#tomorrow i slide into a 7 day work week | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

archangeldyke-all · 11 months

Note

sevika in relathionship so pretty so fluff

an maybe hard sex.... and if your comfortable chasekink you know

ty for the requests!! i hope u enjoy :)

men and minors dni

first! fluffy sev relationship hcs!

i think she'd be guarded at first

she's completely obsessed with u, and it would freak her out.

so at first, she'd keep you at a distance, scared of how soft you make her feel.

she'd limit you guys to one or two dates a week. (even though she wants to spend every waking moment with you.)

she wouldn't spend the night, wouldn't invite you to her place. (she's scared she might have a heart attack if she sees you comfortable and domestic in her own home.)

but after a while, she realizes you aren't going anywhere. she doesn't have to keep you away, because you want to be with her just as much as she wants to be with you.

once she works this out (like 2/3 months in) it's a complete flip.

like overnight, sevika goes from being a bit distant and closed off to a complete romantic sap.

she's always touching you, whether it's hanging off you as you do chores around the house, or sliding a hand in your back pocket while shopping together.

she spends almost every night with you. moves you into her apartment as soon as you let her.

she's always doing thoughtful little favors for you, without you even having to ask.

like she overhears a conversation you're having with a friend and you mention how you're craving food from a specific restaurant.so she goes out to get take out from that place for dinner that night.

if you're in the shower, she'll throw your towels in the dryer for you so they're toasty warm when you get out.

she's always buying you things, or building you things, or bringing home cool things to show you. (totally the type of gf to give you cool rocks.)

as far as sevika chasing u/ hard sex, here's a little something i cooked up for u... (ft. amab sevika... or she's just strapped with the breeding strap 24/7... it's up to u)

singed, silco, and sevika are constantly experimenting with different variations of shimmer for various desired effects. most of the time, it's singed and silco watching rats react to drops of the drug. but when they're satisfied with their trials and ready to test it on a larger subject, they'll call in sevika for help.

so one day, as sevika's leaving for work, she tells you that she'll be working late, to not worry if you don't see her for a while. you pout and ask her what'll be keeping her, she tells you her and 'the boys' were testing out some new variants. she kisses your pout away and promises to take you out for dinner over the weekend.

"should be interesting." she says, pulling her cloak over her head. "singed says the rats were goin' fuckin' crazy." you gulp.

"just be careful, sev." you plea, straightening her cloak out for her and tucking her hair behind her ears. she rolls her eyes. "don't roll your eyes. i want you back in one piece."

she leans into kiss you one final time. "don't worry baby. i'll see you tomorrow."

you wake up the next morning alone and cold. you curse your girlfriend for abandoning you, but go about your day without much concern.

when you get home that afternoon and sevika's still not back. you start to worry. when night falls and she's still not home, you throw on your coat and shoes and march down to the last drop.

you start getting more and more freaked the closer you get to the last drop. it's a friday night, and the usual crowd that would be lining the street to get in is nowhere to be seen. the neon eye isn't lit, and when you get to the front door, there's no lights on inside.

you try the handle.

nothing.

you knock.

nothing.

you're about five seconds away from breaking the glass when you hear the sound of the back door swinging open. sprinting around the building, you find silco and all his employees flooding out into the alley. all except sevika. silco freezes at the sight of you.

somewhere behind him, singed mumbles. "good, she's here."

terror seizes you.

"what did you do to her?" you demand.

"now, don't work yourself up into a tizzy, dear--" silco is cut off by a loud crash coming from inside the bar.

"there goes the barricade." ran mumbles. a few goons start to scatter, backing away from the bar then breaking out into sprints when more crashing begins. silco puts a hand on your shoulder, and singed begins to ramble behind him, nervously.

"sevika had an... unexpected reaction to the shimmer." silco slowly starts walking you backwards as singed continues to talk. glass shatters behind you. "it seems we may have accidentally triggered her, ahem..."

"her more primal instincts--" silco cuts in

"--yes! her primal instincts-- a little too intensely..."

"what does that mean?" you ask. silco laughs nervously.

"it's easier for you to just see for yourself." he says, guiding you through the doorway and into the back of the last drop. you snap around when you hear sevika's pained groan echo throughout the empty bar.

"where is she?" you demand. silco doesn't answer. you turn around to face him, but he's gone, and the back door is slamming in your face. "hey!" you say, pushing on the door. "what the fuck?" the door doesn't budge, and you can make out the shape of a dumpster being pushed in front of the exit through the frosted glass.

you blink in shock. what the fuck was happening?

you were quickly distracted by another whimper echoing through the halls. you took off into the bar, searching for sevika. "sev?" you call out. "sevika?" you made your way onto the dance floor, eyes scouring the trashed bar for your girlfriend. "sevika!"

a gasp sounds from behind the bar. you run over. "go away!" sevika growls. you ignore her, rounding the bar and crouching beside her where she's laying on the ground in the fetal position.

"it's me, baby, i'm here. what happened?" you ask, quickly putting your hands on her back, trying to turn her over.

"you need to get the fuck out of here, right now." sevika spits out. her voice is deep and raspy, and her shirt is soaked in sweat, the skin beneath it on fire. she seems... bigger somehow. like the shimmer added another ten pounds of muscle on top of her already chiseled body.

"what's going on baby?" you ask, tears running down your cheeks, pressing a kiss to her head. "tell me how i can help."

in the blink of an eye, sevika's flipping over and slamming you onto the ground, her mechanical hand encircling your throat and squeezing, cutting off your oxygen in a flash. you gasp, clawing at her copper hand. above you, sevika snarls, her spit drips down onto your face, her eyes glowing purple.

"you need to get the fuck out of here before i tear. you. apart." she growls. her teeth seem sharper. you shudder beneath her, struggling against her hold.

suddenly, sevika throws her body off yours, writhing in pain. you scramble to your feet, gasping for air, backing away from her. as soon as you get breath back in your lungs, you dash for the double doors in the front of the bar. behind you, you hear sevika snarl.

you flick the bolt on the doors and push, but the door doesn't budge. you can hear a chain and padlock clanging against each other with every shove you give the door.

you're going to kill silco if sevika doesn't kill you first.

turning around, you see sevika standing behind the bar, eyeing you like prey. her nostrils are flared, her eyes are dead set on you, teeth bared like she's going to rip your throat out. you damn near piss yourself.

you take off for the stairs, cursing when you hear sevika's footsteps take off after you. scrambling upstairs, you duck into silco's office, grabbing a chair and throwing it at the windowed wall behind his desk. a panel shatters, just barely big enough for you to fit through, and just as you're about to leap down to the street fifteen feet below you, a heavy hand lands on your nape, pulling you off your feet then hurling you toward the ground.

you land with a grunt, and then sevika lands on top of you.

"sevika!" you say, punching at her chest, trying to push her off you. "let me go!"

"i told you to get out of here and you didn't fuckin' listen." she growls above you. in all your flailing, you manage to claw sevika across her face. three lines of blood bubble up across her cheek. sevika stares down at you in shock and you stare up at her in fear. then, she laughs.

"you're cute when you're scared, honey." she says. the violent glint in her eye shifts to something you recognize a little more, and then she's flipping you, pinning you to the ground with a hand on your head, tearing your pants off with the other.

"sevika!" you gasp, scandalized. she doesn't hear you, shredding the fabric covering your ass until it's free. she smacks it, laughing at the way you squirm. "what the fuck are you doing!?"

"tried to kill everyone else. shoulda known i wouldn't wanna kill you, sweetheart." she growls. you shiver beneath her. "silco's smart, sending you in here."

"what the fuck are you talking-- oh!" suddenly, your panties are torn off your hips. "sevika!" you gasp.

above you, sevika rearranges herself. she pushes at your hips until your ass is up in the air, and you whimper. you gasp when you feel the sole of her rubber boot press down against your head, taking her hand's place. you struggle against her, and she smacks your ass, pressing her foot down against your head harder.

with two hands on your hips, she starts grinding her clothed buldge against your cunt. you whimper.

"sev-sevika what--"

"you're soaked." she snarls. "fuck, you're such a whore. choked you out and you're creamin' your panties." her voice is a mixture of disgust and admiration. your shaking like a leaf beneath her. "'m gonna put a fuckin' baby in you now." she growls. you gasp.

her hand leaves your hip for half a second to shove her waistband down, and then all at once, she's gripping your hip again, spitting on your fluttering asshole, shoving her cock inside you to the hilt.

you gasp at the stinging stretch in your cunt, tears welling up in your eyes. sevika has no mercy, not giving you a moment to adjust before she starts pounding into you.

"i'd fuckin' live in this cunt if i could." she grunts as she smacks your ass. you whine. "feels so good."

"sev!" you screech. "slow down!"

she doesn't slow down, instead she spits in her hand and reaches around you to start rubbing your clit. "that better baby?" she asks. you gasp. "yeah, that's better." she answers for you, rutting her hips against your ass.

the tip of her dick is nudging your cervix, and pleasure quickly starts taking over the pain. she fills you so fucking well, like her cock was made for you, like your cunt was made for her. she grunts behind you. "yeah babe?" she asks. oh shit, you must've been talking out loud. you nod as best as you can beneath her boot.

"yeah." you moan.

"you want my cum?" she asks again. you shudder.

"yes!" you screech. she chuckles.

"you first. milk it outta me." she grunts. your eyes roll to the back of your head, your cunt clenching hard around her. she whimpers, her hold on you tightening. "cum on my cock baby." she grunts, smacking your ass. that's all it takes for you to fall apart beneath her.

your legs shake as you cum, and sevika growls, her foot lifting off your head and settling behind you to get better leverage as she fucks her cock as deep as it can go inside you. She gives her hips three more thrusts before she's groans, her hot cum filling you up, and dripping down your thighs.

the two of you collapse simultaneously. she's crushing you with her weight but it's a comforting crush, and you sigh happily. sevika kisses your head.

"you okay?" she asks.

"yeah." you say dreamily. she chuckles.

"'m sorry."

"not your fault." you mumble. "thanks for not killing me." she chuckles above you.

"hmm." she hums, nuzzling into the nape of your neck.

she's asleep in a moment, her breaths evening out and tickling your ear. with sevika laying on top of you, you don't have many other options beside falling asleep beneath her.

the next morning you're both woken up by silco standing in the doorway of his office with his back turned to you, clearing his throat. "i'll give you two privacy to... clean up and go home... i just wanted to make sure you survived the night." he says.

"silco!" you call before he can shuffle away. "you need to find a new human test subject." you say. he nods.

"yes, i agree. i'm already making arrangements to make that change." he says.

"good." you say. then, "and leave a few of those shimmer samples on the bar for us."

sevika muffles her laugh in your neck as the two of you watch silco's shoulders shoot up, his ears turning bright red.

#sevika x you #sevika #sevika arcane #sevika imagine #sevika x reader #sevika smut #the end of the second prompt started reminding me of abitohoney's submit #which is such a good fic! so if u want more shimmer fueled reader x sev rough smut u should check it out :)#i hope u enjoyed anon!

315 notes · View notes

lo-vearchive · 1 year

Text

Forgive Me (Pt. 2)

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x female reader

Summary: After reconciling in your bedroom, Miguel disappears on you for a week. Giving up on any hopes of romance, your friends plan a night out for you to cheer up. Too bad your boss makes an appearance and catches you with an attractive stranger on a stormy night. Read Part One: here

Word Count: 4463 words

Content: Miguel being a rude bastard, Miguel asking for forgiveness (again), arguments, possessiveness, alcohol consumption, tobacco consumption, 18+ (minors DNI), no p in v but things get spicy at the end, female fingering, finger sucking, misogyny, insecurity, swearing, hurt and comfort, office sex (no p in v), questionable Spanish

Note: ANGST! Got carried away once again. Lowkey not proofread. I love angst and Miguel being vulnerable. If you are into angst, you will enjoy this. Feel free to correct my Spanish and ask for any other cw to be added. Thank you for the 1K+ notes on Pt. 1. Have fun, horndogs ;)

It has been seven days since you last saw Miguel O’Hara.

After spending a full 48 hours by your side, he had gone back to work. You decided to join him at Alchemax the next day but found his office empty. At first, you thought he was occupied with Spider-Man business, so you kept yourself busy with answering his overflowing email box. Slowly the sun set behind the skyline of Nueva York and the messages ran out, leaving behind a feeling of uneasiness in your stomach.

You [sent Friday, 6 pm]: Hey, are you coming to work today?

You [sent Friday, 10 pm]: I’m going home for the night. Call me when you are home. I miss you :)

You [sent Saturday, 5 am]: Are you okay?

You [sent Saturday, 1 pm]: I’m getting really worried. Where are you?

You [sent Saturday, 5 pm]: I emailed you in case you lost your phone. Call me asap.

You [sent Sunday, 7 pm]: I’ll see you at work tomorrow.

You [sent Monday, 9 am]: Lyla said you’re okay but won’t tell me what’s going on. Says I don’t have clearance. Please call me.

You [sent Monday 10 am]: Are you actually ignoring me?

You [sent Tuesday, 1 am]: My best friend you’re an asshole and I should never let you near my pussy ever again.

You [sent Tuesday 1:23 am] Are you ghosting me? You know we work together, right?

You [sent Tuesday, 3:30 am]: I hate you Miguel O’Hara.

Friday rolled around and your best friend had enough of your drunk late-night facetime calls. She gathered a group of your high school girlfriends and decided a night out in the town would be the perfect remedy. “Fuck him, babe,” Katy states, sliding a shot glass across the table. “You should report him to HR for being an ass.”

You laughed and tipped the glass into your mouth. The tequila burnt its way down your throat. “I’m just going to find a new job. I can’t be dealing with this shit right now.”

Your friend Soo let out a burp. “Did you let him hit it?”

You shake your head. “No,” you cough. “We came close to it, like above the pants stuff— do you think that’s why he’s ignoring me? Because I didn’t put out right away?”

“Bitch,” Katy chides, slapping the tabletop, “be fucking for real. You look like a busty, hot secretary from some comic book. He should be lucky you let him touch your tits!”

Your friends nodded along in agreement. Katy grabs the sides of your chair and spins it around, facing you to the restaurant bar. “You see that guy there?” she points at a man with messy blond hair in an open-collar white shirt. “He’s been eyeing you all night. Go talk to him right now.”

The tequila must have heightened your bravery as you found yourself walking across the dimly lit restaurant and to the wall. Stealing a glance at him from the corner of your eye, you ask the bartender for, “a rum and coke please.”

“You can add her drink to my tab,” the man says just like you hoped he would. “I hope you don’t mind. I saw your friends fussing over you earlier and you looked like you needed a drink.”

“Is it that obvious?” You ask, letting out a laugh. “You’re right, I do need a little pick-me-upper tonight.”

“My name is John,” he says.

You introduced yourself and slide in the empty seat next to him. “So, what’s going on with you?” he questions, sipping his beer.

You carefully lift your drink from the bar top and circled the rim with your index finger. “I’m not sure if I wanna’ trauma dump on a stranger.”

“Sometimes talking to strangers helps.”

You contemplate his words and sigh. Your friends would kick you if you said the name Miguel O’Hara again in their general vicinity. You chose to divulge a little to the mystery man. “Things got a bit complicated with someone I really cared about. Everything was going well and then he disappeared suddenly, and I don’t know why.”

John listens to you carefully, nodding to himself. “You know what I do when I’m confused?”

“What?”

“I take a smoke break to chill out,” he answers, standing up. “Care to join me?”

You downed the contents of your glass and follow him out a door that open to a back alley behind the restaurant. Rain pours down heavily, and you both huddle under a dingy metal shed. The cold air bites your arms sharply as John lights the end of his cigarette and brings it to his mouth. “It can be frustrating when you’re left without answers but a girl like you has nothing to worry about.”

You smile at his words. You take the cigarette off his hand and take a drag. The smoke fills your lungs, making your head spin a little. The light-headedness reminds you of how you felt last time when Miguel was in your arms. Airy, free, and light. No matter what you do, all your thoughts lead back to him. You shake away the memories and pass the cigarette back to John.

“What the hell are you doing out here?” a stern voice asks.

A man melts out of the shadows in the alley and into the light shining from a streetlamp above. You recognize him. “Miguel?”

He doesn’t look at you and keeps his eyes focused on John. “Who is he?” he asks with a deep frown.

“Listen, I’m off work right now,” you clear your throat, sticking your nose up in the air. “I don’t have to explain—”

“Look, man,” John interrupts, “no need to get all worked about this. We are just talking.”

Miguel lets out a harsh laugh. “Yeah, right,” he spits and gets in his face. “You could have done that at the bar. Why the fuck are you out here alone with her? What were you planning on doing?”

“Mr. O’Hara!” you exclaim, stepping in between them. “You are out of line!”

He raises his eyebrows at your formality but keeps his attention on John over your shoulder. “Buddy,” John says, wrapping an arm around your waist and moving you to the side. “She is allowed to talk to whoever she wants. I suggest you leave us alone now.”

The touch doesn’t go unnoticed by Miguel. His nostrils flare and his eyes turned red with anger. He steps closer to John until he is looming over the poor man. You often forget how big your boss is compared to everyone around him. The scene looks almost comical with how John tries to puff out his chest. “Te calmas o te calmo,” (Calm yourself, or I’ll calm you down) Miguel snarls.

Whatever John sees in his face is enough to make him reconsider. He holds his hands up in surrender and backs away slowly. Stopping in front of you he pushes the half-burnt cigarette into your hand and whispers, “If this is the guy you were talking about, then maybe it’s a good thing he disappears. I’ll be inside if you still want to talk.”

He walks away from the alley and into the restaurant, leaving you with Miguel alone in the alley. You watch in silence as his body trembles, and you can’t tell if it’s from anger or the rain hammering away at his back.

He breaks the silence. “So, you’re letting strangers into our private business?”

You snort loudly. “You don’t get to speak to me like that,” you tell him, taking another drag. “Especially after disappearing on me. You can’t just strut back into my life and tell me who I can confide in.”

“I was tending to some urgent matters,” he says, brushing his wet hair away from his forehead. “So I took the time to handle them. I can’t be around you every second of the day acting as your lap dog.”

The heat from the cigarette burns your skin. “What the hell is wrong with you?” you raise your voice, throwing your hands in the air. “You’re acting like I want you on a leash! I just wanted to know you were okay.”

“Clearly I’m okay,” he replies, rolling his eyes.

Your lips tug into a deep scowl at his tone. “Did you ever stop to consider how your actions affected me? How lost and confused I felt waiting by the phone every day?”

“It wasn’t intentional,” Miguel matches your tone. “You know I am a busy man, and that I have responsibilities. But you’d rather live in some fantasy land where I’m just some monster out to hurt you! You can’t begin to understand the weight I carry on my shoulders.”

