’ll… talk to you later.” 

****

You sit on your fire escape, legs hanging down, headphones on your neck, still playing music. You watch the snow fall down, snowflakes swaying before gracefully adorning your coat. You lift your arm to look at the tiny, beautifully delicate shapes melting on you. 

You listen to the cars, the rumbling sky, the party music above you, the muffled voices. You’re okay being alone– 

“Hey,” 

“Jesus! What the fuck! Who— God, you scared me, asshole!” you throw a handful of snow that’s collected on your thighs at him. It pathetically hits his knees. 

It’s him, standing on his side of the fire escape in front of his window. He looks down at you, sympathetically. 

“What do you want? Why are you looking at me like that?” 

He straightens his face out. He looks straight forward, eyebrows furrowed, hands in his pockets. He looks stiff, cold like he was the first day.

“Figured you’d be home for Christmas.” 

“I am home.” You turn away, looking down at the alley below. 

“Home, home.”

“My mom was out of town. No point making the trip.” 

“Hm,” he drops down, legs hanging off the metal floor. He’s feet away, but it’s intimate; you’re both looking down at the alley, at the the busy street, city lights glowing on your faces, snow falling on the two of you. 

You turn to look at him. He’s not soft like he was a few weeks back, when you somehow unwrapped his outer layer. His mind is busy, somewhere else. You stop being angry with him for a second, you empathize. Maybe he has a job to do, and maybe you’re just not meant to know that part of him. Just let yourself enjoy what parts of himself he does want to share with you. 

“I got you something, Y/N,” he mutters, still looking straight forward. “Was gonna save it for when you weren’t so mad at me, but… Christmas was days ago.”

He pulls a box out of his right pocket. He reaches out, places it gently in your hand. It’s small, wrapped beautifully in blueprint scraps. The small tag reads, “For Y/N.” His handwriting is just like the annotations on your papers years ago. You smile down at it. 

“Why would you do this? I am still mad at you. And I didn’t get you anything.”

“I know. Jesus, just open it.”

It’s ear plugs. You laugh, then roll your eyes. 

You nudge him with your elbow. 

“Asshole. Is this you asking me to turn a blind eye?”

“Blind ear, actually.”

You glance up, unamused, which Miguel finds amusing. 

“But yes, exactly that.”

He nudges you, “Look under it.”

You lift the tab beneath the ear plugs. 

It’s a necklace. The charm is your initial in Old English font. 

“Let me help,” he suggests. You nod, still stunned from the gesture. He lifts his weight on his biceps, and sits closer to you. Music is still bleeding from the headphones around your neck. You place them beside you.

Tell me, baby, do you recognize me?

You look up at him. The crimson in his eyes highlighted by the city lights. You never know with him, you’re always searching for stable footing, for an understanding of why he acts the way he does, but despite all that, you feel like you know him. 

Well, it’s been a year, it doesn’t surprise me. 

Does he know you? The old you he shared a class with isn’t the person you are now.

And after all these years, will this new version of yourself be willing to let him know you, even if it means you’ll end up betrayed and hurt again?

Now I know what a fool I’ve been

You want to stay mad,

but he’s looking down at you like that, and you’re okay with getting hurt if it’s by him. He looks down at the box in your hands, and gently pulls the necklace out. 

He holds eye contact with you, as he puts his hands around your neck and clasps it under your hair, his eyes still on yours. 

You look down at the initial resting on your skin. 

You look back up.

“Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

“Merry Christmas, Miguel.”

He keeps one hand at your neck, his thumb softly stroking your jaw. 

But if you kiss me now, I know you’ll fool me again

He kisses you, his warm lips clinging to yours, warmth you appreciate as the snow shrouds you two. 

****

You’re sat on his couch. It’s 11 pm, one hour closer to the the new year.

He opens his window, looks outside at the snow, then turns back at you over his shoulder. A smile tugs at his lips.

You look down at the drink he’s made you. It’s sweet, like you asked. 

He hovers on the window frame, biceps flexed as his weight rests on them.

He turns around finally, facing you, his back against the window.

“Aren’t you gonna join me?”

He answers by slowly walking to the spot beside you. He sinks into it. 

He slides his fingers in between yours. Slowly, his warm, muscular hand eases into yours. It feels good. 

“You’re so confusing,” you sigh, throwing your head back, the alcohol taking over. “Sometimes, I swear I know you, then you do these, I don’t know, things and you completely throw me off and I don’t actually know who you are, or what you want, and there was a point where I thought I did.”

“Things,” he whispers to himself.

“The blood, Mig, my nightmares, your eyes– you’re different. I just want some answers–”

“And I’m sorry… I can’t…  give you all of the answers you’re looking for.”

“Why can’t you trust me?”

“Why can’t you just trust that I’m doing the right thing? That I’m doing what I have to, and trying to protect you all at the same time.”

You exhale. 

He throws his head back against the couch. He turns lazily to face you. 

You look back down at his hand in yours. 

“I’m trying to give you what I can. Could that be enough?” 

He says it lowly, squeezing your hand. Your fingers move against his, you turn your hands over so you’re on top, fingertips feeling his calloused palms. 

You feel his eyes on you, watching you feel his skin, attentively. 

He sighs. You turn, look up at him. His cheeks are pink. “The alcohol getting to you?” You whisper, leaning closer up to his lips. 

He nods, pulling his hand from out of your grasp and to the hair in your face. He brushes it back gently. 

Your face is flushed. You slowly lift your thigh across his lap, now stradling him. 

He rests his hands on your hips, heavy breathing against your neck as his hands explore the expanse between your thighs and hips. 

You find yourself moving against him slowly, craving pressure. 

He buries his face into your neck, pushing and pulling your hips gently against his. 

“We can’t keep doing this,” you break from his lips, hips unfaltering. 

“Doing what?” he speaks onto your lips, breathless, drunk from lust. 

“Avoiding each other when we’re sober, and making out when we’re drunk.” 

His lips are cold from the drink, you can taste the rum on him. You suck his bottom lip playfully, you feel him smile. 

“Last time, swear,” he smirks, before kissing you greedily.

✧❅✦

To be continued… ;)

NEXT PART here

This is my last post of 2023!!! WOwwww 2023 was so beautiful and enlightening, and I’ve learned so much about myself and my love for writing and it’s all been heavily inspired by Miguel and all of you beautiful people! You have no idea how grateful I am for all of your support and the growth I’ve been able to have on this platform omgggg <3 Thank you for being here udhffskfdkjsodsif I hope you all have a wonderful New Years full of love and good food. Take care of yourselves 

(´⌣`ʃƪ) ♥❅*°:⋆ₓₒ

[simplydannie]

WARNING: This story slightly mentions a sensitive topic (SA).

Before Mount Rageous, the twins lived in the under city: Under Rageous.

Life wasn't perfect, but when they had their parents, it was happy. Until one day an accident leaves them orphaned and at the hands of their evil aunt.

One day, Velvet has enough and runs away with her brother, where they meet someone who swears here's there to help.

They were only twelve at the time.

Their parents died two years ago, leaving them at the hands of their aunt… an evil woman who had no love for either of them. She’d ignore Velvet, which was fine for her… but Veneer, she hated him most for some reason.

There would be times after school that the twins would be doing their homework, she would come in and yank Veneer by the hair, pull him into a room… that’s when Velvet would hear the cries….

….. She’d beat him…..

Velvet would notice for the most stupid reasons too: the dishes weren’t put right, something was out of place, he was in her way… the list goes on and on. She was always angry and for some reason, Veneer was the person she took her anger out on.

One day Velvet made it worse for her brother. She brought him into her room to do homework. They did the chores they were supposed to when they came home.

SLAM!

They heard the front door…. Aunt Cressida was home. Velvet could see her brother tense up, but he never looked up from his homework. They heard the foot steps heading upstairs and straight to her door.

WHAM!

Cressida kicked the door open.

“The dishes… I said they needed to be separated in a particular order!” She stared straight at Veneer. “Why can’t you ever do anything right!” She went straight for him, but Velvet intercepted.

“I put them away this time!”

Cressida stopped. Velvet waited for her to be yanked by the hair, waited for her to be pulled away into another room. But she never touched her…Cressida only glanced at Veneer….Velvet didn’t like the way she looked at him…

“You’re growing to look a lot like your father.” Cressida said as she cocked her head…. She was their mother’s sister, why was she bringing up their dad?

…. She walked away, touching neither of them.

“Can I sleep here tonight Vels?” Veneer asked her. She nodded. There was only one way she would keep her brother safe, and that’s if he was close by.

The evening turned to night. Velvet was preparing her bed for Veneer to sleep in. He had brought his pillows and everything for a “sleepover” with his sister. He was giddy.

“Stop being so happy!” Velvet scowled.

“I can’t! It’s like a sleepover!” He smiled.

