#I seem to have had a lot to say about this one | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

luvergirl-535 · 3 days ago

Text

say when

pairing - paige bueckers x azzi fudd

word count - 5.0k

c/w - light smut, they get a little emo lol sorry

a/n - hi! as always, pls lmk what yall think, i love to hear from you guys <33 hope u enjoy babies. also, based off this prompt

paige bueckers is amazing at basically everything she’s ever done.

singing? they don’t call her p-yoncé for nothing. sports? she’s got trophies from every single one. basketball? her nil money speaks for itself. ipad? oh, she is so good at ipad. don’t even get her started about ipad.

she takes a lot of pride in her many, many talents. and her biggest one? the one she spends every day of her entire life living up to?

being azzi fudd’s dutiful, loyal, obsessed girlfriend.

so, one summer, when paige was in high school, her little sister got sick and their mom made paige stay home to babysit. which paige wouldn’t have minded, except it meant she had to sit on the couch and watch a full day’s worth of barbie life in the dreamhouse episodes. which is about five seasons too many, if you were to ask teenage paige.

but there was this sub-plot of the show (not that the show had a plot to begin with) in which barbie’s (boyfriend? side piece? fwb? paige has never been too sure), ken, is like, obsessed with her. his world revolves around her. so much so that he has this thing called ‘barbie senses’, and he literally senses when she needs help.

later that night, as paige complained to azzi over facetime about the stupid show and how she’d watched enough in one day to last her a lifetime, azzi had told paige that she’s like ken. when cool, nonchalant, totally-not-crushing-on-her-best-friend paige had replied incredulously, azzi’d just laughed and said, “you are. like with me. you have…azzi senses.” when she’d followed up with, “you just always know when i need you,” paige had internally declared that maybe the stupid show wasn’t so stupid after all.

even now, all these many years later, the sentiment sticks with paige. she’d never tell azzi, as she knows her girlfriend would tease her to an early grave about it, but she keeps it tucked away as one of her (again, many) talents.

and, well, paige’s azzi senses have been tingling for awhile now.

the tension started this morning, when paige had missed her alarm and woken up to a missed call. she’d texted her girlfriend good morning, letting her know she had to rush to class and that she’d call her later, which led azzi to believe she was purposely ignoring her, which got paige a little defensive, which ended in a baby argument. they said their i love you’s before hanging up but they haven’t really texted all day and paige doesn’t feel good about it.

maybe the tension actually started last night, when paige accidentally woke azzi up while she was sneaking out of her bed. she’d tried to be quiet, but her girlfriend ran a tight ship and woke up as soon as she realized paige was gone.

“what’re you doing?” she’d grumbled, and paige winced at how she already sounded cranky, likely due to the long day they’d had and the fact her knee was bothering her.

“uh,” paige said, and considered just crawling back into bed, but she really needed to be in her own room tonight, “i got classes early as hell, mama. i gotta sleep in my own bed.”

all of a sudden, azzi seemed much more awake than she did thirty seconds before. which scared paige, just a little. “what, you don’t sleep well with me or something?”

which in turn annoyed paige a little. “nah, baby, you know it’s not like that.”

to which azzi had sighed and turned over, her back facing paige as she huffed about something or other. paige didn’t let herself take it too serious, sure her girlfriend was just tired, and had given her a few kisses and an apology before leaving.

if she’s being honest with herself (which is not one of paige’s many talents, if you were wondering), the tension started a week ago, when azzi landed on her knee wrong in practice and got so scared that when they took her back to examine her, she ended up clawing at her own chest, unable to breathe, telling paige that she ‘can’t do this again, oh my god, i can’t fucking do this again, please.’

it was nothing, a minor sprain that happened to hurt a lot, and everybody was incredibly fucking relieved. but azzi was still benched for the week as a precaution, and her already fucked-up knee was bothering her more than a healthy knee would, and whenever paige tried to bring it up she’d say something along the lines of, “it’s fine, paige, just scared me a little.”

so, yeah. paige’s azzi senses are tingling bad. it’s almost painful. she’s decided, now that it’s friday, to have a date night. when she calls, she’s a little afraid azzi won’t even pick up, all things considered, but she does on the first ring.

“hey,” azzi says, voice a little unreadable.

“hey, baby,” paige replies, checking her mirrors before turning into the parking lot. “i, uh, was thinkin’ we could do something tonight. we haven’t had a date night in awhile.”

“a date night?” there’s silence, and then a sigh crackling through the speakers of paige’s car. “i don’t know if i’m up to go out, p.”

“no, no, i know,” paige rushes to say, steering into a parking spot and switching her audio to her phone before turning the car off. “sorry, can you hear me?”

“uh-huh.”

“well, i was jus’ thinking a movie night. i’m out right now, i’ma get some snacks, and you could pick a movie. i just…” trying to tread carefully here, she sighs, glancing out the window before back at her phone, “i know it’s been a rough week, and i miss you.”

another moment of silence, enough to make paige worry that azzi is more upset than she originally thought, but then, “i miss you too.” azzi sounds almost sheepish when she says, “i’m sorry—about this morning, and last night. i feel bad.”

“you know it’s all good, mama,” paige replies. “we can talk about it when i get there, m’kay? but we’re good.”

“yeah?”

“always.”

✮✮✮

paige stands in the chip aisle, sends her seventh text of the evening, and thinks they will definitely not be okay if azzi keeps leaving her on delivered.

barbecue? sour cream & onion? salt & vinegar?

…jalapeño?

no response.

baby please i can’t decide

help. me.

still nothing.

she considers just grabbing all of them, but then she’ll look unhinged at checkout, and she’s already made intense eye contact with an old woman who saw her talking to herself by the kettle chips. she has to leave, like, an hour ago.

“aight,” she mutters aloud, trying her hardest to decide which chips are the sexiest. “barbecue is classic but is it like, hot? sour cream & onion? shit, bad breath. uh…salt & vinegar? ew, never mind.” she presses her lips together, hands on her hips as she surveys the options. “you know what? azzi’s yummy. azzi’s kettle-cooked jalapeño.”

(back in her dorm, azzi pauses her book mid-sentence and wonders briefly if paige will bring kettle-cooked jalapeño chips. she really hopes paige will bring kettle-cooked jalapeño chips).

✮✮✮

paige lets herself in quietly, careful not to drop any of the grocery bags she’s juggling. the last thing she needs is for azzi to catch her slipping with a plastic tub of movie theater popcorn and calling her ‘uncoordinated’ again. which was extremely offensive the first time it happened and paige’s ego just can’t take another hit like that.

the dorm is dim, warm. cozy in that particular way azzi always manages to make it—unicorn plushies left out, pink throw pillows just slightly askew, vanilla candles melted down to the wick. paige sets the bags down and gets to work in the kitchen, pulling out bowls and cups and wondering briefly whether coach would cry if he saw the pure amount of salt and sugar laid before her.

“hey,” ice says, walking into the kitchen wrapped in a fuzzy blanket. “watchu being loud for?”

“it’s eight o’clock on a friday,” paige replies, pulling out the flowers and plushie she got for azzi. “can you help me carry some of this?”

ice’s gaze wanders over the gifts. “did y’all fight?”

“no. seriously, help me out.”

“really?” ice takes the cups in one hand and a bowl in the other. “because she was acting like a bitch this morning and we couldn’t figure out why.”

“yo,” paige says, raising an eyebrow.

ice rolls her eyes. “sorry, she was acting like a butthead this morning.”

“still offensive,” paige replies, pressing her lips together as she focuses on simultaneously holding two bowls, a teddy bear, and the bouquet. “and still no. we just had a little argument, but we’re cool.”

they begin walking down the hallway, and ice takes a sip from what’s supposed to be azzi’s cup. “so the gifts are for…?”

“she’s had a hard week,” paige says, lowering her voice as they get closer to azzi’s room.

“with her knee?” ice asks.

“i think so, yeah. that’s kinda what i’m tryna figure out.” they come to a stop in front of azzi’s door, and paige hovers for a moment, hands-less, until ice realizes and reaches out to help her.

inside, the room smells like body spray and azzi’s hair products. her led lights are on, set to the soft pink she likes to sleep with, and azzi’s an adorable-looking lump under the covers. paige has to physically refrain herself from squealing.

ice sets the snacks on azzi’s bedside, mutters a sarcastic, “don’t have too much fun,” and exits, leaving the two of them alone.

paige sets her things down, too, and carefully arranges them before sitting on the bed, gently jostling azzi’s shoulder. “az, hey,” she whispers, trying not to startle her and feeling a little bad for waking her at all. “lemme see you, baby.”

azzi grumbles a little, and paige may or may not get war flashbacks from last night, but then azzi is turning onto her back and smiling sleepily up at her even as her eyes stay closed.

“goofy,” paige says, brushing her fingers tenderly over azzi’s cheek. “why you tryna fall asleep on our date night?”

azzi’s smile turns a little guilty as she says, “i needed a power nap,” but then she’s wrapping her arms around paige’s neck and pulling her down for a kiss and she’s never been anything but perfect.

“fair,” paige mutters against her lips. “i hope it was powerful, because i come bearing gifts.”

finally, azzi opens her eyes. “oh?”

paige laughs, reaching for the stuffy and flowers and holding them on her lap. she watches as her girlfriend shifts until she’s sitting against the headboard, unable to keep herself from smiling softly at the rumpled, sleepy image of her before clearing her throat and nodding down at her lap. “know the flowers from last time were wilting, and you mentioned how you needed another baby…”

paige isn’t sure why she still feels like this around azzi, her long-term girlfriend of three years—why she still gets all nervous and blushy with her, when paige isn’t one to get nervous and blushy at all. but who can blame her, when azzi is beautiful and perfect and looking at her like that.

several beats pass before azzi gently pushes the flowers and plushie aside and wraps her arms around paige’s neck, tugging until paige hugs her back.

“thank you,” she says into paige’s neck. “i don’t…i just…”

“you don’t gotta say anything.” paige presses a kiss to her shoulder. “i know.”

azzi shakes her head. “no, but—i do.” she looks paige in the eye, keeping them closely connected even as she pulls away from her skin. “it’s just. i feel like i’ve been kinda shitty lately.”

“you haven’t,” paige says immediately, brushing her thumb over azzi’s arm. “you’re having a hard week, baby. doesn’t make you shitty. just human.”

azzi hums, unconvinced. “i’ve been short with you.”

“okay, a little snappy,” paige teases, and azzi groans, hiding her face in paige’s neck. “but it’s okay. i know you’re not mad at me. i’m just tryna understand what you need, so i can show up for you better.”

azzi exhales against her skin. “you already do.”

“good,” paige says, kissing the top of her head. “then stop stressin’ about it and come eat chips with me.”

azzi perks up. “chips?”

“i was stressed over which ones to buy, actually.” paige pulls back and grabs the bowl from the bedside table, holding it up like a trophy. “kettle-cooked jalapeño.“

azzi gasps. “no way.” she presses another kiss to paige’s lips. “how’d you know?”

azzi senses. “oh, y’know, just a good guess.”

azzi looks over the other snacks on the nightstand before saying, “you didn’t get sour cream and onion?”

“bad breath chips? absolutely not.”

“smart move.”

“yep. i also got movie theater popcorn, peanut m&ms, sour patch kids, and—brace yourself—a slurpee.”

azzi gasps. “from the gas station?”

“yes, and i made eye contact with a man who was, like, mid-psychotic break. that’s how much i love you.”

azzi leans over and kisses her again, gentle and grateful, and murmurs, “thank you,” into her lips.

“don’t mention it,” paige says, already sidling up beside azzi and tucking herself under the covers. “now pick a movie before i force us to rewatch high school musical 2.”

“we’re already halfway through it on my disney plus,” azzi confesses.

“this is why we’re dating.”

✮✮✮

they don’t end up watching high school musical 2, because azzi insists it’ll make her week worse. and they don’t watch frozen, either, because paige just can’t. so, they compromise, and an hour later the room is cast in blue from the tv, love & basketball playing on low volume. azzi has what appears to be approximately 1,000 stuffed animals surrounding her, claiming they ‘missed her’. (“they miss you, too, paige,” she says when paige looks at her judgmentally. “you’re like an absent father.”) paige decides to ignore that and, though she pouts about not being able to cuddle, she gets comfortable in azzi’s bed like she’s apart of it, sprawled out with a hand in the chip bowl.

they’ve been trading lazy commentary, chatting about silly things throughout the movie, considering it’s one they’ve both seen a million times. after a particular comment about how brutal practice was this week, paige shifts, leaning up on one elbow so she can glance down at azzi’s leg. “how’s the knee?” she asks quietly.

azzi hums noncommittally. “fine,” she says, but there’s a little wince as she stretches. “sore.”

“lemme see,” paige says, already sliding a hand under the blanket. she finds azzi’s leg by feel, curling her palm around her calf before slowly moving up, thumb brushing over the joint with practiced care.

“you don’t have to—”

“shh,” paige says, grinning. “don’t tell me what to do, mama. i wanna help.”

azzi snorts, but the sound melts into something softer when paige starts to knead around the edge of her kneecap, working slow, rhythmic circles into the muscle. she exhales, long and low, eyes fluttering shut as her body relaxes more fully into the pillows.

“good?” paige murmurs, shifting closer. she moves the stuffies out of the way in order to ghost her lips along azzi’s shoulder.

“mm-hmm,” azzi replies, voice suddenly a little breathier. “really good.”

paige’s hand keeps moving, a little more deliberate now, trailing higher up her thigh beneath the covers. her fingertips drag slow lines against azzi’s skin, almost absentminded, but there’s nothing absent about the way azzi shifts her hips, just barely, or the way her breath catches when paige presses a kiss to her jaw.

“you always do this,” azzi whispers, head tilting toward her. “start all innocent.”

paige lets out a little laugh, brushing her nose against azzi’s cheek. “i literally asked about your injury.”

“yeah, and now you’re halfway up my thigh.”

“can’t help it if you keep makin’ those noises,” paige says, voice going low and playful as her hand slows to a stop, palm resting heavy against azzi’s skin. “not my fault you sound so good, baby.”

azzi turns her head then, mouth catching paige’s in a kiss that’s slow and familiar, but it heats up faster than most their kisses do. it might have something to do with all the tension from the week, or the argument this morning, or the make-up—maybe a mix of everything—but it’s open-mouthed and messy within minutes. azzi’s hand slides into paige’s hair as she shifts to pull her closer, deepening the kiss just enough to make paige exhale hard through her nose.

she pulls away, smiling when azzi chases after her but keeping her face just out of reach. “hold on,” she breathes, resting her forehead against azzi’s.

“you good?” azzi asks, nudging their noses together.

“uh-huh. just…gotta stop before i can’t.”

“who said anything about stopping?” azzi asks, low and teasing.

paige pulls back to look at her. “i didn’t think you’d want it.”

azzi looks at her like she’s crazy. “‘course i do. why wouldn’t i?”

“with everything going on,” paige explains, soothing her hand up and down azzi’s thigh. “didn’t think you were in a good headspace right now.”

“i’m good, paige,” azzi assures, sounding just a little exasperated at how often she’s had to tell paige that, but she only keeps asking because she never quite believes her when she sees it.

“okay,” paige says, “you gotta promise me, though, aight? if you’re not into it, tell me that.”

“paige,” azzi sighs, and then she’s cupping her face in her hands and pulling her in and kissing her again, kissing her in a way that makes her feel raw. when she pulls back, they’re both breathing heavy. “please, baby,” she whispers. “want you.”

that’s all it takes to crumble whatever was left of paige’s self-control. she shifts until azzi’s flat on her back and pushes the rest of the damn stuffies away in a rush before leaning down to kiss her again. azzi sighs this soft little moan into her mouth and paige is already dripping into her boxers.

paige’s lips trail down azzi’s jawline, kissing a slow path until she reaches the hollow at the base of her neck. her fingers twitch with a quiet urgency, slipping beneath the waistband of azzi’s boxers, fingertips grazing the warm, sensitive skin of her mound. azzi’s breath hitches—a soft, unguarded sound that makes paige’s heart hammer a little faster.

the room feels smaller, warmer, wrapped in the quiet hum of the movie and their mingled breaths. paige’s fingers explore, gentle but insistent, sliding into azzi’s cunt just enough to gather the juices there before bringing them up to her clit and circling softly.

azzi’s eyes flutter shut, lashes resting against flushed cheeks as she exhales slowly. her fingers curl into paige’s t-shirt, gripping lightly, as paige continues to work her over. she uses her free hand to ruck azzi’s sweater up, just enough to expose the soft skin of her belly, and she pulls back to look, exhaling at the sight: azzi’s piercing glinting, paige’s hand moving beneath her boxers. she moves away from her clit to dip inside again, not far, just enough to coat a finger in azzi’s slick before she carefully extracts her hand.

azzi whimpers at the loss of contact, but paige just shakes her head, bringing her hand up to her lips and sucking the arousal off her finger. she’s missed how azzi tastes, and she moans at it before ducking down to press a kiss to azzi’s stomach with a new purpose in mind.

“paige,” azzi whines as paige lays herself out between her thighs.

“i wanna eat you, mami,” paige replies, sucking a small mark into brown skin. “that okay?”

when she looks back up, azzi’s staring at her, and there’s something there that paige can’t quite read, which is—well, it’s alarming, considering she can always read her girlfriend, especially when it comes to this. but then azzi’s nodding, desperation washing over her features, and paige can still taste the remnants of her, and she needs more.

“please, paige,” azzi sighs, pressing against her shoulders to urge her down. “need you.”

“tell me if it’s too much, baby,” paige murmurs, shifting lower to press a kiss to the delicate skin of azzi’s thigh. “i want to make you feel good.”

azzi’s response is a shaky breath and a whispered, “please.”

paige nods, kissing her thighs gently as she removes her boxers, allowing azzi to kick them the rest of the way off as she turns back to her center. paige spreads her open, blowing a little onto her clit until it twitches, and when azzi whines she leans forward to suck it into her mouth.

paige groans low at the taste, sharp and metallic from the earlier teasing, before flicking her tongue over it. azzi’s hips buck up just a little, and she slings an arm across her abdomen to keep her from moving. her tongue moves lower, dipping into her cunt where the taste is the strongest. she honest-to-god salivates a little, and she moans again, using her free hand to loop around azzi’s thigh and pull her closer.

azzi’s breath catches, soft little moans spilling out between quiet pants, and paige will never love anything more than her sounds, the way her hips struggle to move against paige’s grip, the way her hands tighten in paige’s hair.

she takes her arm off azzi’s stomach, lifting her head enough to look at her. “stay still f’me, okay?”

azzi nods frantically against the pillow. paige presses a smile into her thigh before easing two fingers inside of her slowly. azzi gasps, surprised, and then hides a moan in her palm—though azzi’s roommates have definitely heard them by now.

paige moves steady and patient, like always. her fingers move slow and sure, not rushing to build her up, while her mouth presses lazy kisses against her cunt. every now and then, she glances up, and her whole face softens at the sight of azzi laid out for her, chest rising and falling a little faster now, lips parted in that way that always makes paige want to come back up and kiss her.

she lets her teeth graze her clit, just to hear the sharp inhale it pulls, then goes right back to her work—her fingers curling just right, wrist flexing in little deliberate strokes like she’s trying to memorize her.

“you’re doing so good,” paige murmurs, voice a little syrupy, chin tucked against azzi’s thigh. her free hand strokes gently up azzi’s stomach, and she frowns slightly at the tension she finds there. “you gotta relax for me, sweetheart.”

azzi moans softly, but her muscles still feel tightly clenched and it has paige moving up, fingers working steadily inside her as she shifts so she can press gentle kisses to her mouth. “i got you, az,” she whispers, kissing her cheek tenderly. “you can relax, baby girl. it’s okay.”

azzi nods. moans as paige’s fingers hit that spongy spot inside her, but then sound turns into something different, something frustrated, and then it’s almost like a sob. and it’s enough for paige to pause.

“hey,” she says softly, slowing her hand but not pulling away. “are you okay, baby?”

azzi doesn’t answer right away. her eyes are open, unfocused, lips parted like she’s trying to figure out how to explain something she doesn’t really understand herself.

“i…” her voice breaks. “i’m sorry. i’m trying, i just—i can’t.”

paige freezes, her hand still warm between azzi’s thighs. her stomach drops.

“what? hey, no, no, don’t be sorry,” she says quickly, pulling her fingers out carefully and wincing when azzi does. “talk to me, mama—what’s wrong? did i hurt you?”

azzi shakes her head, blinking fast. “no, it’s not you. i just—i don’t know. it’s like i’m too in my head or something. i want to, it feels good, but i can’t focus.”

“you should’ve told me,” paige says, quieter now. she wonders how long azzi let her go for after she realized she wasn’t into it, and it kind of makes her stomach drop. “i told you to say something if you weren’t into it. would you have even—would you have even said anything if i hadn’t asked if you were okay?”

“i don’t know,” azzi says, and now her voice does wobble. she wipes at her cheeks with the backs of her hands like that’ll stop the tears from coming, but they keep slipping anyway. “i don’t know, paige. i just…i didn’t wanna, like, ruin it.”

paige’s heart clenches hard at that. “ruin it?” she echoes, a little incredulous. “az, it’s not supposed to feel like pressure. this isn’t—you know that’s not what this is about.”

“i know,” azzi says again, and now she’s fully crying, eyes scrunching up as she tries to breathe through it. “i’m just—i’ve had such a shitty week and you were being so sweet, and i wanted to, i swear, i thought maybe it would help, but—” she chokes on the end of it, voice cracking. “i don’t know. i’m sorry.”

the guilt hits her all at once, because here she is lecturing her girlfriend while said girlfriend is having an emotional crisis and being probably the saddest crier paige has ever seen. she leans back down, hands gentle on azzi’s stomach as she presses a soft kiss to her trembling lips. “hey,” she whispers. “i don’t want you to say sorry, baby. it’s nothin’ you gotta apologize for.”

“but it’s never happened before,” azzi says, sounding like that alone is breaking her a little. “‘nd i dunno what’s going on with me for it to happen this time.”

paige swallows thickly, chest aching. she gathers azzi into her arms, moving them until azzi’s on her chest, cradling her head close.

“you shouldn’t be mad at yourself,” she murmurs after a moment. “it’s okay to be overwhelmed. especially when you’re, like, the busiest person on the planet and trying to be everything to everyone.”

azzi sniffles, curling tighter into her. her fingers twitch against paige’s ribs like she wants to hold her closer.

“i just didn’t wanna let you down,” she whispers.

“you didn’t let me down,” paige says immediately. she tilts her head enough to press a kiss to azzi’s temple, then another to her hairline. “you didn’t. i’m just—i’m upset because i didn’t know. because you waited until you were crying to let me know something was off.”

azzi doesn’t say anything. her breath hitches like she might cry again.

paige closes her eyes and leans her head back. “i need to ask you something, ‘kay?”

“okay,” azzi breathes.

“next time,” paige says softly, “if something feels off—even a little bit—you tell me. you don’t wait for me to ask. you tell me. i don’t care if we’re two seconds in or right at the edge or whatever. i need to know, baby. i can’t read your mind.”

“okay,” azzi says again, quieter, and then after a second, “i promise.”

paige nods, still holding her. “good. thank you.”

they stay like that for a moment. paige’s chest rises and falls slowly beneath azzi’s cheek. love & basketball plays softly, and they have had an impossible amount of moments just like this one while this very movie was playing on tv, and paige sort of wants to cry a little herself.

instead she brushes a knuckle under azzi’s chin and tips her head up just enough to look at her. “you didn’t ruin anything. you know that, right?”

“kinda feels like i did.”

“you didn’t,” paige says again. “we’re allowed to have bad nights. or hard nights. or nights where we start something and realize we need to stop. that’s actually, like, really fucking normal and i think you and i are just different from most people.”

azzi lets out a shaky laugh through her tears. “i hate that you’re right.”

“i know,” paige says with a little smile, tucking azzi’s hair behind her ear. “as usual.”

azzi groans softly and hides her face in paige’s neck again, still a little tear-sticky and snuffly, but the muscles in her shoulders finally relax as she lets paige hold her.

paige wraps both arms around her, settling them chest to chest, and lets her thumb rub slow circles over azzi’s back. “you wanna stay like this for a while?” she asks, voice low and close.

azzi nods into her neck. “don’t wanna move.”

“okay, mama,” paige whispers. “we’ll stay right here.”

for a few minutes, that’s exactly what they do—paige stroking her back, azzi breathing uneven against her throat, both of them held together in that soft, heavy quiet that only comes after a cry. and when azzi’s breathing finally starts to even out, when the tension starts to ease from her shoulders, she lifts her head.

“i hope you know i’m seriously considering offing myself,” she says, which startles a laugh out of paige.

“why?” she asks, pushing a curl from azzi’s tear-stained cheek.

“because we were having sex and then i cried.”

“you cried the first time we had sex.”

“that was an emotional moment.”

“you cried last month after that party.”

“i was shwasted.”

paige smiles, then kisses azzi’s pout. and usually paige hates it when people cry, because she feels awkward and unsure of what to do, but she is azzi fudd’s dutiful, loyal, obsessed girlfriend. “i think we can both agree that i’m good with you crying. please don’t kill yourself.”

“yeah, okay.” azzi sniffles, eyes red-rimmed but full of something warm now. “i love you,” she says, voice hoarse.

paige smiles, thumb brushing her cheek. “i love you more.”

and azzi just sighs, deep and tired and safe, before tucking herself right back into paige’s arms like she belongs there.

#pazzi #azzi fudd #paige bueckers #pazzi fics #uconn wbb #wcbb #dallas wings #lilah’s works

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redlinespeedster · 1 day ago

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pretty please oscar piastri degradation im feral over his post-spain photos

CRAVING THE NEW !! ☆

oscar piastri 𝒙 fem!reader

[summary] Oscar was the perfect boyfriend—sweet, thoughtful, chivalrous to the extreme. You were used to his soft whispers, those breathy I-love-yous even in the middle of moans. But that night, right after he took the win at the Spanish Grand Prix, you looked at him with this different kind of spark in your eyes and dropped a request that knocked the air out of him: you wanted him to degrade you, no holding back. And there was no way he could say no. (1.7k)

[warnings] smut !! rough sex, degrading dirty talk, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, fingering, Oscar is mean. Spanish is my first language, and I usually write all my fics in Spanish first, then translate them myself with a lot of effort. Sorry if anything sounds off or if there are mistakes.

[notes] I’ve been drooling over those pics for like three days. Damn, he looks so freaking good. Wish I were Lily, seriously. 😫

Your whole life, you had always liked the good guys—the ones with sweet words, the ones who brought you flowers on dates and opened the car door or any door wherever you went together. You always thought good guys were simply better. And Oscar proved it every single time.

He blushed every time he talked about you. He loved showing you off, and his words always carried that sweet tone—even when he had you tangled in his sheets. Oscar was talented at many things beyond motorsport, but his greatest gift was knowing exactly how to make you feel desired, cherished… one of a kind.

But over time, your darker desires began to awaken inside you. They were fantasies you’d been suppressing for years, but now they became frequent—impossible to ignore. It wasn’t about wanting someone else or being unsatisfied with the way you and him made love—not at all. There was simply a smoldering hunger within you, a need to explore something new… with him.

At first, you felt afraid. Afraid that Oscar might get offended, that he’d take your request as a criticism or a warning that your sex life wasn’t working. A lot of people don’t even have a mind open enough to understand that wanting to try new things doesn’t mean what came before was bad; sometimes, it’s simply about the curiosity for the unexpected.

You waited all race weekend to tell him officially. You wanted to do it when you were both home, alone, with no one who could interrupt the conversation by knocking on the door.

Oscar was genuinely happy—you could see it on his face, mostly in the way his cheeks lifted when he smiled. You, on the other hand, were anxious, anticipating how things might go, and unfortunately, he noticed.

“Baby… is everything okay? You’ve seemed kinda off since we got off the plane,” he asks, placing a hand on your knee in a gentle, understanding gesture.

Your eyes fill with tears from the anxiety. You didn’t mean to cry, but the idea of telling Oscar what’s going on makes you uncomfortable. You knew you could trust him with anything; what you didn’t know was how he’d react.

“Something’s going on with me. It’s not that I don’t love you or that I don’t like the way we have sex, but…” You stop when you see Oscar looking at you, confused and worried, so you decide to just be direct. “I want you to degrade me.”

The weirdest part? He doesn’t even seem surprised. There’s no trace of disappointment on his face either—none of that dramatic “you want this because you don’t love me anymore” stuff. Nothing like that. On the contrary, he grabs you by the hips and pulls you into that perfect space between his legs. His warm breath brushes against your ear—soft, steady—as his fingers slowly slide through your hair.

“You really want that? How come you never told me?” he asks. You turn your head to look him in the eyes, and there’s something about the way your pupils dilate that sparks an odd tenderness in him.

“It’s just… I didn’t know how you’d take it” you admit. Your body shivers when he lets out a low laugh, dry and almost amused.

There’s a sexual tension in the room that practically scorches you, stealing your breath. You feel his hands rest on your shoulders, then slowly slide down. He traces your collarbone with the tip of his fingers in a way that makes you shiver, and starts unbuttoning your tiny shirt. Your cheeks flush instantly, intimidated by how his gaze stays locked on you.

“Embarrassed, huh?” he asks, but you’re not really sure what to say—you just stay quiet. His hands move over your chest on top of your shirt, and your heart starts racing. “Why though, babe? It’s not like you’ve ever had a dirty mind or anything.”

His thumbs start teasing your nipples through the thin fabric of your white shirt. He immediately notices you’re not wearing a bra and smirks. Not a big smile—more like a cocky one, like he’s lowkey amused by how easy it is to get you like this.

“I bet you’re soaked. You always get like this. Acting like a bitch in heat.”

A slight jolt of arousal runs through your body. His voice, deeper than usual, and his words catch you off guard. You’re still not completely used to hearing him talk like that, but you don’t mind… if anything, you want more.

He's not wrong, your pussy is dripping.

He notices the second his hand moves down and his fingers slide over the denim fabric of your shorts. Your nose brushes against his; he’s calm, eyes half-lidded, with an almost taunting stillness. You, on the other hand, are a mess—you can barely breathe.

“You’re not even trying to hide it. I spent the whole damn weekend focused on my race, stressing about losing, and all you could think about was riding me like the filthy little slut you are. Am I wrong, babe?

His hand unbuttoned your pants until they dropped and bunched up around your ankles. He can see the wet stain on your panties—sticky and damp. You’d soaked through the fabric. He presses his fingers gently over it, and as a result, they get wet too. But what really gets to you is the moan that slips out, caused by how sensitive you are.

He doesn’t even bother taking your panties off; he just lazily pushes the fabric aside, leaving you completely exposed. Eager anticipation made your clit throb.

Oscar used to touch you slowly, taking his time to gently slide his fingers through your wet folds and then sweetly rub your clit. But this time, it’s different. He quickly slips two fingers into your hole, curling them into a hook to hit that exact spot inside you. Then, once you’ve gotten used to it, he starts moving them in and out with steady force, pulling deep moans from your throat that fill the room.

“Fuck, Osc!” you moan out loud, and you feel him pull his fingers out just to slap your pussy gently—a move that sends an instant jolt through your body and makes you squirm.

“Shut up, slut.” he orders, and you feel his fingers curl back inside you, pounding your poor hole with a near-brutal rhythm, thrusting in and out without mercy. The way he timed each thrust to hit that perfect spot inside you before pulling back was just unreal.

His hand grips your hips, trying to pull you even closer, making your ass rub against his hardness. You can feel his erection—still clothed—pressing firmly against your skin. His hands move down with urgency to get rid of the fabric in the way, unbuckling his belt without wasting a second.

His damp hands grip your hips tightly before he throws you onto the bed without a second thought, making you bounce against the mattress with a muffled moan. He grabs you by the ankles and drags you toward him, settling between your legs as his body drops over yours, trapping you with no room to escape.

“I can only imagine the agony,” he murmurs, eyes locked on yours while his hands grip your bare thighs. Then he lifts them firmly, spreading them and pushing them toward your body until your knees are nearly pressed against your stomach. “You spent the whole week watching me race, dying for me to wreck you. You don’t like it when I talk sweet, do you? When I tell you how good you look or how amazing you feel. What really turns you on is when I treat you like my throwaway toy.”

You feel him drip slowly onto the lower part of your stomach—warm and wet—leaving a sticky sensation clinging to your skin. Then his cock slides gently through your folds, not entering, just teasing; he only wants to watch you lose control.

“Oscar… please.” you sob between moans, clinging tightly to his back like letting go would mean losing your mind. “I can’t take it… I can’t.”

He shifts, kneeling in front of your pussy—completely exposed, utterly wrecked. The tip of his cock slides in slowly until it disappears inside you, filling you up completely. He pauses for a second to let you adjust, and in the next, he’s thrusting hard, the sound of your bodies slapping echoing through every corner of your house.

Oscar moans too. He moans because you’re squeezing him just right—hot, wet, and perfect—driving him insane. His hands dig into your thighs, pushing your legs toward your chest to spread you open wider, so he can bury himself as deep as possible and fuck you without mercy.

“Fuck…” he groans, voice rough as his face twists in pure pleasure. The look on his face—that mix of ecstasy and desperation—sets you off instantly. Your walls tighten around him, like your body’s trying to keep him there till the very end. You’re right on the edge, seconds away from turning the moment into a glorious mess. “You want me to fill you up? I will. I’ll stuff you so full my cum’ll be dripping out of that pathetic pussy for days.”

You can feel how tightly you’re clenching around him, until you finally make him come inside you, milking him for every last drop. Your pussy takes it all in, savoring every bit until you’re left a creamy mess, mixed with your own orgasm that bursts inside you too. The pleasure hits so hard it leaves you dazed, gasping, your body trembling and your legs on the verge of giving out.

He looks at you tenderly, finally letting go of that dominant side once he sees you’re satisfied with what he gave you. He smiles softly and leans in again to kiss your forehead. Your cheeks, inevitably, flush all over again.

“I like this…” he murmurs quietly, his hand gently caressing your cheek. You raise an eyebrow, curious, not really getting what he means. “Fucking you till you can’t breathe and then watching you blush like a virgin. That’s just something I’ll never get tired of, huh baby?”

#oscar piastri #oscar piastri smut #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x fem!reader #oscar piastri fanfic #f1 #formula 1 #formula one #f1 smut #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #formula 1 smut #formula 1 x reader

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soaps-mohawk · 3 days ago

Text

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 54: The Farm

Summary: You adjust to your life on the MacTavish farm and learn some surprising things about yourself.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 8,237 words

Warnings: Alpha/beta/omega dynamics, A/B/O, alternate universe, angst, emotions, fluff, animals, you might fall in love with a fictional dog, slight language.

A/N: I love this chapter and I hope you will too!

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

You’re trying to fight the tears as they sting your eyes, desperately trying to stop them from falling as you walk back towards the house. Lily steps aside, letting you enter before closing the door behind you.

“Aw, hen.” She coos, rubbing your back. “It’s okay tae cry.”

You can’t stop them. They would have fallen without the permission, but being allowed to cry only makes them fall faster. Lily wraps her arms around you, pulling you tight against her chest. Her hand strokes your hair as she coos softly at you, rocking you back and forth gently.

“Saying goodbye is always hard.” She says softly. “I damn near cry a river when Johnny-boy leaves. It’s hard when ye don’t know how long it’ll be until ye see them again. I’m sure ye know that well.”

“Yeah.” You sniffle. You don’t know when you’ll see Johnny or Simon again. If you’ll see them again. You shove that thought aside into the deep recesses of your mind. You have enough to cry about, you’re not going to entertain those kinds of thoughts right now.