Anger surges through your body. “How am I supposed to understand when you don’t tell me anything? Hell, your AI knows more about you than I do. It’s like you only care about missions or work and nothing else—”

“Sometimes in life, personal matters have to take a backseat,” he cuts you off, harshly. “Not everyone can put on a short skirt and high heels, waltz into work, type a few memos and then call it a night.”

“You misogynist fuck!” You scream back at him, resisting the urge to slap him silly. “I hate you!”

“I hate you too!” he yells back in your face with bloodshot eyes.

You spin on your heels and begin walking towards the main road. Rage begins to bubble inside you and reaches your throat. You turn around just as you reach the sidewalk and call out, “You know what? It doesn’t matter if you disappear again because I have hated you since the moment I met you. I hated you when everyone at work warned me about you. I hated you all those times you dismissed me like an afterthought. And I hated you when you came to my room that night begging for a second chance. So, I don’t care if you hate me, or think I’m useless or unimportant cause have hated you longer and harder and for better fucking reasons!”

You take another drag from the cigarette and then crush it underneath your pretty high heels. You make a right at the end of the alley and begin walking up the street. Warm tears spill down your face as you shiver in the rain. Katy was right, he was an asshole. An asshole that made you feel dumb for having a normal job or human emotions. But maybe you were just an idiot for falling in love with a man who didn’t respect you. Love wasn’t supposed to be this hard, but here you were feeling small and crying at the side of the road.

The sound of screeching tires brings you out of your self-pity. A sleek black car pulls up on the other side of the road and the passenger window rolls down. Miguel’s face emerges from behind the glass. “Ven aquí!” (come here) he calls out.

You ignore him and keep walking ahead. You have no idea where you are going, but you would rather eat rocks than speak to him.

From the corner of your eyes, you see Miguel make a sharp left, almost hitting oncoming traffic and pulling up beside you. “Get in the car!”

Your feet don’t stop moving so he slowly inches his car to match your speed. “Estoy harto. (I’m sick of this) Let’s talk!”

Honks and yells filled the night as people grew frustrated with his speed. “Stop,” you hiss, bending down to the window. “You are embarrassing me!”

“Get in the car then,” he says, with a clenched jaw. “You’re gonna’ catch a cold in the rain.”

“Stop pretending like you care,” you snarl, kicking the side of his car.

“A-YO LADY!” a man yells out of his yellow cab. “Get in the damn car! Your boyfriend is holding up traffic!”

A pleased smirk spread across Miguel’s face at the man’s remarks. You let out a frustrated grunt and yanked the door open, slipping into the passenger seat. “Put your seatbelt on,” he says, picking up speed.

You begrudgingly obey but wished that his car would get rear-ended so hard that his fat head would go through the windshield. “You look like you want me dead, babe,” he commented with a nervous laugh.

“Don’t call me that,” you snap, adjusting the belt over your soaking dress. “Where are we going?”

“Back to Alchemax,” he points at the GPS screen. “The freeway flooded, and it will be a while until it clears up. I have a spare set of clothes I keep in the office for overnighters. You can change while we wait for the storm to blow over.”

“I don’t want your charity,” you grumble, crossing my hand over my chest.

“I know,” he says. “I just want to take care of you.”

You disliked how your stomach felt at his words. “I left my bag behind at the restaurant.”

“I picked it up, it’s in the back seat.”

“I didn’t pay my tab.”

“It’s taken care of. Your friends know you’re fine, too. Just relax.”

Miguel leans over to turn your seat warmer on and warmth spreads across your chest and down your limbs. He drives in silence with only the soft white noise of radio static playing in the background. Occasionally you tear your gaze away from the furiously working windshield wipers and steal glances at his face. The headlights from other cars make the slopes of his cheek and the plumpness of his lips visible even on a stormy night. His warm complexion has turned pale, and you ponder if it was because of your interaction earlier.

You both pull up into the Alchemax parking lot and get out of the car. The security team must be watching through the cameras, wondering why one of their lead engineers was coming into work late at night with his drenched secretary. You quickly follow him into the elevator and up to the floor with his office. He opens the office door, and you slide inside into the dark space.

“Lyla,” he calls out and the room illuminates on command. “Lights.”

Miguel walks up to a storage cupboard and retrieves a towel in one hand and fresh clothes in the other. He passes them to you, and you quietly enter the adjacent washroom to change. You peel your damp dress off your skin and shiver as the chilly air hits you all over. Rubbing the towel quickly over your cold skin, you slip into an oversized t-shirt and shorts. It takes two knots of the drawstring, but you manage to keep the waistband tied around your naval.

You find Miguel waiting for you outside. He had changed into a shirt that hugged his slender waist and pants that hung dangerously low under his taut stomach. He pulls the towel out of your hand and drapes it over your head. His hands gently rub the threads against your wet hair in soft, circular motions. You lean into his touch involuntarily. “I can do it myself,” you complain but made no move to reach for the fabric.

“I know,” he replies. “I want to do it for you.”

“Please don’t.”

“Hmm?”

“You’re doing that thing again,” you said, “and it’s messing with my head.”

“What thing?”

“The thing where you start acting kind after being mean,” you explain in a small voice. “I don’t like it. It’s confusing”

He tugs the towel back so you can look into each other’s eyes. “I didn’t mean to make you feel bad,” he speaks, gently. “I just lost my shit when I saw you with him.”

“You cut off all contact when all I wanted was to know if you were okay,” your voice shakes as you stare at your feet. “You left me all alone, what was I supposed to do? Wait for you to change your mind?”

“I know I messed up, baby. I was wrong” he sighs, inching down his forehead to meet yours. “I should have communicated with you, but sometimes on missions, things get complicated. I don’t always like the things I have to do, and recently I’m having a difficult time making peace with it. It’s like the harder I try to do the right thing, the more damage I do. So sometimes, it’s just better to be alone rather than pretend I’m okay around other people.”

His words hurt your heart. You knew that his missions take a toll on him. In the past whenever you tried to inquire about its contents he wouldn’t answer. You wouldn’t push, afraid that he’d pull away, but it seems that he was pulling away regardless.

“When you’re gone,” you clear your throat, trying to speak through your narrowing trachea, “I worry that you might be laying dead in some universe, and I’d be none the wiser. I know that being Spider-Man is a sacrifice, but I don’t care about the world. I only care about you. So, when you treat me this way, it’s like I can’t breathe.”

He cups your face and places a soft kiss right on your cheekbone “Forgive me.”

“You say that a lot,” you remind him with a frown.

“I know,” he nods, “and I still mean it. I’m just an idiot who doesn’t know how to find the balance in life. I love that you care about me, and I want you to continue caring about me.”

“I don’t know, Mr. O’Hara,” you said. “I can’t ignore the way you speak to me at times. It feels as if you think we’re not equals. I am not some idiot. I am not beneath you just because I work under you.”

He groaned at the sound of his last name. Every time you called him that, it made the space between feel bigger. “I have seen a million universes, nena, (babe) and you are not beneath me in any of them,” he curls a damp strand behind your ear, “Unless we are in bed, then you’re definitely under me.”

“Miguel!” you chide, punching him in the stomach. “No es broma! (It’s not a joke) I’m being serious!”

He lets out an oof and backs away. His fangs poke out from underneath his curled lips and in that moment, he looks as carefree. He wraps his large hands around your arms and holds your attention. “I know broken trust isn’t easily mendable, but I’m going to try my hardest. I won’t leave you out in the dark or make you feel small. I’ll think twice before I open my stupid mouth. I’ll even ask Lyla to give you full access to my missions. Wh-when you see what I have to do- what I must do, please don’t hate me.”

“Miggy,” you pout, reaching for his face. “I was really, really angry when I said those things to you. I can never hate you. My heart won’t let me.”

His toothy grin appears again, and Miguel draws you into him. His smooth lips find yours and he cranes your head back to find the angle that leaves you breathless. You run the pads of your thumb gently across the slopes of his cheeks. It never ceased to surprise you that his skin was so soft under his stubble. Without breaking your kiss, your shuffle back and walk him to his desk chair. You smile into his lips as he shakes his head when you move him back and down to sit. His hands wrap around your wrists. “D-don’t leave,” he cries out.

You shake your head and take a seat on his lap with your legs dangling off the side. Miguel’s hands find your jaw and he turns your mouth to his. You wrap your fingers in his hair and tug him closer. You let out a content hum as his fangs softly dig into your lips, breaking the skin. The taste of metal fills your mouth, and you pull away to look at him. He sits in your embrace, with red-stained lips and is just as breathless. “Sorry,” he sheepishly says. “I usually have them under control. It’s just you’re in my office and in my clothes. It’s making my head spin a little.”

You laugh at his words and gently pull his hair back. Pressing a wet kiss to his exposed throat you ask, “Miggy, how come we haven’t had sex yet?”

“Honestly?” he lets out a choked moan.

“Honestly,” you hum, licking his jaw.

His hands suddenly grab you by the elbows and spin you around on his lap, so his chest is facing your back. His warm breath hits the nape of your neck. A shiver runs down your spine. “I haven’t fucked you yet because once I’m inside you,” he whispers into your ear, “I’ll never want to be anywhere else. I wouldn’t want to eat, sleep, work, or be Spider-Man. I think I’ll just want to stay buried in you all the time.”

“Miguel,” you moan, clutching your thighs together.

“Tsk-tsk,” he clicks his tongue. “Don’t hide from me.”

His large hand slips between your thighs and pushes your legs apart. He turns the chair around until you’re both facing his work desk. “Up,” he commands, slapping the side of your thighs.

You gingerly obey and place your bare feet on the edge of his desk. His hands slip under your shirt, and he fumbles with the knot. Impatient with the knots, he uses a sharp claw to cut through the drawstring. Your breath hitches as he pushes the loose shorts down your legs and off your feet. He wraps his fingers behind your knees and draws your legs apart. He puts his chin over your shoulder and bunches your shirt up to get a good look at your pink underwear. “Baby,” he coos. “You gotta’ let me have this once we are done. A little souvenir for when I’m away.”

Your stomach tightens at his suggestion. You glance at him and then the office door,. “Someone will see us,” you nervously gulp.

“You let me worry about that,” he says and presses a kiss to the side of your forehead, “and just relax. I’m not gonna’ let anyone else see my girl spread out like this.”

He runs his knuckles down your bare stomach and across the clothed cunt. Electricity shoots up your body and you almost curl up in his arms. Miguel’s fingertips find a quickly dampening spot on the fabric. “Huh,” he huffs. “Is this me or rainwater?”

You cry, arching into his touch.

“I guess it’s just me,” he grins against your shoulder.

He slides your underwear off your legs and tosses it on the table. It lands on a pile of paperwork you had put aside from him earlier in the week. Miguel stops breathing at the sight of your glistening, swollen pussy. A loud moan escapes your throat as his fingers part your folds and glide back and forth. You were sure that the security guards patrolling this floor would have heard you down the hallway. You almost miss his question over the sensations of pleasure spreading through your body.

“Do you want my finger inside you?”

You nod against his cheek and reach behind to clutch a fistful of his hair to brace for impact. He lowers his down until his thick, middle digit is nudging your opening. You must have been soaking his thighs with how easily his digit sinks inside. You bit your lip harshly to contain the sounds threatening to escape your mouth. It’s your turn to hold your breath when Miguel’s other hand begins to stroke your clit. Once, twice, thrice.

When he speaks, his voice is hoarse. “You clench around my finger every time I flick your clit.”

Not that you needed proof, but Miguel does it again and you shake with pleasure. “See?” he gasps, and captures your lips in a sloppy kiss.

He he pulls back to hold your eyes and you breathe his shaky breaths in. You close your eyes and imagine how it would look to hold his hard cock in your hands while he played with your pussy. He tears you away from your fantasy by hooking his fingers inside on an angle. You almost arch completely off his lap. He moves his free hand away from your clit and presses you back into him. His hard bulge pressed into your ass.

“Here?” Miguel moans and licks your lips. “Tell me where? Right here? Ah, here.”

His fingers find that spot again and he massages his fingers against it. You nod furiously and my hands move to claw forearms. He softly bites your shoulder in retaliation and his free hand resumes working against your clit, picking up rhythm. “Can I put another finger inside?” he asks, breathing hard. “I promise it will feel good.”

“Oh-kay,” you gasp, rocking your hips on his hand.

His index finger slithers into your pussy, and you forget how to speak. You begin to twist and turn in his lap. He pulls away from your clit to press down hard against your stomach so he can keep you in place. You slide your ass over his crotch with every movement of his fingers.

“Mig-Mig-Mig,” you pant, moving your hips to his set rhythm.

“Good? I bet that feels so good.”

“Gah—”

He presses soft kisses onto your cheek as you sink into his arms. You begin to tighten further around him. You realize that this is exactly how you always want to be—full of Miguel’s fingers, touch, and love. His tongue slips into your mouth as his fingers begin curling into you faster. Your moans and groans echo through the office. His left hand leaves your stomach and reaches for your clit again. It takes seven swipes, one for each day he left you alone, for you to seize around his finger. His mouth never leaves yours as he drinks all of your pleasurable cries.

Slowly, the current leaves your body and you’re able to take in your surround. Your cheeks burn with realization. Miguel had just fingered you open on his desk at your workplace. The very same desk you set up for him every morning. Your fingers slide up to his hair and you hide your face in the crook of his neck. “Don’t be shy now,” he chuckles, “One day I’ll fuck you all over this office, nena.”

You shriek and lightly slap his arm. Miguel gently slides his fingers out of your cunt, eliciting a soft groan, and brings his to his mouth.

He hums with eyes closed at the taste. “You taste so good,” he mumbles around his fingers.

“Ugh,” Lyla gags at a distance. “Be glad I activated noise cancellation.”

A/N: Thoughts?

796 notes · View notes

wardenparker · 4 months

Text

Hummingbird Has Landed, ch 15

Marcus Pike x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

After the debacle of his failed engagement and relocating to Washington to take charge of his task force, newly minted Special Agent Marcus Pike is ready to get back out into the dating pool once more. A slew of bad dates has him feeling a little down, and he takes an old friend up on an invitation to get away and get his head on straight. Imagine his surprise when he finds not only fresh air, but his soulmate as well - hiding in plain sight but in the unlikeliest of places.

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 10k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: occasional mention of American politics, pregnant character, food/alcohol consumption, mentions of clothing/regulated dressing for occasions, mentions of therapy because we believe in self care here, reader is in a previous relationship, love triangle, reader is mentioned as turning 30 during the course of the story, dom/sub dynamics* Tooth-decaying sweetness, talk of pregnancy/impregnation, unexpected visitor, references to rough sex, possessiveness. Oral sex (female receiving), vaginal sex, unprotected sex. Summary: After almost a year together, you and Marcus celebrate your first Valentine's Day together with a weekend trip away. Notes: We are inching closer to the wedding with every chapter! This week enjoy some sex and romance, Pike style.

Ch1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8 ~ Ch 9 ~ Ch 10 ~ Ch 11 ~ Ch 12 ~ Ch 13 ~ Ch 14

The flight from Dulles to JFK would be shorter, but there’s a certain charm to taking the train. The rhythmic clacking of the wheels on the track is almost romantic and Marcus had secured an entire compartment for you, him and Agent Sellers. Agent Bailey will meet you in New York with a car and to trade off with your other security detail, but for now, it seems like it’s just the two of you in the car. “Hotel first?” Marcus asks, kissing your fingertips and you look out the window at the passing scenery.

“Because you want to drop off our bags or because you want to test out the mattress?” Either way the answer is yes, and you relax in your seat all over again. This idea to go away for a few days for Valentine’s Day had made you feel guilty at first, but you were easy to convince once you remembered that it was around Valentine’s last year that everything has started to happen between you. Now that chaos of finishing the house and moving in together is over with, a couple of days in New York sounded perfect.

"I do need to see if your legs look different on my shoulders in New York than in D.C." he teases, wagging his eyebrows playfully. "Three days of no house details, no work, and all we have to worry about is walking out of our hotel room dressed."

“And making our reservations on time.” With your fingers tangled through his, this time you pull his hand over to kiss his fingers instead. “I may have called in a favor for our dinner tonight.”

"Where are we having dinner?" He had left the dinner reservations up to you, knowing you would have a list of favorite places you would want to go.

"Tonight we're going to see a friend," you hum, leaning into him as much as you can in your seat as the train speeds toward New York. "One of Syd's friends from culinary school opened a restaurant right in the city a couple of years ago and I've just never gotten the chance to go up and try it out. So I called in a favor and got us a reservation for after the theater tonight. Neo is an Italian steakhouse, which sounded right up your alley."

"Nice." He's impressed by the idea of a nice steakhouse that is close to you and Sydney. His hand slides down to your thigh and he squeezes it gently.

"And then tomorrow night..." Your hand over his on your thigh is basically just grounding. Holding you to him and making sure you don't float away on the bliss of having some time off with your fiancé. "Every time we watch FoodTV you get obsessed with watching Alex Guarnaschelli, so I got us a reservation at Butter."

"Really?" His eyes widen in delight and he can't believe that you would go through the trouble for something like that. It's the small things that you notice that makes him feel special. You do so many little things that show him you pay attention to his interests, passing or intense. "That's— wow." He shakes his head. "Thank you."

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” you hum, leaning your head on his shoulder. The train ride was a special treat but now that you’re almost in the city you’re eager for your trip to really begin. “I love you more than anything.”

"I love you too." He leans his own head against yours. "I booked our tickets to the Met." He tells you quickly, knowing you will like that.

“I’m sooooo excited for museum time with my own personal art expert.” He claims he isn’t, but you’ve learned in the last year not to listen to his protests. He practically gives guided tours whenever you go to the Smithsonian together.

He rolls his eyes playfully but he doesn’t naysay. He knows that you look at it as a point of pride almost. “Anything else you want to do? I think it’s a little too cold to take a boat out in Central Park.”

"There are a million museums and historical sites." And you can't wait to explore each and every one of them with him. "It's just too bad it's too early in the year for a ball game."

“We can always make a summer day trip.” Marcus immediately offers. “Maybe the subway series?”

"That would be fun." You perk up instantly at the idea of it. "The MET is tomorrow, so how about we ask the concierge at the hotel what their favorite underrated attraction is for today before the theater?"

“That sounds good.” He agrees. “Something that is kind of off the beaten path sounds fun.”

The last hour of the trip is smooth sailing, and early check-in at your hotel means that you and Marcus are unpacking your suitcases in almost no time. It’s snowy in New York but not in a way that will add up, and it makes the whole thing look quite picturesque from your seventh-floor window.