The door opened behind them.

“What’s this?” Their aunt asked.

“Veneer is sleeping over. It’s not a school night anyways.” Velvet said.

“Did you ask me for permission?”

“No. But it’s in the house. We’re not going anywhere.”

“I don’t want you brats staying up all night laughing and talking. I have sleep to get! Now off to your own room Veneer!” She demanded. Veneer looked at his sister, he didn’t want either of them to get in trouble. He gathered his things and walked back to his room. Velvet saw Cressida eye him suspiciously. She then turned to Velvet.

“To bed. Now.” She slammed the door shut.

Velvet couldn’t sleep. She lay awake staring at the ceiling of her room. The night wasn’t completely dark as the light from the upper atmosphere of Mount Rageous glowed. One day, her and Veneer would be up there, away from this gutter, this life. It wasn’t perfect, but when their parents were here, it was happy.

She continued to listen… to listen for any cries of pain…. She heard nothing… only silence…. And that terrified her more than anything. Hours had passed, she couldn’t help it. Velvet tiptoed to her door and opened it ever so slightly. She listened in for any sounds…. Silence. Velvet continued to tiptoe to her aunts room. Inside she could hear soft snores, she was asleep.

She made her way to Veneers door and opened it quietly. That’s when she heard soft little cries and saw her brother sitting at the foot of his bed hugging his knees.

“Ven?” She called out softly. He didn’t turn to look at her, he only rocked back and forth hugging his knees.

“Ven? What happened? Are you okay?”

He still did not answer her. His eyes were glued to the ground, tears coming out. What happened? She hadn’t heard any cries, any screams… was he just this traumatized…she placed a hand in his shoulder. That’s when he looked up to meet her eyes.

“V-Vels….” He murmured. Veneer clenched his knees tighter. He began crying uncontrollably. “S-she… did something to me…”

“What did that hag do Vennie! I swear I’ll beat her!” Anger began to grow inside her… she hated Cressida… HATED her.

“Don’t be mad.” He said in between cries.

“Why would I be mad?”

“….she said she would hurt you too. She told me she would lock my door and go and hurt you.” He hugged himself, “So I let her. I tried not to cry or scream because I knew you would wake up and come to me….”

“WHAT DID SHE DO.” Velvet demanded now. He looked at her with sad eyes, tears wetting his entire face.

“….. She….. touched me, Vels…. I didn’t like it…..I didn’t like….” He began to cry again. Velvet had no words… she only stared at her distraught brother…. His innocence practically taken away now. He dared not cry for help because Cressida threatened to hurt her… he allowed Cressida to do that to him….because of her. Velvet clutched her fists…. This was enough.

She stood up and marched off.

“Vels?” Veneer called out to her. Velvet grabbed a lamp from a nearby drawer and marched straight into Cressidas room.

“Vels!” Veneer tried stopping her again, tripping and falling on his own feet. The commotion woke Cressida.

“What do you-“

SMACK!

Velvet stuck her across the face with the lamp, leaving her unconscious.

“DONT TOUCH HIM EVER AGAIN!” Velvet screamed at the top of her lungs. She raised the lamp to strike her again. She felt small hands wrap around hers, pulling her back, pulling the lamp away.

“Vels no!”

“SHE HURT YOU.” Velvet began to cry hugging her brother. Veneer returned the embrace…. It really was just them in this under city…no one would dare help…. They had to get out…. Velvet wrapped her hand around Veneers and pulled him to follow her…..she ran.

Pulling her brother, she ran straight out the door, down the street. She had no idea where, but they needed to get as far away from that place as possible.

“Velvet!” She heard her brother cry out to her.

“Just run Vennie!”

They ran…. and ran…. and ran…leaving everything behind with no sense of direction.

Shady Rageouns ran the streets at this late hour, so Velvet guided them to an empty lot, free of anyone. They took shelter behind a dumpster under an artificial tree.

“What are we going to do?” He asked her.

“I…. I don’t know Vennie…. We just needed to get out of there.” Velvet looked up at the lights of Mount Rageous. “Up there! We need to get up there!”

“That’s impossible Vels. No one down here ever makes it up there.”

“…. We have to try…..”

Holding on to each other, they closed their eyes and drifted to sleep.

They were awoken by footsteps nearing them. Velvet was the first to open her eyes. Veneer woke up making a soft noise. She covered his mouth with her hands and held him close. The footsteps got closer, and closer. The dumpster was moved exposing the twins.

“Well what do we have here.” Said the voice. It was a Rageous teen, about five years older than they were. Pale skin like them, except he had back stringy hair that stuck out under a dark brown beanie.

“Told you I saw them come this way.” Next him a Rageous child, maybe only seven. Pale skin and long dark pink stringy hair fell to her waist.

“Go away!” Velvet screamed.

“Easy kid. I’m not here to hurt you. Im here to help you.” The teen said. Velvet and Veneer don’t move, they don’t budge.

“I’m Scipsio. And I know a place for runaways just like you here in Under Rageous. Come on.”

[addisonstars]

"the prettiest star"

written for day 19 of december for @jegulus-microfic with the prompt "note" totaling 439 words

James walked in the house, only to find it quiet. The lights are on, which is normal, but usually there's the soft voices of the tv playing in the background or music flowing through the house. Regulus gets home earlier than James most of the time, so that's why the house has some kind of life to it when he gets home. All James finds today is a note on the counter: 

"Come to the porch

--RAPB"

James drops everything he has in his hands and walks out to the small porch they have attached to their flat. Once James opens the french doors leading to outside, what he finds leaves him speechless. 

Blankets, pillows, a warm bowl of popcorn, even a telescope, and Regulus are all outside. Regulus is bundled up with a blanket on him and a pillow behind him as he lays down on the mattress set on the concrete floor, looking above at the stars. 

One of their main reasons for moving out this far away was to be able to see the stars more clearly than the city. Would James rather not have a forty-five minute commute? Yes. But would he choose Regulus over himself? Also yes. 

“Hey love,” James walks over as lays down next to Regulus, who immediately kisses him softly. 

“Hullo dear.” Regulus pulls away but grabs James’s hand, not wanting to be apart from him any longer than he needs to be. “Work was alright?” 

James chuckles, “yes, it was fine Reg. How was your day?” They get to talking and check up on each other like they do every time they get home. 

It finally gets dark enough to where they can use the telescope to look at the stars. “Here,” Reg says as he moves the telescope over to James. “Look.” 

James looks, and he is in awe of what he sees. He can see clearly the stars and the constellations that they make up. It’s so pretty that James goes speechless for the second time tonight. 

“I love it,” he breathes out. He smiles at Regulus, who also currently wears a wide smile. 

“Mmm, I’m glad. I just had a random thought earlier, noticing that we’ve never been stargazing before. So, I bought a telescope on my way home from work and set up this little fort out here and waited.” 

“I love it,” he says again. “I love you.” 

They end up laying down, both of them looking at the stars. But while Regulus looks at the ones in the sky, James looks at the one right next to him. The only star he’ll ever need. 

last christmas by wham! is the best christmas song. thank you.

-a.s.

[fuck-you-upmusicbracket]

Wham City (Dan Deacon)

"This song has the most dramatic fucking buildup on the planet, and when I listened to it I was transported into another dimension I swear to god. It has a quiet and peaceful buildup, then bursts into flames and tells a wacky story it made up on the spot. I always imagine wandering through a wasteland, leading headfirst into a horrible war of incomprehensible scale and majesty, then once everyone finally dies the world left behind is a shell of its old self and the only living person left hopes that all humanity dies and leaves the planet be forever. God fuck it strips me down to the skin and kills me and makes me cry and I can literally NEVER listen to it unless I am already in a specific mood or state of mind or if there's absolutely nothing else I need to do that day, because it gives me energy to run headfirst into a wall but leaves me sobbing. GOD DAMN."