Lily kisses the top of your head before pulling back, wiping your tears with her shirt sleeve. “There we go.” You sniffle, trying to stop the flood sliding down your cheeks. There’s a wet spot on her shirt, but she doesn’t seem to even notice. She gives you a soft smile, holding your face in her hands. “Ye remind me of my youngest girl. So sweet and soft and polite. All beta. Quite the opposite of the rest of her siblings. She’s in medical school now training tae be an omega specialist.”

A small smile tugs at your lips. It makes you think of Dr. Keller and how she’s doing with her new job, how things are going with Ashley. Maybe you’ll ask John if he knows when you see him again.

“I’m sure she’ll be great at it.” You say. “Takes a lot of patience to work with omegas sometimes.”

You think about how much patience Dr. Keller had for you at the beginning, while she worked on helping you through your trauma and unlearning what the institute taught you. It had taken a long time, but you’re here today because of her and everything she did for you.

“I had an omega specialist on base for a while.” You say. “I owe a lot to her for getting me through those first few months.”

“I’m so glad ye had someone tae support ye.” Lily says, petting your hair. The tears have slowed to almost none. “I’m sure it was a great help.”

“I don’t know if I would have made it without her.” You say quietly.

“I think you could have. There’s a strength to ye. A quiet strength. I can see it.” Lily says, squeezing you against her chest one more time. “Ye’d have tae have it putting up with those boys.”

You giggle, hugging her back for a moment before she releases you.

“Come on,” She says, patting your head. “I have someone I want ye tae meet.”

You tilt your head as she moves into the house, heading for the back door. You follow, unsure who else you have to meet besides maybe the sheep.

“Here,” She says, pulling out a pair of boots. “These should work until we can get ye a proper pair of Wellies in town.”

“You don’t have to do that.” You say, toeing out of your tennis shoes.

“Course we do.” She says, slipping on her own boots. Storm stands at the door, ready to run out as soon as its open. “Ye need a pair anyway.”

You don’t argue, following her out the door.

The back yard is spacious, a garden set up in one corner, and a veranda in the other with a barbecue. You can imagine sitting out there in the summer, eating a hot dog and watching the sun set over the green hills. Storm races around the yard, tail wagging, all excited.

“Still young at heart.” Lily says as she walks down the path towards the gate. There’s a barn off to the right in the distance, a dirt road leading between the pastures.

You can see why she insisted on the boots now as the ground gets muddy beyond the gate.

“Murray is over the hill with the sheep.” She says, pointing off to the right where a hill rises. “Spends most of his day out there.” She opens a gate to the left, passing through before holding it open for you. “I like to spend my time in here.”

Your boots squelch as you walk through the muddy grass towards a smaller barn.

“Ye ever lived on a farm before?” Lily asks as you approach what looks like a chicken coop.

“No,” you answer. “We always lived close to the base my dad was stationed at. We moved around too much to have animals.”

“He was in the service?” She asks.

You nod. “Marines. It was his entire personality.”

She chuckles. “Usually is.” She pauses in front of the coop. “These are my girls. I let them out early and collect eggs.”

There’s ten chickens that you can count roving around the coop. It’s decent sized, bigger than you would have imagined.

“I leave them in there so the hawks don’t get ‘em.” She says. “Now, who I wanted ye to meet,” She continues towards the barn, the grass getting more and more solid as you go.

You walk up a small hill to the barn, something standing beside it. Something large and brown.

“This here is my coo, Mabel.” Lily says, walking right up to the cow.

You nearly die of cuteness on the spot. Mabel is a highland cow, all thick hair and horns and perhaps the cutest cow you’ve ever seen.

“Ye can get close. She’s very sweet.” Lily says, patting Mabel on the side.

You step up to her, holding out a hand. “Hello Mabel.” You say, Mabel nosing at your hand for a moment. You pet her nose, feeling the coarse, thick hair draped over her face.

“She’s due for a haircut.” Lily says, brushing some of the hair to the side so Mabel can see better. “And she’ll start sheddin’ soon.”

“I love her.” You say, scratching Mabel between the horns.

“Yer welcome tae come out here whenever you’d like.” Lily says. “Mabel comes and goes out of her barn as she pleases. She’s good for some cuddles when you need some love.” Lily grins at you. “She’s a great listener too.”

You smile, continuing to pet Mabel.

You might just like living on a farm after all.

You had stayed with Mabel even after Lily had gone into the house to start on dinner. It wasn’t even lunch yet, but still she insisted on starting early for a proper Sunday roast. Lily had been right about Mabel being a good listener. She hadn’t minded you hugging her, leaning your weight against her body, petting her hair as you told her all of your woes and fears. Storm had stayed in the field with you, running around before settling in the grass with a stick.

Storm followed you back to the house around lunchtime, when you’d left Mabel with a pat and a promise to come back tomorrow. She hadn’t given much of a response, but somehow deep down you knew she understood.

“Will ye wipe her feet with the towel, hen?” Lily called from the kitchen when you entered with Storm.

“Yeah,” You say, spotting the towel hanging near the door. Storm stands dutifully, letting you wipe most of the mud off of her feet. She licks your face before heading for the kitchen, abandoning you for the prospect of food. You don’t mind. Your stomach is growling too.

“How many sandwiches would ye like, hen?” Lily asks, bringing a platter of chips and vegetables to the table.

“Just one.” You answer. She gives you a sideways glance. “I could probably eat two though.”

She smiles. “Two it is then. I won’t have ye going hungry here.”

You don’t doubt she means that.

“Murray’ll be in, in a bit.” She says, setting a plate of two sandwiches in front of you before taking the seat across from you. “He can make his own.”

“I could make my own too.” You suggest quietly.

“Nonsense.” Lily says, waving away the idea. “Yer a guest. I’m more’n happy tae feed ye.”

“Thank you, for doing all of this.” You say, taking a bite of your sandwich.

“Of course,” She says, grabbing a carrot off the platter. “John said ye were havin’ trouble bein’ on base. I wasnae gonna let ye live somewhere ye weren’t comfortable. Besides, I’ve been excited tae meet ye, get tae know ye.”

“I’ve been wanting to meet their families too.” You say. “I’ve met Kyle’s sister but that was it before now.”

“Aye, those Garricks are something special.” She says.

“They really are.” You grin. “Like perfect angels.”

“Indeed.” She says.

Silence falls over the table as you eat, Storm sitting by your side on the floor, staring longingly at your food. You’re tempted to ‘accidentally’ drop a piece but you’re not sure if that’ll be allowed so instead you try and look away, ignoring those big puppy eyes staring into your soul.

Murray comes in right before you finish eating, toeing off his boots at the door. His pants are splattered with mud, as is his shirt as he pulls off his jacket.

“Yers are in the kitchen.” Lily says, finishing off her own sandwich.

“Thank ye, love.” He kisses Lily’s cheek before heading into the kitchen.

“I hear ye like tae read.” Lily says, turning back to you.

You nod. “Yeah, I do.”

“Well help yerself to any of the books on the shelves. The kids have some books in their rooms too. Yer more’n welcome tae browse those too.” She says, standing from the table. She takes your plate, heading to the kitchen as Murray comes out with his own plate of sandwiches.

“Did ye have a good mornin’?” He asks, taking his seat at the head of the table.

You nod. “I got to see the chickens and met Mabel.”

“Good.” He smiles. “Mabel’s a sweet old girl.”

“She is. I’ve never been around animals, outside of a few petting zoos.” You say. “But I already like Mabel a lot.”

“Aye, we’ll turn ye into a farm girl in no time.” Murray grins. “Ye can see the sheep when I bring ‘em in later too.”

“I’d like that.” You say.

After lunch you settle into the couch with a book pulled off one of the many shelves in the room. Storm has joined you, curling up beside you with her head in your lap.

“That dog really likes ye.” Lily says as she joins you, pulling out her knitting.

You smile, petting Storm’s head. “I’m not sure why.”

“Dogs are good judges of character.” She says. “She senses something in ye.”

You scratch behind Storm’s ears as silence falls over the room again and you return to reading your book. You wonder if it’s really true, if Storm can sense something about you that’s drawing her in. Whatever it is, you’re glad she likes you. It could be the opposite, you suppose. She could dislike you. You wonder what that would say about your character if that were the case.

Regardless, you’re growing to find her presence comforting. The entire house is comforting, despite the turmoil you still feel inside. The farm is a good distraction, but in these moments of silence you know you’re going to struggle the most. These moments where you have to be present, you have to face down the truth that you’re hundreds of miles from your pack and there’s still a couple weeks before you’ll see them again...before you’ll see John again. It’ll be just you and John for a while. Then Kyle will join you. Then you’ll be three separated from the two others.

It breaks your heart that they won’t retire, but you’d never admit that.

Maybe someday they’ll make that decision, but you know it won’t be anytime soon.

You shift on the couch, Storm lifting her head before settling back down, adjusting herself so she’s even closer to you than she was before, almost as if she can sense the shift in your emotions.

You scan the photos on the wall in the hallway. You’ve been roving around waiting for dinner to be ready, taking in all of the artwork and the many photos decorating the walls. Photos of Johnny and his siblings as kids, family portraits, artistic shots of the farm and the animals and the kids with them. You’ve even found a framed photo of Storm and Bron on the wall.

You pass by a shadow box decorated with military medals and stripes. You’d almost assume it was Johnny’s but you know he’ll still wear his when the occasion requires. No, these are Murray’s. Chief Petty Officer MacTavish.

“You served?” You ask as the man himself rounds the corner.

He pauses, glancing at the box before nodding. “Aye. Royal Navy. Joined as soon as I graduated. Didnae know what else tae do with myself. I was forced to retire when Johnny was still a lad. Hip injury.” He smiles as he stares at the medals. “Moved the family out here, bought a few sheep, rest is history.”

“You must be proud of Johnny then.” You say. You can piece together that his father’s history with the armed forces played a role in his own decision to join.

“Aye. Though his job scares the piss out of me sometimes.” He pats your back. “I hear your own father served.”

You nod as the two of you walk down the hall. “Marines.” You say. “I can’t imagine him doing anything else. He was...very patriotic. Spent a lot of time preaching the necessity of giving our lives to protect the country to us kids. Two of my three older brothers joined too. The rest of us went on to do other things. I never thought I’d be back in it, though.”

“That must have been a shock.” Lily says as the two of you arrive at the table. She’s setting a pan of roast beef on the table. “I can only imagine what it was like tae leave that world only to be right back in it.”

“I was in deeper than I was with my dad.” You say, taking your seat. “It was an adjustment, but I’ll honestly say I’m glad I’m getting to leave it behind.”

“I don’t blame ye one bit.” She says, taking a seat at the table. “The stress is unimaginable, even when they’re not goin’ off tae war.” She passes a glance at Murray. “I’m glad yer gettin’ this chance.”

“Aye, I’m proud of John fer retiring. It’s time he settled down.” Murray says, staring to load his plate.

Roast beef, mashed potatoes, vegetables, yorkshire pudding. A proper Sunday roast, or so you’re told.

“You know him well?” You ask curiously as you start to load your own plate.

“Aye, he’s been here a few times since Johnny joined his pack.” Murray says.

“We were skeptical at first, but he proved himself alright.” Lily says. “He’s a good alpha, and a good man.”

“But whatever magic ye worked tae get him to retire…” Murray grins. “Consider it an act of god.”

You smile bashfully, your face warming just a bit. “I’m not sure what I did exactly, besides just existing in his life.”

“Sometimes that’s all a man needs.” Lily says, giving you a smile.

The Sunday roast is delicious. It’s better than what you ate at restaurants in town during the weekends that John insisted everyone go out for Sunday dinner. It’s even better than your own attempts at the cottage, though you’d never tell Dr. Keller that.

You’ll have to get some recipes from Lily before you leave.

After dinner the three of you settle in the living room again, Murray turning on the TV. Storm lays at your feet, Bron laying between you and Murray. You’ve got a beer in your hand, cold where it rests against your leg. Murray hadn’t even asked, instead passing one to you silently. You’d taken it, knowing it would be rude to refuse. It’s not your first time drinking by far. You and your brothers used to sneak sips here and there during barbecues and holidays, and the guys have made sure to corrupt you in that way.

Still, the alcohol makes you feel warm as you drink it, chasing away the nerves that nightfall brings.

A lot of things can happen at night, and you can feel the looming darkness outside. It’s darker here than on base, no light pollution to offer some respite from the inky blackness outside.

You’ve been avoiding looking at the windows, even with the curtains closed.

Despite the nagging fear at the back of your brain, the beer makes you feel warm and fuzzy. That, and Storm’s comforting presence against your feet. It’s nice knowing there’s someone that will sense something off before even you can.

It’s late by the time you decide to call it a night. Storm follows you to your room, standing in the doorway as you pull clothes out of your bag.

“C’mon Stormy.” Lily says, patting her back. “Goodnight, hen.”

“Goodnight.” You call, watching Storm hesitate before heading down the hallway with Lily.

You get ready for bed before turning out the light, crawling under the covers. You can still smell a bit of Johnny on the pillow and blankets. You breathe in his spicy, citrusy scent. It blends with the earthy scent of John on your shirt, offering up a comforting cocktail of your boys. You wish they were there still in person, but you’ll take their scents.

You wonder how long it will be until they fade away. You doubt they’ll last the entire time you’re here.

You grab your phone from the nightstand, pulling up John’s number. He had texted you earlier letting you know they made it safe, but you need to hear his voice. You listen to it ring, holding your breath. It’s late, and you half expect him to be in bed already. He has an early morning tomorrow, unless he decides to skip working out...you doubt he’ll do that though, now that he doesn’t have you to worry about.

“Hello, sweetheart.” His voice is rough, tired sounding.

“Hi,” you greet him quietly quietly, letting out a breath. “Did I wake you?”

“No,” There’s rustling on the other side of the line. “I was laying awake.”

“Same.” you say, pulling the covers up around you.

“How are things going up there?” He asks.

“Good.” you answer honestly. “I met a cow today.”

“Did you?” he chuckles. “How did that go?”

“Good. I really like her. She’s a good listener.” you listen to his chuckle on the other end. “Storm has also really taken to me.”

“Good,” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice. “Lily and Murray treating you alright?”

“Yeah,” you say, rolling onto your side. “They’re amazing. Lily’s a really good cook. Makes me feel sorry for you that you’re going to have to eat my cooking.”

“Your cooking isn’t that bad.” He says. “I survived on it at the cottage.”

“Yeah but that was only a couple times. I can make like three things confidently.”

“Then we’ll learn together. We’ll only have to survive until Kyle’s paperwork is approved. Then he can cook. It’ll be good for him, having something to do.”

What are you going to do? You want to ask it but you’re not sure how well that will go over. What is he going to do once he’s retired? Maybe you can convince him to start a farm. It would be good for him to have some physical work to do every day. He’s used to never having a day off, and you don’t get days off on a farm.

You’ll worry about that later, when the time actually comes.

“How are things down there?” You ask. “How are the boys.”

“Coping.” He says. “Johnny pouted the entire way home. It’s not the same being just us again. We got so used to your presence it feels empty.”

A small smile forms on your lips. “It feels weird not having you here with me. I’m not sure I can survive.”

“I think we can make it.” He says. “It’s only for a couple weeks at most. By the end you’ll be sad to leave.”

“I do like it here.” You muse. “It’s cozy and comfortable and I like having animals around. Wish you were here though.”

“Soon.” He says, muffling a yawn.

“You should get some sleep. Early morning tomorrow, right?”

He hums. “Earlier than I’d like.”

“Ready to retire?” You ask.

“I can feel it coming.” He says, and you can hear the smile in his voice. “You should get some rest too. I know you didn’t sleep well last night.”

You likely won’t sleep well tonight either, but you won’t tell him that. You don’t want him to worry more than he already is. “I never sleep well the first night in a new place.”

He hums again. “Goodnight, love.”

“Goodnight, John.” You say quietly, holding the phone to your ear until he ends the call.

You stare at the screen for a moment before setting your phone on the nightstand once more. You feel more comfortable now after hearing John’s voice. It’s soothed some of the nerves churning in your stomach. He’s just a phone call away, and soon he’ll be back within reach. Just a couple weeks at most. You should be able to survive that.

You hope you will.

You do manage to sleep.

There’s light coming through the curtains when you wake, and you can hear the faint clacking of dishes down the hall. You squint blearily at your phone. It’s past nine. You’ve slept in later than you meant to. They’re early risers, being on a farm and all. You realized that yesterday when you heard them moving around before dawn.

Here you’ve gone and slept in.

You get up, changing clothes before heading to the bathroom.

Lily’s in the kitchen when you get up, still a bit bleary from a rough night’s sleep.

“Morning, hen.” She says, turning from the dishes when she hears you patter in.

“Sorry, I slept in.” You say, rubbing your eyes.

“None of that now, yer a guest. Ye can sleep in as late as ye’d like.” She says, waving her hand. “I’ve saved some breakfast for ye. Let me heat it up.”

“You don’t have to do that.” You say.

“Of course I do. I want to.” She says, pushing you out of the kitchen. “Juice or coffee?”

“Juice is fine.” You say, taking a seat at the table. Storm comes over to you, pawing at your hand. You give her some pets, scratching behind her ear.

“Here ye are.” Lily says, bringing you a plate loaded with eggs and sausage and toast. She sets it down in front of you along with a glass of orange juice. It’s probably freshly squeezed.

“Thank you. It looks delicious.” You say, picking up your fork.

It tastes delicious too. You never knew a simple eggs and sausage and toast could taste so good. Lily must work magic in the kitchen. That can be the only explanation for how wonderful she can make even the simplest food taste.

You slip on your borrowed boots after you finish eating, following Lily out into the yard again. Storm trots along beside you, tongue hanging out in excitement.

“Ye ever driven an ATV before?” Lily asks you, and you notice one parked next to the gate just past the fence. You hadn’t noticed it yesterday.

You shake your head. “No.”

She pats your shoulder. “I’ll teach ye soon. I’m gonnae go grab some hay from the barn for Mabel. Ye go on ahead and start givin’ her a good brushin’.”

Lily opens the gate to the pasture where the barn sits before climbing on the ATV. You open the other gate to Mabel’s pasture, Storm running through as soon as its open. You leave it open, passing the chickens on your hike up the small hill to where Mabel stands, looking like she has no care in the world.

Her brush hangs in her small barn and you grab it off the wall. Her hair is thick and coarse, the brush catching on a few tangles. You’re careful not to pull too hard, working the knots out gently.

Lily arrives on the ATV, towing a small trailer behind it stacked with bales of hay.

“Come and help me unload this, hen.” She says, climbing off the ATV.

You shove the brush into your back pocket, treading through the grass to the stack of hay bales. Lily tosses you a pair of gloves, something you’re grateful for as soon as you put your hands on the hay. It pokes at you, a few pieces even sticking you through the gloves.

It’s also heavy.

Your arms shake as you lift one of the bales, just managing to get it up off the stack. You heft it the few feet to the barn, stacking it on top of the others. Lily lifts the next bale, making it seem almost easy.

“They’re heavy.” You say, letting out a breath as you return to grab the next one.

“Aye.” Lily says with a grin. “We’ve got tae get yer muscles built up. Turn ye into a proper farm girl in no time.”

You’re out of breath by the time the last bale has been stacked, a few small scratches on your arms where you’d pushed up the sleeves of your sweatshirt to avoid getting hay in the fabric. Somehow you’ve still managed, feeling the small pokes even through your jeans.

“Keep workin’ on Mabel, I’m gonnae take the trailer back.” Lily says.

Your arms feel like jelly as you grab the brush out of your pocket again, returning to brushing Mabel’s back. You knew you were out of shape compared to what you once were, but you think even if you weren’t that would have been a struggle. Farm work is hard and you’ve barely had a taste of it. It speaks volumes of just how strong Johnny’s parents are that they can do this every day.

Lily returns, walking up the hill to where you are. “We refill her ‘bout once a week.” She says, patting Mabel’s nose. “Can’t keep all of it here, or she’ll eat it all.”

You grin, Mabel’s head tilting as you brush a spot on the side of her neck. You’re getting covered in cow hair, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

“She’ll be sheddin’ her winter coat soon.” Lily says running her fingers through Mabel’s hair, picking out a few chunks. “Things get very hairy up here.”

You laugh, brushing under Mabel’s chin as she tilts her head up for you. “I can imagine.”

“I’m gonnae go find Murray, ye stay out here as long as ye like.” She says, patting your shoulder before heading back down to the ATV.

Storm stays in the pasture with you again, happily laying in the grass while you finish up brushing Mabel.

You lean against her side, resting your head on her back. “We’ll be okay, right?” You ask, not expecting an answer, and you don’t get one aside from a loud cluck from a chicken.

You head back into the house, Storm following you. You toe off your boots at the door, wiping down Storm’s feet before heading into the living room. You pick up the book you had been reading from the coffee table, settling on the couch. Storm jumps up beside you, sitting there staring expectantly.

You stare back, tilting your head. “What?”

She puts a paw on your leg, sniffing your cheek.

“Oh alright.” You put your book to the side before scratching her neck. She leans into you, licking your arm as you scratch her. “You’re so soft.” You say, hugging her against your chest as you scratch down her back. “Must have gotten a bath recently, huh?”

You kiss her head before releasing her, going back to your book. She curls up next to you, leaning against your leg. You drop a hand to rest against her back, feeling her comforting warmth against you.

The days go by and you settle into a bit of a routine on the farm. You start to wake up earlier and earlier, adjusting to hearing Lily and Murray up and moving around early in the morning. You’re still not sleeping well, but you are managing to get some sleep at night.

John’s called every day, wanting to know how you’re doing, how you’re settling in. It gets easier and easier to tell him you’re doing alright, as you start to believe it. But no matter how comfortable you get in Lily and Murray’s home, there’s still a deep ache in your chest, a yearning for your pack, for your alpha.

You thought it might be weird being around an unknown alpha, but Murray has been careful to keep himself from being overbearing and overwhelming. Sometimes you forget he’s an alpha, but his strong scent reminds you every time you smell it. He’s not like any alpha you’ve been around before, but then again, you think he has Lily to thank for that.

You don’t know many alphas that chose to take beta mates over omegas. It was so unheard of in your circle of friends and family friends growing up. Your father surrounded himself with like-minded alphas, traditionalists that prided themselves on scoring a prize omega who could give them pups.

You suppose John had taken a beta as his mate, but you know that dynamic is different, and it became even more complex once you were added into the picture. Maybe John would have wound up more like Murray had it just been him and Kyle in the long run.

A beta’s soothing presence is enough to calm and alpha’s instincts over time. It probably helps that he’s older, those instincts less strong now than they would have been likely just a few years ago. You know alphas calm over time, those instincts settling as they get older, as they settle down.

You wonder how long it will take John’s instincts to start settling now that he’s retiring out of a high-stress job.

You’ve taken to being on the farm and helping out more and more. Mabel has become your lifeline, your stand-in therapist. It’s a bit healing, laying against her side, telling her how much you miss your pack, how nervous you are about this new chapter in your life, how fast things seem to be moving. You’ve only been with your pack for just over a year now and already so many things have happened, so many things have changed. She may not be able to offer much in terms of conversation or advice, but it’s still comforting to have someone there who can listen and not judge.

You’ve even come to know the chickens a bit, gathering eggs a couple times when you’ve gotten up early enough to beat Lily to it. You’ve had your fingers pecked more than a few times, but you’re growing fearless around them, shoving the broody ones to the side to grab their eggs.

A week goes by before you know it, settling into the clock-like rotation of life on a farm. It’s comforting to have a schedule, to always have something to do. It reminds you of being on base, of conforming to the guys’ schedules. You prefer this kind of schedule and work, though.

Maybe you can talk John into a farm. It would be good for him, help him settle into civilian life where you don’t have someone telling you what to do...or where you’re not the someone telling others what to do.

You wake early on Sunday, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you lay in bed for a moment. It’s early, but still you hear Lily and Murray moving around. You feel like dragging your feet this morning, but you don’t, sliding out of bed before grabbing clothes.

“Morning Stormy.” You say, greeting the dog laying at your door. She’s taken up vigil in the mornings, laying there waiting for you to get up.

You pat her head before stepping over her, heading for the bathroom. Lily had done some washing for you, despite your insistence that you could do it yourself. She was keen to do as much for you as possible. She said she misses being able to mother someone. Murray won’t let her. He’s stubborn like that.

You head for the kitchen, Lily already up with breakfast at the table.

“Mornin’ hen.” She greets you, pouring coffee into a mug. Murray is at the table as well, sipping his own cup.

“Morning.” You say, taking your seat and the offered mug. “You’re up early.”

“It’s Sunday. We’re goin’ tae Mass today.” Lily explains.

You hadn’t really thought much about it, though you should have guessed given the candles and the crucifix on the wall that they were religious. The idea of Johnny being raised Catholic is hard for you to grasp.

“Did ye go to church growin’ up?” Murray asks you as Lily sets a plate of food in front of you.

“Not really.” You say. “Mostly just Christmas and Easter.” As patriotic as your father was, he didn’t pay much mind to religion. Sundays were for beer and football and a good dinner.

“We try tae go every Sunday.” Lily says. “Though we don’t always make it.”

Like last Sunday, you think. They had been busy with helping you get settled in.

“Gives us an excuse tae go into town.” Murray says.

“We’ll do some shoppin’ while we’re there.” Lily says. “Get ye anythin’ ye might need too.”

You’re not sure what you might need. You thought you had brought enough to last you the couple weeks, though something tells you Lily is going to find something you need. She had said something about getting you a proper pair of boots. You wonder what else she might decide you need.

Church went well, although you had no idea what a Catholic Mass was like, nor what you were supposed to do, but you followed along well enough. Shopping afterward had gone as you expected. You got your new pair of boots, strawberry printed, and Lily had decided you needed a couple new pairs of jeans. It was true yours were starting to show the wear and tear of farm life, and they weren’t proper work jeans, according to her. You weren’t sure what that meant, but she hadn’t listened to your protests, buying you the pants anyway.

It was a nice, warm day so Lily had taken you out to her garden to help her set up for the spring plants she’d grow. You pulled weeds, harvested some of the last winter vegetables, dug holes, played in the dirt. It felt good doing something with your hands. It gave you purpose, something you haven’t felt in a while.

Sure, being an omega you had your purpose, but lately it had been a bit...mundane. You had been forced into the box of ‘sit there and look pretty and offer us some comfort,’ even if they hadn’t realized they were doing it. You hadn’t even really noticed it until now, until you got some space from it. Now that you were actually doing things, now that you had a true purpose, helping out on the farm, you realized just how deep you had been shoved into that box.

Maybe coming here was a good thing after all.

That night you cry for the first time. You’re not sure why. Maybe the dirt under your fingernails had awoken something in you, some deep crevasse of your emotions opening under your feet.

It’s a silent cry in the darkness, the moon bright through the curtains, bathing your room with more light than even your nightlight. You’d just hung up the call from John and suddenly tears are falling down your cheeks. You miss him. You miss them all. You’re terrified for Simon and Johnny, you’re yearning for your alpha, for your comfort. You want the bed to dip behind you, for his arms to slide around you and hold you close. You want his scent to wrap around you and permeate your being.

You’re homesick.

The magic of the first week has worn off and now you’re feeling the complex emotions that have been brewing under the surface. There’s a deep ache in your chest, harsh and painful. You curl up tight in a ball, trying to ease the pain of missing home, of missing your alpha.

You drift off into a hazy sleep, floating in and out all night until you finally manage to slip into a deep sleep for a couple of hours early in the morning.

You wake later than you would have wanted to, and for a moment you forget where you are. There’s a warm weight against your back, and for a moment you think you’re back in the barracks, that John is sleeping behind you, pressed up against your back.

But as you wake up, you remember where you are: hundreds of miles away from the barracks and John.

The sun is up, shining its golden light through your window. You turn as best you can, the heavy weight pinning the blankets down over you.

You’re met with black and white fur. Storm has somehow snuck her way into your room and curled up on the bed with you. Tears prick your eyes as you turn to face her, running a hand down her back. She lets out a sigh, shifting her body onto her side so her head rests on your pillow.

“Hi Storm.” You whisper, burying your face in her fur.

She lays there, breathing steady and even as you try not to cry, as you fight the emotions welling up inside of you again. Storm licks your hand, dragging her soft tongue against your skin, almost like she’s trying to lick up your sadness.

“Okay, okay,” You sniffle, pulling your hand away. You lay there for a moment longer, both of you still in the quiet morning. Lily must be out gathering eggs or taking care of Mabel. You don’t feel bad for sleeping in this time.

Storm climbs down off the bed as you sit up, stretching your arms over your head. You grab a change of clothes before heading for the bathroom to get ready for the day.

Storm is waiting in the hallway for you and the two of you walk together towards the kitchen. Lily is sitting at the table, reading a magazine.

“Mornin’, hen.” She greets you before looking down at Storm. “Mornin’ ye sneak. Sorry if she disturbed ye. I tried to get her back out.”

You shake your head. “She didn’t disturb me. I didn’t even know she was there.”

Lily hums, patting Storm’s head. “Ye must have needed her, then.”

Tears start to prick behind your eyes, those emotions that you thought you had shoved down starting to come back to the surface. You know Lily won’t judge you for crying, for being homesick, but still that fear of showing too many emotions starts to overwhelm you.

“It’s alright, hen.” Lily says, on her feet before you even know it, pulling you into a hug. “Homesick, huh.”

It’s not a question.

“I understand.” She says softly, patting your head as you struggle to hold those emotions down. “I would be too.”

Her hands rub your back, her scent strong in the air as she tries to help comfort you. You both know it won’t be enough, but still the thought of it is sweet. She’s doing her best to try and make this easy for you, to try and help you through the inevitable breakdown of missing your pack and your alpha. From what John has said, it won’t be long before he’s finally free of the shackles of the military. A few more days at most before he’ll be making the final drive up here to retrieve you, and you’ll move on to whatever is waiting for you on the other side.

It makes you sad to leave too, though. You’ve grown comfortable on the farm, adjusting to life here and its routine and stability. It’s kept you more active than anything, and you’re going to miss having an excuse to do more than read and sleep all day. Of course, taking care of a house will involve a lot more, but you know there’s only so much you can do even in that regard.

You want to feel useful.

You don’t cry as much as you thought you might. Your thoughts have kept you stable, ideas forming, plans putting themselves together. You lean against Lily’s chest, arms wrapped around her. You’ll be forever grateful for everything she’s done for you, even if she doesn’t realize she’s done it.

You pull away, wiping the tears from your cheeks. “Thank you.” You say.

Lily gives you a soft smile, petting your hair. “Of course, hen. Ye know I’m always here if you need a hug.”

You laugh, sniffling. “You give good hugs.”

“I’ve been told that.” She pats the top of your head. “Now, let’s get some food in ye.”

Storm sleeps in your room from then on. You’re not sure Lily could change her mind even if she tried. She’s on the bed as soon as you open the door to Johnny’s room, making herself at home. You’re silently grateful for her comforting presence, often waking cuddling her up on your pillow.

You’ve become inseparable, unless Lily is in the kitchen, then she betrays you for the prospect of any handouts. You don’t blame her one bit. You’d be in there begging too if Lily didn’t involve you as much as she has started doing. You had asked for recipes, so Lily had taken that as her excuse to start mentoring you in the kitchen, teaching you everything she knows.

You’ve been kept busy, and you’re grateful for it.

Storm follows you around as you do your chores, self-appointed chores. You fetch more hay for Mabel as she’s running low, give her a good brush to help loosen some of her shedding fur, feed the chickens and gather the eggs, pick a few of the last winter vegetables that have ripened before helping Lily make lunch.

You even get to hold a baby lamb.

You fall in love almost instantly.

Another animal to add to your list of animals to convince John to get for you.

Your last day on the farm comes with an unexpected morning phone call. Usually John called at night, but this time catches you by surprise at the breakfast table. You got up to answer, Storm following you down the hall as you speak to John.

“Hello?”

“Hello, sweetheart.” John says. “I have good news.”

You already know what he’s going to say. “Oh?”

“My paperwork was finalized this morning. I’ll be coming up tomorrow to get you.”

Nerves and excitement boil in your stomach. You’re excited that it’s finally happened, that he’s finally free and you’ll get to see him in just a few hours. At the same time you’re nervous for what this means, for this start of the new chapter. There’s also a bittersweet edge to it, from the thought of leaving the farm after the wonderful almost two weeks you’ve spent here.

“That’s great!” You say, trying to sound convincing, channeling that inner excitement.

“I’ll call before I leave so you know when to expect me.” He says, sounding almost relieved.

“Sounds good.” You say, leaning down to pet Storm as she paws at you. “I can’t wait to see you again.”

“I know. It’s been long enough.” He says. “I have to get packing, but I’ll talk to you tonight, okay?”

You nod even though he can’t see you. “Okay.”

“Love you, sweetheart.”

“Love you too.”

You walk back to the table, your stomach in knots. Excitement and nerves still race through you. You’re not quite sure what to feel yet, all of it a bit too much at once.

“Everything alright?” Murray asks.

You nod. “John’s paperwork finally went through. He’ll be here tomorrow.”

Lily cheers. “That’s wonderful news! I’m sure yer goin’ tae be happy to see him.”

You nod again. “I am. I’ve missed him.”

“I bet.” She says reaching over to pat your hand.

“But I’m going to be sad to leave too.” You say. “I’ve really enjoyed being here.”

“And we’ve enjoyed havin’ ye.” Murray says.

“Ye can always visit, whenever ye want to.” Lily says, giving you a smile. “Yer always welcome here.”

“Thank you.” You say, trying to avoid looking down at Storm and her puppy eyes. You have a feeling she’ll be the hardest to say goodbye to.

You do your chores the next morning despite the fact John will arrive in a few hours. It just feels right to spend your last day on the farm doing as much as you can, savoring your last taste of farm life. You’ll miss Mabel, and you’ll even miss the chickens despite the few little cuts on your hands from sharp beaks. You’ll miss having stuff to do. Sure, you’re going to settle into your new life easier than John will, but at the same time, you’re going to withdraw from this routine you’ve grown to follow.

You spend the time after lunch cuddling with Storm on the couch. She seems sadder than usual, almost as if she knows this is going to be goodbye for now. Even Bron is at your feet, curled in a ball as you all wait for the sound of tires on the gravel driveway. Your bags are packed and by the door, including your Wellies, ready to be taken away from this surrogate home, from your surrogate family. Well, they are your family, you suppose. An extension of your pack member.

You’re not ready to get up as the sound of tires eventually does come, Murray rising from his seat to greet John at the door. You let out a sigh, patting Storm one more time before standing.

It feels almost surreal seeing John again after nearly two weeks away. He greets you with open arms and a smile, not even waiting for anything to be said. You’re in his arms almost as fast as he opened them, pressing yourself close against his chest. You’ve been without him for longer, but this time it felt different. You were hanging over the precipice of a drastic change. His arrival has been the first step in that change, the start of a new chapter in both of your lives.

“I trust you’ve been well taken care of.” He says as you pull away.

“Very well.” You say, smiling.

“And ye better keep that up.” Lily says threateningly.

“Don’t worry, I will.” He says, giving her a hug. “Thank you for doing this.”

“It’s no problem. We’re always happy to have some company.” She says.

“Ye can visit us any time ye like.” Murray says, shaking John’s hand.

John grabs your bags, the four of you heading outside with the dogs. You hug Lily, tears falling as you say your goodbye.

“Call me.” She says, patting your back. “For anything, even just tae chat. And don’t forget to visit.”

“Thank you.” You say, wiping your cheeks. “For everything.”

“Yer welcome, hen.” She says, brushing a hand over your head.

“Thank you, too.” You say to Murray, giving him a hug as well.

“Of course.” He says, patting your back. “It was our pleasure.”

You kneel down in the gravel, giving Storm a hug. She licks your cheek, letting out a quiet whine. “I’ll see you again soon, okay?”

