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#jennie drain
goocolors · 1 year
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︶ ₊ ⠀⠀. ꕀ ꕀ ⊹ ꕀ 💭 𐄑 ⠀⠀⠀
goocolors new post  ̼ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀———
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tinyshiros · 2 years
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Gōthic hye 🧛🏻‍♀️💉セクシーでエゴイスト (+18) ˖ ࣪ ་
loc creds: @hy-joo
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nico-di-genova · 7 months
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Anybody wanna send me Jaime/Jenny prompts? ☺️
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There's a Platypus Controlling Me vs. Candace Party
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1999kidz · 10 months
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🤟🎸⭐🎧
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i-hyein · 1 year
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                                                             ✩
             완벽한 우리 둘 pattern (oh) I think I'm in love with you (I am)
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envydean · 1 year
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Off to a nanowrimo write in with local people (not seen them in a few years since nano said we couldn't do irl meets).
Not entirely sure what I'll be writing, hopefully finishing a chapter of A Sip of Wolfsbane...
I still have 13 Kinktober (2021) fics to write but that's not really suitable for public writing 😅
Otherwise, maybe I'll dive into some other things that have been on my list.
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smuttysabina · 3 months
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"I am" a Bitch
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(Rei x Male Reader, 3.3k Words) Tags: Pretty Little Risky Baddie, What A Brat, Wow She Is So Spoiled, I Sure Hope She Doesn't Get Her Butt Stretched Out, Anal Sex, Brat Taming, Lots Of Complaining, Rough Sex, Too Much Teasing, Chaebol Obliteration
Rei is a spoiled brat. Like most of IVE, she had been pampered until her pretentiousness had swollen to absurd heights; her every whim was to be fulfilled without worry of the consequences. She fully expected that her demands would be followed, especially those pertaining to the bedroom. Though Rei was not the worst of the bunch, her sexual appetites were still incredibly skewed in her favor; the pleasure of her partner was very much so beneath her notice. So she was rather unforgiving when her "lover" failed to satisfy her obnoxious orders, but not in an enjoyable way. Perhaps you should have known better, but truly, who could blame you for dumping the fattest load of your life balls-deep inside of Rae's precious asshole?
You had mostly known what you were getting into when you applied to work for IVE, every Kpop group had its own distinct quirks regarding the hired help. Itzy were renowned for their rapacity when dealing with the "interns", and their older sisters of Twice were famous for their fetishistic forced-breeding schedules. Le Sserafim were a popular choice, mostly due to their extremely laid-back and open attitude towards sex. Positions at Blackpink were the most sought after of course, though they remained permanently open, their turnover rate was less than a week. And IVE... well IVE were notorious for treating their employees like utter garbage. Which was hardly unusual if truth be told, except for the fact that this mindset extended to include most of the staff, not just the sex pets. It was by unwritten agreement amongst idols that the more integral staff members were to be left unravished; after all, it is difficult for a music company to function when their song writers are too busy pumping the idols full of cum all day to write anything. Most importantly however, the cleaning staff were to be left entirely unmolested; if not for those brave souls, the number of injuries caused by slipping in puddles of sex-fluids would skyrocket. Even that insatiable goddess Jennie, who would fuck almost anything with a pulse, would greet the janitors with a bemused smile before continuing to drain whatever meat-dildo she was currently sending to heaven.
Unfortunately, IVE had no such distinctions; if Gaeul wanted to have the producers lick her pussy all day, then that's what they did. It was a dark miracle that the group managed to continue putting out comebacks, let alone the sort that would be astoundingly popular. So to say that the atmosphere at the IVE mansion was a bit stressful would be an understatement. But all of that negativity was on the back of your mind when you showed up for orientation at the mansion; your adoration for IVE drowning out any concerns you may have felt reading up about them. Led through a tastelessly expensive entry hall, you and many other new hires were ushered into a drab side-room for your training. After only a perfunctory introduction though, you were seamlessly sorted into being an assistant for one of the girls; and sent on your way. You are directed to a large, stately bedroom, its footprint greater than most people's entire homes, its door embossed with its owner's name. The debris of an artist occupies an entire corner of the vast room, painting materials stashed haphazardly alongside expensive electronic drawing devices. The bathroom fills the rest of that half of the room, an opaque wall covering what looks to be a standing shower as well as a sizable hot tub. The sleeping area is conjoined with the living area, cluttered with clothes, books, and entertainment devices; with an enormous television planted in front of a deep couch. The bed is sturdy, dowered with an expensive mattress and covered with an eclectic collection of blankets; and laying upon it is the owner of this gilded cage: Rei.
The idol rests upon her stomach, delicate feet kicking in the air above her head, perusing her phone with every appearance of absolute boredom. She gives you unhappy glare as you approach, her heavily-lidded eyes showing you nothing but contempt as she takes in the details. Rei lets out a petulant sigh, "So you're my new assistant huh, why do I never get the cute ones? Whatever, drop your pants, let's see what we're working with here." You hesitate at this bizarre and sudden demand, only complying after she irritable motions for you to proceed, "Hmmph, I guess you'll do, at least you don't have a needle dick. Please tell me you aren't one of those premature guys, I swear most boys have zero endurance. What? Put that thing away, I'm tired of looking at it already!" Blushing furiously from Rei's barbs, you haul your pants back up and wait for further instructions. After several minutes of pointedly ignoring you, she finally deigns to glance back up in exasperation, "Well don't just stand there idiot, do something useful like... cleaning or something? This place is a mess!" Which, to be fair, it absolutely was. Clothes were strewn about haphazardly, towers of empty food cartons were everywhere, all manner of trash was scattered about, and sticky stains on the carpet were more common than clean portions.
So you get to work, while Rei lounges about on her bed, yelling dubious advice and shrill instructions at you while you labor. Her phone either blares annoying videos, except when she is video-chatting with her fellow idols; in which case she yammers away just as loudly as the bitches getting railed in the call. And of course, she masturbates constantly, her fingers squelching away beneath her sweatpants as she watches her friends engaging in all sorts of sexual activities. That or porn; and if you are honest with yourself it's difficult to tell the difference between the two. Not that Rei takes kindly to be watched during her "Private Time", nor the fact that the sight and scent of her pleasuring herself has an arousing effect on your own genitals, "You fucking pervert, stop watching me! Ugh what kind of assistant are you? And are you getting hard again? Stop that! I didn't say you could get horny, so stop looking and keep cleaning!" An attitude which was annoying in the extreme, especially since it was a touch difficult to bend over with a hardon bulging out of your pants. Your irritation only grows as Rei continues to rain abuse on you for doing what you're told, particularly when she went into hysterics when you got around to picking up and sorting the massive pile of underwear heaped against a dresser. You are starting to see why IVE had be having trouble retaining their staff...
After several grueling hours of labor, you finally finished restoring order to at least one portion of Rei's expansive living area; and so lay down to take a break on a couch. Not five minutes had passed before you were being poked awake by Rei, scowling down at you with her hands on her hips. Who haughtily announces that she was going to take a bath, and that she required assistance; now. You groan before hauling yourself after the idol to the bathroom section, where you are stunned to find her stripping carelessly in front of you. You stare at Rei in shock, your foul mood entirely dispelled by the magnificent sight before your eyes; she merely sniffs as you gaze at her. Her surprisingly moderate bust perks boldly outward, the soft curve of her hips descending towards a deliciously full ass, her lithe legs supported by her delicate feet. Now this made her earlier abuse almost worthwhile, surely such a goddess could be allowed a few flaws? Surely it was her due to be given such slavish attention, surely you had deserved such ill-treatment for not paying proper homage to Rei? The illusion of divinity is shattered however, when Rei responds to your adoration with scorn, "Ew, could you not look at me like that, it's weird. Also, get naked already, didn't I tell you to listen you moron?"
So you gingerly remove your clothes, wincing as you strain your sore muscles, and by the time you are finished Rei is already standing in the luxurious hot tub. With her hands on her hips, she gives you an exasperated look, and you scramble up into the bath to avoid another irritating tongue-lashing. You sit down with a sigh, decompressing in the soothing warm waters, water-jets massaging your aching back in a most pleasant fashion. Your momentary calm is cracked somewhat when Rei proceeds to plop down into your lap, her ample bottom squishing up against your groin as she reclines against you. You are rendered speechless by her sudden intimacy, and surprisingly, she is just as quiet. Rei seems content to use you as furniture as she relaxes, and in this moment of tranquility you take in your surroundings in more detail. A sprawling plethora of bottles precariously perch on the further edge of the hot tub, while the rim to your right is taken up entirely with sexual accessories. The bathroom area itself was relatively clean, but clutter was gradually overrunning every available surface; most noticeable was the trash can overflowing with condom wrappers, Rei was obviously a healthy girl...
Rei starts slightly as you harden, but otherwise seems content to ignore the fact that your cock is currently digging into her butt. She wriggles a little to reposition, then relaxes once more, until eventually she sighs and stands up out of the water. She glances back at you, "Your size?" Rei asks as she reaches towards the boxes of condoms. Nodding at your answer, she pulls out a string of them and tosses them at you before ordering you to close your eyes as she fiddles with some sort of tube. You hear Rei let out a soft curse, "Ugh, it's so cold..." then water churns and she grumbles at you, "Well, put it on already!" You open your eyes to find her scowling down at you, and you hurriedly hoist our crotch out of the water so you can slip a condom onto it. You reach towards Rei, only for her to slap your hands away, "Hey! No, sit back down! And don't you dare move, I hate it when guys act like they're not just dildos." With that out of the way, and giving you one final glare in warning, she turns around and lowers herself once more onto your crotch. But this time the burning heat of the water is replaced by the much more subdued warmth of Rei's insides, as she slowly slides your length into herself. Her plump ass squirms as she settles into her new perch, and she is soon gently rocking back and forth in your lap while her hands are busy between her thighs. Her pink hair tickles your face as she grinds on your bulging cock, teasing it endlessly as she pleasures herself. Rei's entire weight is pressed onto your cock as she lifts her legs, the roiling water supporting her as she precisely orients her body to force you as deep as possible. Then Rei lets out a sudden squeak, and she quivers against you, her hole clenching tight around your now painfully erect member.
Rei shudders, her asshole palpitating as she relaxes back against your chest, breathing heavily as she eases her weight off of your manhood. After resting against you for about a minute or so, oblivious to your cock as it throbs inside of her, she pushes herself up off of you in a cascade of water. You get a faceful of ass, and as she bends forward her slightly gaping brown anus is revealed, glistening wetly and flushed from use. Rei notices you staring and quickly turns around, covering herself as she does, "What, it's not like I would let you fuck my unused pussy, I'm saving it for my beloved!" You highly doubt that Rei's cunt had gone unstretched during her stint as a trainee, but you are far more focused on the fact that you had not been able to finish. The bratty idol gives you a confused look as she notices your demeanor, "Oh, did you not cum...? Feel free to jack off into the condom or something, just don't make a mess!" Humming cheerfully, she clambers out of the hot tub and is soon ensconced in an oversized fluffy towel; whereupon she putters off towards the living area, dripping water everywhere. Grumbling, and still staggeringly erect, you dry yourself off before following her, finding Rei sprawled on her couch flicking through channels. Not even deigning to glance at you, she reminds you to clean up all the water you got on the floor walking over there. Rolling your eyes you obey, though not without complaining under your breath, by the time you finished up and returned to your spoiled mistress she has already switched to watching porn. Loud moans and squeals blare from the enormous television as some woman is getting absolutely railed on screen. Rei is already masturbating shamelessly upon her discarded towel, her dark nipples starkly erect.
The idol glances over as you approach and nods in satisfaction as she notices that your dick is still hard, she scrambles around so that her plump posterior is pointed right at you, "Grab a condom, but follow my orders exactly, okay? My butt is very delicate." Sheathed once more in latex supplied from an ever-present condom box, you gently grasp her hips, "Okay, so put a lot of lube in, gently, then slowly ease your dick in, got it?" Instructions which you ignore entirely, as you simply shove your cock directly into Rei's vulnerable asshole. Whose back arches up as she shrieks in surprise, wailing as if she had just been poleaxed. The bitch was obviously exaggerating however, your dick had slid smoothly inside of her, only catching a little at the entrance, evidently Rei had squirted so much lube inside of herself earlier that she still had loads of it coating her insides. Not that she sees it that way, "YOU DUMB FUCK! TAKE IT OUT TAKE IT OUT!" she howls, clawing at the couch for support as her legs shudder. But you are done taking orders from this entitled brat, and pull back, dragging a solid inch of her insides along with you, Rei barely has time to gasp out "Oh thank-" before you slam your entire length back into her guts. This time she is only able to let out an outraged gasp, unable to comprehend how a lowly fan like you could possibly disobey a chaebol of IVE.
Of course, most other idols would not have stood for such treatment either, Yeji would have been clawing your back into bloody ribbons, Rose would have been beating you mercilessly, Jihyo would have pinned you down and firmly forced you inside the proper hole, Dami would have had you biting the couch as she pummeled you with a gargantuan strapon. Instead, Rei, scion of a renowned idol training program, promptly bursts into noisy tears. Normally a girl sobbing would have given you pause, and caused you to rush to give her comfort, but this bitch had been abusing you for hours now, and it seemed a bit of an overreaction; so you continue. Rei blubbers as loudly as the girl on screen, bemoaning her fate and tepidly demanding that you listen to her. But by now you were getting into the swing of things, and to be completely honest her asshole was practically sucking you inside after every thrust. Her thick ass-cheeks clap loudly as you slam yourself against them again and again, providing a meaty cushion that was almost begging for a thoroughly rough plowing. So you give it to them, violently pistoning your cock into her guts, causing her to squeak plaintively and writhe in your grasp as you firmly hold her steady. Then Rei starts to shake, her ass shivering in a familiar way, you don't stop moving though, even when she suddenly starts to scream shrilly, spittle flying onto the couch.
Something hot and wet slops onto your balls, sticking tight to it and smearing deep into its folds. Surprised, you pull out, leaving Rei's asshole gaping enough to show pink and sputtering foully, and beneath that, a shaven pussy absolutely slathered with cunt cream, connected her sex to yours with glistening streamers. She whines in embarrassment, looking back at you in disbelief at the mess she had made, her squeezable cheeks flushing bright red. Before Rei could make any excuses however you had crammed your cock back into her sloppy ass, causing her to groan and bite the fabric. A glow with satisfaction with yourself, you fall back into your rough rhythm, plowing away with enough force to make her ass-cheeks jiggle with every thrust. The steady slap of skin fills the room as you relentlessly fuck Rei, drowning out the depravities taking place on the TV, (by this point the woman appeared to be taking four cocks at once). But Rei wasn't an idol for nothing, and even after such ungentle treatment her butt still devoured your manhood voraciously; squeezing it tightly without any sign of tiring. Your tip grows warmer as you continue to pound away at her hole, it even starts to feel a bit wet within the rubber. The added stimulation is enough to make your heartily sore balls finally start to pulse, and you feel pleasure emanating from the base of your cock, urging you to go deeper. Groaning loudly, you haul Rei back as hard as you can, squishing against her butt with all your might as you climax spectacularly, filling your condom with thick reams of semen. Rei moans in sympathy, but a note of confusion turns her sweet tones shrill, "Oh fuck yes- WAIT. Wait you idiot you're fucking cumming in me! Oh fuck there's so much! Pull out fuckwit, pull out!" Startled by the sudden vehemence in her voice, you abruptly pull out of her, her unplugged asshole sloppily burping your seed out into the creamy filth already coating her sex. Now that it is exposed, you are able to clearly see the issue, your sex had been so violent it had torn the condom open, allowing your cum to surge into Rei's unprotected asshole; who is not taking it well.
"Fuckfuckfuckfuck! It's so slimy and gross! I fucking hate cum! How fucking dare you cum in me! Ugh I feel like I'm going to puke!" she staggers upright, scowling furiously at you as she stumbles towards the bathroom. She points angrily at her door, "Out! Get the fuck out!" she screams, pulling herself onto the toilet and squatting upon it like a gargoyle. You quickly dress under her glare, as she starts to shit the vast amount of semen you had pumped into her. Once out the door, you report to the staff member, who seems unsurprised to discover that she had kicked you out of her room. They instruct you to return tomorrow, apparently the assistants were quietly cycled between the girls until they caught on and demanded their removal permanently. You are utterly shocked the next day then when you are once more ordered to wait upon Rei. Led to her familiar door, you find the brat hunched in front of a tablet, morosely jotting upon it with a stylus. She grunts as she sees you, frowning unhappily, rolling the stylus nimbly through her fingers as she ponders something deeply. Finally though she sighs, and demands that you strip once more. You nervously comply, worried about what sort of depraved revenge Rei has in store for you. But instead she simply stalks over to her bed, casting off her clothes as she goes, whereupon she bends over, looking back at you with annoyed trepidation.
"Well, what are you waiting for, idiot? You had better not break your condom this time! Oh and- um," Rei blushes in embarrassment, seemingly mortified that she has to say this, "please be rough again..."
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woso-dreamzzz · 4 months
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Anger
Vicky Losada x Putellas!Reader
Summary: Your phone kept ringing
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You frowned as you stared down at your phone.
"What is it, amor?" Your wife asked as she watched you stare.
"Alexia's been calling me," You replied," And then Alba's texted to say not to answer her. Huh...I wonder what's wrong."
"They're probably fighting," Vicky said," You know how they are."
You rolled your eyes. "Yeah, I do." You bit your lip. "But I'm a little worried. What if something bad has happened?"
"If something bad has happened," Vicky said," Then your Mama would have been the one to call. Come, sit down. The stress isn't good for the baby."
You heeded your wife's advice, taking a seat on the sofa.
Your pregnancy hadn't come as a surprise. You and Vicky had been trying for months now but each time the IVF treatment hadn't stuck until this final try. You hadn't really told anybody, content to keep it private until you got through the first trimester.
But now, as you approached the end of your second and began to show, you and Vicky had been discussing who to tell.
"If it's so bad then I'm sure you'll get another call later," Vicky assured you as you fretted throughout dinner.
"I...I'm just worried. Alexia called me so much and now it's just radio silent."
Vicky stood from her seat at the table and crossed over to you, a hand coming to rub soothing circles on your arm. "It'll be fine, amor. Your sisters probably had an argument they wanted you to finish."
You looked at your phone on last time before nodding. "You're right. Of course you are." You drained your glass of water. "Did you make dessert? The baby's craving something sweet."
Vicky grinned at you, always in sync with you. "Of course she is."
You ended up on the sofa a moment later with a warm dessert and cream. Vicky had you curled up into her side, an arm gently rubbing circles on your bump as she narrated the show to your baby.
You knew it was to be a girl, having been convinced by Vicky to find out the gender so you could plan accordingly. The pair of you were bouncing between name ideas and how to announce the upcoming pregnancy to your friends and family.
The doorbell rang just as Vicky tried to convince you that telling your family would be best if you paired it with a little Barcelona jersey like how your mother had revealed all of her own pregnancies.
"Were we expecting someone?" You asked, leaning your head over the back of the sofa to look at the door.
The bell rang again.
Then somebody thumping on the door.
Vicky sighed deeply. "If it's Julia or Katie coming to bother us, I'm going to kill them."
You laughed. "Well, if they're bringing more food, kill them after. Your baby sure is hungry tonight."
Vicky rolled her eyes even though a smile poked through on her face. She was still looking at you as she swung open the door, which was why she probably didn't realise what was going on until it was too late.
A hand clawed into the fabric of her top and slammed her into the hallway wall.
"Madre mia!" You exclaimed in shock.
Your oldest sister had your wife up against the wall, practically spitting in anger.
The sudden radio silence from Alexia now made sense.
She was still dressed in her Barcelona training shirt.
Clearly she had caught the first plane to England.
"Alexia?!" You demanded," What you doing here?!"
She ignored you in favour of shoving Vicky further into the wall.
"Where do you get off?!" She demanded," Knocking up my sister?! Huh?!"
Vicky, somehow able to wrench her eyes from Alexia, looked at you in disbelief. "You told her?!"
"No!"
"Jenni told me!" Alexia yelled," Don't talk about me like I'm not here!"
You glared at your wife. "You told Jenni?!"
"It was an accident!"
"Which part?! Telling Jenni or knocking up my sister?!"
"Shut up, Alexia!" Both of you yelled.
"How do you accidentally tell Jenni?"
"She asked about you and I told her that you'd been having me get food at stupid o'clock in the morning and she made a joke about you maybe being pregnant. And I just...kind of didn't say anything and she worked it out herself."
You let out a big sigh, rubbing your temples to try and stop the impending headache. "Amor, I know it was an accident but we purposely said we couldn't tell Jenni just yet because she would blab to everyone."
"Well, she did blab to everyone," Alexia said," But me specifically." She crossed her arms over her chest. "Do you know how embarrassing it is to get a call from my ex-girlfriend congratulating me on becoming an aunt and having no idea about it?! I even had to call Alba to check that she hadn't heard either!"
"Why don't you let go of Vicky," You said," And sit down. We'll explain everything."
"Why can't you explain everything here?"
"Because you look like you're a moment away from killing my wife and I kind of need her around when I get fat and can't move anymore."
It took a few minutes but eventually, Alexia was convinced to sit in the armchair as you and Vicky took up your spots on the sofa again.
"Well? Explain."
"Well-"
"Not you, hemanita," Alexia cut you off, staring daggers at Vicky," I want her to explain."
"Ale, really, this is-"
She held up her finger and you fell silent. You squeezed Vicky's hand.
"We did IVF," Vicky said eventually," And it didn't work and then it did."
"You got my sister pregnant, is what you're saying."
"Well, technically-"
"You knocked up my sister."
Vicky sighed. "Yes. I knocked up your sister."
Alexia was silent for a long moment before she sighed deeply. She rose to her feet and Vicky stood as well, blocking Ale's path to you.
They stood eye to eye.
Alexia shook Vicky's hand, squeezing ever so slightly and leaning forward to whisper," If you dare to make her even cry during this pregnancy, you'll be shipped back to Spain in a matchbox."
Alexia hugged you tightly, laying kisses upon your cheek. She dropped to her knees. "May I?" At your nod, she lifted your top and pressed a kiss to your bump. Your hand came to card through your sister's hair as your wife pressed a kiss to your other hand.
"Hi, baby," Alexia whispered," I'm your Tia Alexia. I probably won't see you a lot but I'll make sure that your mamas bring you back every holiday and we will kick a ball around. And I'll make sure to come to your first games when you get old enough."
"And walk her to her first day at La Masia," You continued with a smile.
Alexia looked up in shock. "Her? La Masia?"
"It's a girl," Vicky said," We found out last week."
"And La Masia?"
"Once the season's up, we're coming back to Spain. My manager is already putting out feelers for clubs."
"We're coming home, Ale. I want the bebita to grow up with you and Alba and Mama and Vicky's family. We can't do that if we're stuck in England all the time."
She surged towards you, one arm around you and the other around Vicky, holding you both tightly against her.
"You're making me a Tia," She said finally," Thank you." She looked at Vicky and wiped away her tears. "Sorry, about earlier. It's just-"
"Your littlest sister is pregnant and you found out through Jenni. I understand. But hey, now that you're here, explain to y/n that the best way to tell your Mama is to get a baby-sized Barca jersey."
