#Camera with date and time stamp

[kaleidoscopeluhvv]

September 2022

[nemo-writes]

𝗮𝗯𝘀𝗼𝗹𝘂𝘁𝗲𝗹𝘆 𝘀𝗺𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗻 I chapter three

(dr. jack abbot x nurse!reader)

⤿ chapter summary: a terrifyingly familiar presence breaches your last safe space, and now a simple and heartfelt gesture becomes a violation. in the aftermath, fear finally makes you reach out for help.

⤿ warning(s): stalking, panic attacks & unhealthy coping mechanisms.

⟡ story masterlist ; previous I next

✦ word count: 2.7k

The day begins the same way the last three have: 05:30, kettle on, one level tablespoon of Assam spooned into the infuser. While the water climbs toward a boil you unlock your phone, already braced for what waits. A fresh number—there is always a fresh number—has delivered its dawn bulletin:

Left at 05:01 yesterday.

Early bird. Porch light flickered twice—loose bulb?

Navy coat looks sharp against the fog, pretty girl. 

They never mention the hospital, never a word about ORs or co-worker names. The watcher keeps to the edges of your private life, and somehow that makes the trespass worse. You capture a screenshot, block the number, and delete the thread. The image joins dozens of others in the hidden laptop folder named Archive—date‑stamped, time‑stamped, waiting for the moment you finally believe the police will do more than shrug.

Four‑minutes steep exactly. Mug warmed. First swallow. Routine: a ladder you climb every morning. Eggs scrambled ninety seconds, plate rinsed, shower seven minutes. Before dressing, you check the tiny motion‑sensor camera you mounted inside the apartment entryway two nights ago; its LED blinks a steady red reassurance. The matching camera on the fire‑escape window does the same. No motion alerts overnight. Still, you test the deadbolt twice and angle the hall chair beneath the knob until you return.

The drive is identical to yesterday’s and the day before—same streets, same mirror checks at every light. No car follows twice, but you look anyway. At 06:50 you badge through the employee entrance. Stepping into hospital feels like sliding into armor: fluorescent lights, antiseptic bite, the hum of vents. The messages have never followed you here.

You adjust your usual gray scrubs and square your clipboard. Pre‑op checklist in your left hand, suture cart in your right, you call out “sponge count zero” with the same crisp authority as always. But small hesitations creep in: rereading the cefazolin vial, tapping the clock twice to verify time‑outs. 

Margot’s eyes track each pause. She eventually corners you by the blanket warmer.

“Nightmares?” she asks, voice low.

“Just the usual insomnia,” you answer, pinching your lower lip. A nervous habit. Your smile feels brittle, but it holds.

Fin notices too; his jokes grow louder, as though volume can fill the quiet shadow clinging to you. Jules slips extra Hershey Kisses into your scrub pocket. Even Dr. Garcia joins in by firing off sarcasm like covering fire whenever an intern looks as if they might ask why your phone stays face‑down on the desk, silent yet weighty.

Slowly but surely, the afternoon bleeds into evening. 

You finish vitals, sign the narcotics log, and at 19:04 bypass the stairwell that leads to the roof—no silhouettes against twilight tonight. Instead you head straight for the lot, head down, keys ready.

The cameras in your apartment greet you with their steady red eyes when you arrive. Door locked, sweep performed—closet, shower, under bed—all clear. Only then do you change into a soft purple T‑shirt and loose pants. You have long since stopped parading around in your underwear. 

The phone buzzes the moment the fabric falls over your head. New number:

Purple again. My favorite.

You freeze. Curtains closed, lights low—and still they see. Screenshot. Block. Delete. You drag the dining chair beneath the doorknob and place the kitchen scissors back on the nightstand, steel glinting like a talisman. Then, a mug of valerian tea, strong enough to taste like soil, goes down in three determined gulps.

Lying in bed, you count the protections: two cameras, one chair brace, scissors within reach, every screenshot archived. Routine is armor. Repetition is a prayer. You breathe in for four, out for eight, the same cadence you teach anxious PACU patients, and tell yourself that as long as the messages stay outside the hospital walls, the armor will hold.

Sleep comes in splinters, broken by phantom creaks and imagined footsteps. At 02:47 you wake up, heart sprinting, and check the camera feed: empty hallway, silent fire escape. Dawn is only a few hours away. Soon the kettle will hiss, the tea will steep for exactly four minutes, and another text will arrive—about a porch light or the time you start your car—but never about scalpels, never about sponge counts.

Despite the hour, you’re halfway through wiping down the already‑clean kitchen counter—busywork to quiet the apartment’s hush—when your phone vibrates. For once the screen doesn’t show an unknown number.

It’s Jack.

Haven’t seen you on the roof in a bit. Everything okay?

The text lands like a gentle hand on your chest. You swallow against the sudden tightness in your throat, thumb hovering. Finally you type back:

I’m alright—just busy. See you tomorrow?

Three dots pulse, then: Works for me. Sunrise tea?

He doesn’t mention anything about the hour or how you should be asleep and not messaging back. You’re grateful. 

Sunrise tea, you confirm, and set the phone facedown.

Pacing the kitchen, you notice how full the fridge is: a dozen nearly‑dated eggs, chicken thighs you’d planned to roast, wilting cilantro, limes, onions, and two unopened cans of black beans. You haven’t cooked a proper meal since the messages started; take‑out cartons and tea have been enough to survive. Now the sight of real food sparks something steadier than dread—a need to do, to give.

An apology, you decide, should be edible.

You wash your hands, set the chicken on the board, and fall into the rhythm your muscles remember: trim fat, score skin, rub with salt, cumin, smoked paprika. Onions sizzle in the cast‑iron, releasing a sweetness that chases the apartment’s stale anxiety. Beans simmer with serrano and garlic; rice toasts before absorbing broth. Cilantro stems thunk under the knife; lime zest perfumes the steam fogging the window. 

When everything’s done you portion a generous serving into a sturdy glass container, your favourite one: rice pilaf on one side, glossy black beans on the other, two pieces of golden‑skinned chicken nestled on top. Into a tiny jar goes some honey‑lime dressing. You label the lid in block letters—Jack—and slide the meal into one of your spare tote bags. 

The apartment smells of cumin and toasted garlic, of normal life. The cameras still blink red, the chair still braces the door, the scissors still gleam, but cooking has threaded warmth through every corner. You finish the last dish, the one’s that’s for you, dry your hands, and stand for a moment in the quiet kitchen, breathing in the proof that you can still create comfort instead of just barricades.

Tomorrow at dawn you’ll climb to the roof, hand Jack the container, and share five minutes of sky. Routine will tighten around you again, one careful knot at a time—but tonight you fall back asleep with the scent of lime and cilantro on your pillow, and relief, thin but real, settles in your chest like steam escaping a cooling pot.

. . .

You arrive at the hospital just past sunrise, thermos in one hand, tote slung over your shoulder, and—for once—a real, living sense of calm beneath your ribs. Not the fragile kind you usually glue together with caffeine and a tight jaw, but something gentler, something earned. You even caught a pocket of golden morning light in the parking lot, the kind that made the hospital look almost soft at the edges. 

Dr. Miller catches sight of you just as you pass the nurse’s station. He’s leaning against the counter, coffee in one hand, chatting with a pair of interns, but pauses when he sees you. His eyebrows lift, and he gives a slow, amused smile. “Well, you look dangerously close to content. Should I be worried?”

You huff a laugh, smoothing your coat as you badge in. “Don’t start rumors, Dr. Miller.”

He points at the canvas tote on your shoulder. “Big plans?”

You nod once. “End of shift.”

He doesn’t ask more, just grins, and you take that grin with you like a good omen. The rest of the day moves at a steady clip: vitals to log, meds to verify, a code yellow that resolves without anyone crying. You let yourself coast on the rhythm of it, not in that desperate, overcompensating way you usually do, but in a way that feels like a return to something—like an exhale. 

You slip into the lounge at 18:45, already imagining the click of the container’s lid, the familiar smell of the garlic and cumin, the soft weight of it in your hands as you climb the stairwell to the roof. You open as the lights inside flickers to life, cold and blue, attention on the glass container exactly where you left it, lid on, untouched. 

Except—no. Something’s wrong.

The lid is snapped shut, perfectly aligned. The container looks full. But it isn’t. You can feel it before you even lift it—something in the tilt, the balance. Your stomach lurches as you peel the lid off  and confirm what you already know. The food is gone. Not spilled. Not disturbed. Not even a forkful left to scrape from the edges. Just... empty. Clean. Wiped down.

A rare mix of anger, rare but hot, pulses against your ribcage, but before you can storm out and demand answers, you feel the paper crumpled under the container. Your breath stops. It’s your note—the one you’d carefully taped to the top that morning: NOT FOR GENERAL CONSUMPTION. HANDS OFF GREMLINS, it reads in your blocky caps. But now that line has been crossed out in thick, decisive strokes. And underneath it, slanted and dark and horrifyingly familiar: 

That was great, thanks pretty girl.

The world tilts. Your lungs forget how to work. You’ve seen that name before—only in texts, never spoken, never written. Anonymous. Cryptic. Repetitive. A whisper against your spine on nights when the lights were off and your phone lit up with unknown numbers. But this—this isn’t a text. This is here. This is your space, your name, your cooking, your boundary, and someone has walked right through it with ink-stained hands and a stomach full of what you made with care.

A hot flush crawls up your neck, floods your ears. You stagger back a step and catch yourself on the counter. The container slips from your hand and hits the lounge table with a muted thud. The silence in the room turns sharp. 

Then, you shove the fridge shut. The door clangs and rattles in its frame. The room feels like it’s shrinking, like the air has gone sour, too full of other people’s breath. You snatch the note and crush it in your hand. Your teeth clench so hard your jaw pops. You don’t remember turning, but you’re already out the door, slamming into the corridor.

Fin is halfway down the hall with a tablet in hand. He startles and drops it when you barrel past. “Boss? Are you okay—?”

You don’t hear him. You don’t answer. The world has narrowed to one screaming thought: Find Gloria. Now. You need the Chief Medical Officer, need her badge, her keys, her authority. She can pull the security feeds. She can call the police. She can make this stop.

You’re moving before you think to move, feet pounding the tile, vision blurring at the edges. You don’t realize you’re shaking until your elbow clips the corner of the nurse’s station and jolts you. Jules tries to intercept you, her mouth forming your name in alarm, but you dodge past. Margot reaches out, grabs your arm, and for a second your momentum dies.

“What happened?” she demands, voice low, sharp, anchoring.

You look at her. You try to speak. Nothing. Just breathless silence. Then, rasping through a throat too tight to breathe, you say, “Need Gloria.”

She gets it instantly. Her eyes go cold. She lets you go. Already calling instructions behind you as you sprint toward the elevators.

Your fingers hurt. You look down and realize the note is still balled in your fist, crushed so tightly your nails have dug half-moons into your skin. The static in your head has turned into a roar. You feel cracked open, like your worst fear has been confirmed and now all your secrets are leaking out of you for the world to see. All this time, you thought if you could just hold on—just stay composed, stay ahead, stay vigilant—you could keep this from touching the parts of your life that mattered. But now it has. Now it’s here. The hospital was supposed to be your safe place, your fortress. But someone breached it.

The elevator doors open. Thankfully, nothing but an empty gurney is inside. You step in without hesitation, eyes fixed forward, spine locked. You don't even blink when the doors slide shut.

You get out the seconds the doors open and round the corner toward Administration so fast the world blurs, shoulders locked, chest heaving, pulse hammering in your ears so loud it drowns out thought. You barely register the sound of a door opening until a figure steps out from the consult room ahead—short but solid, dreadlocks brushing her shoulders, clipboard hugged tight to her chest.

You collide before either of you can brake.

Papers scatter like startled birds. A pen skitters across the tile and bounces under the nearest corner.

“Whoa—hey!” Kiara grabs you, steady hands catching your elbows before you fall. 

“Slow down, honey,” she says, trying for lightness. “What—”

Then she sees your face.

Whatever was holding you together unravels in a blink. Your eyes fill, your mouth opens, but nothing coherent makes it past your lips. The crushed note slips from your hand, landing between you. The marker-scrawled name glares up from the paper like a fresh wound.

Kiara’s clipboard hits the floor beside it.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she breathes.

Her arms come around you before you can bolt or speak or even breathe. And the second she does, the sob rips out of you—gut-deep, involuntary, raw. You bury your face against her soft sweater and shake, fists twisted in the soft cotton, the fabric quickly going damp with tears. Your legs threaten to give. Kiara cradles the back of your head like she would a grief-stricken mother in a quiet room, voice low and steady in your ear.

“I’ve got you. You’re okay. Breathe with me. In, two, three…that’s it. Out, two, three.”

You try. You try to follow her rhythm even as your chest jerks, lungs refusing to cooperate, every breath full of glass. The hallway seems to narrow around you, fluorescent lights too sharp, voices too distant, the floor too unsteady beneath your feet. 

You gasp, trying to speak—Gloria, fridge, note—but your tongue won’t work. The words hit the back of your throat and collapse.

Kiara doesn’t push. She doesn’t ask. Not yet. 

She bends, scoops the note up from the floor, her arm never leaving your shoulders. Her eyes flick over the overwritten scrawl. Her expression goes from gentle to granite.

“Okay,” she says, voice gone iron. “We’re taking this to Gloria. Right now.”

It’s almost scary how easily she connects the dots without a single ounce of context. For now, you can only nod, your body still trembling, your mind clawing for control that just isn’t there anymore. But you’re not alone. Kiara keeps an arm firmly around you as she pulls her phone from her pocket, dials with one hand, presses it to her ear.