She gives you one last lick before you stand, giving Bron some pats before you turn away, heading towards the car. Sadness but also joy fills you as you climb into the passenger seat, buckling your seat belt. You turn to look behind you, the car full of boxes, but in the seat behind John your big bear sits, buckled in.

You smile softly as John climbs into the driver’s seat, turning to look at you before he turns on the car.

“Ready?” He asks.

You nod. “Ready.”

He turns the key, the car rumbling to life beneath you. They wave as you drive down the driveway, and you watch the house until it disappears around the bend. You turn back in your seat, letting out a sigh as John turns onto the road towards Glasgow.

“Can we get a dog? And some chickens? And a cow? And some sheep?” you ask.

John chuckles. “Let’s find a place to live, first. Then we’ll talk about that.”

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#call of duty #call of duty fic #cod fic #poly 141 x reader #task force 141 x reader #john price x reader #captain price x reader #kyle garrick x reader #gaz x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #soap x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #alpha/beta/omega dynamics #omegaverse #a/b/o

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enwoso · 2 days ago

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victory tastes like… | alessia russo (18+)

honestly got a bit carried away icl.. but this is an 18+, contains top!alessia, bottom!reader, swearing, oral (r receiving) fingering (r receiving) thigh riding (a receiving), dirty talking, a lot of build up, teasing, nipple play? i think, and more. buckle up its a long one:)

masterlist

alessia strides through the afterparty like she owns the night — and maybe she in a way does. a victorious beauty, radiant in the low light, her hair twisted into a messy bun that somehow makes her look even more effortless. her toned legs, on full display in a pair of barely-there denim shorts, catch more than a few eyes. but hers? they were locked on you.

you see her way before she reaches you, that smug, post-win glow clinging to her like perfume. she's flushed from champagne and the high of victory, lips already curled into that cocky grin that never fails to make your knees a little wobbly.

alessia doesn't hesitate, slipping through the crowd of her teammates and family members who are all dancing and singing proudly.

alessia with a predator's grace found you, a colourful cocktail in your hand as you lingered closer to the back of the group as alessia is pulling you into her.

her arm wind tightly around your waist, her body warm against yours, and her champagne flute clinks softly as it brushes your side.

"missed you," she murmurs, it slightly raspy from the amount of singing she'd done throughout the night. her lips skimming your ear, her voice a sultry purr.

you hum a soft laugh, trailing your fingers over the waistband of her shorts, slowly, deliberately your touch featherlight. teasing.

"missed me?" you echo, voice laced with mischief. "you've had your hands all over me all night, less. thought you might've gotten bored by now."

alessia pulls back just enough to give you a look — playful, dangerous. "don't tempt me," she murmurs, eyes dipping to your lips, then lower. "you're the one wearing my shirt, my name on your back, baby. what did you think would happen?"

you tug at the collar of it, smug. "i thought you might behave... at least until we get to the third round of sweet caroline."

alessia laughs, a soft, disbelieving sound, before her fingers slip under the hem, brushing the skin at your hip, nipping slightly. "keep running your mouth, pretty girl," she warns, her tone lazy, almost amused. "see where it gets you."

but you don't take that as a sign to stop if anything it makes you want to continue your teasing all the more. press her buttons more.

you shift closer, pressing yourself into her just a little too innocently, your voice honeyed as you whisper, "you gonna kiss me again, or just keep talking about it?"

her jaw clenches, her grip on your waist tightening. her eyes burn.

"you're such a brat at times," she mutters, but it's affectionate laced with tension. "are you gonna carry on messing about... or are you gonna let me take you upstairs and ruin that little attitude of yours?"

the world spins a little at her words, heat blooming low in your stomach, but you can't help the wicked grin that curves on your lips. "you always talk this big," you say, leaning in until your noses brush, "but yet i'm still here fully dressed..."

that seemed to do it.

alessia exhaled sharply, grabbing your hand in hers, and placed her champagne flute down without looking where it's ended. then she's dragging you out of the function room, ignoring the chorus of laughter and karaoke behind you coming from her teammates.

you keep teasing her, brushing your fingers along the back of her neck in the queue for the lift, leaning in just enough to let your breath tickle her skin. "bet you'd let me make a mess of you right here, wouldn't you?"

you say it soft like it nothing, just to see the flicker, the way her nostrils flare that little bit, the sharp inhale and the way her jaw clicks.

alessia doesn't respond, she knows what your doing and soon enough she knows she going to be able to have her way with you.

and then — the lift doors open.

alessia doesn't even wait for them to close before she's pressing you into the wall, the hand railing close and sharp on your back as one hand braced beside your head, the other tracing slow, promising lines along your waist.

"you've had your fun," she whispers darkly. "now it's my turn."

the lift hums softly, the world shrinking down to just the two of you, breath mingling in the tight space. alessia's lips brush against your jaw, sending a shiver straight down your spine.

alessia steps back just enough to grab your hand, fingers curling possessively around yours as she pulls you through the hallway of the fancy hotel the team was staying in. the noise around you fades, the moment narrowing to the pulse between your bodies.

the door to the room clicks shut behind you, the soft thud sealing off the outside world. alessia's bright blue eyes, darken, fierce and tender all at once as they drink you in—especially the football jersey you're wearing, a match worn one she'd given you from a few games ago. it being a little oversized on you, sleeves loose on your shoulders, the fabric heavy with her scent and the memory of the pitch.

your girlfriend's fingers trace your collarbone as she pushed you against the wall. her hands slipping beneath the edge of the jersey, warm and sure. the contrast of her touch against the rough cotton sends sparks skittering across your skin.

her hand cups the back of your neck, drawing you in until her breath brushes your lips—a low, slow promise that pulls you under.

when alessia's mouth finally meets yours, it's deliberate and searing, every inch of the kiss claiming you. her hand slides from your waist, fingertips ghosting upward, tracing the ribs beneath your shirt, lighting a fire to every nerve.

you press closer, the cool draft from the cracked window mixing with the heat of her body, until the world shrinks to the taut tension between you.

alessia pulls back just enough, breath warm against your mouth. her fingers all over you as they slip lower, tracing slow, tantalising lines along your hip bone, nails grazing just enough to make your nerves hum.

"your so pretty, my love." alessia whispers as her lips follow the path her hands set—along your jaw, the sensitive hollow beneath it. a faint, teasing lick, and you can't stop the sharp inhale that escapes from your lips.

alessia catches it with a low, wicked smile, the heat in her eyes growing. her hands settle firmly on your back, pressing herself impossibly closer.

her breath fluttering across your ear, teeth grazing your lobe, the sensation electric and consuming. slow, teasing kisses trail down your neck, each one a promise, a quiet command. every touch building the tension tighter, winding you both up like a coil ready to snap.

your hands finding her waist, pulling her closer, craving the taut strength beneath her clothes. her eyes lock onto yours, dark and fierce, sliding beneath your shirt once again, her fingers electric as they explore with a hunger that's patient and sure.

her whisper is a thread pulling you deeper: "tell me what you want baby."

you try for something cheeky, a small grin curling your lips, “you, a-always you.” you whine but before you can speak more, alessia silences you—pressing her body harder against yours, her voice low and unyielding.

"soon, baby. i promise but tonight i’m in control."

and in that moment, you head fuzzy from the amount of alcohol consumed and with the way she looked, spoke, moved you. with her hands and lips commanding every inch of you, you knew you wouldn't want it any other way.

the jersey shifts beneath alessia's touch as her hands slide higher, palms warm and steady against your stomach, until the fabric bunches at your ribs. she doesn't rush—there's no need. you're already pliant beneath her, breath coming shallow as the tension winds tighter.

alessia watches your face as she lifts the shirt, slow and deliberate, exposing inch by inch of your skin to the cool hotel air and her burning gaze. when she finally pulls it over your head and tosses it somewhere on the floor, her eyes linger—appreciating, claiming, the corners of her mouth curling like she already knows what you'll be reduced to.

her hands come back to your waist, fingers tracing the waistband of your bottoms, not dipping beneath, not yet—just the steady pressure of promise.

alessia presses forward again, hips against yours, mouth finding the slope of your neck again. each kiss lands heavier now, deeper, wetter, laced with heat and hunger.

you are trembling under her, head tipping back against the wall, exposing your throat, your chest rising and falling faster with every touch.

“le-less please, i-i need you.” you whine as her fingers trail up your side, feather-light over your ribs, then cup your chest through the thin fabric of your bra.

a sharp gasp slips from you before you can catch it—your hips twitching forward instinctively, seeking friction that she refuses to give.

you feel her smirk against your neck. "already falling apart," she murmurs. "i haven't even really touched you yet, my girl."

you let out a soft, helpless sound, somewhere between a whimper and a plea, but it only spurs her on. alessia unhooks your bra with maddening ease, too much ease, dragging the straps down your arms and casting it aside. it landing somewhere.

the air feeling sharp against your skin, your nipples already tight from want and the way her gaze roves over you—hungry, focused, reverent.

alessia kisses her way down, tongue flicking briefly over your skin, teeth grazing just enough to make you jerk beneath her hands.

but when her mouth finally closes around your nipple, you arch, a strangled sound leaving your lips as your fingers twist into her blonde hair, desperate for something to anchor you.

“a-lessi—ah—please…”

but she doesn't let you take control. one of her hands clamps over your wrist, pinning it to your side as she works you over. slow, wet licks, lazy drags of her tongue daunting you almost, sucking just enough to make you tremble.

you knees go weak, and she chuckles darkly, guiding you back toward the white linen sheets of the hotel bed with calm authority, until the backs of your thighs hit the edge and you sit without thinking. you're a mess—breathing hard, skin flushed, nerves raw.

the blonde kneels between your legs, hands running slowly up your thighs. her nails scrape lightly through the fabric still clinging to your hips, and you're sure if she asked you for anything in that moment, you'd give it without hesitation.

but she doesn't ask.

alessia watches your face as she peels the rest of your clothes off—deliberate and unhurried, like she’s unwrapping something precious, something she’s earned. her eyes never leave yours, and the heat in them makes your skin flush under the low light.

you lift your hips when she tells you to, the quiet, “up for me, baby,” sending a fresh wave of want rolling through your belly. her knuckles graze teasingly between your legs as she pulls your underwear down, and a high, desperate sound slips from your throat before you can stop it.

“fuck—less…”

she smirks softly. you’re already trembling, thighs twitching under her hands as she kneels between your legs.

she doesn’t touch you where you need it. not yet.

instead, alessia’s palms settle on your inner thighs, spreading you open with gentle pressure. the pads of her thumbs rub slow, possessive circles into your skin, warm and steady, grounding you even as you start to unravel.

you're soaked. you know it. she knows it.

you can’t help it—you whimper, a breathy, broken noise that betrays how close you already are to begging.

“less… please—” your voice cracks, soft and shaking. “d-don’t tease me…”

alessia doesn’t answer—not with words anyway. her breath ghosts over your aching core, warm and maddeningly close, making your hips jerk instinctively toward her.

you let out a strangled moan, high and needy. “god—please, i can’t take it.”

alessia hums, low and deep in her throat, eyes fixed on the slick between your legs like she’s watching something sacred. “you’re dripping,” alessia murmurs, voice rough. “so wet for me, my pretty, girl.”

your head tips back, eyes fluttering shut as you let out a soft, desperate whine. “please—less, i need your mouth, i need—”

her thumbs press in slightly, keeping your thighs open, and she leans in just close enough to brush her nose against your clit without fully touching it.

you gasp, your whole body jerking.

“say it,” alessia says, calm and low. “tell me exactly what you want.”

you’re panting now, thighs shaking under her hands. “i want your mouth—i want your tongue—please, please just—fuck—less, do something—”

alessia finally lets her lips ghost over you, the barest brush of heat and wetness that makes you cry out, sharp and helpless.

“ah—oh my god—yes—yes—”

but she doesn’t stay there. alessia lifts her head again, licking her lips slowly, eyes burning as she watches the way you squirm beneath her.

“not yet,” alessia whispers, voice like velvet and smoke. “i want you to hear you beg a little more.”

she doesn't give you what you so desperately want. not yet. instead she hovers, breath warm against the aching heat between your legs, so close you can feel the way her exhale makes you twitch, your hips lifting involuntarily toward her mouth.

your writhing beneath her, every nerve lit up, skin hypersensitive from how close she’s hovering but refusing to touch you properly. your hands reach for her, one slipping into her hair, the other gripping the sheets hard enough to hurt.

“please…” your voice is barely a whisper, raw with need. “less—fuck—please, i’m going insane…”

alessia doesn’t move. your thighs twitch in her hold, and you lift your hips again, instinctive, desperate. “i need your mouth. i need you, please, i’ll do anything.”

still nothing—just her breath against you, warm and maddening.

you whimper again, louder this time. “i’m so wet for you, it hurts. i can’t take it—i need you, alessia, please touch me.”

you hear your own voice breaking, high and wrecked, and still she just watches you, so calm, so in control. it only makes it worse.

“please,” you beg again, shakier now. “i’ll be a good girl —just please, please, don’t make me wait anymore—”

another quiet, desperate whimper escapes you before you can stop it. alessia's eyes flick up, and her mouth curls into a slow, dangerous smile. "that's better," she murmurs.

then finally, her mouth meets you where you need her most.

the first lick is slow—broad, deliberate. alessia moans low against you, the sound reverberating deep in her throat like she’s finally getting a taste of something she’s been craving for far too long. her mouth is hot, her tongue languid and sure as it slides through you, and you shudder violently, legs falling open wider without resistance.

“fuck,” you whisper, already breathless.

alessia’s hands slide beneath your thighs and hook around, dragging you closer to the edge of the bed, locking you in place. her grip is firm—commanding. there is no escape, not that you want one. alessia groans again, rough and needy, the vibrations shooting straight through your core.

“your mine,” alessia murmurs, voice low and wrecked as she glances up at you. “so fuckin’ pretty like this.”

alessia dips back down, and then she’s everywhere—tongue pressing in slow, languid strokes, tracing every slick inch of you with devastating control. she savors it, each movement precise, almost reverent, like she’s tasting your pleasure more than her own. your hips stutter, but alessia just tightens her grip, nails biting into your skin as she holds you still.

“stay there, baby,” she says, breath warm and ragged against you. “let me take my time.”

your fingers tangle in the sheets, desperate to anchor yourself. then her tongue flicks—quick, teasing, then swirling around your clit with a rhythm that’s maddening in its precision. you choke on a moan, head tossing back, thighs twitching against her shoulders.

“a-alessia—ah—fuck,” you gasp, voice cracking as your fingers leave the sheets and sink into her hair, gripping tight.

alessia groans again, louder this time, the sound guttural and needy. her mouth seals around you, sucking slow and deep, and you swear you can feel her smiling against your skin when you cry out.

“you love this, don’t you?” alessia breathes against your clit. “love being ruined on my tongue.”

you try to answer, to speak, but your body betrays you—all you can manage is a breathless whimper, hips jerking despite yourself. her tongue presses harder, faster, dragging a helpless moan from your lips, your thighs clamping reflexively around her.

alessia doesn’t relent. she keeps going, relentless, confident, mouth working you like she already knows every way to make you fall apart. the wet sounds between your thighs grow louder, matched only by the breathy little gasps and moans slipping freely from both of you. every sound she makes is a praise—raw, wanting, as though alessia’s addicted to the way you taste, the way you move, the way you sound.

“f-fuck—less…” you manage, voice all torn-up desire.

her grip on your thighs tightens again. “i said stay still,” she growls, low and possessive, licking a firm, deliberate stripe that makes your back arch off the mattress. “be a good girl for me.”

then her lips wrap around your clit and she sucks—hard and perfect—and your whole world snaps. your hands fly to her shoulders, grabbing at anything you can, fingers digging in as the tension coils impossibly tight.

“less—oh god, m’ close, i—fuck!”

alessia hums against you, tongue moving faster now, working you through the build with ruthless expertise. she feels it in your trembling thighs, the way your body rocks helplessly into her mouth, chasing every flick and suck like you’re starving for it.

your moans come out broken now—gasping, pleading, babbling messes of her name and barely-formed curses.

alessia’s hands grip harder, anchoring you as your back bows and your whole body strains toward release. you feel the burn rising, unbearable, unbearable—until it’s not.

“let go, baby,” alessia breathes, voice shaking from effort and lust. “let me hear you.”

and when it hits, it’s not soft—it’s a full-body surrender. your mouth drops open in a silent cry, your hips jerk wildly, and your whole body convulses as the orgasm tears through you like a wave. it’s hot, overwhelming, and all-consuming—her name falling from your lips like prayer.

but alessia doesn’t stop.

she licks you through it, slow and thorough, tongue dragging through your wetness like she’s cleaning you up, worshipping every shudder, every twitch. it’s too much. too intense. you whimper, breath hitching as your body trembles uncontrollably.

“mhm s-still sensitive,” you manage to gasp, twitching beneath her.

alessia finally pulls back, mouth slick, eyes dark and glittering with satisfaction. she looks at you like she’s never seen anything more beautiful than the way you’re sprawled on the bed—boneless, ruined, glowing.

“good girl,” she murmurs. “tasted even better than i imagined.”

alessia, licking her lips as she crawls up your body, slow and predatory, and presses her mouth to yours. you can taste yourself on her lips, on her tongue, and it makes your stomach twist with something deeper than lust—something sharp and consuming.

"think you've still got cheek left in you?" alessia murmurs, voice rough with want, hips already settling between your legs again.

you try to answer. but all that comes out is a whimper. and alessia grins. "didn't think so."

but alessia doesn't give you much time to catch your breath.

she stays right there, pressed against you, her thigh sliding between yours, the warmth of her body anchoring you as her mouth finds your throat again—biting gently now, claiming, leaving faint marks she knows you'll feel later.

her hands roaming without hesitation, familiar now in the way they map your body, coaxing little reactions with minimal effort.

your skin is oversensitive, every nerve exposed and raw, but it doesn't matter. you crave more. need more. wanted more. you feel insatiable under her—lit up and stretched thin and so completely hers.

and alessia knows it.

"you're, we’re not done," alessia breathes against your ear, hand sliding between your legs again. "not even close."

your thighs twitch in protest, but your body betrays you—already wet, already eager, already opening up for her again.

alessia kisses the corner of your mouth as her fingers slip through your slick heat, drawing a broken gasp from your lips. you try to lift your hips, but her other hand lands firm on your stomach, pinning you down.

"no," alessia murmurs. "you don't get to chase it. you take what I give you."

the command coils through you like lightning, and you whimper—eyes fluttering shut, breath catching as her fingers circle your clit in slow, maddening patterns. no pressure, not yet. just enough to make your whole body ache with the wanting, once again.

"a-alessia, please-"

alessia watches you unravel beneath her. every twist of your hips, every shaky breath, every bitten-off moan—she drinks it in like fuel.

"you look so gorgeous like this," alessia says, voice rough with arousal. "messy. needy. my name half-stuck in your throat."

you nod, useless, undone.

alessia pushes two fingers into you in one smooth, deliberate motion, and you cry out—hips bucking before her hand on your stomach pushes you back down again.

her rhythm is unrelenting—firm and deep, the heel of her palm brushing your clit with every stroke until you're practically writhing.

your fingers scrabble for something—her arm, the sheets, yourself. you can't hold anything steady. every muscle feels like it's trembling on the edge.

alessia leans in, her voice in your ear, low and deadly calm. "you're gonna cum again for me, my girl. just like this. don't hold it. let go."

you can't answer, not with proper words. just whimpers of her name. all you can do is feel—her fingers curling just right, the tight drag inside you, the steady grind of her hand, the fire building with every second until you're nothing but heat and helpless moans.

"a-ah, oh, less"

it crashes over you like a wave—harder than before. your whole body arches, eyes squeezing shut, mouth open in a desperate cry as the orgasm rips through you, sharp and all-consuming.

alessia doesn't stop right away. she works you through it, again, until your thighs shake and you're gasping and whimpering, begging with no words, just broken sounds and twitching limbs.

finally, finally, alessia slows.

her fingers slipping out of you, wet and shining, and she brings them to her mouth, sucking them clean with a quiet, satisfied hum.

before she crawls up beside you, her body warm against yours, and kisses you deep and slow—like she's sealing something between your ribs.

your legs are still trembling. your breath's ragged. your body feels like it's glowing from the inside out.

alessia smiles against your lips, fingers brushing the sweaty hair from your forehead.

"still think you could handle wearing my jersey again?" alessia murmurs. you manage the softest laugh, eyes half-lidded, voice nothing more than a wrecked whisper.

"only if i survive the night."

alessia doesn't let you drift far. she gives you a moment—just long enough to feel the tremble still working through your thighs, your chest rising and falling in uneven gasps.

but her hand never fully leaves your skin. it stays there, splayed possessively across your waist, thumb stroking the curve of your hip in lazy, dangerous circles.

you're pliant beneath her, loose and wrecked, and she loves seeing you like this - maybe more than she would ever admit to anyone.

"look at you," alessia murmurs, her voice thick and low as she presses a kiss to your cheek, then your jaw, then down the column of your throat again. "completely fucked out—and i’m not even close to done with you."

the words ignite something in your gut, deep and molten. you shift slightly against her, instinctively seeking friction, heat, more—and alessia laughs, a dark, amused sound that vibrates against your skin.

"oh, you want it now?" alessia teases, hand sliding down to squeeze your thigh, her fingers dragging inward, brushing the oversensitive slick between your legs. "suddenly so greedy."

you try to answer, but the sound that leaves you is more whine than word, like it has been since she's been on top of you. your hand curls into her bicep, nails dragging faint crescents into her skin, but she's not giving you any control, not tonight.

alessia shifts, rising above you—knees straddling your thigh, her own body finally pressing close, and that's when you feel it: how wet she is. even through her shorts, the heat is unmistakable, pressed against your skin like a promise you've been aching for all night.

you glance down, dizzy with want, and catch the sharp smirk on her lips as she leans down, her mouth brushing your ear.

"you feel that?" alessia whispers. "that's what you do to me."

and then she grabs your wrist and drags your hand down between her legs, pushing your fingers hard against the soaked fabric.

"take them off me," alessia growls, voice rough with need.

your fingers shake as you obey, tugging the waistband down her thighs, breath catching when you see how wet she is—slick and flushed and so ready for you.

but before you can touch her, alessia grabs your wrists and pins them to the mattress again, her hips grinding down against your thigh, drawing a low groan from her throat.

"don't get ahead of yourself baby," alessia warns, dragging her wet heat across your skin, letting you feel how much she needs it—how close she is to unraveling, too. "this is still my game. my reward.”

and then she starts to move.

the friction is obscene—her body grinding against your leg in slow, deliberate rolls, the slick slide of her clit against your skin making your whole body tighten all over again. her breath hitches, her fingers tightening around your wrists, and you can feel how close she is to losing it.

but alessia doesn't. not yet.

alessia leans down, mouth finding yours, her kiss hungry now—open and hot and messy, tongue pressing in like she's trying to taste every sound you've made tonight. when she breaks it, her forehead rests against yours, breath mingling, both of you caught in the rhythm of her hips.

you're squirming under her, desperate for her to let you touch, to take, to give her back even a fraction of the pleasure she's given you. but she doesn't loosen her grip. alessia just keeps using you—riding your thigh like it's hers, like you are.

and fuck, you are.

your head rolls back, eyes fluttering shut, mouth falling open in a low moan as her pace quickens, her breaths growing shallower.

you can hear the slick drag of her against your skin, feel every tremble as her thighs tighten around yours. "lessi-" you gasp, voice thin and breaking.

"say it again," alessia demands, voice wrecked.

"le-lessi, please”

alessia's right there. you can feel it in the way her rhythm falters, the tremble in her arms, the desperate bite of her teeth into your shoulder as her orgasm rips through her, sudden and intense.

she moans your name like it's the only thing tethering her to the world, her whole body going rigid above you, grinding hard through the aftershocks until she finally collapses against your chest—breathing hard, skin slick, still twitching with the last waves of pleasure.

you were both shaking.

“fuck..that was,, was amazing.”

you lie there in the aftermath, her weight warm and grounding on top of you, your fingers finally freed to tangle in her blonde hair, stroking her back as you come down together.

but even as her breathing evens out, you feel her smile against your skin.

"you're not going anywhere," alessia whispers, already kissing around your skin again. "i'm going to ruin you by morning."

you lie there beneath her, limbs tangled, breath catching in quiet fits as alessia's weight settles over you—warm and solid, grounding.

her skin is damp, her thigh still pressed between yours, but now her hands have softened, brushing slowly up and down your ribs in a soothing rhythm, as if trying to memorise you all over again.

"i love you and, i’m so proud of you, always.” you whisper against her head. but alessia doesn't speak at first. just kisses the hollow of your throat, then your shoulder, then the soft space just above your heart, each one slower than the last. like gratitude. like worship.

"i love you too, my girl. so much.”

and you can't help the way your fingers continue to thread into her hair, gently pulling her closer, keeping her right there.

after a long moment, alessia lifts her head, eyes meeting yours—dark, shining, a little wild still, but soft around the edges now.

"if this is what victory tastes like..." alessia murmurs, voice rough but low, "then i want to win every award possible."

you can feel the smile tug at your lips before you can stop it, the sound that escapes you somewhere between a breathless laugh and a groan.

"that your post-match speech?"

alessia grins, dipping down to press her lips just below your ear. "no, not even close."

and then her mouth is on yours again—slower this time, but no less demanding. her kiss steals your breath, like she's tasting the high of what she just did to you—and already thinking about doing it again.

her hand slides back between your thighs, teasing, coaxing your legs apart like it's second nature. you gasp into alessia's mouth, your whole body still trembling, still so tender and open—but she knows exactly how to touch you now. how to pull you right under again.

you whimper as she slips lower, heat pooling fast in your belly once more.

"i told you," alessia murmurs, voice all gravel and promise as she disappears between you thighs. "we aren't done."

and this time, when alessia's mouth finds you again, you know two things, one that your exactly where you want to be and two that you know exactly how long this night is going to be.

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s1rawb3rry · 1 day ago

Text

Our Seashell Promises

Leave your vows… I’ll carry the ones you meant to say

synopsis: On the sun-drenched yacht, the newlyweds are on their honeymoon that’s anything but picture-perfect. Bound by family expectations and in silent frustrations, Y/N clings to her camera as a lifeline while her distant husband retreats further into his work. Until through her lens, she captures a candid moment of the yacht’s Captain...

word count: 15.8k

warnings: fluff fluff fluff, no smut, a lot of angst, toxic relationships / marriage (not between y/n and hee tho), a lot of touching and kissing, skinship

genres: rom-com (?), slow burn, mutual pining

pairing: captain!enhypen Heeseung x reader

a/n: AHHH ITS FINALLY HERE. i had this idea during winter, so i waited until summer if youre the type of reader to listen to music while reading, i suggest that you listen to lana del rey’s album “norman fucking rockwell!”. That album help and inspired me a lot during the long writing process

Taglist: @heestoleurgirl @stariekis @jaehoodies @morganaawriterr @luvashli@kireistrawberryjayla @annovaz @bambieheeseunglee @firstclassjaylee @flowerwinds @veilstqr @hoonslvr @cunty4hee @hazelira @sumsumtingz @bxcndd @sunnygirl-kait @amazzwon @hoonieyun (comment if you want me to add / remove you from the list <3)

⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯

The morning Marseille summer sun was shining down on us with seagulls cawing. We stood in line with our luggage to board the yacht, the one that my parents insisted we spend our honeymoon in. The wind blew a soft salty breeze, making me glance at my now husband, Jae.

“Can I see the tickets?” he asked, not looking up from his phone.

I hummed as a response, handing them over to him, without saying anything. He always was colder than most men, quieter than most men. But now, especially after the wedding, he’s like a block of ice. He has been glued to his phone, either typing, reading or on a call; always saying ‘it’s work’. It’s always work with him.

A part of me doesn’t push for any more answers, because it’s the same part of me that sees me as smaller than him. Jae being a lawyer and ambitious to the bone is exactly what my parents always wanted me to be. Yet, I broke their dream, making me feel like I dont have much say in whatever ‘work’ he’s doing.

Our relationship was a neat courtship my family practically orchestrated, especially after I refused to go to law school. If I don't want to go to law school and take over my father’s law firm, then my husband will. For them, it was a perfect plan: a year of dating, graduation, and then a wedding that was rushed by encouragement and subtle threats from my mother.

Now we're honeymooners, supposedly, with a trip across the Mediterranean. All paid by my parents; it’s either a grand gesture or a bribe. I can’t tell anymore. It gives me a headache each time I try to understand and anticipate their hidden schemes. I don’t even want to think about it, not right now.

Not when the gorgeous sea stretched across from me. My fingers wrap around my camera that’s strapped to my neck, itching to capture new photos. To capture the blues of the sea, the sharp contrast of sails against the sky, the worn wood of the dock.

Eventually, the queue started moving. As we were walking up the small stairs that led to the yacht, I was looking around, trying to find the fastest way that could lead me to the outer deck.

Once we were all on board and waiting for more instructions, I didn't want to waste any more time and turned to Jae, “I need to use the bathroom,” I mumbled an excuse before slipping away. It didn't matter what I said, it all fell to deaf ears anyways.

A buzz of excitement was rushing through me as I wandered the maze of the yacht’s corridors. It then occurred to me how the yacht seems much larger from the inside. Regardless, it was strangely silent for it’s size.

Eventually I found it, a wide doorway with a heavy door that led to the outer deck. A much more expansive view of the sea and the scent of salt hit me. The water sparked under the sun, soft waves could be heard with the seagulls, just much closer now. I took the opportunity immediately, pulling my camera to my face and started snapping pictures.

As I was turning around and taking pictures, my lens landed on someone. I idiotically froze, examining him from my camera. He was completely drenched, wearing nothing but swimming shorts that were hanging low on his narrow hips. His hair was pushed back with some of it sticking to his forehead in lazy waves, droplets of seawater dropping from his face and chest. He was standing above me, adjusting something on the mast.

My camera shutter clicked before I could control my finger on it, or before I could even think. The sound made him glance down, making us lock eyes. Great, not even five minutes on deck and I’m already the creep with a zoom lens. He was clearly amused, a smile on his face and a raised, questioning brow, waiting for an explanation.

“I’m so sorry — I didn't mean to — I was taking pictures of the sea and —” I stammered, trying to clear my bruised image. He started laughing, “It’s okay,” he called down, eyes twinkling. “If I’d known there was a photo shoot happening, I would’ve struck a better pose.” he teased, getting down.

Heat crept up my cheeks as I let out a shy chuckle out of embarrassment. Now he's much closer, “Name’s Heeseung,” he introduced himself, sticking out his hand, with the corners of his mouth still curved in the same playful smile. I hesitated for a beat, trying not to stare — trying being the key word — any lower than his face. I reached out and shook his calloused and slightly damp hand.

“Y/N,” I replied, returning his smile, though mine came with a side of flustered panic. The second he saw me smiling, his eyes softened, becoming warmer now.

My own eyes went down, noticing that he was now holding my hand. I cleared my throat, “I need to get back, the Captain will come any minute now.” I said, pointing to the door I just passed through. He nodded in acknowledgement, “right, right. He sounds important. Better not make him wait.” he chuckled, making his grip on my hand much looser.

He gave me one last smile before returning back to the ropes he’d been fixing. I went back through the maze of hallways, cheeks still burning, heart rattling like my camera in my carry-on.

By the time I found Jae again, he was still on his phone. Unbothered, of course. I sat next to him and started to gaze at him, in deep thought. The complete indifference is infuriating. I took a deep breath — probably out of annoyance — and looked down at my camera.

Moments later, the rest of the passengers had gathered for the Captain’s welcome announcement. As the applause started, I pulled my eyes from my camera’s small screen to look at my surroundings. There he was: Heeseung, but dressed sharply now. A crisp pearly uniform of a Captain with golden stripes stitched on his sleeves and a hat tucked under his arm.

The horror of my mistake started to dawn on me. That's definitely the same guy I accidentally photographed shirtless ten minutes ago. The fucking Captain of the yacht i will be on for months.

He moved confidently, pausing at the front of the crowd with a practiced smile. He greeted us, voice calm, deep, a little too charming for someone who commands a floating hotel. Our eyes landed on each other again, for a beat too long. He gave me a tiny, knowing smile. Like he was trying not to laugh at some inside joke only the two of us knew: the accidental playboy bunny photoshoot joke.

He dipped his head in a little bow. The kind that was half-respectful, half... teasing? In a blind panic, I smiled and awkwardly waved back.

I felt Jae’s eyes snapped at me, finally paying attention to me. However, it wasn’t affection — it was the kind of attention that prickled on my skin, cold and critical. He stayed silent, waiting until the announcement ended. When Heeseung said his final words, the yacht’s engines hummed beneath our feet, and we were off.

As the crowd dispersed, Jae’s head turned slightly toward me, jaw clenched. “So, you know the Captain now?” he accused, not really a question.

“Huh? I ran into him earlier on the deck. He startled me. That’s all.” I said, confused by his switch of moods. His eyes were drawing daggers at me, but didn’t argue. He just turned away with our luggage, “I'm going to find our room.” he said, not even giving me a glance.

What the fuck is up his ass? I stayed planted where I was, letting the sea air try to cool the heat that's rising to my face, this time however it’s from frustration and not embarrassment. I hated how quickly he could make me feel small, guilty about every ‘misstep’, forcing me to defend myself for things I shouldn't need to defend myself for. What a good note to start our honeymoon with.

I stood up and went closer to the sea, near the railing, hoping to drown out all other sounds. The blues of the sky and water were so clear, they did not seem real. But with every passing minute the tilting became stronger, longer, slower. Soft waves rolled beneath my feet, it's like the yacht was inhaling and exhaling.

Another deep lurch from the boat and suddenly, I felt like a human snow globe. My mouth went dry. My insides sloshed and my knees wobbled. I clutched the railing, my feet shifted to balance and my stomach responded with a gentle protest.

Gripping my camera, I adjusted the lens and started snapping pictures, trying to shake it off. I took a deep breath and focused on the horizon. Surprisingly the nausea went down, the camera’s viewfinder anchored me somehow.

An amused voice from behind broke me out of my own little bubble, “Didn’t expect to see you this soon. Or this pale."

I turned — a little too fast — and found Heeseung with his hands on his suit pockets. The wind tugged at his hair to free it from the tight, neat hairstyle that he had 10 minutes ago in front of the passagers.

The moment I was no longer looking into the camera, my stomach alarmed me again. “Oh god,” I whispered, holding my hand to my mouth, trying to fight the nausea again.

He stepped closer, “you get seasick?” he asked, much gentler now. I nodded miserably, “apparently,” I said from behind my hand, afraid to empty out what I ate for breakfast. He huffed a laugh, carefully reaching out for my hand to softly press his thumb against my wrist.

I gave him a look, “Unless you’re reading my palm to tell me I’m dying, what are you doing?” I asked, wary. My heart started, mortified at his closeness. I didn't know that my accidental boudoir, swimwear catalogue model would find me so quickly.

He laughed full heartedly now, “My sister used to get seasick all the time when I brought her with me. Pressing the sea sickness pressure point helps.”

“You’re weird.”

“Oh?” he tilted his head, amused that I’m arguing in this weak state of mine. “I can stop.” he jokingly threatened. I hesitated, it was actually working, “... keep pressing.”

He chuckled, putting a light hand on my shoulder, “Come on. I’ll make you some ginger tea.” he said reassuringly. I was becoming weaker because of the nausea and the embarrassment, making me just accept the idea of some tea.

He led me down a couple narrow hallways toward the galley, while the same creaking of the yacht continued beneath our feet in a steady rhythm. He was very familiar with the kitchen, putting stuff away to clear an area on the counter for me.

I dizzily watched him putting on the kettle, “I swear, if this tea actually helps, I’m going to start suspecting you’re some kind of sea witch,” I said, plopping down on a stool near the counter, surrendering to the misery of nausea to swallow me whole. I closed my eyes, trying and failing to stop the movement.