American Pie (Don McLean)

Oh, and as I watched him on the stage/My hands were clenched in fists of rage/No angel born in Hell/Could break that Satan's spell/And as the flames climbed high into the night/To light the sacrificial riteI saw Satan laughing with delight/The day the music died

“Listen. This song has so many metaphorical, kinda vague lyrics, and every single one of them unlocks some emotion that I cannot make sense of but that fucks me up none-the-less. Everyone that performs this song insists on playing it safe, but some day someones gonna cover the song and absolutely serve cunt and its gonna obliterate me”

[startrekfangirl2233-writes]

Wake Me Up Before You Go Go

Mickey 'Fanboy' Garcia x Reader

Description: Mickey Garcia has always had dance in his soul. It shocked everyone he knew when he didn't follow the music and dance in his soul for a career. Instead he became a Naval Aviator - a Weapons Systems Officer, in fact, and didn't regret that decision even once. Some part of him knew that he would find his dance partner one day. After the Uranium Mission, the restlessness in his soul lead to Mickey going dancing, and that's where he'd found you. At first things between the two of you were just fun. But what happens when Mickey wants more? Can he convince you just how good the two of you could be dancing in step for the rest of your lives? Disclaimer: Female!Reader Word Count: 2947 Author’s Note: Hiya! I wrote this fic as yet another installment for @roosterforme's Top Gun Rocktober Event. This time, it's based on the song Wake Me Up (Before You Go Go) by Wham! This is my first official oneshot for Fanboy and I really love it! I hope you all do too! All of the bold and italicized parts are lyrics from the song! My Masterlist

Miguel Garcia has always had a dancer’s heart. Growing up in Miami, Florida, he’s been surrounded by music since the day he was born in an inner-city hospital to two people with pure music in their souls. If you asked either of his parents, they’d have thought he’d grow up to be a Merengue, Cumbia, or Salsa dancer. Instead, Miguel chose to join the Navy. When he was so serious, so sure of the decision, who were they to stop him? He’d worked incredibly hard to climb the ranks, but he’d never lost the rhythm in his heart. What was harder to find was the girl who dances in a complimentary rhythm to his own. 

It hasn’t helped either that he’s been deployed around the world for most of his career. It has been an incredibly fulfilling life, but a solitary one. Sure he has Reuben, who Mickey can unequivocally class as both a best friend and a brother, but it's not the same. A part of him has always wanted the kind of love his parents share, the kind of love he'd grown up with. The Uranium mission had seemed like the turning point in his career. The admiralty had formed a new squadron, electing to keep the Daggers together, and he was (he is) happy to have a permanent place to call home. It had finally felt like he had a family again. But something was still missing - someone was still missing.

He'd started up his old habits from his youth once more. Weekend after weekend he'd hit the dance clubs of San Diego, dancing with everybody who wanted to, until the nervous thrum in his veins had quieted once more. That was the only way he’d been able to fall asleep with the new monotony his life had taken. It had been one such night after a terribly boring week when he saw you for the first time. You were laughing and carefree, each elegant movement looking like poetry on the dance floor of the small salsa bar. It was the first time all night he’d felt the incessant energy thrumming under his skin grow quiet. 

"Hi, can I cut in?" He'd asked.

"Sure," You'd giggled. The minute you put your hand in his, he'd been lost to the music in your eyes and the rhythm of your soul. You'd felt like sin under his fingertips and your smile had been brighter than the sun. Mickey had not wanted to let go of you all night.

That rhythm had translated into what was the best sex of his life in the months following your serendipitous meeting. But night after night he always woke up in his simple, shitty little base apartment to the sight of you slipping out of the door like you'd never been in his bed to begin with. Just like that, too, he'd stay awake an hour longer to see your posts on social media about dancing in the Gaslamp Quarter. And every night he'd fall back to sleep wishing that one day soon your heart would beat to the same rhythm as his own. He'd known you'd wanted something light, "Just fucking, just for fun", you'd murmured in your musical voice that first night. And just fucking, just for fun was where he'd stayed.

Mickey isn’t sure when it happened, but you've been haunting his every thought. He only needs to blink and he can see your smile, your sparkling eyes, and everything about you in technicolor swimming in front of his eyes. All of a sudden, your arrangement isn’t enough. He wants to dance through life with you, not just waltz you into his bed every few nights. It’s no lie that work keeps you busy, just like the Navy keeps him. He knows you love it, dancing by night and during the day writing reviews of the places you danced at for one of San Diego's travel websites. But Mickey can't help wanting more of you.

Even when he's supposed to be flying, he's only thinking of you. His inattention could cause him to make some serious mistakes, but he can’t stop. The one time he’d mentioned it to Payback, he’d regretted it too. Reuben was no help. His advice had been, "Just tell her how you feel. Then you can woo her!"

Well, Reuben may know exactly what to say to Emily, his wife, but Mickey still has no idea what to say to you. Or when, to be honest. You're barely around for more than a few hours at a time. And when you are, your pretty mouth is too occupied to do much talking.

After months of trying and failing to tell you how he feels, Mickey's decided he has to take matters into his own hands and track you down at one of these clubs. He has to dance with you, take advantage of the close proximity and your body pressed against his to tell you the truth. But he has no idea what your schedule is. So Mickey does what he does best, analyzes all of the facts. If he can do it in the back of a jet, he can track you down, right? The first thing he does is call your best friend.

"Hey, Maria. Do you have any idea what Angel's doing this weekend?" Her response had been vague at best, something about a themed dance night at one of the clubs in the city. Okay, it's a start. But it's October. Nearly every dance club in the city is throwing themed dance nights Friday through Sunday. That's not going to help much. 

You'd mentioned something to him a couple of nights ago, about reviewing the theme night happening at one of the newest clubs in town. It was one of the few words of pillow talk he actually remembered before your mouth was doing wicked things that made his heart rate skyrocket. Now if only he could remember what kind of theme night. Not hip hop, funk, or soul. It could've been a kpop night, but you'd mentioned something about lycra? What the hell does lycra have to do with dance? Before he can update his list, his phone gets snatched right out of his hands. It's Hangman, because of course it is, and the nosey fucker's already looking into Mickey's phone like it's his god-given right to do so.

"Well, well, well, Fanboy. You like going dancing on weekends? Picking up the ladies?" The glare Mickey levels at the obnoxious blond could have been powerful enough to set him up in flames. 

"Can I have my phone back, please, Bagman?" But Hangman just keeps scrolling, quite gleefully ignoring his pleas.

"Nah. This is too interesting." He squints at the screen. "What do dancing and lycra have to do with each other?"

"I wish I knew. My girlfriend, I guess, mentioned going to one of these Halloween theme dance nights this weekend. And she mentioned something about lycra and one of the places she's going this weekend." Mickey should not be grateful to have his phone back, not when Jake just slumps down on the sofa and starts brainstorming out loud. Most of his suggestions are frankly ludicrous and the longer Mickey hears him talk the more his head pounds. 

By the time training is over for the day, every single Dagger knows and has contributed their two cents. Mickey's more than exhausted and all he wants is his Angel, but you're not there. But as it stands, there is a monster in his stomach growling loudly and he’s covered in sweat. So into the locker room he goes, praying that the guys have something, anything to talk about other than his Angel search. 

Of course the minute he walks into the locker room he’s bombarded with even more suggestions. At that moment, Mickey has to remind himself that he likes these people. They may be pains in his ass but he likes them.

"Aww, c'mon Fanboy! This is your girl we're talking about. So what's she like in bed? She has to be a bombshell in and out of bed to keep your attention." Mickey's not quite sure what to say to Jake's comment because you are. He calls you his Angel for a reason after all. But he's never once indulged in locker room shop talk and he isn't going to now. Not when he's not even sure how you feel about him and everything.

So he just shrugs and turns on the shower. With the hot water pounding down around him the tight band of pressure across his temples eases. It helps that Hangman has finally, finally shut up about Angel's weekend plans, too.

But it feels like it's nearly too good to be true. Because the squadron is at the Hard Deck later that night, and Mickey gets cornered by Natasha and Bob.

"So, Fanboy." Bob's smiling good naturedly as he pushes a soda towards Mickey. "What's your girlfriend like? The other guys probably just want the dirty details but you look happy, man. I'd love to know more about her if you'd like to tell me about her? Nix and I both would."

Under their gentle smiles and easy demeanors it's almost too easy to state all of the ways Mickey adores you. He probably sounds like a broken, stuck record, prattling on and on about your soft hair, sweet smile and your big brain. He even pulls up one of your reviews to share and oh. Oh. He's in love with you. But he’s not sure how he’s going to tell you, not at all.

“Okay, you obviously love this girl.” Mickey can only nod at Natasha’s fondly amused tone. “So why aren’t you tracking her down to tell her so?”

For the first time in weeks, an idea starts to crystallize in his mind. “Would you guys be able to help me find her? She’s supposed to be reviewing one of the Halloween theme nights this weekend. But all Angel told me is something involving lycra.”

"Maybe she is going to wear lycra? Like for eighties jazzercise?" Mickey’s so excited he could kiss Bob for that suggestion. Sure enough there is only one place hosting an eighties theme night this weekend. It would be too much to hope that he could manage to go alone. Because the minute Bob’s found the club, Hangman is right there to start planning a night of it. Before too long, Mickey’s quest to tell his Angel how he really feels has turned into a Dagger’s night out and a complete and total mess.