“Gloria? Yes, it’s Kiara. I have an urgent security issue. Clear your office.”

A pause. Then a quiet “Thanks.” She ends the call, squeezes your arm, and begins steering you gently toward the elevators.

“She’s waiting. Margot’s on her way too,” Kiara tells you as she guides you through the hallway. 

You nod again, unable to speak, but this time it’s not empty. The words aren’t caught in panic—they’re being held for you, steadied. And for the first time since the messages started, since the stalking began, since the fear turned chronic and tight and unseen—something inside you loosens.

Not gone. But held.

Held by hands stronger than your own.

divider credit

[iwaizumis-bitch]

𝔦 𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢 𝔴𝔥𝔢𝔫 𝔴𝔢 𝔤𝔢𝔱 𝔣𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔨𝔶 𝔬𝔫 𝔠𝔞𝔪𝔢𝔯𝔞~

𝔰𝔶𝔭𝔫𝔬𝔰𝔦𝔰: haikyuu men and reader (you!!!) getting freaky on camera

𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔫𝔱 𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: f! reader, degrading names, creampies, photography during sex, tummy bulging.

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱: 1182

KIYOOMI SAKUSA

it was a well known fact amongst all of kiyoomi's closest friends that a polaroid photo of you sat in the front card slot sakusa's wallet. it was a photo of you with a nervous smile and a large bouquet of tulips, taken the night of one of you and kiyoomi's first dates. you smiled at the photo, remembering the memory fondly.

just as you were about to fold the wallet shut, the border frame of another polaroid sticking out the top caught your eye. you'd flipped through kiyoomi's wallet countless times, whether it be grabbing some change to tip the doordash driver or to grab his coffee card to stamp, but never once had you noticed another polaroid.

you let out a small huff of confusion, pulling out the photo. your face immediately warms up as you're greeted with the sight of your own face, only this time your tongue was out and painted with streaks of white. your eyes were squeezed shut from the flash and a slender hand was wrapped around your bitten neck. you remembered sakusa told you that night, 'you look like a bona fide cumslut', and there was no doubt about it.

you felt an ache between your legs as you remembered all the things kiyoomi had done to you that night. all the filthy praise and condescending names he called had you take a sharp breath in. and like a predator drawn to its prey, you felt a looming presence behind you and a hand coming up to slide the polaroid next to the on display polaroid of you.

'everyone knows you as such a sweet girl', he coos into your ear, stroking his thumb over the bouquet of flowers. your heart skipped a beat as you felt his erection grind up against your ass, his nose nuzzling against your hair.

'but only i know the real you'.

HAJIME IWAIZUMI

'shit', iwaizumi groaned as his hips stuttered, slamming into your ass one more time as he filled your cunt with his cum. his hips rolled against yours, teeth gritted as he made sure to release every drop inside of you. his biceps trembled, finally letting himself plop down on top of you, kissing against the side of your neck. as blissful as he felt like this, he was a gentleman before anything and quickly began on aftercare.

he slowly pulled out, trudging to the en suite to fetch a washcloth. after running it under the tap, he gently moved your hair from your neck, placing the cool cloth where he could see you were sweatiest. he let out a little laugh at your hum of relief, watching the side of your face disappear into the fold of your elbow.

he moved down, gently spreading your legs apart watching as his cum started to trickle out and down your thigh. his cock immediately perked up again, rubbing his thumb over the skin of your inner thigh. it was such a pretty sight, he wanted to be able to see you like this whenever he wanted. his eyes snapped to his phone, nestled among the bedsheets, and a perverted idea came to his head.

'y/n?', he asked gently, hand resting on your lower back. it wasn't uncommon for you to fall asleep after being bred, especially after a long day of work. at your lack of reply he grabbed his phone, quickly swiping to open his camera. he tapped to make sure the camera was focused, he softly spread open your pussylips, taking a photo of your thoroughly spent pussy, and cum covered thighs.

'whatcha doin?', you mumble, tilting your head back to the side, having been woken from your light slumber at the sound of a shutter clicking. a small smirk was playing on your lips as you saw hajime's shocked face, clearly not expecting you to catch him in such an act.

'sorry', he mumbled, cheeks flaming. 'i'll delete it, you just looked so hot i-', he fumbled around his words, licking his lips.

'mmm, show me', you hum, looking at him expectantly. he pauses for a moment, before moving to lay down on his side beside you, hesitantly bringing up the couple of photos he had taken. he watched as you start to nibble on your lip, zooming into the photo.

'that's hot, keep it', you say, blatant and unashamed, smiling sultrily up at him. 'but please just clean me up so i can go to sleep', and who was he to deny you of anything he asked, he thought, nodding quickly as he grabbed the washcloth, but not before saving the photo to his favourites folder. he kisses atop your head, mumbling against your skin.

'how about you take some of me next time?

WAKATOSHI USHIJIMA

you had photography to thank for everything in your life, after all, it was how you had first met your husband. as a photography major at your local university, you were one of the few students selected to photograph the Schweiden Adlers season opening match. you were too entranced trying to focus your lens to notice the volleyball flying towards you, only realising the dire situation you were in when one of the players you were supposed to be photographing ran out in front of you, batting the ball away.

well now, wakatoshi was the one too entranced on trying to focus the lens. you knew not to boss him around, but you really wished he'd hurry up and twist the focus ring. you were both laying naked on your bed, you lying on your back with him between your legs, fiddling with the camera. you can't help but let out an impatient whine, reaching out and grabbing his cock.

his eyes snap to yours, jaw locked as he set the camera down. he grabs your chin, rubbing his thumb against your lip. 'where, oh where did my good little girl go?', he teases. his gaze doesn't break as he watches you squirm in fear, albeit he's not stopping you from jerking his cock.

you grab the head of his cock, shuffling forward to press it against the entrance of your pussy. 'i'm here', you mumble around his finger, ashamed of your impudence. before you can even think to start to beg for him to fuck you already, wakatoshi sheathes his entire cock into you in one quick motion.

immediately, your eyes rolled to the back of your head then squeezed shut as a needy moan sounded from your quivering lips. he held your hips in place to stop you from squirming around, and just relished in the feeling of your pussy wrapped so snug around his pulsing cock.

he took his time picking up the digital camera, his other hand resting over the obvious bulge poking out of your lower stomach. 'breathe baby', he reminds you, watching you flounder around in your aroused state. he snaps a quick photo of your stomach, with his hand resting on your him. he scoffs when he hears you whining again, feeling your pussy twitch around him. he chuckles at your desperation, leaning down to whisper into your ear

'how do i video on this thing, i wanna make you my personal pornstar?'

thank you for reading!! likes, reblogs, follows, and general feedback are all appreciated♥️

[daisyblog]

Suspect Challenge

Our Story Masterlist Summary: YN and Louis do the TikTok ‘Suspect Challenge’.

YN begins the video by recording Louis jogging lightly down the enclosed garden on their grandparents house.

“Suspect claims to be 5ft 9 but is really 5ft 7!”.

YN bursts into laughter behind the camera as Louis gives her an unimpressed look, as he pretends to be hurt by the teasing.

“You’re fookin’ rude!”. Louis’ run comes to a halt as he points towards his sister, waiting for her to stop laughing.

Louis now ran alongside YN as she ran down the path, looking ahead waiting for her brother to speak.

“Suspect only dates her brothers friends!”.

YN gave Louis a frown as she turned to face him, ready to correct him. “Fook off Lou…it was one friend and it’s been like thirteen years!”.

“Still me best mate though!”. Louis shrugged his shoulders as he bumped into his sister playfully.

“Suspect likes to act tough, but really he’s a big softie!”.

“Hey…that’s suppose to be a secret!”. Louis childishly stamped his foot as he and YN shared a laugh over his sarcasm.

“Oops!”.

“Suspect claims to like other singers but really only listens to One Direction!”.

YN holds her hands up in surrender. “Oh waw! What a fookin’ crime”.

“Such a fan girl!”.

“Suspect forgets the words to his own songs!”.

“Ohh give me a fookin’ break will you? How many songs do I have? Can’t remember every single one of them”. Louis chuckled loudly at his sister’s attempt of calling him out on the many times he’s forgotten the words when singing.

YN couldn’t stop herself from adding to the comment. “But your fans can remember every word to every song and album!”.

“Fook off smart ass!”.

“Suspect is obsessed with her husband!”.

“Hell fookin’ yeah I am…have you seen him…absolutely-”. YN’s face lit up with happiness as she thought about Harry.

Louis interrupted knowing YN wouldn’t stop once she started. “Yeah yeah we get it!”.

“Suspect only knows how to cook one meal!”.

“You’re jealous of me amazing cooking skills”. Louis lovingly pointed at YN. “Have you seen me chopping up a cucumber…absolute chef!”.

YN rolled her eyes at his words. “Master chef eat your heart out!”.

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[laylasverse]

0.8K CELEBRATION ᰋ INFLUENCER REALITY IDEAS concepts, specifics, and tropes you could use for your very own influencer reality.

ও. a super big and sparkly thank you to @withluvvenus for helping me with this post!! my first collab... kinda nervous 😛

TRUE!INFLUENCER the true definition of an influencer. could be new york city, los angeles, miami, london or even paris, but you know every inch of that place. you wake up to new pr pages full of almost too many free products.

MEET CUTE IDEAS i. the classic meeting at an influencer party. you were supposed to be networking, trying to navigate the new and familiar faces only to be starstruck by seeing your celebrity crush walk through the door. and even worse? they know exactly who you are. ii. your reputation is perfect online, or maybe it's not. your s/o's image is the complete opposite of yours. both of your pr teams contact the other's to sort out a deal. there isn't much of a conversation between the two influencers who will be fake dating for who knows how long the teams chose, just soft launches that lead to hands being held in obvious photos and paparazzi images.

ANIMAL!INFLUENCER why only work at an animal rescue when you could share all the random facts you have stored up too? helping the adorable ( & non ) beings while spreading the message of environmental preservation is truly a win-win.

MEET CUTE IDEAS i. your animal rescue always needs volunteers! you need as many hands as you can get to take care of all the precious inhabitants. so when the rescue got a new group of them you didn't think much of it it. until you were asked to show the most beautiful person you've ever seen how to trick the resident wolfdog into taking his worm medicine...

BEAUTY!INFLUENCER you found the perfect mascara. the perfect cleanser. the perfect blush. anyone who is anyone knows your name. brands are begging for your stamp of approval on their products. be careful with your power... or don't, we still love you!

MEET CUTE IDEAS i. your page is everything beauty related? your s/o? they're a fan but a big makeup artist for famous people. famous, underlined, bolded. but they know of you. they are always using your tips and tricks, sometimes even duetting your tiktoks and commenting on the base of the certain foundation used paired with the concealer or something else. they're trying to get your attention. will you give it to them? ii. you're working with yet another brand. you thought the photoshoot would be a little boring with the constant posing and retaking the same picture a hundred times. but hey, at least the person behind the camera is cute. wait. did they just ask for your personal number instead of your managers? what could they want that for?

FASHION!INFLUENCER at first we all followed for your amazing use of floral pattern ( we still have no clue how you made it look so good ), but we stayed to see you strutting the runways. we definitely still try to gatekeep you, we were here first!

MEET CUTE IDEAS i. an up and coming fashion designer wants you to model for them! you scroll through their catalog and don't know if the designs are really your thing. you told your manager to decline the offer. a few months later the designer blows up on their own. a mixture of jealousy and resentment makes you check them out. since when were they so hot?

FOOD CRITIC!INFLUENCER does getting to taste the many different flavors and dishes from all around the globe sound good to you? what if you could get them for free too? just become your city's biggest food blogger!

MEET CUTE IDEAS i. you're the food critic. your s/o is the owner of a famous restaurant. you're assigned to their restaurant, there's some nerves because they're famous . . . and the fact that you may have developed a crush on them.

SPORTS CONNOISSEUR!INFLUENCER the one who follows their favorite sport religiously. the go-to person for all the details and history on the topic. when someone thinks a certain team their first thought isn't the mascot, it's you.

MEET CUTE IDEAS i. you're a sports influencer, they're a big name in a sport you fancy. first time you two meet is at one of their games, you're invited out where the players are usually to interview the players. your s/o is interviewed by you. but this isn't the first time you two have met, has it? ii. in the off season of your s/o's sport they go to a different sports game. somehow you're seated next to each other as complete strangers. but the kiss cam thinks otherwise.

TRAVEL!INFLUENCER take that trip to milan. show us every little corner you found. all the top museums and fancy restaurants. we want your outfits of the day. we want to live vicariously through you. maybe take us to japan next!

MEET CUTE IDEAS i. on the plane to your next big trip and you believe you've been blessed with an empty seat next to you. yet at the very last second you hear the excuse mes and shuffling of feet. you look up to see them. suddenly you don't mind sitting next to a stranger if that stranger is them.

[cheriladycl01]

Winning Gold in Life - Lando Norris x BritishOlympicFigureSkating! Reader

Plot: You and Lando will try to coordinate his helmet designs to your figure skating outfit, so that you guys can match and win together.

"You looked amazing out there baby!" Lando grins picking you up and spinning you around as you got to the edge of the ice rink by the gate to leave.

You orange dress that had the Mclaren Logo all up the sheer see-through sleeves and on the back as if it were a tramp-stamp flowed around you hips as he spun you.

"Ah that was so nerve-racking having you watching me!" you exclaim, leaning your head into the crook of his neck. You both sat on the stands waiting for the results.

"Y/N, that was an fantastic performance. Think we have a chance for Gold!" your coach says coming over to you handing you your coat and gloves like she normally did after you'd been out on the ice.

"Thank you Maddie, I just hope it was enough!" you nod nervously. Lando rubs his hand up and down your legs in a comforting manor before pulling you into his hold.