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wardenparker · 2 months
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Hummingbird Has Landed, ch 1
Marcus Pike x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst
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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: Mature, but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 14.4k 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* Not much for this chapter! Mostly fluff, a little flirting, and playful but on-point use of the term 'tramp stamp'. Summary: On a failed date at the local market, Marcus runs into an old friend and gets an invitation to visit. The beautiful inn and fantastic food were explicit in the invite -- but you are a complete surprise to him. Notes: Welcome, welcome, welcome my lovelies! As a girl who grew up on The West Wing and fosters an unapologetic love of all things romance, a story like this has been on my wish list to write for a very long time. I hope you're all ready for a cast of new characters and the grand appearance of Pedro's character from Graceland, because it's time for Marcus Pike to meet his soulmate! 🧡🧡🧡
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There’s something about the hustle and bustle of D.C., that while it can invigorate someone and inspire them to live life as fast as possible, it can also drain them. At least, that’s what Marcus Pike has learned from the last three years of therapy. That and he’s prone to rushing into relationships, being in love with love, as Dr. Barnes would caution him.
It seems sometimes as if he’s unlucky in love, despite the universe providing a perfect match for him, he’s never found her. Always looking, but also being open to loving someone who doesn’t share marks or scars. Someone who just wants a stable and steady man to worship them and give them the world.
He hasn’t dated in almost three years. His therapist had advised him to focus on himself. To work through his emotions of a failed college marriage, a failed engagement. To make himself happy with who he is before introducing another person into the mix. He had thought that’s what he was doing, but apparently he had been wrong.
Finally feeling ready to date again, he had dipped his toes back in the water. Only to have it backfire tremendously. So much so, that he finds himself walking around the Eastern Market on his own. His idea of a farmer’s market casual date obviously not a good one, according to the woman who had tossed the drink he had bought her on the trash and stomped off, abandoning him to feel like a fool.
Smiling faces beam back at him from the covers of glossy gossip magazines, flashing headlines critiquing fashions worn to the recent inauguration ceremony and parties. The new president and her family wave from above the fold of newspapers — the happy family that Marcus himself doesn’t have. Ignoring the rude reminder, he wanders through the stalls and vendors of Eastern Market aimlessly until he reaches the family-owned sweet shop that he’s been coming to for years now. They know him, and like him, and his sweet tooth knows no bounds. There’s another man at the counter just before Marcus so he stands back, but Jenny waves hello from behind the counter. “Morning Marcus! Gimme one second and I’ll be right with you.” She says, turning back to the order marked Juan in her big, looping handwriting. “Six cannoli, right? Two pistachio, two double chocolate, and two cherry chocolate?”
“Right.” The man in a corduroy jacket with his short hair trimmed neatly nods. “Thanks, Jen. The girls are going to be over the moon.”
Another reminder of a life he craves. Marcus frowns slightly and tries to remember what his therapist has told him. Everyone moves at their own pace. Just because he’s not juggling two kids, a dog and a lovely wife with his workload doesn’t mean he’s failing. It just means he’s not met the right person, soulmate or not.
The other man pays for his order and turns to leave but stops dead in the middle of a cordial nod when he sees Marcus standing a few feet away. Sure he had heard Jenny say hi to someone…but he hadn’t looked. Now though? He huffs a laugh at the ghost of his past. “Pike?” They’d been mistaken as brothers — or for each other — so many times back at the Academy that it would be impossible not to recognize Marcus Pike.
“Badillo?” It’s amazing to see the other agent, although he had heard that he had left the Bureau after a friendly fire shooting. He looks good though, and Marcus cracks into the first real grin of the morning since being left high and dry. “What the hell? How are you doing, man?” He asks, coming in for a friendly hug while being mindful of the box in Juan’s hand.
“Good! Good. Errands.” Juan huffs, returning Marcus’s hug with equal surprise and affection. The men had been quite good friends at one time, more than a few years ago now. “Pregnant wife gets whatever pregnant wife wants, ya know?” He grins, bright and shining. “When did you get back to DC?”
“Pregnant wife, huh?” Despite the knife to his heart, Marcus paints on a grin, happy for his old friend. “Three years ago.” He shrugs slightly. “Heading up Art Crimes now. How about you? I heard you got out.” He lifts his eyebrows, allowing Juan to talk if he wants or brush it off if he doesn’t.
“I did.” Juan nods, knowing that various stories circulated after he left the Bureau. Most of them false. “Decided to take a little road trip vacation to clear my head and ended up meeting my soulmate in Yosemite on day two of the whole thing, and I followed her East.” He shrugs, ever the unapologetic romantic just like Marcus. They had had that in common. “How’s Lara?” He asks, remembering the woman that had been Mrs. Pike during their Academy days. Marcus had been over the moon for her. “Is she liking being back?”
Marcus grimaces a little and shrugs. “She’s, uh, we got divorced about ten years ago.” He tells him. “She found out she did have a soulmate.”
“Ah shit.” Blowing out a breath and shuffling his feet, Juan rubs the back of his neck self-consciously. “I’m sorry, man. That’s—there’s just no easy way to get through something like that.”
“It’s okay.” Marcus had loved Lara, but he wasn’t going to stand in the way of soulmates. It wouldn’t be right. “It was actually a very easy divorce; she hated hurting me. More than I can say for the last date, or last fiancée I’ve had.”
“Shit.” Juan huffs again, shaking his head in disbelief. “It’s eleven in the morning but I feel like I ought to be buying you a drink, man.” Hearing that someone as genuinely good as Marcus Pike is has had his heart bashed so often is a fucking bummer, and Juan chews on his lip for a second before his head tilts in that Universal signal of natural curiosity. “I’ve got time today. If you want to hang out? Catch up?” He offers, knowing that drinks will most likely come later if the two old friends spend the day getting back on the same page.
Marcus chuckles, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Do I look that dejected?” He asks, even though he’s not really looking for an answer. “I was supposed to be on a date, I figured a farmer’s market/brunch date would be easy enough and yet thoughtful, but I was ditched.” He snorts. “I have zero luck it seems.” He nods his head towards the cannoli. “But you can’t leave your pregnant wife waiting on those.”
“No, I can’t.” Sydney is waiting back at the restaurant with bated breath, he knows that, but he does offer Marcus a smile. “But she does run a restaurant, so you don’t have to be brunch-less unless you choose to be.”
“Yeah?” He perks up at the idea of trying out a new place, always loving brunch foods. “Where at? I might have to take a spin over there.”
“Her place is called Il Corvo.” It takes a second, but Juan digs a business card for the restaurant out of his jacket pocket and hands it over. “It’s the in-house restaurant at The Inn at Jones Point in Alexandria.” He reports proudly, always ready to brag about his soulmate’s amazing success. Running a restaurant is no small feat. “I know the card says the dining room opens at 4pm, but ignore that. She does brunch for guests at the inn and for special guests from time to time.”
“Are you sure?” Marcus frowns slightly. “I don’t want to impose.”
“It’s not imposing, trust me.” Knowing his wife as well as he does, Juan is more than certain she’ll be doting on Marcus in no time. “As long as you’re on board for Italian food, come by any time you want.”
“I’m out on the bike.” Marcus tells Juan, remembering how the other agent also loved to ride motorcycles. “I might swing by sometime. Normally go for rides on the weekend.”
"Anytime you want," Juan repeats, and he hopes Marcus understands how entirely he means it. "It's good to see you again, man."
“Good to see you too.” Marcus means that, smiling at the former agent. “Nice to see that you are okay.”
The two men part with a smile and a nod, and Juan hustles away to get his precious cargo back out to his soulmate. Maybe he'll pitch the idea of inviting Marcus to their next board game night if Sydney and her best friend don't mind the extra company. Not that they ever mind extra company.
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Marcus doesn’t mean for it to be two weeks from the chance encounter with Juan before he steers his bike down the country, winding roads towards this inn that he had been told about. He had a case that required him to travel. Then it was reports and the never ending budget fiascos that new presidencies always bring, his boss wanting a new projections for the fiscal year for some reason.
Now though, he’s enjoying the scenery as the wind blows over his face and he leans into the curve, enjoying the small thrill that races up his spine from the inherent danger.
The winter has been mild so far and all the snow left behind by the storm the area had gotten while he was traveling has melted, making the ride an easy and calming one. He had intentionally driven a long route around Alexandria and the surrounding area, letting him arrive at his destination a little after noon on that cold, sunny Sunday. The inn is a large brick farmhouse, probably originally colonial but it looks like it was redone sometime during the Federalist architecture craze of the early 1800s. Now its clean white painted window frames and front porch are as welcoming as the pristinely kept front garden. The Inn at Jones Point proclaims a sign out front, which is accompanied by a smaller complimentary sign with an impressionist painted black bird that reads Il Corvo in an artistic script. There are cars in the lot with a plethora of states listed on their license plates, another motorcycle that he has to assume is Juan's, and a very government-issued-looking black car parked close to the building.
Marcus is enough of a romantic to fully appreciate the appeal of the property and more importantly, grounded enough to be able to appreciate it without having a partner here to enjoy it with. Since working with his therapist, he's spent a lot of the last three years 'dating himself'. Instead of waiting to make a date to try out a new restaurant, he goes by himself. Not limiting himself to new experiences with partners, he has found that he enjoys the hunt for the perfect spots to eat. The little Indian restaurant he had found is an absolute gem and he is looking forward to discovering a new little brunch spot. If this place is half as good as Juan says, he might make it a monthly habit while he can spend some time with his old friend.
Inside, the lobby of the inn is bustling. Guests sit in plush chairs with travel brochures or excitedly type on their phones. A family is gathered around a display of pamphlets for different travel experiences and tourist attraction. Another guest is hovering around the front desk, seemingly waiting for someone to return.
From the rooms off to the left, wave after wave of stunning smells wafts past Marcus as he looks around. A set of French doors stands open but the hostess stand for Il Corvo stands empty while a small number of diners sit inside, happily chattering over their meals. The scent of fresh coffee permeates everything else just a second before he can see why, as a woman in a blue silk shirt comes around the corner with two travel cups — presumably full of coffee — for the guest standing at the desk.
“Here we are, Mrs. Richards. Thank you for your patience, the pot was just finishing brewing. These will keep you nice and warm while you walk around Old Town.” Smiling as the woman walks away, your eyes survey the room and land on the new arrival with a touch of confusion. “Good afternoon,” you greet, in your typical sunshiny tone. This man isn’t a guest and you genuinely almost thought it was Juan for a second — even though you just saw Juan in the restaurant. “How can I help you today?”
“Hi— uh, I—” Marcus realizes he knows you. Your mother’s picture hangs on his office wall next to the current FBI director’s, and furthermore, it’s hard to not see the darling First Daughter in some news story – although it doesn’t seem like you enjoy the press. “Yeah, sorry, Juan said that brunch is served here?” He asks with an apologetic smile. “I’m Marcus, uh, Pike. We were in the Academy together and I ran into him a few weeks ago.”
You’re prettier than he ever imagined the pictures and news reels, your voice curling into his stomach pleasantly. In true, Marcus Pike fashion. He finds himself instantly intrigued by you.
“Oh, you’re Marcus!” As bright and cheery as you sound, something flips in your stomach and clenches at your chest and you swallow down the oh god he’s really hot impulse that you haven’t felt in…well, in years. This guy looks like someone took Juan and gave him broader shoulders and better hair, and put a little bit more James Dean in his style. “It’s really nice to meet you.” You introduce yourself, probably unnecessarily, but it’s good manners and keeps you from getting nervous or going off track. “Come on this way. Juan said you might be stopping by but he wasn’t sure when.”
“I’m sorry, should I have called first?” He asks, feeling guilty and slightly in the way. The last thing that he wants is to cause an imposition.
“Not at all.” You slip out from behind your desk and wave for him to follow you. “He’s been excited to introduce you to everybody.” The inn is a decent size, with the ground floor being public spaces and all the rooms upstairs being ready-made for guests except for the attic apartment, and you quickly lead the way through the rooms toward the restaurant kitchen.
“It’s been a long time since we’ve caught up.” Marcus admits. “We were close in the academy, most people through we were twins to be honest.” He chuckles slightly.
“I almost thought you were him when I saw you,” you admit, glad to know you aren’t alone in it. Juan had said they look alike but it really is extreme. “Here we are.” Humming as you push open the door to the restaurant’s bar, you huff a soft laugh when a woman slightly taller than you with masses of curls in a tight bun at the nape of her neck in a black suit sidesteps the pair of you and opens the kitchen door to look inside before letting you in. “Thank you, Agent Bailey.” As odd as it is to have constant supervision like this, you’re doing your best to be patient and understanding with it. “Come on into the kitchen,” you offer to Marcus. “Brunch is almost over and this is where Juan sits when he hangs out.”
“Really? The inner sanctum already?” The tone is joking, but Marcus knows that for a lot of chefs, the kitchen is their sacred place. He wouldn’t know, because his kitchen is used to make coffee, but he’s had a few relationships with amateur gourmet cooks.
“Marcus!” There’s no question that this is where he’s supposed to be, when Juan is waving from a corner of the kitchen and immediately zips over to say hello. “How are you, man? Good to see you!”
“Hey.” He grins when he sees the other man, obviously happier here than any time in the Bureau and he’s happy for him. He seems like a completely different man, just from the quick glance. Perhaps it’s the fact that he found his soulmate. “Sorry it’s been a few weeks. Got caught up on a case.”
“I completely get it,” he assures his friend. “It’s been kind of crazy around here anyway. Weddings booked every single weekend and the restaurant stuffed full with reservations.” He beams, proud as a peacock, and waves slightly as you disappear back out through the bar to return to your counter. The inn is full up with last night’s wedding party and you have your hands full. “I want you to meet my wife,” Juan says, clapping Marcus in the shoulder and pulling him further into the kitchen.
There are only two people cooking right now and they are both winding down. Enough that the petite woman with tied-up hair and a look of intense concentration on her face can look up and smile. “I hear you talking about me,” she warns with a laugh.
“Syd, this is Marcus Pike.” Juan introduces, bringing his friend out in front of him. “Marcus, this is Sydney. The gorgeous goddess the universe decided to grace me with.”
“Nice to meet you.” Again that pesky pang of longing lurches inside Marcus but he throws her a smile and takes her hand after she offers it immediately. “I’ve only heard angelic things about you, so rest assured, he’s not talking ill.”
“He’s does nothing but tell stories about you since you guys ran into each other at Eastern Market.” Sydney tells him honestly. “Can I make you something to eat?”
“I was hoping to experience the brunch option that Juan was bragging about.” Marcus admits as he glances around, admiring the state of the art kitchen. “Didn’t expect to see this from the historical facade.” He admits. “It’s charming though.” He adds, hoping that neither one of you take offense.
"Charming is her specialty." Sydney points her thumb in the direction of the door, indicating the main lobby of the inn. "We took over running this place about three years ago now. The previous owners weren't able to keep up anymore so they sold to her and we updated the restaurant. Modern Italian dinners and brunch for the inn's guests. It's a big step up from the B&B that this place used to be." Grinning proudly, Sydney moves over to the nearest counter and plops a paper menu down at the stool beside her husband. "What would you like?"
Marcus looks at the menu and lifts a brow, impressed by the sophisticated menu. This isn’t some little spaghetti shop that pretends to be Italian. “It’s been so long since I’ve had good Uova in Purgatorio.” He moans. “Since the last time I was in Naples.” He clicks his tongue. “But I want to try the ricotta pancakes too.”
"Then you will get both," Sydney insists, clicking her tongue and getting to work. "A G-man in Naples, huh?" She barely glances up from her work as she moves. "Art crimes must be the fancy branch of the Bureau."
“I work on international cases with Interpol and Scotland Yard.” He explains as he sits down and admires the fluidity of her movements in the kitchen. She’s completely at home in her space and it’s evident she’s in command. He’s slightly envious of her comfort in a kitchen, if he’s honest.
"Oh, so it definitely is the fancy branch." She laughs. Juan hops up from his seat to grab coffee for himself and Marcus, brushing a kiss on her cheek as he moves past, and the other woman who had been cooking moves away to the other end of the room to work on cleaning up from the brunch rush.
"Fancy branch of what?" The kitchen door swings open again and you come strolling back inside looking infinitely more tired than you had just a few minutes ago but still in a generally good mood. "The wedding party is finally gone. I am officially taking my break."
Marcus stares at you for a moment and then looks down at his hands, feeling like he might be bragging if he were to tell you what they’ve been talking about. There’s something about you that is knocking him off kilter, he’s normally a little more confident than this.
"Art crimes is swanky, apparently." Sydney tells you, never stopping or slowing as she moves around like a controlled whirlwind. "Eggs in purgatory and ricotta pancakes for your brunch? I'll make up a big batch." They're two of your favourite things anyway and it's easy enough to just make a double serving of each when she knows that your break time is always mealtime.
"That sounds incredible," you moan in agreement, making a beeline for the industrial refrigerator in the corner of the room to make yourself an iced latte that is far more espresso than milk. A generous swirl of flavored syrup joins your cup before you plop down on the edge of the counter and sip your drink with a happy sigh. Normally people exclaim over you when they realize they recognize you but Marcus Pike hasn't said a word — and you wonder if he doesn't recognize you from the papers or if you even care. It's nice to not have someone make a fuss for once. To just be nice and not suck up to you for being the President's oldest child.
“Weddings take it out of you, huh?” Marcus asks, smirking a little at the drink in your hand, although it looks delicious. “Or were they just demanding?”
"It was a big party. Very specific needs." Sipping your drink and finally sitting is immediately relaxing, and you're always ready to meet new people. Especially when they're someone that your best friend's husband speaks of so highly. "Nothing I can't handle, but weddings are always tricky. It's the most important day of at least one person's life, so you always want to try to make it as perfect for them as you can. Thankfully," you gesture around you. "I have an incredible team. Syd is the best Italian chef in the Chesapeake Bay and Juanito is an incredible event coordinator."
Marcus snorts and cuts his eyes over at Badillo. “He always did have an eye for details.” He admits, snickering at the nickname you’ve bestowed on the former federal agent. “Although it’s surprising that it’s manifested in wedding planning.” He teases playfully.
"Event planning," Juan clarifies, but he's grinning regardless. "We host a lot here. Weddings, anniversaries, holiday parties, all kinds of personal events. I get to put my organizational mind to work on it. It's actually pretty rewarding."
"Don't let him sell himself short. Juan plans a hell of a wedding." There is pride on your face, pride for your friend and in your work "We've gotten written up in a bunch of bridal magazines and on websites the last few years."
“Good job, Juanito.” If there’s anything that Marcus enjoyed more than the courses in the academy, it was busting his friend’s balls. All in good fun of course, he had taken his share of ribbing as well. It was par for the course. “That sounds like a hell of a job, making people happy and sharing in their special moments.”
"We do our best." Juan will never take the credit for himself, always attributing the effort to the team as a whole. This time, though, he flashes a knowing grin at you. "Although the next one we plan might be a hell of a lot bigger than what we do here."
“Oh?” Marcus asks, turning towards you. “Are you getting married soon?” His eyes drop discreetly to your hand and he tries to remember what he’s read about you but for some reason, he’s drawing a blank.
“No, Juan just likes to tease.” You shake it off with a roll of your eyes, knowing that — unfortunately — your friend is completely right. If or when it does happen, it will be a damn circus. “It’s this…guy that I met last year, and it’s been really good and he really took all the stress of the last year in stride, and these two love to tease.” In truth, you’ve been intentionally moving forward slowly with the junior Congressman from Maryland that you met at a campaign event you attended with your mother last year. Sam is a good guy and has big ideas for the future. It’s just that you normally dive into relationships so fast and so deep that your heart does all the talking before your mind can catch up. And now that you’re a public figure, you can’t afford to have that happen again. “I’m perfectly content to watch other people have their big days for now.”
“I can imagine that it’s hard to have a relationship right now.” He sympathizes. “The press either treats you like a darling celebrity or some kind of public spectacle, right?” He asks, curious as to your view on the entire thing. Personally, he hated the idea of politics taking on a celebrity flare and you aren’t on politics, your mother is.
“I’m honestly lucky that my younger siblings take some of the focus,” you admit. So he did recognize you. It’s nice that he didn’t fuss. You’re grateful for that. “My brother is in law school and my sister is in undergrad and they’re both living in the White House while they study but…yeah. We all agreed to give up our privacy for a while so Mom can do some good work. That means relationships aren’t easy right now.”
“It’s good you had a choice.” Marcus admits. “Sometimes I watch the campaigns for some of the politicians and it’s obvious the family would rather be anywhere else and are putting on a facade.” He shrugs, not wanting to delve too deep into a subject you probably are uncomfortable with. “Nice that you don’t have too much interference here, except for the Secret Service agent.”
"Agent Bailey's okay." In fact, she's sitting outside the kitchen door right now, giving you a bit of space and privacy to try to pretend you still have a halfway normal life. "We're still getting used to each other. I had somebody else during the campaign, but she's been assigned to my sister now. It all works out in the end." Smiling, you take another sip of your coffee and wonder why your stomach is fluttering over this very kind man who has been introduced into your lives very much by chance. It's...unsettling. To say the very least. "But that's plenty about me. How about you, Special Agent Marcus Pike? Where're you from? How are you liking Art Crimes?" You grin, throwing him a mischievous expression. "Who'd you vote for, for president?"
Marcus laughs, a real laugh that comes from his belly and he relaxes. “Let’s see…I’m from the great state of Texas - Go Rangers.” He ticks off. “I love Art Crimes, especially when we can recover sentimental pieces and keep “collectors”,” he uses air quotes, “from locking away art from being enjoyed by all.” He grins at your last question. “And my momma told me never to discuss politics or religion in social settings….but….my candidate is currently hanging on my office wall.”
"Rangers, huh?" Glossing over the not insignificant tidbit that he did, in fact, vote for your mother, you find yourself thoroughly enjoying getting to know this friend of your friend. It's usually not this easy to click with a new acquaintance, although you've become an expert at seeming interested just to be polite. That doesn't seem to be necessary at all with this man. "When we get our Phillies/Rangers series this year we'll have to come up with a bet of some kind."
“It’s gonna be a losing bet on your end.” Marcus predicts. “We’ve got Darío Álvarez and then Elvis Andrus is going to continue stealing bases.”
"Oh thank god," Sydney huffs, flipping ricotta pancakes on her griddle top and grinning as she throws you a wink. "She's finally got someone else to drag to baseball games. I'm free!"
"My alleged best friend," you smirk and decide to tease her back. "And her husband are both hockey people. So I'm generally either stuck watching the game on my own or dragging Syd along with promises of beer and ballpark dogs."
“Nationals aren’t my favorite team. Since they are National League.” Marcus smirks. “But I have season tickets since it’s too expensive to fly back to Texas for every game.”
It would be bragging to admit that you've been asked to throw the first ball out at the Nationals opening game this season as the most vocally baseball-loving member of the new First Family, so you just smile. You know it can feel like a big sacrifice to leave something about home behind. "Maybe I'll see you there," you offer instead. "The Nationals aren't my team either, but the game are pretty fun."
“Oh they always are.” He admits wholeheartedly. “Plus the Navy Yard is close so it’s always interesting.”
"Heeeeere we go." Onto the counter in front of you, Sydney heaps four plates of food – making each of you identical breakfasts. "The fruit compote for the pancakes right now is cranberry lemon. And I threw a little extra chili into the sauce for the eggs." She grins. "Some folks who stay at the inn say it's too spicy but it's how we like it," she tells Marcus.
Marcus chuckles and Juan snorts, hooking his fingers towards the agent. “This man ate his way through a five alarm chili contest and didn’t even touch his beer.” He boasts to the two of you. “If it’s not spicy, I don’t want it.” Marcus confirms with a grin. “Thank you. It smells amazing.”