Come Saturday night, Mickey’s one of the first Daggers ready to leave base and head out for the night. He's not wearing anything too out of the ordinary, opting for a wide collared shirt, and trousers. The one difference is how his curls cascade over his forehead and the retro shades covering his eyes. It doesn't surprise Mickey at all to see Natasha appear in the parking lot minutes later dressed in lycra and a leotard, big puffy hair, sweatbands, leg warmers and all. Bob wearing a turtleneck and slacks and Reuben when he finally drives up is dressed like Mickey is. But the true surprises of the Daggers seem to be Rooster and Hangman who walk up side by side in matching leggings, leotards, wristbands and headbands. Javy appears sedately behind the duo, dressed similarly to Bob.

Mickey feels kind of like the Ringmaster of a particularly rowdy circus as he leads the way into the club not longer after. It feels like entering an alternate universe. The music is so loud he feels it in his bones. Everyone’s wearing bright colors and dressed like they stepped right out of the 80s. There are more than a few people wearing lycra like Nat, Hangman and Rooster. Already, Mickey can feel the thrum of the beat in his blood. But as much as he’d like to dance, he’s a man with a mission.

He melts into the crowd before Nat and Hangman are back with the first round. If he knows you correctly, and he thinks he does, you’ll be right in the middle of the dance floor. You’ve said it a hundred times, that the center of the dance floor is where you can get the best idea of what the mood is for a club. Sure enough, he finds you in the center of the dance floor. 

The sight of you, it takes his breath away. Lit up by the glow of the lights, you look ethereal. Your eyes are closed as your body moves to the beat.  Much like Nat, you’re in leggings and a leotard too, your hair a halo of curls around your head. But your leotard is more than a little sexier, only a scrap of fabric covering your breasts. You look like sin, your bare arms sparkling under the neon lights as beads of sweat drip down your neck. It’s obvious all the other men on the dance floor want you for themselves too, because one after the other, they keep trying to grind up on you. 

When your eyes open, they glimmer with rage, rage you rightfully use to push the wandering hands off of your skin. Rage that melts into a sweet O of surprise when you see him standing there.

“Miguel?” Here’s another reason why he loves you. The way you say his name is like music. He takes your hand just as the beats of an all too familiar song pound through the speakers.

Jitterbug

Jitterbug

Jitterbug

Jitterbug

"Hi, Angel." Mickey's voice would be barely audible were it not for the way he murmurs the words right into your ear. "I missed you."

You look flattered at his innocent admission, and Mickey's not sure why. 

"I remember you saying something about an Eighties Dance Night. It didn't take long to find this place."

To your credit, you let Mickey twirl you around the dance floor for a few more seconds before you pretty glistening lips part.

"Why do you miss me, Miguel?" You look like you're almost scared of the answer you're going to get. So instead, Mickey croons the lyrics of the song playing into your ear.

"You take the grey skies outta my way (ooh-ooh)

You make the sun shine brighter than Doris Day

You turned a bright spark into a flame (yeah-yeah)

My beats per minute never been the same"

Now there's understanding in your beautiful eyes and as much as Mickey wants to turn tail and hide, instead a glorious smile takes over your face. He doesn't object at all as you drag him outside. In the quiet, he finally, finally hears the staccato rush of your frenzied breaths, calming in tune to your own.

“Mickey, I …” You look lost all of a sudden and Mickey can’t stand to see that look on your face. So he steps forward and kisses you, slow and sweet, pouring all of his pent up feelings into the soft, tender kiss.

“Angel, please. This once, can I talk?” At your nod, he continues. “I know you just wanted some fun, and that was what I wanted too. But sweetheart, I can’t do this anymore. Cielito, it hurts too much.”

Your face falls at his words, and he can almost see the walls come up around your heart.

“I’m almost certain I’m in love with you, and I can’t stand that you’ve left me sleepin' in my bed. I was dreamin' but I should've been with you instead. Wake me up before you go-go. Don't leave me hanging on like a yo-yo.” Your giggle when Mickey starts singing the song is far better than your tears would have been.

“You’re a sap, Miguel Garcia.” But even as you say the words, you’re stepping into his arms. You taste like strawberries as he sucks on your plush lips and it's a taste he's not sure he'll ever get tired of. “I’m pretty sure that I’m falling in love with you too.”

"Come home with me, baby? And stay the night?" Your grin and nod makes his smile feel like a mile wide as he calls an Uber. You’re all over him on the drive to the base gate and all of a sudden it feels like the world is still. Because you’re in his apartment, and then on his bed, the scrap of fabric covering your tits riding up until it’s not covering anything at all. Your moan is musical, too, as he leaves wet kisses over his skin. But Mickey’s sure he likes you best when you’re completely naked and in his arms, a sheen of sweat over your soft skin as you pant against his chest. Your mind looks to be finally, completely silent, and your lips are pillow soft as you press soft kisses over his heart.

“Miguel?” Your voice is a little rough, vocal cords rubbed raw as you snuggle in closer.

“Yeah, Angel?” Mickey’s sure he’ll never get tired of you, not when you’re blinking sleepily at him.

“Take me out for brunch in the morning?” For some reason your sleepy words make him happier than he’s felt in a long time.

“I can do that, beautiful. But you’ll have to wear my clothes. I don’t think that lycra set of yours should be worn in public, ever again.” He has to stifle his chuckles when all he hears is a soft snuffling snore. There’s no way you’re going out dancing without him tonight. You’re too worn out. Is it a crime that he likes you that way?

Taglist:

@chaoticassidy @kmc1989 @shanimallina87 

@mayhemmanaged @desert-fern @cassiemitchell 

@dakotakazansky @roosterforme @cherrycola27 

@thedroneranger @mak-32 @beyondthesefourwalls 

@sarahsmi13s @horseshoegirl

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED ON ANY SITES OTHER THAN HERE, ON WATTPAD, OR ON AO3 BY ME. IF YOU SEE MY WORKS ANYWHERE OTHER THAN HERE, ON WATTPAD, OR AO3, THEN THEY HAVE BEEN POSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND I WILL BE WORKING TO TAKE THEM DOWN.

[gorbalsvampire]

𝖃𝕴𝕴𝕴 𝕿𝖆𝖑𝖊𝖘 𝖋𝖗𝖔𝖒 𝕱𝖊𝖚𝖉𝖆𝖑 𝕭𝖔𝖍𝖊𝖒𝖎𝖆

𝔄𝔠𝔱 ℑℑ, 𝔰𝔠𝔢𝔫𝔢𝔰 𝔳 𝔢𝔱 𝔳𝔦

Our story arrives at the traditional two-part end-of-season finale-type wham episode. It wasn't planned this way, but it turned out I'd overplanned slightly and there was a knot of "I know what you need to know but I can't tell you what to ask for" we needed to pick our way past to resolve things and we were all too sleepy, so we split this session right down the middle and it was the correct decision to make. Oh lord, was it ever the correct decision to make.

This is gonna run long. Put a brew on. Make one for me while you're in there - Earl Grey, oat milk, no sugar. Big mug. No, the big mug - there you go. Perfect.

We begin in the monastery of St. Lawrence, on Petrin Hill, where Brother Marsillius is tending to the wounded knight and also sipping from his dressings because the Lord helps those who help themselves. Said knight has regained consciousness, and introduces himself as Christof, a second son on his way to join the muster of the Sword Brethren for crusade into pagan Livonia.

Alas, he was waylaid in the woods outside Prague: some demon, with great paws and a scaled hide and baleful red eyes, set upon him and gouged him without mercy. Marsillius recognised this as a vodnik - a water creature that comes in many forms and does not usually attack travellers without provocation. Christof confessed he might have swung first, but - he is here to fight the enemies of the Lord, is he not?

Christof thanked him for his ministrations and asked if, perhaps, now that he could walk again, there was some small duty he could do? Even if not the sword, some work to which he might put his idle hands?

Marsillius also saw an opportunity, or perhaps experienced a craving. Seeking permission from his sire, he produced a potion of sorts - a muddle of herbs and vitae that would, he swore, aid noble Christof in his recovery. In return, said Garinol, Christof was to visit the Cathedral of St. Vitus and transcribe the inscription from a reliquary that Garinol could not bear to handle.

Marsillius and Christof experienced a very godly and heterosexual moment. That's what the notes say.

We needed a brief moment of OOC time here, to re-establish exactly why everyone was going to Vysehrad. It helps to keep everyone aware of all the threads and stakes going into a resolution, and also to refresh the memory of decisions made weeks ago in real time.

To summarise: Marsillius' premonition suggested he should go to the mountain and Alzbeta was going too, to pray with him. Theodericus was worried about his friends, and Libussa, and Shaagra. Mariam needed to prove there was nothing evil in the ghetto, and to confirm her Compulsion-induced belief that All This Shit Was Connected, and also her cat was up that mountain somewhere.