"You did do well, no matter where you come... I'm going to be proud of you for just going out there today!" he whispers in your ear and tears start to build up in your eyeline. Some of you eyeliner and mascara had already started to melt off your face but Lando couldn't stand to see himself make it worse.

"Ohhhh, don't cry baby!" he laughs seeing your little pouty expression that he found adorable. You look at him is his thumbs wipe under your eyes trying to fix the black and brown makeup that had started to streak and make you loosely resemble a Panda.

As you waited for the results to come in, you anxiously bite your lips until you hear you name said by the Chinese commentator before the English one making you look at Lando and your trainer.

"Was that my name or am i tripping?" you ask looking between them and Lando has a huge grin on his face.

"That was your name baby, GOLD!" he exclaims and you crouch down into a sort of squat in shock. Tears streaming down your face.

"Y/N come on! Onto the ice!" you trainer grins and you take Lando's hand dragging him so he's as close to the barriers between the ice and the stadium seats as possible.

You see the camera on you and the other two medalists who you immediately pull into hugs, you'd gotten close to them since you guys landed here in Beijing.

You stake out to where the podium is and stand on the top place, getting help from someone to get up onto it. You smile at your flag, proud of what you've done for team GB.

The medal gets placed around you neck after the others and you get handed your flowers as you all stand listening to the British National Anthem, your hand on your heart and medal while you look up trying to keep the tears at bay.

You skate back and see Lando is filming your arrival making you make a silly face at the camera before showing your cold medal to him and the camera with a big cheesy grin on you face.

"Darling I'm so proud of you!" he smiles pulling you in for a hug and kisses your forehead as he takes a second to observe you.

"I love you so much, having you here for support was everything!" you admit, knowing you probably wouldn't have done as well if he wasn't here cheering you on.

"Well, now that you've got your first gold. I think it's time that I got my first win..." he smiles.

"Yeah? Will that be in Bahrain with your new matching lid" you grin at him and he nods.

"Need my good luck charm with me, if I'm going to win!"

And that was how you found yourself once again in the fuel scented paddock that you'd become accustomed too over the few years you'd been dating Lando for.

"Things have been looking promising babe! You guy's sandbagged hard!" you grin, knowing there was a lot more oophm to the car than what they'd let on in February's pre-season testing.

"Zac's orders. We'll be up there with Red Bull and Mercedes this year!" he grins and FP1 and FP2 proved that. He had a mega performance having the quickest time in the first and going third fastest in the second.

Sunday came around far to quickly for your liking and you were sat in the paddock in shorts and Lando's Mclaren Shirt for the warm weather Bahrain had brought. You even had to go to the merch stand to by yourself a McLaren hat because the darkness to you hair had started to burn the top of you head.

It was an embarrassing interaction, you asked for a Lando Norris McLaren hat but it was so busy and so loud they'd mistaken it for a Lewis Hamilton Mercedes hat so you were strolling through the paddock with that on your head.

"Ahhh, well if it isn't my biggest fan Y/N Y/L/N!" Lewis says catching you as he strides past on his scooter stopping to talk to you.

"They made a mistake at the merch shop. I didnt have the heart to correct them..." you chuckle and he laughs as well, he pulls out a pen starting to sign it while it was on your head.

"For my biggest fan" he laughs and you cant help but laugh as well. Only seconds later do the media catch on to the two athletes conversing and pull them up on it.

"Hey guys, how are we doing today!" one of the interviewers asks making you freeze a little like a deer in headlights.

"I'm doing great, just you know spending time with a fan!" Lewis jokes making the reporters laughs and turn to you.

"Yep, big fan of his work. Ppppft whose that Lando Norris guy in pole position. I don't know him..." you joke back knowing Lewis and Lando had the front row locked out.

"Y/N, all jokes aside it's great to see you back in the paddock now after all the training ... which clearly paid off congratulations" she smiles and you blush a little nod liking to brag or show off.

"Thank you, my team and I worked really hard. I obviously had the power of Mclaren and Lando on my side and I'm happy to have achieved Gold after my not so good attempt in 2018!" you cringe remembering when you were so much younger and naive that you hadn't performed as well, just missing out on a bronze medal.

"Well all the best to you and Lando!" she grins before keeping Lewis and letting you dash off back to McLaren.

2 hours later and you were anxuously biting your nails watching Lando catch up to the lead of the race after a slow pitstop and reclaim his P1.

It wasn't until the last lap, where DRS was enabled that he could overtake Charles and take back his P1 having an advantage on the final turn and straight for him to cross the finish line in P1.

His first F1 win.

You didn't have the most graceful reaction for a WAG, that was for sure but seeing Lando win after working so hard towards his goal, you couldn't contain your emotions.

You ran up to him, and you jumped on him not caring about the wetness of his suit from sweat and you were wrapping your arms around his neck and legs around his waist as his gloved hands came down to support you holding just under your bum.

"You are amazing!" you cry pulling up his visor so you can see his own eyes that are full of tears.

You later watched on as he celebrated his podium with Charles and Lewis, and you saw the elated and happy expression on your face that you would do anything to keep on their permanently as your favourite thing about him was his smile.

That was your man... and he was forever your man.

y/user

Liked by landonorris, maxfewtrell and pietra.pilao

y/user: Life recently! Winning Gold in all aspects of life ... McLaren Papaya inspired drip, and Lando getting a new lid for 2023 (I’m not allowed to show you guys till race weekend) <3

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landonorris: my gorgeous baby! I love you 🥰❤️

-> y/user: I love you more! Thank you for all your support recently 🫶🏼❤️

mclaren: when the drip is dripping 😦🤭🧡

-> y/user: always 🧡

fan1: it’s so cute how Lando and Y/N always match🥺

fan2: Y/N show us the lid we won’t snitch!

maxfewtrell: thank you for making it to the merch drop. We miss seeing you!

-> y/user: missing you too Max 🫶🏼

pietra.pilao: beautiful, gorgeous girl

-> y/user: no you 👆🏼☺️

-> pietra.pilao: let’s date ❤️

-> y/user: YES! Spa days for life 🫣🫶🏼

fan3: P and Y/N’s friendship is so funny 🥺🧡

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Back to training, without my mans 😭🫶🏼

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[spiderb00]

FAM OUT HEADCANONS

The beginning

Dream Academy brought a lot of good things to Sophia: success, the Kats, the Eyekons and of course, you.   

you and Sophia met accidentally, your father was one of the camera operators, and Sophia always saw you backstage. She had thought you were beautiful, but she didn't have the courage, or the time, to stop and start a conversation with you. 

Weeks later, you were hired by the team on your father's recommendation (nepotism, Yunjin’s voice), they hired you for all kinds of work. So it was official, you had your first job as a handyman. You were called especially to fix things that the girls had damaged, and when Sophia found out about it, this girl went crazy.   

Sophia was very focused, she had good reviews, so she thought "Why not give me the luxury and have time with the kitten who works behind the scenes?" 

The sink in the room where Sophia was, magically appeared broken the next day, coincidence, right? The girl was scared to death of being caught, but, oh man, how it was worth it. 

When you came to fix it, Sophia made sure to open the door, show you where the faulty sink was, and keep you company throughout the repair. You talked about everything, and quickly grew closer. 

Sophia could tell you were her safe haven, the breath of air she needed every day, talking to you was magical, and Sophia loved every moment of it.   

Your first date was not called a "first date," at least not for others. You and Sophia knew it was a date, but you preferred to keep it a secret, so as not to threaten your jobs 

So imagine the relief you felt, sitting in the audience, hearing the name of Sophia, your girlfriend, being announced as the member of Hybe's new group, Katseye.

The reaction of the Kats

You two were not as discreet as you thought. The Kats always noticed how Sophia went out to mysterious places, with "friends" that none of the girls had the chance to meet.   

And it wasn't so discreet when Lara saw your face covered in lipstick marks stamped on the wallpaper of Sophia's cell phone.   

The girls had nothing against you, on the contrary, they thought you were very cool, and as long as you were treating Sophia well, everything would be in its proper place.   

When Sophia officially introduced you to the Kats, they asked thousands of questions; "How old are you?", "How long has this been happening?", "What are your intentions with our Sophia?"  

You answered all the questions calmly, I mean, those girls were very important to Sophia, and Sophia was very important to those girls, you would answer as many questions as they wanted.   

Despite all the noise and interrogation, you noticed that one of those girls was very quiet. Yoonchae. 

When you first spoke to the girl, you could notice how she was struggling with her pronunciation, and when she said she was Korean, your brain raced.   

You had learned a few words in Korean a few years ago. You couldn't say you were fluent, but you had a good grasp of the language.  

You swear you'll never forget the smile the girl gave you when you spoke in Korean to her.   

meeting her family 

Getting through the Kats' approval was harder than going through Sophia's parents' approval.   

In fact, they didn't even question it, Sophia's family was extremely receptive, and of course the Filipino girl had talked about you before. So when you arrived you were greeted with friendly hugs from everyone. 

Sophia's family was like your second family, you adored them as much as Sophia. So when Sophia went to visit her parents, she always took you along.   

You cooked with her mother, fixed things Sophia's dad asked you to do (he always said it was so you would remember the old days at Dream Academy), and spent time with her brother.   

At the end of the day, Sophia was fighting to get your attention, but she knows she wouldn't trade it for anything.   

my first headcanon ofc, well, I'm very happy that you guys are enjoying "Fam Out". feel free to send things, I love to see your ideas <3

(request)

[spidermans-l-o-v-e-r]

You Were Made For Lovin’ Me

Pairing: Eddie Diaz x Reader

Word count: 4.4k

Notes: This is connected to I Was Made For Lovin’ You

Day 9: Somnophilia

Eddie watches you carefully through the screen. You guys were gonna be late, he knows it. But he can’t really be bothered to care, especially knowing you’re finally going with him. 

God it took you long enough to finally come around to accepting a date with him, he wasn’t pushy, he wasn’t aggressive, and he gave you time to think about going on a date with him. 

Even if it made him a little crazy when you’d shyly turn him down each time, always acting like it was some sort of joke. It was never a joke, not when it came to you. 

You’d changed at least six times, personally, he really liked the black dress that you deemed “too sexy” for tonight, which honestly it was perfect for tonight.

Actually.

He grabs his other phone from the charger and dials your number. He watches the way you jump suddenly, fumbling with your makeup and reaching for your phone. He mutes the feed as soon as you pick it up.

“Hello?” 

“Hey gorgeous”

You flail a little and take a deep breath before clearing your throat 

“Oh hey Eddie,” you say as nonchalantly as possible and he melts, watching you wriggle excitedly 

“Have you uh, already decided what you wanted to wear? I thought we could match” 

He watches you stop for a second, looking through the doorway to your bed full of clothes 

“Um…why don’t you pick! You know the vibe of the party more than I do”

He grins, switching over to the next camera as you go into your bedroom 

“Why not something black? Maybe something a little… skimpy?” 

Your mouth drops open and he grins widely as you look back over at that dress from earlier. 

“Seems kinda scandalous don’t you think?” You joke a little and he can see the burning embarrassment on your cheeks 

“I just know how Buck’s parties can get… and I know you want to fit in with my friends, even if they already love you. If you’re comfortable with it baby girl, honestly I think something you know, a little more revealing might be nice” 

He watches you stare at it, and the heels you paired with. You’re really thinking it over, you bite the tip of your thumb and sigh. 

“What are you gonna wear?” 

“What do you want me to wear?” 

Why is this reverse what are you wearing and why is Eddie so into it? He can feel his cock twitch in his pants as you mull things over.

“I have a silk shirt” He offers, watching you hold that skimpy little number he’s craving to see you in up to your body. 

“It’s red… with a pair of black jeans maybe?” 

“I have red heels,” You say distractedly 

He knows. 

“Sounds like we have an outfit! I’ll come get you in 20 minutes okay? You hurry up and get dressed” 

“I will! I’ll see you soon!!” 

“See you soon pretty girl” 

He hangs up and unmutes the feed again, watching you squeal and stamp your feet excitedly. He fixes the collar on his shirt, leaving the top few buttons undone, and fixes his hair in the mirror before grabbing his other phone and heading out. 

He’s got a stop to make first. 

Eddie arrives at your house exactly 20 minutes later, he comes up to the door with a skip in his step and knocks twice. He’s tempted to just unlock it himself and come right in, but no, no he needs to wait for the right moment for that. 

He knocks again, getting a little antsy. He didn’t mind being late. But he also needed to make sure you were there long enough to be tired and need to go home or else tonight was not going to be what he wanted it to be 

“I’m coming!!!” You call through the door, he can hear the loud click of your heels as you come running to the door. You throw the door open and Eddie’s mouth falls open slightly. 

“What’s wrong?” You look down at your dress, doing a little spin and checking yourself all over and Eddie squirms a little, having to… adjust some things 

“Y-you look… holy shit,” He says quietly and you blush, running your hand over your dress. 

“Y-you like it? Really?” The spaghetti straps are doing their job of keeping you in the low-cut top and Eddie both hates and loves them for that 

“These are for you” He pulls the flowers from behind his back and pushes them in your face. A dozen of the best roses in the shop, he’d had them readied that afternoon. 

“Oh!” You giggle and step back a little, taking them from him “They’re so beautiful. You wanna come in for a second? I’ll just drop them in a vase real quick and we can go. I’ll arrange them later” 

He eagerly follows you in, it’s the first time he’s stepped foot in your house… by your invitation anyway. 

