in which marco reus falls head over heels in love with a woman whose skin is much darker than his.
(completed in 2016, CURRENTLY BEING REWRITTEN in 2020)
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135,977 likes natashaclotaire: Merry Christmas, especially to men who don't cheat...let me be your gift 😘in @savagexfenty but emphasis on the savage...je vous souhaite à tous un joyeux Noël 💋 2,009 comments quavohuncho: 🤤🤤 saweetie: ...Anyways 🥵🥵 heard you badgalriri: BIG TASHA 😍😍 marcinho11: 🎁😍 therealkylesister: 🔥🔥🔥 poohsheisty: 🤤 ameliahuff: period 😩😍😍😍
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"Marco, what's so interesting that it keeps calling you back to your phone every five seconds?"
"What?"
"You heard me," Scarlett lifted an eyebrow, purposefully imitating Natasha's signature sass, "It's Christmas, I'm pregnant, and you're staring at Instagram like you might die tomorrow. I'd love to know what I'm missing out on?"
It'd been an entire month since Marco Reus saw Natasha in person, but it felt like years: still, Marco knew that it was his fault. After Scarlett had picked them up from the police station, where they were lucky that Marco's privilege and status left them free of citations for illegal drug consumption, he'd broken the news to her hard and fast: they were over. For good, this time. "Oh," the German hastily exited from Auba's Close Friends story, disappointed yet relieved that he hadn't updated it with any more videos of Natasha, before clearing his throat. "I was just checking...the weather."
"The weather?" His oldest sister, Melanie, burst into a fit of laughter. She was 41 years old; the same age as Natasha's remarkably young mother, who he knew was in town visiting her daughter. The more embarrassing aspect of his family circumstance picture was the fact that Marco's daughter, Ivanna, was 23 years old—and, in turn, he couldn't stop thinking about how he'd broken the young Natasha's heart all day long. After all, his niece was precious to him; if a man had ended things with her the way he did with Natasha, he'd want want more than just a word with him. But Natasha doesn't have anyone else to protect her like that, Marco kept telling himself. You were her protector, and that was your promise to her—yet you broke it. "If you look out the window, Marco, you'll see it's a pretty white fucking Christmas. What are you really doing, hm? Obsessing over Natasha?"
Marco could've scoffed, while the rest of his family fell silent with awkward tension; his mother, Manuela, quickly scolded her eldest daughter. "As I was saying," Scarlett neared him, knowing that she'd made a point enough—that she could tell what he was doing, even if the others in their family were too old or naive to—"Marco and I haven't discovered the gender of our baby yet, but with all of the most important people in our lives here in one room, we figured it would be the perfect time to get name suggestions from everyone."
Marco closed his eyes as Scarlett eased next to him on the loveseat, knowing that this meant that he could no longer whip his phone out and refresh Auba and Natasha's stories. He figured it was reasonable, that she and Cairo were spending Christmas in Dortmund with Aubameyang's family—but it was just as terrifying. They've known each other for years already, Marco remembered. Cairo already approves of Auba, and that's practically the hardest step in securing Natasha's heart. And they're both single—but he wouldn't, Marco repeatedly reminded himself. The drunken selfies and videos on his story threatened otherwise—the way Natasha and Auba danced to their Afrobeats, which was obviously something Marco would never be able to compete with —but after the pact they'd made, Marco trusted Aubameyang to stay away. Why, because you did the same thing?