He laughed while finding a clean mug for me, “Sea witch is a new one. I usually get a pirate.” With my closed eyes, I tried to imagine him as a pirate then as a sea witch, making me fall in a fit of laughter and him joining.

Eventually the laughter died down and the kettle finished boiling. “I feel like I’ve been kidnapped and sentenced to a floating prison,” I muttered, watching him add the honey, the tea bag and then the water to the mug — each motion slow, deliberate. He moved like someone who wasn’t in a rush to be anywhere. Envy came through me, I was envious of that kind of ease. Compared to him, I was all sharp edges and a ball of nervous energy. Always bracing for the next comment, the next disappointment.

Two crewmates passing by overheard me, wearing similar uniforms to Heeseung but in navy and less golden stitched strips. “She’s not wrong,” one of them said, laughing. They started walking closer, seeing the one sided tea ceremony. “Oh, someone is seasick.” the other said, smiling. They were all clearly comfortable with each other, like a family.

“That reminds me, tell her about the time you threw up on the engine, Cap,” the other one added, smiling ear to ear. Without turning, Heeseung said calmly but with a warning tone, “Leave before I assign both of you dish duty for three days.”

They vanished with snickers echoing behind them. Heeseung finally placed a mug in front of me, steam curled into the air. “Drink slowly,” he said, “no eye contact with the ocean.” I smiled and mumbled a ‘thank you’.

I took a careful sip, “do you do this for all your seasick guests?” I pushed, flattered by the pampering.

He leaned against the counter, watching me and mirroring my amusement, “Only the ones who call my boat a prison.”

“Correction,” I said, mock-serious, “a very charming prison. With surprisingly good customer service.” I said, backing up my case. He snorted, shaking his head. He watched me take a couple of more sips, seeing the color back to my face with a smile. I guess the tea actually worked.

-⚓︎-

When I pulled my head from under the pool water, my eyes immediately found Jae. Lounging on the nearby chairs, fully clothed with a laptop open. It's been a couple of days into the trip, and it seems like the more time that passes, the more he closes into himself. Slowly becoming colder and colder to me.

I thought that rather than leaving him cooped up in our room, I could get us into the yacht’s pool. Maybe that could break the ice between us. But no, he found a chair with an umbrella and stayed far away from me.

I observed him for a moment, the frown on my face grew as I watched his rapid tapping on the keyboard. He's genuinely so engulfed in whatever he's looking at, and not our honeymoon, not me. I silently swam to the edge of the pool and hauled myself out.

I could see that he saw me walking towards me, even while he's wearing sunglasses, but he refused to acknowledge me. His lips tightened as I neared him. “Do you want a drink?” I asked, trying my hardest to put on a sweet voice.

“I'm good,” he replied harshly. Dick, if you could call that a reply. If he could, he would've spat on my face. I huffed, took my small towel and camera from beside him and walked away. Another failed attempt to save this rushed, half-assed relationship.

I started drying my hair as I walked barefoot across the teak deck to get to the outdoor bar. I smiled back at the bartender and scanned the menu quickly, “I will get a mint lemonade, please.” I finally picked. I sat on a stool chair, placing my camera in front of me. I stared at my turned off camera, letting my mind wander somewhere else while the bartender rummaged around in front of me making my drink.

What seemed like out of nowhere, Heeseung appeared next to me, cutting off my train of thoughts, “hey,” he greeted me, startling me a little. God, I was really in my mind today. He gave me that same easy smile before ordering a Coke. The bartender seemed flustered with Heeseung around. Her cheeks pink, nodding immediately at his words, her hands moving a little quicker, almost fumbling with the glassware.

“Didn't expect to see you in the pool.” he said, sitting on the stool next to me. I chuckled dryly, “didn't expect to get ignored in it either.” He raised a questioning brow at me, I shrugged in response, almost in defeat. He turned his head ever so slightly to also find Jae, still on the chair and on that damn laptop.

Silence settled between us as our drinks came. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence, just loaded. After a beat, he nodded at my camera, “any new ones? Or are you giving the camera a vacation too?”

I laughed, “not a chance, it's never on a break.” I said, pulling the camera to me and turning it on. He leaned in as I flipped through the photos I had on the memory card. He smelled like sun-bathed linen, clean and comforting. Our arms barely brushed against each other, his warmth much closer now, making my heart skip a beat.

My photos were very normal, at least in my eyes: shots of the sea at golden hour, a bird mid-flight, poolside shadows, drifting towels. Nevertheless, he was very intrigued, genuinely complimenting each one.

My fingers froze when a certain photo popped up. It’s blurry, but unmistakable: it was Jae hunched over his phone, jaw tight. I wanted to skip it, but Heeseung’s finger gently tapped the screen before I could do anything, “your boyfriend?” he asked, more like recognizing him.

“My husband.” I corrected, almost automatically. My eyes were glued to the camera’s little screen, but Heeseung's eyes scanned over to Jae again. Then it's like the puzzle pieces click together for Heeseung, “you're on your honeymoon?” he asked, softer now.

“Supposedly.” I whispered. He slowly nodded, didn't pry nor pity me, to which I'm grateful.

“Don’t worry, I have seen worse honeymoons while sailing.” he comforted, lighting the mood. I snorted, half of me believes him, the other half doesn’t. I want to push my newlywed husband into the ocean water with his laptop, how much worse can it get?

-*-

Later that evening, when I finally got into our room, Jae proved to me just how much worse he can make it. He was tense from the moment I walked in, “Where have you been?” he asked, his voice low, accusatory, again. I frowned at his clearly stupid question. Where else would I be when we’re both stuck on a floating log in the middle of the ocean?

I decided to keep that answer to myself to not make him angrier, I had enough of his bitching for today, “I don’t know… just checking out what they have on this yacht.” I responded, placing my carry on and camera on the small side table near the entry of the room.

“Dont fuck with me, Y/N. i know you were with him.” he started to raise his voice, getting closer to my face.

“Who are you talking about? I was just–”

“Don’t lie to me.” he yelled and got closer to my face, knocking over that small table in the process. His frustration boils over, raw and wild as he was fishing through his pockets for something. My eyes were glued to my belongings on the floor, to my camera on the floor.

My broken camera. The object that captured my world, now shattered and silent.

“I need a smoke,” he said before placing a cig between his lips, walking towards our room’s balcony. I sank to my knees, hands trembling as I started picking up the different pieces of my camera that were scattered across the broken glass of the lens. My eyes are glassy and unfocused from the tears, blurring the edges of everything I see.

I stepped outside of our room, feeling too suffocated inside. I needed fresh air, and if all I'm getting is salty fresh air, so be it. The narrow yacht hallways are dimly lit but the atmosphere was tense, I felt tense. I stared for a moment at the ocean, it’s not as glimmerly when the sun was shining above it. In fact, I can barely see anything in front of me.

With a heavy heart and a broken camera, I started aimlessly walking around the dock, between the quiet halls, looping back to familiar places multiple times. It was silent, not a soul in sight. Until I heard a hum of equipment above the hum of the yacht’s engine.

My eyes followed the buzz, landing on a well lit room, below the deck. The sound of tools being fiddled with was evident. This sounds exactly like a horror movie, but not a single bone in my body cares anymore. What is the point of this ‘trip’ without my camera?

I approached the door frame, and I found him, but with his back turned to me and spare parts scattered around him like puzzle pieces. I raise my hand to knock on the door, not wanting to scare him at one in the morning.

Heeseung looked behind him, frowning in confusion on who would be here at this hour. He smiled for a moment when he saw it was me, but then frowned again when he looked at my completely heartbroken, tear stained face. His eyes fall to my camera — more like pieces of plastic and metal — in my hands.

“What happened?” he asked, worry on his face, gesturing to me to come in.

I paused for a moment, not wanting to tell him the truth, “I tripped and it fell from my hands,” I lied, showing him the chunks in my hands.

He nodded without asking any further questions. “Alright, let me see what I can do.“ he said, taking the parts from me. The stark difference between Jae's yelling voice and Heeseung��s comforting reassurance made the tears spill out even more. “Don’t cry,” he cooed, his voice was gentle as he slowly pushed my hair that was stuck to my face. I feel pathetic, probably look the part too…

“Oh love, I promise it’s not worth crying over.” he whispered, taking me into his arms. I wrap my arms around his chest, silently crying into his shirt, letting his smell of sea breeze consume me. He was like a warm exhale from whatever nightmare I was living.

-*-

It's been ten minutes since I have been sitting quietly next to him, watching him treat the camera as gently and as carefully as calloused hands can be. I anxiously stared back and forth between him and the camera. The echo tools clinking together echoed through the workshop.

Finally, he sighed, running his hand through his hair, “I'm sorry, pretty. It's too far gone to be fixed.” I let my shoulders slump down in disappointment, “I guess I have to only rely on your ginger tea and that magic ‘pressure point’ trick thing.” I said flatly, trying not to sound too sulky.

He chuckled softly at that, giving me a small, sympathetic smile. “I told you, I'm certified,” he said in a fake-serious tone.

“Oh, wow. A certified sea witch. You really are something.” I mocked further, making both of us laugh. The silence that followed didn’t weigh heavy, but it was peaceful. He started to put away some of the tools he pulled out and I looked over at the only porthole, spotting the stars in the sky and trying to make out the different shapes.

“Did they ever teach you about constellation names when you were becoming a Captain?” I asked before thinking twice.

He followed my gaze through the small window, “of course they did. We went through serious, rigorous training,” he said with a firm voice, “that one is the ‘Dancing Noodle’, very rare. And that one is the ‘Pizza Slice’, my personal favorite.” he continued, talking as if he’s actually teaching me something new.

I frown at the names, really letting them sink in for a moment. Then I blinked at him, “you're making those up.” I said, narrowing my eyes at him with a smile. He chuckled, “you believe me for a second there.”

We stayed like that for a while, side by side, our shoulders just barely touching as the made-up constellations drifted lazily above us. No pressure to talk, no weight in the quiet—just an easy, quiet kind of closeness that didn’t ask for anything more.

Without saying a word, he reached over to the broken camera pieces and started to put them in a small cotton bag. I slowly joined him, “next time I drop something, I hope it's Jae’s laptop.” I mumbled, laughing at my own joke. Heeseung let out a low whistle while chuckling, “make sure I'm nearby, i might actually help you pull it off.”

-⚓︎-

A few days slipped by in a blur of sunrises and restless nights. The yacht swayed in a slow, cradling rhythm, like it was trying to rock me to sleep, like it was begging me to sleep. The past few nights, sleep barely touched me — my mind kept dragging me through a maze of torturous memories, jumping from one thought to another, refusing to let me rest.

I sat on the edge of some stairs near the outer deck, staring out to the new sunrise that is marking a new day — wishing I could capture it on my camera. I could feel my heart beating in fury when I relive that moment with Jae. My fingers nervously twist at my wedding ring — out of habit now when I think of him, yet my eyes avoid looking at it. The ring was stunning, really. Nevertheless, it makes me tense up and shiver uncomfortably each time I glanced at it.

I avoided our room as much as possible.Not out of fear of running into Jae, but because the memory of that night clung to the walls, too rough to face. All I seemed capable of was replaying our vows in my head, over and over, trying to hear some truth in them. As if listening hard enough might reveal some hidden truth I missed the first time.

I should be asleep beside my husband right now. Instead, I’m lying here wide awake, trying to remember what exactly made me say ‘yes’.

Maybe it wasn’t about love — maybe it was about proving something. My mom smiled so wide at the wedding, like it meant everything had finally fallen into place. The wedding wasn’t anything like the one I’d pictured growing up. Maybe I said yes to Jae because I wanted to prove to my parents I could still be someone they’d be proud of. They already thought I gave up on my future when I didn't go to law school. What will they say when they find out this ‘perfect marriage’ is unraveling as well?

I inhaled deeply, and held that breath in my chest for a moment before pushing all these thoughts away. I allowed my feet to carry me forward, wandering aimlessly through the yacht’s quiet corridors, letting the hush of the sea fill the silence between my thoughts.

Until I stumbled into a small kitchen nook tucked into the side of the yacht. The soft clatter of a knife against the cutting board greets me, a little louder than the quiet hum of the sea outside. Heeseung was already there — barefoot, sleeves rolled to his elbows, hair still tousled from sleep. There’s a calm ease in the way he moves, like he belongs here, like the ocean is second nature to him. The morning golden light spills across his features.

For a moment, I just stood there, watching him and his smooth chopping — unsure if it’s the sway of the yacht or the sight of him that makes my heart flutter.

“You have a staring problem,” he teased but not once looking up.

I let out a breathy laugh, the humor catching me by surprise, a stark difference from the ruminating monologue that has been going off in my mind, “comes with being a photographer,” I said, trying to match his tone.

He looked up from the strawberries he was chopping, his small smile was warm as always. “Are you hungry? I can whip something up — personalized, gourmet, five-star level,” he said playfully, but the offer was genuine. “I thought you just drove the boat,” I said, stepping closer to lean against the counter.

He chuckled, “tour guide, chef, mechanist… comes with being a Captain.” he said, holding up a strawberry near my lips. I opened my mouth and took it without thinking. My lips brushed his fingertips for the briefest moment, sending a quick, unexpected rush through my chest. As I chewed, the sweetness burst on my tongue — and so did the realization of how close we were.

“You’d be surprised how many emergencies want to happen before 8 a.m.” he went on, like nothing had happened. So either meant he didn’t notice... or he was very, very good at pretending. Is an actor also on the list of required competence to be a Captain?

I gave him a look, one eyebrow raised. “Define emergency.”

With a grin, he leaned back slightly to get some other fruits from behind the counter, “once had a guest call the front desk at 5 a.m. screaming about a ‘hostile sea creature’ in her room.” I blinked, completely curious now.

He snorted, remembering the story, “it turns out a poor fish had launched through her window right at the crack of dawn. She locked herself in the bathroom and asked me to ‘evacuate the beast’.”

I nearly choked on my strawberry. “Evacuate the beast?”

“Oh, she wanted me to bring the radio back up like it was a hostage situation.”

I was laughing now. Really laughing, the first time in days it didn’t feel forced. “And did you save the day?”

“Of course, Captain of the year.” he said, placing a hand dramatically over his chest. He then looked at me with that calm glint in his eyes, “so, in comparison, you're a dream guest.”

I chuckled, “A dream guest who spends her days sulking around your yacht.” I admitted, guilt dug deep in my chest for always being the Debbie downer. He shrugged, “You laugh at my jokes. That buys you at least three stars.” he said, disappearing behind the counter.

“Oh yeah? out of how many?” I challenged, leaning my elbow on the counter, chin in my palm. “For you?” He called from down below, “three stars out of three stars.” playfulness in his voice being evident. Something about the way he said it, so light and easy, made my heart dance and lifted the heaviness from my mind.

The shine of the dawn sun came through the big windows near us, the ray of light hitting my face and my wedding band that is still circling my finger. My smile faltered just slightly. Before I could get lost in it again, Heeseung reappeared and tapped the cutting board with his knife. “Come on, helper. If you’re staying in my kitchen, you’re getting a task.”

I snapped out of my daydreaming and gave him a mock salute. “Yes, chef. I mean Captain, I mean chef.”

He rolled his eyes, laughing as he slid the cutting board my way. “Start with that before you get promoted to anything sharper.” he said before turning around to start something on the big stove.

I pondered on my ring for a minute. Without a word, I slipped it off my finger, the cool metal gilded against my skin. I tucked it into my pocket quietly, like I was setting down a weight no one else could see.

As I picked up a strawberry and began slicing, the warmth of the sun settled on my skin, grounding me. The gentle rhythm of the waves, the clink of utensils, and Heeseung humming some unrecognizable tune filled the silence between us.

-*-

By late morning, after breakfast service rush winded down, the weather starts to turn. I stood outside, a little away from the other passengers. The skies dimed the sun to a moody gray, and the once-gentle sway of the yacht grows slightly more forceful. With the wave rolling much harsher, my stomach twists sharply, warning me. I blinked hard, trying to breathe through it, steadying myself against the railing. If that dick didn't break my camera…

That's when my phone buzzes in my pockets with my ring still in there. I delved in my jean shorts, scrabbling and trying to focus my vision to see who it is.

"Your father and I were watching the wedding videos again. I hope you're remembering to smile more in your photos. you looked tired in the last ones.” - "mom <3", delivered 10 sec ago

I stared at it, the words tilting something loose inside me. Something about it… the timing, the usual perfectionism wrapped in love. It shouldn’t sting, but it does. It all makes my throat tighten and burn even more. The nausea surges like a tide. Eventually, it all came out. The motion of the sea and the weight of everything on my chest finally tipping over.

Then, footsteps.

Heeseung appears, calm but concerned. His brows furrowed as he spotted me hunched near the trash bin. Bless whoever designed this yacht for having a trash bin here.

He doesn’t say anything. Just kneels quietly and sits besides me with hesitation. One hand gently sweeped my hair away from my face and the other one held a small towel to my mouth to clean up. “How hot do I look right now?” I muttered with a voice hoarse, trying to muster a bit of humor through the haze of nausea.

He gave a crooked smile — soft, endeared, “If this is you at your worst, then I’m in trouble.” he said, still dabbing gently away at my chin.

A fragile pause stretched between us, he sat next to me while I clutched my stomach. I swallow hard, having everything hit me like a brick wall. Then, as if a switch had flipped, My eyes let quiet, inevitable tears slip down my cheeks. I didn’t bother wiping them away. They're not from sadness, but from exhaustion. I leaned into his shoulder, too tired to think twice about it. “I’m sorry…” my voice barely over a whisper.

He wraps an arm gently around me, and presses a soft kiss to the top of my head. “Shhh,” he murmured, his voice steady and low. “There is nothing to be sorry about.”

-⚓︎-

The clock ticks somewhere, soft and distant. I finally sunk into the sheets of our bed, the feeling of loneliness hit me — though fatigue was stronger. Heeseung pushed me to go to sleep many hours ago… maybe twelve hours? Or was it ten? I can't remember how long I was outside. All i do remember is him walking me to the room, brushing my hair and putting me to bed.

The sheets were cold, and still looked untouched on the other side, Jae’s side. There was a trace of him through a faint smell of his cologne and his cigs that was clinging to his pillow.

I slowly sat up with my head pounding, syncing with my heartbeat that I could feel behind my forehead. The soft glow of his phone screen barely illuminates the dark room, the time stares back at me: 3:11 a.m. I could see Jae’s silhouette out on the balcony, the tiny flare of his cigarette being the second source of light.

My eyes burn from exhaustion that I can't quite sleep off. So I just roll over, hugging my pillow for warmth and deliberately avoiding his. Avoiding him. His smell was repulsing enough for me now. I could hear his phone buzzing, altering him for a notification. Every ding felt like a punishment, a reminder of how easily he could stay connected to the world — just not to me.

The days started to officially blur together, two weeks of mindlessly walking around the yacht, quietly watching the sunrises and sunsets alone, picking at meals, my only source of conversation being the bartenders and servers. I started feeling like a host more than a guest on this yacht.

It was simple, really. I fell into a routine: during the day I'm alone on the deck, during the night I would pretend to sleep while he slips into the room late, smelling like salt and smoke. He’s like a stranger now — someone just passing through.

“You don’t even try to lie anymore.” I said before I could stop myself. Though it was barely above a whisper, it barely left my lips. He lets out a tired breath, annoyed more than anything else, “don’t start, Y/N. Not now.” he said before a click of a door, disappearing again.

He made clear, time and time again, that he’d already emotionally checked out. It felt like a punch to the chest, which was funny. I felt the same and did the same, but it still hurts. Being forgotten by someone you didn’t even want to marry should’ve been easier.

-*-

One early morning, I found myself curled up on one of the lounge chairs, knees pulled to my chest, barely awake. A half-full cup of cold coffee rested in my hands. The ocean stretched endlessly ahead, quiet and soft in the pale light of dawn. It looked exactly the same as it had yesterday… and the day before. And yet, I stared like it might eventually show me something new.

The yacht was docked near a quiet island. It was like a pause in the yacht’s slow route. The sea was clearer out here. Less churned up. Bluer, like it hadn’t been bothered in hours. It felt like the world had finally lowered its voice.

Footsteps padded softly across the deck, not rushed or hesitant. I didn’t have to look up to know it was Heeseung. He stopped beside me, “that coffee’s seen better hours,” he said softly. I turned my head and found him tilting his head a little, studying me. His hair damp and curling slightly at the ends, like he’d just come from a rinse or a swim, again. He wore a plain white T-shirt, a little too thin, already catching the breeze and clinging lightly to his skin.

“So have I,” I mumbled, giving him a small, tired smile. He returned it — gentle, not too wide. Just enough to let me feel it. He glanced toward the horizon and then back at me. “Come swim with me.” he said, quietly, like a suggestion, not a demand.

I blinked up at him. “Right now?”

He nodded. “There’s a spot I know here. It’s quiet. Clear water.”

I looked down at my coffee, at my bare feet curled against the chair and at the sky that hadn’t quite woken up. “I’m not exactly good company right now,” I admitted with that kind of honesty that slips out when you’re too tired to filter anything.

“That’s okay,” he said, his voice low and kind. “I figured misery loves company, and I’m excellent company.”

I let out a soft breath, almost a laugh. I nodded and then pointed toward the cabins. “Give me five minutes. Maybe six. I have to remember where I planted my bikini.”

He grinned, the expression soft and grateful, “I’ll start the boat.”

A couple minutes later, I found him standing outside and waiting for me. His arms crossed, pretending not to look impatient, but failing just a little. The morning light brushing against his profile like it had missed him too. As his eyes met mine, he gave me a once-over. Not in a way that made me shrink, just a quick scan to make sure I was awake enough, here enough. He stepped closer to the edge, making me take his warm, offered hand so I could step off onto a smaller boat.

As we pulled away from the yacht, the noise of the world seemed to fade even more. There was no harsh engine roaring, just the hum of the sea and the occasional creak of the boat shifting beneath us. The breeze brushed through my hair, letting me take a deep breath. We didn’t talk much, but it wasn’t silence I hated. I sat across from him, arms around my knees, watching the ripples we left behind.

“Are you always this mysterious?” he asked after a minute, his voice light but not mocking. He never took his eyes away from the steering wheel or the ocean, “waking up early, staring at the sea.” I glanced at him, the wind teasing a strand of hair into my mouth, “Only when I haven’t slept properly in two weeks.”

He made a face that was part wince, part sympathy, “insomnia is one hell of a bitch.” he said, much quieter. “What about you?” I asked, shifting to face him a little more, “haven’t seen you in a minute… “ I threw back the questions at him. Honestly, I miss his presence more than anything.

He smiled, a little sheepish while his eyes were still on the horizon. He gave a small shrug, “Had a few shifts, maintenance stuff…. steering that floating palace doesn’t come with an autopilot button.”

“Mm,” I said, “so you have been avoiding me.” I continued with a teasing voice. He looked at me, frowning, genuinely confused. “Now, why would I avoid you?” I smiled a smile that didn't reach my eyes, “I don’t know… maybe because I’m becoming annoying to be around.”

He tilted his head slightly, immediately shaking his head. “You’re not. You’re just full.”

“Full?”

“Of thoughts,” he said, nodding understandingly, “Stories. Feelings. Things you don’t say out loud.” I blinked, then grinned. “Okay, Dr. Freud. So you’re a captain, tour guide, chef, mechanist… and a psychoanalyst. How long is your resume?”

He laughed, head tipping back slightly, the sound carried off by the sea breeze. I laughed too, this time without holding anything back. The kind that came from somewhere small but real, somewhere I hadn’t reached in a while. We didn’t say much after that, the silence between us settled easily. Just the water lapping at the boat with both of us soaking in the sun.

Eventually, Heeseung slowed the boat with a practiced flick of his wrist, easing the throttle down until the engine softened to a low purr and then quieted altogether. The boat drifted for a moment, rocking gently in the clear water. He squinted slightly out at the horizon. “This is the spot,” he said quietly, as if he didn’t want to break the calm. The world around us felt hushed, just the endless blue and the faint call of seabirds somewhere far off.

He stood up then and tugged his shirt off in one motion, revealing a lean back scattered with faded freckles, the kind of tan that came from years at sea, not vacations. He tossed the shirt onto the bench behind him and stepped to the edge of the boat. Then, without a warning, he dove cleanly into the water, slicing through the surface with ease.

I followed to the edge, letting my feet slip into the water below. It was cool, sharp and soft all at once. My eyes trailed after Heeseung as he swam effortlessly through the glittering water. The sun caught his wet hair while he had an unguarded grin on his face. After diving back in the water, he resurfaced near my feet, shaking his head and splashing water onto me in the process. “You know these are trying to kill each other, right?” he asked, wadling closer.

“Huh?”

“Your anklets,” he said. “Here, hold still.”

Before I could argue, his hands were already gently at my ankle, fingers deftly working the knots apart. I quieted down and watched how gentle he was with me. My eyes fell to his face: the curve of his lashes, still damp from the water; the way his brows furrowed slightly in concentration. The sun made his skin glow warm and gold, and I could see the faint trail of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, like he was holding back a thought he wouldn’t say aloud.

I wasn’t used to this kind of attention — quiet, thoughtful, without expectation. I wasn’t used to someone looking after me in ways that didn’t have to be spoken. His fingers brushed against my skin as he finished undoing the knot, and I felt that touch everywhere.

“That's a cute one,” he said, holding one of my anklet’s charms between his fingers, “th little star… looks like it’s been with you a while.” I glanced down at the worn out charm, a bit dulled at the edges. “Yeah. My mom gave it to me when I was sixteen,” I said, the words coming easily, “she said I always had my head in the clouds, and this was supposed to keep a piece of the sky with me.”

He looked up at me then, his expression soft and focused, “she sounds like someone who paid attention.”

My next words sat heavy on my chest, “my parents did in their own way. Her and my dad…” I hesitated, “they both had their ways with everything. They were loud and messy. Nothing was ever quiet with them. Two lawyers being married isn’t easy…”

I laughed quietly, “but they love each other. A lot. there was never a moment where I doubted that they wanted each other.” I said, feeling the weight of the contrast between my situation and theirs press against my ribs. I looked away and then down at the water lapping against the side of the boat.

There was a pause. The kind that wasn’t awkward, just honest. He let the charm go gently, his fingers brushing against my skin one last time. “But not with Jae?” he whispered, almost afraid to bring up the topic.

“With him…” I said, taking a deep breath, “I think him and I are the opposite of my parents. Our relationship is quiet, we never really fought. He is the lawyer, I was the business student who really just wanted to take photos for a living.” I gave a half-laugh, mostly laughing at myself, “my parents run a firm together. Big, loud courtroom people. They wanted me to follow in their footsteps, take over one day. But I didn’t want that for me. Photography was the only thing that ever felt like mine.” I paused, eyes on the horizon, “we made a deal, a common ground for everyone: I go to business school and keep my cameras as a hobby.”

I glanced at Heeseung, then looked down again at my feet in the water, “I started dating Jae near the end of my days at uni. He didn’t even tell me he was studying law at first. I found out a couple months in. My parents found out too. They adored him — like finally, a win in their eyes. And when we were both close to graduating, they really pushed for this marriage. Told me it made sense. Said I was lucky and shouldn't throw this chance away.”

A beat passed. “And I guess I thought that agreeing to marry him would fix things with my parents, or at least keep things from breaking more. If I couldn’t give them the daughter they wanted, maybe I could give them the son-in-law they adored. So I said ‘yes’.”

I let the words settle between us. “I didn’t realize how much of myself I’d lose in the process.” I swallowed. “I liked him, I really did.” I said, much softer.

He was quiet for a long moment, I could feel that he was in deep thought. “You know…” he broke the silence before pushing himself up from the water to sit next to me on the edge of the boat, “there is a kind of grief from when you do everything right, but things still end up in the wrong place.” he said, his voice was low, intimate. I looked at him, but his gaze was on the water.

“My dad was in the navy,” he continued with a faint smile on his lips, “Whole family thought I’d follow. Even had a spot lined up in a maritime academy. But I hated those uniforms, the structure, being told how to breathe.” He chuckled, “so instead, I worked every odd job I could until I bought my first boat. Treated her like my first born.”

I snorted at that, making him shoot me a mock-offended look before laughing himself, “she broke down every third week and sank twice. But she was mine, so I pushed through,” He glanced over, meeting my eyes. “Until I figured out how to do this full-time. Climbed my way up to become a Captain of a yacht… but if I’m being honest, there are things I haven't mastered yet.”

I smiled, a little surprised. “That’s brave of you to drive the damn yacht then,”

He laughed, “maybe. Or maybe I was just stupid enough to not care and still did it.” he said before looking over at me. His voice softened again, “but you… you care. You tried to carry all of it: your parents’ hopes, Jae’s silence, even your own guilt. Like you’re sorry for not wanting the life they picked out for you.” My breath caught slightly in my chest. “But you don't owe them your whole self,” he added, “loving people doesn’t mean burying parts of yourself for them.”

I smiled, “that easy, huh?” playful sarcasm laced my voice, but his words rang in my head. He gave a shrug, eyes warm. “Worth a shot.”

I looked at him for a moment, “even when you say the opposite, you always sound like you’ve figured it all out,” I said. He laughed under his breath, shaking his head, “I’m winging it constantly. The only thing I’m halfway decent at is pretending I know what I’m doing.”

I smiled, “you fake it well.”

There was a pause, then he glanced toward the water, a softness settling into his expression, “there’s one person I try not to fake it with, though.”

“Oh yeah?” I asked, nudging him lightly with my knee. “Who’s that?”

“My little sister,” his voice dropped a little, like he was letting me in on something private. “She is living back home with my mom. I helped raise her for a bit.”

My smile faded into something gentler, “You don’t talk about her much.” I said. He nodded, “yeah, I don’t. She's too precious for that. She's smart, moody, sharp as hell. You know, the full teenage package.” He looked down at his hands, then grinned, “I keep writing to her about how many times i fuck up, but she also thinks I got it all figured out.”

“Writing?” I asked, blinking. He looked sheepish, “yeah. We write to each other, like actual letters.”

Seeing the Captain who gives orders to his crew being this sentimental was unexpectedly charming. I smiled softly, “that’s adorable.” He shrugged like it was nothing, but the way his fingers absently traced the edge of the boat said otherwise. “She tells me about her crushes. I tell her about the ‘hostile sea creatures’.”

We laughed together, the sound light between us. “I like that,” I said quietly, “you writing letters.” He turned to me again, this time with a small smile that reached all the way to his eyes, “you saying that makes me want to send one to you, just to prove I’ve got good stationery.”

I raised an eyebrow at him before giggling, “sounds like an excuse to get me as your pen pal.”

-*-

Spending the whole day with Heeseung hadn’t exactly been my plan. After sunset, the night wrapped around the island like a soft blanket while the sky was a vast canvas of twinkling stars. Hee had roped me into joining the crew’s beach bonfire with a very persuasive smile and arguments. The crew had gathered a fire pit on the beach near the edge of the sand, letting its flame start crackling. A handful of passengers lounged nearby, their laughter and chatter blending with the gentle sound of waves kissing the shore.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. I glanced at it to find it to be a message from Jae.

“taking a call” - "J.", delivered 1 hour ago

Just those simple words and nothing else. No follow-up, no check-in, no ‘wish you were next to me’ messages like he used to when we first dated. I stared at the screen for a second longer than I should’ve, then tucked it back into my pocket without replying. I refused to think about him, tonight wasn’t for him.

Hee introduced me to the crew, it was with easy smiles and no formalities — just nicknames and laughter. One of the crew members leaned in to me once she saw that Heeseung had turned his back to us, “so you’re the one our Captain’s been all mysterious about,” she said with a genuine, excited smile while handing me a stick with a perfectly speared marshmallow.

Another crew member was sitting next to us chimed in, “Cap’s got a type.” he said, grinning over his beer bottle.

I chuckled, a little flustered, trying to come up with something to say but Heeseung beat me to it. “Keep talking,” he warned him with sharp eyes, but there was humor under them, “and I’ll have you scrubbing the deck until sunrise.” The group erupted into laughter, that same crewmate groaning dramatically.

The rhythm of the waves and firelight could be heard next to their teasing. I leaned back slightly, absorbing the setting. Maybe it was how no one here asked about my credentials, what I studied — or my complete lack of a job. Maybe it was how the air felt softer on this island, or how I hadn’t smiled this much in weeks. I'm not sure, but it allowed me to let myself just exist. Not as someone’s daughter, not as someone’s wife — just me.

The fire crackled loud and golden in the middle of our little circle on the beach, casting flickering shadows on everyone’s faces. I kicked off my sandals, feeling the cool, soft sand sift between my toes. I settled closer to the fire with my stick that had a slightly charred marshmallow. The sweetness melted in my mouth as laughter bubbled up from inside me — light, unexpected and utterly freeing.

For the first time in what felt like weeks, I wasn’t thinking about Jae, or my parents, or the ring still hidden in my drawer. All that mattered was the warmth of the fire, the softness of the night.

Hee was right in front of me, sitting casually on the made shift benches with his legs stretched out, his eyes never leaving me. There was something in the way he watched — quiet, steady, like he was memorizing me and the way the firelight flickered in my eyes. He was impossible to ignore. I caught him once, and he gave me a small, shy grin, the kind that made my heart skip just a little.

Eventually, someone from the crew jumped up. “Alright! I suggest a ten-minute crab hunt. Whoever brings back the biggest crab wins a ‘no cleanup duty’ pass for the next three nights.” Some people groaned and others laughed, but they all scattered into the darkness with makeshift flashlights and empty cups. Within seconds, the bonfire was mostly empty. I stayed seated, completely focused on making the perfect s’mores.

I caught him watching me again, “planning to write a letter about my marshmallow roasting skills?” I teased.

The fire crackled between us, casting gold along his jawline as he smirked. “I’m trying to infer how you like your s’mores,” he said. The fire rustled between us as I caught the sparkle in his eyes that made my heart race just a bit faster.

I glanced at the sad marshmallow bubbling on the end of my stick. “I don't like them burnt,” I explained, pointing to the stick. “They need to be in this ‘slightly touched’ zone, you know? Like golden. Perfectly golden.”

“Hm right, right.” he said, leaning in slightly to inspect, “but… I think you’re in the ‘charcoal’ zone.”

I gasped. “Oh, fuck off! Stop distracting me!” I said, taking off the fire as he tried to stifle a laugh. “You’re sabotaging,” I muttered, trying to take the marshmallow off the stick only for it to fall into the flames, catching on fire completely.

“Here,” he said, reaching over and offering his own — perfectly golden, like he’d been roasting it with a slow kind of intention. “Take mine.”

I smiled and took it slowly by sandwiching his marshmallow between graham crackers and chocolate squares. It melted slightly at the edges, giving it that gooey look. He watched me with that same quiet amusement, his chin resting on his hand like he had all the time in the world just to roast marshmallows for me.

I lifted it to my mouth and took the first bite. I couldn’t help the soft groan that escaped, “okay, wow,” I said, covering it with the back of my hand. “That’s actually stupid good.” Without thinking, I turned to him and lifted the s’more up. “Here. You have to try it,” I said, holding it out between us.

He hesitated for half a second, then leaned in, biting right next to my own bite. His hands closed gently around mine, steadying my grip on the s’more while his lips brushing just past my knuckles. He chewed thoughtfully, “Mm, you were right.” he said in between bites.

As I was beaming in pride at my s’mores, he reached up and flicked a tiny smudge of chocolate from the corner of my mouth, his fingers lingering. I caught his gaze with my cheeks heating up. Slowly, he slipped that chocolate trace into his own mouth, a satisfied smile was clear on his lips, “looks like you’ve got chocolate,” he teased softly.

I laughed, trying to calm down my fast heart beat, “guess I’ll have to keep you around to clean up my messes.”