“Nice place,” He says, slipping his hands in his pockets as he follows you into the kitchen. You bend over to grab the vase from under the sink and he openly stares at your ass as you root around. You take out the blue one he likes, you’d made it one summer in a pottery workshop, and fill it with ice cubes and water. You plop the roses in and turn around to set them on the counter. He didn’t bother hiding the hungry look in his eyes, there wasn’t really a point, not with you dressed like that, he couldn’t hide how that dress made him feel. 

“You um- you ready t-to go?” You ask, your voice a bit high-pitched and he nods, reaching out for your hand 

“I’m very ready to go” 

The party is in full swing by the time you get there, everyone is there, Tommy comes over and squeezes you, lifting you off the floor and you wheeze. 

“Can’t breathe!!” You wriggle in his arms and he lets you go 

“Shit- sorry” He laughs a little “Oh hey Eddie!” 

Eddie is standing there, his hands itching to be back on you, he gives Tommy a fake smile, it doesn’t really reach his eyes and he’s glad he doesn’t really seem to notice that.

“You guys come here together?” Tommy bends down to your height and you roll your eyes, flicking his nose and he laughs 

“Yeah, actually we did!” Eddie fake laughs, he grabs you by the waist and pulls you back against him and you look up at him with a silly smile on your face, which seems to ease the tension he’s feeling a bit. He leans down and nuzzles his nose against yours and you giggle. 

“Wow, you guys are disgusting!” Buck says as he comes over, his hands full of red solo cups. Eddie grabs two and hands you yours as you try and kick at Buck.

“That’s not nice” Tommy chuckles, putting his arm around Buck’s waist 

“We can be just as bad” He kisses him, yanking his waist flush against him before pulling away. Buck giggles, he actually giggles and both you and Eddie snort, trying not to totally harass him for that.

“Shut up!!”

After that, Eddie is glued to your side the entire time, just like he promised. He doesn’t let you take two steps without him taking three, his body stays pressed to yours and you don’t mind it in the least. 

You’re not doing very much talking but he’s not surprised by that, you don’t know a lot of the people here, he however seems to know almost everyone and everyone just seems to love him apparently. 

You frown a little at that but get over it quickly. You’ll know everyone soon enough. 

The music incidentally, is great. You’d known Buck for a while now at this point and his taste in music was definitely improving. 

Eddie pulls you over to the makeshift dance floor as a slower song comes on. The beat pumps through your body as you dance against him. He takes your hips, grinding against them as you dance together. You reach back, cupping the side of his face and pulling him closer to you, he buries his face in your neck, kissing you softly and inhaling your sweet perfume, it’s the one he likes the best. He’d made sure to “misplace” a couple of your others he didn’t really care for. 

“Fuck, I love you” he mumbles against your skin, the words are too muffled for you to really make out. You don’t say anything and he doesn’t want you to, the moment he tells you how much he loves you is going to be a special one, not while you’re tipsy and dancing at one of his friend's parties.

As the night gets later, a very drunken game of never have I ever breaks out. You’re sat in Eddie’s lap, leaning against him lazily, a little sleepy, he’s not even sure you’re paying attention to the game really. His fingers ghost over your skin as he occasionally kisses your neck, watching the way your cheeks flush when he drinks at a particularly nasty question. 

“Y/N, you haven’t drunk like anything” Buck’s tone is teasing and you perk up a little, waking up. Mostly everyone’s cups are empty and yours still sits at more than half full. 

“I don’t think she was paying attention” Eddie chuckles, rubbing your thigh and you turn back to look at him. 

“I was too!” 

“You haven’t drunk anything!” 

“I know that!” You blush lightly and he sits up, his eyes lighting up as he stares at you 

“Y-you mean to tell me-“ 

“Eddie it’s your turn,” One of Buck's friends says and they all look at him but he can’t stop staring at you. 

“Never have I ever had sex” 

Your eyes widen as he slowly sips from his cup, they all laugh at him and make fun of him for doing such an easy one and the game continues. 

But you don’t drink. 

Eddie slides you off his lap, he doesn’t have a choice, he can’t have you sitting there anymore, he’d end up plowing you right there in front of everyone. 

You’re a virgin? How did he not know that? How didn’t he know that?? He knew absolutely everything about you, how could he have missed that? He thought back through every moment he’d been watching you, every time you’d pleasured yourself. And he’s starting to realize…You’d never once put anything inside you. He thought it was just a fucking preference not that you weren’t used to it. 

His sweet angel really was an angel. A gorgeously pure thing, completely untouched by any man. Oh god, he could work with this he knew he could, he could just feel himself sinking inside you for the first time, watching you sniffle and bite your lip at the pain. But you were a brave girl, he knew that he knew you could take him… 

And he’d be the only man you ever needed, the only man you ever wanted! He’d be sure of that, he’d blow your mind while blowing your back out-.

“Eddie? Is everything okay?” You give him a little shake and that’s when he realizes he’s been staring blankly into his cup 

“H-huh?” He starts, looking at you. You look so… sad. Nervous? He doesn’t know, you just don’t look happy anymore. 

“Hey, hey what’s wrong?” He coos, cupping your face, you pull away quickly though, and get up, walking away from him. He sets his cup down on the coffee table and hurries after you, watching you run up the stairs and into the bathroom. He takes the stairs two at a time, dodging people and drinks and some other third thing, and gets to the top of the stairs. He climbs over the caution tape and knocks on the door. 

“Y/N? Honey? Let me in” 

“No!” 

He can hear the little wobble in your voice and his heart immediately drops 

“Baby come on” his fist hits the door a little more intensely now, so you can hear him over the music 

bam! bam! Bam!

“Open the door, please” He lays his head against the door, his voice wavering. 

“Y/N open- open the door” he chokes on his words and the door flies open, your eyes are wide and tear-filled 

“Are you crying??” You ask, wiping your eyes and he looks at you, his face sad and pathetic 

“Are you okay??” What happened baby?” He moves you out of the way gently, shutting the door behind him and resting against it 

“Are you serious?” You scoff and he grabs your wrist, turning you toward him 

“I’m very serious” his eyes darken and you melt under his stare, it sends shivers up your spine and you wrap your arms around yourself, putting your head down. 

“You didn’t say anything… a-after you found out I was a virgin. You didn’t say anything. Y-you even took me out of your lap and-“

Suddenly your back is against the wall, Eddie’s arm above you as he leans against it. 

“You think for one second… that, that wasn’t the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard?” 

He hooks his finger under your chin, making you look at him. The air between the two of you crackles with electricity as he stares into your eyes. He sees you gulp nervously, and that just turns him on even more. 

“I like it when you’re scared” 

He smirks and leans in, capturing your lips in a searing kiss, his hands roaming your curves possessively as he presses you against the wall. You gasp into his kiss, your hands shaking as they slide up his soft silk shirt and clasp behind his neck.

He deepens the kiss, nipping at your lip and slipping his tongue into your mouth when you gasp. He grins as he explores your mouth, his hands slide down to grip your ass and pull you against him. 

You whimper into his mouth as he lets his possessive side bleed into it just the tiniest bit. You feel his erection against your thigh and your eyes widen, he pulls away, both of you gasping for breath before he’s back on you, attacking your neck, nipping along your skin, and leaving little bite marks. 

You whine and push at his chest weakly “E-Eddie we should get back to the party”

He grabs your wrists, pinning them against the wall now, and keeps biting at your neck. He can’t get enough of you, you moan as he grinds his cock against you, you can feel the way it teases your heated core. 

“Do you know… how sexy it is, that no man has ever touched you?” 

He kisses the shell of your ear, panting softly, you can still feel his cock grinding against you. He puts your hands together and holds them in one of his while the other reaches down and starts to lift the hem of your dress. 

“No man… has had the absolute privilege, of knowing what your sweet little pussy feels like” 

Your heart is beating out of your chest as you stare at him, your doe eyes wide, your body completely overwhelmed. 

“What it tastes like…” 

You feel his fingers touch the front of your panties, his eyes close slowly as he feels how soaked they are. He kisses your neck gently, soothing all the little bites. 

“Soon” he growls, pushing them to the side. His fingers tease your folds, you can feel his cock twitch again as he touches you. He moans lowly in your ear.

“You wax huh?” He mutters and you gulp, shrugging nervously 

“I-it’s California. It’s always swimsuit weather” 

He couldn’t argue with you there 

“D-do you not like it?” You ask, and you’re wondering why it matters to you if he does… but some little part of you, some teeny tiny little part wants him to like it

“What do you think?” He looks at you, gently stroking your folds, purposely not putting pressure on the exact spot he knows you like it (just to the left of your clit, with enough pressure on it that it’s not overstimulating but damn does it feel good) 

“T-that you do?” You’re a little hesitant, but he smiles, pulling his fingers from you and putting them in his mouth, sucking them clean 

“Thats right babygirl” 

Eddie is quiet on the way back to his place. This is going better than he ever thought it would honestly, he’s got his hand on your thigh, stroking slowly as he watches the road. He’s driven home from Buck’s a billion times, he could do it with his eyes closed and as his mind wanders he’s glad about that. 

How could it not wander? You’re in his front seat, eyelids drooping, and your head keeps falling forward, god you’re so cute when you’re sleepy. He purposely turned on the heated seat for you and put on the stereo to the smooth jazz station. 

He looks over at you again, the red lights illuminating your sleeping face as you finally drift off, snuggled into his arm. He smiles down at you, you’re just so cute, so precious, so pure. 

His hand slides further up your thigh, under your dress, had he known you hadn’t been touched he would have made you wear something a little looser but it’s whatever. His fingers stroke the front of your panties and you shift a bit.

“Hm?” Your eyes barely even open “Eddie?” You mumble and he slows down 

“It’s okay babygirl go back to sleep” He coos softly “I’ll wake you up when we get home okay?” 

You nod slowly, snuggling into his shoulder more “Kay” you mumble, already falling back asleep. He stalls for a second, waiting for your breathing to slow down again, and grins when it does

“Such a good girl for me”

His fingers go back to work, feeling that little wet patch on the front of your panties, he can just imagine kissing them softly, licking It up while you stare at him with wide, innocent eyes. 

Oh the things he can’t wait to do to you 

You squirm a little and he uses that movement to push your panties to the side and slip his fingers between your folds, to the left of your clit, with just enough pressure…

You moan breathlessly, grinding against his fingers and he lets his head fall back against the headrest. He’s so blissed out right now, you’re such a needy little thing, even when you’re unconscious and he can’t wait to find out what you’re like when he’s inside you. 

“Come on baby girl,” He says quietly, his fingers working your clit, he watches your face, your features twisting in pleasure… he decides to chance it, he has to. He sinks his middle finger into you, your body jolts and he freezes for a second, he’s ready to pull his hand away even if he’s not altogether sure that he minds getting caught. 

“O-oh Eddie…” you moan sleepily, still out cold 

Oh god, oh my god.

You’re having a sex dream about him. 

His cock is already rock hard in his pants, and somehow it manages to get even harder. He can feel the precum leaking all over his boxers and all he wants to do is shove his cock deep inside you and fuck you over and over until you can’t walk. 

All he can think about is holding you down on his cock as you writhe and cry while he fills you with cum. Fuck you’d look so so pretty with it dripping down your legs as you made breakfast.

Eddie’s not sure when it happened, but suddenly he’s pulled over with his hand shoved down his pants and he’s getting you both off at the same time, he’s rubbing your clit faster, trying not to wake you and jerking himself off as fast as he can. 

His jaw clenches as he cums, thick, hot, ropes coat the steering wheel while he growls your name lowly, trying so hard not to shout. He looks over at you, feeling your body is shaking and he realizes you’re cumming with him. You pant softly, rolling your hips quickly against his fingers as you use them to get off. You slowly stop moving and curl up tighter, making happy, little whimpering noises. He pulls his hand away, licking it clean as it’s coated in your juices.

He knows you won’t remember this, but god he will and that’s all that matters. One day, when you’re his, he’ll tell you all about it, every last detail and he can’t wait for it. 

Eddie finally pulls into the driveway and shuts the car off. He leans back in his seat, taking a deep breath before looking over at you. 

What’s the plan now? 

He gets out and picks you up out of the truck before going to the door. He’d always imagined your first night together, he’d eat you out until you were crying in desperation and then he’d give you what you wanted all night long. He had serious stamina, he’d been working on it just for you… you got off so much that he figured you were just needy… but god was he wrong. 

He’d have to plan something nicer, nicer than just some candles and sexy music, no he needed to wine and dine you first, get you relaxed and in the mood… he could do that, he could do that so easily. 

He just had to convince you to do it. 

He sets you down on the bed, kissing your forehead before taking off your shoes. He runs his hands down your calf, massaging them gently after being in heels for hours. 

He carefully rolls you onto your side and unzips your dress, he chuckles a little, thinking about earlier when he watched you spinning in circles trying to zip it yourself, had he known it was so hard to get on he’d have come earlier to help zip it.

He’s the one that put you in it after all. 

He moves your arms, getting them out of the thin spaghetti straps, and stops for a second, taking a deep breath. He’s gotta be strong, he can’t rip your panties off. He’d never be able to explain why they were in shreds on his floor. 

He shimmies your dress down, revealing your body to him slowly. He’d seen it before, he’d watched you get dressed how many times? But this? This was different. He could actually touch you. 

He decides to indulge just a little, he sets your dress down in the chair next to his bed and comes back over, letting his fingers ghost over your skin. You’re so smooth and soft, he’d seen you in the shower earlier he knew you put work into this. 

His fingers dance over your panties, and he grins, because he remembers what he felt.  He takes his time pulling them to the side, like opening a perfectly wrapped package. Your pretty lips glisten, slick with what he’d made you do earlier.