As Mariam and Marsillius had an awkward conversation - she can't read him at all, but no doctrine on either of their parts says they can't be friends. This was the first time, I think, that she'd admitted these people were her friends. She wanted to make right what she'd done to Katya, or caused to be done - nobody deserves to live forever as a tongueless, silent possession. Alzbeta arrived, and then Theodericus, and gosh, when he walks up with his travelling cloak and his chainmail, his long sword and his short sword and his eating knife with their lion's head pommels, suddenly it's possible to take him seriously. The age of chivalry is almost upon us, and the stories are already starting to be told; Mariam was genuinely awed by the sight of this actual knight.

The coterie made their way along the south road, by the banks of the Vitava, sneaking out of the city without lights to avoid the Prince hearing of their departure. A mist was rising off the river, and the going was hard. I should add, at this point, that it's a long and tricky enough walk to Vyserhad, on a short summer night, that nobody had a chance to feed before they left - so Alzbeta was sharply hungry at 4, and nobody was below 2.

Along the road they passed a decrepit watermill, and the two Cainites leading the way - Mariam with Eyes of the Beast, Alzbeta with Heightened Senses - pulled up sharp. Something was watching. Something in the rafters with eyes as red as either of theirs. Mariam stared it down, sheer heft and silent fury incarnate, and when she showed a Messy Critical, the watcher's will broke first; something tumbled, and fell into the stream, and was gone into the river proper in a flash. Some vast and terrible fish. Something Marsillius also recognised; the vodnik is said to take many forms, among them a pawed and scaled fiend, an old man with a ragged beard and a green felt hat, and a pike of unusual size.

The lights of Vyserhad were visible, ahead and above - so many lights. Torches and candles lining the crenellations, the battlements carved from the living mountain. A path, winding to and fro up and up. A gatehouse, and atop it a grotesque, a winged shape with vast owlish eyes, seven feet tall and not even standing upright, and - it was moving. It knew they were coming.

In the end, it was Theodericus that stepped up: they were guests and, as such, must introduce themselves. Such courtesy (and dots in Etiquette, dump skill my ass) did not go unrewarded. Szarka, warlord of the Fiends, descended with a powerful leap and greeted the visitors; trifold jaws and a foot-long tongue choked out a welcome. Mariam's lack of respect for the Prince, and Alzbeta's talk of visions, were the deciders; Szarka took them in.

Through the winding streets of Vyserhad, the Citadel; dense and shuttered, flickering candles and restless dreams all around. To the square before the immense Gothic basilica, the Cathedral of St. Peter and St. Paul, the most nodular and extravagant architecture in the city: as though the stone itself wished for a more outlandish shape.

In the square before it, a dead tree hung with climbing orange flowers. At the foot of the tree, bare earth, and on that earth a throne, and on that earth, barefoot and languid, Libussa. Theodericus took a knee and Alzbeta dropped a curtsey before Mariam and Marsillius could even ask who this was.

She was attended by guards - orange surcoats and splinted leather, or the wide hats and staves of the wandering Chods - and by a second Fiend. This Depolt, tall and rangy, arms hanging a foot longer than is normal and four more twitching within his robes, bade them welcome in a voice semi-consistently resembling that of David Warner, and extended to them the hospitality of Clan Tzimisce.

Nervous, Marsillius chose to Sense the Unseen, and lord, did he ever sense it! The comforting light-without-light, warmth-without-warmth of the Basilica ahead, and all around, all around, beneath and below, the mountain - dark, watchful, aware, seeing him and them through every flame. Our poor boy bare shat himself, had he but been living, and tried to sneak into the Basilica to be with his God.

Libussa's head snapped round, and a voice not quite her own asked what he was about. He spoke to her of visions; of a calling from God that brought him to this mountain, and his need to pray. Alzbeta spoke of experiences much the same. And Libussa asked them if she was the royal nun the rumours spoke of (she is not; that honour belongs to Sister Agnes), and if he had seen what she had seen; been seen by what saw her.

Here follows a break between sessions. We wrapped up by establishing everyone's immediate Desires for next time. Alzbeta was discovering things about herself and God, and she wanted to know more of the Tzimisce and their ways. Marsillius was afraid, mortally afraid, and wanted to get onto consecrated ground where he was safe. Mariam was disgruntled; none of these people save for Szarka spoke plainly, and she wanted to speak to Szarka, protector to protector. Theodericus was concerned: although the Tzimisce didn't seem as monstrous and horrible as he'd been warned, Libussa still seemed ill-treated, and he wanted to ensure her well being. She was, after all, a queen. And everyone wanted more meat crimes; it was felt that I could be going harder. I still find Koldunic Sorcery more interesting than Vicissitude, but let it not be said that ol' Relleytrots doesn't take feedback...

To ease the pressure and create some better scenes, oh some absolute scenes, we (I) divided the coterie. Depolt sensed the Hunger radiating off Alzbeta, and invited her and Theodericus to dine with him; what kind of host would he be if he did not?

Libussa rose from her throne and expressed, to the air at large, that she was so tired, may she rest now? thus confirming to Marsillius that she was not in control of her own form. He recalled that she often slept on sacred ground, and asked if they could see inside the Basilica. Alas; no. Ground sacred to the White Christ is not for Tzimisce to walk upon. But Marsillius was free to try, and the Tzimisce looked... expectant. Anticipatory, even.

This left Mariam alone with Szarka, whose form imploded on itself, buckling and collapsing into a body more human, a little shorter than Mariam, patagia wings indistinguishable from sleeves, that furry mass behind her shoulders merely a fine stole, ignore that her dress is the flushed red of a blush and that her tongue is still a foot long.

Marsillius first, inside the Gothic magnificence of the Basilica, seeing and feeling Libussa's steps become lighter and more hesitant with every stair they climbed. He ended up carrying her to the altar, laying her down before Peter and Paul and Christ, and asking her, in hesitant tones: who is doing this to her?

And Libussa answered, clearer than she'd ever been before: magna mater, blood of my blood, queen of my world, the goddess Shaagra, the Dragon of Prague. She who gave Libussa the gift of prophecy; she who claimed two older sisters and two eldest sons. She whose blood was the Premsyl blood, and the secret of Libussa's four hundred years of life. And Libussa was - is - so old. So tired. May she not rest? Is there not more toil?

Marsillius, tormented - for this is how he preys, and this is the Lord's work that he does, to feed upon the dying and ease their passage from the world - asked: can she be stopped? If she is waking, can Shaagra be stopped?

Libussa does not know why you would want that. Libussa must sleep, now.

Smash cut. Mariam and Szarka, outside. The realisation that I've fucked myself with Szarka and Shaagra and, in everyone's consciousness, Sorcha. I should have used Valasca, but I got so hooked on the murder valley...

Mariam and Szarka had their heart to heart. It was a beautiful conversation: long silences and long thought, speaking true and from the heart. Mariam wanted to know if there was evil in the Josefov, or threat to it and to her people; to those she called friends; to the people of Prague. Szarka took her time to answer carefully, for hers is the Road of the Beast - she does not dissemble.

Evil in the Josefov? Not of her doing or her family's. Threat to the Josefov? Not by her will; no grievance there. Threat to the city? To others? Who can say? When the Dragon wakes, she will be hungry, but her hunger will be sated first in Vysehrad.

If it comes to blows, these two will be enemies, but they were able, here and now, to talk as kindred spirits. Mariam expressed her concern that Prince Brandl thought the threat to Prague was coming from her clan and people, and Szarka explained that he has always feared and mistrusted Zvi and the Jews; that if he spilled their blood it would not be on the hands of the Tzimisce.

There followed a discussion of who owns the city. Szarka, maiden of Valasca's revolt, warlord to Libussa the first princess of Prague, saw the city as theirs - that is to say, the Tzimisce's. Mariam, a farmer's daughter, saw a continuity: those lands she grew up tilling would never be hers again, they are her father's, and will be his son's, and their son's. What was is passed. What was built by you is not yours forever.

Both of them acknowledged they sounded like their sires. Perhaps there's something there.

For now, their conversation was over, and Mariam went inside the Basilica.

Meanwhile, by the Devil's Column on the north face of the mountain, Depolt and Alzbeta shared stories - Depolt told the tale of how the Devil was cheated and threw down this pillar on the mountainside in rage, and Alzbeta explained how her mother, in madness and fear, had pushed her into the fire to make her form less desirable to men. There was some sympathy there; perhaps she was merely mad.

Depolt explained that he could take those scars - if she wished it - but he understood if she did not wish it, if the body was where the memory was written. There followed a discussion of Disciplines, of moulding the mind and body, and a demonstration of the particularly visceral Feral Weapons to which Depolt had access. These two also have a spark between them - a tendency toward philosophy.