He raised his brows, a slow, amused smile tugging at his lips. He definitely heard and understood something else. I realized the gravity of my word vomit, “oh my god, no! I mean—no, not like that! I just—" I said, digging myself deeper and stumbling over my words.

Mortified, I groaned and buried my face in my hands. “Oh my god,” I mumbled into my palms, “I’m never speaking again.” My skin burned, my shoulders curled inward like I could disappear right into the sand. All I could hear was his laughter as he wrapped an arm around me, pulling me gently into his side. I didn’t resist, I just let myself fall into the space he made for me. The sound of the fire clattering filled the night air, mingling with the steady rhythm of his heartbeat pressed softly against my shoulder.

-⚓︎-

The days are passing by more gently now. I found myself lingering near the crew more often, picking up the inside jokes from the kitchen staff, helping arrange coffee cups when I got bored. It was easier than being alone, easier than sitting in a room that still smelled like a stranger.

I would also helped Hee with breakfast… sometimes even lunch and dinner if I’m being honest. He started taking me around to the little shops and markets on every island we stopped at — weaving through narrow aisles of handmade jewelry, coconut soaps, woven sarongs, and sun-bleached postcards.

He never rushed me. Just watched me browse, fascinated, occasionally holding things up and asking my opinion on them. I didn’t mean to spend so much time with Heeseung. Our moments weren’t planned, they just… happened, like we were accidentally orbiting each other.

One night I sat outside on a bench of a quiet deck at the back of the yacht. The stars were soft above me, and the sea was unusually still, like it was holding its breath. I had my knees tucked up under me, a tiny bottle of nail polish — a soft, ocean-glass green that Hee picked out ‘because it reminded him of seafoam and me half-asleep’ — balanced on the wood between my ankles. I’d gotten two fingers done, smudged but salvageable, before things started going sideways.

“Is this a manicure or a wrestling match?” a voice called, warm and familiar. I looked up to find him walking over, arms crossed and grinning.

“I’m trying,” I sighed with a smile, holding up my left hand. He came closer and sat in front of me, settling down right in front of me, the bench wide enough so that my legs fit between his. The closeness was becoming natural, his knees lightly brushing mine. “Want me to help?”

I hesitated, only for a second, before nodding and handing over the tiny bottle. He took it gently, and then took my hand just as gently. The way he cradled my hand was tender yet deliberate. He fell into silence as he focused, I watched him more than I should have. “Are you good at this because you have a sister?” I asked, tilting my head slightly.

He glanced up, smirking, “keeping notes on me?”

“Maybe.”

When he finished, he didn’t move away. Instead, he leaned in a little, blowing softly over the fresh polish. As his fingers were still holding mine, I looked up where I met his eyes. Everything slows down, just enough to make a decision.

He was leaning in closer to my lips, I couldn't seem to pull away. So I lifted my index finger and pressed it gently against his soft lips, stopping him from getting closer. My heart practically sprinted in my chest at this point. “As much as I want to…” I said, voice barely above a whisper, “I’m still married.”

“I know…” his voice was quiet, carrying a weight that made the space between us feel fragile. His eyes held no anger or bitterness—just a quiet sadness, silently mourning a future that might never be.

With a small, almost apologetic smile, he added, “I’m not trying to be the reason you forget that,” he finally let go of my hand, the warmth slipping away. “But I can’t keep showing up like this, not when I’m starting to fall for you. And I think you already know that.” His words hit harder than I expected, my breath hitched again.

He reached into his pockets, “I brought you something,” he said, and pulled out a camera. It was older, not sleek or shiny, but clearly loved — scuffed around the edges, worn in a way that felt personal. “It’s not fancy,” he admitted, placing it gently in my hands. “But it’s mine. Thought maybe… you’d want to take pictures again.” I stared at it, speechless.

By the time I looked up, he was already walking away, the soft deck lights casting a shadow behind him. I stayed there, sitting in the quiet while the camera felt heavy in my lap. A lump formed in my throat, and I felt tears gathering at the edges of my eyes. Tears I didn’t know if I wanted to shed or hold back.

-⚓︎-

He’s been watching me from a distance for maybe a week — never close enough to speak, but always near enough that I can feel his eyes on me. He probably thinks I don’t notice, but once you’ve grown used to his attention, it’s hard to ignore it. I see it in the little things, like how he would leave the kettle of ginger tea waiting for me in the kitchen, my spot on the outer deck always arranged how I like.

However, the air between us stays heavy, thick with all the things we’re both too afraid to say aloud. Like we’re carrying a weight neither of us wants to name. Since that night — the night of ‘almost’, where we didn’t quite cross the line — there hasn’t been a single word exchanged. A silent barrier has settled between us.

One afternoon on the deck, while I’m adjusting the lens of his camera, trying to focus and stay focused, I catch movement in my periphery. I glance up, and there he is. Heeseung, standing on the upper deck, bathed in pale light like the day itself hasn’t quite decided whether it wants to be soft or sharp. His arms are crossed over the railing, eyes already on me. Our gazes collide — just for a second before I look away.

The silence between Jae and I had always felt empty. Like two people ignoring the fact that they’d built a life on top of separate islands. But the silence between Heeseung and I does not feel empty. It feels like questions and answers we are too afraid to ask and respond to.

Even from far away, even without a word, he sees me more clearly than Jae ever did.

I sat in my cabin alone that evening, the ocean murmuring just beyond the walls. The little camera sat warm in my hands, his camera. I had only meant to scroll through the shots I’d taken earlier that day: a dock at sunrise, a blur of passing sails.

But somewhere along the way, I must’ve flicked too far, because suddenly I was looking at photos I didn’t take. They were older ones, tucked into the memory card.

The first was a blurry photo of a girl standing on a rocky shoreline, maybe his sister? or someone close? She’s caught mid-laugh, hair tangled by the wind, the kind of candid photo that feels like a stolen moment. Then a handful of quiet landscapes with the soft curves of a dock.It all felt like a time capsule that I had no clue what was inside. I kept clicking, slowly, as if each image might say something he never told me out loud.

And then, a self-timer shot. Young Heeseung, covered in sand, smiling crookedly and sitting beside a half-repaired boat engine. He looks lighter there, like the weight he carries now wasn’t on his shoulders yet. Something tugged in my chest, sharp and strange. I stare at that photo for longer than I should. It feels like a glimpse of someone I’m only just beginning to understand.

My thumb hovered over the button to keep scrolling, but I stopped — feeling like I cracked open his diary without meaning to. This feels too private for me to continue looking at. So I just turned the camera off and didn't dare delete a single photo.

-⚓︎-

Another evening, we were back in our cabin after dinner. The kind of dinner where we barely spoke and I just pushed food around my plate. Jae had excused himself to take a shower. I nodded, barely looking up from my phone, though I hadn’t really been looking at anything, my thumb kept scrolling through nothing. The silence between us stayed in that familiar state.

He left his phone on the nightstand, as usual. Face up with the screen black. I didn’t look at first. But the moment the bathroom door clicked shut behind him, a notification popped up. I don’t know why I froze and just… stared at it. but something in me stirred, low and uneasy. My heart thumped, like a quiet knock against a door I didn’t want to open.

Curiosity isn’t always innocent. Sometimes, it’s instinct. Sometimes, it’s the body begging the heart to wake up and listen.

My fingers moved before I could reason with them. Just check, prove yourself wrong. That’s what I told myself as I picked it up. It was completely unlocked. I have never checked his phone before during college. Not even once. I never had a reason to, he never gave me a reason to.

But I wasn’t wrong. Her name was saved so neatly under ‘Coworker’. Of course, what a dumbass move. The messages were all there, unfolded one by one. They were scattered, careless.

“Had fun last night.” - "me", delivered 2 weeks ago

“Wish I was waking up next to you.” - "me", delivered 1 month ago

“Can’t wait for when she’s not around.” - "Coworker", delivered 1 week ago

I sat there frozen and reading them. Message after message. Pet names. Late-night plans. My eyes burned before the tears even started. Then came the photos, from him and her. Her body posed, shared like a secret. The kind of photos you send when you're sure someone wants you. He did, he wanted her.

My chest cracked open. I didn’t cry, not yet, but I could feel something inside me crumble. My breath hitched, sharp and involuntary, and I swallowed down a sob — not loud, but it cracked through me like a branch snapping under pressure. Just enough that if he was listening from behind the door, he would’ve heard.

The shower turned on a second later. Loud and unbothered.

I stood, slowly, wiping at my face with the back of my hand. “I’m going out for air.” I called out, my voice came out small and shaky. Nothing from him, just the sound of the water. I'm not even sure if he heard me, I don't even care anymore.

The door clicked shut behind me with a softness that didn’t match the way my heart was breaking. I stepped out into the open night, barefoot and numb, the hum of the yacht beneath me like a ghost’s heartbeat. The deck was quiet, empty. Everyone else was tucked away in their cabins, blissfully unaware.

The air was thick with salt and warmth, a strange mix for this late in the evening. The breeze was gentle, brushing past me like it already knew I was fragile tonight. He really fucked me over once i was finally feeling somewhat okay.

I walked until I reached the railing, curling my fingers around the cool metal. The sea stretched out in front of me — black, endless, glittered faintly with starlight. It felt like looking into something eternal, something that swallowed secrets for a living.

My chest ached in that dull, splintering way. The tears didn’t fall yet, they just sat there heavy. I didn’t know how long I stood there like that — body still, soul unraveling — until I heard footsteps behind me.

“I figured I’d find you out here,” Heeseung said, his voice as gentle as I remember it. didn’t turn around. I couldn’t. My glassy eyes were glued to the water like it might pull me in and keep me.

My voice barely came out when I whispered, “He’s cheating.”

Heeseung didn’t move at first. Just stood there, jaw set, his hands curling slightly at his sides like he didn’t trust them not to do something reckless. He walked toward me slowly, carefully, like I might shatter if he moved too fast. He looked at me like he wanted to say a hundred things but wasn’t sure where to start.

Then, without a word, he reached up and cradled my face gently between his calloused hands. His thumbs brushed beneath my eyes, catching the tears I didn’t have the energy to hide. “Oh, sweetheart…” he murmured, “you didn’t deserve this.”

And God, the way he said it. Like it physically hurt him to witness it. Like if he could’ve taken even a fraction of it off my shoulders, he would’ve done it without thinking.

My throat tightened then my knees nearly buckled. He pulled me into him before I could fall apart completely, his arms wrapping around me. Like he’d been waiting to hold me long before he was ever allowed to. I buried my face in his chest and cried — really cried. I feel like nothing could’ve prepared me for that. The beteral was a sharp stab into my heart, my lungs, my stomach, everywhere.

Eventually my sobs calmed down, but my tears didn’t stop. He continued to hold me, not saying anything and just brushing my hair with his hand.

In the quiet that followed, a soft melody floated through the air from afar. Faint romantic jazz tune started playing, reminding me of warm candlelight and open windows. Probably leftover from the dinner service playlist.

He shifted slightly, just enough to speak into my hair, “wanna dance?” he asked. I blinked up at him through tears, half-laughing, half-sniffling. “You’re joking.”

But he wasn’t, he gave me that little crooked smile of his. “Completely serious.” I stared at him… this man with the softest eyes, the worst timing and maybe the best heart.

“You do realize I have the coordination of a baby giraffe, right?” I said, raising a brow. “That’s okay,” he murmured, already taking my hand. “I’ve always wanted to dance with a giraffe.” A laugh bubbled out of me before I could stop it.

We swayed gently and stupidly on the deck, offbeat. The music was too slow for how fast my heart was racing. The moon hung low, silver and swollen above us, like even it had paused to watch. His hand fit so easily against my waist, like it belonged there.

I tripped over his foot once and laughed, heat rushing to my cheeks. “You’re doing perfect,” he said softly before spinning me, making my stomach flip. I landed back in his arms and looked up, he was already watching me.

“Can I kiss you now?” His voice was low, careful but honest. I giggled, breathless. Like I was a teenager again, falling for someone for the very first time. I nodded.

When he kissed me, all the tangled knots of doubt and guilt that had been twisting inside me suddenly loosened. In that moment, nothing else existed — just the softness of his lips and the quiet promise that I deserve this kind of gentle kindness.

-⚓︎-

The hallway outside the cabins carried that familiar, soothing scent: a mix of saltwater and aged teakwood. I had just stepped out from the crew’s rec room, the faint echo of laughter still on my lips. It wasn’t loud laughter — just the kind that slips out when you finally forget how heavy you’ve been feeling.

I started turning a corner completely forgetting that it led to our shared room, making me almost crash right into someone. Into him, Jae. I stumbled back a step, startled. His body was rigid, blocking the hallway like a wall I hadn’t prepared to face. His eyes locked onto mine instantly — sharp, burning, already full of accusation. He didn’t even blink.

“Where the hell were you?” he snapped, the words had been sitting on his tongue all night, waiting to bite.

“I was — just talking to —”

“With who?” he cut me off, his words lashed out like a whip. “That Captain again? You think this is funny? Are you trying to humiliate me in front of everyone?” His voice was low to not cause a scene but it was still cruel, laced with something uglier than anger.

I flinched, stepping back as my heart began pounding in my chest. The corridor suddenly felt too narrow, too quiet. “We’re married, Y/N, remember that?”

“I haven’t done anything wrong,” I whispered. He scoffed, eyes narrowing. He subtly shifted in his posture, his hand wanting to reach and grab my arm.

“That’s enough.” said a voice from behind me — calm, but with a cold edge that sent a shiver down my spine. I turned and saw Heeseung standing there, his eyes locked onto Jae with an intensity that didn’t scream anger, but radiated quiet control.

Jae’s sneer deepened as he met Heeseung’s gaze. “Oh, you again,” he spat, voice thick with disdain. “This is between my wife and I.”

“Not when it happens on my boat.” Heeseung stepped forward, his tone sharp as a knife. “You’re not raising your voice at anyone here. So either you leave now, or I’ll personally escort you back to your room.” Heeseung took another step closer, creating space between Jae and I, voice dropping even further into an absolute command. “And it’s ‘Captain’ to you.”

The air thickened with silence, heavy and suffocating. Jae’s jaw clenched tightly, his eyes flicking between Heeseung and me, weighing his options. I drifted a little closer to Heeseung’s side, like my body already knew where safety was. After a long beat, Jae spun on his heel, muttering a curse under his breath as he stalked away, the echo of his footsteps fading down the hall.

Heeseung turned toward me, the hardness in his gaze softened immediately, “are you okay?” he asked as his hands found my shoulders, firm but gentle — grounding me back into my body. I nodded, exhaling a breath I didn't know I was holding.

His eyes searched mine for a long patient moment, before he ran a hand through his hair in that restless way he had when something was bothering him. “You’re not staying in that room anymore,” he said at last. His voice was calm, but the edge of resolve in it left no room for argument. It was not a suggestion nor a question.

I furrowed my brows, confusion blooming. “What do you mean?”

He gave me a small, almost shy smile. “I’ve arranged a bigger, nicer suite for you. Portside. The windows are bigger — should help with the nausea.” His gaze flicked down to the camera strap resting lightly against my neck, and he added, “Better light, too.”

I opened my mouth to protest, “You didn’t have to —”

But he cut me off gently, shaking his head. “I know. But I wanted to.”

-*-

Later that night, I found Heeseung sitting quietly in the corner of the lounge, the soft glow of a single lamp casting gentle shadows across his face. He was writing a letter, his pen moving steadily over the paper as if each word mattered more than the last. The calmness in his posture made the restless sea outside feel even louder in comparison.

I settled a little ways off, careful not to disturb him. The soft hum of the yacht and the gentle rocking beneath us filled the quiet space between. Quietly, I lifted my camera and began snapping photos — the dark, endless ocean stretching beyond the windows, the way the moonlight danced on the water’s surface.

Then, I turned my lens toward Heeseung. There he was, sitting still and lost in deep thought. The soft glow of the cabin lights tracing the lines of his face, the subtle tension in his jaw, the way his eyes seemed to hold intimate secrets. There was something tender and almost vulnerable about him in that dim light, so different from the strong, commanding Captain others usually saw.

After a while, I lowered the camera and glanced over at him. The soft click of the shutter had stopped. “Do you think your sister would like me?” I asked, barely above a whisper, my voice daring to break the moment.

He paused mid-sentence, pen hovering above the page and looked up at me. A small smile tugging at his lips, “I think,” he said, eyes holding mine, “she’d love you.” I blinked, caught off guard by how certain he sounded.

“She’d ask a million questions about your camera,” he chuckled, eyes crinkling, “she’d probably beg you to teach her everything. And she’d keep every single photo you give her.” The image he’d painted lingered in my mind — vivid and stubborn in the best way. I couldn’t help the small giggle that slipped out, “she sounds amazing.”

From his smile, I could see how deeply he missed her — how much space she took up in his heart even from far away.

When he finished the letter, I stayed quiet, watching the gentle curl of his handwriting dry against the paper. Then, without saying much, I moved to the little corner printer and pulled up the shots I’d taken. The little frozen pieces of our quiet world. I printed them slowly, one by one, letting the ink set before I tucked them into the envelope beside his letter. It's like adding pieces of this quiet, shared world I wanted his sister to know about.

I wanted her to see this version of him. I wanted her to see what I saw.

-⚓︎-

A couple of months slipped through my fingers. Slowly at first, then all at once. The days stretched with ease, filled with quiet days and evenings, wandering island towns, and a sense of freedom I hadn’t realized I’d been craving. I would wake up with sea salt in my hair, my camera tucked somewhere beside me while I'm tucked in Heeseung’s arms.

Some nights, I’d quietly slip into his captain’s cabin, and other times, he’d be the one falling asleep in mine — as if drawn by some invisible thread. We’d lie there in the low lamplight, tangled under the soft blankets and sharing soft laughter. Hours would stretch and blur, until sleep pulled us under. I’d rest my head against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart as we drifted off, wrapped in the quiet intimacy of those stolen moments.

I’d fallen into a daily rhythm, one that didn’t revolve around Jae anymore. He stopped being the center of my orbit. His absence didn’t echo as loudly as I thought it would. In fact, he’d gotten off the yacht a few stops ago, saying something vague about needing to ‘handle things back home’. I just nodded, like I always had, and let him go.

I tried, for a while, to come up with reasons for why he cheated. Maybeitwas to comfort myself, maybe to make sense of why someone who promised forever could turn around and betray it so carelessly. But all it did was make me more confused and frustrated. So I let that go as well, making me able to breathe again.

I was waiting at a small day bar for my two drink orders — one for me, one for Hee — until my phone buzzed with a new message in the pocket of my shorts.

“I’ll have the divorce papers sent.” - "J.", delivered 30 sec ago

That was it, one line with no apologies or explanations. Just a clean, clinical statement like we were parting ways on a business deal. I stared at the message for a long time, rereading it once… then twice. I didn’t reply. Instead, I slipped my phone back into the pocket of my jean shorts, feeling strangely detached. The tears I expected never came; instead, an unexpected, hollow laugh bubbled up.

When I found Heeseung, he was in the middle of a story on the lower deck, surrounded by a few of the younger crew members. Their laughter filled the air, warm and unguarded, spilling out in waves as they doubled over with amusement. I waited patiently for the moment to settle before stepping closer, sliding the cool drink into his hand. Our fingers brushed briefly — a light, familiar touch that had become comforting over time. Without hesitation, he draped an arm around my shoulders, the gesture so natural it felt like second skin.

“You okay?” he asked, voice low, meant for me and only me. I nodded, “yeah.” And before I could think too much about it, before doubt had any time to creep in, he leaned down and caught my lips in a kiss. Soft, unrushed, honest. I smiled against his lips, making him kiss the edge of it.

Somehow, this made me feel more like forever than anything I had before. It hit me, somewhere between the warmth of his arm around my shoulders and the echo of laughter still hanging in the air — this was it. This was my real honeymoon.

-*-

Later, when it was just us sitting near the bow, he had his feet propped up and my thighs rested on his lap. The sea reflects burnt orange from the sun’s descent. He nudged my side with his shoulder, “be honest… was it really an accident when you started taking photos of me in the beginning?”

I blinked, caught off guard by the shift, then laughed lightly. “Are you fishing for compliments now, Captain?”

He sipped his drink, playing innocent. “I just remember you were supposed to be taking shots of the shoreline, and somehow I ended up as the main subject.”

“You looked ridiculous,” I laughed. “That was not an accident. I needed proof.”

He leaned in again, close enough that his hair brushed my temple. “So you admit it.”

I shook my head and rested back against his shoulder, “you’re impossible.”

-⚓︎-

The sun was high, the yacht gliding slow along a stretch of endless blue. Hee had been tied up with boat maintenance and supply runs the past couple days, leaving me to drift through the hours on my own and to organise our photos on my laptop.

I was curled on one of the deck chairs with his T-shirt over my shoulders and my camera on my side when an email popped up on my screen, interrupting the peace. I read the email’s subject: ‘Photography Assistant Position – Offer Letter Attached’.

I remembered applying to the job months ago — just one of many desperate clicks late at night, back when I still thought distraction might save me. I never expected a reply. Definitely not now. Not when everything had finally started to feel real.

It was nothing prestigious or glossy. But it was something tangible, mine. I read the whole email many times, and my heart twisted at each word in the way it only does when something good and something hard arrive at the exact same time.

I found Heeseung later that night, sitting alone near the back of the yacht, humming quietly to himself as he watched the waves roll and break beneath the silver wash of moonlight. I sat beside him, reached for his hands, and told him everything — about the email, about the job, about how long I’d wanted it, about how I couldn’t afford to miss this opportunity.

He listened without interrupting, his thumb tracing quiet circles over my knuckles. When I finally stopped talking, he let go of my hands only to cup my face, his palms warm and steady against my cheeks. He kissed them both — soft, slow — before resting his forehead against mine. “I’m so happy for you, my love,” he said.

And he meant it. I could hear it in his voice. Even as his words cracked slightly at the edges, caught somewhere deeper than his throat.

We didn’t really talk about what it meant. We didn’t ask the hard questions like ‘what now?’ or ‘what if…’. Instead, we promised to just enjoy the time we had left. Like it wouldn’t hurt later, like it wasn’t already starting to.

-*-

A couple of days later, we arrived at a tiny island with a quiet beach stop. The village was small, almost forgotten — no paved roads, just soft sand paths. Kids ran barefoot, their laughter bubbling through the warm air like music. I wandered alongside Heeseung, completely absorbed in the peaceful simplicity of it all. So absorbed, in fact, that I forgot to put on sunscreen.

“Hey,” Heeseung’s voice caught up to me as we passed a fruit stall bursting with ripe mangoes. He glanced at my shoulders, concern flickering in his eyes. “Your shoulders are turning red.”

I gave him a distracted smile, my eyes lingering on the vibrant baskets overflowing with ripe fruit. The colors and scents pulled me in, and I barely registered his words. Without missing a beat, he reached into my small backpack and carefully pulled out my sunscreen tube, already warmed from sitting in the sun.

He squeezed some into his hands and reached out gently, “hold still.” His fingers moved slow, soft against my skin, trailing cool across my slightly sunburnt shoulders. I closed my eyes for a moment, letting myself memorize the way he touched me.

After a few seconds, I whispered, “You missed a spot.”

Without looking up, he grinned. “You’re just saying that to make me nervous.” We laughed quietly, like we always did.

-⚓︎-

The last day stretched long and slow, the sun dipping low. The sky melted into soft pinks and yellow, casting a quiet glow across the beach. We found ourselves sitting on the warm sand, the sea whispering gently beside us. It felt like one of those perfect, quiet moments that I never wanted to end.

He turned a small seashell over in his hand, brushing off a bit of sand before holding it out between us. “Whisper a promise into this,” he said, that familiar playful smile tugging at his lips.

I raised a brow, amused. “Promise, huh? What kind of promise?”

“Anything,” he shrugged. “Just something you want the ocean to keep safe.”

I leaned in, brought my lips closer to the curve of the seashell in his hand, “I promise to never tell anyone you cried during that dolphin documentary.” He laughed, nudging my shoulder, the sound soft against the hush of the waves.

Then he took his own shell, leaned in, “I promise not to make fun of your flip-flop tan lines.” he whispered. “Oh my god,” I groaned, laughing. “They’re not that bad.”

Our laughter trailed behind us as we tossed our shells into the tide. After a couple silly promises, his expression shifted — his smile became something quieter. He picked up another shell, held it for a beat. “Promise me you’ll come back.” His voice dropped, serious but gentle.

I stared at him, heart stumbling in my chest. Without answering, I reached for a shell of my own, pressed it to my lips, and whispered just loud enough for the wind to hear, “I promise.”

He kissed me, slow and certain, like he meant to leave the shape of his lips behind for when I was gone. His hand curled gently around my cheek, thumb brushing just beneath my eye like he was memorizing me, again, for what it seemed like for the Nth time ever since I told him about me leaving.

When we pulled apart, we dug a shallow hollow in the warm sand. Carefully, we placed the two shells in the little nest we’d made — his and mine. A small, secret vow tucked into the earth. And as the waves crept closer and the sky deepened into dusk, I found myself hoping, truly hoping, that the ocean knew how to keep that promise.

-⚓︎-

The port looked softer in the morning light. Everything was bathed in that delicate, yellow hush that only early hours seem to know. As if the world was holding its breath for just a little longer. Heeseung had already helped load my duffel and suitcase into the back of the taxi with a thud from the trunk. Behind him, the yacht swayed gently with the tide, quiet and steady — like it knew it was time to let go as well.

He stood a few feet away, hands tucked in his pockets, his expression unreadable. Not quite smiling, not quite sad. When he finally stepped forward and pulled me into a hug, he held me a little too tightly — the same way he had last night as we fell asleep. His arm wrapped around me like he was afraid I might vanish in the dark, unsure when he’d be allowed to do so again.

Right against my ear, he whispered, “If I said ‘I love you’, would it make this harder?”

I swallowed hard, the words catching somewhere in my throat. My fingers clutched at the fabric of his uniform — the pearly white collar warm beneath my hands, familiar now. Safe. I blinked fast, the world blurring at the edges. He pulled back just enough to look at me, eyes searching, flicking between mine.

“We will say it next time we see each other. And we will mean it then, too.” I said, trying my best not to cry. I refused to let his last memory of me be of me crying. My breath left me in a quiet, aching rush. I reached for him as his lips found mine, before I could fall apart completely. This kiss was wrapped in promise, gratitude and love that arrived too late, but still managed to bloom anyway.

It took everything in me to step back. My arms felt heavy, like they didn’t want to leave the space. He didn’t try to stop me. Just reached for my hand one last time, the way he always did, and pressed his lips to the back of it, soft and lingering. When he pulled away, I felt the slip of paper between my fingers.

A folded letter. “Read it later,” he said quietly. His smile wavered — still tender, but this time, it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

I started to reach into my pocket, fingertips brushing against the familiar shape of his camera. “I should give this back—” I began, but before I could finish, he gently covered my hand with his. He didn’t say anything right away, just shook his head. “Don’t,” he said softly. “It’s yours now.” His thumb brushed over my knuckles.

He opened the taxi door for me, his fingertips grazing my back as I slid into the seat. The door closed with a click that felt too final, echoing. The engine hummed to life beneath me as I saw his face one last time. Through the glass, I saw him step back. One hand raised, a small wave. Just before I turned the corner, he brought his fingers to his lips and kissed them, then blew the kiss toward me.

A few minutes into the drive, I couldn’t wait any longer. With trembling fingers, I unfolded the letter he’d slipped into my hand — the paper soft and slightly creased, like it had been held, rewritten, maybe even second-guessed a few times. His handwriting stared back at me.

The tears came fast, just quietly streaking down my cheeks. I pressed the letter to my chest when I finished, as if holding it close could keep something from slipping away.

My dearest and only love, I told myself I wouldn’t write anything. That I’d let you go silently. I’ve always been terrible at goodbyes, and worse at holding back when my heart's already made up. You changed me more than I thought was possible. Gently at first, then all-consuming. I know you're leaving for something you've always wanted, and there's nothing about that I can ever hold against you. Still. It doesn't make it any easier. No words could ever fully hold how much I’ll miss you. I’ll be right where you left me. With all that I am, — Your Captain.

Some promises don’t need vows. Just the right words at the right time — and someone willing to wait.

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galene-gothic · 1 day ago

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⊹ ! ೀ Pile 1 ꒱

You have dealt with situations not turning out the way you wanted them to despite heavily investing into them. These situations in fact, made you feel very naive and taken advantage of. Ugh I just heard “a woman’s loyalty is tested when the man has nothing and a man’s loyalty is tested when he has everything.” I also suddenly got a vision of a TikTok that I saw a while ago. The man in the video was saying that if a woman stays with him at the lowest point of his life, he’d leave her when he gets to a high point because she clearly doesn’t respect herself 💀. It doesn’t necessarily have to do with a man or boy but it could have been a similar situation. You invested a lot into someone or possibly even multiple people and you were incredibly generous. The value was being provided only one way i.e. only you were the one bringing ANYTHING into the connection but you were the one being treated as though you didn’t have any value, as though you didn’t bring anything valuable into the connection or this person’s life. It definitely could have been an experience with multiple people for some of you. I was earlier hearing ‘without me’ by Halsey in my head and now I’m hearing that song, I’m not sure about the title I’ve only heard it through reels and TikTok. It goes something like “It’s not your fault I ruin everything and it’s not your fault I can’t be what you need.” This is honestly very sad, this person or people used to rely on you when they were sad but when they were enjoying life and had happy moments, they didn’t really share those with you, they didn’t spend those with you. It’s like when they experienced really good and happy moments, they just disappeared, and despite everything that you were offering them, they wanted a ‘happily ever after’ with other people. They used to take what you had to offer and use your resources to their benefit but they didn’t want you, they didn’t offer you anything of value, they didn’t even truly appreciate your value and only used it.

There definitely was this feeling of insecurity because why didn’t they see your value and treat it as such despite you doing, and offering so much? It was just a really bad investment on your part because all you were doing was wasting your time and energy by depleting your time, energy, and resources on an ungrateful person. I really wanted to use the b-word just now but I stopped myself. I’m feeling angry on your behalf here. You did everything with a very pure and affectionate heart. When you were doing and giving anything at all, you were being genuine with it. It was a very innocent kind of love that you were extending yourself with. You were sensitive to their needs and almost psychically picked up on things in regard to them, and even if you didn’t, you actively tried to because that’s just how pure hearted you were and their stinginess… gosh. They didn’t even try to invest in you at all, did they? You seem to have questioned your value and worth back then. Due to how you were investing into the connection with a sense of innocence, you were wounded like a child is. Let me explain it to you, kids have not seen enough of the world so when they get scolded or punished by their parents, it’s easy for them to question themself and believe that they must’ve done something wrong. They also forgive the trespassers again and again because that’s just how pure kids tend to be but whatever kids experience during their childhood sticks with them on a very deep level and is inevitably going to affect them as adults. You experienced a similar experience back then. It hit your inner child quite heavily. “How long could we be a sad song, till we were too far gone to bring back to life. I gave you all my best me’s, my endless empathy and all I did was bleed as I tried to be the bravest soldier. Fighting in only your army, front lines don’t you ignore me. I’m the best thing in this party. You’re losing me and I wouldn’t marry me either, a pathological people pleaser who only wanted you to see her.”

That’s ‘you’re losing me’ by Taylor Swift. I keep on hearing the part that goes “my heart won’t start anymore, my heart won’t start anymore.” I feel like you genuinely cannot bring yourself to feel anything for this person or these people anymore because when you were, they were abusing it. While I was writing ‘abusing’, I mistakenly typed ‘anus’ and that describes them pretty well :D. Despite having experienced all of this, you haven’t hardened. In fact, you’ve softened more. The more pain that you had to experience, undergo and heal from, the more pure hearted, innocent, loving and childlike you’ve gotten. Somehow, your inner child has healed and feels more comfortable expressing themself after everything you’ve experienced. There’s also an acceptance of your own contradictions here. You’re quite misunderstood and have always been. I just heard “I was a mature child so now I’m a childish woman.” You’ve always been mature yet childish. Some of you are incredibly mature on the inside but might be very childlike in the way you live and express yourself externally while it may be the other way around for the rest of you. Also, you have likely embodied both of these sides at different points of your life. There could have been a point when you wanted people to take you seriously because you were very mature on the inside and another point when you wished you could express yourself in a lighter, softer, and more playful manner because you were very sensitive and soft on the inside but on the inside, you ended up expressing yourself as more serious. Having embodied both of these, you are aware that others will criticise and misunderstand you either way, and that you won’t be happy with yourself either if you don’t accept your own contradictions and aren’t comfortable with being misunderstood so now, you don’t really care about whether someone misunderstands you.

“Sometimes I can’t even understand those perceptions, it feels unfair at times but the misunderstandings that make up the countless versions of me. All of them are ‘me’ in the end.” I feel like most of you are perceived as childish and are in fact very pure at heart but having been taken advantage of has caused you to develop a cautious approach and not commit to situations recklessly, and that’s a strength of yours. You also do not really give too much importance to a happy ending anymore. You don’t seek belonging and joy from others anymore, and are fine keeping to yourself and are very careful with the situations, and people that you invest in. The thing is, you’re not exactly closed off. You’re still open, pure hearted, loving and affectionate but it’s just that you’re finally more impatient. You can now leave situations as easily as you entered them if the other person doesn’t seem as invested. You know that you deserve a pure, loving and affectionate connection that is innocent, playful and genuine where you’re always chosen, and can always choose them and share a lot of intimacy with the other person - friend, lover, whatever. So when you don’t see things going to that direction, you don’t mind putting an end to things. You’re not willing to settle for anything except the most genuine and pure form of love, and connection because you know that you can provide it. You want to be treated as softly as you treat people and have them stick with you through thick, and thin with proper investment and to adore you, and value you affectionately and genuinely. You are unwilling to accept anything less than that. Having experienced whatever you experienced, you’re aware that you have a lot to offer but that giving more does not equal to receiving more so you don’t try as hard anymore. You’re still the same, you still try to extend yourself generously and provide value to the other person wholeheartedly but even now, you notice one sidedness, and it doesn’t bother you because you choose to either leave entirely and not invest any further or just pull away, and are not committed to trying and investing anymore. You are fine with getting away from people now.

You are alright with people not seeing your value and missing the opportunity to be in your close circle. You just don’t invest heavily into situations for a long time anymore. You try initially because you’re naturally a giver and are incredibly generous but when you feel like you’re not receiving the same, you don’t even question your worth or think about “why?”, you just let them. Also, this generosity of yours is not a method of finding belonging. It kind of is but it is more about how you feel about yourself rather than how others see you. You want to be kind and generous because you just naturally are a giver, and you find a sense of comfort in how much you do for the world, how much value you provide and how much good you put out into the world even if you don’t have anywhere you find belonging, and joy, even if you don’t have those personal connections. Instead of chasing a ‘happily ever after’ and joy, and fulfilment through external sources and connections, you chase purity of spirit, genuineness and generosity. There’s this mantra coming through but I’m not sure how it will resonate. The following includes mention of the hindu god ‘Shiva’ but even if you’re christian or muslim, or any other religion. I need you to take the message and try to interpret it rather than shunning it completely just because you don’t believe in the god or religion. Let me give you a little piece of advice before we move onto the mantra, if you find anything from other religions or concepts that you don’t follow, believe in or understand but it’s something that resonates with you, could help you going forward and just help you lead a better life, take it. The mantra goes “om tryambakam yajaamahe, sugandhim pushti vardhanam, urvaarukamiva bandhanam, mrityur mukshiya mamritaat.” It translates to “om, we worship the three eyed one (lord shiva), who is fragrant, increasing the nourishment (spiritually). From these many bondages (of samsara aka worldly cycles) similar to cucumbers (tied to their creepers). May I be liberated from death (attachment to perishable things), so that I’m not separated from the perception of immortality.”