“Jesus Christ” He whispers, licking his lips slowly. He bends down, inhaling your sweet scent as much as he can. He’s practically delirious as he nuzzles his nose against your clit for a second, moaning lowly at your arousal. He stays there for a few minutes, between your legs, until he finally manages to pull himself away from that lingering scent in the air and on his nose. 

He drags his feet to the bathroom, grabbing a clean towel and wetting it with warm water before coming back. The cold air of the room hasn’t really done much to cool down your heated core and it also hasn’t done much to curb his desires. 

He sits on the edge of the bed and wipes you up carefully, he’s trying his best to do this objectively now, clean you up and put a t-shirt on you that’s all he’s gotta do. He bites his lip, watching the way you squirm a little as he caresses you between your legs. He wonders if you could do it again… 

No. No, he needs to be good right now. He finishes wiping you up and pats it dry with another towel before tossing them into the laundry basket, he’ll deal with that later. He grabs a t-shirt from his drawer, white of course because he would be damned if he didn’t put you in something he could clearly see your nipples through and tucked you into bed. 

After making sure you’re all settled in, with your phone on the charger, he goes into the bathroom. He opens the lowest cabinet and starts pulling out your skincare routine, setting it out neatly and getting the extra toothbrush he’d bought you. He had to go to two Walmarts and a Target to find the lavender one you loved, he was half tempted to just go to your house and take yours, but you’d definitely know it was yours when you came to his house eventually. 

He puts a washcloth out for you and flicks off the bathroom light. You’re still lying in his bed, curled up in a little ball in his t-shirt. How was he supposed to be patient when you looked that adorable? He crosses his room, grabs his iPad, and gets into bed with you. He sits at the edge of it and grabs your purse, pulling it closer. He opens his logs, filing everything he’d need. He goes through your wallet, gets your card numbers, and takes a photo of your ID, he finds a receipt for the library, he saw those books on your table earlier, he’d have to remind you to take them back. He gets everything he can out of the contents of your tiny bag and sets it all back in place before tossing it to your pile of clothes on the chair. 

Satisfied with his work he lays down, pulling your body into him and snuggling with you. You smell so good, you feel so good. He’s not sure he can let you go in the morning, he’s going to try honestly, but just thinking about not going to bed with you the next night stresses him out.

“You’re home now baby” He whispers in your ear, kissing it softly “You’re home” 

[izfims]

sugarcoat — yu jimin

synopsis: as a way to fix her image, jimin's team decides to host an event where one lucky fan gets to go on a date with the idol to show the world that she's a good person. since y/n's younger sister happens to be one of her biggest fans but unfortunately falls under the age limit, she decides to sign her older sibling up instead. there's no way she actually gets chosen.. right?

genre: smau + written, humor, idol x non idol, fluff, sprinkle of angst, reader wants nothing to do with jimin, jimin just wants to get this over with, forced proximity trope, the TENSION!!!

pairings: idol!yu jimin x fem!reader ft. le sserafim, aespa, & other idols

warnings: they are subject to change throughout the story because this is episodic, mentions of violence, profanity, kys/kms jokes

status: ongoing! updates will be whenever i feel like posting

notes: this is a work of pure fiction and the people involved are in no way connected to how they are in real life. if you want to be added to the taglist pls just ask. also ignore the time stamps n any other errors — enjoy :)

PROFILES!

get yn a gf | kwangays

CHAPTERS!

001. the incident

002. still my #2

003. date with a psycho

004. speak now

005. see you soon

006. free clout opportunity

007. enemies to lovers arc

008. beef with an idol

009. on thin ice

010. woman of the hour (written)

011. smile at the camera

012. disrespect yn day

013. blame it on the wind

014. i’m sorry (written)

015. don’t ghost

016. smiley face thumbs up

017. congratulations

018. solid pickup line

019. stop cockblocking

020. there it is

more to come…!

TAG LIST! (CLOSED)

@yoontoonwhs @imahallucination11 @slayc9 @nasyu-kookies @leyleypad @mightymyo @runawaymazola @jimanie @awkwardtoafault @limbforalimb @channiesprincess @neuftaeng @i06kkura @lesleepyyy @sewiouslyz @irishbarcafan @winieter @pandafuriosa60 @jiwoneiric @yumtooki @kimsgayness @justme-idle @tocupid @chaerybae

© izfims 2023

[33forthew1n]

party 4 u

🏎️❣️ fernando alonso x ex!reader 🏎️❣️

written ff, great gatsby-esque au

inspo: party 4 u by charli xcx

synopsis: One month with her had left him lovesick. 20 years later, he still loved her. Would this end with a ring on his finger or with him reuniting with his greatest love? WARNINGS: angst, messy, cheating, one curse word

a/n: this idea's been rotting my brain so i had to get it out there. enjoy :))

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At 43 years old, Fernando Alonso was still in his prime. Excelling at his career and happily engaged to a stunning socialite, Emilie Martínez. If you saw them on the tabloids, you'd think they were a loving couple and Fernando had it all.

Yet, you couldn't be more wrong. It was a loveless engagement..on Fernando's side.

Her parents sponsored him through Santander and had arranged their relationship. She couldn't be happier to be with him, next to him, and most importantly be seen with him. She might think she loves Fernando, but he knows she loves the cameras even more.

Her parents had put together an engagement party tonight, fatigued by all the money they'd spent just to have him postpone the wedding date.

Previous nights before, Fernando had done something he shouldn't have. He knew it was wrong. But, it was his last chance. His last chance to live. To truly love. If he didn't take it, he'd hate himself till the end of time.

He'd asked the wedding invitation curator to send an invite to an "old friend" and to not tell the Martínezes about it. To just end the invitation with "From, Alonso." You'd know it was from him. For a second he doubted if you would come. For heavens sake, twenty years was a lifetime away. Would you have a husband? A kid? A whole life?

But, he quickly threw that notion away. Of course you would come. You loved him just as much as he loved you. All he needed to do was prove to you that he'd never forgotten you and that you were still his greatest treasure.

And so he asked for your invitation to be sent out promptly. The next step in his life couldn't wait a second longer.

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You didn't know when your life became like this. This loveless, broken cycle.

Fuck it. Who are you kidding? Of course you know when everything went downhill.

The day you married Carlos.

Your husband, Carlos, was a tyrant. He thought a man ought to rule everything; the world, his own life, his home, and his woman.

You'd known who he was when you married him, you could never claim naivety.

But, he'd had the only thing your parents asked you to find in a husband: money.

You'd grown up a princess, getting everything you wanted and never hearing no. And your parents wanted your life to continue to be comfortable and lavish.

When Carlos courted you, you didn't take him very seriously. Sure you were both from elite, upper class families but that's where your similiarities end. Where he was brass and controlling, you were sweet and captivating.

It's not like The Beauty and the Beast would have ever lived happily ever after...right?

You'd loved him. Once. Was it when you were walking down the aisle towards his uninterested face? Or when you caught him talking to his mistress mid-dinner? Ah, maybe when you'd realized that the penniless Fernando Alonso could never be yours? It was only then in the confines of your doubt in a happily ever after that you'd ever loved even the idea of Carlos.

Lost in thought of a love you'd never truly given a chance to flourish, you didn't see the maid walk into your living room. Esmerelda gently placed an envelope on the main table and quietly walked to the kitchen.

Despite being a socialite, you didn't often get your own mail. Anyone who wanted to talk to the illustrious Yn knew to call the home line. Yet, this piece of mail had just your name on it and a pink balloon stamp on the upper right corner. Curiously, you slid your finger under the corners of the envelope and opened it.

Your eyes skimmed the text and you flinched when you saw the sign off. "From, Alonso". You'd never had two words elicit such a reaction from you.

A...wedding invitation?

After twenty years of wondering and trying to forget, he sends you a damned wedding invitation?

If you were just a tad bit more impulsive, you'd have ripped the letter to shreds. Forget the class you'd been instilled to show no matter what!

After reading through the invitation at least a dozen more times, you made up your mind. You'd go.

Only to see if he's suffering in an unhappy relationship like you are. Maybe to see if he still cares about you. To see if he still loves you.

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Without RSVPing, you allowed it to inch closer to June 19th. It's not like he deserved the pleasure of knowing that you'd be there, anyway.

On the eve of June 19th, you made up some bullshit excuse about going out of town for the weekend. All Carlos did was wave you off and curse to leave him alone.

And so you did. You packed overnight bags with your prettiest, most expensive dresses and left with your chaueffer.

Once you reached the rehearsal dinner grounds, you released a breath you didn't know you were holding. The address on the invitation was real. It led to a tangible place. This wasn't just some daydream you'd made up to get close to Fernando again.

As you enter the large ornate hall you check in with a woman who seems to be the maid of honor. She's bustling around and making sure that nobody bothers the bride with anything. She looks at you with a look of curiousity but ushers you in anyhow.

Once inside, your eyes tear up. This is what your wedding could have looked like. Should have looked like. If only you'd allowed yourself to love the man who was deeply entrenched in everything that was you. Now, another woman gets to have that.

Blinking quickly to get rid of tears, you allow yourself to look at everything around you. The pink ballons, the DJ in the corner, the bottles of champagne decorating the table, the white rose centerpieces, and the silk napkins with Alonso engraved on them.

God, it was all so stunning.

Exactly your taste. To a tee.

Unbeknownst to you, Fernando had been watching you from a window across the hall since you'd walked in.

It was funny, Fernando thought, how twenty years later you still looked like the love of his life.

Still beautiful but certainly older. More mature. You no longer have that innocent, youthful beauty you once did but an elegant, regal charm he couldn't deny.

If he was any more impatient, he'd whisk you off your feet in front of everyone. But, alas, he could wait until the end of the night.

As you sat down at your seat on the very end of the table, you wondered if there was a reason as to why he'd invited you. He seemed to have it all. Where did you fit into this equation?

As the rehearsal wore on, you thought you'd found a pretty good reason. He wanted you to see him happy. To see him loving another woman. He wanted to see you seethe with jealousy and ache with hurt.

And so, once the last toast had been made you scurried off. A little drunk and very emotional, you tried to leave the grounds as fast as possible to rot in bed until the sun comes up.

That's when you heard rocks crunching from behind you and a man yell, "Yn! Yn! One moment, please. We must talk!"

You would recognize that accent anywhere.

Startled, you almost trip in your heels. Fernando sees this and begins to jog towards you faster.

Now the two of you are side by side.

"Twenty years", is all he says.

You ignore him, unable to respond.

"You remember Monaco in 2005? How great it was? We loved each other so much even back then, mi amor", he said tentatively.

Of course you remembered.

Your love affair with Fernando had started in 2005. And promptly ended a month later.

But, God, it was beautiful while it lasted.

The parties he'd take you to every weekend, celebrating as if to make up for every landmark you'd missed by not being by his side. They were loud, all glitz and glamour.

He'd show up at your place in the wee hours of the night and the two of you would always sneak out.

Being with him was forbidden for you. You'd known it then. Your parents wouldn't allow you to be with some racer. They'd wanted you to marry a known man of good standing not some kid who lives like a rockstar and not an heir to a business empire.

Yet, loving your Alonso was passion. It was beautiful, raw passion that coursed through your veins when you were with him. Making out at 2 a.m. in the back of a millionaire motorsport athlete's home or waking up in his bed well past noon; it didn't matter- loving him was always fiery.

But, what haunts your memory the most is how it ended. You knew it would end, sure. How it ended, though, was something that you'd never really gotten over.

It wasn't a passionate argument or screaming match that ended your month long affair with the Spaniard.

Instead, you were ghosted by him. Left behind in a random hotel bed with just a phone number on a sticky note that read "Call me, hermosa. One day we'll see each other again."

And so you called him. At first, he replied. The first two years after were big for him, winning two world championships back to back and cementing himself as a motorsport legend. He was estatic but you could tell he was hungrier than ever to win more, to be more. He'd talk of a future with you in it. One where your parents would be unable to deny their approval of your love. Where you would wake up by his side and not a day would be spent apart. You'd been holding on to those promises for two years, but eventually your patience withered.

Your relationship with Fernando ended.

Between his career and your growing desire for more, the sparks in your relationship faded.

Suddenly, daily calls became weekly and then montly.

In 2007, you only heard from him once. On New Years' Eve, he called. The last words you'd ever heard from Alonso up until today were, "Mi amor, wait for me. You'll see...we will be together soon."

Coming back to reality, you looked at the man in front of you. He was still your Alonso. Bold, fiery, handsome...but you were no longer his. No longer the woman he loved. When would he realize that?

The silence grew unbearable.

"You know..I only threw this party for you?", he said while looking out into the dock. He seemed to be staring at a distant green light with transfixed eyes.

The shock on my face was evident.

"It's your wedding party, Alonso. That's not possible", I replied with quick wit.

"Maybe so, but I was just hoping you would come through. I needed to see you. To see if you were still that woman I loved so deeply."

He was always like this. A charmer. Oh so romantic. Everything Carlos isn't.

I'm not sure what overcame me, but I turned around and reached for his face. He closed his eyes, as if treasuring a moment he'd spent years aiming to achieve. You kissed him with every bit of passion and love in your body until you both had to catch a breath.

And for the two days leading up to his wedding, Fernando Alonso and you were deeply and irrevocably entranced with eachother. Between every event, you found one another. Those two days, he fell asleep next to you. He woke up to your face, just like he had promised to do all those years ago.

This warped reality the two of you created was impossible to actually live in. You knew that. You had all those years ago cemented Fernando Alonso as the one that got away.

His fianceé all the while was growing suspicious. Unbeknownst to you, Emilie had seen Alonso drunkedly stumble from your hotel room to hers. She ripped him a new one, but he couldn't have cared less. He finally had everything he'd ever wanted. He wasn't about to let you get away or let Emilie get in the way.