"Then next time you're getting Calabrian chili instead of just the wimpy flakes." Sydney promises with glee. "That's how our girl likes it, but that's too much even for me most of the time. I have to be in the mood for it."
“You like spicy?” He asks, smirking towards you. “How do you feel about the Indian food around here?”
"There's a place in DuPont Circle that is probably the best Indian food I've ever had in my entire life." Even as you're getting ready to dig into your best friend's comfort Italian fare, your mouth starts watering thinking of curries and dal. "The kind of place where they don't make it really spicy until you've been there a couple of times and they know you can handle it. I swear I've eaten there more than I've cooked my own food since moving out here."
“Rasika’s?” Marcus groans, nodding. “I love that place. They make the best curry I’ve ever eaten in my life. I’m sweating, but I never tell them to bring me the yogurt sauce.”
"If you don't sweat while you're eating there, you're doing it wrong." It's a slight point of contention with Sam, who generally considers mustard to be too spicy most of the time, but you ignore the side eye you're getting from Sydney and dig in to your brunch. Having come in early today, this is halfway through your shift and you're going to be excited to head upstairs to your little attic caretaker's apartment when the time comes this afternoon. "Mmmmm," you groan happily and do a little wiggle in your seat unconsciously. "Syd, I swear. If you hadn't already married Juan, I'd marry you for your brunch."
Marcus takes that as the best kind of advertisement and cuts into his own meal to fork up a bite of the eggs. “Christ.” He groans as soon as the flavors hit his mouth. “That’s amazing.”
"I told you," Juan boasts, sitting up in his seat a little taller with pride for his soulmate. "She's amazing."
“You weren’t kidding.” Marcus huffs, taking another bite. “If this got out, you could run on brunch alone.”
"We're considering offering an incentive package for events." Starting to clean up, Syd watches the two of you eat while she wraps the kitchen up from brunch to get everything prepared for dinner service. "Wedding brunches are coming back in fashion, but a lot of people are wanting to do morning after brunches for their families before everyone goes their separate ways."
“I can see that.” Marcus nods. “Lara and I had a lunch thing before we all said goodbye, but that was casual.”
"Your wife?" You guess, struggling to remember if Juan had mentioned that his friend was married. He's not wearing a ring, but some men don't — a habit that generally rubs you the wrong way because those men are always the ones who basically want their wives to walk around wearing a giant 'I'm married' sign but will never show any outward signs of commitment themselves.
Marcus gives a small shrug and smiles self-consciously. “Ex-wife.” He admits, knowing that soon enough the pitying looks will start. “We divorced a while ago.”
Sydney clicks her tongue, having remembered that fact, and says nothing more. You, though? For some reason you can't help yourself. Something about Marcus Pike compels you to offer comfort in whatever way you can. "If you ever find another Mrs. Pike, you let us know. We've got you covered."
Marcus chuckles. “So far, that search has been in vain.” He admits. “Apparently it’s not in the cards for me.”
"She's out there." Juan offers with confidence. "If I remember correctly, you've even got a couple of tattoos to prove it."
Marcus rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I do.” He snorts. “If I ever find her, I want to know why there is a hummingbird tramp stamp on my lower back.” He laughs. “I get why, but why???? Why a hummingbird?”
A glare of questioning moves soundlessly between you and your best friend — the perpetually meddling woman who sat next to you when you were eighteen and challenged you to answer trivia questions while you had your own hummingbird tramp stamp inked onto your skin in celebration of your high school graduation. "Oh yeah?" She asks, raising an eyebrow at you while you furious try to communicate with nothing more than wide eyes that you do not want her to ask what she's about to ask. "What kind of hummingbird? How trashy are we talking?"
“It’s not exactly trashy.” Marcus defends. “It’s actually a pretty blue and green.“
"Interesting." Sydney hums, practically giggling with glee as she cleans up the kitchen and you bury your face in your meal like it will help you escape the entire conversation. "Maybe hummingbirds are her favourite bird?"
I'm going to kill you in your sleep says the glare you send your best friend's way.
“Totally trashed my punk rock image.” He laughs. “Although I didn’t think of that at the time. Thinking I’m this hardcore next Kurt Cobain rocker and I’ve got a hummingbird tattoo on my lower back.” He snorts, shrugging slightly. “But it’s always been a question I’ve wanted to ask. What made her choose that? What’s special about it to her?”
"Hummingbirds symbolize love and devotion," you murmur next to him, not quite looking up and wondering if the world is really turning on its ear right now or if it's just that you've been thrown off kilter by the possibilities. It's not like you're the only girl in the world with a hummingbird tattoo, after all. Far from it. "And they're supposed to be good luck."
“I like that.” Marcus hums softly. “It’s wistful, hopeful.” There could be a thousand different reasons why his soulmate chose that symbol to etch on her body and in turn, his, but he would rather it be a loving sign. You aren’t looking at him, and miss the small smile he throws you. “Poetic.”
"So she's gotta be out there somewhere." Sydney needles the point a little bit, sounding breezy as hell but just about ready to pounce on any clues Marcus offers up. "Maybe a hopeless romantic with a stubborn streak and an encyclopedic knowledge of Lost Generation authors and impressionist painters?" She shrugs like she's just pulled the example out of thin air. "Who knows?"
Throwing Juan a look, Marcus smirks. “Sounds like your husband has been talking about favorite kind of woman.” He jokes, although he’s pretty sure that he would love it if his soulmate turned out to be just that. “I just want to have someone that wants to be build a lift together. A partner.” He shrugs. “Most people think that it’s crazy, but I think that your significant other should be your best friend and your lover.”
"Absolutely crazy." With as clearly sarcastic a tone as she can possibly muster, Sydney practically deadpans in Marcus's direction. "So weird. How dare you want to spend your life with someone you loves you as much as you love them?" Every single thing she's described has been about you, and while neither of the guys are picking up on that for even a single second, the fact that you have your head down over your plate means you're reading her loud and clear. "I bet your dream girl will even have a thing for your old rockstar days," she goes on, as if she's stringing out a hypothetical and not explicitly describing your opinion that musicians are sexy as hell. "Don't tell me. You were a bassist, right?"
“And vocals.” He admits, shaking his head ruefully. “It’s alright if she doesn’t like that. God, it’s been years since I’ve picked up my bass.” He realizes. “I should do that. Between the bass or the motorcycle, I just spent more time on the bike.”
Bass. Vocals. And motorcycle? You practically groan out loud but barely manage to swallow the sound and instead hop up from your seat immediately to hopefully combine the noise you just made with all manner of other commotion. "Just grabbing another drink," you explain, when all three of their heads turn toward you at once. "You, uh...you should do what makes you happy, Marcus. If that's not overstepping things for me to say. We just met today. But I've always heard that the best things in life tend to fall into your lap when you're not looking for them. So maybe just...enjoy yourself? And who knows what can happen."
“That’s what I’ve been trying to do.” Marcus admits. “My therapist agrees with you. That we need to enjoy ourselves and not just search.”
"Our therapists agree with each other, then," you admit with a chuckle. "I started seeing someone when Mom decided to run for president. I figured it would be good to have someone to check in with and make sure I was handling my stressors in a healthy way." The conversations you had had with them about whether or not to factor your soulmate into future plans when you had never met them were slightly less straightforward.
“That’s always a good thing.” He nods quickly. “I’ve never been one to think that therapists are a waste of time.” He shrugs. “My mom was a therapist all my childhood.”
"It's an incredibly important profession. And an incredibly important resource to have." Seeing as Marcus's mug was empty as well, you bring back two glasses of water to the counter and sit down again, hoping that Sydney won't keep pushing. Or at least that she won't reveal things if she does. "My little sister is a psychology major. She's thinking about medical school next, and talking about different paths she might taken with her studies. Therapist being one of them."
“It’s a good profession.” Marcus admits easily. “Just- let her know, most therapists have their own therapists they see. It’s draining to take on everyone’s secrets and burdens, trying to do the best you can to give them the tools to help themselves. So tell her that there’s no shame in that.”
"I will." It isn't worth negating the kindness of Marcus's thoughts and advice by telling him that all three of the First Kids started therapy at the start of the campaign. It's the care he has for other people — people he has never met and may never meet ever in his life, that touches you so very deeply. "Thank you, Marcus. That's very kind of you."
He nods and picks up the glass of water, needing to wash down the remnants of the eggs before starting on the pancakes. “So, Juan, how did you and your lovely wife discover you were soulmates?” He asks curiously.
"Uhm..." Juan chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck and looking to Sydney for her permission to tell the story.
"Go ahead," she laughs. "I've go to start dinner prep. Tell him as much as you want."
"It's not exactly PG," he admits, still laughing softly to himself. "The polite version is that we compared tattoos."
Marcus isn’t the head of his department because he’s dimwitted. “One night stand?” He asks, lifting his brows in surprise. It wasn’t like he had never had them himself, but both men had preferred to be in relationships rather than sleep around. Not that he’s judging.
“I was willing to take whatever that goddess was willing to give me,” Juan admits without shame. “One night would have been a memory to cherish. But the universe said it should be a lifetime, instead.”
“I’m happy for you.” Marcus promises with a slap on the back for his old friend. “You deserve it. Glad you found her.”
“You say that now.” His friend smiles happily though, beaming at the commendation. “But now it’s going to be my mission to find you that girl with the hummingbird tattoo.”
Marcus smiles, a little sadly, but he just shrugs. “I’ll find her when I’m supposed to.” He reasons. “Knowing my luck, she’s happily married.”
“Not as happily as she would be with you.” He’s confident in that, and Juan looks to you to bolster his encouragements. “How could anybody not be ecstatic to have a guy this good, right?”
It feels rude. Like a trick from the universe that you do not like one bit. Like the powers that be are rubbing your nose in your defiance of their plans. “They’d have to be blind.” You offer, with a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. Sam is a good guy. He’s been a good boyfriend and has made you happy. Why are you suddenly thinking about someone else after an hour of knowing them? That’s utterly ridiculous. “You…never really know how the universe is going to have things work out.”
She’s just being polite. Marcus realizes that when he sees your smile, his stomach churning unhappily. It doesn’t matter, you’re seeing someone. A woman in a relationship has always been off limits to him. He doesn’t like, nor respect cheaters and yet he’s upset that you don’t seem that attracted to him. Or, you’re reluctantly attracted to him. He stares down at his pancakes and sighs. “All that matters to me if that my soulmate is happy.” He decides.
Juan and Marcus talk about this and that for the next few minutes, but you quickly finish your pancakes and excuse yourself. It was very nice to meet Marcus, and you tell him so, but you’re a little rattled by the possibility that was just laid out in front of you and you need a few deep breaths of fresh air before your break is over and you have to go back to solving guest’s dilemmas.
Juan doesn’t miss the way Marcus’s eyes follow you out of the room and he smirks. “Thinkin’ about it?” He asks, knowing you are the other man’s type.
“No.” He shakes his head quickly. “I mean, I would if she were single, but she’s not.” Deciding to change the subject, he leans in. “Did they heighten security here, or just the one agent?”
“Updated cameras and increased security personnel. We turned the spare office into a surveillance room but her Secret Service detail doesn’t butt in on anything they don’t need to.” Juan shrugs, knowing that things always change over time. “So far.”
That’s good and Marcus nods. “Sounds like you might have had some input.” He knows that Juan is very analytical, he would know what the weakness were in a place like this.
Juan snorts, taking a sip of his drink and shrugging vaguely. "My wife's childhood best friend is the First Daughter of the United States. If I can help her be safe, I'm going to."
“I can certainly understand that.” Marcus admits.
"It's a good system." Juan acknowledges. "She always has a detail agent nearby and the place needs the security because we've gotten a hell of a lot busier since the campaign last year."
“I’m sure.” Marcus snorts. “Everyone wants to claim they have some insider pull.” He says, a little cynical, but he looks around. “And I’m sure a lot of it is the fact that this place is a little gem.”
"272-year-old farmhouse with restored gardens and a barn and a gazebo from 1823. The place has had so many owners and been used for so many things." It's clear that Juan has nothing but affection for the place, and that he really has leaned into a fully civilian life. "I'm glad you came out to say hi," he tells Marcus honestly. "Hopefully we'll see more of you around here."
“With food like this?” Marcus groans, throwing his buddy a grin. “Those are the best damn pancakes that I’ve eaten in forever.”
"And considering you're a certified pancake expert, that says something." Juan chuckles. When Marcus hadn't shown up for a few weeks he was afraid that maybe he had said something wrong or that his old friend had moved on from the comradery they used to have, Apparently, neither was the case.
“Still love pancakes. It’s finding the time to eat them, that’s the problem.” He snorts. “It’s getting better now that I run the department, but after I ran into you? I was flying out two days later.”
"Sounds like you earned a day to relax." Sounds like he earned a lot more than just one day, but Juan knows how the Bureau works. A single day can sometimes be a miracle to come by. "There's books and board games in the library if you want to stay and spend some time relaxing."
“What do you have going on?” Marcus asks, tilting his head curiously.
“It’s…board game night.” As silly and domestic as it sounds, it’s a nice tradition that they’ve managed to keep going among friends. “Every month we have a group of friends over and we do a potluck for dinner. Just to unwind and be social. Just catch up, eat some good food, and play board games. You’re more than welcome to join us.”
“I don’t want to impose.” Marcus shakes his head, wondering if he’s so desperate that it sounds like great evening or if it just really was.
“It’s not imposing,” Juan assured him. “We bring new friends all the time. There’s about six of us usually, so it fluctuates depending on how many other people we bring or if someone can’t make it.”
“Well, is there a store or something?” He asks. “I can pick up some wine or something to contribute.”
“Old Town has some good liquor stores.” The historic district of Alexandria has become increasingly popular in the last several years, and the revitalization of the neighborhood has helped the inn as well.
“Anything else you could possibly want?” Marcus asks seriously. He’s willing to go get anything that could be thought of, the prospect of not spending the night alone incredibly cheering.
“Get whatever you want,” Juan encourages. “Every once in a while someone will show up with something they’ve never tried just try to it together. So really — anything you want.”
“Okay.” Marcus grins, excited about this and reaches out to slap Juan on the back. “Do you still ride bikes or have you given that up?”
"Hell no." Juan tuts, glad to see the smile back on Marcus's face. "My Indian is back at our house. We take rides when we've got time off together."
“That’s good. Although the rides have taken a pause since the pregnancy, right?” Marcus asks. “I can’t imagine a doctor signing off on a pregnant woman on the back of a bike.”
“Yeah…these days we take rides in the station wagon.” He chuckles at that, and Juan knows how ridiculously domestic it sounds but he really doesn’t care. He’s in love with his life in a very unexpected way, and that’s okay. “It’ll be nice to have someone to ride with again.”
“I can imagine.” Marcus is missing that, but on the bright side, he rides when and where he wants. “Do you guys know what you’re having yet?” He asks.
“Not yet.” Juan is excited, though, as evidenced by the way he lights up when asked about it. “It’s still too early to find out. Obviously we don’t care, as long as they’re healthy and happy.”
“Congrats, man, you’re living the dream, you know that?” As envious as he can admit to being, he’s also incredibly happy for Juan. “You deserve it. Especially after, you know…”
“Life is totally different now.” Leaving the Bureau is what was best for Juan. He knows that now, even if it was a painful decision to make back then. “I’m not going to ever downplay the things in my past, but the future is looking pretty fucking good, man.”
Completely understanding the fact that Juan doesn’t want to talk, he nods. “I’m happy for you. Truly.”
“I appreciate that, man.” Juan grins and pats Marcus on the shoulder. “Enjoy some time in town and come on back here around seven tonight. Syd isn’t working the dinner rush tonight so we’ll all be able to relax.”
“That sounds good.” The comfortable jeans and a sweater will still look sharp enough for game night and he sends his friend a smile before he walks out of the kitchen.
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Things have calmed down in the lobby when you return to the front desk to pick up a few papers and check in on your concierge before retreating into your office for the rest of your shift. The inn may have calmed down but you're still spinning wildly on the idea that your soulmate might have walked through the door of the inn this morning with absolutely no fanfare and a nervous smile on his incredibly handsome face.
Nope. Stop it. Sam is coming for board game night tonight and you really fucking like him. Don't give up your whole stance on freedom of happiness just because some absolutely dishy FBI agent has your tattoo.
"Everything going okay, Malachi?" You will be professional, and not a blithering mass of nervous energy. Even if it takes all the energy you have to force it.
“Everything’s fantastic, we had another couple call to book a room for next weekend. So we officially will have no vacancies.” He reports proudly, like he had recruited the couple himself.
"Good. That's actually excellent. That means we have no vacancies at any point for two week on either side of Valentine's Day unless someone cancels." It's always possible. After all, break up happen around that particular holiday. But with the way they've been booking rooms lately, they should be able to fill a hole more easily than not. "I'm going to go to my office and work on the schedule. If you need me, just call."
“Of course.” Malachi cranes his neck as that handsome guy walks out to a beautiful motorcycle. “But before you go.” He hums. “Who is that?”
You can't help but chuckle, your concierge's obvious interest making you recognize the ridiculousness of the whole situation all over again. "That's Juan's friend," you tell him, gathering up your paperwork. "He'll be around more, and he's allowed into the kitchen. So you know he's special."
“And does Juan’s friend have a name?” He asks, smirking slightly.
"Special Agent Marcus Pike." You smirk right back at him, giving Marcus's title along with his name. By now Agent Bailey has probably done an entire workup on the agent. Why wouldn't she?
“Special Agent.” Because it’s the two of you and there’s no guest around, Malachi watches out the window with unabashed interest. “He can mount me like he mounts that bike any time.”
"Mal!" There's no reason for you to be taken aback by that comment considering how well you know Malachi Debose, but you still find yourself stifling a laugh with wide eyes. You tell yourself to joke, ignoring the twist in your chest at the idea of Marcus with anyone else. It's not up to you. He's his own person. And he might not even be your soulmate to begin with! "I'm pretty sure he's straight, honey, but you never know. It would not be the first guy you've swept out of the closet who didn't even realize they were in there in the first place."
He sighs dramatically, even though he’s smirking proudly. “You’re right.” He admits. “We’ll see how mister Special Agent Marcus Pike acts and then I’ll decide.”
"Behave yourself." Is the playful warning you give him before turning and nodding to Agent Bailey. "Time to sit in the office while I swear at my computer," you tell her. As the Secret Service agent who is with you most of the time, Kendra Bailey has learned your past, your friends, your job, and your habits like a book. She appreciates that you're not throwing yourself into politics because it means her days are a little calmer than they could be, but the coming and going of all sorts of people through the inn on a daily basis presents its own challenges.
She nods, already curious about the FBI agent that she’s encountered here. It’s not unusual to run background checks on people who continuously hang around the inn, and it sounds like he will become a fixture for the foreseeable future. “Of course, Hummingbird.”
You groan softly, realizing that that is going to get said around Marcus Pike at some point or other, and just try to shake it off for now. "You can call me by my name around here, you know." She won't. You've had this conversation more than once, but sometimes you think you'll never get used to being ma'am or Hummingbird at all times to your Secret Service detail.
“Yes ma’am.” She nods, both of you aware that she’s not going to break protocol like that. Instead, she’s turning to the chair that has been placed outside your office, tucked into a discreet corner so it’s not completely obvious that you are being guarded. Giving you the illusion of privacy.
"Someday I'm going to get you to at least come into the office." There are rules. A hell of a lot of them, in fact, and you know that they exist for a reason. But Agent Bailey is allowed to be in your office with you, and you hope it won't take your mother's entire first term in office for her to get comfortable enough with you to do that.
“I understand that, but if I’m in your office, you won’t concentrate.” She reminds you with a small, unseen smile. The first time you had insisted, you hadn’t gotten anything done.
"Too social for my own good, I guess." With a small smile exchanged between the two of you, you nod in agreement before heading down the hall to your office. She's right, and you both know it.
Outside, a snazzy sports car pulls up. Not too flashy, because a junior congressman from Maryland can’t be seen throwing money away frivolously, but sporty enough to make him grin as he changes gears. The door pops open, sunglasses tossed on the dash and Sam hustles out of his car, eager to see you.
"Hey Sam." Malachi looks up from the desk when the door opens and offers up a smile. Professional, but friendly. So far, Congressman Chase hasn't done anything to warrant the cold shoulder. "Is she expecting you?"
“Not until later, but I was hoping to surprise her.” He admits, sending the concierge a wink. “She in her office?”
"Just went in to work on the schedule." Malachi reports, but his smile morphs from professional to earnest in half a second. "The new software is giving her a headache and a half. I bet coming in with a cup of coffee with also be a welcome surprise."
“You are a good man, Malachi.” Sam slaps the antique reception stand and grins. “Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.” He lifts his brows and points at him as he changes directions to the kitchen to beg a cup of coffee from Sydney.
A knock on the kitchen door is odd but not unheard of, and Sydney glances back over her shoulder when the swinging door pushes open to admit the six-foot Congressman she now affectionately calls, "Sam Sam! As happy as I am to see you, your lady friend is not in the kitchen."
“I know.” Sam tosses the chef an easy grin. “A little birdie told me that she might appreciate a cup of coffee, so I’m here to be her runner.”
Sydney smirks, never ceasing in her work but nodding to the coffee pot in the corner of the kitchen. “Go right ahead. I’m sure she’ll be grateful.”
“Thank you.” He immediately beelines for the coffee maker, intent on also making himself a cup. Though he would prefer a cocktail. “It smells great in here, like always.” He tosses over his shoulder.
“Flattery will get you everywhere.” She hums happily in return. “I made a lasagna for game night. Are you staying?”
“Unless an emergency session is call.” Sam snorts. “And you know half those crusty old bastards don’t want to work.” He adds some creamer and sweetener to his, doctors yours and turns back. “Is this the lasagna with the pancetta?” He asks, giving her a pleading look.
“It is, and I did a little something different with the ricotta layer this time, so you’ll have to tell me what you think.” One hand shoos him playfully away, but she does laugh. “I’ll feed you later. Go see your lady.”
“Thank you!” He laughs as well, zipping out the door to head in to see you. Hopefully you aren’t working on anything too important that you can’t steal away some time for him.
Two short knocks on your door could be anyone, but you save your progress in working on next week’s schedule and call for them to come in. It’s probably Malachi with a guest accommodation question, which is no problem. You can hit pause on scheduling the housekeeping staff around their various class schedules to answer just about anything.
After getting the okay to enter, Sam juggles the cups and pokes his head in the door. “Can you spare a few minutes, beautiful?” He asks.
The grin that spreads on your face is surprise and relief, and you hop up from your dream to open the door fully. “If that’s coffee in your hands, I can spare more than just a few.”
“Of course it is, fixed just the way you like it.” While he doesn’t drink it nearly as sweet as you do, he also doesn’t make fun of you for it.
“To what do I owe the early visit?” The door clicks shut behind him and you sit back in your chair with a happy sigh.
“We let out early.” Sam explains. “Figured we could spend some time together .”
“I’m always glad to see you.” It’s true. It genuinely is. Which is why you hate the nagging guilt of the fact that you had just been telling yourself to stop speculating about your possible soulmate and focus on work.
“That’s a good thing.” Despite the idea that dating the First Daughter was good for his career, Sam genuinely cares for you. It might not be the passionate love he had imagined years ago, but he’s mature enough to understand that a solid connection was a good thing.
“So your meeting went alright?” The committee that he’s on had an unofficial lunch meeting today, which must have gone well if he’s already here saying hello. “I was afraid they’d have you all day and you’d miss out in lasagna and the new Clue game that Sydney’s sister picked up.”
“No.” Sam snorts. “They wanted it done as quickly as possible.” He tells you. “I’ve got to admit that I’ve never seen people that hate to work more than politicians.”