“Too bad the fireplaces have been closed for years.” Marcus comments. “Couldn’t you imagine curling up next to a fire and watching the snow fall?”

“Next year let’s rent a cabin,” you hum, leaning back in his arms as you look out the window together. “Get snowed in.”

“That sounds like something we can definitely do.” For the suggestion, you deserve a kiss. “Unless you are pregnant. Then I don’t know if I would want to risk it.”

“If I’m pregnant we’ll choose a very easily accessible hotel where we can watch the snow fall instead.” His concern is sweet enough to earn him a kiss in return, and they’re getting longer every time. “Someplace where we can get snacks delivered.”

“Pregnancy cravings.” Marcus practically moons at the idea and he cups your cheeks to kiss you again.

“So…I’ve been thinking about something.” This calls for a face to face conversation, and you turn around in his arms.

“Oh yeah?” He doesn’t think that it’s anything bad, you come to him when something heavy is on your mind. “Tell me what you’ve been thinking, sweetheart.”

The two of you have always agreed that the timing of your lives needed to be a joint conversation, but somehow you don’t think this particular idea is going to need much debating. Not much if any, knowing Marcus. “I think I’d like to stop taking my birth control the day before the wedding,” you tell him, slipping both arms around his waist. “I know it might not happen for us immediately, but I think everything else has fallen into place for us so maybe this might, too.”

Marcus tilts his head, a slow smile spreading over his face and lighting it up. “Yeah? You want to do that?” He asks quietly. “I— I think that’s perfect.” He admits. “As long as you are ready.”

You're glowing as you lean into him, already feeling like you could burst with happiness and pride. "I'd say we should start now but there's no way my wedding dress will fit me if I'm pregnant."

“I want you to be able to drink a toast at our wedding if we can help it.” Marcus admits.

"Especially since you went through all the trouble to pick out good toasting champagne with the wedding planner." It had been an entire conversation of wine pairings and champagne choices that you hadn't understood a word of but watching Marcus get excited about tasting notes had been well worth it.

“I think you will enjoy it. It will go well with our wedding cake.” He reminds you, knowing you are excited for the replica cake the bakery in Boston had fallen over over themselves to agree to bake.

"I'm excited for everything to come together." After so easily picking out bridesmaids' dresses last weekend and even finding a mother of the bride dress at the same shop, the wedding is feeling like everything is really falling into place. "Last things are to pick a place for the rehearsal dinner and to book our honeymoon."

“We’ve had so many ideas for our honeymoon…” he laughs quietly, remembering all the various places you’ve both come up with. “Have we actually decided on where we are going to go?”

"I think we've talked about almost every place on earth," you laugh right along with him. "But no. We haven't decided. I think the last time we talked we said it should be someplace that neither of us have been."

“Maybe we need to make a honeymoon wheel.” Marcus snorts. “Have you seen the trend where a guy will make a restaurant wheel to spin when their girlfriend or wife can’t decide?” He shrugs. “We could do the same thing with our honeymoon ideas.”

“Hotel room crafts.” It’s silly and sweet enough of an idea to make you giggle, and you press more kisses to Marcus’s lips and cheeks. “I don’t know about making a wheel, but we could do slips of paper with destinations on them in the ice bucket instead of a hat.”

“Like a lottery drawing.” He snorts. “That could be fun.”

“I have a notebook in my purse.” Which doesn’t surprise him one bit, but you tug Marcus back into the room from the window. “Grab the ice bucket?”

“In a minute.” He smirks and his hands slide from your waist to your ass. “You remember what I told you I wanted to do on the train?” He coos, leaning in and kissing your neck.

“Mmmmhmm.” A soft moan of approval and agreement sounds from deep in your throat, but you feel like teasing him just a tiny bit. “Something about…shoulders?”

“Your legs, my shoulders.” He grinds his hips against yours, his hardening cock proof of his desire and he smirks. “I need to see if you taste different in New York.”

It is pretty much never difficult to convince either of you when a good time to be intimate has appeared, and you nudge him backward again toward the bed. “Then why are we still wearing clothes?”

“That’s a good question.” He goes willingly and he reaches for the edge of your sweater to pull it up. “You’re wearing far too many of them right now.”

Sweaters, t-shirts, pants, and everything else end up scattered around the room, littering the carpet with evidence of the romance in the air. Marcus has you laid out on your back on the bed in no time and you happily tug him down to you for a kiss when he climbs in with you.

“My gorgeous hummingbird.” His hands slide over your clavicle and he kisses your collar bone gently. Worshipfully. “My love, my soulmate.”

“I love you.” Simple words, but meant with all the feeling in the world as your limbs curl around him and you melt under his kisses.

“I. Love. You. Too.” Every word is punctuated by a kiss. Making sure that he teases and caresses your skin with his lips.

“Baby.” After almost a year together, you and Marcus have no trouble finding the right buttons to push. You know each other’s favorite things, each other’s ticks and hidden kinks. You know Marcus adores being showered in praise just you like him to have a firm hand. The flow of your relationship has been built on respect and trust and mutual admiration. Which has made experimenting and finding the things you enjoy together all the more rewarding.

“What do you need, sweetheart?” Marcus pops his head up, eyes dark and fixed on you. “What do you want me to give you, sweet thing? I’ll give you anything you want, you just have to tell me.”

"Just you, baby." Anything and everything he is will to give you is always what you want. Just him. As much of Marcus as he is willing and able to pour into you any time you have moments to yourself.

“You have me, baby. You’ve got all of me.” He groans, adding to teeth to his kisses as he starts to move down your body.

"All of me." It's so true. And true for both of you. The complete devotion you have to each other is obvious. Lying naked wrapped in each other's arms might be the most honest and most vulnerable you ever are, and there is no one in the world you are more grateful to share that feeling with.

Marcus groans, your words of affirmation and affection always affect him, but none like they do when you are both stripped bare. When there is nothing between you but the air and your beating hearts. He drops a featherlight kiss on your stomach, which will one day hopefully protect his children, and then down to your hip.

"We really need to start asking hotels if they have sound proof rooms," you giggle, already sighing as Marcus moves lower and lower on your body.

"Let them hear." He chuckles, never having a problem with others knowing how satisfied you are. He brings your leg up onto his shoulder as he settles between your thighs and he licks his lips as he parts your folds to expose the sensitive little clit that he will lavish with attention.

The touch of his fingers makes you gasp, but you still chuckle despite yourself and know that you'll hold back more here than you do at home. Having the house finally be finished has been a blessing. "Last thing we need is a sound bite of the First Daughter getting eaten out."

"Then it's a good thing they don't have access to those little videos we've made, isn't it?" He smirks, having enjoyed the clips of sexy scenes both of you had made together and while you were apart to send to each other. They were in a locked file and heavily guarded so no one could get to them.

"Well I don't want you to miss me while you're on a long case," you rationalize, letting out another deep sigh as his finger paints a long stripe along your slit.

"Oh I always miss you." He promises, leaning in and nudging his nose against your clit before he samples a small taste of your essence.

He knows how to make you moan. He knows as well as he knows his own name. And yet the first moment your back lifts off the mattress always takes you by surprise and you have to remind yourself not to squeeze his head too tight between your thighs when they clench with that first feeling of pleasure. "Fuck, baby."

The noises you make are always so fucking sweet. He’s addicted to them, to you. His own groan is sounded into your pussy as his tongue flutters around, sweeping the edges of your folds in a pattern that always makes you whine.

The fingers of one hand twist into his curls and you’re prepared to thank every possible god all over again that Marcus has been growing out his hair. It’s all his own style of course, but you don’t mind having a handle to keep him close as he devours your pussy every chance he gets.

The small whine of pleasure that he gives at the pressure of your hand in his hair is one you thoroughly enjoy and he gives you that sound every time his cock twitches against the bed. Making him even more eager in his task as he flicks his tongue over your soaked hole.

Curses and praise and moans of pleasure fill the room, babble verging on incoherent as Marcus plays you with as much skill as his bass or guitar. It’s the w of pleasure that makes you feel like you’re floating all the way above the mattress. It’s ecstasy, all on the curls and flicks of your soulmate’s tongue.

Marcus has always enjoyed sex, enjoyed giving and receiving pleasure, but there is something incredibly unique about his intimacy with you. There is a fusion of your bodies that match your souls, where your pleasure magnifies his own and he gets lost in it.

You shatter for him as easily as breathing, although in the moment you come apart you’ve replaced panted breaths with an orgasm so intense that your mind goes blank as you sob his name into the bright white afternoon. It’s almost like being at peace, the way he breaks you apart and puts you back together with tender caresses and loving kisses, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Your come down is his favorite part of foreplay. The pliant limbs and pleasure warmed skin. He loves the dazed look in your eyes, as if you are surprised by how good you feel. “Maybe I need another taste.” He murmurs against your lips.

“Babyyy.” You whine and grab his shoulder when he ducks his head like he’s going to travel down your body again. “Don’t you need to see if I ride you just as well in New York?”

He stops, tilts his head as if he is considering that point before he sighs. Making it seem like it’s a big concession on his part. “I think that needs to be explored too.” You love to ride him and he always lets you be in control when you want it, since so often you want him in control.

“It seems very important.” You nod in agreement, grinning lazily to see his eyes light up at the prospect of having your tits in his face while you bounce on him.

He comes back up to kiss you thoroughly before rolling onto his back. His hard cock laying against his stomach as he reaches out and caresses your side. “Whatever you want, sweetheart.”

It’s just teasing, but you straddle his waist and lean over to press a kiss over his heart before shifting back into position. “That’s a very dangerous thing to promise your fiancée.”

“Not at all.” His hands find your waist and he squeezes gently. “I mean every word.”

“Dangerous.” You admonish him again with a tsk, but sink down on his length all the same — making both of you gasp and moan in unison.

Marcus’s eyes flutter closed with a silent prayer of thanks. His fingers digging into your flesh and for a second, he wishes you were already off your birth control. “Fuuuuuuuuck.” He groans when you roll your hips in a little circle and clench down around him.

“Fuck, you always feel so fucking good.” Letting your head fall back makes it feel like he’s gotten all the way up into your throat and your whole body tightens like a bowstring in response.

“That’s because you’re so perfect.” He groans in appreciation, rocking his hips up. “Tightest little cunt I’ve ever fucked.” He flashes a grin and twitches inside you. “Last little cunt I’ll ever fuck too.”

"All yours." As many times as you promise him that, it never diminishes how much you mean it. He has your whole heart for your whole life. "All yours and you're all mine and fuck you have the best cock in the world."

He chuckles, proud of your happiness with his abilities. His hand slides up your neck to cup the back of your head as he drags you down for a kiss.

The rhythm you set is quick but thorough, making sure to rise and fall on every inch of him to swallow his moans in equally thorough kisses.

He loves when you ride him. Your tits bounce and your kisses are greedy, leaving him to touch you how he wants to while you use his cock for your pleasure. “Fuck, baby.” He grunts, twitching when you swivel your hips.

The figure eights you draw in his lap are his favorite. They always have been. They're brilliantly drawn out and exaggerated to leave him groaning and greedy, pawing at you as you bounce on him. It's greedy for both of you in different ways, which is probably why this is one of your favorite positions.

“You’re teasing me.” Marcus huffs, lunging up to capture one tit in his mouth and scrape his teeth over your sensitive nipple.

"You — ah! — love when I tease you." And since he's so good at teasing you back, you don't ever hesitate.

Marcus just groans against your breast and slaps your ass playfully. Rocking you harder on his cock as his mouth works your breast.

It’s the hungry kind of sex where you know you’ll be sticky and sweaty and need a shower after. Where you know Marcus is going to leave teeth marks pebbling your skin. Where you know without a shadow of a doubt that you’ll be achy and feeling him in your theater seat tonight. And it’s exactly the right kind of fierceness for both of you, so you amp up your pace and throw your head back, letting the bliss of it all wash over you. Lovemaking is what you’ll do tonight, with moonlight streaming through the windows and soft touches and whispered promises. This is a deeply cathartic and energizing fuck — the perfect way to start your weekend.

“Fuck.” Marcus hisses and his fingers slide down to find your clit. Sensing the urgency to your pace and knowing how badly he wants to see you fall apart for him before he finds his own release.

Your whine of agreement is high from the added touch. His fingertips are calloused, giving you added friction as well as added tension, and every time you roll your hips you get more pressure and friction. It's stunning, the way he drives you toward the edge of that cliff of pleasure, and your head spins from how close you are.

“That’s it baby, you’re so good to me.” Marcus groans, loving how you just give him everything you’ve got. “So pretty on my cock. You gonna cum for me? You know I want to see it. Cum for me, sweetheart.”

"I'm so close baby." So close that you feel like you're about to fall over onto his chest from the way you're tensing up. Every part of you is tense, right down to the way your greedy cunt is clamping down on his cock.

“That’s it, fuck- you’re so tight.” Marcus hisses, watching you as your hips stutter and your shoulders start to shake. “So good baby, want to feel you.”

"Fuck, fuck, oh my god, Marcus!" The freedom to cry out, even though you joked about volume earlier, isn't lost on you. The way you tense and shatter and cry his name is his favourite music in the world.

He can’t help himself. Lunging up, he presses his lips to yours desperately and rolls you over to keep pistoning his hips and drilling into your spasming walls. Working you higher through your orgasm and chasing his own.

It would be a whole different ballgame if you were already off your birth control, but you still want Marcus to cum inside you. There's no better or more indulgent feeling in the world, so you wrap your legs around his waist and shake with the last waves of your own orgasm knowing that it will bring him toward his own.

“I love you, I love you. I love you.” Marcus begins to chant as his hips rock forward desperately, barely pulling back as he feels his body pull tight.

"I love you." Those words never diminish, especially not when he's driving his hips forward to bury his cock deep inside you, coating your walls with his searing hot release.

He whines your name as he rides out the release of every tense bone in his body. Pouring himself into you as he collapses against you. “Fuck.” He huffs, face buried against your neck and panting softly. “Always.” He murmurs, kissing a damp patch of skin over your pulse.

“Always.” A fact which leaves you breathless and tangled up in each other more often than not. Right now you hold him tight, hanging on to a confessional sigh. “I almost wish I was off my birth control already,” you admit quietly.

“Me too.” He chuckles because the two of you seem to always be so in sync about your goals and desires. “But we know that it would be better to keep to our original timeline.”

"It's a nice dream, though." Your fingers run up his shoulder and through his hair, and the softness in your eyes is pure adoration when your eyes meet again. "And I can't wait for it to come true."

“I know.” He smiles softly as he presses his lips to yours. “You know I’m going to be feral over you.” He warns. “Not going to be able to stop touching you.”

"Oh nooo." The laugh in your voice is as joyous as your smile but you toss a tone of sarcasm into your teasing. "That will be terrible. I just hate when my fiancé, the sexiest man in the whole world, wants to fuck me."

“You might hate sex while you are pregnant.” He huffs, knowing he would hate it, but he would never pressure you to sleep with him if you don’t feel like it. From what he can tell, it’s hard work to grow a human.

"I don't think I will." Of course, you can't be sure. But as you stretch your neck to kiss him again you enjoy the image tucked away in your mind. "I think I'm going to melt in your arms every single time like I already do."

“I love you.” The simple words are more vow than statement, completely true and undeniable. Luckily, the nasty rumors have tapered off and you have been able to enjoy the wedding planning so far.

"I love you, too." It doesn't take much surging to kiss him one more time, and then you're grinning all over again. "Now...how do you feel about naked honeymoon planning?"

“Naked anything with you is good for me.” He jokes. “Unless it’s frying bacon.”

"Aprons when we cook." You quote Sydney with a grin. "I think I can walk. I'll grab the notebook from my purse and we can write down the ideas we're serious about?"

“If you can’t, I’ll grab it for you.” He smirks, a little pleased when you are unsteady on your feet climbing out of the bed after he rolls off of you.

"Why don't you grab the ice bucket, baby?" Your purse is much closer to the bed than anything else, so it barely takes you two shaky steps before you're slumping back onto the mattress with a grin.

“Can’t make it, can you?” He chuckles as he stands up and crosses over to the desk where the ice bucket is located.

"Shut up." A playful little huff and a pout comes from the bed as you stick your tongue out at him. So what if you barely made it? You managed to grab your notebook and a pen and that's what matters. "You fucked me so good I can't walk, be nice."

He winks at you. “I fucked you so good you can’t walk because I’m nice.”

"I love you very much, now come and get back in bed," you stick your tongue out again and pick up your pen. "So what are your top choices. Are we doing top three each or top five?"

“I say we do five.” Marcus suggests, grinning as he saunters back over and plops down beside you with the bucket. “And then we use the bucket idea for the next nine anniversaries.”

"That's actually super cute." So much that it earns him a kiss when he comes and sits back down with you. A sheet of paper from your notebook is torn up into ten strips, and you hand him five. "I'm thinking my top five are Paris, Scotland, Napa Valley, New Zealand..." You grin unapologetically. "And Disney."

He shakes his head, faking a disappointed pout. “No naked honeymoon in Disney.” He grumbles. “We would be banned and then our kids would never forgive us.”

“We can still be naked in the hotel,” you remind him, grinning unapologetically as you drop the last destination into the ice bucket.

“Yeah, yeah.” He swats your thigh gently and sighs. “So I need to pick other destinations, right?”

“That’s the idea.” Being done before him lets you lay back in the pillows and idly stir the slips in the ice bucket while he thinks.

“Okay, okay…” he takes the notepad you’ve left on the bed and writes on the first one. “Ireland.” He shoots you a grin. “It’s different from Scotland.”

“Yes, it is.” You smirk at him, wondering if he’s going to pick places near all of yours.

“Let’s see…” He taps his chin. “Ohhhh Bora Bora would be good.” He scribbles it down. “Fruity alcoholic drinks, and tiny bikinis for you the entire time.”

That earns a grin from you, and you lean over to press a kiss to his shoulder. “Tiny bikinis are a favorite vacation theme for you.”

“It’s as close to naked as I can get you.” He huffs. “Unlessssss…” Marcus flashes you a teasing grin. “We go to one of those nudist resorts. Should I write Hedonism II down?”

“You try explaining that to my mother when she asks for vacation photos,” you snort, knowing that that choice would go over like screen doors on a submarine.

“Yeah…no to Hedonism.” He doesn’t write that, but he pretends to and mimes ripping the sheet out and balling it up. “How about Chile?” He asks, tilting his head curiously. “I’ve always wanted to go to the Atacama Desert or Easter Island.”

“Chile would be gorgeous. It’s too bad we couldn’t bring your bike down with us.” The image makes you hum, and your shoot him a grin. Marcus sitting astride his motorcycle in any setting just does things to you. “We’ll have to rent one when we go.”