The day of the wedding you were nowhere to be found. He'd looked in your hotel room just to see cleaning service getting rid of the last traces of you. He'd looked for you in the spot behind the wedding hall, the bar, the pool, and even the rooftop.

You'd disappeared.

'No. No. No. This isn't happening..it's just a bad dream.'

Yet, this wasn't just a nightmare. It was his reality.

The next few hours felt like years as he was getting ready for his wedding. Faking laughs and putting on a happy facade for his brothers-in-law wasn't anything new for Alonso, yet it didn't make it any easier for him.

Waiting at the alter for his soon-to-be-bride was no easier. As he stood there, he felt himself reduced to nothingness. He was in disbelief. How could you have been so close to being his and suddenly so far out of his reach?

After Emilie reached the altar, she smiled at him. She was giddy to get married. Fernando couldn't have felt farther from happiness, yet he stuck on a smile that would make anyone think otherwise.

After saying his vows, he grabbed the ring from his best man. He looked out into the crowd and saw your wistful face in the back of the church. You looked into his eyes and shook your head. In the blink of an eye, you'd left the church.

The last time you saw the love of your life was when he got married to another woman.

And the last time he thought of your love affair was the moment he put a ring on Emilie's finger.

In that moment, Fernando realized you'd made your decision. This love you two had for each other was no longer.

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Leaving Fernando was the second greatest heartbreak you ever experienced in your life.

The first was your marriage to Carlos.

Yet, this was for the best. You'd never stray from that belief.

Carlos wasn't passionate or fiery. But, he was comfort and status. It didn't matter what Fernando could make you feel when Carlos was what you were made to choose. You're a socialite princess and you must remain one.

This other idea had also begun to bloom in your mind when Fernando had confessed his love for you at his wedding: he wasn't in love with the the you from the present but with the naive girl of his past.

You were no longer innocent and whimsical. You haven't been for twenty years. Yet, Fernando couldn't see that. He was blinded by the memories and emotions that you two had once shared to see you were now jaded by your reality and suffocated by expecations.

In the end, that party was never for you and neither was his love. It didn't belong to you, but to this version of you he'd made up in his head all those years ago.

[saphstories]

I'm Already There

For @e-vay. 😘

Something was different today. Perhaps it was the shade of blue in the sky, not as bright as it should be, dotted with the occasional white cloud? Or the fragrance of the flowers, lilies and roses not as sweet on the breeze as they bloomed? Or even the sun itself, not as warm even with the first day of spring in full arrival?

Amy Rose sighed and stroked her fingertip down the lonely stalk of a blown dandelion, watching the seeds dance in the wind with downcast green eyes, off to places unknown for planting and blooming.

...Or, maybe...just maybe...Was it her own heart's ache that made today so somber? ...Could it be...the absence of her heart that made this beautiful day awash in grey?

Amy shook her head and dropped the stem on the grass beneath her checkered picnic blanket. She was being silly, that silly lovesick Amy Rose... but try as she might to enjoy the warmth of the sun, the blue of the sky, the fragrance of flowers...it still wasn't right.

She harrumphed. This was ridiculous. He hadn't even been gone long, only a couple of days, and here she was, pining and moping, wasting a perfectly lovely day. "Pull yourself together, Rose." The pink hedgehog grumbled, flopping back onto the blanket to glower up at the sky. "Sonic's been gone for far longer than this before... you used to go months with only sparse texts!"

As if conjured by her grouching, the communicator at her side beeped and flashed with the specific tone for a message from the Blue Blur himself. Amy pretended she waited a moment, calmly picking up the device to check with poise and grace and not at all like the crazed kid she used to be...but she couldn't even fool herself. She lunged for the communicator, eagerly bringing up her messages with large green eyes full of stars.

It was a photo. Stamped for only a few minutes prior, with a towering ice cream sundae topped with dripping fudge, tiny chocolate chips, a sugar cone spear, and a bright red cherry on top. Amy's mouth watered at the sight, and her lips curved up into a smile at the winking grin the handsome blue hedgehog at the corner of the frame posed for the camera. 'Best thing about Apotos: Chocolate Sundae Supreme! Though the ice cream will never be as sweet as you. 😉 Wish you were here, Ames! Maybe you could come with next time? I might even share 😜 Xoxoxoxo'

Amy giggled, a lovely flush worthy of her name spreading across her cheeks. She caressed the screen lovingly, longingly, her heart both heavy and warm. It was far from the first text he'd sent since his departure, and she treasured each one, each call he graced her with at morning and night she relished in his voice.

...Who was she kidding? Amy missed him, felt his absence as keenly as she did the blanket beneath her. She missed his laughter, his smile, his confidence, his touch. It had only been two days... but two minutes would have been more than enough without her Sonic. Now, she supposed, that he was truly hers, just as that she was his.

Amy jumped, startled, when the communicator let out a sweet melody. "You give me butterflies~," It sang, and Amy hurried to answer it.

"Hey there, troublemaker!" The familiar voice smoothed the disquiet in Amy's heart, and she relaxed on the blanket for the first time all morning. "Ya didn't answer my text. Busy?"

"Maybe a bit, but I suppose I can squeeze you in." Amy teased.

"Don't worry, I'll make it worth your while." Sonic's voice dropped to a low purr, full of promise, and Amy giggled, blushing pink even if he couldn't see. "Whatcha up to?"

"Nothing too exciting, just sitting under the apple tree." Amy said dismissively. "How was the ice cream?"

"Awesome, like always. How'd you like to know for yourself sometime? Next time we track ol Eggy to Apotos, we could make a date out of it?"

Sonic the Hedgehog offering to take her on a date would never cease to make a thrill skitter through her fur. "It's a date." Amy agreed.

It was quiet on the line for a long moment, and Amy wondered if Sonic had gotten distracted with something else... "You okay, Ames?" His voice was soft, full of concern. "You sound..." He trailed off.

He knew her far too well. "Yeah. I'm fine," She sighed and pinched her nose. "I just... really miss you." Amy confessed, her voice dropping into a whisper, as if her volume could hide her embarrassment. "It's ridiculous, I know, I'm sorry-,"

"Amy Rose." Sonic cut her off, firm and gentle, so confident but so sweet. "Nothing you ever feel is ridiculous, and never be sorry for telling me how you feel. I know I'm not the best at emotions, but you never have to hide yours from me. I don't want you to, not ever. You're Amy Rose, the most passionate, strong, and incredible person I know, and so much of that is because of that big, beautiful heart of yours." He huffed a quiet laugh. "As for missing me, well..." Amy could hear the smile in his voice, the affection that drifted through the speakers straight to her heart. "You don't need to. I'm already there. Can't you feel me?"

"Sonic, I-," Amy breathed.

"I'm right there beside you, Ames. You just need to look around. Can't you see me?" Sonic hummed lovingly. "Can't you feel me there? I'm the sunshine in your quills, that breeze that kisses your cheek." Amy closed her eyes, a smile stretching on her muzzle as the breeze tickled her cheek fur, her quills warmed and shimmering in the sunbeams. "I'm as close as your shadow, holding you in my arms on the blanket, right there with you. I'm there, Ames, right there in your heart. And as long as you keep me there, no matter how far I go, wherever I go, just remember: so long as you love me, I'm already there."

(Welcome to This Day Masterpost!)

[xreaderdumpster]

Steven Grant x Long distance! Reader- A postcard

I wanted to write more Steven Grant and found this postcard from the British museum that gave me ideas:

https://www.britishmuseumshoponline.org/ancient-egyptian-pharaoh-hoji-frog-greetings-card.html

No content warning, pure cute fluff!

Word count: 576

Flickering through your piles of mail was the least exciting part of your day when you had any. Bill, random take out flyer, local cleaning service, all the same. Except the little envelope right at the back. Your address was neatly written on the front and the stamp was almost perfectly placed in the upper right. The back was empty, no indication to the sender. Then you smelt it. A faint, unmistakable cologne. You knew only one person who wore cologne that smells of cinnamon and cloves. Steven Grant, your boyfriend. He’d sent you something, how sweet!

Your sofa creaked as you sat down before hurriedly opening the envelope. Inside was a simple greeting card. The front was from the British Museum, where he worked, depicting a painting of a frog in an Ancient Egyptian Pharaoh which made you giggle. Opening the card made small things fall out onto your lap. A number of small polaroid style photos, a small sweet in the wrapping paper and a piece of paper. The polaroids were of you and Steven, smiling into the camera at various museum spots. One was even a photo of just you from the side, staring adoringly at a statue of the goddess Isis. Your smile only grew as the fond memories of your museum hopping date around London came flooding to your mind. It was only last week but with your job and his, it kept you both apart. Long distance was hard at times but it meant you had days long dates, more memories. The sweet was a small chewy sweet a woman was handing out as a promotional freebie for the sweet shop you passed. The sweet was delicious, you ate it immediately. Steven didn’t, saying “I’ll save it for later, love.” but never saw him eat his. Finally, the piece of paper was a small menu from the Chinese restaurant you had both visited. He didn’t realise his bowl of soup was spicy until his cheeks turned red and he began panting. It made you laugh. On the menu, he had circled the items you’d both tried with little annotations. “Spring rolls- the veg ones were so good :D”, “This soup is WAY too spicy D:<”, “(Y/N) loved this! Will order next time <3”, etc. all written in blue against the black printed text. You put the items to the side before opening the greeting card.

“Hi love,

Hope you’re having a nice day whenever you receive this! Thank you again for such a wonderful day in London. I wanted to remember every second which I guess would be impossible as I don’t have photographic memory! But I did want to remember as much as I possibly could. So I’ve got copies of the photos too! Jake and Marc are jealous haha. But I’m so glad we can share these moments together. Know you liked the candy that woman gave us so saved mine for you :) You’re special to me. To all three of us obviously! But I feel you and I have a closer connection, wouldn’t you agree?

Every day since knowing you has been an adventure of the best kind. You make me smile every day just by continuing to breathe. Continuing to be you and existing in our microscopic existence. I love you, Y/N.

Sorry, I just rambled on a postcard. Have a wonderful rest of your day, darling!

Lots and lots of love,

Steven

Xxxxxxx”

[estellan0vella]

Sunshine's Guide To Murder│Lee Minho

Chapter Nineteen: You Made Her Your Downfall SS: 6 (ignore time stamps and dates) Word Count: 3.8K Content Warnings: Talks of rape, threats, violence, blood, Minho is ferally protective Previous Next Masterlist

Minho’s car purrs softly in the shadows of the dilapidated apartment building, its deep metallic hum resonating against the backdrop of distant city traffic that ebbs and flows like a heartbeat. Inside the vehicle, an electric tension hangs heavy in the air, palpable and suffocating.

Minho's fingers brush against the small button camera discreetly pinned to his shirt, the inconspicuous device melding effortlessly with his dark attire, ready to capture every moment lurking in the dim light of the evening.

“Chan, Changbin, Seungmin, and Hyunjin are at the storage locker now,” Minho mutters, his eyes fixed on the building ahead. “Felix and Jeongin are back at your place with the nanny cam feed set up. Everything’s in position.” Minho flicks his gaze over to Hayun, who’s adjusting the thin strap of her silk green slip dress, the fabric barely reaching mid-thigh. Her white sneakers look almost innocent paired with it.

Jisung leans forward from the back seat, eyes narrowing as he notices the button camera on Minho’s chest. “Damn, they make those things real fucking good now,” he remarks, his voice low. “I can barely see the damn thing.”

Minho offers a tight smile. “Yeah, and if all goes well, he won’t either.”

Hayun takes a deep breath, her fingers trembling slightly as she reaches for the door handle. The weight of what she’s about to do presses heavily on her chest, but she steels herself, swallowing hard. “Let’s just get this over with,” she mutters under her breath.

Before she steps out of the car, Jisung leans forward, his voice serious. “As soon as you want out, we leave, okay?” His eyes are filled with concern, but there’s an edge to his voice, an understanding that this might be the only shot they have.

Hayun nods. “I know. I’ll be fine.”

Minho’s eyes follow her as she steps out of the car, his jaw tight. He watches as she straightens her dress and pulls her face mask up over her mouth, adjusting it carefully before turning toward the building. The dark green silk clings to her in a way that’s meant to draw attention, every step deliberate, calculated. She’s a weapon wrapped in vulnerability, and they all know it.

The three of them walk up the stairs to Mingi’s apartment, the smell of mildew and stale cigarettes clinging to the air. It feels like they’re walking into the belly of the beast. Hayun moves ahead of the guys, her nerves disguised by the sway of her hips, her sneakers squeaking slightly on the worn-out steps.

Jisung’s voice is barely a whisper behind her. “Remember, any second you want out—”

“I know,” Hayun cuts him off, her voice sharp but not unkind. She needs to do this, for herself, for Yuna. She knocks on the door twice, sharp and direct, and then steps back slightly, her heart hammering in her chest.

From out of sight, Jisung and Minho position themselves, staying out of view as planned.

The door creaks open, and there stands Song Mingi, dressed in a loose T-shirt and sweatpants, looking as smug as ever. His eyes land on Hayun, a slow, greasy smile spreading across his face as he leans against the doorframe.

“Well, well, well,” Mingi drawls, his eyes shamelessly dragging over her body. “Little Hayun. You grew up beautifully.”

Hayun pulls her mask down, exposing her face fully as she stares at him with cold, hard eyes. “Minho, Felix, Jeongin, and Jisung said you said ‘hi’ when they came to visit.”

Mingi’s smile doesn’t falter. If anything, it grows wider. “I always had a soft spot for you. Come on in, let’s catch up.”