But then the men in splinted leather brought out a family from their home; a woman and her adult sons. A test for both visitors; Alzbeta, the Consensualist, and Theodericus, the Ventrue. Both took their lumps; Alzbeta two Stains, for doing what she did even with a prayer for the prey and letting Theodericus do the same, and Theodericus two Willpower hits, for the weight of his Bane descending. He confided, as they walked back to the square, that he found biting people like that - just like that - rather cruel, and rather crass, and most untidy. Alzbeta, shaking, could not discuss it, and fearing she would have another vision, Theodericus bore her with haste to the Basilica.

Here was Marsillius, and here was Libussa, so very tired. Would he do what he felt bound to do? But here was Mariam, walking in alarmed, saying he and Alzbeta had been right. There was something waking in the mountain, and it was dangerous, but was it something they did not want? Would they let whatever came come, and deal with the aftermath? Would fighting only make things worse?

Marsillius wondered aloud if they should warn the Prince, evacuate the city, at least warn him to quit the city - but if he did, said Mariam, he would come back and find it in others' hands and besiege it, and that would be worse. Prince Brandl was bound to do something stupid, and to blame his rivals, and the visionaries - Alzbeta and Marsillius - were complicit in that, to a degree.

What if they simply removed Prince Brandl? Would they be better off, asked Mariam?

Marsillius looked down at Libussa, maddened and weary, ancient and possessed, and asked in answer: "do you think this is better?"

Stirring in her sleep, Libussa seemed to recognise that Mariam was Jewish - they'd mentioned the rabbi in their conversation - and murmured something about that poor old man, about the Prophet of Kupala, about what she'd seen that night in May-time. That got Mariam worked up, and she strode out, intent on asking the Tzimisce which of you is Kupala's prophet -

Instead, she found Theodericus and the worrying Alzbeta, and as they hastened back inside to confer, Alzbeta dropped her bombshell: "the Prophet of Kupala is my sire."

She described him as resembling Brother Marsillius in passing - older, more haggard, less well kept - and as Marsillius spoke of his desire to save Libussa somehow, to take her from this place or grant her rest with the Kiss, Alzbeta broke down fully. She had already fed here. She had not been able to quiet that scratching dry Hunger in her throat. She had fed upon the unwilling, and - was she damned? was she evil?

That question, in this place, and the concurrent loss of Humanity? That changed things. Libussa rose, and intoned her prophecy in a voice they had not heard before:

Faith defiled shall lead you to me. Innocent blood shall lead me to you.

And within the foundations of the Basilica, within the bowels of that sacred place, they all heard it - crack.

Exit coterie, pursued by a fear. Mariam racing to warn the Jews. Alzbeta and Marsillius, clinging to each others' hands in fear of God and something worse. Theodericus, with Libussa in her arms, convinced at last that she needed to be saved - and, as the players remarked as the tension bled, they'd need her.

Here ends Act II - She Only Speaks In Exposition

Join us next week for Act III - We Gotta Kill The Prince Yesterday

[someone-who-loves-kpop-saranghae]

Under the Christmas tree

Under the Christmas tree

Christmas Oneshot

Bangchan x Reader

🎄✨🎄✨🎄✨🎄✨🎄✨🎄✨🎄✨🎄✨🎄

"Hey, Y/n!" You heard Bangchan say.

"Wha- Huh?" you stuttered, surprised by him. He smirked.

"I asked you if you want to go buy a christmas tree today" he said, chuckling. You smiled.

"Sure! I'd love to, Channie" You stood up and started to clean the breakfast stuff of the table.

After you two had cleaned up and got dressed, you stepped outside the door. You took a big breath.

"The air is so clean today" you said and looked behind you. Chan watched you spinning around in the snow.

"It is" he said smiling and went to the car. Then he wiped away the snow from the windscreen of his black car and opened it.

It was a cold saturday morning, everywhere was snow. It has snowed over night, what was pretty nice, because you loved snow. Especially during christmas time.

You saw Chan waving from the car at you and you laughed and went to the car. Then you sat inside and closed the door. As soon as you closed the door, Chan started the car and drove to the City.

"Channieee?" you asked innocent after 10 minutes. His eyebrows raised.

"Yeah?" he asked, a bit suspicious. You blinked multiple times.

"Can I play some christmas music?Pleaseeeee?" you asked and smiled extra pretty. What made him laugh.

"Of course, my little christmas evel" he chuckled. You clapped happily and paired your phone with the car's stereo. Then you played 'Last Christmas' by Wham! and sand along loudly. Surprisingly, he sang along too, what made you happy.

15 minutes later, you arrived at the tree-selling.

After you left the car, you walked around the place and watched some trees before you twl got yourself a hot wine.

Then you saw one tree, which was a little smaller than the others, but which was a lot prettier in your eyes. Everyone avoided that tree, because he was kinda not normal, but he was perfect for you two. So after Chan and you went to that tree to look at it, you went to a sells person and talked to him that you wanted to buy it.

The guy put the tree in a net and gave it to you. "I love our new tree" you said as you sat in the car again. "Me too" Chan replied.

The drive back, you sang along to some christmas songs again until it began to snow. You smiled happily and watched the snow fall down.

As you arrived home, Chan took the tree and brought it in your Appartment. He took it into the holder and after you had washed yourself and dressed in some christmas clothes, you put the decoration box out. He helped you to bring it downstairs. Then, when everything was downstairs, you unpacked the tree.

You shrieked as the tree unfold itself and Chan laughed at you, but then you started to decorate it.

You talked about this and that while hanging decoration on the trees needles. As you had put the lights on, you turned them on and decorated from down to the upper tree. Down there, you were perfectly able to hang the stuff on the tree, but when in got higher, you had a few problems reaching the high points. You stretched out, trying your best.

While Bangchan was just standing next to you, watching you struggle and laughing at your behavior.

"Will you please stop laughing at me, BangChan?!" you said, a bit pouty.

"You could help me instead!" you said and shrieked as he lifted you up out of nowhere and sat you on his shoulders.

"Don't let me fall, please!" you shrieked, while he just continued laughing his ass off.

Sitting up there, on his shoulders, you could perfectly reach the upper side of the tree while he gave the decoration stuff up to you.

As you were done with the decoration, only the final star on the tip of the tree was left. He lifted it up to you, humming to 'All I want for christmas is you'.

You took it and while singing "All I want for christmas...is..." you moved the star closer to the tip.

"Youuuuuu" you sang and put the star on the tree's tip. Chan clapped beneath you and you grabbed his hair, trying not to fall by his sudden movement.

"Hey!" he shouted and ran to the sofa. You shrieked but he held your legs pressed on to his chest, holding you save.

Then he stopped at the sofa, throwing you on it. "He-AH" you tried to complain but he had started to poke all around your midsection, making you struggle to talk.

"Channie stooop" you whimpered, but he smirked devilish and scribbled over your sides softly, making you squirm and giggle softly.

"Channie nohohoho" you giggled and he stopped, looking content. Then he booped your nose and went to the kitchen, leaving you alone to clean up.

You shook your head in disbelieve and cleaned up the stuff you didn't need. Then you decorated the rest of the Apartment with light-chains, little santas, little trees, little stars and reindeers and candles.

As you were content, you cleaned up the rest and put the box in your closet. As you came back to the living room you saw your friend.

Chan was sitting there with two hot chocolates with marshmallows in his hands. He sat in front of the TV, where the cover picture of your favourite christmas movie, the Grinch, was shown.

You couldn't help but smile.

"I love you, Chan" You said and went to him, sitting next to him.

He handed you a hot chocolate.

"I love you too, Y/n" Chan said, smiled, and pressed the start button for the movie.

-End-

A/n: Hi! I hope you liked it... Was my fist fiction for a long time... Anyways, happy christmas time to you all, guys ꒰⁠⑅⁠ᵕ⁠༚⁠ᵕ⁠꒱⁠˖⁠♡

[the-peddito-and-doise-show]

PIZZAMANCER!! You can't give up! Control the Cheese Dragon and stop the rampaging brown!

"Rampaging? I prefer the term, renovating, if that’s what you mean! Keep settin’ those itty 🅱️itty 🅱️uckets of 🅱️olts into flames, 🅱️uster! 🅱️oag—"

WHAM! BAM!

> Suddenly, the cheese dragon stopped breathing fire—as two equally powerful threats that jeopardized his plans charged headfirst (literally for one of them) into its body; causing small amounts of explosions. "🅱️🅱️🅱️🅱️🅱️🅱️🅱️OOOOOOOAAAAAAAGGGGGGG!!!" Both The Original 🅱️oise and the army of 🅱️oise clones shrieked, obviously not expecting this to happen. > The 🅱️oise clones retreated from the scene, not wanting to also be beaten up as well, while The Original 🅱️oise’s hot air balloon (and himself too) got blown away by the following explosions.

CRACKLE, CRACKLE!

> The cheese dragon, in retort to being hit multiple times in the body, now breathed fire onto Peddita & Doise; igniting the two on… well, fire.

ZAP!