I feel like many of you have already reached a point in which you understand that attachments are illusionary. If you haven’t yet, you will. You care about your soul and the truth of it - the purity, essence and nourishment of it more than you care about worldly cycles, and things that are perishable i.e. attachments which is why when you aren’t receiving love, don’t have personal connections or are misunderstood, even if it bothers you, it doesn’t. Your soul is whole and immortal, and so is love and joy, and it’s also ever present as long as one can maintain their soul and its true essence so you are just focused on that. Religions and spirituality both put an emphasis on love, and purity and I don’t mean purity as in not being allowed to enter temples during your periods, etc. but instead that they put an emphasis on remaining loving, always leading with love and keeping the heart as light as a feather. You are doing that and you’re spiritually aligned. Obviously with the hurt that you’ve faced, you sometimes may feel heavy or have felt heavy in the past but you have a loving spirit that is still pure at its core and you maintain it with utmost reverence, and that’s your strength. I was earlier getting the quote “do you know how much anger it took to be this gentle?” And now, I’m getting the bridge of ‘solo’ by Jennie coming through. “After the relationship, romance and emotions there’s breakup, tears, regret, and longing. I like being alone because I should be true to myself. Like the flowing wind, like the stars above the clouds. I want to go faraway, I want to shine brightly.” That’s the energy that you seem to possess, you know what you offer and deserve now, and you let go of any attachments that make you feel less than. If you aren’t here yet, you can be. All the best 💞. You’re doing really well. When it comes to your wounds, you are a stubborn one. You’re really persistent and determined to make things work, and are so busy doing so that you don’t notice when the other person has already given up.

You put in work diligently from the start to the end with consistency which is why it hurts more when they give up because you put so much effort into it. You also have long term intentions or even if you don’t, you put in work as though you do because you naturally are long term oriented and you maintain loyalty consistently without a single slip on your part so when the other person gives up, you feel really betrayed and hurt. Lifelong connections are beautiful because they require work and both parties not wanting to give up. You are willing to make things work by putting your all into whatever it is that you want to succeed because of your long term oriented approach. You don’t just give up without trying, you don’t give up without a fight, you can’t because you just value it so much and want it in the long run so the awareness that when someone wants something in the long run, wants someone on the long run, they won’t just run away when things get hard and they have to put effort in is something that wounds you because people have been too easy to give up in the past. You seem to have dealt with a lack of loyalty from others too and what is upsetting is that you were loyal to them. What seems to have happened is that you met someone (possibly even multiple people for some of you) when they were going through a time of discontentment, stagnation, apathy, isolation, boredom, yearning, etc. and you were present for them consistently but when they got better, they left you behind while you were still putting in work and trying, and they didn’t explicitly tell you that they had given up right away. You fell victim to the classic method of being wounded until you couldn’t try anymore. The wounds could have come from their carelessness, negligence, lack of gratitude or acknowledgement of all that you had done and been for them, or well all of the above.

In fact, for some of you, they could have been wounding you actively by treating you as if you were a burden and talking to you in ways that scarred you. In many cases, it could have been both. Whether their approach was passive, active or both, it was equally bad and you didn’t deserve that. You simply just knew that love and connections were hard work, and were willing to put that in. You knew that things aren’t always easy but you still tried until you absolutely couldn’t anymore. Once you finally gave up, you had to consistently put in work into your own betterment in order to heal the wounds that were inflicted on you back then. You’re showing strength even when I’m trying to tap more into your wounds. Despite how wounded you were, you persisted with courage. You learned from your previous failure and wounds, and endured the pain and managed to get better eventually. I feel like at some point, you tried to maintain strong routines in order to get better and it worked wonders for you. You gained clarity on your past, present and future as well as a desire to be present, pleasant and proud. One thing is for sure, you started wanting to focus on the present moment and make the most out of it. You released your emotions and saw where change was needed, and created those changes. You left the past behind you and grew emotionally to the point of feeling almost enlightened. Now, you’re self aware, focused, content, grateful for what you already have, try to be present, accept yourself and situations as they are, and know your responsibilities and try to carry them out properly. Also, you reflect to learn but try to be and are present. The journey to get here wasn’t an easy one, the path was really rocky and rough with twists, and turns but you still made it. Pat yourself on the back, you’re doing so well. Thank you so much for reading. I hope that the reading resonated and that it provided you with the answers, and guidance that you wanted and needed. Much love and take care 💋.

⊹ ! ೀ Pile 2 ꒱

Your strength is that you’re a protector and provider, and your wound is that people either don’t see it, take it for granted or are intimidated by it. Also, a very interesting thing that was happening when I was shuffling for you was that I wanted to channel ‘strengths and wounds’ but I kept on messing up and saying ‘strengths and weaknesses’. I feel like it was because your wounds have caused you to feel really weak or have created a weakness within you in some way. Don’t worry, we’ll look into it properly so that you can heal these parts of you and reclaim your power. I just heard that audio “they gonna hate me regardless, that’s why I do what I do.” Also, you’re more of a man than most men are 😭. You’re naturally a protector and provider, and I’m picking up on a lot of passion from you including an emphasis on sexual intimacy. Currently if you’re single, this can simply manifest as feeling horny frequently or/and masturbating a lot (or well just craving that orgasm even if you’re unable to touch yourself) but you’re definitely very passionate in romantic relationships, likely physically affectionate in other ways outside of sexual intimacy as well. You’re friendly and charismatic, and approach others with a fairly soft yet a bold and almost flirty demeanour. I feel like you’re this way with your same sex friends more than anyone else. You have a strong aura and it is because you possess a lot of integrity. ‘Substance over form’ is the kind of person that you are and that’s your strength. You’re really solid on the inside possessing courage, generosity, principles, ethics, a sense of responsibility, maturity, passion, loyalty, so on and so forth. You have turned out to be a strong person with a well rounded and strongly grounded character despite everything that you’ve undergone instead of letting it turn you bitter, and resentful. I’m hearing ‘easy on me’ by Adele. “Go easy on me baby, I was still a child didn’t get the chance to feel the world around me. I had no time to choose what I chose to do. So go easy on me.”

“There ain’t no room for things to change when we are both so deeply stuck in our ways, you can’t deny how hard I’ve tried. I changed who I was to put you both first but now I give up.” Some of you could have childhood trauma - endless sacrifice for your parents while some of you didn’t have parents and did everything to please your guardian(s), and the rest of you dealt with bullying or aggression from others and the ones who don’t relate to any of the above could have lost someone (possibly multiple people) and they could have been acting very egotistically, making you feel weak but it was not exactly your loss even if it may have felt like it at the time. Some of you may have hit the lottery and dealt with all of the above 😍. You could have also lost someone who you sacrificed a lot for. I just got the word ‘everyone’ and earlier at the beginning of the reading I had received the word ‘burnt’. Did you at some point feel like you lost everything and were burnt by everyone? You may have also felt as though you sacrificed a lot, too much of yourself for others in the past. “So you can love me, hate me, you will never be, never be, never be me. Try me, I’ll break free, you will never be, never be, never be me.” The song is literally titled ‘rebel heart’, I feel like back then despite any feeling of weakness and despite surrendering for the sake of peace, and feeling as though you lost, you knew that you hadn’t. You were rebelling from within and not egoistically but by channelling all your inner strength. You’re really confident in yourself now. I’m trying to dig up your past but you’re showing me how great you are in the present. You know that no one can ever be you. “I’ve tasted being the bigger person, I’ve also tasted matching energy. I recommend no contact.” You value your peace more than anything. You are ethical, reliable, long term oriented and seek excitement, and passion in long term matters rather than by seeking fleeting thrill. In fact, the more safe, stable and grounded a connection is, the more passion, excitement and joy you experience.

You do not feel any desire to wander or be unfaithful, your passion is reserved for just your significant other and your significant only. Like, you don’t even get tempted 💀. For example, if you’ve been in a relationship with someone for years, you’d rather try to experience new sorts of passion and excitement with them rather than get connected with someone new, and ruin something beautiful that you already have going and even if that’s not possible in grand ways just the fact that they’re loyal, and that you share a stable, safe and grounded connection is enough for you to be able to find passion, joy and excitement in the littlest of moments. You don’t get tempted or attracted to others. Also, you watch your character because of who you are as a person and who you want to be rather than to impress anyone. You may be someone who tries to avoid wandering eyes even when you’re single and just really try to watch your character in every way that you can because you are, and want to be a certain way. You’re a really well rounded person - you seek peaceful resolution and if you don’t find that, you seek peace even if it is by yourself, you don’t mind compromising, and have in fact, sacrificed majorly in the past. You know how to make amends with situations by now and you also have a side within you that’s like “I am me, you are you. If you do me dirty, fuck you” but your ethical peace seeking side overrides this. You’re loyal and try to maintain a strong character for yourself rather than for impressions, and are passionate as well. Also, you’re very romantic and care deeply, and genuinely about your partner. You want teeth rottingly sweet romance i.e. the shoulder kisses, climbing up the fences to get into some forbidden property, candlelight dinner, watching fireworks together and you going “so pretty” while looking at the different designs in the sky while they look at you and repeat your words, basically the whole nine yards. You’re also highly capable of it. You’re willing to do anything and everything for your partner as long as it doesn’t go against your morals.

I wonder if many of you are elder daughters or something because there’s so much about sacrifice, maturity and provision. I don’t mean to be a misandrist but I don’t think that I’ve ever met a man this well rounded and with such a strong character. You could have always sacrificed and done so much for your family, provided so much to them, and just been so mature and responsible from such a young age that that’s just who you are now. I wouldn’t be surprised if you already are or will provide financially for your family in the future. “I knew you, leaving like a father, running like water.” It doesn’t mean that your father or any parent left you (though it could be) but that you didn’t feel safe and stable with them so you have become a stable, and reliable individual to feel safe within yourself and to find a partner who provides the same qualities to you. Looking at your wounds, you feel like people let you go too easily. They often chose other people too. Oh my god, I just started hearing ‘the other woman’ by Lana Del Rey. It seems to have been a pattern for you. You were in contact with them in a very consistent manner so it could have been a friend who was using you as a placeholder for a romantic relationship until they found someone to commit to 💀. You are very diligent and have basic human decency so when someone is in your life, even if it is not a situation with commitment involved, you do whatever you can for them and are very present so when you were not fully claimed but not fully let go of, and had them let you go after finding a romantic relationship, you felt really manipulated. By this point, you don’t really question your worth anymore but back then, you wondered if you were unworthy of being chosen and committed to. For those of you who do not resonate with this, when it was time for people to make choices, their loyalties seemed to lie elsewhere. Even the closest connections that you had didn’t live up to their potential and in fact, you felt deceived.

“How long could we be a sad song till we were too far gone to bring back to life I gave you all my best me’s, my endless empathy and all I did was bleed as I tried to be the bravest soldier. Fighting in only your army, front lines don’t you ignore me, I’m the best thing in this party (you’re losing me) and I wouldn’t marry me either, a pathological people pleaser who only wanted you to see her, and I’m fading thinking ‘do something babe, say something. Lose something babe, risk something. Choose something babe, I’ve got nothing to believe unless you’re choosing me.’” “I can’t find a pulse, my heart won’t start anymore for you cause you’re losing me.” “My heart won’t start anymore, my heart won’t start anymore.” You feel as though you’ve never been able to develop and share deep intimacy, and love with someone that is pure and whole, and where you choose each other again and again. I just heard “she has other friends that she likes better”, you’ve just felt as though everyone chose and enjoyed other peoples company more, and that you were let go of so easily as though you were worthless. “If you feel too abandoned by others, it’s because you’ve abandoned yourself” ofcourse, it’s okay to feel bad about being abandoned and used. ‘Enough for you’ by Olivia Rodrigo is coming through. “Stupid, emotional, obsessive little me. I knew from the start this is exactly how you’d leave. You found someone more exciting, the next second you were gone and you left me there crying, wondering what I did wrong and you always say I’m never satisfied but I don’t think that’s true cause all I ever wanted was to be enough. Don’t you think I loved you too much to be used and discarded? Don’t you think I loved you too much to think I deserve nothing? So don’t tell me you’re sorry boy, feel sorry for yourself cause someday I’ll be everything to somebody else and they’ll think that I’m so exciting, and you’ll be the one who’s crying. You always say I’m never satisfied but I don’t think that’s true, you say I’m never satisfied but that’s not me, it’s you cause all I ever wanted was to be enough and I don’t think anything could ever be enough for you. No, nothing’s enough for you.”

You felt as though you abandoned yourself and didn’t have any boundaries or standards just because you wanted to be chosen, and loved back then and you’ve forgiven yourself for that, and grown into your power immensely by strengthening your character and I’m so incredibly proud of you but the shame, guilt, regret, and pain that you experienced back then was on another level. You felt as though you failed to maintain loyalty to yourself and choose yourself. There was this sense of having lost yourself due to a desire to be chosen mixed with a feeling of inferiority. You felt inferior and powerless in the connection or well, connections but even after they ended, you felt inferior and powerless, in fact, now that you could see things more clearly, you felt more inferior, powerless and ashamed of yourself. You lacked direction back then and were misdirecting your energy into trying to receive love, and be chosen by acting inferior and slowly started believing it yourself because others treated you like such when you could have been improving yourself, your skills and your life instead. You felt like you betrayed yourself. The song ‘I’ll never fall in love again’ by Dionne Warwick is coming through. “What do you get when you fall in love? A guy with a pin to burst your bubble. That’s what you get for all your trouble. I’ll never fall in love again. I’ll never fall in love again. What do you get when you kiss a guy? You get enough germs to catch pneumonia, after you do, he’ll never phone ya. I’ll never fall in love again. Don’t you know that I’ll never fall in love again? Don’t tell me what it’s all about cause I’ve been there and I’m glad I’m out. Out of those chains, those chains that bind you. That is why I’m here to remind you. What do you get when you fall in love? You only get lies and pain and sorrow.”

You’re a deeply romantic person but due to how genuine you are, how much you offer and all the deception that you’ve faced. You are more focused on your daily routines, money, career, work and study. You might also have a wound regarding skills. You want to develop skills and you know you have it in you but you just haven’t been able to, you just aren’t being able to, you’re being told to keep going consistently. You’re probably rolling your eyes externally or internally at what I just wrote because it’s not like you haven’t tried to develop these skills consistently because you have but that no matter how much you have tried, you just haven’t been able to but you’re still being encouraged to keep going. Having experienced all that you’ve experienced, you’ve become very self and character focused. You care a lot about other people’s character as well as your own. You have high standards now and until you meet someone who matches them close to perfectly, you are not interested in any sort of romance. You really do want to find this person though because you have so much love to give and genuinely want to experience the soft mushy gushy romantic, and passionate kind of romance. You want to experience a soft romcom movie and ‘fifty shades of grey’ kind of romance at the same time with just one person for the rest of your life but it is very important for you to be able to respect, admire and rely on that person. Passion is very important to you in romance and life in general. Due to how you’ve had to take on really responsible roles throughout your life and always hold this sense of responsibility, and duty within you, and how sacrificing and resolution seeking you can be despite a very hot, and strong fire within you. You need a partner who’s more of a man than you are. Someone who is a good leader, passionate, charismatic, go getter, action oriented, loyal, grounded, ethical, responsible, reliable and romantic. Someone who lets you be bratty and express anger, and also doesn’t take advantage of your problem solving, peaceful and resolution seeking nature.

You tend to be fairly submissive on the outside despite the inner strength you possess so you need someone who is happy with themself and doesn’t feel the need to dominate, and belittle you in order to feel better about themself. I’m not going to lie, due to how passionate you are, you have a very competitive and resentful side to you but also you’re very peaceful, and forgiving. You truly are such a well rounded person. You might attract a lot of hostility and aggression due to this. People can pick up on your inner drive but you seem to harmless on the surface that they try to crush your spirit because they just feel a sense of competitiveness, hostility and aggression towards you without any real reason and you have a strong character on the inside so you don’t break externally but instead usually maintain peace so they don’t understand why and how you’re so unaffected 💀😭. You want a partner who can handle your angry and difficult sides, the ones that are deeply passionate. You cannot settle for just anyone because now that you’ve grown as a person, you’ve grown into your character and strength, you get really bad vibes from most people, and notice their faults and flaws quite easily. ‘CO2’ by Prateek Kuhad is the song that I’m getting here. “Maybe it’s the way that you can see what I’m missing what I can never be.” “Maybe it’s the man that you see in me.” Most people won’t be able to live up to your standards due to how high they are but they’re just normal to you because you can live up to them so you don’t need to lower them. You need to look at things differently now, you’re not unworthy, things are better now, life is brighter now. You are likely to intimidate people once they start seeing your character more clearly. The closer that they’ll get to you, the more that they might feel inferior or like they don’t live up to what you need them to be. You can be critical to some extent because of how high your standards are even for yourself but it’s coming as a strength of yours. Only accept those who are actively trying and being able to live up to what your standards are. If someone gives up or doesn’t try, trust me, you’re better off. Those who think that they’re not enough, they know themselves more than you know them because they experience consciousness from within themself, because they can hear their own thoughts and know about their own actions, and tendencies so believe them when they talk or act like they’re not enough. Right now, I’m getting that while you’re capable of romance, you’re focused on consistently bettering yourself, improving your lifestyle, your career, money, routines, work and studies. You are on the right path. It’s okay to want romance but don’t ever lower your standards by even just an inch or a millimetre because you can live up to your own and you deserve an equal. Thank you so much for reading. I hope that the reading resonated and that it provided you with the answers, and guidance that you wanted and needed. Much love and take care 💋.

⊹ ! ೀ Pile 3 ꒱

(TW: Mentions of abuse, sexual assault, etc.)

Some of you have daddy issues or some kind of issue caused by aggressive people but there’s a strong theme of boys and men here. There are so many scenarios coming through, you’re obviously not going to relate to all of them. For some of you, you’ve just dealt with aggression, threatening your sense of belonging while some of you have dealt with abandonment from either or both parents or just an absence of them, there are even mentions of abuse here for some of you if your parents were present. An angry father or parental figure? If not, you have had terrible experiences with the male gender. It could be something as simple as having boys make fun of you in middle school. These incidents have wounded you really deeply. I’m having a really hard time putting all the scenarios down. There’s definitely some sort of a deep wound when it comes to belonging - be it family, home, community, school or work. Also little incidents grew into real big ones that I’m hearing traumatised you. For example, you got with some guy, that changed the entire trajectory of your life. The thing is, you received a lot of intolerance from everyone for a major part of your life. It escalated close to abuse, violence and bullying at some point, and for many of you, it could have had something to do with a guy. Don’t get me wrong, it would have been a part of your life either way. People just have been so aggressive, unruly and intolerant towards you for no reason, you didn’t deserve that but I will explain how it could have had something to do with a guy for many of you. For example, you got into a relationship with some guy, you could have been heavily criticised by other people who also liked and wanted him considered you to be ‘not good enough’ for him just for this guy to break up with you in a disrespectful manner with no regard for you whatsoever, and after that, I’m getting that either the aggression and bullying from other people intensified or the effects of the previous unruly treatment started affecting you intensely.

Many of you have dealt with an abusive situation even if it’s just emotionally though it could have been physically for some of you (by parents, romantic partners, etc.) Do not invalidate your experiences ever because even if others might think that it was not abuse, it definitely was. It affected you so deeply, I’m not even being able to express it properly. I’m just crying right now. If you didn’t deal with any of the above situations. Though, I believe that many of you have dealt with all or at least majority of what I’m mentioning. Then, you dealt with guy friends who were using you for an ego boost and acted as though you wanted them so bad if you simply tried to keep the friendship going or tried to fix things instead of ending them. Guys have made you feel really preyed on. People in general have but guys especially. Some of you could have even dealt with men trying to assault you sexually. It could have been something as simple as someone forcefully kissing you as a child or making you watch porn. Something like this could have happened when you were a teen or an adult too but I just got that since kids are the most vulnerable, it likely happened to many of you as kids. Oh my god, no way. I just heard “he doesn’t like cougars, he likes little kids. He stopped liking me when I turned eighteen.” I feel like your life has always been this way. Having people walk all over you and treat you like shit but it got especially worst in your teen years. I’m not sure what happened at fourteen and seventeen specifically but seventeen was your last straw, and your experiences all the way from when you were fourteen contributed to finally realising the truth. In fact, your experiences before that contributed too but I’m picking up that mistreatment and aggression were/felt the most extremely during your teenage years. Any childhood abuse or mistreatment, or instability, you realised the truth of all of that through what you experienced during your teenage years. People genuinely just lacked compassion towards you and you had to deal with a lot of loneliness.

It is like anytime that you were not keeping to yourself and connecting with others, they were abusing, using and mistreating you. People used to treat you aggressively, make fun of you and mistreat you for their own sick sense of enjoyment, in order to boost their ego, and have fun. I’m so sorry, you didn’t deserve all that. Even when you were with people, you were very lonely and felt insecure, and lacking due to the way they used to treat you and once you finally got away, you felt incredibly insecure, unstable, and lacking but you chose that over mistreatment from others and that’s how you grew. “Don’t be afraid to stand alone. Don’t be afraid to stand outside your comfort zone. I know it’s hard away from home and it ain’t easy all alone.” You had a strong thirst for knowledge from since you were a kid but during this time of loneliness, it transformed into a need. You were seeking truth and clarity because you genuinely needed it to move forward but you have always possessed some sort of a divine knowledge. Which is why you were able to be so compassionate, still and passive at the face of such mistreatment, aggressiveness and lack of compassion. Divinity exists within all of us and you were aware of that. So you naturally acted like the bigger person until you couldn’t anymore but this breakdown caused you to get closer to your own truth. You started realising that while it’s good to learn through external sources, true knowledge and wisdom is something that we are just born with, and that anything else that comes through, it should come from within. For example, we are not born racists, as kids, all we want is to receive and give love, and we are active, and full of life, that’s the only knowledge that truly matters - the ability to be yourself in your highest, most divine and purest form. You also realised just how shitty the treatment that you received in the past was and how lonely, and insecure you were.

You may have felt at home with these people or shared a community with them but even so, you decided to act with integrity and do right by you even if it required loneliness or/and isolation. For some of you, after all of this had passed, you met someone who you felt really at home with but for some reason, you still had to logically act out of fairness and had to reward them with the consequences of their actions rather than with negotiation. The trajectory of your growth has been amazing. One of your strengths is your sense of hope and faith. You felt like you’d never get anything good in life and that your life was doomed, and that you’d be lonely and empty forever but you still kept going, and you managed to get better so now you have hope and faith regarding life. Back then, you just wanted to feel better, get better and now, you have so now you have a sense of direction, you’re focused on nourishing yourself. You are connected to your core essence and are comfortable with your vulnerability, and sense of nakedness i.e. your authenticity. You’re nourishing and loving yourself wholeheartedly in any, and every way possible though. Yes, there’s always room for improvement. Like, for example, you may do your skincare, workout and do your work diligently but you may not eat all three meals so you could work on that, etc. But definitely, you try to make sure to eat even if you’re busy because your nourishment means a lot to you. You might be unable to have all three meals but you try. You’re very intense in terms of romance and also really romantic. but you don’t try to put in time, energy, and effort into romance anymore unless the other person comes to you first and is consistently present, and shows promise of a solid future but you’re very content being alone. You in fact, really enjoy it. You are on a journey of self discovery and improvement, and understand yourself and love very deeply due to how much time you’ve spent alone, by yourself, in contemplation, and soul searching.

You’ve drawn out a lot of wisdom from within yourself. You’re spiritually enlightened and don’t mind being alone or different. Even if it is difficult, even if you’re considered to be difficult, you want to be yourself. “Share my life, take me for what I am cause I’ll never change all my colours for you. Take my love, I’ll never ask for too much, just all that you are and everything that you do.” You’re aware by now that it is nothing except self betrayal to try to earn love by changing yourself because even if you manage to receive love, they won’t be living ‘you’ and if you don’t win them over, you’d have lost yourself in the process, and would feel terrible about yourself so you’d rather be alone but yourself. That one bible story is coming through here. “Jacob agreed to work for seven years to marry Rachel, the woman he loved but was deceived by her father Laban and ended up marrying her older sister, Leah. Though he fulfilled his time and eventually married Rachel too, Jacob loved Rachel more than Leah. Seeing that Leah was unloved, god allowed her to bear children while Rachel remained barren. With each son she bore, Leah hoped that Jacob would finally love her - naming her first Reuben, saying, “now my husband will love me”, her second Simeon because “the lord has heard that I am hated”, and her third Levi, thinking, “now my husband will become attached to me.” However, Jacob’s heart did not change. When she bore her fourth son, Judah, Leah no longer pleaded for her husband’s affection but simply said, “this time I will praise the lord.” You seem to be aware of the fact that love that is not freely given can never be earned so you don’t even try. If you found the kind of love that you desire, if you found someone who loved and cherished you, you would be intensely passionate and romantic, honestly to an extreme but that’s because, that’s just who you are. You’d indulge in it very deeply. You’d experience the feeling of being ‘drunk in love’.

“With you, there’s silence in a crowd. There’s a little unconsciousness, with you, because of you.” You’d make an intense lover who loves incredibly deeply but you’re not interested in trying to earn anyone’s love in order to channel your romantic energy. You might in fact, have these sides of you pretty hidden. All of you have different kinds of personality but all of you have a very meek one. Some of you are more of the silent kind, some of you may be talkative when with others and might seem really social, and some of you might manage to do both but if you do have a talkative and social side, there’s this thing about you in which once you are out of that social situation, you struggle to stay in touch with others, isolate yourself and randomly disappear. Also, the more time that you spend in a social situation and with certain people, the more silent and internal that you tend to get. I’m loving all the messages that are coming through for your strengths. We don’t see through our eyes, we see through our minds. Our eyes are just a medium for us to perceive the external world and interact with it. There’s so much in the world about ‘finding god’ or ‘figuring out the meaning of life’, people just want to know where and how it all started, and where and how we will all end up after death so they seek god but do they really manage to find divinity? Most people don’t because god made it so simple yet so tricky to find them by choosing to reside where they’re currently residing i.e. within each person. Most people aren’t able to comprehend that divinity can reside within them because they think that figuring out the mysteries of life and receiving answers is much more complicated than that, and that’s okay but they’d easily find divinity, god, whatever they want to call it if they only turned their vision inside and looked within themselves. Most of you are aware of this truth so you try to keep yourself as clean, good and pure spirited as possible because divinity should not reside in a dirty place. It does not have to be conscious awareness or conscious trying but you’re just incredibly internal and have learned so much from going within yourself that you’ve found your guide there, your divinity itself and you’re well aligned with your life purpose. If you’re not quite there yet, you soon will be. Thank you so much for reading. I hope that the reading resonated and that it provided you with the answers, and guidance that you wanted and needed. Much love and take care 💋.

#pac reading #tarot pac #tarot pick a card #pick a card reading #pac #pick a card #pick a deck #intuitive readings #pick a photo

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midnightlvrs · 1 day ago

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bob reynolds rant/analysis bcs i have thoughts

i feel like a lot of fic writers misunderstand bob’s character a lot and i’ve noticed there’s a lot of misinformation and infantilisation of his character.

firstly, bob is a grown man, not a baby. i think people seem to baby him due to his mental state but in reality he isn’t that at all. he isn’t an “uwu baby who can’t do anything”, he’s a man with mental health issues and a history of addiction trying to get control over his life and it feels very counterproductive to infantilise him because of this. (plus we’ve seen him call out john walker for being an asshole and he’s had moments where he can be sarcastic, i am a sassy bob truther).

secondly, when it comes to his powers, people definitely misinterpret what they actually are. his powers can’t just happen out of nowhere from what i know. it’s very implied that bob is bipolar and the sentry and void are manifestations of different states in bipolar. the sentry is meant to represent the mania whereas the void is meant to represent the depression. bob himself is just the middle ground between the two. the sentry doesn’t just appear, from what the film portrayed, his ego and delusions of grandeur have to be fed to put his mental state into that position (for example, val feeding into his god complex by saying he was better than all the avengers rolled into one), when he was the sentry, he had a moment of insecurity after ava questioned his hair and told val about it but switched up once he started to challenge why he needed to listen to val if he was so powerful and mighty.

now, iirc, the void is what follows after the sentry. it’s the crash after his mania (bob himself says he has extreme highs followed by extreme lows). from what it looks like, the void comes out after bob experiences the sentry. like a hangover after getting drunk, you’re really happy and wild while drunk but absolutely depressed and tired once the hangover kicks in. it seems to be the same kind of concept. and then, as we know, once the void is “gone” he doesn’t remember anything.

in conclusion, the thunderbolts* wouldn’t walk on eggshells because “the void” will appear randomly whenever bob feels any negative emotion because that doesn’t seem to be the case at all. bob even says in the post credits he can’t be the sentry without “the other guy” showing up. meaning that the void only happens after the sentry.

anyway this was a lot of yapping but i was tired of seeing the mischaracterisation and infantilisation of bob and felt like i needed to say something. if i got anything wrong please correct me as i’m only going off of my own interpretation and research.

#bob reynolds #bob thunderbolts #bob reynolds x reader #bob reynolds fluff #bob reynolds smut #robert reynolds #thunderbolts x reader #thunderbolts #the new avengers #the sentry #sentry x reader #the void #the void x reader

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bitterreid · 2 days ago

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🌷 Bad dream, baby - S.R. 🌷

summary: After Spencer gets wounded in the field, you do your absolute best to take care of your boyfriend in pain. He is having a particularly tough time with it, frustrations running high, and he thinks he knows how to solve it, but you're not so sure.

or: idiots in love that learn to communicate :) and have sexy times :)

Category: smut but also hurt/comfort and it's extremely fluffy and he's angsty. I did it, I collected them all.

Contains: porn with plot, vague descriptions of canon typical violence and injuries, fem!reader, smut!!! so minors DNI!, dry humping, a lot of fluff, hurt/comfort, unprotected p in v (pretend she's on birth control idk), implied (?) cockwarming, intimacy, very many feelings, established relationship, whiny Spence but no s/d dynamics, I am so down bad for this man help me

Trigger warning??? I'm not really sure whether this is relevant but better be safe than sorry! At the start there is a case of a sort of dubious consent? It gets communicated about, resolved and turns out really sweet (and nothing malicious goes on at all), but always take care of yourself and skip this one if that sounds like something that's not for you <3

word count: 5.9k

a/n: Look I'll say it first. I have a Thing™️ for wounded men. It's okay. You can say it too <3 This is our support group now.

🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷

"I'll be right back, baby" you said, as you took the dirty plates to the kitchen.

A sigh escaped your lips as soon as the door closed behind you. Not because you were tired of Spencer, never, but your heart just felt so heavy having to see him like this.

It had been a little over a week now since Spencer had been seriously injured in the field. His injuries had been worse than any other member had ever been harmed, and after having to spend a few nights in the hospital, you finally had him to yourself again. The last few days had been some of the worst of your whole life. Getting the call about the shooting had felt like being shot yourself, and racing to the hospital in a perpetual state of panic and despair had felt like it lasted forever. Seeing Spencer unconscious on a hospital bed, being dragged away to surgery, it had almost been too much to handle. It all seemed so far away now, and getting to sit by his side as he opened his eyes again, that was a flood of relief that would never again be parallelled. "Hi…" he had said, large eyes lidded, a faint smile on his lips, and you had just burst into tears on the spot.

You shook your head to get away from the thoughts, feeling the warm water hit your skin as you started to wash the dishes. It hadn't been easy, having Spencer home and pretty much immoble for another while. Of course you had immediately jumped at the opportunity to take him home and care for him yourself, you loved him so much and nothing could change that, but that didn't mean it wasn't hard on you, or on Spencer.

You could see that he was really struggling. He was always so independent, from a young age already and now even more so, so naturally being unable to even stand on his own was like torture to him. You did your very very best to accommodate him, helping him where necessary and letting him take the wheel where he could, but it was a tough balance. He was extremely proud and though he was more than grateful and appreciative of your help, his frustrations were beginning to run high.

Not that you didn't understand, of course. Despite the frequent and sincere thank you's you were given every day, it must all have been so frustrating to him… Spencer was not good at being taken care of in general, you had noticed. He was a giver through and through, selfless, kind, generous, and he had never been in a position where he received just so much. It was eating him alive that he couldn't give you anything in return.

Of course you didn't want or need anything for your care, you loved him and would do anything to make him comfortable in his time of need, but you could see the (entirely misplaced) guilt on his face when you made him his meals, helped him into his clothes, or fetched him another book.

You strolled back into your bedroom, Spencer still in the exact position you had left him in. Not that he had much choice. He put his book down slowly and smiled at you warmly. You returned the smile, but seeing him like this made your heart hurt every single time, no denying it. His right leg was propped up on some pillows. The bullet had penetrated his knee, and at first the doctors weren't sure he would ever be able to use it again, but after emergency surgery, luck had finally been on Spencer's side. During the fall, he managed to sustain an injury to his ribs which had needed stitches, and he had hit his head on something, which had left a glaring gash right though his eyebrow.

"Hi, baby" he said, looking extra soft in his pyjama pants and shirt, "ready for the movie?"

"Sure am," you smiled warmly at him and got on top of the blankets. You had deemed every single night movie night while Spencer was bed-bound, you know, silver linings and such. Spencer lazily put his arm around your waist as you cuddled up next to him - carefully - and pressed play on the old Italian black-and-white drama. (Spencer's pick, naturally.) You had had to beg him for subtitles, because no matter how much you loved his whispered translations in your ear, you just could not keep up that way. Not that you understood all that much of it this way either, but Spencer seemed to enjoy it, and anything for him.

"Hey, baby, you want some hot chocolate?" you were halfway through the movie at this point, not that you understood anything close to half of it, but anyway.

Spencer smiled sheepishly, which you had learned to take as a yes from him. "Yeah?" you smiled at him, kissing his shoulder briefly before getting up.

"Only if it's not a bother!" he was quick to say, holding your wrist gently in his palm, his eyes pretty and impossibly round.

"For you?" you kissed his nose, "Never."

He smiled in the bashful way that you knew all too well. You tried to sprinkle in little sentiments like that last one, in hopes that he would finally start to believe them, but for now you knew that some twisted sort of guilt over being taken care of was eating at him.

When you returned with the mugs, you placed his on his bed-side table, as it was still too hot to drink immediately. You got back into bed, right away finding your place next to Spencer again. The movie progressed slowly, but you were content just cuddling with Spencer all night, or this careful version of cuddling, at least, trying to avoid any bruised or battered parts of him.

"Did you know that actually-" (you already knew you would not know whatever was to follow), "the director of this movie wanted to shoot it by the sea, but the guy who plays Phillipe just absolutely refused to?" Spencer giggled to himself, "They had to shoot by a big lake instead."

"How do you even find all these fun facts at this point?" the warmth you felt for him was evident in your tone.

"Don't know," he smiled down at you tucked beside him, "just catch them here and there, I guess"

"Oh yeah," you drawl, "me too, I'm always just hearing about old Italian movie stars and their affinity for lakes."

This drew a chuckle out of Spencer, his eyes sparkling like they always used to do. "They actually did end up winning multiple prizes for this film back in the day, so people could hypothetically still be talking about it to this day, you know, it made a lasting impression on the way they still today portray loneliness in relations to large bodies of water and how people-"

Spencer suddenly hissed out in pain, after which you heard a dull thud on the floor beside him. He had tried to grab the mug off the table, but the wound on his ribs must have caused him to drop it, you deduced and, oh, you knew this was so not what he needed after the already difficult day- week- month he'd had. You charged up for maximum damage control.

"Spencer-" you tried.

"Shit. I- Auch," he groaned in pain again, clutching his side.

"Spencer, no, baby stop trying to twist your torso, it's alright, I-" He wasn't listening, he was looking over the edge of the bed with clenched teeth, staring at the slowly spreading stain on your white bedside rugs.