Before he can make another sleazy remark, Minho and Jisung step into his line of view. The smug look on Mingi’s face vanishes instantly. His eyes widen, but before he can react, Minho lunges forward, grabbing Mingi by the collar and shoving him forcefully into the apartment.

“Inside. Now,” Minho growls, his voice ice cold.

Jisung and Hayun follow quickly, closing the door behind them. Mingi stumbles backward, his arms flailing as Minho forces him into a chair in the middle of the grimy living room. Mingi opens his mouth to protest, but Minho’s grip tightens around the back of his neck, forcing him to stay put.

“The night Yuna disappeared,” Minho begins, his tone deadly calm, “we know you didn’t kill her. Hayun, unfortunately, is your alibi.” He glances toward Hayun, his eyes softening for just a second before they harden again as he focuses back on Mingi. “But we think one of your victims did. So we want names.”

Mingi scoffs, his voice dripping with disdain as he looks at Hayun. “You stupid girl,” he spits. “I told you what would happen if you told anyone about those tapes.”

Jisung steps forward, Minho's phone buzzing in his hand. He glances down, then smirks as he holds it up for Mingi to see. “Chan just confirmed they found the tapes. Storage locker 143, right?”

Mingi’s eyes widen, panic flashing in them for the first time. He stays silent, but the fear is palpable.

“Now, get talking,” Jisung demands, his voice steady. “Hyunjin found one labelled ‘Shin R.’ Was Yuna’s sister one of your girls?”

Mingi’s smirk falters. “Yeah, Ryujin was one of mine,” he admits, his voice low, calculated. “But she wouldn’t kill her sister. There are hundreds of tapes. You’ll never find out who it was.”

Minho’s patience is running thin. He shoves Mingi harder into the chair, grabbing a fistful of his hair and yanking his head back roughly. “Start writing the names. Now.”

Mingi glares at him, defiance in his eyes, but the threat is clear. Reluctantly, he grabs the notepad and pen that Jisung shoves into his lap.

Minho looms over him, his voice dangerously low. “Get writing before I break your hand.”

As Mingi scribbles furiously, the list grows longer and longer, each name a potential threat, a puzzle piece they didn’t know they were missing. When he’s done, he drops the pen, the notepad falling to the floor.

Minho picks it up, scanning the names. “That’s a long list of people who might want Yuna dead.”

Jisung steps closer, his eyes dark with determination. “We’ll figure it out.”

Mingi leans back in the chair, a sick smile creeping onto his face. “You know,” he says, his voice low and taunting, “solving Yuna’s disappearance, getting me locked up, it won’t fix you, Hayun. You’re still broken.”

Before anyone can react, Minho slams Mingi’s head down against the table with a sickening crack. The sound of his nose breaking echoes through the room as blood begins to pour from Mingi’s face.

“You don’t talk to her,” Minho snaps, his voice filled with barely controlled rage.

Mingi gasps, his hands flying to his nose as he groans in pain, blood dripping down his face and onto the floor.

Hayun stands still, her face unreadable. She doesn’t flinch at the violence, doesn’t say a word as she watches the scene unfold. Jisung stands beside her, his fists clenched, but there’s a glint of satisfaction in his eyes.

Minho leans in close to Mingi’s ear, his voice a dangerous whisper. “You ever say her name again, and I’ll break more than your nose.”

Jisung, Minho, and Hayun turn to leave Mingi's apartment, the air in the room suffocating with the weight of everything that just happened.

Minho wraps his arm around Hayun’s shoulders, pulling her close as they walk toward the door. He presses his nose gently into her hair, inhaling the scent of her shampoo, a silent gesture meant to comfort both her and himself. He’s holding it together, but barely.

They’re almost at the door when Mingi’s voice, dripping with venom, cuts through the air like a jagged knife.

“You Lees do love the fucked-up ones, huh?” Mingi sneers, his voice strained through the pain. “Chaeryeong and Yuna, now you and Hayun. Has she fucked you yet?”

Minho’s body goes rigid, his muscles tensing beneath his shirt. He doesn’t say anything, his jaw clenching hard, but his arm tightens around Hayun protectively.

“I bet she hasn’t,” Mingi continues, laughing bitterly despite the blood dripping from his nose. “I bet you’re too afraid to ask her to be your girlfriend, too scared she’s too traumatized to say yes.”

Minho’s breath hitches, but Hayun just keeps walking, her hand tightening around his. She doesn’t look back, doesn’t give Mingi the satisfaction of a reaction. She knows better than to give him that power, but Minho’s steps falter slightly, his grip on her almost painfully tight now.

“You should thank me, Lee,” Mingi calls after them, the sound of his laughter echoing through the small, dingy apartment. “Broken girls are always freaky.”

It happens in a blur. One second Jisung is standing by the door, trying to leave, the next he’s launching himself at Mingi, tackling him out of the chair. The two of them crash to the floor in a tangle of limbs, Jisung’s fist connecting with Mingi’s face again and again.

“Fucking piece of shit!” Jisung sneers, his voice raw with fury. “Say something like that again, I fucking dare you!”

Mingi’s laughter doesn’t stop, even as blood pours from his split lip. He’s enjoying this. “Come on, hit me harder, little boy,” he taunts, even through the pain. “Bet you’d love to kill me, wouldn’t you?”

Minho and Hayun react instantly, rushing forward to grab Jisung before he does something irreversible. Hayun grabs Jisung’s arm, trying to pull him back, while Minho grabs the back of Jisung’s shirt, yanking him off of Mingi with a force that almost knocks them both over.

“Jisung, stop!” Hayun yells, her voice shaking as she holds onto him with all her strength. Mingi’s laugh cuts through the chaos, and it’s like gasoline on a fire. Jisung lunges again, but Minho wraps his arms around him from behind, holding him in place.

“Get off me!” Jisung shouts, struggling against Minho’s grip. “I’ll fucking kill him!”

Mingi sits up, wiping blood from his mouth with the back of his hand, still smirking. “You should, Jisung. You’d be doing her a favour.”

Before anyone can blink, Minho steps forward, pressing his boot down on Mingi’s throat. Mingi’s eyes go wide, and he gasps, clawing at Minho’s boot, his smirk finally vanishing as his airway is cut off.

Hayun presses her forehead against Jisung’s, brushing her nose against his, her breath mingling with his. It’s the only thing keeping him grounded.

“Look at me,” Hayun whispers, her voice trembling slightly. “I’m okay, Jisung. I swear, I’m okay. Minho’s got it under control.”

Jisung closes his eyes, his chest heaving as he tries to calm down, his fists still shaking with adrenaline. “I would’ve killed him, Yunnie.”

“I know,” she whispers, her voice soothing. “But Minho’s handling it now. Just breathe.”

Meanwhile, Minho presses his boot harder into Mingi’s throat, his face eerily calm. “There’s not going to be a place on this earth you can hide,” Minho says, his voice low and terrifying. “I will hunt you to the ends of the earth if you try to run. Do you hear me?”

Mingi glares up at him, his face turning red as he struggles for air, but he doesn’t answer.

“Do. You. Hear. Me?” Minho’s voice is ice, and he presses down even harder.

Mingi claws at Minho’s boot desperately, choking out a strained, barely audible, “Yes!”

Minho steps back, releasing the pressure on Mingi’s throat, and Mingi gasps for breath, coughing and sputtering on the floor.

Hayun gently pulls Jisung toward the door, her fingers still trembling as she leads him outside. The moment they step into the cool night air, the tension in her body releases slightly. They sit down on the curb together, both of them catching their breath.

Jisung leans forward, burying his face in his hands. “I’d have killed him,” he mutters, his voice muffled by his hands.

“I know,” Hayun says softly, her voice steady even though her heart is still racing. “And I think if Minho hadn’t been there... I wouldn’t have stopped you.”

Jisung lifts his head, his eyes red and filled with anger. “Why are we even trying to get justice for Yuna anymore? She was a piece of shit.”

Hayun sighs, leaning back against the curb as she stares up at the dark sky. “It’s not really about Yuna anymore,” she admits, her voice quiet. “It’s about figuring out who killed Chaeryeong. For Minho. He needs to know who killed his sister, who framed her for Yuna’s murder, who faked her suicide. He needs to know all of it.”

Jisung’s hands tighten into fists again, though this time, the rage is different. It’s quieter, more controlled. “You’re right. This isn’t about Yuna. Fuck her. But Minho, he needs this.”

Hayun nods, her gaze distant as she watches the headlights of a passing car reflect off the wet pavement. “We all need this, Ji. We need to put this shit to rest, or it’ll kill us.”

Jisung takes a deep breath, his voice calmer now. “And what about you? Do you need this too?”

Hayun’s eyes meet his, and for a moment, she doesn’t know what to say. But then she nods, her voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah. I need this. I need to know it wasn’t all for nothing.”

They sit there in silence for a long moment, the weight of everything hanging between them. Finally, Jisung reaches over, grabbing her hand and squeezing it tightly. “We’ll figure it out. Together.”

Hayun squeezes his hand back, a small, tired smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah. Together.”

Inside the apartment, Minho crouches down next to Mingi, his eyes dark with a cold fury that’s barely restrained. He grips Mingi’s chin tightly, forcing the man to meet his gaze, his voice low and dripping with malice.

“You ever—" Minho’s breath comes out in a controlled whisper, though every word cuts like a knife, "and I mean ever, so much as look at Hayun again, and I’ll kill you. And trust me, I’ve got an army of people who’d help me get away with it. You understand?"

Mingi wheezes, his eyes narrowing in a sick grin as he gasps for air. His voice is raspy but filled with cruel satisfaction. "She’ll never love you like a normal girl, you know that, right?"

Minho’s grip tightens on Mingi’s face, his fingers digging into the man’s skin, but his expression remains icy and composed. "So?" Minho scoffs, the corners of his lips twitching upward into a dangerous smirk. "You think just because you raped her, she can’t love someone? You’re fucking wrong." His voice hardens, his words like venom. "She kept your secret for years because she loved Jisung so much she didn’t want him to hate his sister."

Mingi’s eyes glint with malice, the grin never leaving his face. "What if she never tells you she loves you?" he rasps, his voice dripping with condescension.

Minho leans in closer, their faces inches apart, his voice calm but filled with a dark certainty. "She doesn’t need to tell me shit. Her eyes… her eyes are the windows to her soul, and I know she feels for me what I feel for her. She doesn’t need to say the words for me to know. You don’t understand that kind of connection because you’ve never had it."

Mingi’s laugh is weak, but he keeps pushing. "And yet… she’s not your girlfriend." His grin widens, though it’s shaky, testing Minho’s limits.

Minho’s smile is thin, more like a baring of teeth, as he releases Mingi’s chin and stands up, towering over him. "That’s because I want to do it properly, Mingi. I’m not a disgusting piece of shit like you. I don’t want to rush her. I don’t want to destroy her life" Minho’s voice grows colder, more dangerous, as he looks down at Mingi like he’s nothing more than a roach beneath his boot.

"You didn’t break her, Mingi. You made her your downfall. You made her build a mask so indestructible that even you couldn’t break it. And now she is the reason your end is coming. You made her your downfall"

Mingi’s grin falters, the first sign of real fear flashing across his face, but he tries to hold onto his arrogance. "I always come out on top," he sneers, though his voice is weaker now.

Minho chuckles darkly, a sound that sends a chill through the air. "In prison?" he says, his eyes gleaming with a twisted satisfaction. "You’ll be a bottom, Mingi. You’ll get a taste of what you did to all those girls. But here’s the thing, you won’t be drugged up. You’ll remember every detail. Every second of it. You’ll know exactly what you put hundreds of girls through." Minho leans down again, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper. "I’ll make sure the men in whatever prison you end up in know what you did. You know what they do to monsters like you in there, don’t you? Maybe they’ll even tape it."

Mingi stares at Minho, real fear finally settling in his eyes. His breath comes out in shallow gasps, and he doesn’t have anything clever to say this time. He knows Minho’s serious.

Minho’s grin spreads, a flash of something almost unhinged in his eyes. "Now you’re scared, huh?" he taunts, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "Good. I want you to remember something when you’re rotting in your cell, getting what’s coming to you every single day. Your youngest victim, that child, grew up. And she’s the reason you’re going to prison. Hayun put you in there. She orchestrated all of this, Mingi. She’s the reason our friends raided your storage locker, and the cops are on their way right now."

Mingi's face pales as he realizes the gravity of his situation. The smug confidence he’d carried all this time begins to crack, replaced by something that looks a lot like terror.

Minho doesn’t stop. He’s enjoying watching Mingi’s world collapse around him. "When you’re sitting in your four-by-four cell, being someone’s bitch, I want you to think about that. Think about how Hayun, your youngest victim, became the one who orchestrated your downfall. It’s fucking karmic, isn’t it?"

He taps the small camera button on his shirt, the one recording everything. "Smile for the camera, Mingi," Minho says, his voice sharp with satisfaction. "You’re going to be famous and then you’re going to be someone’s bitch. And this time, no one’s coming to save you."

Mingi glares up at Minho, but he’s trembling now. The bravado is gone, replaced by the crushing realization that his time is up.

Minho straightens up, casting one last look of disgust down at Mingi before turning and walking toward the door. He doesn’t say another word as he steps out of the apartment, leaving Mingi gasping for breath on the floor.

Minho steps out of the apartment, the weight of everything that just happened pressing on his chest, but when his eyes land on Hayun sitting on the curb, everything else fades away. Without a second thought, he strides toward her, grabbing her hand and pulling her up into his arms. He wraps her tightly against him, his forehead pressing against hers. The familiar warmth of her skin grounds him, calms the storm still raging inside his head.