“Well that’s hardly encouraging,” you snort, and shake your head before taking a sip of hot coffee. “I guess you’ll just have to whip them into shape, Congressman. No two ways about it.”
“I’m trying.” He laughs and shrugs. “Right now I equate it to herding cats.” He jokes, sitting down on the other side of your desk and watching you for a moment while you savor your coffee.
“That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever called a member of the House of Representatives.” The two of you share a laugh, and you shift in your seat a little with an awkward expression before talking again. “I…got an email this morning. From Mom’s office. Informing me of my first few expected photo ops as First Daughter.” It’s a big part of the job, for you at least, to look the part and play the part and help the country to see your mother as not just the president, but a family-oriented professional as well. Being the first female President has its challenges and your mother is plowing into them head on. Which, honestly? You give her a lot of credit for. “They asked if I would be willing to release some social media photos from our Valentine’s date…” The fact that you hadn’t planned one yet is slightly beyond the point. Now you pretty much have to.
“Well, what kind of pictures would you like?” Sam asks easily, aware that you don’t relish the attention, but it’s part of the job. “We can do a dinner at home, appeal to the base of Americans.” He suggests.
“I don’t love the idea of someone recognizing an aspect of your house or neighborhood and you getting doxed for it,” you admit ruefully. It would have to be Sam’s house, since you don’t actually have one. You can’t exactly put out photos of your attic apartment and expect the White House press core not to make noises. “I was thinking we could put the spotlight on a minority-owned small business or go to some low-key arts event? If they’re going to ask me to be in the spotlight then I want to use it for good.”
“Do you want to decide?” He asks, aware that you can be quite choosy at times. He doesn’t really mind. “Or do you want me to come up with something?”
“It’s probably easier if I figure it out.” You admit. It’s not your favorite option, all things considered, but since it’s dumb for you to be even vaguely upset that your boyfriend didn’t announce he had secret plans already in the works — which your stupid romantic comedy loving brain had hoped for but knew was a longshot — it’s better to just be practical. “So the Secret Service can tell me if wherever I pick is insecure or something like that. Even though I can’t imagine that anybody is out to get me. That’s absurd.”
“You’d be surprised what humans are capable of.” Sam reminds you, having read some of the most horrific reports imaginable. He likes that you are practical, even if you are a bit naive.
“Not a super fun thing to hear from your boyfriend, but okay.” It’s nothing you can’t brush off, and you do so with a wave of your hand. “There is also a state dinner coming up in a few weeks that I definitely do not want to go to without you.”
“I’m available.” He promises. “I’ve got a couple of events in my district coming up. But I’ll mark that on my calendar.”
“Thank you.” Though you aren’t blind to the ways that attending these things helps him, you appreciate the company. You aren’t effortlessly charismatic like your brother or a star student with enigmatic insights like your sister. You’re the least comfortable in the public eye out of your whole family, and that is what it is. At some point in the night when he inevitably veers off to shake hands and schmooze politically, you’ll sit quietly at your table and smile politely while you wait for Sam to come back, and that’s okay. “I really really appreciate it.”
Sam huffs, sending you a small smirk. “A night where you are wearing a beautiful dress, we eat an elegant dinner, what’s not to love?” He leaves the part about making connections unspoken, both of you know how this game is worked. “And maybe you can come spend the night at my place after.”
"What an absolutely scandalous suggestion." One hand clutches your nonexistent pearls, pretending to be aghast, but you throw him a wink. Intimacy in your relationship unfortunately does have to be scheduled at a certain point...just on the basis that you have a Secret Service agent you can't simply ditch, and he has a personal assistant that might be even more invasive than the Secret Service. "I love it."
“Good.” Sam smirks back at you and sends you his own wink. “I’ve missed a cute little snore, and I need to get some cuddling in.”
"I do not snore." Despite pouting at him – and knowing that you do, in fact, snore – you end up grinning. "But we have been low on cuddle time lately, I agree."
“Yeah, I know my job is hectic and yours isn’t a walk in the park.” He acknowledges wholeheartedly. “But I want this to work. Maybe we just need to move in together.” He hadn’t meant to just blurt that out, but he’s been thinking about it.
“I—what?” You nearly spit out the sip of coffee you had just taken and sit up arrow straight in your chair, staring at him without the ability to stop yourself. “You—you want me to—to move in with you?” It’s never been discussed. Not really. At least not with a timeline, and that’s probably your fault. You’re so prone to jumping into relationships head first that you had told yourself you would move slow with Sam. That…seems to not be the case now.
“It doesn’t have to be now.” He promises. “Just something to consider. That’s all. We would get more time together.”
"I can honestly say I was not expecting that today." It's shaken you up a little, if you're honest, but you reach over your desk and squeeze his hand before leaning out of your chair to kiss him.
“That’s not a bad thing, is it?” It’s not quite the reaction he was expecting, if he is honest with himself.
"No, not at all!" You're quick to reassure him, realizing that Sam's expression is a little more guarded than usual. You've disappointed him. That's not a feeling you like at all. Not even a little. "I'd say the fact that my boyfriend wants to spend more time with me is a very good thing." If it's such a good thing, why is your mouth dry and why are you all tense with nerves? "And I want that, too. You just surprised me, that's all."
“Of course we need to talk about it more in depth.” He relaxes slightly, happy that you are at least open to the idea.
"Is that...something you want to talk about soon?" There are ideas rolling over in your head with varying levels of comfort, but the fact is that you hadn't realized that Sam was already there. Sure you had said your I love yous already, but you really had been trying to go slower this time, and that pace had seemed to suit Sam just fine. And why is it suddenly now that your mind is stuck on the idea that he isn't your soulmate? Is it just because you met a man who could be? You had always told yourself it didn't matter before now...
“We are coming up on our one-year anniversary of dating.” He reminds you, wondering why all of a sudden you look like you’ve seen a ghost. He’s been patient, letting you move slowly since you were afraid of diving in too much too soon, but this is the natural next step. Otherwise, it will be random sleepovers whenever you can manage it for the rest of your lives and Sam doesn’t want that. “I figured we could discuss what our next steps were.” He smiles softly. “I want the next steps, whenever you’re ready.”
"You're right." He is right. The logic is there, and the sweetness, and you do genuinely like him. In fact, loving him came easily and naturally. It's just that today has you a little shaken up and you don't want to admit it to yourself. Any other day and you would have been ecstatically throwing yourself into his arms. "You're absolutely right. This is definitely next." Composing yourself into a smile and reminding yourself to goddamn relax, you pick up your now cold coffee and finish the cup. "Why don't we pick a night this week to cook dinner together and talk through what we want our future to look like?"
“That works.” He flashes you the boyish grin you claim to love and nods. “Little food. Little wine, little….cuddling while we talk. It’s exactly what we need. You’ve been peddle to the mettle lately, and so have I. It will be good to decompress and hash out our concerns.”
"Perfect." And you will, you tell yourself sternly, get your shit together by then.
“But tonight…” he winks at you. “I’m going to whoop your ass at Clue.”
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Because it's your turn to host, your small apartment has been cleaned top to bottom in preparation for the night. Sydney took care of making dinner, you have dessert in the refrigerator, and you have it on the authority of the group chat that garlic bread and salad are both coming as well. Juan said he and Marcus were supplying drinks, so everything is set up with plenty of time for everyone to arrive.
Agent Bailey is sitting on the couch waiting for her evening relief so she can go home to her own family and Sam is setting a stack of mismatched plates on the dining room table when Juan, Marcus, Sydney, and her sister Anna Leigh all show up very promptly on the turn of the hour.
Marcus is a little nervous aware that he has a tenuous tie to the game night, but he is quickly at ease when everyone starts greeting people like old friends. He hadn’t quite known what to get, so he had bought several bottle of whiskey and wine, figuring someone would appreciate it. The bottle of ‘76 Statesman Reserve a personal favorite of his and the little store he had stopped at had one last bottle.
"Hey, we didn't scare Marcus off!" Maybe you're a little happy to see him, but you excuse that as being glad that Juan has his friend back and ardently ignore the way your chest clenches when he walks into your little apartment.
“Hope you don’t mind.” He offers instantly, holding back from flirting like he wants to. You are seeing someone. “But I brought gifts.” He holds up the bottle, the others in his bag.
“Statesman.” You practically groan with delight at the sight of the bottle. “When we were campaigning in Kentucky, my little brother and I toured their distillery, I love this stuff.” Fighting the instinct to offer him a hug — and it really is an instinct — you grin and wander toward the kitchen to complete introductions. “You already know Syd and Juan, of course. The beautiful agent of chaos currently throwing garlic bread in the oven is Syd’s sister Anna Leigh, and the intimidating lady on the sofa with the New York Times crossword in her lap is Agent Bailey. I don’t know if you two officially met earlier or not. Looking around, Sam is not in sight, but you chew your lip for a second and smile. “My other half seems to have disappeared, but I’m sure he’ll be right back.”
“Oh, okay.” He shouldn’t be disappointed that your boyfriend is here. That’s what he keeps telling himself. “Congressman from Maryland, right?” Okay, he might have read up on you.
“Right.” There’s a note of something off in Marcus’s voice but you can’t figure out what, so you just smile. “I promise we don’t use official titles over board games.”
“Good.” He cracks a lighthearted grin. “I hate when I’m made in charge of the jail in Monopoly.” He jokes. He hands you the bottle and looks around the little apartment. “Anything I can do to help?”
“I think we’re just waiting for Issy and then everyone will be here. So for now if you want to maybe pour drinks while we all get settled?” This is always an informal setting and you want everyone to feel relaxed as much as possible. “Let me give you the grand tour first?” What a stupid thing to say in your little, tiny space. But now you’ve said it, so you just have to pretend it was something charming to say instead of awkward.
“That sounds good.” Marcus quickly agrees, although it’s obvious that there’s not much to the small space. “The private sanctum.”
“Eat it kitchen.” Is the space you’re standing in, with a too-big dining room table that is also your prep counter because there is basically no counter space — just enough to put a few grocery bags on and nothing more. “I have an unholy love of dinner parties, hence the big table. Over here is the living room. Mandatory bar cart with the tv, and as many throw pillows as the couch can hold.” Agent Bailey currently has her arm resting on the head of a pillow shaped like a horse that you brought back from a campaign trip out West. “Bathroom is down the hall, just here.” The door is closed, so that must be where Sam is. “And just turn the corner and you’re in the bedroom-slash-library.” You have to call it that — you really have to, because the entire room is covered in wall to wall bookcases that are pretty much entirely full. The only exceptions are where your sleigh bed and writing desk sit on opposite ends of the tight room. “It’s more library than anything else.”
“Obviously like to read.” He nods. “What genre? Or is it too embarrassing to mention in company?”
“I’m not embarrassed at all to read romance novels.” A whole section of the shelf by your bed is dedicated to them, in fact. Healthy sexuality and healthy explorations of that sexuality are vital, but you won’t get that far into the topic. “I have a lot of various things here, but the majority are probably mystery, thrillers, and classics from all over the world.” The shelf you’re standing by has your collection of writing by both F. Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald, and you smile. “Of course, some of the classics are romances. That’s to be expected.”
“They are. I find that if you limit yourself in what you read, you are missing out.” He looks over your shelf with interest. “It looks like a wonderful collection.”
“Thank you. A compliment for my books is the highest compliment possible.” There’s a warm smile on your lips when the bathroom door pulls open a few feet away and you feel like you’ve been caught although there isn’t a single thing wrong about showing a new friend around your apartment. There’s no reason to jump out of your skin, but here you are with burning cheeks feeling embarrassed.
“Hey, sweetheart.” Sam doesn’t frown, but he wonders who this man is and why he is in your bedroom.
"Hey." Your smile does widen of its own accord, and you motion between the men in a sort of vaguely formal way that is definitely odd for you. "Sam, this is Marcus. One of Juan's old friends. He came by the inn earlier today and we thought it would be nice to introduce him to the group." It's awful, and very unnecessary, how heavy your tongue feels when you go to make the introduction the opposite way. "Marcus, this is Sam. My boyfriend."
It’s a little awkward, Marcus can admit that but he extends his hand. “Nice to meet you, Sam.” He offers, smiling in a friendly, first meeting kind of way. “My connection to the group is through Juan.” He explains. “We were at the academy together.”
"Ah, a government man." That seems to win Sam's approval, though his handshake might be just a hair tighter than it would otherwise be based on the tension in the air. "Well, welc—"
"Babe!" Sydney's voice comes loud and clear from the other room as the door opens and the sound of chaotic friends can be heard. "Issy's here! Let's gooo!"
The introductions are interrupted and it’s probably not a bad thing. Marcus lets go of Sam’s hand and immediately makes for the door. “Guess that’s our queue.”
“Coming!” You call back, eager to be standing anywhere but your doorway between these two men. “Issy is a friend from college.” That’s the easy explanation you give Marcus as Sam steers you back to the kitchen with his hand on your back. “Syd, Anna Leigh, and Issy and I were suite mates at Mount Holyoke.”
Marcus nods, committing everyone to memory. “Nice to meet all of you. Thank you for letting me join you tonight.”
Getting everything set up doesn’t take much longer, and a buffet of cheesy garlic bread, a huge salad, Sydney’s pancetta lasagna, and the lemon tiramisu you made for dessert is all laid out on the counter. Everyone digs in and says a loud chorus of rowdy good nights when your Secret Service detail has its changing of the guard in the middle of it all. It’s a lot, and it’s chaos, but it’s so comforting because these are all people you love to spend time with. Even Marcus, as new as he is, fits right into the group effortlessly.
“Oh! Sydney.” Marcus dives back into the bag and pulls out a bottle of sparkling white grape juice and some sodas and grenadine. “I figured you might like my family’s version of Shirley Temple’s?” He offers. “So you can have a mocktail with the ladies?”
“Absolutely!” Syd’s eyes light up at the offer, and she brings her overstuffed plate over to the table to sit beside her husband. In her favorite baggy sweatshirt, no one could ever tell she’s pregnant, but one of her hands rests on the side of her belly anyway. “That sounds fantastic.”
“So my grandmother used to make these for all the kids, so we could feel special too.” Marcus explains as he grabs a wine glass and starts to mix together the non-alcoholic drink. “It had to be sparkling grape juice because of the bottle shape.” He chuckles now, but back then? He had felt grown up. “When she died, we served these at her wake.”
“That’s so sweet.” Sydney awes softly as Marcus carefully pours out the drink. “These are Birdie’s favorite, actually,” she points her thumb back at you while she chats at him. “We usually spike them with rum, of course. To be a Shirley Temple Black. I can’t remember the last time I just had a regular old Shirley Temple.”
“A dirty Shirley?” Marcus gasps in faux horror. “The best way to spike that is with Statesman.”
“On it!” You hop up from the table immediately to grab a glass and line up next to Sydney at the counter. “I’ve heard of people doing them with rum and vodka, but never with whiskey. I have to know.”
He chuckles and nods. “You won’t regret it. The grape juice plays off the smoky, oaky flavors very nicely.” He tells you. “It’s almost better than a robust bouquet on a red.”
“I can’t claim to know anything about wine, but I’m trying to learn.” Sam prefers wine, and you’ve been trying to not feel foolish when people discuss wine pairings at official dinners. It’s been a fairly deep learning curve. “But I’ll take your word for it.”
“More of a whiskey girl?” Marcus asks, filing away the information even though it’s not like he’s going to use it. One of those odd little quirks of his time in the Bureau, he tries to read people.
“Always have been.” As evidenced by the Whiskey Makes Me Frisky sweater still stuff in your closet from college, which won’t see the light of day again until your mother is out of office. “You too?” Your eyes widen immediately and you stumble over correcting yourself. “Guy, I mean? Whiskey guy?”
Marcus laughs and gives you a guilty grin. “I learned to enjoy wine. My ex was a wino to the point where we honeymooned in Napa Valley.” He snorts. “But my first love was a Jack and Coke.”
“The next time you’re sick, have a whiskey and ginger beer.” The advice comes as he hands you your glass but he looks skeptical. “I mean, it’s a good drink no matter what, but I swear it knocks out my colds faster than anything else.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Marcus hums and decides that he will make one for himself. “Tell me what you think.”
One sip has you groaning, and you bring the glass back to the table like you’ve found the Holy Grail. “Sammy, try this. I know you’re not usually big in whiskey, but this is fantastic.”
Sam wrinkles his nose, really uninterested in trying it, but he politely takes a sip. Pleasantly surprised, he makes a face. “Huh. That’s not as horrible as I imagined.”
“And that,” you look back at Marcus and laugh. “Is the highest compliment he’s ever given a whiskey drink.”
Marcus chuckles politely and motions towards the table. “There’s a nice Cabernet that he might like better.” He offers.
“That sounds perfect.” You move back to the counter to collect a wine glass, corkscrew, and the bottle to bring back, knowing that Sam will open it far more neatly than you can.
“So how has everybody been?” Prompting conversation once everyone is at the table gets the ball rolling nicely, and conversation starts as everyone starts to eat their dinner.
“Well, everyone knows that Sydney is expecting.” Juan boasts proudly, obviously loving the prospect of becoming a father. “But she started experiencing her first cravings.”
“Oooo, what are they?” Issy sits up in her chair immediately. “Please tell me it’s something non-gourmet. If this baby is a food snob I’m not going to have anything to tease you about.”
“Right now….” Juan grins and sends his wife an utterly besotted look. “Ranch flavored bugles.”
“Oh my god!” Both Issy and Anna Leigh practically scream with laughter immediately and your jaw hits the table with maniacal giggle.
“I know,” Syd moans in embarrassment. “I know! The baby likes ranch!”
“There must be a joke there somewhere.” Marcus laughs, enjoying the lighthearted atmosphere of the group and how they are all so easy with each other.
"Syd's current greatest fear is having a kid who doesn't care about food." You explain, picking up a forkful of lasagna. "If they turned out to not like food or hockey, she'll be doomed."
“I see.” He chuckles, although he himself had a less refined pallet when he was younger. Now he enjoys trying new things.
"They're exaggerating." Sydney promises, not wanting her husband's old friend to think she's that much of a snob. "Obviously no kid comes out loving caviar and oxtail."
“No, I can see why you would expect your child to give you cravings for something like this.” He praises, lifting a forkful of the lasagna. “I gave my mom cravings for salami and bologna. Which she couldn’t eat.”
"My mom had a lot of cheese cravings." Not expecting baby-oriented conversation was probably an oversight on your part, but it's fun and your best friend just absolutely glows whenever it's brought up. "With me it was gruyere, with my brother it was cheddar, and with my little sister it was asiago." The memory makes you grin, and you laugh a little, mostly to yourself. "She ate so many asiago bagels when she was pregnant with June."
“Ohhhhh I could see how that could be an easy craving.” Issy snorts. “I have cravings for those all the time and I’m not pregnant.”
"Right?" You're nodding in agreement instantly. "I'm honored that my pregnancy craving was gruyere. That's quality cheese."
“Maybe the craving will change to truffle cheddar fries.” Marcus suggests with a grin. “With ranch.”
“See, this is the kind of encouragement we should be thinking about. Positive thinking all the way.” Sydney grins, beaming across the table to her husband’s friend. Even if her hunch about the true nature of Marcus’s soulmate marks isn’t true, he’s still a good addition to the group. “What’s everybody else been up to.”
Everyone starts talking and Marcus leans back. Watching the dynamic of the group and it’s obvious that everyone is comfortable with each other. Talking over one another and laughing, poking fun in a gentle way. It seems as if Juan - and you - have a solid friends group.
The tempo of the night is unchanged from any other — there is as much laughter and fun as any game night you’ve had in years. The joy of having your friends nearby is never tempered, but tonight it is…just a little bit different. As for first time ever — with your boyfriend sitting next to you — you have to wonder if maybe your soulmate is actually sitting there at the table. And what will you do when it isn’t the man with his arm around you?
______
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lordofthecherubs · 22 days
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You're so pretty when I'm all over your mouth
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“Oh, cowboy, I’m going to eat you alive.”
“Please, do.”
And you were going to lick the plate clean.
Warnings/Tags: Smut. 18+ only. Minors DNI. Takes place during the Shady Belle Arc. Reader is a vampire.
The sound of crickets chirping amongst the soft breeze the wind provided was all that distracted you from what was truly on the forefront of your mind right now.
It was that time of the month.
And no, not that time. This was something different.
It was time for you to feed.
Typically, whenever you had these urges, they would go away from simply taking the blood of various animals that you hunted. That’s why you always liked to go hunting alone, unlike Hosea or Charles.
This would have been an easy effort to maintain had it not been for Dutch constantly making the gang move from place to place due to his inability to keep quiet and stay out of the limelight. Constantly having to pack up and go as quick as you could, it reminded you all too much of the incidents in Blackwater, where you lost Jenny and Davey. If only you had more time, you might’ve been able to save them. But you were weak then, and you’re becoming weak now.
Now, the gang resides in a camp they call Shady Belle. It was pretty spacious in comparison to other places you had stayed, an abandoned home in the center of the property. Some members of the gang got to stay inside it, while the rest opted (some more begrudgingly than others), to remain outside in their tents. While Miss Grimshaw had originally wanted you take a place inside the building, you declined; insisting it belong to Abigail and Jack.
So, here you were in your tent. It was on the smaller side, and only provided a slight amount of privacy. Not that you needed much, given the fact the gang had all seen each other at their worst and their best. However, given your… condition, it would’ve been nice to have a place where you weren’t entirely aware of everything going on around you. Along with the urge to drain the blood out of somethings body for your own sake, your senses were heightened. Every smell, feeling, and noise was on another level. You couldn’t miss the way you heard slightly heavy breaths from the tent nearest to yours if you tried. It was Arthur’s tent.
Arthur was one of the most respected members in the gang. In a way, it was like he was Dutch’s son. He also happened to be one of the few who could bring you out of your shell, as strange as that sounded. He was just different. Of course you liked to hang around and drink with the guys, while simultaneously spending time with the women and helping with chores. But you couldn’t help but detach yourself from them. You were hiding something. They were not.
Maybe Arthur was too. Maybe that’s why you feel like you can be yourself around him.
Maybe that’s why the way his slightly musky scent drifting into your direction made your mouth water.
No, stop it. Do not feed on people. Especially people you know.
You couldn’t help but shift around in your makeshift bed, the only thought consuming your head being hunger. Perhaps it would be best to just go hunt a rabbit, but it was far too risky to go alone as you felt yourself growing weaker by the minute.
Letting out a low groan of annoyance, you shoved your paling face into your pillow, hoping that maybe you’d be able to just sleep it off. The sound of crickets and frogs along the shore filled your ears, and you urged yourself to just go to sleep, forcing your eyes shut.
A throat cleared itself behind you.
Almost instantly, you shot up into a defensive position, having not heard whoever it was walk up to where you were.
“Jesus, I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”
Arthur.
You relaxed back onto your bed, sighing out in relief before making eye contact with the man in front of you.
“It’s okay, you didn’t scare me, just hadn’t heard you walk up is all.” You half-lied.
The cowboy let out a laugh. “Didn’t scare you? You looked like a bat outta hell!”
You’re sure he didn’t intend for that to be a pun.
“I just came to see if you were alright. You been tossin’ and turnin’ all night by the sounds of it.”
Of course he noticed.
Arthur noticed a lot of things when it came to you, weirdly enough. He took note of how your skin was always cold despite sitting in front of the campfire, and the way your ears were able to hear things that he wouldn’t have until a few minutes later.