"I- I'm so sorry, I'm- I'm just-" you could see the emotions taking over, it was all just too much in this moment. You had known this would eventually happen, he had been so brave, so well-behaved, just like you knew Spencer to be, but the frustrations had to come to the surface one way or another, you knew that very well.

"I, just, FUCK" he near shouted. It was strange hearing Spencer cuss in this setting, normally so calm and collected.

"It's alright, Spence, really, I know it was an accident," You slowly got out of bed to take out some paper towels to try and manage the bleeding stain. "I can just throw these in the wash and tomorrow all will be alright." You tried to smile at him, but he wouldn't meet your eyes, still transfixed on the rug.

"No." he said, just as you crouched down. "No, let me do this, it's my mess." there was a red blush creeping up his neck from below his collar and his eyes were fiery. He tried to lift his leg off the mountain of pillows, to no avail, as he immediately had to cease his efforts due to another spell of pain washing over him.

He groaned - in frustration or pain, or both - and your heart broke in two. "Spencer," you said softly, sitting down carefully on the edge of the bed. He tried to get back up again and failed, clenching his teeth as he held onto his side. You reached your hand out to him, wanting to stroke his hair, but he ducked away harshly. Your hand faltered in the air, not used to reactions like this, and so it took you a second to remember to take your hand back into your lap.

He looked back at you, his scrunched-up brows smoothing out again when he saw you sitting there. "No- God, I'm sorry, I don't- I didn't- mean to-" he was breathing irregularly now, almost hyperventilating, wringing his hands in strained motions. There was so much pent up emotion in his body, fear from the shooting, pain from its wounds, anger over their consequences and guilt for the care they required, it was all coming to a head now. "I'm just so fucking, it's all so incredibly-" he was trying to push it back in, keep it all to himself again, but you knew the both of you couldn't continue like this. And he knew it too. It was as if he was trying to cram too many emotions all into one envelope to seal it off again, but finding it impossible. The fiery waves still spilled out of his eyes, the desperation layering onto itself until he was nearly shaking.

"Just, let it all out Spence, you don't have to hold it in, you can just yell for a while if it would make you feel better." you tried to soothe him best you could, you didn't know what would calm him now, and you didn't really dare to guess, but his eyes looked so pleadingly in your direction, looking for answers you didn't have.

"No, No," he shook his head, wincing again afterwards "I-" he groaned, now out of pure and visible frustration, and suddenly he took your hands, placing them on his chest "Will you just, touch me, please?" His amber eyes, impossibly big and begging, bored into yours.

"T- touch you?" you weren't sure you understood him right.

"Please-" his voice broke, desperate, desolate.

"O-okay, sure, Spence, anything," You didn't quite know what to do exactly, your hands stayed still on his chest, your mind racing with what to do.

Clearly displeased with your inactivity, Spencer whined and his hands reached out, he took a light hold of your waist and tried to pull you closer, which was not as simple in your current position. You finally understood, he wanted you close, so you snaked one hand behind his neck to tangle in the curls at the bottom of his skull, and let the other one lightly graze the skin of his collarbones, making his muscles relax ever so slightly. His eyes still stared disparagingly back at you, as he kept clumsily pawing at you to get closer.

You leaned in slightly and gave him a quick, experimental peck on his lips. Hungry like a tiger, however, he kissed you back, hands immediately tangling in your hair, lips immediately seeking more contact. He kissed you like a man starved, like it had been ages since he had you close at all. You kissed him back, taken aback a little, but the familiar deep lull of his kisses didn't go unnoticed as you let your guard slip just a little, giving into his touch.

Still not exactly sure where this was going, or what on earth he was trying to communicate, you let him manoeuvre (more like manhandle) you fully onto his side of the bed. You knew he was being careful - it was Spencer, after all - but in his desperation and need, he failed to account for his current situation, bumping into his painful leg or his bruises. He winced into the kiss, but still refused to break it, kissing and softly licking into your mouth as he went.

"Spencer-" you tried, as you momentarily leaned away, but the amber of his eyes had molten, pools of craving peering back at you. He leaned forward with you, closing the gap again and once more capturing your lips with his. His gentle but guiding hands on your waist had directed your legs open on either side of him, essentially hovering you over him in a straddling position. You didn't dare to bring your hips down in fear of hurting his leg, so you just awkwardly loomed over him.

Getting his lips off of yours proved to be harder than you'd anticipated, with Spencer kissing you like you were the air he desperately needed, yet holding you so firmly to his lips that there was hardly any chance to breathe. It didn't help that his kisses were absolutely intoxicating. The need and passion he poured into each gentle peck and deep lick made you want to sink into him more and more.

When you finally came back to yourself and managed to get some distance between your faces, he whined softly at the loss of contact, his lips red and slightly shiny in the dim light.

"Spencer," your tone was somewhere balancing on a thin line between affectionate and scolding. He was blushing, of passion, of something more akin to shame, you didn't know for sure. He was pleading, he was pawing at your hips again before you could utter the next word. "I'm not sure we should- you're still-" he winced at your careful words.

He gently pushed your hips towards his, softly, lovingly, like he had done a hundred times before, but this was different. "Please," his voice soft and almost breaking, "baby?" And with that plea, your hips slowly connected. How were you to refuse? Softly, you sat your weight down on him, terrified to hurt him, only thinking about his knee, his bruises, but Spencer only hummed when your core connected with his obvious hard-on.

"Are you alr-" his large hands were on the side of your face once more, drawing you in for another kiss. It was intoxicating, his lips moving against your own just the way you liked it, slow, but drawn out long and passionate, with Spencer's little sounds mixing in here and there to pull you under completely. You had missed this so much, this closeness, this heat, his lips and touches. But you could not get carried away, he was being rash, he needed to communicate. This could not be something that hurt him down the line.

You kissed him back softly, trying to take the heat out of the exchange, but he kept pouring it back in, deepening and deepening. You slid your hands into his hair, which he took as an affirmation to grind your hips into his. He let out a flustered sound at the contact, like a craving finally being met. But you had other plans. You pulled his hair softly, just the way he liked, but you pulled his face away from you. His eyes shone with betrayal, being unable to reach your lips now.

He couldn't look at you. This was not his usual way of initiating anything. He was always so communicative, so in search of consent and praise wherever he went. This sudden desperation worried you, like it was all just a cover, a trick.

Despite his lanky frame and current state, he was strong, he leaned forward (your mind immediately going to the purple splotches on his ribs) and buried his face in your neck, so as to not look at you. There he began planting small kisses, carefully, sweetly, like you knew him. But his hands also continued to grind your hips into his, seeking friction.

"Spencer- are- are you sure?" You gently offered, still combing through his hair, feeling his hot, now slightly quickened breath on your neck.

He only whined in response, only grinding you down more desperately on his lap.

"Spence, baby," you shushed, trying to convey that it was okay, that there was no need for this urgency, that you were not going anywhere. His breathing in the crook of your neck was frantic now. "Spencer," you tried again, as you softly ground down your hips on your own volition. Immediately his grip loosened, a small moan being drawn from his lips. You softly continued the movement, as it seemed to physically melt his pent up state back to the man you knew. The heat low in your belly started to burn at the edges from the friction his clear arousal warranted, but you ignored it in favour of checking in on Spencer.

You carefully cradled his head and brought it so you could look him in his eyes, but he kept them closed. As long as you continued the movement, his face stayed relaxed and borderline content, though you could still sense his frantic state in the occasional scrunch of his nose or the semblance of a frown pulling his eyebrows tight. You made the movements come to a halt, carefully inspecting Spencer's face, awaiting his reaction. His breath stuttered, probably from the sudden lack of friction, and his eyes slowly opened.

His big brown irises were overflowing with a desperation you thought only existed in Victorian novels. You could almost see the inner emotions of it all working, a glimpse of sadness, toppled over into guilt, pushed under by the sheer need for closeness, and then the fear of it. You carefully caressed his cheek with your thumb, "baby…", he immediately leaned into the contact. "I'm right here, okay?" Big brown doe eyes just peering back at you,

"I'm right here, but, you have to talk to me, Spence. I don't know what's going on in your head," your own voice sounded surprisingly small and sad to your ears, and Spencer winced at the words.

"I-" he opened his mouth and closed it again. You could see he was at a loss for words, that he probably also didn't know what was going on or where this was all coming from. "I'm, I'm so sorry" he spoke, his eyes wide and sincere, like he was just looking down on the situation for the first time. He let go of your hips at once, looking at his own hands with a degree of bewilderment, his eyes somewhat glassy as they floated back up to you.

"No- no, you don't have to apologise," you felt guilty at once, "there's nothing to be sorry about." A small smile formed on your lips, caressing the sides of his face once more. "Hey," you tilted his face to yours, eyes flickering over the gash in his eyebrow, down to the yellowing bruise high on his cheekbone, "It's alright."

He leaned into your touch, eyes fluttering closed at the gentle contact. "I'm sorry," he whispered once more, turning his face slightly to kiss your wrist softly as it passed by his lips. "I just, I just think I missed you… you know," a blush took over his cheeks, colour muddling with the bruises, "this… this way", his sentence trailed off towards the end.

"Oh," you felt your own cheeks burn at his gentle confession, "Oh, I- I didn't know," you were at a loss for words yourself now. You had been so caught up in caring for him that any physical intimacy honestly had just slipped your mind.

"No! No, no, no, you couldn't have known, I, I should have said something, but I didn't know how, you're so sweet, for taking care of me, I didn't want to ask for even more" he closed his eyes, furrowing his brows, mentally beating himself up, no doubt.

"Oh Spence," you leaned in slightly and softly pecked his lips, "I'm sorry, I just didn't think of it, honestly, I was so focussed on taking care of you, your knee and your bruises, I just got caught up in it all I think… I was just so worried-"

"Yeah, no!" he sounded slightly panicked. "I- oh God, I'm such an asshole," he pressed the palms of his hands against his eye sockets, "you're here taking care of me - excellently! Oh, so excellently, couldn't ask for anyone better, nicer, I mean- God, you're here caring for me and I'm just here complaining about not- not-" a deep blush found its way back onto his cheeks and he looked away, deflating just a little.

"Look," his eyes bored into yours again and this time they were soft around the edges, a little pleading, "I don't want you to think that you did anything wrong. At all. I just, it's all been so much, you know…"

"Of course, I know, baby," you stroked a stray lock of hair out of his face and he softly took a hold of your hand, rubbing small circles on the back of it.

"And you just, this just-" you quietly marvelled at how, still, after all this time, Spencer was just as bashful as the day you met, "brings me comfort?" his eyes were glued to your entangled hands. "I just really want you close, … this close." he sheepishly motioned to where your bodies connected.

The puzzle pieces fit. He just needed extra comfort, especially at a time like this. You smiled at him, hoping to calm the vibrations of nervous energy coming off of him. "Well, we can do that," you whispered, trying to make your voice soft and velvet to the touch. Spencer seemed to soften at the edges.

"Yeah?" his eyes impossibly wide and full of adoration.

"Of course, Spence," you kissed his lips softly, combing through his hair once more and staying closeby. "It's just, I'm scared of hurting you."

He peered up at you, hands finding your waist once more, "Don't be. I'm not made of glass."

You appreciated the false bravado, but you also knew the way he winced in pain every time he had to do as little as get dressed. You could hardly stand the little sounds of pain, the way his pretty eyes screwed shut. "Spencer,"

The pleading look was back. He kissed you softly, intimately, his lips finding yours like they were made to fit there, "we'll be careful," he promised against your lips.

"Very careful?" you asked as you lost yourself little by little in the kisses.

"Very careful." he confirmed, his voice low and breathy. God, you had missed seeing him like this, feeling him like this. The way he held your face while he kissed you, borderline possessive but mostly so insanely sweet. His tongue traced your puffy bottom lip, asking for entrance you gladly gave.

Your arms snaked around him for real this time, pulling him closer by his hair. He moaned into the kiss, a gentle vibration you hadn't known you missed so much until you tasted it again. He was hungry, hands tracing your body, but he was still so Spencer. So warm and lovely, large fingers caressing your sides and back like you were something to worship.

You revelled in his adoration, letting yourself melt against the familiar warmth of his body, the distant smell of his sweet cologne and shampoo. You couldn't help but moan softly when Spencer squeezed the soft flesh around your hips, only now realising how much you had missed his gentle touch.

You carefully brought your hands down from his hair and started undoing the top button of his pyjama shirt. Spencer smiled into the kiss, content with your cooperation no doubt. You never could deny the pretty boy in front of you anything after all.

The shirt falling away revealed a canvas of pale skin dotted with bruises in various shapes and colours. Peeling the fabric off his shoulders carefully, you finally broke the heated kiss and ventured to look down to his chest. Spencer eyed you carefully, not quite bashfully, but with an uncertainty in his eyes. You vowed to make it disappear at once.

Small kisses starting from his jawline found their way through the minefield of bruises, paying attention not to hurt him in the process. First his collarbones, then downwards to his chest and abdomen, you left no untouched space unkissed. Spencer revelled in your attention, your care, your love.

"Hey," he said softly. You looked up at him in the dim light, your hair falling in your eyes. He took your face into his hands and kissed you tenderly. His fingers found the hem of your t-shirt, gently lifting the edge until you raised your arms to let him pull it over your head. Wearing no bra, you were now topless sitting in his lap. Oh how you had missed seeing the warm brown of Spencer's eyes flash up into something sharper. He let his eyes roam over your body in a way closer to reverie than hunger, though you knew it possessed both. If he hadn't had an eidetic memory, you would almost believe he had actually forgotten what you looked like, the way he drank in the sight like it was his last meal.

You couldn't help but smile at him, a coy little gesture that Spencer returned as soon as his eyes made it back onto your face. "Missed you," you whispered softly.

"You have no idea," he replied.

Then his large hands slid up to your chest, one gently brushing your hair away over your shoulder, the other cupping one of your breasts in his palm. He massaged the soft skin gently while leaning forward to pepper your neck with kisses. You sighed into him contently, eyes closing upon the tender contact. His finger grazed over your nipple, making goosebumps spread over your arms like the fire did in your belly. A soft sound escaped you, not quite a whine, but not far from either. You felt Spencer smile against your skin, the kisses turning to little nips as he neared your collarbones.

Your eyes shot open as you heard Spencer wince. "Spence?"

He shied away at the concern in your voice. "It's nothing," he assured. "Just, um, overdid it." He had leaned too far into you, the bruises on his ribs not quite allowing him to. "I'm fine, you're just, well," he raked his fingers through his hair and let his soft smile return, "well look at you, how could I not."

You tried not to worry, to let yourself melt back into the moment. "Well, let me help you, then," you purred, coming up off your knees so your chest was on his eye level.

"Perfect…" Spencer mused, more to himself than anyone else, before he recommenced his sweet attack on your skin. Flicking his thumb over one nipple, he took the other one in his mouth and swirled his tongue around it. Your head almost fell back, but you wanted to enjoy the sight before you. Remembering exactly what you liked, Spencer's skilled hands and mouth worked over the soft skin of your breasts until you were a whining puddle in his arms, just how he liked you.

And now it wasn't Spencer that was eager, no, you had felt yourself grow wetter for him with every passing second, and the want and need of the last few days washed over you in waves of anticipation. Your hands instinctively went to the hem of his pyjama bottoms when he came up for air, and you ran your finger along the waistband teasingly.

Spencer looked up at you dazedly, big puppy eyes glazed over with lust, a sweet smirk playing on his lips. You carefully slid off of him, helping him out of his pants and boxer briefs, careful not to hurt him. Your heart ached a little when you heard him hiss in pain and steady himself, but you reminded yourself that you both wanted this. Once his pants were off, you shimmied your own plaid pyjama shorts and panties down your legs, now sitting completely naked on the bed next to Spencer.

"C'mere," Spencer reached out his hands for you to take, affection muffling his otherwise perfect diction.

His broad hands positioned you back into his lap where you belonged. The kiss that followed was hungry. Hungrier than you had ever felt Spencer before. His hands were everywhere on your body, grabbing your hips, smoothing down your back, on your tits, you felt him everywhere, except where you needed him most.

You whined into his mouth, "Spence, please."

His eyes glinted with something akin to mischief, and his teasing words of "Aw, is my baby so eager?" would almost be convincing, if he wasn't hard and desperate himself right underneath you. So you moved your hips slightly, your folds dragging over his erection. That shut him up real quick.

"Cat got your tongue?" You purred, drinking in the feeling of his skin on yours once more.

Spencer's long, dark lashes fanned out on his cheeks as he breathed heavily from the friction. The sight was from a movie, the prettiest boy you had ever seen, bruised up, but revelling in feeling your body. You wanted him, needed him.

You slowly lifted your hips, careful not to put too much of your weight on him, and let Spencer position himself at your opening. The anticipation in the air was sweet, almost stifling, you could already taste the sweet release.

Spencer dragged his tip though your folds, spreading the wetness that had accumulated up to your clit, circling it a few times before going back to your entrance.

"So wet for me, baby."

"I'll be gentle, yeah?" you checked with him.

"Yeah, hm, sure," his eyes flickered up from where you two almost connected to your face, "god, i need you, please."

Who were you to deny? You sank down slowly, just the tip at first, and the stretch was already delicious enough to warrant the soft, whining sound leaving your lips. Spencer looked dizzy with it, patiently waiting on you while he steadied your hips. You sank further down on him. God, you had missed feeling him inside you.

When you had taken all of him, you tried to check in on whether this position was comfortable for him, but instead you were pulled into another desperate kiss. His tongue was in your mouth in seconds, making you lightheaded with the eagerness Spencer poured into you. He moved his hips up, thrusting into you once, and it felt amazing, but he winced into the kiss.

"Babe, Spence," you halted the kiss, "let me do the work now, please," you gently pushed him back against the pillows, "let me take care of you, yeah?"

He looked up at you straddling him, hair messy and cheeks red. "Yeah, yeah, sorry," he replied bashfully, his voice hoarse and deep with want.

You rolled your hips into his, soft but deep. His pretty lips, red from being kissed stupid, parted and he made a delicious sound that went right to your core. You continued to roll your hips, trying to get leverage to ride him, but not wanting to put pressure on his bruises.

"Here," Spencer positioned one of your hands on his chest and one on his shoulder. "And no, it doesn't hurt there," he replied to the silent question in your eyes. You believed him.

With the new leverage points, you could ride his dick properly. The sensation was dizzying, feeling him so deep inside you. The drag of your clit against his skin with every bounce was delicious, making you moan into Spencer's neck.

Spencer's hands were moving your hips along with you, squeezing and petting along with his own shallow breaths. He started attacking your neck with kisses again, open-mouthed and sloppy this time, leaving marks for you to discover in the morning, no doubt.

The drag of him against your insides was maddening. The position gave you all the control and with just a bit of Spencer's help, you found the spot that made you go crazy every time his tip grazed it.

"That's it, that's it, oh god, keep going," the desperation is Spencer's voice set your core on fire. The way he said your name over and over sounded like a prayer, like a man starved. He moaned unabashedly when you sunk down on his entire length, looking at you like you personally cured all of his pain.

"Spence, you feel so good," you practically whimpered, and Spencer nearly came right there and then. He held you closer, nearly all of you touching, like he couldn't get enough of you.

The way you moved together was perfect, a practised ease that came with knowing each other so well that you knew exactly what the other loved most.

"Fuck, baby, oh, I'm- I'm not gonna last much longer," Spencer said though laboured breaths as he snaked his arm between your bodies.

You were already close, but when you felt Spencer's skilled fingers on your clit, you knew you were done for.

"Come with me?" Spencer spoke into your ear, planting more soft kisses on your jaw.

Once again, who were you to deny him anything? With a loud moan from you and a stutter of Spencer's hips, you both came together, your release washing over you in white hot waves of pleasure, with Spencer buried deep inside of you. You rode out both your highs, seeing Spencer's eyes gloss over in real time once the satisfaction settled.

He smiled his wide, dopey smile at you, the picture of contentment, an entirely different version of himself than the one before. You returned the smile, carefully draping yourself over his chest, completely spent.

"Hey," Spencer whispered into the quiet air, "I can't do it for you, now, but you'll have to go clean up, sweetheart."

"Mmm," you bury your face in his neck, "I will, I will." You could hear the overflowing fondness in his laugh that followed.

"Hey," he said again, smaller this time, "thanks for taking care of me."

You languidly sat up, staring into his big, earnest eyes. Your fingers pushed his hair out of his eyes, revealing the cut above it. You leaned forward to kiss his forehead. "Was that an innuendo, Doctor Reid?"

He burst out into an unexpected laugh, his eyes twinkling again, "maybe, maybe."

🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷

I am but a humble fanfic writer and i beg for your feedback guys :))))))) xxxxxxxx

#criminal minds #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid smut #Spencer reid x reader #Spencer reid x reader smut #criminal minds fanfic #Spencer reid x you #smut #wounded men #it's a problem #I have such a thing for them it's unhealthy oops

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futbolfatale · 2 days ago

Text

Origin Story PT 2

Pairing: Alpha Alexia Putellas/Omega Reader, Omega Mapi León/Omega Reader, Alpha Ingred Engen/Omega Reader,

Summary: You get invited to a Barca game by an Alpha at your school who wouldn't accept.

WordCount: 0.7K

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Okay, maybe going to the after-party was a stupid idea you stumble your way to your 7 am lecture with a pounding headache and an ache in your cunt. You left Mapi’s apartment at 5 and caught a cab to get to your apartment so you could change and get to class on time. There is no doubt that you reek like them, but you didn't have time to shower and get to class on time. Leaving early had the added benefit of avoiding any awkward conversations since they didn’t know where you went to school, and you hadn’t exchanged numbers with any of them. Surely they wouldn’t want to see you again after last night. You can’t help but wonder what life would be like if you were with them, as unbelievable as that is. How happy you would be if you had always had a special connection to the omegas in your life, and this pack has two, so it's like heaven for you.

Your lectures wrap up about four hours later, and you trail out into the hall, trying to avoid Maddie like the plague. But her lily and patulio scent hits you like a brick wall, making you stop in your tracks. It seems your efforts are for nothing as Maddie rounds the corner, walking directly toward you. So, of course, you, like any normal person, turn and start speed walking away from her. “Are you seriously running away from me right now?” She growled, snatching your wrist. “Oh, sorry, Maddie, I didn’t see you.” You smile falsely at her. “You owe me. I can’t believe you just abandoned me at the game, You could have at least helped me out.” She glances down at her sweats, and your eyes naturally follow. “I don’t believe I owe you anything.” You try to pull away, but her grip stays strong. She pulls your hand to palm her cock through her sweat and you bite back bile.

“Bebita, there you are,” a voice down the hall calls at you, the strong scent of (Insert Here) filling the hall. “Oh, so you're a slut just not for me” Maddie spits. “Get your hands off my omega,” Alexia growls. She grabs Maddie’s wrist, holding it so hard that you fear it might snap. “And who do you think you are?” Maddie tries to pull away, but can’t, and a look of fear crosses her face. Alexia just pushes her away and pulls you behind her and out of the school quickly. “How did you know I was here?” You ask as Alexia helps you into her car.

“I made a call, Mapi and Ona were so sad when they woke up, so I promised to come find you and let them tell you how much of a bad girl you are.” She leans across you to buckle your seatbelt, and her scent overwhelms you. “Im the bad girl’ you ask, slightly annoyed with her. “You left without saying anything. It won’t be safe for you by yourself anymore.” Alexia warns as she pulls out of the parking lot. It hits you that you are in a car with this woman you barely know; this is the beginning of every kidnapping. “Maybe I should go.” You try to pull on the door, but it’s childproof.

“Wherever you want to go, I’ll take you, but you can’t go alone.” Her eyes never once leave the road as she speaks. “And why can’t I go alone?” You say with some bite, your scent no doubt turning sour. “The paparazzi will be all over you. Pictures from the party are all over. Plus, I wouldn’t be surprised if my pups were already in you.” She smirks, and it makes you want to bite her and not in a sexy way. “I can’t have your pup. I can't have anyone pup in school full time.” You try to open the door again to no avail. “Mapi and Ona can’t have pups till they retire. We need you.” Alexia’s voice has turned to a needy whine. “So you want me to be a baby maker?”

“No, I want you to be our omega, and pups would be an added bonus. Just see if you like it for one week. If you hate it, you can go back to school, and we will leave you alone,” Alexia promises. “ I can’t not go to school; I’ll lose my scholarship.” You are over this whole conversation, but she doesn’t seem to be letting it go. “ I will sponsor your school, please. Just try, that's all im asking you. ”I can even make up a contract if that will make you feel better. Alexia looks like a kicked puppy, and you can’t kick her again. “Fine, one week”.

#woso x reader #woso community #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso soccer #woso one shot #woso #alexia putellas x reader #mapi leon x reader #ingrid engen x reader

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clairewritesfanfics · 3 days ago

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What would you think about a Reader that has precognition powers, like Garnet from Steven Universe or Bruno from Encanto? With the Mark variants finding and rescuing them from a highly secret and highly guarded GDA facility, because that kind of power Cecil would definitely want under his control.

Author's Note: I'm so sorry this took so long, I had to rewrite numerous times. I kept hating what I wrote. At first this was supposed to be several headcanons, then actual imagines, then it became a one-shot. Anyway, anon, you didn't give specific pronouns, but I hope you don't mind that Reader is AFAB here. It just naturally unfurled that way. Also, I'm unfamiliar with the Steven Universe lore so I just went with Bruno's and just foresight powers in general.

Working title: The Idea of You

Reader Character Settings: AFAB, she/her

Characters: Flaxan, Mohawk, Omni-Mark, Shiesty, Genderbent Mark, Full Mask, Target/Striped, Head Cap, Sinister, Prisoner, Viltrumite

Trigger Warnings: Swearing.

You were in the middle of painting. It was not a prophecy or vision, just a regular painting of some beach you’ve only seen from an encyclopedia.

As you brushed the finishing touches, the wall behind you exploded.

Strong, alien arms wrapped around your waist before you could turn.

Your panic was somewhat dulled when the person holding you spoke, “You’re safe...” The voice was masculine.

“Um,” you began, “I’m sorry but can you let go of me first?”

A low, amused chuckle was his reply. He didn’t let go but he did loosen his hold, allowing you to twist in his embrace and look at the man who just broke through your prison.

Locks of raven hair lazily fell over giant bug-like goggles. He wore a white and blue-green suit that reminded you of Buzz Lightyear, and of those insectoid wannabe invaders that showed up in your nightmares and on your various works of art.

A lot of things were different, but you have seen this man in many visions. You recognized that jawline anywhere.

Your fingers traced over the strong lines of his face. “You’re Markus Grayson.”

He stared at your hand and you pulled back. “I’m sorry, I’ve never–”

“–never talked to a real person before? I figured as much, you told me that.”

You understood immediately. “So that’s why your costume is different. You’re not from here, are you?”

He shook his head. “I’ll explain everything on the way out.”

“Out?” You bounced forward until your nose almost bumped into his mouth. “You’re really going to take me outside? Can you take me to Burger Mart? I always see it but I’ve never been.”

His face softened. “I’ll take you anywhere you want, sugar.”

Your stomach did flips at the pet name. “Okay.” You beamed.

He hooked his arm under your knees and secured you to his chest. “Cover your eyes.”

“Why?”

“I don’t want you to see.”

You had a feeling that’s all he was going to say, and you would rather not irritate your liberator, so you obediently covered your face.

You moved in the darkness, the odor of blood stung your nose. The halls were hot but Lightyear never let you go and soon, you could feel the cold air nip at your skin.

“You can look now,” he informed you.

Your pupils strained at the sudden brightness.

When your eyes finally adjusted, you wrung your arms around Markus’ neck. You must’ve been hundreds of feet off the ground.

He chuckled. “It’s all right, I won’t ever let you go.”

Once your pulse calmed down, you took another peek at the world below. Everything seemed so inconsequential, like the dollhouse someone left in your bedroom while you slept several birthdays ago.

“I’m finally free,” you muttered. You turned to the burning Pentagon. “That’s where they kept me, right?”

“Yes.”

“Did you do that? Is that why you asked me not to look?”

He didn’t answer.

You watched the growing flames lick the sky.

He opened his mouth and closed it again.

“It’s okay. It was bound to happen, if not you, something else. The only difference is that if it weren’t you, I probably would have burned alive with the rest of them.”

“You’re not sad?”

“A little. It was my home, after all. But it’s funny, I’ve seen so many things thanks to my power, but I’ve never seen a future where I got out.” You gave him a teary smile. “So thank you, Markus Grayson.”

His face was unreadable until he smiled back. “You can just call me Mark.”

“Okay–”

“Well, what do we have here?”

Mark tensed as a third person arrived. It was Mark, again, but this version didn’t wear a mask or a cowl and his hair was shaved into a rowdy mohawk.

“You were supposed to destroy the GDA fuckers’ HQ, no one said anything about stealing.”

Mark Lightyear’s voice was taut and cold as he spoke, “Is that truly all you have to say? Because it seems to me like you’re angry that you didn’t get to play white knight.”

Mohawk’s arrogant smirk twisted into a scowl. “Hand her over.”

You flinched.

“You’re scaring her.”

“Fine, let’s set her down somewhere and talk things out, Mark to Mark, then we can decide who takes her home with them.”

“You’re way in over your head, kid.”

Mohawk snarled and charged forward but Mark dodged at the last minute. “Hold on,” he ordered before blasting through the clouds.

You couldn’t hear your own screams with the angry whipping of air around you.

He didn’t slow down until you two reached the middle of the Pacific.

“I’m sorry, I had to be fast.”

You waved his apology off, unable to reply with your breakfast threatening to leave the way it came.

“Don’t worry, we should be safe for now. They shouldn’t be here.”

You breathed steadily. “I’m all right but… you really shouldn’t say things like that.”

“Like what?”

“Things that tempt fate.”

He smiled. “You always said that.”

He reached to touch your cheek but you gently stopped him.

“I don’t know what you expect from me,” you said slowly, “but I can’t replace what you lost.”

“...I know.”

“You’re not angry?”

“I can never be angry with you.”

“So why did you help me?”

His smile turned sad. “Because it’s you.”

Your heart fluttered with envy and warmth. If you met the Mark Grayson of this timeline, then would someone love you like this too?

“I know you mentioned wanting to go to Burger Mart, but it’s too risky to bring you to places full of people.”

“Yeah, I guessed as much.”

“I can take you somewhere else though.”

***

“Hey, if it gets thick enough, can we try eating the snow?”

You were as giddy as a Siberian Husky at the sight of powdery snow pouring on Mount Fuji. Mark refused to land though, and you were still in pajamas, so you can only admire from afar.

“Do you have any idea how polluted the air is on this planet? You’re not eating the snow.”

You laughed. “I’m kidding, you grump. But you gotta admit it’s tempting, it’s so pure and white, like vanilla ice cream. Donald used to give me the same vanilla ice cream cake every birthday.”

“I thought you never talked to anyone before.”

“I haven’t. I didn’t even know it was Donald who sent me cake, when I woke up, it would always just be on the table. But I saw him once in my vision, he was carrying the box from the bakery to his car. I’m going to miss him.”

“...I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, it’s not like we had an actual relationship.” This was the problem with precognition. You saw things others didn’t want you to see, and it deluded you into thinking you had a connection with them.

“We should go,” Mark said after a while.

“Can’t we stay for a little longer? Just a little?”

“You can admire the snow and more mountains when we get home, I promise.”

“So it’s true.”

Your skin prickled as you felt a hot, intense gaze behind you.

You reluctantly lifted your head and saw Mark with spikier hair and draped in red and white. Even you could tell that he was more dangerous than the mohawk guy.

“Why would you bring her here wearing just that? She could freeze to death.”

“I’m afraid that’s none of your concern, and don’t worry, we were about to leave.”

“You’re not going anywhere with my wife.”

The air buzzed.

Mark looked at you and whispered, “I’m sorry.”

“For–AAAAHHHHH!” He threw you into the air.

Lightyear intercepted Omni-Mark before he could even react.

You were still screaming and flying when someone else caught you.

“Holy crap, you’re real.” A blue veil flapped in the wind. “Fuck, I thought that lensless freak was shitting with me about what he saw but you’re real. And that bug fucker tried to steal you away.”

“Uuh…”

“Hey, don’t be scared. It’s cute but you got nuthin’ to be afraid of.” He grabbed the hem of his shiesty and pulled it back, revealing the face of, who else, Mark Grayson. “It’s me, babe.”

“I-I don’t–”

“You’re as luminous as ever. Am I using that right? You said I was luminous once, it was during our first dance together under the moon.”

“I’m not who you think I am.”

He shook his head. “I know you’re a different version, but it’s still you, and that’s all that matters to me.”

That… is disturbing. Did the other versions of you have magic vaginas or something? How are these men so obsessed with the idea of you?

“Come on, let’s go–”

“I don’t think so,” it was a feminine voice this time.

Shiesty clicked his tongue as someone hovered closer.

This Mark was a girl. She was, naturally, gorgeous; she could pass for an idol, though her physique was more Amazonian than delicate. Her thick black hair was tied into a long braid and she didn’t wear any goggles or mask.

“Enough. We all need to talk about this properly.”

You squeaked when Shiesty nearly crushed you against his chest.

Girl Mark glowered at him. “You’re hurting her.”

He stopped and you could finally inhale.

“I agree.” Another one appeared, his head, face and neck were covered with a mask that seamlessly blended with the rest of his sleek onyx costume. You assumed he was also a Mark. “We’ll kill her if we keep passing her around like a football.”

“She’s no good to anyone splattered on the ground,” taunted one Mark dressed like a bee. When he saw you looking at him he smirked. “Don’t worry, honey. You know I would never let anyone hurt you, not even myself.”

Another Mark with stripes on the sides of his arms tried to float closer towards you but Shiesty pulled you away. Stripes sighed. “Fine, let’s call a truce. For now.”

“That sounds like a plan,” agreed a bald Mark. When he caught your lingering stare, he averted his own and rubbed the back of his neck.

Mohawk was here as well. You could see specks of blood on the philtrum of his nose. “Only if none of you fucktards try to steal her away while we ‘talk.’”

Beside him was a Mark whose head was covered by a blue cap.

Head Cap Mark waved at you, then he blew a kiss.

Mohawk elbowed him.

A Mark Grayson draped in metallic gray and pearl white floated towards the growing circle. “I am willing to cooperate, so long as she–” brown eyes, dark enough to be black, fell over you “–is not put in danger.”

Omni-Mark and Lightyear finally joined. They were both bleeding and panting, but punching each other’s brains out has calmed them down.

Without thinking, you reached inside your pocket and offered a handkerchief to Lightyear.

If looks could kill, he would have been reduced to meatballs with the number of jealous glares directed at him.

“Hey, no fair!” The cheeriest sounding Mark yet shot between you and Lightyear. This Mark’s mask had no goggles. He had cuts all over his pretty face. “What about me? I have way more injuries than him!” He pouted.

“Same here!”

“Me too!”

“Me three!”

Omni-Mark scoffed. “Children.”

Lightyear glared at him. “You’re one to talk.”

“You wanna go–”

“Achoo!”

Brown eyes and unreadable goggles turned to you.

You rubbed your nose and sniffed.

As though a switch had been flipped, the ragtag bunch fell into an organized rhythm.

They systematically split up in small groups, leaving you in the hands of Shiesty, who carried you away from the mountain. Omni-Mark and Lightyear followed you like guard dogs.

You four stopped at a nearby beach with a tolerable temperature.

“Whoa.” Your eyes sparkled at the sight of the sea.

“You smell that, doll?”

You nodded.

“There’s nothing quite like the smell of the beach.” Shiesty let you down, the soft sand tickled your toes.

Once he let you go, you started running towards the waves.

Lightyear and Omni-Mark tried to call you back, to be careful, but Shiesty raised his hand. “Let her be. She needs this.”