Jisung, standing a few feet away, immediately averts his gaze, giving them space. He doesn’t say anything, just shoves his hands in his pockets and stares at the ground, letting them have this moment.

Minho’s voice comes out soft, gentle, but there’s a fierceness in his words. “He’s done, princess. He can’t hurt you anymore, okay? The police will handle everything now, and he’ll rot in prison. He’ll fucking suffer.”

Hayun closes her eyes for a moment, letting his words sink in, her breath steadying in his arms. “Good,” she whispers, her voice quiet but resolute. “He deserves to suffer.”

Minho pulls back just enough to look into her eyes, his hand coming up to cup the side of her face. “Now, we figure out who killed Yuna,” he says, his voice firmer, more determined. “And who killed my sister. We’re not stopping until we get answers.”

Hayun nods, her eyes meeting his with a fierce determination of her own. “We won’t stop,” she agrees softly. “Not until we know everything.”

Jisung steps forward then, shaking off the heaviness that’s been clinging to the night. He claps Minho on the shoulder, his voice a little lighter now, though still laced with exhaustion. “But right now,” he says, a hint of a grin tugging at his lips, “we celebrate a fucking win, okay? We’ve not had many of those, and this one? This one’s a big fucking deal.”

Minho chuckles softly, his arm still wrapped around Hayun, pulling her in closer. “Yeah,” he agrees. “We fucking earned this one.”

Hayun glances between the two of them, her lips twitching into a small smile. “You guys celebrate,” she says, stepping back slightly, her tone suddenly more thoughtful. “I’ll meet up with you later, okay? There’s… there’s someone I need to see.”

Minho raises an eyebrow, concern flickering across his face. “Who?” he asks, his voice low but cautious.

“I’ll tell you later,” Hayun replies, her tone gentle but firm. “I just… I need to do this on my own.”

Jisung narrows his eyes but nods after a moment. “Alright,” he says, though his voice is tinged with curiosity. “Just be careful, Yunnie.”

Hayun gives him a small nod, then turns back to Minho, meeting his gaze. He studies her for a long moment, searching her face for any sign of hesitation, but he doesn’t find any. Finally, he nods as well.

“Call us if you need anything,” Minho says quietly. “We’ve got your back, no matter what.”

Hayun smiles, a little more genuine this time, and reaches out to squeeze his hand. “I know,” she says softly. “I always know.”

With that, she steps back, turning away from the curb as she heads off down the street, her mind already turning toward her next move. Minho watches her go, his heart tight in his chest, but he doesn’t stop her. He knows she needs this, whatever it is, just as much as they needed the victory tonight.

Jisung steps closer to Minho once Hayun disappears from sight, letting out a long breath. “You think she’s okay?” he asks, his voice quieter now, laced with worry.

Minho glances down the street where Hayun had just been, his jaw clenched. “She will be,” he says, though he sounds like he’s trying to convince himself more than anyone. “She’s stronger than any of us give her credit for.”

Jisung nods slowly, but there’s still a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. “I just hope she’s not walking into something we can’t help her with.”

Minho doesn’t respond right away. Instead, he takes a deep breath, letting the cool night air fill his lungs before he speaks again. “Whatever it is,” he says softly, “she’ll tell us when she’s ready. And when she does, we’ll be there.”

Jisung gives him a tight-lipped smile, his usual playful demeanor gone, replaced by something more serious, more resolute. “Yeah,” he agrees quietly. “We always will be.”

The two of them stand there for a moment longer, the weight of the night still heavy on their shoulders, but beneath it all, there’s a sense of something else. Hope, maybe. A small victory in a war that’s far from over.

Taglist: @hityoulikebahng @drewsandsebastianswife @fackeraccount @lily-loves-kpop @stilldontknowhoiam

@ziggy1221 @justaspoonofjam @tr-mha-fan @candycurshidkwhatthehell

@heeseungspookie @smigcrazy

[sl-vega]

ᯓ★ STICKING TO THE SCRIPT 

pairing: [AUTHOR!] Xingqiu x [ACTRESS!] Reader 

genre: strangers to lovers, fake dating, fluff, slowburn, angst (?), celebrity au, modern au, social media au 

╰┈➤ synopsis: dubbed as the "rising star of the film industry" your career has been on an all time high, recently landing the leading role in a major motion picture, and rumours of your long time boyfriend finally proposing. Of course, all of that goes down hill the second pictures of him seeing another woman come to light. Next thing you know your management team is scrambling to recover from the mess, and to bring the focus back to your next film rather than the current tragedy. Meanwhile, a certain Xingqiu has a deadline approaching for his next upcoming book where the two leads finally tie the knot, only problem is that he has no romantic experience. Since your two situations perfectly fit each other, both of your teams decide to pull a PR stunt to have you two become the next big couple, allowing Xingqiu to get his research in and having you get away from your ex's latest scandal (and maybe even make him jealous?). All you need to do is stick to the script!

content warnings/tags: mild swearing, profanities, time stamps don't matter unless stated otherwise, fem! reader, photos used to represent the reader are meant for the pose and are not meant to represent the readers physical appearance, revamped version of sticking to the script

ᯓ★ STARRING:

full-time theatre kids // books > movies

LIGHTS, CAMERA, ACTION!

PROLOGUE-00; infidelity's solitude

ACT ONE-there's no business like show business!

01-#viral!

02-bad publicity is still publicity

03-overworked and underpaid

04-pr stunt but I don't got a double

05-it's giving wattpad

(MORE TBA)

ACT TWO-operation:true love!

(TBA)

ACT THREE-to the only boy i've ever loved

(TBA)

(OPEN) Taglist: @freyao7, @thatoneswordgirl, @sn1perz, @latay7, @nmriki0, @help-whatdoimakemyusername, @httpsrenren, @cupid-spams, @aixaingela, @kaitfae, @luvkvni, @danhenglovebot, @lalaloveallmydays, @agaygothicmushroom, @kunimylovee, @seafumes, @waffledforbreakfast, @bellflower1257, @blvdmrcnry, @state-of-grac3, @princess-peachys, @haruumei, @ilxandra, @overratedcxrl

[maxcaulfielddidnothingwrong]

Part two because I could yap about this forever. We don’t talk about the storm because it’s null and void here because I said so. 974 words.

𐂂 Obviously Joyce and David are understanding about Chloe wanting to stay at Rachel’s all the time, but after a month or so they request she stay at home at least sometimes.

𐂂 Max needed to be at the dorms more often for school. She was given time off because of the situation and the everyday hero’s contest, but when she goes back she finds it easier to stay in the dorms.

𐂂 Chloe is offered to come back to Blackwell on scholarship, and she accepts thinking about her future. She also gets a dorm.

𐂂 The three of them rotate staying at each other’s places for ease. It’s still usually at Rachel’s, but sometimes it’s the dorms or Chloe’s house.

𐂂 Once they actually talk about the awkwardness of the relationship they just decide to leave it unlabeled. Max and Rachel still haven’t quite hit it off and progression is slow, but Chloe cares/loves both of them very deeply.

𐂂 Chloe actually decides to give a shit about her work and usually keeps up with it to some extent. Chloe is very smart, she just doesn’t have the work drive. Max encourages her to do her work. Rachel doesn’t actively discourage Chloe to do her work, but she’s not exactly telling Chloe to do it.

𐂂 Rachel also goes back to Blackwell. She gets good grades just like before, but she’s cut a lot more slack by teachers and her parents which she uses to the full extent.

𐂂 Chloe and Rachel will hang out with Justin and other people they used to hang out with sometimes and Max will just tag along. (In my mind the three of them practically go everywhere with each other, though it does get better after time.) Max isn’t the most talkative during these times because she is sort of friends with these people but not in the way Rachel and Chloe are.

𐂂 Max and Chloe do eventually tell Rachel about Max’s powers, and Rachel takes it very similar to the way Chloe did originally. Max definitely doesn’t use them as much though.

𐂂 Similar to hanging out with Rachel and Chloe’s old friends, when they smoke Max sits it out and just tinkers with her camera, or surfs the web.

𐂂 if you thought Max took a lot of pictures before, it’s nothing compared to how many Max takes now. She captured practically every moment just in case she’ll need a photo to go back. She also has her photos organized quite well in manila folders by subject and place. On the back of each photo is the date and time stamp as well.

𐂂 Rachel and Max don’t get along very easily. It takes a while for them to hit it off and actually become close. Rachel is more passive aggressive than Max at tense times and Max is the kind of person to make slightly sassy remarks or just roll her eyes.

𐂂 Chloe can get very awkward when it’s the three of them. Not as awkward as she could be in the before the storm, but not as confident as in life is strange. She can be very vulnerable around Max and Rachel. Max isn’t the most vulnerable but can be around Chloe and Rachel. Rachel refuses to be vulnerable around Max and is rarely vulnerable with Chloe.

𐂂 When Rachel found out that Chloe let Max wear her clothes she definitely scoffed and was annoyed for a while making snide remarks to max once or twice that Max might as well take clothes from her closet. Even though Rachel has no issue sharing clothes in reality.

𐂂 Rachel never had the best view of Max because she saw how much hurt Chloe felt because Max was gone. Though, she was very grateful for Max’s help in finding her, she’d never admit it besides the initial thanks.

𐂂 Max felt slightly jealous of Rachel before she was found because she felt she took her place. Though she wasn’t exactly upset or angry because she is the one who left. She makes sure not to let it carry on into the present, but very rarely she’ll see Rachel and Chloe using some inside joke and feel that jealousy again.

𐂂 Max listens to EVERYTHING. Rachel didn’t think Max would listen to the stuff her and Chloe do, but once she learned that Max did, that’s kind of when they started to get along more.

𐂂 When asked about their relationship, Chloe will tease people like ‘wouldn’t you like to know’. Rachel would be overly mysterious about it, but not in a secretive way. Max would just shrug and say it’s complicated.

𐂂 Even though it upset Chloe a lot that Rachel had any relationship with Frank behind her back and posed for photos and such, she hesitated to bring it up because she was just glad to have Rachel back. Max encouraged her to talk to Rachel alone if it bothered her that much and that Max was there for her no matter her decision.

𐂂 Their clothes are strewn across Max and Chloe’s dorm, Rachel’s house, and Chloe’s house. Max would ask, “Have you seen my Jane doe shirt?” And Chloe would respond with a shrug. “I dunno. Check Rachel’s house next time we’re all over.” Rachel would pipe up as well, “I think I saw it in my room, it’s probably made its way under the bed.” It probably wouldn’t be a week until it was actually retrieved.

𐂂 Chloe would definitely very casually kiss both Max and Rachel on the cheek or a quick peck on the lips. Rachel would do the same with Chloe. When it comes to actual kissing Chloe refuses to do it with the other as an audience. At first. Eventually it just becomes a regular thing.

𐂂 The three of them very easily exist in each other’s space and regular boundaries definitely fly out the window.

Don’t know if I’ll do more of these specially but if they randomly come to me then I probably will. I love them they’re so silly :(

[keirareidss]

going through spencer's photo album once the vacation is over

"Oh! Look at that one!" You grinned, pointing to the one labeled "Family campfire' a picture Spencer took sometime on Thursday. Spencer smiled, the photo album sitting on his lap, he on the couch and you cuddled into his side, reliving your vacation. "I'm so glad you brought your camera, these are amazing." You said, chuckling at yet another picture Derek had taken of himself when he stole Spencer's camera.

"There's a lot of birds in here." You observed and Spencer blushed slightly.

"There were a lot of birds at the lake house." He mumbled and you grinned, pressing a kiss to his heated cheek. You quickly stamped another one to the corner of his mouth before turning back to the photo album, flipping past another photo of a loon.

"When was this?" You asked, pointing to the photo of Hotch driving the boat.

"You weren't there. That was when you stayed back with JJ when she was hungover."

"Aw. I can't believe I missed that." You pouted and Spencer chuckled, his thumb finding your bottom lip, gently pulling on it. You nipped at his finger playfully and he pulled it back, grinning. You turned back to the album.

"Why aren't there any of me?" You asked, feeling slightly hurt that Spencer had photographed and documented everything on the trip except for you.

"Oh, uh..." He flipped to the last couple pages of the book where he placed a divider labeled with your name. You flipped past the divider, seeing the first two pages filled with pictures of you. You on the boat, you in the living room, staring at Emily as she told a story,a small unconscious smile on your face, you in a small shop, looking at a sticker, you in your bathing suit, coming out of the lake, dripping water droplets onto the ground. Endless pictures of you filled the end of the book.

"Spencer..." You began, your voice soft.

"You hate it. I'm sorry, this is creepy, I shouldn't have-"

"No! No, I love it. I love you. I love you." You said firmly, kissing his lips. "It's perfect."

"Really?" He asked quietly.

"Yes, really." You smiled, pulling the album back, resting your head on his shoulder as you flipped back to where you were, continuing your exploration of his documentation of the vacation. Your eyes caught on something in the photo book. A picture of you, laying on the bed you shared at the lake house, your upper half bare as you lazily held up a book. "Wait, when did you take that one?" He slides the photo labeled 'sleepy girl :)' out of the sleeve, flipping it over to find the date. Thursday.

"You just looked so pretty I had to take a picture."

"Aw honey." You cooked, wrapping your arms around his neck as his face flushed red again.

"Don't." He whined as you crawled on top of him, bombarding him with kisses. The love you felt for him made your tummy flutter and your lips quirk into a smile. He giggled boyishly as you kissed him, his arms wrapping around your waist. "Okay, okay!" He laughed and you stopped, sitting up on his lap. You looked down at the man below you and saw nothing but love in his eyes. You returned his smile, both of you relishing in the moment, as if you existed on a different plane of existence, one where time didn't matter and you had no obligations to do anything other than this.

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