“Oh.” You began to grow nervous, rubbing the back of your neck. “Y-yeah, I’m alright, couldn’t really get to sleep.”
He nodded, pretending not to see through the way you were lying to him. He was determined to dig deeper, for some reason.
“You wanna go on a walk with me?”
***
Upon reaching the entrance of the Shady Belle property, you found Arthur waiting for you, a cigarette hanging from his lips.
“All ready to go?” He asked, tossing it to the ground before grinding it down beneath his boot.
All you did was nod, hoping he would take the lead with things tonight.
It couldn’t have been any later than midnight, you were surprised at his admission to not being able to sleep either. Normally, you’d be able to strike up a playful conversation with Arthur easily. But tonight, you were on edge. You hoped he didn’t notice.
As the two of you headed deeper into the forest surrounding the camp, Arthur broke the silence again.
“So, what’s got you up all night, cowpoke? Regretting not taking a room in the house now?” He joked, though you could tell his question was coming from a place of genuine concern.
You forced a laugh, fiddling with the leather of your holster. “I guess you could say that,” you quietly agreed, avoiding eye contact. There was a heat burning in your chest. God, did he smell this good all the time?
“You’re not lyin’ to me now, are ya?” The cowboy pressed, stopping in his tracks beside a tree.
You looked up, attempting to read his face for a motive. But, classic Arthur Morgan style, he lowered his head, leaving his face covered by a black cowboy hat.
You didn’t have the energy to play along with his games tonight.
“And if I am?”
You hadn’t meant it to sound like a challenge, but the humid warmth of the air sticking to your skin mixed with his overbearingly strong scent, you couldn’t help but grow antsy.
Arthur raised his head, green eyes piercing into yours. His expression remained unreadable, though you could tell he was searching for what to say, leaving the tension between you two so thick it could be cut with a knife.
The outlaw didn’t hide the way he looked you up and down, and had it been anyone else, you wouldn’t have welcomed his approaching proximity so easily.
Standing before you, staring down at you, you couldn’t make out what he was trying to do. Intimidate you? That wasn’t like him.
At first, you remained looking at his chest, a button down shirt was all that stayed in your line of sight before him.
“Look at me,” He softly said. “Please.”
Inhaling sharply, you raised your head, craning your neck upwards to find his gaze. “If somethin’s botherin’ you, if someone did somethin’…” He trailed off, examining your face for any emotion.
You let a few beats pass before answering. You needed time to think. What do you say to that? You can’t tell him what’s really going on, but you didn’t want to lie either.
The wind blew a couple leaves around the two of you, stray pieces of hair on Arthur’s forehead moving along with them. You bit your tongue momentarily, as if that would satiate the urge to sink your teeth into the exposed skin of his slightly unbuttoned shirt.
This was becoming impossible.
“It’s nothing like that, Arthur. I-It’s…” You focused on your words carefully. “It’s just something you wouldn’t understand.”
A bit harsh, but sometimes things needed to be that way. Otherwise he’d confuse you for glass and see right through you.
You could tell he was a bit hurt by those words, the way his jaw clenched was proof enough. However, he wanted to help. He wasn’t satisfied with that answer.
“Then help me understand.”
The cowboy stepped closer. Closer than he had ever been before. It was all becoming too much, those same heightened senses betraying you all at once. His slightly sweaty skin shining in the moonlight, looking so desperate to have your teeth sunk into it. His overbearing scent filling your nose, making your mouth water.
Your heart raced in your chest.
“I don’t know if I can, Arthur.”
Thinking logically, what could you even say to him? Hey, Arthur, I know we’ve been running together in the gang for this long, but I forgot to mention that I’m a vampire! And, if you step any closer to me, I may lose my mind, draining your blood in the process!
Knowing Arthur, there were two reactions he could have to that. Laughing in your face, or killing you on the spot.
Both were not favorable.
Calloused fingers caressed your face, his palm held your cheek upwards to ensure you were looking at him.
“Try. For me, cowpoke.”
Maybe this is how he would kill you.
Maybe you would like it.
You were sure your eyes were glazed over at this point. Your fangs poked the inside of your cheek, and your mouth filled with saliva at the way his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. You wouldn’t last much longer like this.
With a shaky breath, you decided it was now or never.
“There’s just… something I need, but can’t exactly get. At least— not on my own.” You attempted to explain, lacking attention in the possible underlying tones your words carried.
Arthur gulped, sweat growing behind his neck. Clearly, his mind had gone south. “You mean…”
You knew what he thought you meant, and you stepped closer to where he stood, the already small distance between the two of you was nearly entirely closed up.
“No, Arthur,” You nearly pushed yourself forward into his chest, grasping at his shoulder to make him lean down, attempting to get your voice in his ear.
“I want your blood.” You said, just above a whisper.
Arthur pulled back, wanting to meet your eyes and make sense of the situation. What he was met with would never leave his head.
The once confident outlaw cowboy nearly buckled his knees at your gaze. Your eyes, full of want, something he thought he would never see from you in his life.
Chills ran up and down his spine, the same he’d get but never admit to having when finding himself cornered by an enemy.
Only, these were different. He almost wanted to lean into it. He almost needed it.
You looked at him like he was a meal.
Something stiffened in his pants.
And you could smell it. The aroma of arousal flooded you, making you swipe your tongue out from inside your mouth and slide over your lips. It was then that he caught a glimpse of your fangs, eyes widening.
The man realized he hadn’t spoken up since your initial comment, clearing his throat the same way he did when he creeped up on you at your tent.
“You can have it. It’s yours.”
What a careless thing to say.
In an instant, almost like a choreographed dance, you launched yourself forward, Arthur wrapping his hands around your waist as you clung to him, listening to the way your breathing grew heavy beside his ear.
“Mine, huh?” You heaved, teasingly dragging your teeth along his neck, loving the way he weakly lowered himself to his knees, soon laying flat on his back with you straddled on top of him.
Your palms laid flat against his chest, and you leaned down to lick over the spot you intended to sink your teeth into. Your jaw fell slack as you prepared to take your feast, but you paused when you felt something poke your behind.
A devious laugh erupted from you. “What’s this?” You asked, reaching a hand behind you to palm at his throbbing erection.
Arthur wiped a hand down his face. “Can’t help it when you’re on me like this, angel.”
Angel. His chosen term of endearment was angel. You could hear the way his heart pounded in his chest, the mixed scent of fear and arousal clouded around him, and he still called you angel.
Pressing your hips down to grind against him, you drank in the way he threw his head back instantly, his hat knocking off his head to display messy brown hair.
"Oh, cowboy, I’m going to eat you alive.”
“Please, do.”
And you were going to lick the plate clean.
The heat of his skin was becoming too much for you to hold back any longer, nearly launching forward towards his neck with your teeth bared. Without any warning, you snapped your fangs into him. The skin was soft, though tender, given the fact that he was a muscular man.
And he whined.
Arthur Morgan, killer, robber, and wanted man across states and cities, whined.
The cowboy’s firm hand steadied on your hips, his grip nearly bruising. The feeling of his neck being punctured into and fed from left him lightheaded, and he pleaded with himself to not pass out. He didn’t want to miss a single moment of this.
The sound of you humming feverishly against his skin, nails digging into his shoulders, and the slight continuous grind of your hips onto where he needed it most, he felt like he was in a dream.
After a few minutes, the initial point of penetration didn’t hurt anymore, leaving his senses to align with what he was feeling next. To ask a man with as limited of a vocabulary as he had to describe the feeling of the blood being drained from his body was a mistake. Because, he wouldn’t know what to say, other than that it was perfect.
The same way Reverend Swanson was addicted to substances, or John to troublemaking, he could become addicted to this.
Time passed, and you eventually pulled away, a mess of drool and blood left on the cowboys neck and your lips.
He wanted to kiss you. Your lips were swollen and covered in the red substance, your hair a mess atop your head, and your eyes half-lidded. He needed to kiss you.
“I’m sorry, that was probably really—“
The same rough hand from before grabbed behind your neck, pulling you down to his lips for a desperately rough kiss, the metallic taste of himself causing him to buck his hips upwards into nothing.
It had to be nearing morning now. The air had lost it’s humidity, and if not for the heat growing between the two of you, it would’ve been cold enough for goosebumps to litter your skin.
The cowboy didn’t hear a word you said, regaining his strength and flipping you over so that he was now on top of you.
You couldn’t help but feel embarrassed beneath him.
“Aw, gone shy on me now, cowpoke?” Arthur teased, brushing a lock of hair away from your face.
He leaned down and kissed you again, though this time, he didn’t remain on your lips for long. The scruff of his stubble prodded against your skin as he lowered himself down, kissing your neck and collarbones.
“You said you were gonna eat me alive, right, angel?” He asked, holding himself up to look down at you.
Your cheeks flushed, and you nodded, avoiding his eyes.
“Looks like you held back. Can’t have been easy for you, sweet thing, I know,” He paused, grabbing your cheeks roughly to force you to look at him. “I think you deserve a reward.”
Brows pitched upwards on your face, your hips subconsciously rolled upwards at his gravelly voice and sudden dominant nature.
A smirk filled the outlaws face, and he reached down to undo the top buttons of your pants.
“Now, you’re not so desperate you’d take my blood and want me to fuck you, are you cowpoke?”
Biting down on your lip, you didn’t care that you nearly caused yourself to bleed.
Arthur’s large hand reached into your pants, his fingers prodding over the wet spot in your panties.
He hummed. “Guess you are.”
You reached out to dig your nails into his arm as he rubbed his fingers against your bundle of nerves, silently pleading with him for more.
“Gotta use your words, angel. Can’t know what you want ‘less you tell me.”
“P-please, Arthur…need you,” You pleaded, opting to reach down and pull down your pants for him.
The cowboy stopped you in your tracks, pulling them down gently the rest of the way, admiring the way your slick glistened in the moonlight.
He couldn’t wait any longer. He was growing light-headed from the blood loss, and if his pants got any tighter, he might’ve lost his mind right then and there.
With that, he shoved his own pants down along with his boxers, revealing his length to you.
At first, you stared, shocked. The way it bobbed upwards and throbbed, leaking from the tip, you felt bad for teasing him.
Then, gone went your own undergarments, your bottom half on full display to Arthur. If someone told you a few hours ago you’d be in the situation you were in right now, you’d laugh in their face.
But here you are, Arthur Morgan on top of you, lining himself up with your dripping mess of a cunt.
“If it’s too much, tell me.” He said, clearly trying to keep his composure above you.
All it took was a nod, and he slowly pushed himself forward into you, causing you both to gasp.
The grip you had on his arm tightened, the slight pain of him stretching you out engulfing your senses.
Arthur, on the other hand, was doing everything in his power not to slam himself into you without any time to adjust.
He was nicer than that, so he refrained by biting down on his lip. He wouldn’t last long like this, with the way you were so tight around him, pulling him deeper inside.
Once he was fully inside you, Arthur allowed you some time to get used to him, admiring the way you looked beneath him.
“Just tell me when you’re—“
“For the love of God, Arthur. If you don’t move I’m going to lose my mind.” You didn’t have to tell him twice.
Pulling out slightly, then thrusting forward, he couldn’t help the way a groan slipped past his lips.
But it was nothing compared to you. Typically, you liked to remain modest and not cause too much commotion. Though, was that at all possible when a cowboy just let you drink his blood, and was now fucking you like it was nothing?
It was almost overwhelming, the way you both came together like this. You had been so wound up, the feeling of the band in your stomach snapping was approaching rapidly, and it didn’t help when he reached down and began to rub at your clit, a new wave of pleasure added on top of what you were already experiencing.
It was all too much, really. In the best way possible.
“A-Arthur, ‘m close…” You warned, eyes nearly shut as you whined loudly.
“I know, angel, me too,” He said between thrusts, groaning out momentarily. “Need you to be good and cum for me, okay? Can you do that, darlin’?”
You nodded quickly, as if you had any say in the matter.
It all happened so fast, white-hot pleasure you had never felt before ripping through your entire body, tears filling your eyes as you reached a climax like no other. Not far behind, Arthur’s speed was growing sloppy, and he readied to pull himself out of you, but you grabbed his arm again.
“Inside, please,” You begged, cheeks stained with tears as you looked up at him. Almost instantly, that was enough for him. His hips snapped forward, releasing himself inside of you as per your wishes.
The sound of labored breathing filled your ears as he fell down on top of you, catching his breath. You were content to lay on the ground like this with him forever if he’d let you, but you knew he would have questions as soon as he gathered his senses.
Arthur rolled off of you, matching you by laying on his own back, his hand wiping sweat from his forehead.
A beat of silence.
“…So, you’re a vampire, then?”
You wanted to giggle at the bluntness of his question.
“Yes, you could call it that,” You hummed, turning your head to look at him. A drop of blood began to slide down his neck, and you almost instantly shot your hand forward to wipe it with your thumb, bringing it to your mouth.
It was greedy. But he liked it.
Another beat of silence.
“D’you think the camp heard us?”
You both erupted into laughter, soon ending in the cowboy pulling you onto himself, assaulting your face with kisses.
“Been wantin’ to do that for a while now, cowpoke.”
You met his eyes. “Do what? Fuck me in the woods just outside camp, or let me suck your blood?”
Arthur flicked your forehead gently.
“Kiss you, smartass.”
So he did it again. And again. And again until you had to push him away because it started to tickle you, and the rising sun began to appear in the corner of your eye.
“We should head back, Arthur.”
“In a minute, I wanna see these things…” He muttered, using his fingers to part your jaw and expose your fangs. “Jesus! Those were inside my neck?”
Playfully, you bit down on his finger. “Sure were, now stop stalling.”
There were more questions that weighed on his mind, but he knew you probably wanted to get back and relieve yourself into some much needed sleep.
Helping you up, you leaned into his side while his arm wrapped around you, the two of you quietly making your way to camp, dawn breaking.
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antoncyng · 2 months
Text
another small drabble because these kind of plots have been on my mind ever since the video of jennie surprising rose on her fancall 2 years ago.. can you see where im going ? so imagine this with you and wonbin.. 🤍
surprise! - park wonbin
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idol!bf!wonbin x nonidol fem!reader
warnings: complete fluff, wonbin as a whipped af bf, supportive reader gf, pet names (angel, baby, princess)
wc : 763
seeing your boyfriend of 3 and a half years get to the top of album charts internationally and in korea, it made you proud. at most times you felt like a proud mom watching her son grow into his dream, and wonbin always knew he had an amazing supportive girlfriend waiting for him at home after his long schedules. at first, the difference between schedules was a small problem when wonbin first debuted. RIIZE was busy everyday, music show after music show. and when they weren’t recording pre-recordings for music bank or inkigayo, they were recording songs. comeback after comeback, wonbin was tired! his favorite part of the day was being able to come home to his affectionate girlfriend, and listen to her day as he slowly falls asleep in her arms.
“baby i have to go now,” wonbin said with a small frown as he looked down at you, clinging onto the standing boys torso as you sat in bed, just woke up. “its so early, i dont want you to go yet” you said, mumbling the words into his shirt as you heard his chuckle at your actions. “i’ll be home soon tonight, we have a fancall and thats it okay? ill be back soon” he told you, gently brushing his fingers through your bed hair, looking up at him and nodding. he bent down to give you a last kiss for that morning before he left, leaving you home alone.
but you were planning something for wonbin, he told you multiple times before that he enjoyed talking to fans and interacting with them through calls, but he got very socially drained easily. and what was the cure to that? you. yes, you spent $650 on albums for your boyfriend to cheer him up while he did his job, and thankfully you got in! you used a different name, your english(or second) name that your parents gave you, the name wonbin definitely wouldn’t be able to tell its you.
POV CHANGE ; yns pov
i got out of bed, looking at the time and remembering my time slot, i had until 3:50 pm. it was currently 11:00 am, i had all the time in the world right now! i sat on the couch going through netflix, finding a show. i finished a few episodes and looked at the time, oh okay its just 3:00.. wait its 3:00 already?! oh my god i have to get ready for the fancall! i jumped off of the couch and ran to my room, changing only my top since wonbin wouldn’t be able to see my pants, then into the bathroom to get ready, i finished my makeup and looked at the time. perfect! 3:35, ill set up the phone and get ready for the call. i sat at my desk in me and wonbins shared room, my phone set up with my mirror lights on, a stand up background behind me with decorations and pictures of wonbin, feeling slightly cringed but excited to see his reaction. i checked the time again, 3:48, i should be getting the call anytime so-
*ring ring ring, ring ring ring*
the phone is ringing! okay, take a deep breath.. wait why am i so nervous? hes my boyfriend..
POV CHANGE BACK authors pov
you answer the video call, the staff holding up a piece of paper with the questions, “can you hear me when i say this?” she says hello and you nod, not wanting to use your voice yet in case wonbin was already listening. the staff held up an OK! 👌 hand and said “please wait”, soon enough you saw the phone being set up to a distracted wonbin, looking down at the album.
“hello? earth to wonbin?” you said with a big smile on your face, watching him snap his head up with a huge smile painted on his face as soon as he recognized your voice. “princess, what are you doing here? why would you buy my fancall?” he asked excitingly, before he got cut off by a younger members peeking his head into the camera. “hiiiii ynie!!” an excited sohee said, you waving to him as he got pushed and shooed away by wonbin. “i wanted to surprise you, i know you said your calls get tiring so i wanted to give you some energy,” you said smiling, then pointing to the background. “do you like it? i made it myself!” you said proudly, watching wonbins huge grin on his grow bigger.
“i love it, thank you angel, youll always be my number supporter hm?”
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cipheramnesia · 6 months
Text
Vivisection
I sloughed the shell in a flourish of our shared sweat, blood, and mucus. Cold on the steel-grated floor lift, tech eyes wide over me as my psyche twitched itself back together from the needles. My eyes said you must be new but my mouth spoke in thick puked up fluid whilst my sopping slick shuddering fingers clawed nerve pads off my tits and slid catheter from my dick. All of us nerves had little twitches of pleasure as we found ourselves whole, and made it to sitting.
"Towel," I found language, and the tech handed it, eyes carefully elsewhere at the pink and red cockpit still quivering in urgency, wet with quenched desires. Methodically cleaned under the wet warm terrycloth ministrations, top to standing, adjusting to eyes and ears 'side skin and taste. The hangar was all echoes of more experienced crew on the teardown fifty feet up and down the shell, didn't need the look I turned anyway at my love, the crab. Rested claws in bands of carbon, four squat legs and rolling condensation off the quieting spiracles. Charred, twisting armor coated over with clotted brown patch like scabs and fading blue drips of other less evils' blood, sparkling at places from shattered refractive layers, spongy intrasteel glistening through here and there. Below it discharged glutinous tar from the trap, all spent oil and shock fluid plus shells and fused filters, burned heat hexes all and all bound for the reprocess, someone else's hand-me-down armor or shoes.
The wasp staggered past us to its own home sweet safety net so I hung the rail in a gentlemanly way and bade our tech meet my goddess in crime at her door. "They have their own lift," the tech observed. My goosebumps agreed, emphasizing the questionable temperature, but a lady must pay her respects. "I don't care," I suggested so we went.
Parked up under those gangly legs adripped with the glow and silver of thirty confirmed kills and gored holes through musculoskeletal tubing told the tale, I held my arms in chivalry as the mandibles underside the shell parted ways and dripped Ari into my embrace along side her own deluge of girl-juice and veined amniogel shreds. Knees buckled as my stomach protested my lack aforethought, but no one could dispute the benefits of a girl pressed against my breasts, slinging her long arms around me. She barfed over my shoulders, warm and phlegmy.
Ari'd pulled her cords in the shell like a good girl, still shook gainst my skin as she stuttered, "fuh- fuh- fuh-" while I jerked my head at the tech who shrugged. Outta towels, well my bad. Leaned us on the railing and thought about tonight, you know the human body's pretty heavy all said? "Your... skin is... freezing!" she articulated, not a request mere observation, but my arms acquiesced nevertheless. We leaned on each other watching black muck drain from the wasp's thorax, standing around naked in a pool of shell vomit. "Yer dumb," she added, hocking up more phlegm. "Now're both shlimy." The other shells crawled in with the tide, blasted with sterilizing powder and steam, various scorpions and mosquitos and spiders seeking succor as we finally made our way down the textured rubber steps.
"Fuckin so hungry," Ari slurred, dribbling blood and saliva while my own stomach answered midst shouts of our squad as they were reborn, crawling free and bloodied from the shell, some still babbled nonsense, tried to move limbs no longer bodied and no shame to them. "You threw up so much, 'spected," I said. Watched Spinning Jenny shaking mucus off his head, snapping teeth together.
"Gonna eat three horses," Ari added. "Fuck potatoes, my dick can fuck a pile of potatoes I'm starving." She shook my shoulder, my legs wobbled in tune, "Clingy bitch." But her hand stayed, fingers digging the tense muscles in my back, mine squeezed her hips. "Casey I want you to hold me down and force feed a gallon of cheese into me." Managed to cross the whole hangar naked, didn't eat shit. Techs hooted appreciating and I tried to bow but just did a cockeyed vanity wave. Brain twitched but kept my cool, remembered I don't see in sonar. "Maybe later tonight," I murmured sotto voce. I cleaned the fresh blood from my ears with a pinky finger.
Lockers, showers, Ari always liked when I soaped and dried her, little bit of a tease, ease of limbs back into bodily limits. She was wiping gunk from her eyes, still going, "I fuck shit swear I'm getting mission reruns in my sleep now. Bullshit we don't hang on to PDN memories, I've deffo had the same shit we throw at the elves in my head at night."
"They're not elves," I said.
"Whatever, magical monster tree bugs, I dunno, are you getting shell feedback?" I was toweling her thick curls, my own short hair dried sweet quick. Threw on those almost paper scrubs. Sexy. "Babe, we all got feedback, I'm not even sure how much me is in my mind."
She grabbed my hair and gave my head a little shake, "Lucky you, I'll fuck your brains out anyway," and blew my hair out my eyes. I grabbed her hand and pushed back, she swooned, we crushed hard as team shelled and molted, in bed or in field. Just a way to anchor, comes with the piloting, nothing new. Lots of pilots fall in twos and fours of strange bedfellow - gets you back in mind after so long parted. "Shut the fuck up," she said to my smile, shoved back, I reeled her in and smiled more til she punched my shoulder. "Fuck you, feed me." We joined the aching crowd clustering to the mess hall.
Slammed our piled trays on a table, minutes later. Scatter Hawk had beat us there somehow, last in the bay, first to the hay per usual. Jelly was still in their hair and they were tearing into a pile of beef flavored protein patties they'd slathered with garlic chili sauce and pickled carrot chips. Shoved it in their blood-smeared face with mixed results twohanding a fork, missed the target 30% of the time. "Glad you're a better shot with the 40," I suggested and they replied, "Slip your own dick sideways fish brisket," spittle and snot sprayed with each word, language not quite in the altogether I guess. I slapped some nerves back into their shoulder and they grunted wetly and appreciatively.
Ari pushed me onto the bench and dropped down, catted up against me and chugged hot sauce from the tube, followed by a fistful of fake bacon and chips dripping with jalapeños. "Thid fit gess weeper effy dah" she spat out with a mouthful of half chewed food, elbowing my ribs in the process, so I slipped my hand over her thigh and gave her a reassuring stim. I was busy with whatever passed for kimchi and pork flavored protein while the table started filling up with other pilots eating an entire day's worth of food in one sitting, trying to feel and speak and touch and taste all at once with mixed successes, all of us trying to pick our nerves up from the sludge being in the shell made out of our bodies. DeeDee shoved a fork at us and said, "Fuck were you, suckin dick? Tank's supposed to keep hits off."