You slowed down before your feet could touch the water. You pulled at the legs of your pajama bottoms, took a big gulp of fresh air, and stepped into the sea. The sand beneath your feet was pulled back by the tides and it felt like the ocean itself was trying to grab you, too.

You giggled. If you died right now, it wouldn’t be good, but…

You looked at the horizon, where the sky kissed the sea. Endless. Beautiful. “It wouldn’t be too bad if this is the last thing I see.”

A heavy fur coat was draped over your shoulders. “As if I’d let that happen.” Girl Mark had found her way next to you. Slowly, she dropped her legs into the water. “You seem calm, all things considered.”

“Well, once I got over the multiple versions of you coming here to destroy Earth and take me away, I realized that this situation isn't that bad.”

Her laugh was sweet and light, nothing like the loud coarseness or restrained rumbling of her male counterparts. “What counts as ‘bad’ in your book?”

“Dying before I got to see the outside world would have sucked." You glanced at the azure sky. "I've seen countless futures, but in not one of them was I ever free.”

Her coffee eyes regarded you with a solemn longing and a hint of pity. She looked at the horizon. “You know what you called me? In my universe I mean.”

You shook your head.

“You called me Marcy.”

“Marcy as in–”

“–as in the Vampire Queen.”

You both laughed.

“So your name is Marceline?”

“Nah, but I used to be super pale, like paper-white pale. The other girls in our school called me all sorts of names, like White Lady or Sadako or Samara. But you said I was more like a badass vampire and that I shouldn’t listen to them, because they were jealous of me and how I ‘glow like the moon.’”

“You really do glow like the moon.”

She snickered. “Thanks.”

“In your world, I really went to school?”

“Yeah. All girls.”

“Was I smart?”

“Smarter than me.”

Your stomach boomed and you covered it shyly.

She giggled and offered her hand. “C’mon, we should go before those idiots start throwing a tantrum.”

You grabbed her hand but didn’t move. “What do you think’s going to happen to me?”

“You’re the one who can see the future here, bubblegum.”

“But…”

“It’s going to be okay,” she said, squeezing your hand.

“How can you be sure?”

“I’m not, but that’s the great thing about the future, right? Unlike the past, it’s not set in stone.”

You gawked.

She understood you.

There is no such thing as the future, only a future, and if a person is living life the right way then they have multiple futures.

You tried to explain that to the mirrors in your room that you knew were cameras.

Trying to find which one of those futures will likely happen is like fishing for a very specific type of fish in the middle of the ocean without knowing if it's even a saltwater species.

Now, your power wasn't totally useless, it has helped prepare for earthquakes and stop terrorist attacks in the past. Hell, you've helped prevent murders. But those were all luck-based more than they were actual prophecies; if a floor is wet, there is a chance of slipping, so to protect oneself they will tread carefully, hold onto something for support, or avoid that route entirely.

You gazed into Marcy’s eyes. “Right.”

Behind her, several Marks had started yelling at each other.

She sighed. “Let’s go and stop them before they destroy the beach.”

“You, I can understand, but how am I supposed to stop those guys?”

A perfectly shaped eyebrow arched at you. “Please. If there is one person on this entire planet that they’re going to listen to, it’s you.”

“If you say so.”

She smiled and tugged you forward–

You gasped, nearly dropping your palette and messing up the canvas in front of you.

You stared at the hand holding the paintbrush. You could still feel Marcy’s comforting touch.

You smiled and applied the finishing touches to your painting.

This author has several things to say:

I have a love/hate relationship with action scenes. When I know what I want, everything flows like water, but jksdfhhsdfl I just really do not like writing action scenes, they tend to feel repetitive.

I tried my best to give the Marks individual personalities, but I'm still unsure with what to do sometimes. (also, as I write this, I realize that I forgot to include Sinister and Target so after I write this note, I'm going to have to brainstorm again cheesus.)

I have never seen snow fall from the sky either.

I am very gay for Marcy.

Disclaimer: The image used in this post does not belong to writerclaire. It was lifted from: https://gamerant.com/invincible-all-alternate-dimension-invincibles-fates/

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revelboo · 1 day ago

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it’s my birthday today and I turn 22, got to celebrate with lots of presents, loads of keychains and themed sticky notes for my cubicle at work 😄

Can we get some more tarn! I need that evil sociopath 👀👀 how’s reader holding up anyway 😂

Happy birthday! Reader is very carefully feeling him out now that they can understand each other

L.G. FUAD Pt 18

Tarn x Reader

• Stunned speechless that he can understand you, that you can talk to each other and aren’t limited to very bad charades anymore, you’re half tempted to go off on him. To scream about the bath, the food, the soap. Every atrocity he’s unwittingly visited on you. But it’s not escaped you that your survival is dependent on him. And while he seems to like you, it’s the affection of a pet owner for their pet. You’re not sure if he’ll tolerate being told off by the equivalent of his space gerbil. “These are coverings and human food?” Tarn asks, attention on the bins as he slides you into one hand and just grabs stuff. Apparently confiscating stuff for you and the little guy doesn’t even try to argue as he takes what he wants. Now that he knows you’re not a pet, he has to take you home, right? You can talk to him, he knows you’re sentient. He seems reasonable for a giant, alien robot, so he has to listen.

• “Big guy?” You ask and he glances at you in his palm, wide eyes staring up at him. That’s what you’ve been calling him? ‘Tarn,’ he corrects gently, watching Swindle fetch an empty container for him, scrambling to help because he wants him off the ship and far away. Dumping his handful of human things in the small bin, he stares the smaller mech down daring him to protest as he grabs more things for you, especially food. “Tarn, right,” you say and he hesitates, surprised that he likes the sound of his name on your lips, that it does wholly inappropriate things to him. “I really appreciate you taking care of me.” Amused, he slides a servo against your jaw, grabbing the bin in his other hand and turning. Heading back to his own ship without a word. Knowing Swindle will be terrified the whole time that the DJD’s ship will fire on his and he smiles slowly behind his mask. A little fear will be good for the mech.

• Leaning against him as he goes through the airlocks back into his ship, he glances at you, red optics brightening slightly behind his mask. “I appreciate that you didn’t mention the accidental poisonings,” he murmurs and you wince. Though, the unwanted bath and unintentional groping had been worse. “For something so small, you’re surprisingly difficult to keep alive.” Smiling thinly as your jaw works, you inhale. Reminding yourself that you need to stay on his good side. Still need his help. Can’t tell him what you really think of his ‘care.’

• “And I appreciate that you did your best,” you say, expression strained to make him clear his vents with an amused huff. Do you not realize how expressive your little face is? How easily he can read you? “But I really need to go home.” And he rumbles, optics narrowing. ‘We are going home,’ he says, purposefully misunderstanding, because he likes having you around. Doesn’t want to lose your warmth or your affection. You’re his. And now that he can understand you, he has someone to talk to, because the rest of the DJD can be exhausting. “Not your ship, my home. My planet? Earth?” Venting, he uses a servo to tip your chin up.

• “I’m afraid that’s impossible,” he growls, striding through the halls of his ship and you see one of his scary buddies turn to give him a look, because he’s speaking your language. “Your home is here.” Yeah, except it’s not. Emotional support space gerbil to a giant, alien robot isn’t at all appealing to you. But there’s a look in his red optics when his head tips to stare at you that makes your argument die a swift, trembling death when you just want to argue. Remembering when he’d snarled at you and you’d stopped breathing. That he’d done something to you.

#transformers x reader #tarn x reader #mtmte tarn

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cherspastries · 6 hours ago

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Cher!! I love your writing and you aesthetic so much :)

You’re a graphic designer yeah? What driver do you think would work well with a graphic designer reader, and on that note, what occupation do you think each driver’s s/o would have?

And do you do emoji anons? 👀 If so can I be 🫧?

I LOVE HER AS SHE IS,

DOING HER THING!

WORK IT!

2025 Grid x Reader

SUMMARY 𐙚 What jobs I think each driver’s girlfriend would have + how you first met.

WARNINGS 𐙚 Fluff, reader is described with feminine terms, mentions of alcohol / handling alcohol, not proofread

WORD COUNT 𐙚 6.3K

A/N 𐙚 Hi!! Tysm I love my theme, and yes I do accept emoji anons! Hello 🫧 !! Also, before I actually write, I love all the WAGs and respect their jobs, but I wanted to romanticize this a bit so… All the drivers are getting hypothetical new girlfriends with weird and interesting occupations and personalities

DIRECTORY | MASTERLIST | REQUESTS: OPEN

RedBull ෆ

Max Verstappen

Bartender

You cannot convince me this man isn’t always in need of a drink. Whether he’s celebrating or he’s upset, Max likes a good gin and tonic. Sure, he can make his own, but nobody makes it as good as his lovely girlfriend: a bartender. That’s right! He met you at a club in Monaco, of course. It was after he had won a grand prix, and he kept coming back for more and more alcohol until he was blackout drunk. You had to call him a cab home, and he kept mumbling about how beautiful and perfect you were. When he came back to retrieve his lost phone the next day, he apologized and properly asked you out.

But it’s also nice because Max’s favorite way to relax with you is to lay across the couch, drink in hand, and watching a show you both enjoy. He doesn’t want to overwork you, but if you offer to whip something up real fast, he’s definitely not going to say no to your hard work and encourage you to keep doing what you love. Side note, I genuinely think he loves being able to party at the club you work at. He loves getting to enjoy a night out, but also being able to visit you whenever he wants. His friends have stopped wondering where he’s ran off to after they found out who was behind the bar. They shouldn’t be surprised when he disappears every five minutes to go chat you up again. Sometimes regular patrons give him dirty looks because they think he’s hitting on you inappropriately, but then you flash the matching set of rings and they simmer down.

Yuki Tsunoda

Seamstress

I’ll be honest, I was unsure about this one, but I honestly think it makes a lot of sense. Yuki has really good style, so I had a feeling his partner should be related to fashion. However, seamstress was a bit of a stretch. I think you’d make a lot of clothes for him, which is why he has such great style to begin with. He’s wearing handmade, high quality patchwork hoodies and jeans and shoes that you decorated yourself, all made by you! So yeah, whenever someone compliments his very fitting form of fashion, he lets you know that the people are certainly admiring your work. Do we all remember when the internet went crazy over Yuki wearing his RedBull shirt unbuttoned? Yeah. All you.

He first met you when you were still just a fan. Some might argue the dynamic seems inappropriate, but you were never a huge fan of him specifically. Just… An F1 fan. You sewed shirts for the RedBull team, and they weren’t the typical tacky wear that the team usually received. These had lots of thought and enthusiasm put into them— He could only imagine how hard and how long you have slaved away making those, so he wore it with pride… Even if it was a tad bit too big. After that, he kept seeing you in the paddock, communicating with various engineers and drivers, collecting autographs like it was your job. He complimented your work, you introduced yourself, and the rest was history. So yeah, you ended up falling for the irresistible charm of Yuki Tsunoda, and honestly who can blame you?

Mercedes ෆ

George Russell

Graphic designer

Yes, okay. This is my line of work, and I honestly believe George would be the most supportive for a graphic designer out of everyone. I mean, he at least thinks he knows fashion and technology, so he assumes that he’s being helpful. I can see the two of you being high school sweethearts that pursued different paths, but stuck together. Of course you knew George was into racing at the time, because he was karting even back then, but you never expected him to reach such fame. He even managed to get to a job with the FIA, designing graphics for winners and podiums and such, so yeah. People have been silently appreciating your work for years. You’re the one who gets to see all the unused winner graphics.

Whenever you’re working on a project, you consult George. Even though half the time you don’t listen to his advice, it’s nice to get somebody else’s opinion and support. You know he’ll be honest instead of giving you that “it’s perfect the way it is” bullshit, so his unfiltered opinion is just what you need to get a sense of what the right direction might be. He used to sugarcoat it, but you eventually told him that his honesty wouldn’t hurt your feelings, and he started to be more open. Not that it was rude, because his opinions were still helpful and polite! He always tops it off with a kiss and a wish of good luck. He knows you’ll make the right decision.

Kimi Antonelli

Tutor

Alright. We all have fun joking about Kimi needing a math tutor, but what if he doesn’t. Because his girlfriend is one. You know? You’re still in school, just like him, so you make a lot of money by people paying you to help them out in classes. Yes, Kimi needs a nerd girlfriend I feel it in my SOUL. Now, contrary to popular belief, you actually don’t tutor him. Why? Because he gets distracted by you very easily. He can’t stop looking at your pretty eyes, your plump lips, and your soft hair. All he wants is to bury his face in your neck and lay on top of you 24/7/365, because you’re so soft and warm. So no, you don’t tutor him. You can’t tutor him. You’ve tried. You’ve failed.

He brings you to the Imola Grand Prix, happily showing you off and introducing you to all of his track mates with that huge boyish grin. He tells them all that you’re just his tutor, and that afterwards you’ll be in his drivers room teaching him the pythagorean theorem (which he doesn’t even know how to pronounce in any language, mind you, so he’s just stumbling over syllables to get the idea out.) You correct him and politely let them know you’re actually his girlfriend. They all tease him, insisting that this whole story was just an excuse to sneak you into his room for a cheeky make out session, which you both quickly deny with flushed cheeks and slight stutters. Looks like he’s been caught before he could even try.

Ferrari ෆ

Charles Leclerc

Fashion designer

Now this isn’t to say that Charles doesn’t already have good fashion sense, because he definitely does. However, I do think that after the two of you started dating, there was a noticeable change in his choices. He started to dress in a manner that was suitable to his… Well, everything. He had custom made clothes with logos pertaining to him on them, everything matched his face and body shape, and he was dressed to an absolute T. All thanks to you! He doesn’t even have to ask, you just quietly sketch up designs for jackets and shirts that he can proudly show off at races, and you’ve even helped him customize merch that is both affordable, and fits the aesthetic of most of his fans. Goodbye trashy t-shirts with a logo lazily slapped on, and hello well thought out designs.

You were definitely hired to design some of his merch after the team saw your concept sketches. He was completely clueless to your arrival, but once he saw you he knew there was something irresistible that surrounded you. Your aura was undeniably attractive, and you were a genius when it came to your job. Of course. He loved your sense of fashion, so Charles discreetly asked you out to go get coffee and discuss things some more. Except, the two of you ended up talking and laughing the entire time, so of course you had to reschedule. And then you had to reschedule again because the same thing happened. Then finally you realized what he was doing, and asked him out on an official date. From then on, he proudly showed you off as his girlfriend. No more hiding!

Lewis Hamilton

Makeup artist

Yes, both of the Ferrari boys have their fashion girlfriends. I think if they existed in the same universe they’d be really good friends, too. I think Lewis loves to listen to you rant about different qualities of makeup, and how different makeups can affect break-outs on skin, and how to prevent all that. There’s a lot that goes into your line of work, and he never gets tired of hearing it. I think his favorite thing is hearing you talk about different color palettes and how you decide what colors suit a client best. You’ve definitely done similar things on him, and he stays true to your advice and tries to mix those colors in to his outfits. He also refuses to hire anyone but you to do his makeup for events, and he brings you everywhere he can. Trust that you were attached at the hip during the Met Gala, and that he was announcing to everyone he met that you did his makeup, and how talented you are. Watch out because you’re gonna have so many clients coming your way.

Unlike Charles and his girlfriend, you were not hired to work for him when you met. It was actually more of a meet cute— He was asking for advice in your local beauty shop, because he figured you looked like you knew what you were doing and could tell him what the correct shade of blush was for his niece, who was clinging to his side. You were in awe because holy shit, the Lewis Hamilton was asking you for advice, which you gave while stammering to an embarrassing extent. He thanked you, and asked for your number with the excuse that he might need more advice in the future. You did not hesitate to give it to him, and while he didn’t call for advice, he did call to ask you out properly. Your dynamic is very much so “girlfriend who knows a lot about fashion and boyfriend who pretends not to so he can hear her ramble.”

McLaren ෆ

Oscar Piastri

Food critic

Oh yes, the two of you are most certainly bonding over a shared love of food. Oscar Piastri doesn’t present himself as a foodie, but it’s more of a hidden pleasure of his. I won’t lie, when you first mentioned your occupation he thought it was somewhat funny. Reviewing food for a living seemed like something simple. He took it at the base level ideation and assumed that’s all it was. However, when you got really invested with talking about it, Oscar was quick to learn there was so much more. You discussed about different types of recipes, and methods when it came to baking. You ranted about cuts of meat and how each one had its own taste. With your influence, he quickly became quite the enthusiast himself. So, every time you guys went to a restaurant, you both ordered something entirely new to compare and contrast to past dishes. It was fun getting to try new things with you.

When you first met, it was in a restaurant. One of those crowded places where you ended up shoulder to shoulder with a random stranger because of how busy it was. For you, that random stranger ended up being famous racer Oscar Piastri. Although it was awkward at first, you sparked up soft chatter about the meal. He told you he was having the same thing he always did: pasta. You explained your meal, which was exotic to the both of you. When you expressed your disinterest in the taste he teasingly asked what made you so qualified to comment on such a thing. That’s what he found out. Intrigued by your charm, and your passion for all things food, Oscar couldn’t help but ask for your number.

Lando Norris

Teacher

Lando, in my firm opinion, is fantastic with children. He’s a little immature himself, which gives him that natural charm that makes getting along with children easy. He has no troubles throwing on that enthusiastic tone that lights their brains up. One morning in particular, Lando’s dear friend Max had a huge favor to ask of him: Take Penelope to school. Kelly was out for work, and he was running a high fever, which meant ‘Uncle Lala’ was on duty for the day. Admittedly she was a little late, and she showed up with a smoothie from Lando’s favorite coffee shop and a brand new pair of shoes. While he’s good with kids, he’s terrible at saying no. He walked the young girl into her classroom, and he damn near lost his mind. You were perfect— radiant, kind, soft-spoken but not timid. The dream girl that mirrored him perfectly. Even though you playfully scolded them both for being late, all he could focus on was how beautiful you were.

From that day forward, Lando made it painfully clear that something was up. He offered nearly everyday to take Penelope to school, which Max and Kelly would not complain about. She always returned with a huge grin on her face, recommending that her uncle take her again because he was so fun. However, when she started talking about the flirty comments he’d exchange with her teacher, they realized why he was suddenly taking an interest in the life of their child. Lando loves hearing about your day and listening to the various interactions between the kids in your class. He’s smitten with you and your ability to flawlessly interact with children— Unfortunately this means your relationship is destined to be filled with baby fever from you both. 24/7.

Aston Martin ෆ

Fernando Alonso

Wedding planner

As expected, you meet at the wedding of a mutual friend. You planned everything from the venue to the number of flowers in each arrangement, and both the bride and groom were eternally grateful for your help. It was always much easier to have someone else do a majority of the planning for you while you got to sit back and nod along to every suggestion made. In short, your efforts paid off immensely. When you sat down at your assigned table, you were surprised to see the Spanish man in question not far behind you. He seated himself across from you, reaching a hand out to shake yours politely. He was charming right off the bat, his flirty comments flowing with ease. You almost wondered if you were intentionally set up to sit beside this guy, because your fun-loving personalities matched up nicely. He matched your vibe and you matched his.

Now you were going 20 years strong, each anniversary celebrated more profound than the last. You were teased nonstop by friends and friends of friends about the lack of a ring on your finger. “Twenty years and he still hasn’t made it permanent?” was something you heard more often than you were willing to admit, but in all honesty, neither of you were interested in the concept of marriage. Your love was all you needed to seal the deal. You didn’t require a fancy ring to know that. But finally, after years and years of waiting, Fernando dropped down to one knee to give you the opportunity to finally plan your own damn wedding, and you happily accepted. You harbored no anger towards his decision to wait, because ultimately it made the experience a lot more special. You finally got to be on the other end of things and understand firsthand why people hire you to begin with: Planning your own wedding is not all it cracks up to be.

Lance Stroll

Author

Lance needs the peace and quiet that an author girlfriend brings to his life. He’s a well known introvert, which has yet to go unnoticed by anyone that he’s met. Lance prefers to keep to himself, and tends to distance from individuals who are overly loud. While opposites tend to attract, such an ideal is not the case for this fellow. He dreams of a romantically quiet life, and you’re there to fulfill that for him. You meet in the most cliche spot possible: a library. He’s not even that big on reading, but the spot was quiet and it gave him an excuse to brood in a corner and listen to music. You happened to be doing a book signing that day, which made the joint just a tad bit louder than he would have liked. However, when he saw you sitting at a table with a line extending outside the door, a cute smile on your face… Lance was utterly captivated. Your voice was low, your smiles were awkward, and your hands were trembling. Maybe it was weird, but that was everything he yearned for and more. When people started to clear and you started to pack up, he made a move.

Safe to say that said move was successful. The early stages of the relationship were less than ideal with both of you waiting on the other person to initiate every single thing, but finally you warmed up to each other and fell into a comfortable rhythm with your everyday lives. He cherished the days where he came home from loud engines and bustling crowds to the soft clicking of your keyboard, and the occasional flipping of pages. At the end of the day, no matter how stressful things get, Lance will always be grateful for the safety of your warm embrace as you hold him close to you at night. You’re his rock and his anchor, keeping him safe from the extroverts of the world. The media finds the two of you to be the ideal celebrity couple. Matching aesthetics, personalities, and beliefs. Your relationship is private, but it’s far from a secret!

Alpine ෆ

Pierre Gasly

Social media manager

I thought I was funny for this. You’re not a very good manager, because you’re always sitting there beside him, giggling at every post he scrolls by that’s related to him. With that being said, you always reach out and double tap the screen, liking whatever stupid thing had you guys giggling to begin with. So, to the people who wonder why Pierre is always liking every F1 related post, it’s actually your doing. You’re less focused on your actual job, and more on whatever content other people have managed to come up with. It’s really funny, in your defense. You guys first met because you were hired as the Alpine social media manager, but you always ended up laughing just a tad bit too much with Pierre over your ridiculous ideas that he kept building on to. Half the time you barely were able to execute said ideas, and ended up going with something entirely different.

Pierre loves that he found someone to match his energy and be okay with his teasing, along with tease him back. You’re fun— sometimes even more fun than him. Everyone in the paddock would agree. He loves filming videos and taking pictures with you for social media pages, and he loves even more than you get a little bit more freedom with his personal account and have directly spiced up all of his most recent content. Pierre fans have been wondering why most of his stuff has been a lot more enjoyable. Little do they know, you’re quietly working your magic behind the screen. Sorry Pierre, you get no credit. Although, having a hilarious muse does make it much easier.

Franco Colapinto

Florist

With this little flirt, knowing a lot about flowers actually proves to have some value. Franco’s always going out of his way to impress you: fact. He loves bringing home flowers, especially after triple headers, or just generally weekends that felt extra long without you right there beside him. It’s a new bouquet every time. While it is handpicked and arranged by him, it’s safe to say that Franco actually has no clue what he’s doing; his decisions are based off the initial beauty level of the flower. But, we can’t rule out that he intentionally picks randomly, because he does seem to love hearing you lecture him about flower language. He’s got roses being romantic burnt into his memory, but he can’t quite remember that yellow carnations are supposed to mean rejection. He does remember your face the day you brought them home, though, so he decides based on that. You sounded so sad as you explained the initial idea, and Franco was quick to make something up. So now, you guys decided they meant the love of Franco Colapinto— Yeah. He got his own damn flower.

You, as expected, had a meet cute as well. It came straight from a tacky hallmark movie. You had simply been arranging your outdoor stand one day, when a particularly fast biker flew by, clipping the edge of your stand and sending flowers flying through the air. You were devastated to see your hard work flying through the air and drifting away from you. Thankfully, one kind passerby stopped to help you pick up the lost work. He was handsome in his own, unique way. Somewhat familiar, you were sure. He laughed with you as he helped you set things back up, dropping a few flirtatious remarks that had your cheeks growing increasingly warm. It wasn’t until he dropped a joke related to racing that you picked up on it and breathed out a rather distressed, “Oh my God you’re Franco Colapinto!” He barked out a laugh and nodded to confirm your suspicions. He insisted you take his number. You know, just in case you need help dealing with a runaway biker again. It had nothing to do with the fact he thought you were the most beautiful person alive. No, no way.

Williams ෆ

Carlos Sainz

Baker

Get this man a beautiful baker girlfriend who can make him all the sweets in the world. No, but I did have a thought process for this. First date, he still doesn’t quite know that you’re a professional baker, so he’s going on and on about his incredibly pancake recipe when you mention that it’s your favorite breakfast food. You have a recipe of your own, of course, but you’re intrigued by the way he seems so cocky with said recipe, so you let him make you some when you visit him. And honestly, they’re really quite good! You’re considering replacing your own recipe. You repay his kind offer by baking him sweets— and I mean you really got busy in that kitchen, because you’re probably about to hand over 10 large containers full of sweets with flushed ears that tell him everything he needs to know. He’s a little embarrassed that he was ranting about his tasty pancakes to someone who makes them professionally, but he was happy to hear you sincerely liked them.

Now imagine Carlos’ embarrassment when he recounts how the two of you met to begin with. After a long night, he stopped by a local café to pick up a pick-me-up. You were there, but you weren’t behind the counter. You were standing off to the side, leaning over it as you chatted to the barista with a cup of coffee in hand. He approached the register, and you both paused your conversation so said barista could assist him. When Carlos pondered on a dessert from the display case, you very casually suggested that he take a croissant with that ‘trust me’ sort of vibe. He teases you— asks you what makes you a master of breakfast pastries, and you just shrug nonchalantly and tell him that maybe you have ‘insider’ information. He assumes you’re a regular by now, and accepts your suggestion. He gets the croissant. And your number. And a first date… And the embarrassment of finding out way too late into your relationship that you’re the damn baker for the café. That was your insider info.

Alex Albon

Veterinarian

The more obvious choice, yes. While I was afraid this might be too on the nose, I think it makes a lot of sense, really. He has a lot of pets. What does a guy with a lot of pets often do? He takes them to the vet. Alex already takes great care of his pets, so this visit was a little out of the ordinary. His cat had fallen ill, and he needed to get the proper medicine to care for her. But there was you, the newest hire at the clinic who seemed so good with his pet. You gave her treats to keep her distracted as you checked her out, ensuring the man that this was just a common sickness and would pass, but if he wanted he could slip some allergy medicine into her food next time. He was forever grateful. But then, suddenly his pets were falling injured or ill left and right. A man who rarely visited the vet was now becoming a regular, always coming up with some sort of concern. “Doesn’t her leg look weird?” “Nope, looks good to me.” You eventually caught on, and told him that at a vet clinic there was no rules against dating clientele. Now, there was rules against dating patients, but that was because your patients were animals.

He works well with your nonchalant charm. You’re easygoing and laidback, and that’s just what Alex needs. He appreciates having someone he can chill with because his life is often so chaotic that it’s hard for him to take time for himself. Therefore, he has you now. Plus it’s always nice to no longer have to visit the vet when you can now just stop by his house for a quick check up. It becomes even easier when you move in with him, because instead of being worried he can just rely on you to tell him when things are wrong and need to be taken more seriously. All in all, he found an absolute keeper, and the internet won’t stop encouraging him to put a ring on it to ensure nobody else does. Although, not sure anyone needs a veterinarian quite like Alex Albon does. So, I think he’s safe for now.

Visa Cash App Racing Bulls ෆ

Liam Lawson

Actress

I like to think you actually met when filming the F1 movie. You’re a background support character in the film, and Liam was just there to play himself, much like all the other drivers. You two managed to bump into each other, and it seemed like day to day conversations started to take place. You’d share a joke you heard while standing behind him at the coffee making station, or catch him up on the latest set gossip in passing. He was charmed by your wit, and you were charmed by the way he cluelessly fumbled over words around you. Imagine how surprised he was when you asked him out. He felt somewhat disappointed because he had been hoping to have that honor for himself, but he was glad that you reciprocated his feelings.

I think Liam with an actress girlfriend just makes sense anyway. He’s all for the drama you bring to the table, and loves watching every single film you star in, whether it’s a big or small role. He’ll go to every premiere, red carpet, and gala you’re invited to as your plus one. Not only does he love to show his support, but he also realized early on that he gets to meet a lot of his own idols this way. You have lots of connections, and he now has a stack of autographs from famous celebrities at home. It’s a win-win.

Isack Hadjar

Photographer

Your first time meeting Isack was actually a little chaotic. The team hired you to shoot some shots from the first practice on Friday. It was experimental, because it was their first time hiring you, and it was your first time working for a huge company, let alone shooting athletic shots. When it started raining, you hadn’t even noticed. You were so focused on capturing everything perfectly, and with the right settings, that eventually you were completely drenched without a care in the world. It was really down pouring. Subsequently, teams were pulled in from the nasty weather to dry off and warm up. You, however, were still perched in the stands out in the rain, laser focused on your camera. Isack, ever the gentleman, came out with an umbrella and held it over your head. You hadn’t even realized he was there until you felt his shadow cast over you. You looked up, and nearly dropped your camera. You were stuttering all like “Oh- It’s- Oh no, it’s you- Gah, I’m so sorry!” Which only confused him more. You explained you were meant to be taking shots of his team today, but all the ones you got were bad. You were better with portraits. He was stunned by you too. You were beautiful, even with your wet hair plastered to your face and your clothes soaking wet. So, with red cheeks himself, he invited you in to take some portraits, which would hopefully give you a chance at staying with the team. And you did! Which then gave him enough time to work up enough courage to make a move.

You’re a little scatterbrained, it’s true. Every-time you come to the paddock, you’re in a panic as you ramble about how you accidentally left your SD card at home in your laptop, and that your whole reason for coming was now ruined because you didn’t have a way to take photos. Isack reassured you that missing one race wouldn’t be the end of the world. Besides, he ended up finding your SD card in your purse when you asked him to grab your phone. You’re lucky to have found him, because he certainly helps keep you grounded. You’d probably have floated off into space without Isack there to hold you down and keep you steady.

Kick Sauber ෆ

Nico Hülkenberg

Sommelier

You were evidently flawless at your job. You knew everything there was to know about wine, and all of its pairings with food. It was an elegant and refined drink to be saved for fancy events, much like the one you met your beloved at. Your relationship has been in the making for about three years now, and despite its… Awkward start, the two of you have been developing nicely. There was an event for F1 drivers hosted at a vineyard, and you were hired to take care of the wine: a rather simple job. Famous people weren’t a surprise to you anymore, but as you were sharing with your audience the history behind the drink you picked out, you felt your breath leave your body in an untimely manner. That was when he walked in, stealing away your attention. Salt and pepper stubble, a lazy smile, and an appearance that screamed ‘just woke up from a nap in the sun’ in the most endearing way possible. You, a normally charming and easygoing woman, were caught off guard and ended up muttering something stupid like “this wine is… fermented” followed by a nervous laugh, which cued your audience to chuckle along with you.

He teased you later. Of course he did, because how could he not notice the way you’d freeze as you quietly eyed him. When you were setting up glasses, he approached from behind, and you immediately turned around at the sound of his voice, which consequently sent one of the glasses flying. Nico, a man trained in his reflexes, caught it with ease that made your heart flutter. Thank God you managed to snatch him up, because nobody had ever made you feel such a way. It didn’t matter if he didn’t win on the track, because everyday he came home to the most beautiful woman possible, who’d shower him with lots of well deserved love. Plus, you always knew what wine would suit his mood. Yeah. He made the correct choice.

Gabriel Bortoleto

Streamer

We know how brain-rotted Gabriel is. You can’t tell me he doesn’t have a favorite streamer too. It’s you. Before you guys started dating he was a fan. He found your unique commentary on games to be interesting and the way you played— yada yada. Truth be told, he just thought you were pretty and funny. He even suggested through donations (under a secret account name, mind you) that you play one of the F1 games. With the money you earned from the donation, you bought it and showed the whole world just how awful you were. Gabriel secretly messaged you on instagram, claiming he had just found you when you were playing F1 24, and would love to come properly teach you how to play on stream. You agreed, of course. And it was a success. After the cameras turned off, he shyly admitted that he had actually been a fan of yours for awhile, because he felt bad for deceiving you. You just thought it was cute, and offered him the opportunity to come back if he so wanted.

Now, Gabi is a frequent feature on your streams. Not necessarily just as your partner in multiplayer games, but he can be seen on your face cam. Maybe he’s sleeping in the background, or he just happens to pass by. Sometimes he’ll even come give you a kiss in front of thousands of viewers, acting like he forgot you were streaming when in reality it was done intentionally. Sneaky bastard. Your fans love him, but Gabriel also loves to remind them that you’re a happily taken girl. You don’t mind anyway. It’s nice to see your longterm fanboy staking his claim in a way he thinks is secretive. Trust that you know… You always know what he’s up to. There’s no hiding it. Don’t be surprised if he starts spamming your chat with italian brainrot. Imagine having to explain to newcomers that it’s a regular thing, too.

Haas ෆ

Oliver Bearman

Artist

This is a pair nobody expected, to be honest. The Haas team was directed by PR to show up to an art event. Apparently the establishment was sponsoring them for the next race, and it was the polite thing to do. Oliver didn’t really care— He wasn’t a fan of PR events and media. He was outgoing and charming, but he tended to keep his life private for the most part. But he was glad he went, because when he saw you on a shaky ladder hammering in a stubborn nail with frustration, he knew you were someone to keep him on his toes. You had on overalls covered in paint. Some was fresh, but most of it seemed deeply imbedded in the fabric, like you wore them just to get them dirty. Your arms, too, were covered in colors. It was quite the sight. When you saw him, you dropped your hammer. Right on your foot, and then it tumbled down the ladder to fall unceremoniously on the ground. You hissed as you descended the ladder, jittery with excitement. You greeted him with a very enthusiastic handshake, announcing how you didn’t think he’d show up. You kept rambling, and he kept listening. Eventually you asked him if he could sit still, and he said yes, to which you replied with, “I wanna sketch you, then. You have this beautiful angelic vibe and I need that.” So, if that’s not forward I’m not sure what is.

It’s true. You’re his joy, and he’s your muse. And, for what it’s worth, Ollie was right. You certainly do keep him on his toes because he never really knows what’s next with you. You’re vibrant and fun and you love nature— The stereotypical small town girl who falls madly in love with a city boy. You like to run through tall grass barefoot and paint in the middle of giant fields whatever your heart desires, and now you’re dating Oliver Bearman. But it’s a good thing, because you both have changed each other in the best way possible, and even though you’re so different, you work harmoniously in a healthy relationship. You’re both happier than you’ve ever been, truly.

Esteban Ocon

Model

This man is TALL. He needs a tall girlfriend to sit by his side, and that just so happens to be you. You met at a huge gala for F1, where various other celebrities were invited to bring more attention to the sport. You’ve always been a fan, so you were glad to have the opportunity to meet a lot of the people you had admired for so many years. One of those people was Esteban Ocon. He was hated by his own community, regarded as one of the least likable people around, but you saw through that. This was a sweet guy with a bad reputation over one incident that took place many years ago. He was a bit surprised when you intentionally sat down beside him and introduced yourself with a huge smile and a delicate handshake. You were beautiful. It was almost too good to be true. He couldn’t let go of an opportunity like this, so he clung to you the entire night and asked if you’d be willing to see him again. Of course you would.

He supports your career through and through. He admires your skill, and all the thought that goes into modeling. It’s truly impressive. In turn, you support his racing career. You frequently feature his races, and while you do try to avoid the cameras, it’s impossible to not be featured when reacting on occasion. You have a loving dynamic— almost the perfect couple, and everyone in the paddock knows it. You’re the type of people to solve every disagreement by calmly talking it out. You’re the type of people to live by the rule “never go to bed angry.” You both get bad reps. In his community’s mind, Esteban is cruel and vicious and impossible to like. In your community’s mind, you’re stuck up and bossy and rude. So, together you make a perfectly misunderstood pair that understands one another. Delightful, right?

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