> Fortunately, before the dopey-looking dragon made of lumpy cheese could hurt the two too bad, it was hit with a blinding beam of light—being knocked away into one of the NTV city’s buildings.

"We’re with you guys, whether you like it or not!" Doise Chan said, catching up to the two of them along with other familiar friends as well. "Ayyyy, now that’s what I’m talking about!" > (If Peddito were here, he would’ve commented about how cheesy the dialogue has become. Alas, he was still beating up the pizza-faced sorcerer in the background.) Dorigin: "Yeahhh!!! DTV never dies!!!" > Doisey, hearing this statement, bounced up and down excitedly just as ever. Doisette: "So, Pissamancer said its own smarts are its own weakness?"

"It would seem so… we can’t celebrate for too long though, or else it’ll strike back while we’re—"

> Cutting off Golden Pizzaboy’s sentence, the cheese dragon reared its ugly head out in the open; preparing to breathe fire on not only two—but now all of them at the same time. "YYYYYYYYYYOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGG!!!"

"LET’S KICK IT TO HEAD GEAR!"

> With that being said in mind, the group of bluish (including one of them who was green) bootlegs and essential beings then charged at the scorching flames. Call them foolish, or simply foolhardy, but they were determined to crash down both The Original 🅱️oise & the cheese dragon’s party.

[raayllum]

thinking about these lines in particular bc good god, man

Karim’s sure fire focus on the end, so much like Viren, where he only sees his people restored through his own glorious hand because the end is all that matters, even as a child to adulthood:

Karim could see that line, unprotected and waiting for him. They only needed to reach it. [...] He had memorized the runes. The spell, its words, its motions. He had visualized it countless times: the orb restored by his hand in a display of magic so brilliant it would light the city’s poisoned sky like a golden sunrise.

The persistent idea of loss and how he rails against it (which, no wonder the Soul Candle ceremony is so important, when he lost a friend recently too alongside his eldest sister)

Stars. Just stars, obviously (+ bonus “game motif” of playing a game as children, and then it’s very much not to boot / “yes, mages were his prey”)

WHAM. Someone slammed into Karim’s side. He went down hard. But we’re going to win, he thought, blinking stars out of the noon sun. Someone tore the banner from his grasp. We have to win. 

We have to win, Karim told himself. The writhing, tainted darkness of Lux Aurea’s night sky spread infinitely above him, the stars all swallowed up inside it.

They did not stop until they reached a dry riverbed far, far past the last of Lux Aurea’s golden gates. They could see the stars again, the violet tinge of twilight behind them. It would be dawn soon. 

Never mind that nothing good ever happens at dawn in this show (Sarai and the queens of duren’s deaths, Callum’s possession, etc) + bonus river/water motif (although it’s dry). 

Tainted by darkness, corruption, continually (“the writhing, tainted darkness of Lux Aurea��)

At dusk, every shadowed corner of Lux Aurea erupted with—he struggled to find words for them—monsters. Some of them he could almost call familiar, like horses and banthers, but they were changed. Like the sun orb itself, the abominations rippled with corruption, with tainted magic so vile that light itself seemed to bend to avoid its touch.

After darkness, light. [...] He hardly heard her. I can save him, Karim thought. I can save all of us. Nothing is lost! Karim’s mind raced and found a light to cling to: the spell—the cleansing spell!

Which also fits with his emphasis on light (and tradition) in his original short story from Vol. 1, “The Queen’s Soul”:

Karim’s chest tightened. “It is never too late. We must honor our traditions, now and always! They are the light that will guide our way out of this darkness.”

Janai spoke with a brutal honesty that cut him like a blade. “Her soul – it is lost.”

“No. It merely waits, Sister. It waits for us,” Karim urged. “We must guide her back to the Sun.”

The constant emphasis and comparisons to sickness and infection, also tying in lines from the Book One novelization in terms of how the Moonshadow elves respond to Rayla: 

“Your wound,” announced Tijana, staggering away from Osato. “That’s— that must be how it spreads. Like an infection!” [...] The corruption wriggled like worms under his skin, snaking further with every beat of his heart, down towards his hand and up to his shoulder. “Cut it off,” he shouted. “Cut off my arm, before it spreads!”

"Runaan, you know that weakness is an infection," the third elf said so angrily he was spitting. "You must cut it out!" (book one novelization)

He could still see it: the top of the Sunforge Tower, upside-down from where he lay, shrouded in inky corruption. It looked ill, its sickness weeping red and crowning the spire in a haze of blood. [...] All around them, he could hear the sound of battle down every alleyway, around every corner, the worst of the bloodshed mercifully shrouded by the night’s darkness. How many had they already lost? Karim felt sick, desperate, weak. [...] Karim took a last look back at the ailing heart of Lux Aurea atop the Sunforge Tower.

Which, continual heart motif even over storms, thank you kindly, as well as the red equalling sickness, and Karim literally putting on the red glove of his sick, dead friend by the end of the story. 

Karim waited until he could no longer hear the sound of her boots before he let himself weep. He wept for Osato as he buried him, marking his grave with a circle of stones. He wept for his city, his people, and the darkness struck deep into their hearts.

As well as Karim’s parallels to Claudia - the younger sibling, unable to accept change, unable to accept that they cannot save everyone they love with their magic, likewise poisoned with sickness and corruption and losing/finding  (“Stay safe, and stay in the light. Don’t follow me, and don’t look for me. I don’t think you’ll find me, anyway.” Dear Callum)

The corrupted elves drew closer. Osato stepped towards them, a desperate captain reaching for his soldiers, but Tijana seized Osato by the arm. “Don’t. They are lost. But we’re still alive.”

“Lost? They are our kin! They are not dead!” Karim protested. “They might still be saved! All of us can still be saved! We must—”

“I will banish that darkness,” Karim swore to Osato’s grave. “I swear it, Osato. Lux Aurea will not die with you. We will be whole again. By the Sun, we will be whole.”

And last but not least because TDP hates me, specifically

Karim stepped towards them, peering closely, and his eyes fell upon Osato’s wound. The moon, he realized, had played a cruel trick. Osato’s blood was not simply dark in the moonlight… It was black.

as well as

“Do not speak as if you mourn him!” Karim snapped, overcome. “You killed him!”

Tijana spoke softly, almost at a whisper. “He was my friend.”

Anyway this short story was extremely fucked and i am both scared and excited to see the literal ramifications it has for both the Sunfire elves and Janai/Amaya and Karim, as well as the possible broader implications for S5, dark magic, Aaravos, and possession plot line as a whole

[apomaro-mellow]

(1) The Mall Car

Steve and Eddie take a lil ride on the Infinity Train, plus someone else. Author's note at the bottom.

With a groan, Steve sat up and opened his eyes. His mind immediately recognized his surroundings as a mall and for a moment he panicked and thought he was back at Starcourt. But no, this was different. There was a fountain, and the lights were bright, but the stores and their placement were a little different.

Steve rubbed his eyes but stopped when he saw the glowing of his hand as Eddie sat up nearby.

150

That was the number glowing on his hand right now. Steve tried shaking it off, rubbing it on his pants, even picking at it with his fingers. It was like a radioactive tattoo.

“What the fuck?”, Eddie breathed out as he took it all in. “Where did you take us?”

“Me? I have no goddamn idea what’s going on!”, Steve shouted.

Eddie stretched, which brought his own glowing palm to his attention. “Huh. Uhhh, what does 271 mean? Did I take a ticket from a deli?”

“Is that really your first idea?”

“We are in an empty mall, not a lot of choices”, Eddie said. 

“Yeah but why are we in an empty mall? Weren’t we just…? We were just on the road.”

“Did you turn off to get something from the mall?”

Steve pushed off the ground and tried to survey the surroundings but yep, all he saw was mall interior. “That makes no sense. There’s no mall between here and the airport. Not after the fire.”

----------------------------

[Amelia] I’ve noticed a pattern, as I watch these tapes to understand the passengers  Everyone who comes is always about to make a choice. Sometimes it’s a choice to leave. Sometimes they’re choosing to do nothing. Regardless, it is a choice that could change their lives. They’re at a crossroads, one might say.

Everybody had already seen them off at the school, including all of Eddie’s friends. Vecna had been defeated and in the months that followed, they’d all had some recovery. Eddie was able to walk away with some massive scarring and a GED. And now he was getting out of Hawkins to seek his fortune in New York.

With his van being demolished, he was getting a ride to the airport from Steve. It wasn’t the first favor Steve had provided, both of them spending months getting closer and closer. What started as sharing a room in the hospital, turned to frequent visits when Steve was discharged.

What began as debates on what constituted literature turned into sharing each other’s favorite books, and of course the same happened with music. Eddie still posited that Wham! had no cultural value but his secret cassette was in his suitcase.