"Yeah, take many hits?" I wiped the dribbled of blood off my lip.
"Like ten! Two in a lung!" He jabbed a beef patty for table wobbling emphasis.
Barely audible Ari whispered, "You're alive aren't you?" Head was drooped under her curled hair near to my level, flying below table radar, still about hit direct to a nerve with DeeDee's bloodshot eyes going big and Hellis beside scooting its flat ass away but none of us got further into what manner of dicks weren't or were sucked (my carefully planned speech - about the pincer move we broke while I was still jamming longways thanks and the relationship of DeeDee's dick being vaporized vis a vis our suckage - wasted). Squad command rudely storming our table with the demand: "Death Claw! Kill Strike!"
Silence resumed in sudden shock as he stood authority thrust chinward, all our eyes tracking the table. He repeated the command, "Death Claw! Kill Strike!" Silence abounded, roamed the plains, handed him a look of weary resignation as his lips, with all the distaste of gingerly dropping a dead rat into a toilet, formed, "Kitty Candy and Raccoon Enchantment," he struggled to recover his momentum but the wind was dead, "I need to speak with you both." Tablewide "ooooo" and Spinning Jenny added "someone's in trouuuble," as we took our ways in the talking wake of the baron of bluster.
Followed breadcrumbs of wet bootie prints and bloodsmeared walls back to the old bay so he could scream at us with an echo. "You semen stains mind explaining what the fuck you were doing back in that shitshow?"
Her nose was bleeding heavily again and I could feel Ari's arm spasm as she pushed close behind me, whispering without sound. I had answers mercifully drowned in a wad of spit and phlegm suddenly dumping into my mouth and down my chin.
"Gods you're all fucking sick. Disgusting. Got nothing to show for it?"
I swallowed another gob of something unpleasantly solid which mercifully shot from my lungs into my mouth giving moments for me to think forward. Rare enough, I treasured them. Figured best not mention what was the thing, blowing the drop bolts early cuz she wanted to try and fire the primary on the wasp from directly above a banyan whilst midair, sans stabilizers, which for the record she hit the thing but caught an extra eighth mile sky above the crate.
"Listen," I gurgled, wiped off my face. ("Listen SIR," he interjected, so I waved indulgently.) "Hurgle. My decoms pinged a hostile lake, looked like a stand of banyans an' a anthill so we bailed at drop beta." Ari's fingers drug out blood from under my paper sleeve, fuck ridiculous she's like eight inches taller trying to make my ass into partial cover.
"Drop beta," he repeated the words to emphasize their unwelcome intrusion to his shriveled brain. I realized the part of my memories with this squad commander's name got sliced in the shell. His face was twitching as bad as mine ever has. "There was no drop beta! There was one site, slash and burn, the end!"
"Well lucky you! We set one up before that swampfire cut our lines up, no thanks necessary please, you know we do it for the love of our jobs."
He looked at the melted up muscle and vatsteel carapace curves of my beloved crab and wasp. Some mirror shaved surfaces, bug blood all black where it congealed. "Fuckin trannies, disgusting, undisciplined- Why we hire so many I don't even-"
"C'mon, you know we're your best guys."
"You're literally my worst guys! If I had anyone else fucked in the head enough to shove into those- those fucking meat grinder abominations, I'd dump your freakshow asses so far in the back beyond you'd fart just for the conversation!"
I elbowed Ari in the gut before she said something dumber than I had in mind. "You know the old saying, a tranny in the shell will give em all hell."
His face snapped shut like crab's load-in maw. Gritted teeth rumbled, "Scrape duty for the next two hours." He shoved us out of the way off to ruin someone else's sex lives, his own probably.
Two hours and two trays of congealed processed protein with vinegar and hot peppers, we trudged down the narrow hall to bunk. The ganglia stopped twitching but it'd been a minute last I had this much elf blood under my nails and my hair reeked of burned polyfilament lubricant.
Ari stretched her arms back because the ceiling was too low for up grumbling, "Don't wanna spec nother fuckin face for a whole shift." I shrugged half drop slept and headed my roomways, brought to heel with her hand on my wrist. "The fuck you think you're going, you promised." Her, lips, just as crusted with blood and snot as mine still a cute pout in dire times.
I gauged my cramping stomach up against that hand and those lips. We hadn't been on-mission for a sec, and fuck for the moment I'm only human and very horny. Still. "You said-"
"People, I mean people." She punched the latch and I let her reel me into her narrow cabin, coming attractions you could call it. I said, "Babe, you gotta pick up your underwear - or anything - sometime." Ari grabbed a bottle of the rancid wine someone was making from cooking oil and caramelized vinegar. She put it against my chest, and put us against the stowage wall, and put her tongue into my throat. Her lips were gunpowder nachos, burning hot, both of us careless to chapped cracked open blood. I took a slug of the wine, with its notes of artificial PTSD raspberry flavor, as she pulled the bunk from the wall. I held up the bottle, tipped it to her lips, spilled it into her mouth, on her face, down her bare flesh and cheap scrubs.
Ari yanked it away and tossed it to the refuse under her fully unused sliver of a desk. I grabbed her by the front of her scrubs, they tore, so I grabbed her arm and fumbled us against the edge of the cot, struggling with my pants and paper booties. "Fucking elastic, now it works?" Ari tried to rip the pants off, snapping a yelp and a shock outta me when she snapped the band on my stomach, so I pushed my hand into her pants and grabbed her dick, hip checked her onto her back on the cot, then furiously yanked both our pants off. We smashed tongues and lips again, her guided by my fingers in her hair, me by her nails on my back, furrows through the grime mottling my acne scarred skin. I clambered onto her, a full tangle of legs and elbows with the sweet serenade of the cot, joints protesting weight and unwelcome thrashing. But I had hold of her now, me and my little growls, her softly repeating "please," as I pressed our hips, tits, lips together. Teased and pinched on and around her nipples, scratched the welcome back real world long her ribs, pulled myself to myself with her rhythmic panting breaths. Shudders passing through from her to me, traded in kind as we reminded our bodies and each other of the dwindling human embers in our chests, the dregs of what once was bright and happy in the world still enough between us to reignite into the shape we suffered through bereft of shells. A minute for our hearts to hammer together, to take in the mossy dried blood scent, the reek of sweat and metal, both of us hard and slick against one another.
When she murmured, we gingerly squirmed our legs and arms around and across each other til Ari lay on her stomach, the pathetic, thin excuse of a mattress rolled under her chest and arms. Lube was spread over her ass and my fingers with wasteful urgency. I worked my hands slowly down her back, gently caressing her sync ports with my thumb, watching them contract and gape with her moans. The lips of them tingled and sent pulses of pleasure through my hands from lingering protonerves. Moved downward to her ass and sliped in one finger at a time, stroking inside her folds, touching her walls, three in and rhythmic spreading and relaxing as she sucked in air, so I leaned up close and slipped my tongue into her neckport, the sphincter closed tight and opened wide and I could feel my ports sympatic response, taste her tasting tasting her. She twisted her pillow into knots and I pushed my cock into her as my fingers slipped out, slowly, feeling her tense up and relax.
Slivers of amniogel squished against my cock in her ass, protonerves shot echos of her through me, flaring and then crushed between us. We pressed ourselves closer, trading pulses back and forth, that one flashing minute of her ass against my hips and one hand on her dick, my face in her hair, one hand pressing into jer back ports, letting her suck the lube from my other hand. It was almost the ecstasy of feeling our minds dissolve into one another. Then we moved again. Hours or minutes, I felt her cum trickle over my hands and wiped it on her thigh as I kept going. Mucus spilled from her contracting back sphincters and my own. Fucking the trace of vat grown life to death until we might have a hope of sleep tonight.
It was humid and reeked of sex, everything about Ari barely fit, except for me, so we stole away these moments from each other to remember and forget. It was nothing in the world, but it was better than dying alone. My leg hung off the bed when we had rolled free of one another, too filthy to breathe and too wasted to shower. My elbow and hip hurt from banging against the wall. Her legs were curled up and her left knee jabbed painfully into my thigh, I couldn't find a place to put my right arm and it was falling asleep but the tingle felt better than trying to stand up. Head was jammed into my neck, couldn't be comfortable, I brushed tangles out of her hair. Muffled, she said, "You smell bad."
"You love it. You missed my pit stank, my demure little corpseflower." She made gagging noises into my clavicle. "I'm gonna have to go back to my nice bunk where the floor is clean, can't stay under my wing forever birdie."
"Whatever," I felt her lips mashed against me with each word, and braced for her to shove me off bed, but her arm just squeezed me closer. "Can so stay f'rever," she sounded almost asleep, her head pushed closer to me and she muttered something like "glove mew bits."
Rolled eyes, but pressed a little closer. "Sure, marinate some new strain of bacteria, they can spatula us out the morning." Unprepared by her momentary snuggle, my ass hit the floor in a pile of unwashed tanktops with a sleep slurred "fuck off."
I left my dignity in the laundry and blew a kiss. "You're gonna hate you in the morning if you sleep that way," she made and grumpy noise and wrapped herself around the rolled up mattress, trying and failing to fit on the metal cot. I tripped a little on the way out the door, on my half naked way to a luxury five minute hot shower to a low bid bargain cold sleep.
Dreams told tales from the shell. Techs all swore in the slice nothing transfers. True enough we lost a short term or three but that's the balance to cost against feedback, they said. Dreams were my four legs crushing earth compact from the drop jump as my decoms rolled over the banyans and bugs slinging spells, my nightmost terrors unfolding from the PDN and flooding their foci and fetishes. In the mindscape ground ran fluid under mechanized polyplastic muscle, the world putty with my gargantuan claws. Chaff launched from deep inside my chambered shell to spark the incoming green, a deathly spray to casual sunblock rads, no mind to armored skin.
Myriad wave of banyans moving, windblown, roots crawling, but there she is, my darting wasp hurling her thousand stings, finding targets in my trackers n hackers through the grassfield bugs. Their blood glows blue, all the work of their spells to brittle silver threads that fall to pieces. She lands and I bathe the hill in freaks, veritable fog of messy tracking til her thorax slides open and erects its throbbing, winged main gun, legs planted, struts in, and a hurricane throws banyan trunks to shreds, clears a canyon of death, and she screams, and I see the branches from the earth tearing her apart, I am slow, bogged in sudden mud, green spears her, the angry earth rips her legs from limb, black ichor and green coolant and I wake up screaming as she shouts for me to go. Clutching the metal edge to my cot, seeking my body again, for a moment unable to hear or see, I exist only as pounding blood and raw nerves til each flexed muscle brings me to human.
Some time passes to rise, rollout hours more hence, I spent time to feel my body, put on shorts and t-top and try to forget the dream and Ari's voice screaming for me to leave her.
I tried to sleep the echo away, then folded my cot and dug the glass bottle of beauties. Rattled a couple hatch-down to flatten it out. Nothing doing, no washing or wiping or jerking off removed the unwelcome night haunt, so I made my soft shod way down to mess.
Rigs like these, there's never quiet. Air cycles, night crew, the odd distant clatter we all always hoped wasn't the seconds off warning of full breach. I paused by Ari's door, halfway to clacking it, but moved counterspin towards mess. No sense both of us losing sleep over one misfire of psyche. Half light in the mess, couple plotters and binders poked listless fried protein and I took my separate peace with a cup of the juice. Sick sweet chemflavor kicked caffeine to my heart and guts enough to winnow away the hours trying a dozen different flavors of artificial spice on artificial food, feeling artificially alive.
DeeDee showed in first after rollout, guy was never not angry at me over some shit, angry at something, put a lot of that through the lines good for us. Hellis always hung round, I specced on their afterhours but never pried the privates. Wouldn't have minded a bunk with either, but oh well. Shadow Jumper and Stepper and Jenny and so on filing their way through gallons of sickening juice and overcooked daybreak. Ari was last in, skulking through the rising shine and din of the mess, caught a tangle of her eyes but crowds were parting our ways.
"See how long you last without that filter, you'd hurl minimal," Jenny kept prodding at Scatter Hawk putting away more forkfulls than any two of us, just grunting back, while DeeDee yelled down the table at Stepper over horrendous and audible farts. I couldn't find a minute to catch Ari's eyes, roll em back and forth with mine, she was digging a hole through her tray.
I spent a frustrated week shipping past her nights. Some asshole I learned was apparently in charge of the squad demanding press-ups and running laps spin wise. Got mad when I said we don't use any muscles and I had to do extra sit-ups, and I threw up and didn't see Ari in the lockers. Tear down on the crab, coming and she was on her grease stained way showers, grimacing. Asleep when I catted around her doors at the odd hours. Anxiety in my spare space left my skin crawling. Ran into her at the psyche cracker and said hey, how you doin? Ari said, "Fine," with those tangled up eyes.
"You okay? I do something you wanna talk?" Whatever was left inside my skull felt like it wanted me to vomit it through my ports. My intestines wanted my skin rippled.
She shook her head. "It's not. You're good, you're good, I just." She shook her head again, tugged the hem of her shirt. Bless I was horny as fuck but just wanted to untangle her eyes, please.
"Listen, I got-"
"Casey!" The skull breaker slid its door up. Check-in time, its glassed eyes and masked mouth glittered, jovial work for a septic system.
"Ari, one second doc. Hey."
Backing down the hall, miming apologies. "I'll see you around Case."
I got a good grade from the psyche. "Very little degradation today," it exclaimed. "Your connectivity must have been quite well balanced! If you maintain this synchronization, we can expect to keep memory and autonomic function nearly optimal. Please ensure you take your supplements to maintain neural plasticity, excellent work!"
It always ignored my questions so I didn't ask anymore but one time I looked up "autonomic" and I was not very excited about the implications. Clacked Ari's door on the way back roomwards, to no result. Shut my door hard, rattled more beauties down my gullet and lay on the floor, tossed aside my psyche chart with all its healthy green and admonishing yellow. Degradation did not feel minimal, I was fragile with worry and my body wanted to fly apart, uncontained by the shell and trembling with skin crawling fear. Nothing flattened, the spin felt too fast, and I wiped confused wetness off my face. I clenched fists to my sides and shook uncontrollably. When would the drop would come?
Rolled out and rounded up came down soon enough against my liking. Marched our asses cross to the bay and posted us up. The squad leader looked uniquely miserable for each syllable of "Kitten Candy! Raccoon Enchantment!" He might actually kill me if he figures out how I changed our call signs.
Ari lurked behind me, sleep deprivation coming off her in radiant heat. I'd woke on the aching floor to rollout chimes, back still sharp from the sleep I should've skipped. She'd been doing teardown some long hours fore we got the callout. "Since you two reliably fuck up anything more complicated than bright colors and shapes, you're doing drop targeting. Three sites, think you can handle it?"
"Probably not, SIR!" I said, and he was not amused, Ari flopped hands affirmatively over the task a drone could do.
"Get synced up because that's the mission. Fuck off, the adult pilots are talking."
Could've argued, didn't, not with the halides in my skull and Ari walking away for the wasp. "Hey! Hey." Caught up around and walked with her. "Lotta radio silence, you good? I mean, girl, you look like shit, but you good?" We reached the lift. My hand was more tentative on her shoulder than my first time trying on a bra. "Are, like, are we? You know, did I say something?"
"Shit, you're fuckin impossible," Ari pulled a smile from an awful place. "Never said nothing except all I wished-" She started climbing. "Ah, fuck off, you know you're good. So good I want... like, fuck. I'm good. Had feedback something fierce this week. Hcch." I walked behind her, hand at her back and lifted, she grabbed my wrist. "C'mon, bitch, gimme a boost up."
The tech up top had the wasp open, long tongue dangling, pink, dripping ready to enfold. The mandibles were an umbrella over us, the whole cockpit slung between a sensaray and fire platform up front and the main gun taking up most of the thorax, flightless wings for short jumps and bristled with beams and missiles webbed into veins and live nerves. Ari stripped off her clothes and I helped her with the mass of thick tubes dangling from the soft flesh of the wasp's underbelly. Gentle with the catheter while she gripped my shoulder, taping the skin contacts on, then slipping the fat red sync cables and their gently writhing filaments into the sphincter along her neck and spine.
"Hey." I looked up from making stirrup hands and Ari's fingers lifted me from kneeling. "You be here when we come back, kay? I don't wanna open this cage if I don't see your ugly mug waiting."
"You fuckin wish," I said. "Believe, I'll be here, I got nothing better to do."
She had that smile, eyes almost past her tangle. "Yeah, what the fuck do I care, you're just, like. Well fuck you, anyway, you better be here, no excuses."
I put my hands together and knelt. "No excuses, bitch." She stepped into me and I hoisted her up until the closing mandibles caught her and pulled her the rest of the way in. The wasp began to breathe, the metal and polymer exoskeleton tightening as it straightened. The multiplicably enfolded legs flexed all their joints. I made my way from Ari's lift to my own, perspective and spin distorted neath my crab all encompassing the view and my world. The stairway to its cockpit was considerably longer, but no aid was needed. Sixfold mandibles waited for me, tubes lay cross the steel grate for my own administration. That same tech still couldn't look as I stripped and strapped. Didn't need help with my ports, just held crab's feelers up and they squirmed their way to the intimate fibers of my spinal cord. I sighed and my ports contracted to pull the connections deeper to the nerve.
The tech muttered, "I can't cope with the freaky shit," stepped off lively. Probably thought I couldn't hear as I wound myself into the folds of the crab's intimacy, and was encased in the dark. The peristaltic folds squeezed and swallowed me into the wet warm depths in the heavy polycombine plate armor of our turret. Impact gel, amniogel, blood and mucus flowed over my feet and hands, the added nerves and plasm more deeply fusing us. I felt my vision shriveling through a tunnel, my gritty eyes black in my skull, each muscle of my limbs unfurled from bones to thread themselves into the limbs of a colossus. My spine grew through my skin to blossom across a carapace and turret, flexed my claws and the wide flat armor wings across my back, felt the hangar through its myriad complex electrical systems and programs running in constant state of adjustment. I could smell the synapses of the crew inside the rig, all the redundant added systems, multiple layers of security, still so vulnerable inside this soft underbelly. My web crackled and fluttered along my body. I could kill everyone around me with a thought and leave only my fellow, slumbering shells for company.
I vacuumed air through my body and filters, hundreds of pounds in a breath. Piece by piece I cut my mind free of its cage, each part of it a point in a web of a thousand stars to guide my way. How had I ever let myself believe I could be human? How could I be when I was this, so much more, the parts of my mind I never before realized were incomplete. Destroy me, I urged the crab. Consume the last of my flesh and bones, and let me free once and for all. I slipped my claws out of their bands and tested link with wasp - with Ari. She vibrated enthusiasm, her stimulant chemicals were flooding overtime, and I selected the clam path of her many input and system indexes to aid her, grant her focus to the still before the burn. The dropship waited and we obliged, neither of us patient for departure and planet fall, once again to taste the alien atmosphere and feel true gravity pull at our tissue and joints.
Countdown for slow minutes, and we jammed to our sync. I felt at peace, each part of my psyche sliced from itself, and we lay distributed across our body, through small cortexes fired with the parts of my consciousness. We ticked through systems and my subconscious night terrors spooled into projectors while my self sense expanded to the decom in preparation for target tracking. Ari and I could feel one another as we synced, her slender body and long legs torquing their secondary legs into alignment. Her deepest horrors became a narrow band of foci, accompaniment to each one of her eight gun placements
We swayed for a minute as the drop slid out through the bay doors til thrusted still in a white noise of rocket and atmosphere. Open doors spilled a flurry of blinding light and boiling air. We cut the cord and took flight. Fission cycled to jets and Ari soard around my less graceful lander module decel, both flirtatious and efficient. Earthshaking on point, I breathed in the beacon for the first drop target, then pulled myself free of deeply fertile soil, felled the odd red thornbush in the way of our determinedly stealth free journey. Ari was more nimble in her travels, caught us both up fair to the prep kit. My decom swept all sides of the range for crevices of organized blue, and looked through my wavspec for tattletale knurled arms and segmented torso trunks.
"Whistle clean," I thrummed to Ari and she slipped up through to the prep barely shifting a twig. My hearts beat in time to her showy work then my pace crushed the evidence in passing. Exultation flooded my glands and fluttered my filtration, we set to the lungs of the future. My claws could lift and move enough whilst Ari's more dexterous complex digits hooked in power, nutrient starter, bacteria loads. All color coded and writ large enough couple pilots couldn't fuck it up, track records notwithstanding. Few hundred and we'd be able to turn the toxic swamp of atmosphere to nearly breathable. Plenty for firsts, let them deal with the messy genes for the twenty-threes to come later. Not us, not our yards and acres of lungs filtered enough to breathe near vacuum. Minutes confirmed the bactomix was good, and we beamed our confirmation.
"Nice and tidy," Ari observed the dirt churned circle round the target. I tasted the ground, messy but starter ready.
"Good enough. It'll be dust in a year anyway. Grab a ride?" We're supposed to march it point to point, no riders no passengers, but it's slow n tedious. She grappled to my exo instead. Put a safe-ish distance from the drop target, hunkered. Earth churned to mud and boiled around my feet as we sank down, I wrenched all I could from dirt rocks clay, sprayed hot waste out my vents, and we exploded into the air on jets carved from living thorns and earth, second drop in record time. Nothing rumbled I could spec but still. "Tastes sour," I trembled contact to contact. Ari slithered down and crouched near my shoulder.
Moments she said, "It's stilled air, might be some action crosswinds." Her wings flexed a bit and we looked for the petrichor druid chemsign. At range I could pick out just the echo of their craft, the sizzle of their spells registered a bare zero zero DV scale. "Specced it, action's noways near," I thrummed between us. "Sus, though, we're ahead of schedule, let's walk it." She affirmed, and we moved like glass, opened the target pack and specced every step.
Thorns still, sharp rocks earth clay uphill still, air still, but the maddening aquamarine fuzz of rain cluttered my sights. Ari flexed her wings on her thorax again, rocket platforms twitched nervously. "There's too much fizzing," she hissed, picking up my discomfort. Gauss guns on her sensary pointed hither and yon. "Fuck it," I thrummed, "Bact's good, bail." She mounted me from behind and we dug in the dirt, boiled and processed and locked. Branches burst up from earthbound as every spec greenlined on me, and I screamed in sickeningly fractured agony.
I could feel my exo cracking where the branches of an Atlas banyan crushed around three of my legs, pain and fluids pouring out of my body. Had to be a twin trunk, at least. Even my spiracles bled. Jagged shapes stung my left claw and numbed one of my injured legs. I could hear Ari's screeching and felt her weight shift from me to the ground. My specs were greened out in swampfire, I could taste the ozone and my own charred exo, but I was blind.
"I can't scope!" Ari's panic crackled and echoed through my body, fuled the rush of toxic stims and lit up my heat sinks bright from overclock. "I'm on it, I've got guidance," I lied, throwing a narcofilter into com. I dialed in broad spec and fired a wave of chaff, unspooled PDN for mass nightmare. Swapped high-speed into UV infra sonic organize scope range til I could line out the elves. Ari's screeches spiraled in time to hits I felt in my neuron clusters, dirt and rocks rattled from being skywards. Contermanded a second hit of stims in my system, cooled collect.
Instant recovery between the chaff and PDN. The stinging cold geometry faded its intensity on my exo. I experienced the reward of disrupted Atlas' soundscreams enduring the mortifying ordeal of being scoped. Shortburst the dial range to Ari. Caught backflow of her relief. Found the seconds we needed to move.