“Absolutely.” He has rediscovered his love of having a woman on the back of his bike and often will bring you along if you can get away for a quick drive in the evenings.

“So…Ireland, Bora Bora, Chile,” you prompt him, tucking off your fingers. “Two more.”

“Greece.” Marcus decides and sends you a small smirk. “Rome.” He writes them down as well so they can be added to the trip bucket.

“Alright.” Dropping each slip into the ice bucket and stirring it around, you give it a few shakes for good measure before holding it high above either of your sight lines and angling it toward Marcus. “Go ahead. What’s our honeymoons going to be?”

Marcus grins and takes the bucket from your hands. “Let’s not pick now.” He teases. “Why don’t we pick at the end of our vacation?”

“You live to torture me!” You groan dramatically, dropping the ice bucket between you. “Do you really want to wait?”

“You don’t want to?” He teases, leaning in and kissing you playfully. “I guess we can decide now.” He rolls his eyes and picks the bucket up. “You choose. That way you can’t blame me.”

"Blame he says, as though they aren't all great choices." It calls for blowing a raspberry in his general direction, but you dip your hand into the ice bucket high above your head and swirl your fingers around to snag a single slip of paper. "Here we go," you intone dramatically, pulling the slip open and wiggling it around. "Looks like it's going to beeee..." Flipping the paper up, you grin at him. "Scotland!"

Marcus laughs at the glee on your face, knowing he would be happy going anywhere with you. “A stone cottage in the Scottish highlands where we walk the moors and burrow into each other in front of a roaring fire sounds perfect.” He puts on a thick Scottish accent for the dramatic flair.

"We can see the Highlands and the cities and go all over." Actually having a location picked out makes you giggle with excitement, and you lean over to kiss him before practically jumping out of bed. "Just like we can go explore this city right now. With clothes, of course."

“Now she can walk.” Marcus groans, climbing out of the bed after you. “What do you want to do before Ellis Island?”

"We should check what time the ferry runs." The concierge downstairs had given you a few ideas but ultimately you had decided to take the trip out to Ellis and Liberty Islands. It’s an important piece of American history and Agent Bailey won’t admit to it but she’s excited to look up her family from their crossing. "Why don't we grab a quick lunch? Give ourselves back some of the energy that we just burned off?"

“That sounds perfect.” He agrees, unable to resist grabbing a handful of your ass when you bend down to pick up your clothes. “Build up reserves for tonight.”

It's hardly a surprise when you and Marcus end up in a little café halfway between your hotel and the ferry to Ellis Island, ready to feast on French bistro classics for lunch. It's warm in the picturesque little restaurant and the snow is still falling without collecting on the sidewalk, so it's a picture-perfect winter day in the city.

“I think it’s safe to say that I will have to have the French onion soup.” Marcus tells you as he looks over the menu. “At least to start. What about you?”

"I think it's going to be a boeuf bourguignon day," you hum, spotting the item on the lunch menu and salivating over it immediately.

“Would you hate me for hurting Thumper if I had the rabbit cassoulet for the main?” He’s grinning and shrugging slightly.

"Not if you won't hate me for having cute little escargot for my first course." The one time he had expressed finding snails cute had obviously stuck with you, and since they're one of your favorite gourmet treats, it's a fair trade.

He huffs in feigned offense and sighs dramatically. “I suppose.” He jokes. “It’s only fair and I know it makes you happy.”

"What do you want to see first at the MET tomorrow?" The café is buzzing around you but you're happy in your little bubble. Just you and Marcus, cuddled together and happily plotting out the rest of your day.

“I’m not picky?” Marcus asks, playing with your fingers. “But Lady with a Parot and Perseus.” He rattles off with a guilty grin.

"Not picky, but two very specific choices." You grin at him, charmed all over again by the beauty and relaxation of the day. Agent Bailey is enjoying herself at a table across the café, also doing her best to relax despite being in the busy city. "Okay, you're on. And I want to track down Madame X."

“The American Wing.” Marcus instantly replies.

"That's my man." Of course he knows, that doesn't surprise you at all.

What does surprise you is the woman walking behind the hostess, currently approaching your table to be seated right next to you. "Vanessa?" Of all the gin joints in all the world, you think ruefully, but it's been so long since you heard from either her or Sam that you're just sort of shell shocked to see her instead of upset or angry about it.

Marcus turns to see the ex that he had hoped to never run into again - even more than Teresa - and wonders what the hell is about to happen. He warily glances behind her and around the smaller café. “This is a surprise.” He intones dryly.

“Just a coincidence.” Vanessa promises. She thanks the hostess and takes a seat, though she wishes there was literally any other table left. “I’m just having a bite after class. Forget I’m here.”

“Class?” That catches Marcus’s attention and he glances over at you to make sure that you are comfortable continuing the conversation. He feels like if there’s a change in the dynamic of your foes, you should learn all you can.

You nod subtly, but Vanessa doesn’t catch it. She’s thanking the waitress for her water. “Class,” she confirms when the waitress is gone. “I’m getting my master’s. I—” she looks between you, her former foes, and shrugs slightly. “A lot has changed.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” There’s no pressure to be applied, but it’s an offer. An olive branch, just like the one extended at the engagement party.

That’s a bit of a sticky question, but Vanessa nods. Her own is far less subtle than yours, as it’s meant to be seen. “I left Sam,” she begins, feeling that that is the most important news. “He was…he was getting out of control. There was never going to be an end to it as long as he had people on his side.”

Marcus squeezes your hand gently, the confirmation of it being on purpose was right there between the lines. “I’m sorry.” He murmurs quietly. “When you said you had discovered your soulmate, it was Sam, wasn’t it?”

“It was.” Vanessa confirms. There’s no reason to beat around the bush after everything that’s happened. “He’s just…he’s not the man he was when I first fell in love with him. Not anymore.”

“Vanessa….” Marcus sighs softly. “What was the root of the issue? We didn’t cheat. Why was Sam so obsessed with hurting us?” He phrases it that way so she doesn’t feel like he’s attacking her, and because he honestly never really imagined Vanessa being the ringleader. Now it seems as if she was a hopeless idealist, blindly following her soulmate down the wrong path.

She sighs, biting her lip slightly, and looking between you both with regret shining in her eyes. "Birdie was supposed to be his ticket to the White House," she admits, although the confession isn't hers to make. "When Marcus appeared on the scene he started getting paranoid, and then...then when you broke up with him? He seemed like he was just taking it a little too hard in the beginning but he started to go down a dark path pretty quickly."

“Did he hurt you?” Marcus’s voice gets soft, his jaw tense at the idea of violence perpetrated against any woman, even one who has wronged him. “Or made threats against Birdie we should know about?”

"No. No, he never would have had the resolve to hurt me physically. And the only threats he made never worked out." Vanessa assures him. "The worst founded one was the engagement party. Whatever you two and your social media team did to get ahead of that, well done."

“You went along with it because he’s your soulmate?” Marcus guesses. “The rumors and the whispers that were being fed from somewhere?”

"I can't exactly defend myself." Vanessa twists in her chair to face you fully, so this conversation can be quiet. "I was jealous."

"Of me...for being with the man you were in love with." You finish her thought without effort, understanding the instinct fully but from the opposite direction. "I was jealous of you. When you were with Marcus. We just...we had things switched around, I guess."

Marcus frowns, never realizing that she had been so involved with her feelings in the brief relationship. “I thought…you were waiting for your soulmate and just having fun with me?”

"I was trying to get over Sam." This is bound to be an uncomfortable conversation of confessions for Vanessa, but she is going to tell the truth. "In a sense you were a rebound for a relationship I never had. And when I realized who my soulmate was I thought everything was finally going to work out the way I wanted. But...that was even more wrong than I ever could have guessed."

“I’m sorry.” Marcus murmurs softly. “I hope that one day, you find the love and happiness you have been searching for.”

"I think I have to love myself first." Vanessa shrugs her shoulders and laughs. "I know that sounds cheesy, but...I started seeing a therapist and I got myself into grad school, and taking control of my own life has been really good for me."

“That’s great.” Marcus assures her, squeezing your hand again and glancing at you. “I can tell you that therapy will be good for you. Doesn’t matter what you’re going through. Sometimes it’s good to just learn how to cope with life.”

"I'm doing my best." Marcus has always been a kind man. It's good to know that that is just who he is, and that Vanessa hadn't been so blinded to people's good natures as to have misjudged him at any point. "I really want to apologize to both of you. Some of the things we did...that I did for him...were truly despicable. If I could take it all back, I would."

It’s not his place to accept an apology, especially when most of the attacks were focused on you. He squeezes your hand again, and defers to you.

"I wish we could have made amends sooner." You tell her, gently squeezing Marcus's hand in return. "But I'm glad that things are looking up for you, Vanessa. And I hope they continue to go in a positive direction. Nobody deserves to be defined by their mistakes when they're trying to better themselves."

It’s a gracious acceptance of the offered apology and so on point for who you are that Marcus wants to kiss you. “I completely agree.” He adds. “You focus on yourself and things will work out for the best.”

"That's very kind of both of you." And probably more than she deserves, but Vanessa isn't going to split hairs when she's stumbled into the chance to move forward. "And very diplomatic. It's...it's very easy to see, from the outside, why you're such a beloved couple." A fact which had made you both difficult to tear down, and is probably why Sam failed so entirely.

“We had some not so diplomatic moments.” Marcus admits, feeling that she is owed some truth as well. “But we aren’t going to punish you for mistakes that you are owning up to and trying to rectify.”

"Thank you." Vanessa half-smiles, looking around the small café, and makes the decision for herself with a small feeling of relief letting her shoulders relax for the first time in longer than she cares to admit. "I should let you enjoy your lunch," she says after a pause, and she stands. "It...was good to run into you. To clear the air."

“Good luck.” He won’t ask her to stay and continue the conversation and neither will you, but he wishes her well as she gathers her things.

"That was...unexpected." You murmur, watching Vanessa cross the street outside quickly, and duck into a pub instead of the little café you're still sitting in.

“Yeah.” Marcus blows out a breath and picks up your other hand. “How do you feel about it?”

"Weirdly...good?" It feels awful to admit, but getting an apology from someone who was actively trying to ruin your life not so long ago feels incredibly settling. "Or at least it feels validating. To know that we weren't crazy in thinking that Sam really was trying to hurt us so actively." It also feels awful to know that you were right about your ex not caring about you during your entire relationship, but that is a separate issue.

He sees the frown and he brings your hands up to kiss them gently. “At least we know now. You know.”

“Knowing is good.” You can agree to that, even as downtrodden as you feel right now. You got out of the relationship, found your soulmate, and are getting married. Everything is falling into place in the best way possible. But the sticky, icky, despicable sensation in your chest at being used isn’t exactly nice. “It still doesn’t feel good, though.”

“No it doesn’t.” He knows that feeling in a sense. Looking back at things objectively, it seemed like Teresa used him to prod Jane along, to pull his buried feelings out of him. “Do you want to go back to the hotel?” He asks softly, hating how your shoulders are rounded and your voice has dipped down.

“No.” This awful feeling will pass, you’ll regain your good humor, and this weekend won’t be ruined by a chance encounter in a restaurant. You won’t let it happen. “Let’s enjoy our lunch.”

He wants to ask if you’re sure, but he doesn’t. Giving you a reassuring smile, he glances towards the waiter. “How about a glass of wine?”

Determined to smile and to not be upset over a relationship that you ended willingly to begin with, you sit up your seat, roll your shoulders back, and turn your eyes back to Marcus. “Something bubbly, I think? We’re on vacation, after all.”

He smiles and nods. “I think that is completely appropriate. And it looks like they have a nice champagne on the menu.”

“Perfect.” You squeeze Marcus’s hand gently, thanking him for sticking with you through the tidal waves of clashing emotions you’re dealing with.

“Not nearly as perfect as you are.” There’s an odd sense of relief to have that chapter firmly closed, at least on Vanessa’s end. “Hopefully nothing else will happen.”

“Fingers crossed.” Huffing a soft laugh, you just shrug your shoulders and get in with ordering your lunch. It does no good to dwell and ruin the time away you have with Marcus. No good at all.

Panting, Marcus stares at the ceiling, nearly giggling at the bubbly, blissed out exhaustion that settles in the very marrow of his body. “Good girl.” He praises. “Good fucking girl.” Your own body is collapsed in a spent heap and he trails his fingers over your spine as you come down from the last, most intense orgasm of the night.

A matching giggle bubbles out of you as you curl into his side, utterly spent and gazing up at him with moony eyes. “Baby…” you laugh again, and half-turn toward him lamely. Your wrists are still bound with the tie he wore out to dinner. “Can I have my hands back?”

“Maybe I like you all bound up for me.” He teases, turning and working on the knots that are now harder than what he had originally tied because of you pulling and tugging on the restraint. Eager to touch him and frustrated by your inability to do so. “Next time I’ll tie you to the bed.”

“We’ll be back in our big four poster at home tomorrow night.” With your hands free, you loop your arms around his neck to kiss him soundly. “I’m already looking forward to it.”

“There’s something about being at home, isn’t there?” He asks, his hand coming up and tenderly caressing your throat where he had held it as he pounded into you. “I wasn’t too rough, was I?”

“Perfect level of rough,” you promise. Experimenting with his more dominant side had turned into a much-loved habit over your year together, and though you don’t get rough every single time you have sex it is definitely something you both enjoy.

“Do you need anything, sweetheart?” He asks. “Water, a rag?” Sometimes you like to keep his cum inside you, sometimes you like to clean up right after. And after every rough session, he likes to dote on you.

“I should say water.” Your eyes gleam with mischief. “But do we have any more wine? That bottle we bought in the Village was amazing.”

He smirks at your cheeky response and leans in to bite your bottom lip. “Sure.” He hums before he is climbing off the bed to get the lovely wine the two of you indulged in before your romp.

Tonight is one of those nights that you both indulged in the fantasy of getting pregnant, and lying in bed with a glass of wine with the sticky slick combination of your cum slowly dripping from your pussy sounds like pure indulgence. Plus you stashed Marcus’s Valentine’s gift in the bedside table, so there’s that too. You grab it now and slip it under your pillow, waiting for him to come back.

Pouring two glasses he turns back to admire your sprawled form as he bites his lip. It’s Valentine’s Day and the two of you have completely indulged today. Now, he needs to give you the gift he had picked out months ago.

“What’s that look for?” You hum, grinning back at him when he returns to your side in bed. “Did you suddenly remember how amazingly lucky I am to have you as my soulmate?”

“More like I remember how lucky I am.” He retorts. “I have a wonderful, sexy woman who indulges my desires and matches them.”

“So I guess we’re both lucky, then.” He hands you your glass and you take a sip, glad that you opted for a white wine tonight so you won’t accidentally ruin the sheets if you get playful. “Happy Valentine’s Day, my love.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day.” He smiles as he leans in to take a kiss from your wine soaked lips. “Have you enjoyed our weekend away?”

“To me it’s been perfect.” There are more kisses for both of you, never able to have enough of tasting or even just being near each other. “Have you enjoyed it too?”

“Hell yes I have.” He promises. “It’s been an incredible weekend, one we needed. No work, just us.”

“I’m just glad we both got through the weekend without any work emergencies.” The inn is in good hands, as Selena has finished her training to become your new manager and she and Malachi are running the place as smoothly as ever between them in your absence.

“Yeah, me too.” He takes a sip of the wine and sighs softly. “Part of me doesn’t want to go back. Just live in the hotel and run away from responsibility.”

“You would miss work pretty soon.” He loves his job, and you know that. It’s a very serious point of pride even though it’s very taxing on him sometimes. “My offer still stands, my love. Whenever you decide to retire from the FBI, you have my full support.”

“I know, and I’m very grateful for your support.” He promises. “It will come eventually, but I’m happy in my career right now and my team is excellent.”

“As long as you’re happy, I’m happy,” you promise him. With Marcus it’s always about support and communication, so having the small check-ins often is key.

“How about you?” He asks. “The inn is becoming even more popular and nearly full every night.”

“It’s nice that we’re not seeing the after affects of the smear campaign anymore.” It seems like the good will from your social media posts surrounding wedding planning has really worked to verse the damage Sam did months ago, and ever since the holidays the inn has been booked solid. “I’ve been thinking about adding an afternoon tea,” you admit, giving him a sheepish look. “Syd’s sous chef is English and French trained and the three of us were thinking about trying out an Italian-inspired tea service for Mother’s Day.”

“Like the tea cakes and sandwiches?” Marcus smirks slightly. “I can see that being a real draw.” He admits. “Older ladies coming in to socialize and then young girls coming in to learn how to take tea. Paninis and cannolis. Cups of tiramisu.”

“Teacups full of individual tiramisu was Syd’s first idea.” It’s sweet to see him get excited and you glow with pride. “I thought it would be nice to give Syd this Mother’s Day off but she came back with a whole new business idea.”

“I think she’s imagining Constance having tea there, with our girls when they are old enough.” Marcus smiles at the thought.

“It’s a beautiful thought.” The dreaminess on his face is obvious, making your heart swell at the promise of growing the family you’re building with this man. Your other half. Your better half. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.” He promises softly, his own dreams for the future in his eyes. “I have your present, to show you how much.”

“I thought my roses were my present?” In fact, you and Marcus must have given the hotel staff a good chuckle this weekend, because you both ordered a dozen long stem red roses to the hotel room — addressed to each other — that arrived with your breakfast tray with room service this morning.

He gives you a look, one that tells you that you are being ridiculous and moves to his bag to pull out the lovely wrapped gift he had brought for you.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you laugh, sliding his gift out from under your pillow to hand over to him.

He huffs at you, even as a grin tugs at the corners of his mouth. “You should know that roses were going to be your only Valentine’s Day gift.” He hadn’t been expecting anything, and his eyes soften at the sight of a gift for him.

“They weren’t going to be your only gift either,” you tut. But sitting up together in your hotel bed, naked with glasses of wine and hearts utterly full, seems like the perfect time to exchange gifts. “This looks suspiciously like a jewelry box, Agent Pike.”

“I don’t know what you could possibly mean.” Marcus pleads his innocence, even as he smirks.

“Mmhmm.” Giggling to yourself all over again, you nudge Marcus’s package toward him so you can both open them at the same time.

“I need you to open yours first.” He wants to watch your expression and put it on you if you want.

“Very mysterious.” You eye him but obey, pulling open the ribbon on the little wrapped box and tear away the dark red paper to reveal a silver jewelry box — exactly as you suspected. When you remove the lid, a small gasp of surprise and wide eyes come with an open mouth reaction. “Is this…?” The delicate silver necklace inside has a heart pendant hanging from it in the center, but the back clasp is on display in the box: a lock, not a claw.

