in which marco reus falls head over heels in love with a woman whose skin is much darker than his.
(completed in 2016, CURRENTLY BEING REWRITTEN in 2020)
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56,093 likes • liked by marcinho11, theshaderoom, theestallion natashaclotaire: some of y'all ain't never had a real bitch and it shows 508 comments cathyhummels: TASHA 🤤🤤 theshaderoom: Ms. Clotaire...who are we talking about here 👀 jheneaiko: 👏🏽👏🏽👏🏽
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"Do you like it?" Marco turned to face Natasha with a small smile, using a tattooed arm to motion to the glorious display of the large yacht he'd chartered. "If you don't like it—or if you want to get off—we'll turn around and leave. Just say the word, Tasha."
Natasha lifted an eyebrow, took a dismissive and cursory glance around the yacht, and found her eyes landing right back on Marco's. "I just want to know the truth," she finally murmured, frowning slightly. "What have you done, Marco?"
Marco's bright green eyes, always so brooding and calculating, softened. "I'll explain everything to you," he spoke, slowly, "It won't make you happy, but it's the truth, and it's what you deserve to hear."
Natasha rubbed her lips together, offered another look of sassy impatience, and spoke with a voice full of confidence. "I'm waiting, Marco."
Marco eased onto a plush white seat near the railing of the huge boat, allowing him to gaze out at the ocean. God, he's so old and dramatic. Why won't he just speak? Natasha kept her eyes on him. "Scarlett and I were over before we began. When I met her, she'd just graduated secondary school. I think she was anywhere between 17 and 19, but she'd told me that she was 20—and I, at the time, was 23. My senior career was already taking off, but I was just so different back then. I'm sure you've seen it," Marco offered Natasha a sheepish grin. "I wasn't always as good looking as I am now, you know."
Natasha scoffed, then quickly covered her mouth and pretended to cough in order to hide her small smile of amusement. This was, after all, why she and Marco had such good chemistry—they understood their unique mannerisms, and only in a way that made them appreciate each other even more whenever the other spoke. "You're right," she finally murmured, perfectly fine with letting Marco see her teasing face. It was odd, having a boyfriend who she could Google endlessly on the internet, and always get different results. "You weren't."
There was a time when Marco wasn't a celebrity athlete with millions of Eueos and followers; a time when he wasn't frequenting the best hairstylists and tattoo artists in Europe, or working out religiously to become more dominant on the field. That was when he'd met Scarlett, and that was when he felt lucky to have her. Natasha herself had always been a beautiful girl, and she knew that. Usually, she was too beautiful—threateningly so. Marco loved this about her, but of course, most people envied it.