The Atlases were over halfway out of the soil, still partly wrapped their heavy branches over Ari and me. Quad trunks, fuck. Druid support, double fuck. The fully exposed organizing casters ways off, spec a kilo or two, but their alien decoms were holding up to the PDN. I pulled back to Ari and my pain receptors shut off the instant my legs twisted and shed broken exo like ice, steel grinding itself each movement. I checked her stat. Half a leg and one wing had been torn off. Her body was coated with slick black and green fluid, mixed with white foam. Her secondary leg was intact and functional, but I could see six bad hits from those light spears.
I cut loose a second wave of chaff, narrowed for the type-beta shieldworks from the druids, scattered an arch of green spears - I put my wings and claws out front to do their job just in time to take the secondary hit of jagged blue geometry. My back legs twisted excessively past their limit. The tri-polyplate claws held, mostly, some smoldering layers blasted free and others melted. I tight focused neural disruptors at the Atlases, cut more chaff, joyed at their screams of fear and agony. "Ari, my target." She swayed but unfolded her stabilizer struts, hit one of them with three rockets, a particle shot, and a full sec from the gauss, frosted it's decom and tore up the left half of its body. Glistening dark blue blood exploded across the other two and it laid out, alive but no threat. Heat fins spread wide open white hot underside her wings, her legs. "Casey your fuckin legs they-"
I flickered low beams at the druids, didn't connect but gave em a minute to think, redirected a broad neural disrupt at our six, more encouraging screeches, I filled the crab with the worst of my mind to saturate multiple kilometers in the PDN of my own fears and nightmares. "Ari, not now, cover."
Even on a wing and half a leg she was a beautiful flower of agony, spread of rockets, heavy beams, blistered depslugs streaking from her to seek the druids proved weakest by their alchemical conversion to bright blue explosions of blood and bone. Steamed heavy off her sink. The second Atlas was fighting up through my disrupt. I hit it with a PDN flare mix, and didn't catch the green blue spellwork shield crackling twixt its bark til I had to duke it.
The Altas caught a claw with one limb, put two more into my main body, right center, and I was overwhelmed by the vomit stench of my tissue and exo and endo rupturing, polymuscles shredded, but I boiled my feet in deep with stage one for jump, and got my other claw on its middle trunk. My com was choking garbled but I said, "Ari-" before I felt the left rear third joint sheer and snap.
She was to me before I could waver with her forelegs' high beam up to max in its face. Light hotter than stars burst the banyan into three flaming pieces, sheer through the trunk, bloodless, charred beyond recognition in a second. She buzzed me. "We can't stay." The last of the Atlases was pulling a highdef organized multiplier out of the earth. Looked like pine tree trunk but carried in a single limb. I specced another Atlas closing. One good HDOM shot would dust my armor. One bad shot would vaporize Ari. "You're right."
I tried to spool up, but the PDN was dead, so I blasted chaff along the ground in front of the Atlas. Give it some hot shrapnel to work through, dialed the rest for max dispersal, and cut three quarters skyward. "Grab a lift," I snarled and she was on me. "And set your main."
The earth churned and my legs threatened to give, but held. "Case. I tried that last week, rec? I couldn't hit shit."
"Yeah. You tried it. We didn't." I hit the jump, we caught sky.
Ari's limbs folded around my body, and her remaining claws clamped, support struts pierced my exo secondary limbs unfolded to add more stability. She shifted the main rifle forward from inside her thorax and opened the remaining wing, heat vents fully extended, coolant spraying out of her wounds as it pumped triple time through her sinks. Her thorax flexed heavy with breath and the gun's wiring and nerve rigs flushed the scent of her excited musk around us. I wrapped my three remaining legs up over my body and clung to her, spun us with my wings on our axis. We had a beautiful aerial view of the remains of our own ambush, our legs fallen close like hands of dying lovers.
The main gun of the wasp would not be possible to see if we had human eyes. A three stage system requiring the finest care with aiming and multiple stabilizers to the firing platform ensuring a clean hit, combined with full heat dispersal for blowback. It would break up shield and decoms, disruptors and polyplate, followed instantly by a particle beam depslug mixture.
I wrapped my claws over her cockpit segment and she fired. The slug obliterated the Atlas, its multiplier detonating and spraying organized green spears haphazardly with blue geometry. The drop target went up and threw a cloud of concentrated bacto over what looked like eight kilometers. I saw the beam digging a canyon through the earth moments before the bacteria and debris blacked the site.
We were thrown, I lost a second leg and both wings. Deaf to coms. My chaff clattered off us, shredded our armor. The full thorax and both of Ari's rear legs were torn away by recoil and a furnace blast of overheating power couplings as I held fiercely, even when my left claw was cleanly severed by the last flash of the beam and my main body punctured and boiled by her shrapnel. I realized I wasn't deaf, I simply was unable to hear anything except Ari screaming and lost valuable seconds - nothing to see but sky and only rushing air over our spinning bodies.
I jetted waste from my secondary vents, they spat angrily but caught air. Risked it, held Ari with my only two legs and put my claw between us and the freight train rush up on drop target three. I hoped enough was left of her to hear me shout, "Impact Impact Impact!"
The ground was very wide and very fast and black. It was-
Nothing. Black.
Casey. Casey. You need to get up.
"Casey," Ari's hiss was a near inaudible comm. "Casey please... I can't move my legs."
I specced, half blind, dialed it through. There was a flicker of distant green. Move. I felt joints and plastic muscle, raw tissue and white foam dig the earth, I moved in a little circle. The drop ship was waiting - no pilot, just auto for a grunt mission in and out.
"I'm up," I lied to Ari. She hissed, "I know you aren't." I specced myself. One leg could move, claw somehow intact, thank you polyplate. Other legs just partial joints, trailed their hydraulics and burned nerves. Quarter chopped off the rear platform. "Am so," I thrummed and put my claw in the ground, levered. Slid my partial legs underneath and my one good one up. "I'm up." I started pushing myself along the earth.
Felt like dragging the big protein drums on kitchen duty, couldn't lift much as rock myself back and forward one side at a time. I found what was left of Ari.
"How's it look," she hissed. One of her two remaining legs was shattered in half a dozen places, congealed foam doing nothing for the fluid leaks. Her other leg might last. Sensary might even be salvageable. There were holes gaping in her deformed cockpit, gel and blood oozing through cracks. "Looks great," I thrummed. "You lost so much weight."
Her laugh wheezed. "You got one good leg Ari, I need you to hitch a ride." She fumbled in the mud and found the tattered edge of my exo, dragged herself half onto what was left of my main body, and I pushed. Her voice was distant now, "Hey Case, remember that night fight, we jumped a bunch of elves with a flashblind."
Just a few meters. "Yeah, pretty funny. Guess they remembered us." She wheezed again, her comm was rattling. "And that time we used ice for heat sig?" My claw hit metal. I strained on the loading ramp without traction. "That was pretty good too, yeah." Fuck it. I grabbed one of the less important control struts and heaved, pulled. Felt my innards and Ari slither along metal, almost home. One more pull. "Hey Casey, hey. Remember when the fuckin elves ambushed us with our same dumb ideas and you thought I should shoot em on the jump."
I punched the recall code, the hatch cranked shut, dumped the tangled mess of our bodies into the drop bay. Acceleration crushed us. "Yeah Ari, that wasn't the best idea ever." The rig loomed up. "Right Ari? I'm an idiot." The comm was quiet.
We were in the bay and I was in a pool of sludge. I could feel my legs and arms and bruises and my own real blood on my face. I could walk and and almost stand, crawling clambering falling down the lift stairs before the tech could say anything. He slipped after me, clutched railing and tried to keep his footing in the mucus as I went sidewinding to our sad and shattered shells, tech prying open the jaws of Ari's with hydraulic levers.
I shoved through as the seal cracked, reek of poisoned atmos and stagnant amniogel, the snap of bone and it fell open, pouring Ari onto the hanger floor, washed up against me. I was on my knees, she was in my arms. Bone showed through one of her broken legs and a bloody hole in her ribs frothed blood. Her bottom lip split so bad I could see her shattered teeth sticking through it. Blood from her ears, nose, eyes, whole body a contour map of bruises.
Ari's one good eye cracked and she gurgled wet and rough, "You look like shit, Case." She spit blood.
"Told you. No excuses bitch."
"Fuck. No exchs." Nitrile gloved hands pulled us apart, and meds were shoving tubes into her, slapping dermals on her. They had a stretcher. Someone shone a light in my eye, I felt the cold slap of a dermal on my shoulder blade. "No excuses," I slurred as loud as I could. He said, "You shouldn't be standing up." I didn't know if Ari could hear. "I'm gonna be waiting!" They hit me with another dermal and goodnight.
It was like that for awhile, before I could go back to my bunk. Lot of debrief, I got a commendation, which mostly meant some extra cash in my account if I lived to spend it. Some looks. DeeDee came by and said "Mad respect." Scatter stopped in with some nearly not paint thinner whiskey. Squad leader came in and chewed me out. Then some days in my smaller, worse bed. I lay on my clothes and punched back painkillers and beauties, then got out of my space and flipped the latch on Ari's room to get into hers.
It looked the same. Laundry unlaundered, whiffs of fermented sweat and sex, crumpled up wrappers for hot sauce, thermalprint hentai, congealed shampoo and soap blocks. I held a tanktop to my face and inhaled, poked around her trash listlessly til I saw a scrap of print. Her last psyche, pages of red and yellow, warnings cautions, parts of it printed red on black. I banged out of her room with it clenched in my hot fist, storming along the counter spin corridors to Ring 2.
Medical. Deep breath. I pushed the door in and gave Ari the biggest smile I could muster and she asked, "Oh no. What's wrong," from where she was still ensconced in tubes to keep her lungs working while the biogels slowly closed her skin over. "What do you mean, what's wrong," I forgot to separte teeth for talking. Maybe a couple weeks before she was walking wounded. "You got a smile like you dropped a battery pack on your foot."
She looked better with her lips stitched back together. Her new front teeth were steel. I blinked and shook and pursed my lips so I wouldn't snarl when I unfolded the psyche chart she'd left balled up under her desk. Needles prickled along my feverish forehead. Tried to find words as she shifted her eyes away from mine and just said, "Oh. That."
I dropped it on her stomach. "Why? You could've- It... Why?" I've been called poetic in my time.
Ari started to bite her lip then stopped. Rubbed her eyes with her palms. "Ow. Everything hurts - Casey, what are you gonna do when you get outta here?"
"Because you can- Huh?" I blinked several more times rapidly. "Uh, I dunno. Little place with some twenty-threes? Maybe a dog? Nothing too special, just wanted a shot at like... living yeah?"
"But you think about it and... y'know, you see something?"
"Yeah, I guess, I mean a little. Who knows?"
She shut her eyes. "Well I didn't see anything." Squeezed her eyes. "I didn't think I'd- Case, I didn't come here for a shot at living. I... didn't see that. That idea." Tears slipped out of her eyes and she grimaced, shoved her hands against them. "I never planned to live that long," her breath hitched.
I didn't know what to do with my hands, whether to move over to her, or what. I nodded to her closed eyes, felt stupid. "Ari, I'd, uh, like it if you did."
She let out a long breath and opened damp eyes. "That's what, I mean, I met you. It's been good, and like. I realized I had started thinking about it."
"Thinking about it?"
"About being alive. Somewhere there, I mean, like, I thought about that I might want a future if it had you in it. And I guess I freaked about the idea it might not happen, and I wanted to keep you somewhere safe where I wasn't going to mess that up."
I folded my arms. "Ari, I fucking swear." She looked back at me. "I don't care how much it hurts, move the fuck over right now, I'm gonna hug you so bad you break another four ribs."
She slid a bit, and I managed to half lay in the bed around the IV tubes. I managed not to break her ribs. Big, stupid and hot tears dripped down my cheeks and nose as I squeezed, then grabbed her hands in mine. "Every day you wake up. I'll give you that future. You might not see yourself and that's okay because you'll see me, and I hope that's enough."
"I kinda kinda love you bitch," I clutched her tight. She kissed me, stitches rough against my lips, and smiled as she did. "You can stay," she said.
"I'll stay." And I did.
195 notes · View notes
coldfanbou · 2 years
Text
Masterlist
Series List Two Parters Kinktober 2023
ONESHOTS
AESPA
Recording Session (KARINA AND YUNJIN OF LESSERAFIM)
Internship (WINTER)
Afterparty (Giselle)
AOA
Take Advantage (SEOLHYUN)
BLACKPINK
Succubus Sauna (JENNIE)
Getaway Trip (JENNIE)
Proof (LISA)
GFRIEND/VIVIZ
The Donor (SOWON)
Eunha Love Love Loves You (EUNHA)
Date Night (EUNHA)
Writing Aid (EUNHA Ft. CHAEWON of Le Sserafim)
Trainer’s Delight (UMJI)
The Goddess' Challenge (UMJI)
Leader's Punishment (SOWON AND SINB)
Reward Service (YERIN)
Consummating the Marriage (EUNHA)
After Work (SINB)
Easy Way Out (EUNHA) GP reader
Relaxation (SOWON)
Merry Christmas (EUNHA)
(G) Idle
Birthday Gift (MINNIE)
ITZY
Squeaky Clean (CHAERYEONG)
Heavenly Time (CHAERYEONG)
Boyfriend Thief (CHAERYEONG)
A Bad Student's Lesson (YUNA)
Lock Up (RYUJIN)
Plaything (YUNA x GP ITZY)
See-through (CHAERYEONG)
IVE
Sour and Sweet (GAEUL and YUJIN)
Confessing (WONYOUNG)
Izone
The Gift of Cucking (MINJU)
KEP1ER
Management Skills (XIAOTING and CHAEHYUN)
KISS OF LIFE
After Shoot Pleasure (NATTY)
Full Body Relaxation (Julie X G!P Members & Mreader)
Le Sserafim
A Different Kind of Workout (SAKURA)
LOONA
Sidestreets (JINSOUL)
MAMAMOO
The Assistant (SOLAR)
RED VELVET
Drained (SEULGI ft JIHEON and SOYEON)
ROCKET PUNCH
Unending Praise (YUNKYOUNG)
STAYC
Personality Switch (ISA)
Competition (SEEUN AND HAYOUNG OF FROMIS9)
TWICE
By Your Side (NAYEON)
Just Desserts (SANA)
Descent (JIHYO)
Family Issues (JIHYO)
First of Many (TZUYU)
Unexpected Guest (MOMO and JIHYO)
Competitive Streak (JEONGYEON)
Nearly Caught (MINA and TZUYU)
Alternative Payment (G!P) (DAHYUN, MOMO, MINA)
Temptations (JEONGYEON)
Interim (JIHYO)
Special Massage (JIHYO)
Daddy's Girl (JIHYO)
Invitation (DAHYUN)
Drunk Night (JIHYO)
Power Trip (MOMO)
Her Frustration F Reader (SANA)
Sugar Babies (NAYEON, MOMO)
Poolside Fun (G!P MINA, CHAEYOUNG)
Overdue (JIHYO)
Mail Order Maid (MOMO)
Night and Day (SANAF reader)
Presents (NAYEON)
Happy Endings (NAYEON)
Ruining The Tiger (CHAEYOUNG)
Learning From The Best (JIHYO AND YUNJIN)
Homemaker (MINA)
Weeekly
Hard Interruption to a Game (MONDAY)
Hyuna
Just A little Crazy
SNSD
A Bet (TIFFANY)
ELRIS/ALICE
Workout Partner (SOHEE)
Breeding Bull (SOHEE)
Multiple Idols
Sexual Education (CHAERYEONG, CHAEYOUNG, EUNHA, MONDAY)
Dream Day (CHAERYEONG, YUNA, EUNBI, JIHYO, SWAN, DAYEON, EUNHA)
Fluff
New Year's Eve (CHUU)
Other Lists
Idol Pictures
Lewd Thoughts
MIna-Saiyat Story
TIAM Interactive Story
TIAM Interactive Story 2
TIAM Interactive Story 3
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cardboardheartss · 2 months
Text
Short PAC : What would BLACKPINK members think of you?
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⚠️DISCLAIMER! TAROT CARDS ARE NOT 100% ACCURATE! TAKE EVERYTHING WITH A GRAIN OF SALT! IF MY INTERPRETATIONS ARE INCORRECT FEEL FREE TO CORRECT ME!⚠️
remember to take a deep breath, and think about which pile you feel most connected to before you pick a pile to read!
Pile 1 : YG Studio
Pile 2 : PINKCHELLA 2019
Pile 3 :Comeback group photo
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Pile 1 : YG Studio
Overall energy : QoW rx, The Hierophant & KoW rx
All the members see you as an introvert and they see you as a person who is really self confident and you’re not easily swayed by other people’s opinions of you!
Lisa : 3oW rx
She sees you as someone who is currently frustrated and disappointed with the delays happening in your life. If she could give you tips, she would want you to plan more carefully, in order to avoid disappointments, you must start off with smaller tasks to also avoid overworking yourself.
Jennie : The Empress
She sees you as very feminine and beautiful! Jennie also thinks you have perfect fashion sense, you know how to perfectly dress for your body type and tones. Sees you as a caring person, who’s always there for a shoulder to cry on!
Rosè : AoP
Rosie sees you as a business oriented person, she sees you becoming very financially abundant down the line. She sees you as someone who radiates positive energy, despite your possible introvertness!
Jisoo : 4oS
Jisoo sees you as an introvert lol! She thinks you live a very moderate lifestyle. She thinks you like to avoid social situations because it possibly drains a lot of your energy at times.
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Pile 2 : PINKCHELLA 2019
Overall energy : KnoP, 10oW & 5oP
All the members see you as someone who is patient and has a stern personality. They think you are dedicated to whatever interests, jobs and even hobbies you have. The members believe you have a traditional approach to life.
Lisa : The Magician
Lisa views you as a very strategic person, you give off “started from the bottom, now we hear” vibes to Lisa. She views you as being really successful, and that you’re also a complete pro at manifesting your life. Lisa truly respects you!👏🏽
Jennie : The Tower rx
Jennie sees you as very careless person? She sees you as the type of person who would stir up some drama and gossip at work/school. She thinks you’re quite selfish, and only care for yourself only. Jennie also thinks you can be quite unpredictable with your approach to things in real life.
Rosè : The Chariot
Rosie sees you as a persistent person, and that you will literally do anything in your power to achieve your goals and no one can even attempt to distract you. She might also see you as someone who doesn’t want to be played with, you may have a short temper and it kinda scares her lol! So she’ll probably avoid triggering you.
Jisoo : PoS rx
Jisoo sees you as a person who’s constantly working, nonstop. She thinks you’re a very curious person, who’s always looking for an answer for everything and anything. Jisoo sees you as a good communicator as well whilst being an ambrivert. She’s also really fascinated by your articulation and she also respects you for that!👏🏽
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Pile 3 : Comeback group photo
Overall energy : 7oP rx, 7oC rx and 6oW rx
All the members see you as being lost. In their eyes you seem to be very scattered. They see that you have various options, but you’re unaware of which on is best for you, if they would give you a tip, they’d want you to pick an option that will sustain your lifestyle for long term. See you as shy as well and you don’t enjoy being the center of attention!
Lisa : PoS rx
Lisa thinks you’re really secretive and don’t like voicing your opinions. She views you as a know it all, but she really doesn’t believe everything you say but her tip from her to you, is for YOU! Pile 3 to stop fearing for no reason, and speak your mind!
Jennie : 10oP + 5oC (hiding behind 10oP)
Jennie thinks you value your family and friends. Despite all the issues with you being lost, if and when you become successful she sees you as someone who is really financially abundant. She also thinks you’re pessimistic, and only talk about your issues and struggles. Jennie thinks you can’t let go of the past AT ALL!!
Rosè : 9oS
Rosie sees you as someone who worries A LOTT! She thinks you’re too harsh on yourself and you constantly downplay your positive traits and accomplishments, while trying to affect yourself more with more harsh words and discouragement to achieve certain things in life.
Jisoo : KoC rx
Jisoo sees you as really emotional, she assumes you may have some mental health issues. Jisoo sees that you repress many of your emotions. She also thinks you have a vindictive personality and are also a bit of an emotional manipulator. If she could give you a tip, she would want you to attend therapy, read more books about mental health and emotions.
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Thank you for reading!📦
Please remember to also like, reblog and follow me as well. It will be deeply appreciated by me!
(21/01/2024)
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biscuitblinkeu · 2 months
Text
I Speak for the Trees [Pt 1]
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Jennie x Fem!reader
Word Count: 5471
Prompt: Jennie never planned to stay with her mother for seven months. She didn't plan on her mother and father divorcing either, and because of that, her relationship with her mother has always been rocky. They move to a new state, and that means a new town, new neighborhood, new school, new life. Her mother believes this will be a fresh start; Jennie believes it’ll be a disaster and hates everything about it, but when she befriends a strange girl everything gets a little brighter.
A/n: I do switch between point of views I believe— In Jennie’s POV reader is referred to as she/her/they, in your own POV it’s always you. But in short it’s because I’m too lazy to fix it. I’ve been writing this for awhile, enjoy! There’s also a second part that’s 3500+ words and unfinished, but I wanted to post this already…and I wanted to give you guys something while I’m finishing up one shots and chapters 😭 #lazyme
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Jennie felt like a poor, unfortunate soul. Under her nose, it’s been decided she would fly out to see her mother. She didn’t know what possessed her father to agree, or what made him hide it from her till the day of her departure. Jennie felt betrayed almost. She felt like a piece of driftwood, trapped in a relentless storm where the sea pushed and pulled her as it liked, regardless of what she wanted. 
Jennie didn’t want to go to New Zealand, and that much was clear with the heated debate she was having with her father. She was never one to protest this adamantly, however, it was called for as it was the summer before her Senior year. 
“But Dad,” she said desperately. “Please, it’s my last year of highschool, I can’t leave when I’ve been at this school since the beginning— what about my friends? My job? My accomplishments? I don’t want to leave so suddenly.”
“That's completely understandable, but there’s something else, I know there is.” 
They stared at each other for a few tense seconds, and Jennie scowled.
“Fine, I’ll tell you,” she quipped. “It’s because I don’t want to leave you alone here. I can’t! Not like mom did! I am not like her — I won’t be like her — and I don’t want to see her! Why now does she want to come back into my life? We were fine. I was fine on my own; and now? Now she wants me back right when I was content,” she huffed, tone on the verge of a growl. Tears swam in her eyes and her nose twitched. “I hate her—”
“Jennie! You will not go there.” Her father interrupted sternly, a deep frown on his face. Jennie flinched, gaze snapping to the floor. How her father still held her mother in the light made her distressed. She’d ask him ‘why’ and he would say ‘it’s love.’
Although his warning made her want to surrender, to give in and welcome the despair, Jennie still had some fight left in her. She lifted her chin and met his gaze, defiance shining in her eyes. A fire of resentment burning in her chest. “But you know what she did to us. I have every reason to loathe her.”
Us. 
Her father let out a drained sigh, running his hands down his face. He looked her straight in the eyes, and Jennie knew she was taxing him with this arguing, and she knew she could be in the wrong. But she didn’t want to accept that when it felt like she was right her whole life. She wanted it to stay that way. 
“Jennie, you don’t have to fight all my battles. What happened with me and your mother is a thing in the past,” he began, and Jennie felt hurt. “I have forgiven her and…”
“You forget.” Jennie snapped, unable to help herself. He ignored her.
“I forgave but I haven’t forgotten. Jennie, I have forgiven. You continue to live in the past, and that is why you light up about this topic. Back then…I regret involving you in so much of my problems, I should’ve shielded you from them. It’s only my fault you feel this way about her.” 