“A collar.” Marcus nods, watching you seriously as he picks up the small, ornate key and showing it to you. “We’ve talked about it, teasing about it, but I found this and I couldn’t stop thinking about it.”

"Honey, it's beautiful." To the outside observer, the inconspicuous little heart is a sweet token of love from your soulmate. For you and Marcus, it's a next step into the world that you've been exploring together. "I wouldn't have been able to stop thinking about it, either."

“You know you have me, every single part of me, and I have you.” He reaches out and caresses your neck. “This would be between us. Our little secret from the world. My claim on you.”

The little lock on the necklace is meant to be done for you, and you raise your eyes back to Marcus. "Will you do the honors?"

“Do you want to wear my collar, sweetheart?” He asks seriously. “Keeping me close to your heart every day?”

"I really do," you lean across the small expanse to kiss him, just as soft and steadily as the rhythm of your heartbeat. "Even though you're already in my heart every single day. This is just another way to show the whole world."

Marcus hums as you hold out the necklace to him and he carefully unlocks it. “I don’t ever want you to feel like you can’t take it off.” He tells you as he wraps it around your neck and closes the lock to secure it around your neck.

"I know I can always ask you." There are some occasions when it won't be appropriate -- State dinners, your wedding, the fanciest things that you'll do in your lives -- but each and every day of your life the necklace will either go on or off and that means that Marcus will always be with you even when he's away.

Once the necklace is locked around your neck, Marcus leans in and presses his lips to it and your skin gently.

"I feel a bit like I underdid it now," you admit, touching the necklace gently with your fingertips. "But I still hope you like it."

He snorts, not even able to imagine you not putting incredible thought and time into his gift. He picks up the box and shakes it like a kid at Christmas, grinning at you. “Nahhhh, sounds fun.”

"Oh yeah." You snort and wave one hand casually. "I figured Lincoln Logs were the most romantic gift possible."

He laughs and shakes his head as he starts to unwrap the beautiful paper. “Whatever it is, I appreciate you getting me something.” He murmurs. “A lot of women seem to think valentines is only for them.”

"You are the most romantic man on the planet." While he works open the paper you lean back in the pillows and toy with your new necklace. "I couldn't possibly leave you out of the celebration this weekend. That would be awful."

“You would be surprised how often it happens.” He knows you wouldn’t and it makes him appreciate you even more. “Babe….” he freezes when he opens the box and sees the lighter that is nestled into the protective fabric. “Is this— it’s a 1939-45 World War II Trench lighter.” He murmurs, admiring how the patina on the metal is meticulously cared for. “How did you know to get this?”

The awe on his face is enough to tell you that you made the right decision, and you leave a kiss on his cheek with pleasure. "I may have dug in your eBay search history a little," you admit without shame. "Your lighter collection is a point of pride and I know you want to keep growing it."

“I- I love it.” He promises you, leaning in and pressing his lips to yours. “So many of these have been lost or discarded but they all have so many stories ingrained in every flick of the flint.”

"The shop I got it from had a little history of previous owners." The handwritten card is tucked inside the lid of the cigar box, and you nudge Marcus to keep going. "You have to keep unwrapping, though."

“There’s more?” He huffs, rolling his eyes playfully and carefully setting the lighter aside to pull out a box of cigars. “Very nice.”

His smile makes you glow, so happy to see him accepting these shows of love and tokens of affection. "Now that you have a porch to sit out on at night, I thought you should be able to enjoy an indulgence you couldn't have while living in an apartment or the inn."

“That is as long as you don’t hate the smell.” He eyes you, even as he opens the box and pulls out a cigar to smell, groaning at the aroma.

"I called your dad to make sure I got the ones you and he smoke when we're in Texas," you admit. "So I already know I like the smell of these."

“Good.” He chuckles quietly and kisses you again. “You’re perfect, you know that?” He asks. “The universe couldn’t have chosen better.”

"I was just thinking the same about you." Nudging his nose with yours brings a smile to both of your faces. The perfectly contented kind of smile that is somehow both enraptured and at peace all at once. "So I'm very glad we agree."

“That’s why we are soulmates.” He reasons, giddy to be celebrating the holiday with his soulmate, his fiancée and the woman he will spend the rest of his life with.

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

HHL: @haileymorelikestupid @anoverwhelmingdin @storiesofthefandomlovers @missladym1981 @babeincolor @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Marcus Pike #Marcus Pike x you #Marcus Pike x reader #Marcus Pike x female reader #Marcus Pike x f!reader #The Mentalist #soulmate au #First Daughter reader #Juan Badillo #Graceland #Juan Badillo x f!OC #Juan Badillo x OC #PrincessPike2018 #PikeWedding2018 #WhiteHouseWedding2018

80 notes · View notes

clarisse0o · 2 months

Text

Camp Wiegman - Part 11

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternative Universe : Military School

Words : 4k

Masterlist

———————————————————————

Sunday, November 1; 7:45 PM - Cafeteria.

I deeply regret Bronze' idea. She convinced me to eat in the cafeteria tonight. I've regained some color, and she decided it was time to reintegrate me. I still have a slight fever, but my nausea has completely disappeared for the day. I might even be able to return to my room tonight and go back to class tomorrow if my night goes smoothly. According to her, it would have been better for me to stay one more night in her room, but Wigeman insisted otherwise. She doesn't want me to miss another day, not being one to grant her students absences easily. Here we are in front of the cafeteria, with my spirits in the gutter. I don't even know what I'm doing here. I have barely eaten all week. Bronze has forced soup on me since Thursday, but I'm getting sick of it. Most of the time, it ended up in the basin a few hours later. She’s lucky I’m no longer as stoned or sore, or I wouldn't have even gotten out of bed. Now that I'm standing in front of the doors, I dread going in. She promised we’d go later to avoid as many people as possible, but it’s Sunday night. Everyone is back from their weekend, so the people who eat at the cafeteria come at various times. Bronze knows these kinds of details perfectly and failed to remind me. I feel all eyes on me as we walk through the doors. I stare at my shoes to hide my horrible face. I had to make the effort to replace my pajamas with simple jogging pants and a casual sweater to look at least somewhat presentable.

"I can't," I say, trying to turn back.

"Hey, Ona," says Bronze, holding my arm. "You promised you'd try to eat."

"Do you see all these people!?"

"What people?" she asks, looking around the room. "There are barely thirty people. That's hardly ten percent of the capacity."

"Please, Bronze..."

I pout to show her my discomfort. It's not like me to beg. I feel like a weakling. However, I'm willing to do anything to get what I want, even set aside my pride. She crushes my plan by gripping my shoulders.

"Look at me," she orders, and I comply. "I promise they won’t say anything. You need to think about yourself. You need to eat."

I turn my head toward the exit door next to us. It would take just three steps to reach the hall. Bronze interrupts my thought by gripping my chin, forcing me to face her insistent gaze. I know she won’t let this go. I sigh, knowing she's doing this for my own good. I need to regain my strength by eating something substantial. It’s the first day I’ve been able to move around on my own, but I haven’t fully regained my strength. I doubt I can carry a full tray.

"Okay, fine..." I concede.

"Will you be alright?"

"Yeah..." I mumble.

"Come on, go ahead and tell me what you want," she says, pushing me toward the buffet.

"I’m not taking a tray...?"

"One for the both of us will suffice," she says, placing our utensils on it. "It’s not like you’re going to have a full meal."

I bite my lip, thinking she’s probably right. At least that solves my tray problem. I look at the appetizers while she slides the tray along the rail.

"I’m not asking you to take everything, but at least pick a dish and a yogurt. Does that work for you?" she suggests.

I nod, glancing at her. She grabs an appetizer before we move on. What she picked would tempt me if I were hungry. However, that's not the case today. The food they serve us isn’t that bad. It’s not up to the standards of what Sam makes at home, but it’s edible. Contrary to what one might think, we’re rarely served frozen food. The school makes sure to order and cook fresh products. I think that's good. That wasn’t the case at my public high school in Miami. The next step is the main dishes. I give a timid smile to the employees who seem happy to see me, judging by the light in their eyes. I know most of these people from my punishments imposed by Bronze. They were very kind to me, surprisingly.

"Your flu is finally gone?"

I frown, not understanding why the cook is asking me that. I look to my supervisor for answers. She smiles at them and places a reassuring hand on my shoulder.

"She felt better today," she announces. "She didn’t want to get out of bed, but I managed to convince her."

"Good to hear," he replies. "What can I get you?"

I look at what’s available. Once again, the food is tempting, but the appetite isn't there. This makes me question my presence here again.

"Come on, Ona, make an effort to take something," Bronze encourages.

"Just pasta with sauce."

"No meat?" he asks.

I shake my head no. He smiles and fills a plate, which he hands to Bronze. He prepares a plate for her as well while I continue to move forward. I skip the dairy section and head for dessert. I decide to opt for an apple instead of yogurt. Once we’re done, I’m grateful to Bronze when she suggests we eat in the educators' section. There’s not much difference since only rectangular flower pots separate the two areas, but it’s better than being among the students.

"Come on, sit there," she says, tapping a chair facing away from the cafeteria.

"Thank you," I breathe.

It’s strange to be on this side, but I’m not going to complain. She smiles as she places my plate in front of me. I look at her with a grimace stretching across my face.

"Are you okay?" she asks for the umpteenth time.

"I feel like throwing up."

She chuckles at my disgusted expression. The soups may have gone over my head, but the idea of a full meal is overwhelming.

"Come on, eat a bit. I’m not asking you to finish the plate, just fill your stomach."

"Tsss. If I throw up all night, you’ll be the one cleaning it up, I warn you."

"That’s already what I’ve been doing from the start," she laughs.

I don’t retort, realizing it's true. I sigh and reluctantly bring the fork to my mouth. The first bite feels mushy. It’s like rediscovering food. She smiles with satisfaction and starts her own meal. I rest my heavy head on my palm, watching her.

"Why did the cook mention the flu?" I ask.

"Wiegman passed off your absence as the flu. Only she and the instructors in charge of you know the truth."

"Why?"

"To avoid spreading the news," she shrugs. "She has a reputation to uphold, you know."

Obviously. Interests over truth. It’s not even worth commenting on. I continue to eat my pasta, most of which sticks in my throat. I manage to swallow half before feeling stuffed.

"Do I really have to go back tomorrow?"

"I guess so, yes."

"And if I don’t feel ready?"

"Are you getting depressed?" she smiles.

I lower my head, playing with the rest of my dish. I really don’t want to go back to class tomorrow. I have a bad feeling. I still feel a bit unwell, and it’s too sudden. Bronze places her hand on mine to stop my circular movements in my plate.

"What’s wrong? I’ve known you to be more tenacious than this."

"What if I have a withdrawal episode in the middle of class? It’s not out of the question, you know that, right?"

"Calm down, Ona. Everything will be fine. Anyway, it's just a possibility. You still need to have a peaceful night."

"Can I make myself throw up right now?"

Bronze laughs softly, removing her hand. I already miss her reassuring warmth. I don’t find it funny. I’ve thought it through and could seriously consider it if it meant staying one more day in my room or hers. I have no desire to go back tomorrow. She seems to understand I’m serious because her smile fades, and she raises an eyebrow, appearing to judge me.

"Are you going to talk to me?"

"There’s nothing to say... I just don’t feel ready," I admit timidly. "I don’t know... Maybe others will figure out the truth by looking at me? I’m sure there are plenty of junkies here."

"It’s not like it’s written on your forehead."

"Who knows?" I half-joke.

"Well," she sighs. "I’ll try to negotiate one more day for you. But Tuesday you’ll go back to class no matter what. OK?"

I’m sure my eyes sparkle with happiness. I didn’t think she’d go so far as to grant me an extra day. If I had known, I would have spoken to her sooner. I nod enthusiastically, creating a mischievous smile on her face that doesn’t bode well.

"However, it’s not without condition."

I groan in frustration, letting my head slide from my palm. Damn, it was too good to be true! I sit up to look at her with puppy eyes.

"No need to look at me like that."

"What’s the price?"

"You need to regain your strength, so I want you to finish your plate and eat your apple," she orders in a more serious tone. "If you succeed, I’ll speak to Wiegman. If not, I won’t bother. Deal?"

"Deal," I say, already regretting it.

"Perfect," she smiles. "I’ll let you eat and come back to get you. In the meantime, I need to check on others."

I nod, watching her leave with her tray. She also ate less than usual. I think she’s staying on the lookout. I prefer it that way. Once she disappears, I turn around to see if anyone noticed me. I recognize one of my friends, who seems absorbed in her conversation. I wonder what excuse Bronze used to explain my absence to them. I haven’t spoken to them since last Sunday. I’ll have to be honest with them one day. I eat my pasta, though I doubt I'll manage to finish the apple.

"I remembered Friday night. You know, when you ended up just as soaked as I did."

"Is this how you thank me for helping you?"

I giggle at her clearly exaggerated offended look. She kicks my shin under the table, immediately calming me down without erasing my smile.

"Admit it was funny looking back on it."

"How can you remember that? You were completely out of it."

"I have no idea, but it's worth remembering, I laugh even harder."

This time she laughs with me, shaking her head.

"Stop making fun of me. I have plenty of dirt on you from this past week too."

"Go ahead."

"Not now. I'll save it for when I'm in a tough spot."

"Of course, I roll my eyes."

I hand her another piece of apple, which she accepts without protest. Finally done! She stacks our plates on her tray.

"Let's go, I still need to see Wiegman because of you."

"Sorry, but I really don't want to go back to class tomorrow."

"This is the last favor I'm doing for you. Make sure to get back to your life quietly starting Tuesday and catch up on all your missed classes."

"You're really depressing when you want to be."

"I know."

She smiles proudly. We're the last ones in the room with the staff cleaning the kitchen. I help Bronze clear the tray, then we leave the dining hall to return to her room. She drops me off and immediately heads to administration. I take advantage of being alone to take a shower and put on my pajamas. A slight headache returns when I lie down in bed. I sigh, thinking it can't be more unbearable than what I've been through this week. I turn off the light and try to find sleep. Just as I'm about to succeed, Bronze reappears in the room. Her first instinct is to turn on the light, making me groan into my pillow.

"What's wrong with you? Why were you in the dark?"

"Because I maybe wanted to sleep?"

"At nine p.m.?" she chuckles.

"Shhh, I groan. Turn off the light!"

I pull the blanket over my head to block the light that's worsening my headache. She turns it off a second later and crouches beside me. The back of her hand rests on my forehead, making me sigh.

"No, I don't have a fever. I just want to sleep."

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yes, Bronze."

"Well, I'm going to shower then. Sleep well."

I turn my back to her and pull the blanket over again. I hear her sigh before a door slams. I lower the blanket to get some air. She turned off the main light but left my bedside lamp on. I hear the shower running in the next room. I can't fall back asleep. I toss and turn, but it's useless. Bronze comes out of the bathroom before I manage to fall asleep. She ignores me and heads to her bed behind me. I wait a bit before rolling over. I'm surprised to see her on a computer. In a week, I've never seen her on one. She usually prefers books. I even thought she didn't have one since I didn't find any when I turned her room upside down a few weeks ago. She must have brought it from home. I smile when I notice glasses on the end of her nose. It's the first time I've seen her wearing them. It's weird seeing her with them, but they suit her. She turns her head towards me after a moment of silence.

"I thought you wanted to sleep?"

"I can't anymore..."

"Sorry, I thought you were joking. Are you feeling unwell?"

"No, just tired and a bit of a headache."

"Go back to sleep then."

"Easier said than done. And with the light and all..."

"Do you want me to turn it off?"

I shake my head. The desire to sleep has passed since she returned. She stares at me without speaking.

"Has anyone ever told you that glasses suit you?"

"Yes," she chuckles." But thanks for the compliment. I was going to watch my series. Want to join?" she offers.

"Which one?"

"Game of Thrones."

"Oh, yeah," I say enthusiastically." What episode are you on?"

"I just started. I'm mid-season one", she says, sitting up.

The idea is appealing; I love this series! I lean against the wall, pulling the blanket up. She swings her legs out of bed, keeping her laptop on her knees. The Apple logo dazzles my eyes as she types. When she finishes, she places it on a chair she moves closer so we can both see the screen. She presses play and positions herself like me in her bed. As for me, I finally lie down, noticing I can see the screen from this position too.

"Bronze?" I ask after a while.

"Hmm?"

"So what did Wiegman say?"

"That it's okay, but it's the last day she'll give you. As I suspected, you won't be able to get out of it on Tuesday."

"How did you persuade her?"

"Doesn't matter."

"What does that mean?"

"Nothing," she chuckles. "The how is just administrative, it's my job. The important thing is the answer, right?"

"Hmm..."

Her answer hurts. "It's just administrative." "It's my job." So I'm nothing more than a job to her? I thought she did it because she understood me. I turn my head when I feel her gaze on me. A silly smile spreads across her lips.

"What now?"

"Nothing..."

"I can feel you thinking from here, and I'm not putting up with it through the whole episode."

I ignore her, focusing on the screen. Now I feel foolish for thinking she might care about me. She sighs and pauses the episode. She keeps staring at me, but my eyes stay fixed on the screen. I don't want to give her the satisfaction or she'll win.

"What do you want to know?"

"Nothing, it's fine."

"You're so stubborn when you want to be. Too bad for you."

I bite my lip. Damn it. My curiosity gets the better of me. I speak just before she presses play.

"Why don't you want to tell me?"

She looks up at me, keeping a neutral expression. I feel stupid. I always seem to ruin good moments.

"Because there's nothing to say. You shouldn't worry about the how. That's my problem, but if you must know, I said you still felt unwell and weren't ready. Nothing more, nothing less. Can I resume now?"

I think I made her angry. I hide the blush forming on my cheeks by rubbing my head against the pillow.

"No need to get mad. You could have told me right away."

"No, it's none of your business. The liaison with Wiegman is my job. You really need to learn to trust me."

"It's not about that."

"Yes, it is, and you know it as well as I do."

I sigh, lowering my head. Yeah, she's probably right, even if we're not thinking about the same thing right now. Now that I know she's doing this just as part of her job, I'm afraid she'll tell Wiegman everything I confided in her. I haven't opened up like this in a long time, and I don't know how I'll take it if she repeats it. Our relationship has evolved a lot in a week, but not in the way I thought.

"Trust goes both ways... I tell you things, unlike you."

"I'm not your friend, Ona. I'm your instructor, even your supervisor. I'm not supposed to bond with you beyond this relationship. I'm not going to tell you about my life. My role is to guide and help you. The liaison with Wiegman is part of that."

"You ruin everything."

"Why? "she frowns.

"I really thought you liked me."

"I do. You're my student."

She doesn't understand. For once, it's not me. I cross my arms and sink into my bed. She sighs deeply.