Days spent with Steve’s house filled to the brim with high schoolers turned into nights with just the two of them, talking about things they never told anyone.

Eddie’s fantasies of one night stands with a handsome but familiar stranger turned into daydreams of what could be dates.

Steve’s dream of a wife and a picket fence slowly but surely turned into something more flexible.

But now Eddie was leaving. Going all the way to what was basically the other side of the world. And there he was sure to meet much more interesting people. Guys who understood what he was talking about all the time. Who looked much more at home during a metal performance and not like they’d peaked in high school.

“You’re really doin’ it man. You’re getting out of this town”, Steve said as he drove down the street.

“I can’t believe it either. Next time you hear from me, I’ll be in the city that never sleeps!”, Eddie exclaimed. He rolled his window down as they got to the welcoming sign of the town. “Fuck you Hawkins!! Good riddance and goodbye!”

“Hey, don’t piss off the environment. The rest of us still have to live here”, Steve said. “What’s that thing Argyle talks about? Karma?”

“You guys have a whole squad of monster hunters”, Eddie grinned at him. “Whatever karma is, I bet you could beat it into submission.” He let out a breath as he sunk back into the seat. “I’ll finally be free of this shit hole. No looking back.”

“Yeah…”, Steve said softly. His mouth opened to say something else but he closed it. They came to a railroad crossing just as the barriers were going down and Steve stopped. 

The train got closer and closer until the cars began passing by them in a blur. Eddie’s eyes narrowed. Normally trains slowed a little when they were crossing a road. But then this train did slow. To a complete stop. The doors opened on the car in front of them but it showed no interior, just a strange portal of light.

Eddie sat up. “Uhh.”

“Stay in the car”, Steve said as he put it in park and got out to investigate. He got closer to it and looked around. It was like the train went on forever. Steve reached out towards the portal when Eddie slapped his hand away.

“Don’t touch it!”

“I thought I told you to stay in the car!”

“The last time you went soloing you nearly got eaten to death!”, Eddie shrieked.

“That was over a year ago”, Steve rolled his eyes.

“And the time before that, you go stuck in an elevator”, Lucas added. “Erica still takes the stairs to the dentist.”

“Does my word mean nothing? I said to stay in the car!”, Steve shouted.

No other words were said as the light engulfed them all.

---------------------------

“Lucas was with us!!”, Eddie exclaimed.

“Shit!”, Steve pulled at his hair. “I was taking him to a sports camp, that’s right. Lucas!”, he started to shout. He cupped his hands over his mouth. “Lucas!!”

“Um, Steve? St-teve?”, Eddie started smacking him lightly in the arm when some sort of creature crested from the top of the escalator.

Steve turned and saw…not a demodog but close in size to it. But whereas creatures of the Upside Down were slimy and fleshy, this thing looked more like an oversized cockroach. But it was just as faceless.

“Run”, Steve said before taking off in the other direction. 

He could hear Eddie’s stuttering steps behind him and then an inhumane chittering that must be from the creature. There had to be somewhere they could go. Somewhere they could hide. Steve just kept running until ahead of them was an odd red door. It didn’t look like the entrance to a store by any door could be an exit? Right?

Before getting to it though, Steve heard Eddie’s cry and a fall. He turned and to his horror saw that Eddie was struggling under the monster. Thinking quick, Steve looked around for a weapon. He went to the closest store and tore a leg off one of the mannequins. Eddie groaned as the creature’s feelers felt over him and it began sucking the energy from him.

“Fuck off!”, Steve shouted as he swung. He didn’t wait to see if the one hit did it. He just pulled Eddie to his feet and dragged him to the door. It opened oddly but once it did, they went through and shut it just as the monster lunged at them.

Both of them slid down, panting against the door and trying to make any sense out of what was happening. Then Steve started looking Eddie over.

“Hey? Are you okay? What did it do to you?”

“I’m okay man”, Eddie said, taking Steve’s hands. “That was a close one though. Thought you might leave me there.”

Steve’s brow pinched. “I wouldn’t just leave you”, he said with a shake of his head.

“Yeah…yeah, I know”, Eddie smiled. Then the numbers on Eddie’s palm began to change. From 271 to 265. “Well would you look at that? Any idea what that means?”

“None whatsoever”, Steve said. Then he actually looked at where they were. The wind whipped their hair as the train passed by a desolate, red wasteland.

“Iiiis this the Upside Down?”, Eddie asked, voice small.

Steve shook his head. He’d never seen anything like this. Not in Will’s drawings or Max’s.

“Jesus, Mary, Joseph! Did we die and go to hell?! Did we get hit by the train?!”

Steve looked across from them. There was a bridge connecting the cars. Which were incredibly humongous now. A fall from this height would kill them, nevermind the current speed of the car. 

“Eddie…I think this is the train.”

“Steve, I really don’t think my brain can take more of this. We were just in a mall! What kind of train has an ENTIRE mall?”

“The same kind that puts random numbers on your hand?”

Eddie began pacing in a circle and pulling at his hair. Steve was freaking too but even if they didn’t know where they were or what was going on, what they should do next was easy.

“Let’s keep it simple. Find Lucas. Find a way off this train. That’s only two steps.”

Eddie rolled his eyes and threw his hands up. “Well, if it’s only two!”

“Let’s go”, Steve said, walking towards the bridge.

“How do you know Lucas isn’t back that way?”, Eddie pointed towards the door they just went through.

“Do you wanna go back and deal with that thing?”

“After you, Your Highness”, Eddie bowed and swept his arm in the direction of the bridge.

They went across, coming to a door just like the one before. They opened it, and this time they came to rolling hills, covered with flowers as far as the eye could see. If there was a door to the other side of the car, it wasn’t visible where they were standing.

“We’re in for a long walk”, Eddie said.

Steve rolled his shoulders. “Let’s get moving then.”

Steve’s number: 150

Eddie’s number: 265

Next Episode: The Studio Car

A/N: If you've never seen Infinity Train, give it a watch, it's great! If you only care for info that's immediately relevant, watch Book 4 as this takes place right after. If you're curious but don't feel like watching the show, ask me all the questions you'd like! :D I'd be happy to answer them &lt;3

[redlegumes]

Dec 1st: Open Mic Night

Written for @steddieholidaydrabbles

prompt: Open Mic Night | AO3: link | wc: 474 | rating: T | cw: none | tags: open mic, karaoke, queer bar, holiday season, Christmas

Summary: Eddie is captivated by an singer on a holiday themed karaoke night at his favorite bar.

₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊

Eddie had bundled up and headed to his regular, small, queer friendly spot that evening. The place mostly did open mics and community anchored birthdays. It didn't have a huge presence in the city which was fine by Eddie, just dingy and dark enough that it felt home-y. Even on karaoke night.

He chatted with his buddy Gareth who was also there to take in the holiday singing spectacle. Neither of them were going to perform, they did that enough part time with their band, but Eddie watched a spirited Mariah and then some Wham!

Just as the bar was at it's fullest (for this kind of event anyway), a gorgeous boy in a dark green sweater and light wash jeans stepped up on stage. The sound booth guy announced him as Steve, and the lights on the back half of the shallow stage flicked on. Eddie recognized the piano that lived back there even if he didn't recognize the performer. Visiting one of the locals maybe?

More after the cut

Steve had voluminous hair, styled to look like effortless. His cheeks were pink, and Eddie couldn't help but imagine that blush that spread over his skin probably sported a deeper tan in the summer months. Steve began picking out a tune on the piano, and Eddie's eyes shot to Steve's even sweeter pink lips as he began to sing.

♫ Have yourself a merry little Christmas Let your heart be light Next year all our troubles, will be out of sight ♫

The bar had slowly quieted; the live piano drew in everyone's attention.

♫ Have yourself a merry little Christmas Make the Yuletide gay ♫

Steve winked at the brazenly at the audience, drawing laughs and a smattering of cheers. Shit. He knows he's cute.

♫ Next year all our troubles, will be miles away ♫

As quickly as he'd smiled, Steve's lips pressed tightly there. No troubles next year? Wouldn't that be something, Eddie thought in sarcastic agreement with the sentiment on Steve's face.

The crowd began to sing along with the last two verses, a sway settling over the mismatched queers gathered their to celebrate the season with cheap drinks and other outcasts. Steve sang the last lines wistfully. Eddie supposed they all did.

♫ Someday soon we all will be together If the fates allow Until then, we'll have to muddle through somehow So have yourself a merry little Christmas now ♫

His chest ached when Steve finished while the whole bar seemed to applaud. Eddie wasn't ready for Steve's voice to stop filling his ears. He worked his way toward the edge of the stage without a plan, and waited for Steve, holding out hand to help him down. Steve took it and met Eddie's gaze with the warm eyes of a man Eddie wanted nothing more than to muddle through with.

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