Jennie shook her head no. 
“Yes,” he said. In the past he was so absorbed in his grief he didn’t realize quickly enough that Jennie was beside him, feeding into his emotions, growing resentment for her mother when things were complicated back then. Jennie was stuck to an ‘us’ when it’s really just a ‘him.’ Jennie wasn’t left behind, and she was too young to understand that. Now she’s too old to want to understand.
“Well, I still don’t want to go,” she said stubbornly.
“Look, you’ve never had trouble making friends before, I’m confident you’ll be at the top of your class at any school, and you’ll have no trouble finding a job, so what is it? Besides your…issues with your mother.”
Well that’s just it, Jennie thought sarcastically. She didn’t want to see her mother. But most of all, she didn’t want to leave her father. He would be alone in this big, empty house. They had no pets. The maids only come every other two days and he rarely goes out as it is. 
Jennie looked around the room at the drawn ivory curtains, the small, black sofas, the mahogany desk with papers strewn about, and to the bed, where her father sat elevated. Beside him on the nightstand were pill containers with prescription medicine and drugs. Her father had countless health problems, thankfully none serious, but who would take care of him? He was a workaholic.
What if all the maids got simultaneously sick, and they couldn’t clean or take care of things her father couldn't? What if the chef decided to go tour five-star restaurants to further his own culinary skills and her father starved to death? (Not that he couldn’t cook for himself, but still.) What if he slipped down the steps and hurt himself? Her eyes watered, and she clamped her bottom lip between her teeth to stop it from trembling. 
Her father knew what was going through her head just from the way she was staring at him. “Oh, Jennie…” he murmured, and she ran to his side and threw her arms around him, wailing. 
“Dad,” she cried, voice watery and wavering. “I don’t want to leave youuuuahh.”
“It’ll only be for seven months, dear.” He said, stroking her brown hair.
“Seven months?” She snapped her head up, missing his chin by a few centimeters, tears brimming in her eyes. “That’s— That’s so long; that’s more than half a year!”
He chuckled. “It’ll go by quickly, and you can call me as much as you like. And if you’re really having trouble I’ll tell her to send you back.”
She sniffled, thinking it over. “…You promise?”
“I promise.”
Jennie sat up, rubbing her swollen eyes. “I haven’t packed my bags.” 
“The maids did it for you.”
“I haven’t quit my job yet.”
“Jennie, you work for me: the company.”
Jennie pursed her lips. “I haven’t told my friends. I can’t leave without telling them….face to face, they’ll think I’m dead.”
“You have two friends, and I’m sure they’ll be fine with a video call,” he reassured, raising a knowing brow. “Besides, you have plenty of time to do so.”
“Okay,” she said defeatedly. “When do I leave?”
Ladies and Gentlemen, Korean Air welcomes you to Auckland, New Zealand. The local time is 5:47AM. For your safety and of those around you, please remain seated with your seat belt fastened and keep the aisles clear until we are parked at the gate.
As a result of turbulence, Jennie had to peel her fingers off the arm rests one by one. She was glad her father booked her a seat with privacy because she didn’t need anyone to see her like this. She ignored the finger-shaped dips in the arm rests and looked out the oval-shaped window. The sun was just beginning to rise.
Jennie exited the plane with a yawn just as her phone dinged with a notification from her mother. She’s had her mom’s number all this time but she hasn’t used it to call or answer any of the texts she was sent for years. Jennie opened it reluctantly.
Mom: Jennie, I’m at the East gate, just outside it. I’ll see you soon.
She didn’t have to ask for any directions as her boarding gate was nearby. She walked with her carry-on luggage, a medium-sized suitcase with a minimum amount of clothes and items. She would have to buy more, she couldn’t travel with her whole closet.
Jennie was reaching the E-Gate, and outside the glass door was her mom, waving at her from the curbside and shouting her name as if the sign she was holding up wasn’t enough. Jennie blinked, feeling warmth spread across her face. Must she do that? She couldn’t bring herself to stand there and stare at her mother incredulously, it’d only delay things further, and she was tired. 
Jennie let out a long, depreciating sigh, gripped her suitcase’s handle so tight her knuckles turned white, and walked to her mother. The closer she got, the more butterflies fluttered in her stomach. The kind she’d rather not experience. Her mother was the carbon copy of herself, her father would say. She hated it. Jennie reached her.
“Mother,” Jennie greeted coldly.
Her mom sighed, her smile looking a little dimmer. “Hi, Jennie. I don’t even get a hug? A ‘Hello, I missed you?’” She joked, trying to make light of their situation. It wasn’t working. “You’re not happy to see me?” 
“No, not really.” Jennie answered. “I assume you feel the same?”
Not responding, her mom took Jennie’s bag and put it in the trunk of her car and they got in. Her mom pulled out of the parking space and began to drive. “I know that I’ve been a bad mom…and I’m sorry. I really am. And I know that’s not enough right now, but this summer I’ll try and make the most of it. I’m in the process of moving, so we’ll be going to that house. It’s a fresh start for both of us. You still like the ocean, don’t you? The house is by the ocean—“
“I’m tired.” Jennie interrupted. “Can we please talk later?”
Her mom gave a nod. “Yes, get some rest.” Jennie closed her eyes. 
When she opened them, a few hours had passed and it was brighter outside. She raised her hand in an attempt to block the sun. They were driving slowly down a street lined with houses. It was a pretty lively neighborhood, with lots of people and animals. There was a slight salty smell to the air from the ocean.
The car began to slow as it turned down a corner street, and Jennie kept an eye out, trying to guess which house her mom had bought. Her mom had a taste for a clean and modern look, so any house on the street could fit. But some houses had different designs, some more simple than others. Jennie was baffled when her mom passed the house she thought she would have picked and pulled into the driveway next to it. In the end it made sense since there was a moving truck parked on the curb. The house itself was white, a type of smoky brown, and gray, with two floors and a nice garage and porch, but the front yard was hideous. Horrendous. Horrifying. Heart-stopping?
It was extremely overgrown. Wildflowers and weeds sprouted from the tall grass and it grew somewhat over the sidewalk and touched the lower walls of the house. She wouldn't be surprised if there were a few snakes living there. It was an eyesore, really, almost like the previous owners didn’t care at all about the land. The house stuck out like a sore thumb among the mowed lawns on the street. 
They got out of the car, Jennie slower since she was still groggy from waking up. A tall man walked out of the house and waved at her mom. He was the help, Jennie guessed. But when they hugged each other she knew they might be friends or coworkers. “Tom, I want you to meet my daughter. This is Jennie.”
He turned to her, grinning with slightly crooked bottom teeth. “Hello, it’s nice to meet you, I’m Tom. I’ll be helping you and your mom move everything in these next couple days.”
Jennie nodded at him. “It’s nice to meet you too.”
Before her mom and Tom got into conversation, Jennie asked if she could explore the house. Her mom said she should find which room she wants.
Inside, just through the front door, there was a foyer room, and further there was an open space that was most likely going to be the living room. The kitchen was just across that, and it was a pretty big kitchen space, dark marble counters, stainless steel fridge, and other things. There was an entrance to the basement, and a hallway with a bathroom, two rooms, and one closet. She didn’t want a room on the ground floor. 
Jennie made her way upstairs to find which room she would claim. She didn’t need the largest one, but there had to be a medium-sized one. On the right of the top of the stairs there was a larger bedroom. She walked further down the hallway and entered a room on the left, because if she went any further down it would just be a bathroom, and decided she would take it. 
The room’s walls were painted a light gray, and it had two windows, allowing plenty of light to come through. It was sized perfectly and would fit her needs. There was still a twin-sized bed in the corner; hopefully Tom would move it out. Jennie turned in a circle, mentally planning out where she would have her things and how she would design. There was already a closet built in the room, so she wasn’t going to need any large dressers. She would make the room look different from the one at her father’s— fresh start, her mom had said.
Jennie made her way to the windows and pulled open the old curtains, fully expecting to see an overgrown yard with weeds and sticks hidden between the tall blades of grass, but that wasn't what she saw. The backyard was mowed, landscaped, and overall very nice compared to the front yard. But something was off, something was out of place. There was someone in her yard that was definitely not supposed to be there. Jennie pressed her face to the wire screen, scrutinizing the figure.
It was a girl, and she was sitting on a thick branch of the big tree in the middle of her backyard, sipping a juice box and swinging her legs childishly as if she had no care in the world. Eventually, the girl’s leg-swinging pace caused her to lose balance and fall backwards. She fell first on her neck and then flipped onto her back. Jennie winced. 
“That was so mean of you!” The girl yelled.
 She unmistakably said that to the tree.
“What the hell?” Jennie murmured, brows knitted. She watched the girl with something akin to frightful fascination as the girl scolded the tree, her hands moving wildly in the air. She climbed back onto the branch a moment later, and Jennie’s gaze shifted to the juice box lying forgotten in the grass. (Litter.)
Oh. Oh. There was a stranger in her yard.
Jennie promptly ran to the doorframe of her soon-to-be room, leaning forward. “Mom! There’s someone in our yard! Mom!” She waited, rolling her eyes when she didn’t receive an answer. Her mom must still be outside flirting with Tom. Jennie quickly ran back to the window to check if the strange girl was still there, and after confirming she was, ran down the stairs and out the house.
Outside, her mom was being handed a basket by Tom, and as Jennie got closer she saw it was filled with treats of sorts. Jennie stopped short of her mom. “Mom, someone is in our yard sitting on the tree.”
“That’s nice honey. Why don’t you bring these boxes to the kitchen for me?” Her mother answered distractedly and she frowned. She was still making goo-goo eyes at Tom— and probably wasn’t conscious of it. (Yuck.)
“No– ugh. You're not listening to me. I said there's a literal stranger in our yard.” She told her again, then remembering how yelled at the tree like it would verbally respond, she grumbled, “A real weirdo at that.”
Her mom raised a sharp brow. “Yeah? How about you give them some of Tom’s baked treats? Maybe you could make a friend,” she suggested, smiling as she opened Jennie’s palm and putting a small treat-filled baggy in her palm. Jennie stared at it, the silly characters on it smiling at her mockingly. She scoffed and turned on her heel, making her way back upstairs with the goodie bag still in hand. 
She flopped on the twin-bed mattress, coughing when a cloud of dust flew into the air. Jennie rolled onto her back and stared at the ugly, off-white popcorn ceiling. 
She didn’t want to have to make new friends. She never wanted to live here. She never wanted to leave her dad. Yet she didn’t have a choice. 
Jennie closed her eyes and sighed. She laid there for a good ten minutes before she decided she would go back downstairs and find something to do. Anything to keep her mind off the fact that she was thousands of miles away from her family and friends. Downstairs, there were more boxes on the floor now, and Jennie groaned knowing she would have to help unpack. She found herself wandering to the kitchen, where the door to the backyard was. The strange girl was still there, staring past  the top of the fence at something.
Jennie sat on a stool, resting her cheek on her palm. She looked out the window at the girl, sulking. Numerous questions ran laps through her mind: Who was she? Why was she in the backyard? Does she go to her new school? Does she live around here?
“Hey, what are you looking at?” Jennie turned to see Tom was holding a stack of boxes. She could barely see his face. With a huff, he dropped them in the middle of the room before angling his head to the window. “Oh, I see you’ve met the neighbor’s daughter.”
“The neighbor's daughter?”
“Yeah. I think she lives next door. I heard the old owners of this house let her in their yard a lot. I heard their daughter and her were close.”
“You live around here?”
“You could say that,” he answered with a shrug. “Word travels fast in this neighborhood.” (Translation: Everyone is nosey.)
“Oh, okay.” Jennie replied. She doesn’t know if she should worry about seeing him around a lot or not. Tom walked back outside to get another round of boxes. Jennie left through the back door and could hear the strange girl now humming a song. 
“Excuse me!” She yelled as she approached the base of the tree.
The girl continued to sing and hum and swing her legs. “Hey!” She yelled louder.
The girl paused in her movements and sound-making, head lowering. “Oh, hello!”
“Yeah, hi. You can't, like, sit in a tree in your own backyard? Or in someone else’s yard?”
“But I like yours,” she responded.
“What?” Jennie said dumbly.
“You have such a nice tree,” she said. “Don’t you want to come up here?”
No she does not. She is not a monkey, or squirrel, or possum, or any animal that likes trees for that matter. “Who the hell are you?” Jennie demanded, moving her arms uselessly by her sides.
“(Y/n),” the girl responded easily, legs picking up their swinging again. 
“(Y/n),” Jennie repeated densely. “What the hell are you doing?”
You said nothing and began humming a song as you looked above the fence again.
“This is great—just fantastic.” Jennie muttered, shaking her head in disbelief. “You mind getting away from my house, (Y/n)?”
You stopped and finally looked down at her. Jennie was momentarily stunned, she hadn’t expected you’d be so pretty. Even so…
“Your house?” You asked, tilting your head oddly. “You live here?”
Jennie fought, very bravely— might she add— the urge to slap her forehead. Did you not see or hear her come out of the back door? “Of course I d–”
“In a tree?” You asked with wondrous eyes, sounding awed. “Really?”
Jennie backpedaled. “No, what? Just, no, I–”
“I’ve never met someone who lives in a tree. Is it nice? Where do you put your head when you sleep? Do the animals tell you bedtime stories?”
“I don’t live in a tree! I live in that house,” Jennie told her, pointing to her house when she shouldn’t need to. 
“Oh,” You said, seemingly disappointed. (Jennie didn’t care.)
“Yeah. So are you going to be leaving soon?”
“Am I going to be leaving soon?” You repeated like a parrot.
“Yes, are you?”
“Am I?” You asked again.
Jennie sucked in a sharp breath through her teeth. This was going absolutely nowhere. “Why are you just repeating…nevermind. I don’t have time for this. Goodbye.” Jennie said, turning on her heel to walk back inside. 
“Bye! It was nice to meet you!” You shouted after her, grinning. 
What a complete weirdo, Jennie thought, slamming the screen door shut behind her. She walked through the kitchen, intending to go back to her room and entertain herself with her phone, when she noticed her mom at the front door saying goodbyes to Tom. Jennie realized there were a lot more boxes sitting around now. 
The door shut and her mom turned around, eyeing the cluttered floor. “I guess we should start unpacking,” she murmured, hands on her hips. She looked at Jennie, seemingly hesitant. “You can rest if you’re tired, Tom managed to get the couches inside. They’re comfortable,” she offered. 
Jennie found herself shaking her head no. “I’ll help. It's a…” she yawned. “A lot of boxes.” 
Her mother raised a brow. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah,” she said, kneeling to open the first box in front of her. “I assume where Tom put the boxes is what room the things inside go in?”
“Yes, but don’t open the ones with green tape, I have to buy furniture for them tomorrow.”
So, in a slightly awkward silence, they unpacked the boxes, placing items in their respective places. Hours passed, and the sun sunk into the ocean and the moon emerged— as did the creatures of the night. The tree leaves blew with the wind and the ocean lapped the shore, a peaceful sound. 
Jennie was currently in the kitchen, organizing the plates and bowls into cabinets when she looked out the curtainless window to the backyard. It was pitch black save for the nightlights, and the strange girl was gone. 
“Jennie, why don’t you finish up there and we’ll call it a night,” her mom called from down the hall in the bathroom.
“Okay,” she responded distractedly. 
The juice box was tucked in a hole in the tree. 
Jennie was woken by gentle shaking of her shoulder. She blinked groggily, sitting up slightly. The face of her mom came into view. “What time is it?”
“12:26pm,” her mom told her.
Jennie yawned. “Why didn’t you wake me up earlier?”
“I figured you were jetlagged. And you’re probably hungry, so I ordered brunch.”
Jennie ate her french toast, listening to her mom tell her what the plan of the day was. They were to go grocery shopping to fill up the empty fridge,  to IKEA to buy some more furniture, and Jennie would have some time to walk around the neighborhood before sunset.
After she ate, Jennie went upstairs and dug through her suitcase's options and was surprised. The maids really did know what she liked, and she found it hard to pick an outfit since all of them were good. Finally settling on baggy blue jeans and a cropped, beige camisole with a matching jacket, she slipped into white flats and grabbed her wallet before heading downstairs. Her mother was already dressed and seated on the ivory couches scrolling on her phone, waiting. 
She looked up when Jennie approached. “You look nice. Ready to go?” she asked, standing. Jennie nodded at her and they walked out the door together. 
Jennie was in a particularly good mood after having food in her stomach until her mom brought up school in the car ride to the grocery store. The topic soured Jennie's mood considerably. She had hoped they would avoid any discussion about it till (at the latest— a stretch, really) the night before her first day of school. The idea of going to another school hadn't quite seeped in yet. 
“I’m sure it’ll be fun,” her mother tried, glancing at Jennie before returning her eyes to the road. “I’ve heard great things about the highschool from Tom; his friend’s son goes there.”
Tom, again. Tom this, Tom that, Tom said this, Tom did that.  “Speaking of Tom, what’s going on between you two?” Jennie pried. Did her mom think she didn’t notice the subtle flirting and touches they had as they were unpacking? Something was going on, and she was going to find out.
A mask of indifference settled on her mom’s face. “Nothing. And don’t change the topic. You never know, you might love the school.” 
Jennie rested her forehead on the window, watching the outside speed past. “We’ll see,” she whispered. 
Shopping for groceries went by relatively quickly, and they were on the way to IKEA in less than two hours. At IKEA, they ended up purchasing two tables, a TV stand, shelves, bed frames, and some rugs. Most of it will be delivered to their house from tomorrow to the next few days.
When Jennie got home, she changed into black biker shorts and a lightweight, baby blue hoodie due to the temperature rising quite a bit. She decided she would walk around the neighborhood. 
“I’m going on a walk!” She yelled, sliding her shoes back on. 
“Is your phone charged?” Her mom’s head peeked out from the kitchen, brow raised in question. 
“76%,” she responded, waving her phone in the air. 
“Okay, don’t go too far and get lost, and be back by…let’s say six.”
Jennie was out the door shortly. She paused at the end of the driveway, her thoughts conflicted on whether to go in the left or right direction. (She chose left.) Mid-afternoon, the neighborhood was infested with crawling newborns on lawn blankets and buzzing families. It was a cosmopolitan melting plot, inclusive and close-knit all at once. She felt slightly overwhelmed. 
It didn’t go past her that she was on the receiving end of curious onlookers. Did she stand out that much? Nonetheless, she ignored them. 
She mentally noted there was an ice cream shop further down the street she walked, right next to the park. Jennie made her way across the street to another block of the neighborhood, and it was obvious the people living on this street were more well off. The houses were practically mini mansions, and their lawns fenced in.
Jennie heard a shout from behind. “Hey!…Hey, wait up!” 
Jennie glanced behind her and quickly snapped her head back forward. Jogging up to her was (Y/n) again— the tree girl— waving her hand in the air wildly as she willed Jennie to slow her pace. With a groan, she slid the hood over her head and pulled the strings so tight she cut off her air supply till she relented. She began to gradually speed up her pace, almost breaking into a jog. You don’t know me. Go away. The footsteps got closer and Jennie eventually gave up, walking normally again. 
Panting, the girl fell in step with Jennie. “You walk so fast!” You wheezed. Jennie fought back a devilish smile. 
You were wearing something similar to Jennie, except you had on a jacket instead of a hoodie. You had stickers all over your face, however, and Jennie felt slightly offended, being a sticker collector and all. That’s not how you use stickers! 
“How’d you know it was me?” She asked.
“That’s easy; it’s like you have a big target on your back,” you laughed, poking her back to emphasize your point. 
She slapped your hands away. “A target on my back?” Jennie murmured, face scrunched in confusion.
“You’re new, is what I mean, like a shiny new toy.” You elaborated, hands moving animatedly. Then, your voice falled to a low murmur. “Everyone more or less knows each other here.”
“And that’s a good thing? You don’t sound happy about that at all.” 
With the absence of your answer she noticed the weight of snoopy eyes had dissipated since you came, they were no longer burning holes through her. She also noted that the surroundings were quieter, like some of those outside moved to their backyards or went inside. She didn’t dwell on why. 
“So…” You dragged out. “What made you move here?”
“Oh, I’m just visiting for a couple months.”  
“Visiting relatives?”
“Just my mom.”
A sign that had the image of a wave and underneath, directions to the dock was coming closer. The salty smell of the ocean was also more prominent. 
You hummed. “Do you like pengui—” You paused. 
“Do I like what?”
She stopped walking after noticing you had stopped before the sign. “What is it?”
You fidgeted in place. “I can’t go that far.”
“Why?”
You looked nervous— and Jennie thought it was a strange look on you. “I’m forbidden, they don’t want me to find the treasure… they want it for themselves.” 
“Huh?” 
You smiled so bright Jennie had to squint. “Did you know penguins poop every twenty minutes?”
What in the world?
Jennie’s face scrunched up. She was feeling lightheaded from the way you talked. Her head was spinning in circles. Everything you said was completely random— nothing connected. 
She ultimately decided you weren’t worth the headache and continued walking forward. Like she thought, you stayed rooted to your spot, a pout making the corners of your lips fall. 
Before she turned to enter the gate that was a part of the metal fence around the shoreline, separating homes from the sand, she heard you tell her to wave at the ocean for you.  
Good grief.
It’s been a few days since Jennie had an encounter with (Y/n), and she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t somewhat curious as to where she was. She refused to dwell on the idea that she missed the loudness that came with her. She didn’t. Why would she? She likes quiet. The peace and calm—
At the sound of loud singing, Jennie practically fell off her bed and scurried to the open window. (Leaving it open is a habit of hers now). Her eyes widened. You were sitting in the tree again, a regular pastime for you apparently, another juice box crushed in your hand. This time, however, you had brought three pillows, and she watched as you threw them down at the base of the tree. 
Safety measures in case you fell again?
She found herself throwing on some sweats and leaving her room. 
From the base of the tree, you blinked down at her, your hair falling around you. Then, comically, you waved wildly at her. “Hi, you!” 
“Hello… You’re looking at the ocean again?” She wondered why you seemed so entranced by it, why you looked at it with such wonder. It was just water. She wondered why she even bothered talking to you; wasn’t she trying to distance herself?
“Yes! Want to see?” 
“I don’t know, I’m good down here. I’m not good at climbing,” she shook her head, recalling the time she injured her ankle after an attempt to climb a tree after her cousin. 
“You’ll be fine! I’ll help you,” you hopped off the branch, landing on the ground next to her. “I’ll be down here to catch you if you fall.”
Jennie bit her lip and looked to the side, imagining the pain she’d go through if she fell. “But…”
“But- you’ll be just fine! C’mon, start climbing up. You can use that wedge there…”
Sitting in the tree, Jennie wondered how she let you coerce her into doing it. The view was pretty nice though. Clear waters stretched out, white sand, and the sun. 
“See, I knew you could do it,” you said when you sat next to her. Jennie merely hummed. You shuffled about before your face brightened up. You turned to her, eyes practically sparkling. “Hey, did you know that…” 
Hey. You. Hey, you. It’s then when she realized you’ve never called her by her name. It was always “you” or “hey” in place of her name. 
Jennie tilted her head at you, cutting your fun fact off. “Wait, do you even know my name?”
You paused, and it was clear you were searching through your (possibly glitter infested) mind for it. The effort was clear on your face and Jennie let out a quiet scoff, a sign of her amusement. She knocked your shoe with her own. “It’s Jennie.”
You gasped. “I totally knew that, you didn’t let me remember.”
“Sure.” Ignoring your pout, she carefully climbed down the tree. “Make sure you don’t forget it.”
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