"What now?"

"Nothing."

"Yes. Spill it now that we're here."

"I opened up to you. I confided in you and even let you shower me. God knows how hard it was for me to let you do that! A simple supervisor wouldn't have done that! You even gave me a birthday present. I thought you liked me more than any other student for doing all that."

"You're not just any student, you're my student."

"Great, I say sarcastically."

"Stop sulking. I've always acted professionally. You knew what to expect in the evolution of our relationship. Sorry if you felt differently."

"Yes, you're right. I misinterpreted things."

She sighs, watching me. She surprises me by getting up and sitting on my bed. I instinctively pull back and turn my head away.

"Stop acting like a child, Ona."

She forces me to look at her by holding my chin. Her green eyes pierce through me.

"Let go of me!"

I try to pull away, but she releases my chin to hold my head. I can't escape her now. I could close my eyes, but I'd look even more ridiculous than I already do.

"Ona, I really like you. You're different, and that makes you special. Your case intrigues me, and it makes me want to invest more in you than the other students to help you change. However, it won't change our status. I'll never offer you friendship or anything like that. Can you understand that?"

"Yeah," I grumble." At least I won't be fooled twice."

"Don't take it that way."

"Yes, the message is clear."

"This shouldn't change anything between us, she says, making me laugh bitterly."

"It's not for you to decide."

"Ona..." she sighs.

"I got fooled by imagining things, but it won't happen again."

"I don't want you to become that insufferable student again just because of a misunderstanding."

I don't respond. There's nothing more to say on my end. She releases my head, sighing once more. She admits defeat and goes back to her bed. She resumes the series, which I keep my eyes on, trying to ignore her gaze on me. I thought we had moved past professionalism. Sure, I don't expect a great friendship, but at least a slightly more friendly relationship instead of sticking to statuses. It seems I was just daydreaming. When I leave here, she'll go back to being the unpleasant commander.

"I see the defiant girl you were in the first days."

"She never left. Looks like I wasn't the only one imagining things."

"Don't lie to yourself, she scolds. You're far from the girl who came here a month ago, and you know it."

"Hmm."

"Fine, as you wish."

She focuses on the series, creating a deathly silence. I can't even follow the episode anymore. The conversation keeps spinning in my head. Will she change when we go back to our normal lives? Hard to say, but it's scary. She's taken care of me so much since the beginning. I'm almost glad she was assigned to my case. The episode ends. Fortunately, I've seen it before because I haven't followed it since our exchange. I'm barely staying awake, but I hold on. I don't want to sleep being on bad terms with her. Deep down, I know she won't change her behavior.

"Bronze...?" I call her timidly.

"Hmm?"

"I'm sorry. I don't know why I got upset. I imagined things... I don't know, I sigh. I knew what to expect, and I should never have said what I said."

"I know, Ona. Rest now, I can see you're forcing yourself to stay up until the end."

"Hmm... Good night, Bronze."

"Good night."

My heart is much lighter now. Hopefully, I'm not wrong. I take a deep breath before letting my eyelids close on their own. I feel like I'll sleep well tonight for the first time in a long while.

#woso #lucy bronze #woso community #barca femeni #ona batlle #woso soccer #lionesses #sefutbol fem #ona batlle x lucy bronze

60 notes · View notes

the-0ther-mother · 2 months

Text

17/100 days of productivity

Saturday, 3 August, 2024

My exams are done. I hope i passed the last one. I still haven't gotten the marks back yet so there's still hope. I just have this last job to do and I'll be free of a bit.

I'm still working on my astrology presentation and my deadline is officially on the fifth cuz we'll be filming it on that day. We postponed it a lot but i still don't have it done yet. I don't like how much time it's taken me to write this but it it what it is.

🪐 finished the slides for 3 signs

🪐 finished the slides for 2 planets

I have one last day of working on the slides tomorrow and i have to finish 1 slide for pisces, 5 slides for planets, 12 slides for houses and also 2 slides for introduction. I don't know when I'll do the research and the slides for the aspects so I'm kinda quietly going crazy over that but it has to be done. There is no other way.

I did my Italian lesson on Duolingo today. I've been missing a lot of days there this week. It hasn't been great. I just want this project to be done so i can breathe and do other things. I'll get there. I'll get there.

I found out today that my library won't be working past 7 pm in August so I'll have to go there even earlier tomorrow so i can fit my work in. I'm constantly surprised by how slow i work and how easily i get distracted as if I'm not constantly thinking about my adhd. Wow, my disability disables me daily. Who would have thought.

Go to sleep, love.

Arrivederci <3

29 notes · View notes

angesaurus · 1 month

Text

Back to real life tomorrow — I have to be at school @ 8:15 but they are having breakfast for us at 7:45 😵‍💫 it’s probably bagels and I don’t like bagels so I’ll probably slide in around 8 😂 I am trying to get into the mindset that I am going to wake up early and exercise for at least 20 minutes. I think it will be a good way to kinda get ready for the day/keep my mind busy. I won’t have much time after work this week and honestly it’s so dumb I really just need to get my ass in gear again!!!!

29 notes · View notes

rorywritesjunk · 9 months

Text

I can’t tell where the journey will end But I know where to start

Prequel to my Kid Buggy fic, set about 11-ish years before that story.

Buggy meets you by chance when he needs his buttons sewn back onto his jacket. He’s young, up and coming, and he thinks everyone should cower before him wherever he goes, but all you do is smile at him.

Rating: PG-13ish just for some swearing.

Warning: Buggy’s in his early 20s. He’s an asshole. He just is because I wanted to write him loud, demanding, everything. This is still a bit of fluff, honestly. Also Buggy gets drunk near the end of the chapter. He's also just a bit clingy but we kind of knew that at this point.

A/N: I have no idea when Buggy became a Captain, so he’s a fresh faced captain in this. No clue how long this fic will be.

Title comes from “Wake Me Up” by Avicii.

TAGLIST: @lostfirefly @ane5e @kingofthemfingpirates @the-angriest-angel @tiredemomama @valen-yamyam16 @i-reblog-fics-i-like @plethora-of-fickleness @uhnanix

Chapter 1 + Chapter 2 + Chapter 3 + Chapter 4 + Chapter 5 + Chapter 6 + Chapter 7 + Chapter 8 + Chapter 9 + Chapter 10 + Chapter 11 + Chapter 12 + Chapter 13 + Chapter 14 + Chapter 15 + Chapter 16 + Chapter 17 + Chapter 18 + Epilogue

Chapter 12

He didn't want to wait.

Buggy was impatient. You told him it was another two months until you were officially done with your apprenticeship. That was 8 weeks. 60 days. Could he wait that long to ask you to marry him? It wasn't like the two of you were going to get married minutes after he asked, right? So he could ask, give you a ring, and seal the deal. That's all he had to do.

Right now he was sitting in the kitchen after dinner while you fixed his gloves. You said there was something wrong with the stitching with one of them, something you had noticed earlier in the day, and he wasn't going to argue with you since you were the professional with this kind of stuff, not him.

So while you fixed his gloves, he told you about some of his adventures on the sea in recent years, about fighting off more vicious crews, claiming victory, and all the treasure he found. You listened intently as you ran your fingers over the seams of one his gloves while your sewing kit sat untouched on the table.

He didn't need to know it was a little lie to spend more time with him.

“That's amazing, Buggy!” You told him as he finished his latest tale. A small part of you wondered about how true some of what he told you was, but you didn't really care. You liked seeing how animated he became when he spoke, hands gesturing wildly and his expressive face. It was a nice sight to see. “I'm almost done with your gloves.”

“Take your time, babe.” He grinned as he leaned back in his seat, watching as you looked over the gloves. They were both inside out while you checked over the seams of one of them. “Everything okay?”

“Mhm, just wanted to make sure the seams were strong, that's all.” You replied as you finished up. “They should be fine now.”

“What do I owe for this?” Buggy asked, watching as you worked.

You shrugged as you handed them back to him, watching him slide them back onto his hands. “I take lunch dates for payment.”

“Tomorrow then?”

“Don't you have the seas to conquer?” You chuckled. “Aren't you tired of me yet?”

He reached across the table, taking your hands in his own. “Never. I'll never be tired of you. I'm going to marry you so I want to start getting used to seeing you every day.”

You smiled and shook your head as you leaned back in your seat. “Yea, but you still have things to do.”

“I can stick around for another week.” Buggy insisted.

“You're sweet.” You said as you stood up from the table. “If you're sure, I imagine my boss can find more things for you to do around the shop.”

“Do I get paid at least?” Buggy frowned. You went over and gave him a kiss.

“You can share my bed, how about that?” You suggested as you ran your fingers through his hair, nails scraping against his scalp gently. He closed his eyes, leaning into your touch, nodding in agreement. “Good. I know Miss Pins already made a list. She'll appreciate the help.”

Wait, what. He opened his eyes and frowned. “She already has a list? Was this your plan, woo me to stay here and then put me to work?”

“No, no, not at all.” You chuckled. “But if it was, it seemed to work. Now, I’ll let you stay the night again if you want, but if you need to return to your ship I understand.”

He probably should return to his ship, but he didn’t want to be away from you. Now that he knew he was going to marry you, even if he had to wait (he really didn’t want to wait), it was harder for him to spend even an hour away from you. There was still that thought of someone better coming along who would steal you away from him, and he didn’t want to risk that.

“Oh, Buggy, can I ask you something?”

Buggy looked up at you, still leaning against you as you stroked his hair. “Anything.”

“Well, after I’m done here, I’m planning on heading back to visit my parents for a bit. There’s usually a big family reunion.” You told him, twirling locks of his hair around your fingers. “Is that something you’d want to come with me for? I have a big family, so if it’s too much, I understand.”

Wait, meet the family? Was that something he would have to do? “How… big of a family?”

“Big.” You chuckled. “I can’t even count how many cousins I have.”

Honestly, no, it didn't sound like a good time to him but he should at least meet your parents, right? That's what people did. So he nodded, agreeing to this, even if he may end up regretting it.

“Thank you.” You smiled as you leaned down to kiss him. “I'll let you know when it happens.”

He begrudgingly did the list of things Miss Pins wanted over the course of a few days before he had to head back to his ship. The only good thing about doing those things was spending more time with you. He needed to do some kind of piracy after being away from the ship for a few days, so you kissed him before saying goodbye, which he was fine with.

Buggy was planning on finding the perfect ring. He didn't want to wait. He would come back with the perfect ring, a bouquet of flowers, and propose, even if you weren't done yet.

It was about three weeks before you saw Buggy again. He came bursting into the shop, throwing the door open before hunching over, panting heavily. You looked up from your work with Benji while Miss Pins stood at the counter. She raised an eyebrow as she gave him a look over.

“Where's the fire, Captain?” She asked as he slumped against the door frame. He managed to glare at her as he started to recover, but you got up and hurried over to him to help him to a chair.

“Buggy, what's wrong?” You asked as Miss Pins went to shut the door. “Why are you running?”

He held up a bouquet of petalless flowers for you, no doubt having been knocked around in the running. You took them from him with a smile while Benji pretended to gag. Then Buggy reached into his pocket and slid down onto his knees in front of you while taking your hand in his.

This was it. He had rehearsed what he had wanted to say as he ran to the shop, but it all left his brain as he looked up at you, feeling the gaze of Miss Pins and Benji on him as you just watched him. He stiffened up, sweating bullets as he stared up at you nervously. Were you going to say yes or was this just a lead up to a cruel joke from you?

“Wait, is he actually proposing to you, Sunny?!” Benji exclaimed. “Ew! Why?”

“Oh shush.” Miss Pins said, crossing her arms as she watched the scene in front of her. “He hasn't actually said anything yet. Sunny, you don't have to say or agree to anything, you know.”

“Just ignore them, Buggy.” You said, shaking your head. “You know my answer, you don't have to actually ask.”

“Y-Yea, but I can't just assume!” Buggy stammered as he held the ring up and you managed not to laugh. The stone on the ring was honestly as big as his nose, but bright blue in color and very, very impractical for you to wear on a daily basis since you used your hands for everything. He cleared his throat and tried to slide the ring onto your finger but it was unfortunately too small for your finger. Buggy looked defeated but you took the ring and pulled him up to his feet.

“The ring is too small.” Benji whispered to Miss Pins.

“He didn't actually say anything.” She muttered. You rolled your eyes at their comments.

“Yes, Buggy, I'll marry you.” You told him; his eyes widened and he stood up straight, glancing over at your boss and associate with a smug look on his face.

“Ha! I didn't even have to ask her.” He said rather proudly. “She accepted without hesitation.”

The two of them rolled their eyes, of course he would say that. You stuck your tongue out at them before turning back to give Buggy a kiss. He wrapped his arms around you, hugging you tightly before lifting you up and spinning you around excitedly.

“We’re getting married!” He cheered.

“Yes, yes, we are.” You laughed, patting him on the chest to put you down. “I only have a few more weeks, Buggy, then we need to visit my family.”

Oh, right, the family. Your massive family you mentioned. He was going to meet them. No, it would be fine. He wouldn’t let that worry him. He was a pirate captain, that had to impress some of them, right? It would be fine. Just fine. He didn’t need to worry.

You stayed the night with him on the ship. His crew wanted to celebrate their captain’s engagement with a loud party. While Buggy had been shy and flustered back in the shop when he asked, it was different when he was with his crew. He was showing you off, embellishing the story of your engagement, saying how you cried (you didn’t), how his speech wooed you (he didn’t say a word), and that you said you couldn’t wait to marry him (you didn’t say that but you did want to marry him). He was proud of the ring he stole and found a chain to string it on so you could wear it so it would deter others from chasing after you in the coming weeks.

It was fun, you had just one drink while Buggy got himself pretty drunk. It was past midnight when you finally convinced him to go to bed, and you ignored how red in the face he got when you said that, his drunken brain misinterpreting your words again when you led him to his room and helped him take his coat and shoes off.

“D-Dontcha wanna wait til the h-honeymoon?” He slurred. You rolled your eyes before draping his coat over the back of a chair and setting his shoes beside it. “I-I mean, I’m good, I’m up for anything.”

“You need to sleep, Captain Buggy.” You told him as you took his bandana off next, helping shake his hair loose from being tucked under it for most of the day. “We aren’t having sex, okay?”

“Oh.” He frowned up at you, swaying a bit as he sat on the bed. “You wanna though, right? I don’t… my body doesn’t gross you out, does it?”

“It doesn’t, Buggy.” You assured him as you pulled the covers back on his bed. He rubbed his face and squinted in your direction.

“Are… are you staying the night?” Buggy asked. You sighed softly and nodded, smiling at him as you took your own shoes off before climbing into bed. His eyes lit up when you did that and he scrambled under the covers to latch onto you once you were under the blankets. “Really?”

“Yes, really.” You told him, kissing him on the forehead as he snuggled up against you, his head resting on your chest as your arms went around him. “I need to get used to it since I’m marrying you.”

He glanced up at you, face red as he smiled brightly. “You are, aren’t you! I’m marrying you and you’re gonna marry me and I’m gonna be the happiest man ever!”

This was a different drunk Buggy from the one you encountered on his birthday, and it was nice seeing him so happy, even if it was influenced by alcohol. You just stroked his cheek, smiling as he nestled his face against you as he closed his eyes. It didn’t take long before he was asleep, snoring loudly. And tomorrow you would wake up before him, fix him breakfast, and start your day back at the shop. It was only a few more weeks before you would be done, and it was a little sad and kind of scary, but you were excited to be moving onto a new chapter of your life with Buggy.

#buggy the clown #buggy the clown x reader #buggy x reader #buggy x you #buggy the clown x you #opla buggy the clown #opla buggy the clown x reader #opla buggy x reader #opla buggy the clown x you #opla buggy x you #buggy the clown x oc #buggy x oc #opla buggy the clown x oc #opla buggy x oc #sunny x buggy #one piece #one piece oc #one piece fanfiction

72 notes · View notes

forrksie · 3 months

Text

SILKMOON DOODLE REQUESTS

I will make a big post of my Moonie and Hornet comics tomorrow (with slides I have so far, it will be growing so I think I can edit my post?? Not sure how Tumblr works!) but meanwhile I would like to offer a couple/few easy doodles of Moon and Hornet so ask away. Nothing difficult pose wise and absolutely no hate/violence between the two! No fighting each other or anything like that either please. I love wholesomeness, vulnerability and deep connection so if anyone has any ideas that involve that, I might be able to do some DOODLE REQUESTS. As I work 7 days a week and have extremely tight work schedule, I just draw in the evenings. Please don't be offended if I won't choose your request (if there will be any haha), nothing personal!

#rain world doodle #silksong doodle #silkmoon #moonnet

26 notes · View notes

onthepyre · 1 year

Text

Steve's life is going to fall apart, he thinks.

Dustin's away at summer camp, Nancy's left for college two weeks early. He has a late shift at six, a house to return to that's emptier than usual, and a funeral to attend at eleven sharp tomorrow morning. His mother is writing a eulogy and his father is cold and pale in a box in some back room of the funeral home. He can't get the image out of his head.

At half past five, he shakes himself out of the stupor he's been sitting in. It's been at least twenty minutes since he's last moved, but really, who knows — all he's aware of is his aching back and the sharp pain in his neck from the hunched position he'd assumed at the kitchen table. Steve's car keys have left an imprint on his hand. He'd forgotten he was holding them. The Family Video vest is in his car, tossed haphazardly over the dash, and he shrugs it on over his gray polo before he pulls out of the driveway. Robin's house isn't far, something he's glad for. Less time he has to spend alone. Maybe she won't notice how tired he looks in the quickly dimming light.

She does. It's Robin, after all. Steve can't hide much from her.

"Hey, Stevie," she says as she slides into the passenger seat. Her voice is gentle, the way she might speak to an injured cat. "How are you doing?"

"It’s pretty bad," he tells her, and it feels like he's confessing to a crime. "I didn't get out of bed until, like, two hours ago and I still want to go back to sleep."

"Yeah?" she asks. He can tell she isn't sure what else to say.

"Yeah."

"I'm really sorry. I know that's pretty much the least helpful, most generic thing I could say, but I mean it. I can’t imagine how… how hard it must be."

There's a long pause. Steve starts thinking they're just going to drive in silence for the rest of the time, which is weird, especially for Robin. It makes him want to cry, sort of — that she, of all people, can't find anything to say to him. Inadvertently, he grips the wheel tighter.

"We'll close early," she says finally, timid in a way she usually isn't. "Keith can suck my dick, I don't care. He'll get over it. And we'll go get ice cream, if you want, and then I'll come stay over. If that's alright."

"Yeah," Steve answers, and God, there are tears in his eyes. "That would be great." He's careful not to let his voice catch.

"I'm thinking 8:00 — we'll start shutting down at 7:30 and be out by a quarter past. Then we've got almost an hour until Dairy Queen closes, unless you want to go somewhere else?" Out of the corner of his eye, Steve can see Robin twisting one of the rings on her left hand. Like a gut-punch, he knows it's the shitty tin band, the one he'd gotten out of a quarter machine at the arcade and fake-proposed to her with. She hadn't taken it off since that day.

Steve pulls into the parking lot, and turns to her once he's parked the car. She's still fiddling with the ring, so he reaches over to take her hand.

"Rob, listen," he says. "I'm not gonna fall apart. I'll be okay." He can tell that they both know it isn't true.

"You don't have to be," she tells him, and through slightly blurry vision, Steve can tell she's tearing up, too. "You can fall apart, it's all right. We'll put you back together. I'll be here the whole time."

Steve isn't sure why it's a problem, but he needs to make sure Robin doesn't see him cry. He gets out of the car and turns away. He can hear her, four feet away, doing the same.

———

The shift, short as it is, passes slowly and in relative quiet. Robin feels too far away, but the little bit of stability they've found since getting out of the car is fragile, winding between them like a spiderweb. If Steve reaches out, he'll break it.

They follow her schedule exactly, locking the door behind them at 8:15 — two hours before they're supposed to. Steve isn't one to get worked up about things like this, but he's even less worried than he usually would be. Nobody ever comes in on Thursday nights. The only people that will know are him and Robin.

"So, Dairy Queen?" she asks as she opens the door. "Or do you want to go somewhere else?"

"Dairy Queen is fine," he tells her. Nothing will really make him feel better, he thinks, but ice cream can't hurt.

The drive isn't long, but it feels like it. Steve can hardly stand whatever version of Robin this is, the one that's treating him like he's about to crumble at any second. She's right, but that's part of the reason it's getting to him so much. If the silence was unfounded, it wouldn't hurt so bad.

She insists on paying, and Steve almost can't stomach the sweetness of the Oreos. Robin gets M&Ms so he can pick at hers, too.

"So, how's band been going?" Steve asks, just to break the quiet.

Robin tilts her head a little. There's pity in her eyes.

"Pretty good," she says slowly. "The directors always get super uptight around concert season, so that's starting to kick in. We just got our last piece. It's this stupid hard classical thing — Stravinsky, I think — fuckin' Russians. It would be awesome, though, if we could play it right."

This is the Robin he knows. Fuckin' Russians, he thinks. It makes him smile.

"That's great. What's it about?"

"Oh, I have no idea," Robin says with a grin. "It’s from the Firebird, and it has something to do with hell, and it's impossible to play."

"I'll have to come to the concert." Steve holds her eye for a second, but when it goes on too long and her smile shifts to an expression of sympathy, he turns his gaze down into his blizzard.

"Steve…" she starts, but she leaves it there, reaching across the table.

"Can we go?" He squeezes her hand and she does the same.

"Yeah, of course. Come on, we can go straight to sleep if you want."

They do — or they try to. As soon as they're home and settled, Robin in a pair of shorts she'd left there and one of Steve's old shirts, Steve much the same, they spread out blankets on the floor of his room and try to sleep. Robin's presence is a comfort, but not enough for Steve to get the coffin out of his head.

"Can you talk?" Steve asks, rolling over in his bed to face her in the dark. "About anything you want, I don't care. Just say something. Ramble."

She reaches up to put a hand on the bed, and he places his on top.

"I love you," Robin begins. "The other day, I learned that a quarter of the world's population has tuberculosis. Well, not has, like they're sick with it, but they have the bacteria in them. That's insane. Tuberculosis is up there with rabies for me, you know? There's a new outbreak of it that's resistant to the treatments, and I know it's not likely we'd get it here in Hawkins, but man, it would suck so much. Especially if it was one of those drug resistant strains. We'd end up sad little waifs like in the Victorian era and we'd die a slow death and there would be nothing they could do."

"I love you," Steve responds. "Can you come up here, Rob?"

"Yeah, for sure."

Robin stands up and climbs into bed next to him. He can make out the shape of her, squinting at him. Neither moves for a moment.

"How are you holding up?" she asks.

Only then, in the darkness, does Steve let himself fall apart.

It comes on slowly, but he knows it's coming as soon as she asks. He can't speak around the lump in his throat, so he just sits there fighting tears until she reaches out and pulls him into her chest. He breaks then. He sobs in Robin's arms for a while as she rubs his back and whispers reassurances to him. He feels like a little kid.

"Sorry," he gets out as it starts to die down.

"Shh." She buries her face in his hair. "Don't. It's alright. I'm not going anywhere, Stevie. This is what I'm here for."

Steve is hit with another wave of tears, this time a mixture of grief and gratitude. Robin, true to her word, stays. She holds him tighter still as he clutches her like she's the only thing keeping him tethered.

"I love you," she says under her breath. "I love you. It's alright. I'm here. I love you. I've got you. I love you."

She keeps going like that endlessly, quietly, into the top of Steve's head. Only when the sobs have slowed to sniffles does Robin stop, and even then, she keeps running her hands across his back, occasionally punctuated by a kiss pressed to his hair. There, cradled like a toddler against her chest, Steve starts to put himself back together. They fall asleep like that, intertwined, at home.

#stranger things #st #stobin #platonic soulmates stobin #steve harrington #robin buckley #fanfiction #june's writing

59 notes · View notes

1waveshortofashipwreck · 6 months

Text

Should've Been Born Later, Nix - Chapter 6: The Plan

Easy Company x Fem!OCs

Chap. Synopsis: What will happen when the group forms a plan to get some answers?

Words: 3,677

Find the fic's navigation page here !!

Have a question/want to be on the taglist? Let me know !!

A playlist to go with the chapter!

Author's Note: WHAT IS UP MY DUDES IT'S TIME FOR CHAPTER SIX!!!! Be on the lookout for Chapter 7 dropping tomorrow night!! :D

“We’ll need a map, and equipment to pick locks and stuff,” Chrys answered Joe, hesitancy evident in her words. “I do have a lock-picking kit, but we might need other stuff to bypass the doors that have alarms on them.” The boys nodded along before Luz spoke up.

“Do you think the rest of the guys will go along with this?”

“I don’t know, but I don’t see any other option,” Malarkey barely finished his sentence before the group heard the apartment door unlocking. When the door opened, Zay stumbled through, pushed to the side by the disheveled frames of Roe and Guarnere. The men looked like they did after days in Bastogne - dirt caked into their skin, grass and leaves in their hair, clothes that were clean when they left now looking as if they're on their sixth week of wear. Speirs and Liebgott walked in after them. The soldiers had never seen the look of irritation on Speirs’ face - sure, they'd seen him aggravated or annoyed, but this expression seemed to be in a league of its own.

“What the fuck happened?” Luz asked the group, concern and bewilderment evident in his eyes.

“You don't want to know,” Liebgott muttered quietly as he sat down in the vacant armchair. Speirs immediately walked from the front door to the sliding glass that led to the apartment balcony, forcefully sliding the door closed behind him. Everyone stared out at the balcony frozen, until Zay spoke up.

“He’s just frustrated because these two almost got themselves hurt,” she explained, shooting a playful glare at the two unkempt paratroopers beside her.

“We got some good information though!” Guarnere replied proudly, placing a firm but friendly hand on Gene’s shoulder. The medic let out a quiet laugh and shook his head before Bull spoke up.

“So what’d y’all find out?” Zay reached into her backpack and pulled out what appeared to be a jacket with a camouflage pattern. It was sturdy - similar to the men’s army-issued jackets.

“We’re not quite sure if it’s useful, but it’s certainly interesting,” Zay explained as she showed the sleeves to the group. The men’s eyes widened when they saw the 101st airborne screaming eagles patch over the two chevrons that displayed the rank of corporal.

“Zay, you’re not gonna believe what we found out,” Chrys mused, eyes wide at the jacket. Chrys and her group regaled the newcomers with the rumors they read about, as well as the missing corporal.

“You don’t think that’s her jacket, do you?” Luz asked in disbelief.

“Well whose else would it be!?” Gonorrhea replied to the radioman… a bit more forcefully than he intended. There was a heavy pause before Dick broke the silence, looking at Zay with a pensive but nervous expression.

“We’re thinking about sneaking into Fort Liberty, see what we can find out,” Zay’s eyes widened behind her glasses.

“You can’t be serious…” the words fell from Zay’s lips with utter disbelief. “There’s no way… even if we wanted to… where would we even start?” The girl’s eyes darted around the group - every expression seemed to have glimpses of shock, fright, overwhelm, but also… focus and determination. If this was really the next step in their journey home, then they were going to do it right.

“We’d have to find some way to scope out the base beforehand, so we can understand how their security works,” Speirs’ voice delivered a jumpscare to the rest of the group, no one hearing him sneak back in from the balcony.

“And figure out how the base is laid out,” Nixon added.

“But the only way we can get on base is if we have a military ID,” Zay mentioned before Chrys spoke up.

“... not unless you’re a delivery driver.”

“Wait, so they’ll just let you on base if you’re a delivery driver?” Liebgott wondered aloud.

“Not exactly, you need to register your car and have a special ID card, but we can probably just look up how to do that on their website,” Zay replied before noticing the still-disheveled states of Roe and Guarnere. “Let me get y’all some fresh clothes and I’ll get my laptop and we can do some brainstorming.” Once Gene and Bill were taken care of, the twelve made a makeshift circle around the coffee table. Chrys kept her seat between Winters and Nixon, while Zay sat across from her sister on the floor, Eugene on her left and Guarnere on her right.

“Alright, so we need to figure out how to get on base, where we need to go, and what will stop us from getting there, right?” Malarkey listed out from his spot on the floor.

“We can get on base by registering as a delivery driver, and then once we’re on base we can figure out where everything is.” Chrys typed away on her laptop, making a checklist of what needed to be done.

“Right… what’s everything exactly?” Luz chimed in from his spot beside Toye.

“We could probably start with Colonel Gomez’s office, then from there we can see where he’s doing the experiments,” Speirs explained from his spot on the other side of Eugene. The group carried on like this until dark, forming their own version of the D-Day invasion, just with less planes and more… road trip playlists.

“Alright, let me see if I have everything here,” Chrys said. She made a few finishing keystrokes on her laptop before scrolling back up to the top of her list. Beside her, Lewis was in awe of the girl. Everything she did seemed to have an effortless air around it. It felt as though, at the snap of her fingers, Chrys could command the beer bottle beside her to bring itself to her lips of its own accord. Lewis would never admit to it, but her presence caused a level of butterflies to swell up in his stomach that he hadn't felt since he was in prep school. His eyes became fixated on her snakebite lip piercings - two black studs placed right below her lower lip. Lewis had never seen a piercing like this before, his mind started to wonder what it would be like to kiss her with those-

“Lew!” The man was shaken from his thoughts when Dick called his name. Nixon was broken from his trance and noticed the rest of the group staring at him expectedly, most notably Chrys. The dark-haired man took a beat before clearing his throat.

“I’m sorry, what’d you say?”

“Do you think you’d be able to help us decipher anything we find in Gomez’s office?” Zay asked from her spot on the floor.

“Well I’m not the intelligence officer because of my good looks!” Snickers could be heard around the room at Nixon’s comment before the conversation moved forward.

“So Zay and I will use the van from my garage and register it as a delivery car, then Nix, Speirs, and I will ‘deliver’ something to Colonel Gomez to find where his office is and scope out the place. Then from there, we can plan out how we want to do the second run,” Chrys explained to the group.

“Sounds good to me,” Winters piped up from his seat on the couch. His eyes kept finding their way to Zay, who could be seen whispering and laughing with Doc Roe beside her. Even when he felt a sting of envy seeing Eugene next to her, there was still a comforting warmth in his chest when he saw Zay scrunch her nose in laughter. Chrys noticed how Dick was looking at Zay and couldn’t help but smile. Chrys’ gaze abruptly moved to Guarnere when everyone heard his stomach growl, or rather, play the symphony of its people.

“Zay, why don’t you and I head to the kitchen and see if we have anything for dinner?” the dark-haired girl announced with a laugh before setting her laptop on the coffee table, stretching her arms over her head. Zay was quick to pop up and follow her twin into the kitchen, leaving Easy Company to their own devices, at least for a moment.

“I’m pretty sure we don’t have something that’ll feed everyone, do you wanna just order pizza tonight?” Zay asked nonchalantly as she looked in their fridge. Chrys simply leaned her back against the counter and let a snicker past her lips.

“You have no idea, do you?”

“... I mean I’m looking at our fridge right now and all we have is your veggie smoothies and my orange soda, ooh! And Peronis! When did we get these?” The nurse was in her own little world for a moment, pulling the cheap beer out of the fridge to share with everyone.

“I mean about Dick, don’t you see how he looks at you?” Zay turned around and met Chrys with furrowed brows, clearly confused.

“What do you mean?”

“He gives you the same heart eyes he does to Nixon in the first episode, when Nix is lighting his cigarette outside that tent.” Zay quickly shook her head before promptly setting the drinks on the counter and closing the fridge. She immediately pulled out her phone, desperate to focus on something else.

“You think they’d prefer Domino’s or Little Caesar’s?”

“Zay, I’m serious, I really think he likes you.” Chrys’ tone was quiet and serious, but gentle. Chrys was unsurprised at her twin’s avoidance of the subject - she knew Zay had a rough time in terms of relationships.

“Chrys he could have anyone he wants,” the girl said in a strikingly monotone voice - a stark contrast to her bubbly personality. She took a deep breath before continuing, “Besides, do you see how Nix looks at you?” Zay looked up from her phone, a smirk on her face. Before Chrys could finish her eye-roll, the two were shocked out of their skins as music came blaring unexpectedly from the living room. As Tainted Love filled every atom of air in the apartment, the twins scrambled into the living room to find Luz crouching in front of the entertainment stand, fumbling with the Bluetooth speaker as if it were a hot potato. Zay quickly knelt next to George and took his hands, turning the speaker so that she could reach the power button and turn the speaker off. The two sat like that for a second before Zay quickly pulled away, face bright red. She futilely prayed that Luz didn’t notice the rosy hue on her cheeks.

“I told you not to mess with that, dumbass!” Liebgott scolded Luz from his place on the floor.

“Great job, radioman,” Bull chimed in, chuckling as Luz bashfully rubbed the back of his neck. The poor man just wanted to see if he could figure out how to turn on the device to see what it was. While his mission was technically successful, George certainly did not intend to assault the eardrums of everyone in the tiny space.

“If y’all wanted a dance party, you could’ve just asked!” Zay said with a giggle. Most of the men shared in her laughter, while others felt their ears perk up at the idea of a dance party. “Why don’t we order some pizza and then I can show y’all how the speaker works?” Within the hour, the twins had educated the men from the 1940s on what toppings were available on their pizzas, as well as mediating the discussions for what was going on said pizzas. Now, all they could do was relax and wait for the delivery driver. Zay had started passing out the Peronis from the fridge (and a soda for Dick) when she heard her name.

“Zay, you said something about a dance party?” Nixon piped up from his seat, a mischievous smirk on his face. Her expression grew to match his as she pulled out her phone.

“Let me find a good playlist to show y’all the best music-”

“Zay I swear if it’s your Queen playlist…” Chrys interrupted, irritation in her eyes but a smile on her lips.

“Like, songs for the Queen of England?” Guarnere questioned the two - just when he thought 2023 could not get any more bizarre, now he knows the word “playlist” and is about to listen to music made for the queen of England. Zay simply laughed before returning to her phone.

“ONE song, then I’ll put on a playlist!” The blue-haired girl compromised with her sister before picking up the Bluetooth speaker. The boys were amazed when she seemed to only push a couple of buttons, and suddenly music was playing again from the speaker, and at a much more reasonable volume compared to earlier.

Toniiiiight, I’m gonna have mysellllf a real good time

I feel aliiiiiiiivvvvveeeee!

Zay was singing along to one of her favorite songs, she could not help but stand up and move along to the slow intro, waving her arms in big, dramatic motions to the lyrics. Everyone was laughing along with Zay’s hyperbolic display as she and her twin sang along with Freddie Mercury.

And the wooooorld, I’ll tuuuurn it inside ooouuut, yeah!

I’m floating arooooound in ecstacyyyy so

Don't- Stop me nooowww…

“Don’t! Stop me! Cuz I’m having a good time! Having a good time!” As the music crescendoed, so did Zay and her dancing. Even Chrys, moved by one of her favorite singers, got up and began dancing with Zay. The two moved like excited baby goats, hopping around the living room in time to Roger Taylor’s drumming. Some soldiers were getting into the vibes of the music with the twins, either dancing in their seats or trying to sing along, others were watching the girls with less than chivalrous eyes (Liebgott and Toye were the worst offenders), while Dick and Lewis simply watched in awe. Dick’s eyes were fixed on Zay, the way her hips were moving trapping the redhead in a trance that he would have been happy to stay in forever.

Lewis, on the other hand, could not decide where to focus his gaze on Chrys. From the smirk on her face, to her waist swirling side to side, to her legs moving in time with the music, to her arms wrapping themselves around Guarnere - wait… Nixon was brought back to reality when he saw the sergeant dancing with the black-haired girl, also noticing that the song had changed to something more… seductive.

Pour some sugar on me! In the name of love

Pour some sugar on me! C’mon fire me uuupp

Pour your sugar on me! I can’t get enouugh

I’m hot, sticky, sweeet, from my head to my feet

The intelligence officer felt a confounding mixture of emotions - absolutely enamored by Chrys and her movements to the music, uncomfortable with watching Guarnere’s movements to the music, jealous that Chrys was dancing with Guarnere… Nix just could not let this stand. “I’m going to Chrys, and I suggest you go to your little nurse before it’s too late,” Lewis muttered to Dick before he got up, gesturing to the girl in question as he made his way to the makeshift dance floor. Winters looked away and crossed his arms - yes, he wanted to spend time with Zay, but there were a few barriers at the moment Dick was wrestling with.

First, Dick does not dance. He will if he absolutely must, he can waltz… a bit, but for someone in peak physical condition, the officer has two left feet on the dance floor. Second, the tantalizing rhythms set forth by the music and Zay’s hypnotic movements caused Dick to feel a certain overwhelm that he has never felt before, and he was quite unsure how to handle it. He was sure, though, that if he tried to talk to Zay now, absolute gibberish would come out of his mouth. Third, Zay already had a dancing partner, and the Cajun man definitely knew how to dance. If the officer had not looked away, he would see that Eugene and Zay were dancing in perfect sync, as if they were the only two in the room.

Meanwhile, the rest of the boys were in their own little worlds, either dancing in the goofiest way possible, like Luz trying to mess with Toye, or simply sitting back and taking in the music, like Ron and Bull, sporting amused expressions from their seats. The twelve were abruptly all pulled back to the same reality when the doorbell rang - the pizza had arrived!

Zay took the pizzas from the delivery man while Chrys brought out plates and napkins. The night continued with more shenanigans brought about by both the music as well as the Peronis, both Zay and Chrys absolutely delighted in sharing the music of their time with the soldiers.

When I was, a young boy, my father, took me into the city, to see a marching band…

As the intro to Welcome to the Black Parade played, Zay dramatically serenaded the group, her off-tune voice endearing her to the tipsy men. Zay, being rather inebriated herself, noticed Dick casually sitting by himself, enjoying the party going on around him. While the leader considered himself to be more of an introvert, seeing his men, who had been working and struggling so hard throughout the war, finally getting to relax and have fun warmed his heart more than he thought possible. Suddenly filled with confidence, Zay slowly strutted over to the redhead, making eye contact with him as she made her way to the couch. While Winters offered her a smile, everyone could see the hue on his cheeks that matched his hair.

He said will you, defeat them, your demons, and all the non-believers, the plans that they have maaaddee…

The lyrics being sung were not exactly sultry, but the look in Zay’s eyes had Dick feeling things that he had not felt since before the war. In that moment, it was as if Dick and Zay were the only two in the room. The nurse stopped right in front of the captain, bending over to look into his emerald eyes. Past her glasses, Winters could see the mischievous sparkle in Zay’s eyes, his brain going a million miles a minute. Was this really happening? If it was a dream, Dick silently prayed he would never wake up.

Because one day, I’ll leave you, a phantom, to lead you in the summer, to join the Black Parade…

Zay softly sang to Winters, trailing a finger lightly down his cheek, taking in his handsome features. She began to wonder the same question as him - is this real? As she looked into his eyes and their faces grew closer, inch by inch, the girl could not help but steal a glance at his lips before a resounding crash broke the two from their mutual trance.

“Hey, watch where the fuck you’re going!” Guarnere shouted at Liebgott before the two started throwing punches at each other. It was later revealed that Joe stumbled back and accidentally put his elbow into Bill’s pizza, which he was thoroughly enjoying. The two tumbled to the ground before the rest of the group dove in to break them apart, Zay and Chrys included. After a horrendous struggle, the group had the angry boys separated, Guarnere holding his hand to his eye and Liebgott tasting blood from his split lip. After figuring out what happened, a couple of extremely heartfelt apologies, and some first aid provided by Zay and Roe, everyone agreed that it was time for bed. Well… almost everyone.

A while after everyone had gone to bed, Chrys heard the sliding door open from her place on the wicker chair that lived on the apartment’s balcony. She turned her head to see none other than Captain Nixon poking his head outside.

“Do you mind some company?”

“Be my guest,” she replied nonchalantly, gesturing for Lewis to sit in the chair on the other side of the small glass table, still needing to be dusted from the pollen drop of the day. Nixon gave Chrys a nod of thanks before sitting and pulling out his Lucky Strikes and lighter. He stretched his arm out to offer Chrys a cigarette before lighting his own. The girl politely shook her head, silently cursing how the dark-haired man made smoking look so attractive.

“Isn't it past your bedtime, doll?” Nixon said around his cigarette, the scratch of the flint in his zippo echoing off the brick wall.

“If I didn't know you were a night owl I could say the same to you,” Chrys retorted, not noticing Nixon’s flirtatious tone. The twins may be opposites in many ways, but one thing that ties them together is their obliviousness to a boy’s romantic advances.

The intelligence officer let out a snicker and shook his head. “You think you know everything about me because you’ve seen me on a TV show?”

“Well I know the number of times Dick had to pour your own piss on you to wake you up is one too many,” the words left Chrys’ mouth with a smirk that left Lewis weak in the knees. He threw his head back in laughter before taking another drag from his cigarette.

“First you clean the dance floor with my ass, then you bring that shit up,” he mused to himself, remembering earlier in the night. When Nixon went up to cut in on Chrys and Guarnere dancing together, the movement Chrys’ body created almost felt supernatural. Lewis tried to keep up with her, but he kept staring at the girl and tripping over two left feet.

“What’s the matter, Yale boy? You can dish it but you can’t take it?”

The two night owls continued their banter well into the night, only retiring when the first birds of the morning began to chirp. Chrys and Zay passed in the hallway - Zay was dressed in her scrubs and on the way to work. The blue-haired girl sent a smile over to her twin, “You awake yet?”

“Awake? It’s time to go to bed!”

~~~~~

Chapter 5 | Chapter 7

Taglist: @b00ks1ut , @blueberry-ovaries , @bucky32557038ww2 , @claudycod , @dontirrigateme , @easycompany123 , @emilee1421 , @executethyself35 , @hanniewinnix , @ithinkabouttzu , @jump-wings , @love--persevering , @panzershrike-pretz , @stolen94 , @xxluckystrike

Thank you again for reading!! Be on the lookout for Chapter 7 dropping Tomorrow!! 🥰✨

26 notes · View notes

orionsstory · 3 days

Text

that kind of devotion | anarcia (7)

yayy chapter seven is here :) as always, don't forget to check it out on ao3 !! and leave a comment if you liked it teehee

---

For the next two weeks, Marcia found herself texting Lotus every waking moment. During breaks, during dinner, any free time she had was spent laughing at her jokes or smiling at a picture she sent. She got to find out she loved ducks (through the several pictures she sent of the ones at the nearby park- Marcia didn't mind though) to her favorite song (Boss Bitch by Doja Cat, a song Marcia had found herself listening to nonstop lately). If she was lucky, Lotus would even call her after her patrol, and the two would talk for hours. They mostly talked about their day and the investigation, but sometimes Marcia would slip in a story about her growing up, or Lotus would tell her a story about Sasha. The two had grown much closer in the past two weeks, getting along like a house on fire.

Even now, she was sitting on the couch texting Lotus. She giggled at a text the other girl had sent before she was drawn out of her thoughts by someone nudging her leg. "I need to sit down too, you know." Luxx rolled her eyes as she sat down, handing Marcia her food. "Put your phone down and eat, you've been glued to that thing lately. It's your one day off and you've ignored me the whole morning!"

Marcia takes the food from her, "I'm sorry! It's just so...exciting! We've pretty much gone from talking a few times a month to every day, it's hard not to be so engrossed."

"Aww, she's down bad." Luxx teased her.

"No, I'm not down bad. I'm a lover."

"Marsh, that's the same thing."

"It's totally not! Well...maybe a little. Whatever..." She flushed in embarrassment, rolling her eyes. Luxx chuckled at her, "Isn't that sweet, you know I haven't seen you this excited over a girl since that one in college...what was her name again?" Marcia cringed at the memory, she had to admit she may have the tendency to fall for people quite easily, but Lotus wasn't the same.

"That's not the same thing. Lotus is different."

Luxx raised her eyebrow, so she continued, "She shows genuine interest in me. She cares about my theatre stuff and how my day is. She texts me pictures of cute dogs she sees because she knows I'll love them. She's...thoughtful. Also, she didn't forget my name after one date, so she's already leagues ahead of Caitlin."

Luxx laughed, "Oh my god, I forgot about that! What did she call you again? Maria?"

"Miriam. She said she knew it was some old lady's name."

"Oh my god, she was awful. I'm so glad that lasted like, two weeks."

"You and me both. Anyways, what were you thinking of doing?"

"Well, since we're all getting together after your show tomorrow, I figured we could just lie low today. We could go to that coffee shop you like and people-watch."

Marcia was sold. "You know me so well, Luxx."

"Of course I do. We've been friends for like 10 years, it'd be sad if I didn't. Now let's go, I want to get a good spot before it gets busy."

They arrived at the small shop, setting their items down on the counter facing the biggest window. Marcia took a seat, taking out her drawing supplies as Luxx went to grab their drinks. It had been a while since they had been able to do this- they used to do it all the time in college, watching the people pass by and wonder about their lives while they worked on essays or assignments. They would wonder about their own lives, and what the future would be like. Marcia likes to think her younger self would be proud of where she is now. It makes her smile.

"One tea with honey for you...and an espresso for me!" Luxx hums as she sits the drinks down, sliding onto the seat beside Marcia. She brings out her own drawing materials, peering out the window.

"I missed this. Feels like it's been forever since we've done this."

"I know, it feels like we barely have time anymore. I guess that's what it means to be an adult."

Luxx nodded, her pencil sketching across the page. "Such is capitalism. Ugh, I'm so antsy to get this collection done. We're almost ready to go into production, so my stress is mostly over."

"Oh, I'm excited to see the collection! You're taking me to see the show, right?"

"Who else is going to be my plus one?" She laughs, taking a sip of her drink. "Oh yeah, that's good. Fuck, I've missed good coffee. The office coffee is so shitty, Marsh. Oh my god, it's horrible."

Marcia smiled, opening her own sketchbook as she began sketching some of the people outside. "For a luxury brand, you would think they could afford a better coffee machine." She laughed, scribbling in a woman's dark coat. "Maybe they'll get you a new one for Christmas."

Luxx rolled her eyes, "Please, don't give me hope. Irene keeps saying she's going to fix it and improve it herself but we've been so swamped she hasn't had time yet." She looked up for her next target before selecting a man with a dog. "Look at that dog- isn't it cute? Ugh, I wish I was better at animals. It looks like a rat."

Marcia leaned over to look at the sketch, rolling her eyes. "It looks great, you're being dramatic. That is a cute dog though, what a baby." She cooed, snapping a picture of it before she sent it to Lotus. "How is the collection going anyway? Weren't you guys almost done like, a month ago?"

"Well, we were going through final revisions, but they decided to scrap some of the looks so we had to come up with some new ones. I'm hoping this will be the final round though. I've got some of the early concepts for designs in here though." She answers, flipping through her sketchbook to show Marcia some of the designs.

She always admired the other girls' aesthetic, Luxx's usual grungy and dark designs had seemed to translate perfectly to spring fashion. Desaturated colors and skirts with purposeful rips and tears turned a skirt into the shape of a flower, an impressive feat. Marcia had seen Luxx make gorgeous designs that weren't her aesthetic, but these ones were special. She always loved it when Luxx could show her passion through her designs.

"Dark forest...what a theme, right?" She softly chuckles, flipping back to the sketch she was working on. "I like it though. I think it'll be our best collection yet."

Marcia proudly smiles, returning to her own sketch of some scenery. They sketched in comfortable silence for some time, Marcia having stopped sketching the people outside and started sketching Lotus. She didn't mean to, it was just sort of a habit at this point.

"That's really good, is that Lotus?" Luxx asks, leaning over. Marcia nods, her face tinged red. "Is she coming to your performance tomorrow?"

"No, but she's coming for my first night as Elle. I'm really excited, I hope she'll like my performance- I've been working so hard on it. God, I hope it goes well, what if I choke?"

"You won't choke. You were like, born for this. You're gonna kill it."

Marcia smiles at her, "Thanks, Luxx."

Luxx volunteered for dinner duty that night, allowing Marcia a moment to herself. To debrief, to prepare herself for tomorrow. She felt the nerves creeping up, like they did for every show she had done. She had to remind herself that it was going to go well, that she was going to do well. She focused on the warm water of the shower that was beginning to turn cold- maybe she had been in there longer than she thought.

She stepped out of the shower, wrapping her hair in a soft pink towel before beginning to dry herself off. It was nice, and for a moment she felt calm as she blow-dried her hair, the muffled music of Ariana Grande playing in the background. 7 rings was interrupted by the ringing of her phone, Marcia clicked off the hair dryer as she answered the call.

"Hello?"

"Hey, doll." Lotus' voice came from the other end. "Are you able to talk?"

Marcia hummed, "For a little bit- Luxx will kill me if I miss dinner." She wrapped her soft pink robe around her as she left the bathroom and entered her bedroom across the hall. "I thought you're usually on patrol around this time of day?"

"I am, but it's always a slow start. Thought I'd talk to you until I get a call."

She softly smiled, "Well, I won't complain about that. How's your day been?"

"Pretty standard. I'm hanging out with my coworker soon, but other than that nothing of note. But enough about me- you're gonna be on Broadway tomorrow! How are you feeling?"

"Nervous. Excited. I can't tell- I think it's both." She chuckled, "I know I'll probably do well, but it's just those pre-show nerves, you know?"

"Nah, I know you're gonna crush it."

"But how do you know? What if I...I don't know, trip and break my arm or something."

"I think you'd still perform, even if you had to be in a cast. Don't worry. Besides, isn't the saying break a leg?"

Marcia softly sighed, a smile creeping onto her face as she rummaged through her dresser for her pajamas. "Yeah, it is...and you're probably right. I'm way too excited about this. I just can't believe it's finally happening!"

She heard a faint buzzing on the other line, vaguely recognizing it as the sound of a call.

"Do you have to go?"

Lotus sighed, "Yeah. I do. I'm sorry. Hey- break a leg tomorrow. You're gonna kill it."

Marcia smiled. "Thanks, I will."

She heard Lotus laugh, she could practically see the other girls smile in her head.

"Atta girl."

The next morning was a blur. She remembered waking up to a 'break a leg ;)' text from Lotus and eating breakfast with Luxx, but time seemed to fly by after that. Her usual subway ride seemed to take five minutes, and their rehearsal that morning felt like it had happened in a second.

Now, she was in the dressing room with her castmates, all giddy and excited for the show. She applied the last of her blush and made sure her costume was perfect, waiting in the wings with the rest of the ensemble for the first number to start. Many were excitedly whispering to each other, the air in the theatre felt electric.

"Who's here for you tonight, Marcia?" One of her castmates and friends, Plasma, asked her.

"My friends and one of my cousins- we're going out afterward. What about you?"

"Some of my friends- and my mom, she flew in from Texas to be here. I can't believe it's opening night!" She excitedly shook Marcia's arm, causing her to smile.

"I know. Oh! There's the house lights, we're going!" She excitedly whispered, taking her place in preparation. She felt the anxiety returning to her chest, taking a deep breath as the curtains drew open.

They began their first number, which went as perfectly as it could. Marcia hit all the right steps, all the right notes, and stayed in character the entire time. She felt the anxiety in her chest dissipate after the first number, it turning into a feeling of joy. She felt good going into the second number, which turned into feeling great for the entire first act. During intermission, she and Plasma celebrated their success, which meant excitedly talking about the show while they made costume and makeup adjustments for the second act.

The second act also went spectacularly. She could tell the entire cast was bringing their all, and the audience could too. Every time the audience laughed or cheered her drive became stronger, causing her to perform even better. By the time curtain call came, she was exhausted- but proud. As she bowed with the rest of the ensemble, she could hear Luxx's cheers above the rest. She couldn't see her group because of the house lights, but that was enough to put a smile on her face.

She's able to get out of her costume and makeup fairly quickly, only delayed by her and Plasma geeking out about the show- releasing the remainder of the energy they had for the night. Eventually, she gathered her things and left, signing some things for a few fans at the stage door before spotting her friends.

"MARSHALL!" Luxx squealed, tightly hugging the other girl. Marcia giggled as her friends swarmed her, excitement filling the air. Jan raved on and on about her vocals and dance moves, her cousin was a fellow theatre nerd and they often spent their childhood watching different musicals (and poorly reenacting them). Robin, although less experienced in the theatre world, complimented her performance and gave her a bouquet- which Amethyst almost crushed as she pulled the group in to take a photo.

Marcia feels elated as the group returns to her apartment, giving her time to change into a sparkly mini-dress. She quickly shot a text to Lotus before coming back out, rejoining the girls who had also changed. They took a quick shot of some tequila they had lying around the house before heading to the nearest gay bar.

"My girlfriend said she and her friend are a few minutes away," Robin yelled above the noise, trying to keep Amethyst from getting swallowed up by the crowd. "I'm making them get us drinks- what does everyone want?"

The girls shouted out their various drink orders to Robin, drowned out by the club's music. The lights strobed and Marcia could feel her body vibrating from the bass. She danced with Luxx and Amethyst, letting herself go and focusing on having fun- she deserved it, after all. She felt her legs growing sore, but it didn't bother her. She would regret it in the morning, however it wasn't anything she couldn't deal with.

They only stopped dancing when Robin squealed, throwing herself into the arms of a girl who had just walked up. "That's Aura," Amethyst shouted so they could hear, the other girls nodding along. "Who's that beside her?" Marcia asked, referring to the girl who had appeared beside Aura.

She was wearing a short red dress and a leather jacket, and her long light-colored hair was straight and worn down, with some bobby pins to keep her bangs back. She looked like she had some darker streaks in her hair, but she couldn't be too sure with the blaring club lights. From what Marcia could see, she had a pretty athletic build and a scar over her left eye. She felt like she knew the girl, but she couldn't place her finger on why.

"I guess her friend," Amethyst whispered in her ear, "She's hot, right? Is she glaring at us though?" Marcia turned her attention back to the other woman, Amethyst was right- she did seem to be glaring, but she couldn't even clearly see the girl because of the flashing lights.

"Can't tell."

Aura and Robin finally broke apart, allowing Aura to shift her attention to the other girl.

"Oh! This is one of my friends, Anetra!" The other girl nodded her head in greeting. "She doesn't bite, she just has chronic RBF." Aura laughed, Anetra rolled her eyes and playfully elbowed her. Amethyst introduced herself first before Marcia did- she noticed the girl's eyes widen a bit before returning to normal. That was strange, did she recognize her too?

She was going to talk to her more when Aura pulled her away to go get the group's drinks, putting a pin in her plan. That was fine, she'd just talk to her when she returned. However, Anetra didn't return. Aura came back alone, balancing the drinks in her arms.

"Where'd Anetra go?" Luxx asked, taking her drink from Aura.

"She got a call while we were waiting at the bar- came back and said there was an emergency and dashed out. She seemed stressed about it."

"I hope she's okay..." Marcia worried, "Poor girl just got here."

"I'll check up on her later, she's a tough cookie so I'm sure she'll be fine."

That was the last they talked about it, the rest of the night was a blur as they danced and drank until their feet hurt. Marcia tried to tone it down so she wouldn't feel as miserable tomorrow, which worked to some degree. She and Luxx left around 1 am, both deciding to be somewhat responsible. She quickly changed into her pajamas, almost passing out the instant she hit the bed. She shot off a goodnight text to Lotus, who still hadn't answered her last message, which was odd. She worried something may have happened, but she pushed that thought to the back of her mind- she was just paranoid.

#thatkindofdevotion #rpdr fanfiction #rpdr #rupauls drag race #marcia x3 #marcia marcia marcia #anetra #anarcia

8 notes · View notes