#How to send broadcast messages

[thebotmode]

WhatsApp Broadcasting Using WhatsApp Business API for D2C Brands | The BotMode

In today’s fast-moving digital era, WhatsApp Broadcasting using WhatsApp Business API has become a must-have strategy for D2C brands. Direct, instant communication drives better customer engagement, higher conversions, and stronger loyalty.

Whether you’re sending promotional offers, abandoned cart notifications, or important updates, WhatsApp broadcasting transforms how your D2C business connects with customers — fast and at scale.

Send WhatsApp Message to Multiple Contacts with Broadcast Easily

If you’re a D2C brand aiming for growth, the ability to send WhatsApp messages to multiple contacts with broadcast is crucial.

Using the WhatsApp Business API, you can:

Personalize every message for better engagement

Automate your broadcast campaigns

Track delivery, open rates, and customer interactions

Scale up to thousands of messages — without manual efforts

Compared to basic broadcast lists, API-powered WhatsApp marketing delivers smarter, scalable, and measurable customer communication.

How WhatsApp Business API Supercharges Your Broadcast Strategy

The WhatsApp Business API is designed specifically for businesses like D2C brands that require large-scale, automated customer engagement. Here’s how it boosts your broadcasting power:

Verified Business Profile: Build trust and authenticity.

Pre-approved Template Messages: Faster approvals and consistency.

Automation & Chatbots: Manage replies and lead nurturing effortlessly.

Security & Compliance: Ensure customer data is safe with end-to-end encryption.

Using WhatsApp Business API, D2C brands can launch highly personalized, efficient, and compliant WhatsApp campaigns across their customer base.

WhatsApp Broadcast List vs. WhatsApp Business API: What’s Right for Your D2C Brand?

Many small businesses use the basic WhatsApp Broadcast list feature within the WhatsApp Business App. However, it comes with critical limitations:

Messages only reach customers who saved your number.

Maximum 256 contacts per broadcast list.

No automation, segmentation, or deep analytics.

In contrast, sending WhatsApp Broadcast through WhatsApp Business App is no longer enough for growing D2C brands.

With the WhatsApp Business API, you can:

Send thousands of personalized messages without number-saving limitations.

Automate customer journeys.

Track performance and optimize every campaign.

For serious WhatsApp marketing for D2C brands, the API is the clear winner.

Boost Conversions with Automated Abandoned Cart Notifications

One of the highest-ROI strategies in WhatsApp broadcasting is sending abandoned cart notifications.

Using WhatsApp automation for D2C brands, you can automatically send:

Friendly reminders

Personalized discount offers

Free shipping deals

These messages can recover up to 30% more abandoned carts compared to email or SMS reminders — because WhatsApp has a 90%+ open rate within minutes!

Imagine a customer adding products to their cart and receiving a personalized WhatsApp nudge 20 minutes later. That’s real-time sales recovery at work.

Why Leading D2C Brands Trust TheBotMode for WhatsApp Broadcasting

At TheBotMode, we help D2C brands unlock the full power of WhatsApp Broadcasting using WhatsApp Business API.

With TheBotMode, you can:

Send WhatsApp messages to multiple contacts seamlessly.

Recover abandoned carts with personalized, automated flows.

Launch smart WhatsApp campaigns that nurture, convert, and delight.

Automate WhatsApp marketing, sales, and support operations.

Stay fully compliant with WhatsApp’s policies and Meta regulations.

Our platform simplifies everything — from onboarding to broadcasting — so your team can focus on growing faster.

How to Send WhatsApp Broadcasts Using WhatsApp Business API for D2C Brands

Getting started with WhatsApp broadcasting is easy with TheBotMode:

Set up your WhatsApp Business API account through TheBotMode’s quick onboarding.

Get your message templates approved for promotions, cart recovery, and updates.

Upload your customer list and segment based on behavior.

Create personalized broadcast campaigns using dynamic fields.

Schedule and automate your campaigns for maximum engagement.

With TheBotMode, your brand is always a message away from a customer — driving real-time results.

Final Thoughts

In 2025 and beyond, WhatsApp Broadcasting using WhatsApp Business API will define customer engagement for D2C brands.

Whether you’re aiming to send WhatsApp messages to multiple contacts with broadcast, recover abandoned carts, or run high-converting WhatsApp campaigns for D2C businesses, TheBotMode is your go-to platform.

FAQs

1. What is WhatsApp Broadcasting using WhatsApp Business API?WhatsApp Broadcasting using WhatsApp Business API lets D2C brands send personalized messages to thousands of contacts, automate campaigns, and drive customer engagement easily.

2. Can I send WhatsApp messages to multiple contacts with broadcast?Yes! With WhatsApp Business API, D2C brands can send personalized broadcasts to thousands of customers, even if they haven’t saved your number.

3. What’s the difference between a WhatsApp Broadcast List and WhatsApp Business API?A WhatsApp Broadcast List in the Business App is limited in size and functionality. WhatsApp Business API offers automation, large-scale messaging, analytics, and personalization — ideal for growing D2C businesses.

4. How can D2C brands use abandoned cart notifications via WhatsApp?Automated abandoned cart notifications help D2C brands recover lost sales by reminding customers about their incomplete purchases, often with special offers, leading to a 20–30% boost in recovered revenue.

5. How does TheBotMode help with WhatsApp Broadcasting? TheBotMode simplifies WhatsApp broadcasting by setting up Business API access, automating cart recovery flows, sending bulk messages to contacts, and managing WhatsApp marketing campaigns — helping D2C brands scale faster.

know more> https://thebotmode.com/whatsapp-broadcasting-using-whatsapp-business-api-for-d2c-brands/

[peppered-ronis]

my review of the doctor who episode is that it is really great at jangling keys to distract you from the fact that it's a kerblamlike

[tod--waggner]

pacing around my room . ive always stayed a step ahead but you were with me the whole way

[satellite-evans]

all I need

Pairing: Lando Norris x driver!reader

Summary: Lando gets furiuos when you get fined for swearing after your crash.

Word count: 2.9k+

Warnings: fluff, swearing, injuries, angry lando

Request : Hi could I please request a lando x reader fic where the reader is a driver and she gets in a big crash and the team radio is like asking if she is okay and shes like answers after a bit and is in pain because she just CRASHED and then she accidentally swears on radio and she gets fined and the media is going crazy and like lando is just being a good protective boyfriend and is defending her in interviews and stuff? Thanks!! xoxo - anon 🍟

A/N:

Hi love, thank you so much for sending in a request and trusting me enough to write your idea!! I hope I did it justice xxx

English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, talks, vents, recommendations or just simple questions are always welcome.

Happy reading xxx

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.

One moment, everything is fine—you’re fighting for position, pushing the car to its absolute limit, heart pounding with adrenaline as you navigate the treacherous corners. The next, it all goes horribly wrong.

The rear tires lose grip. A sharp twitch, then a full spin. Time slows, but your mind races. Your hands react on instinct, desperately trying to correct, but it’s too late. The world outside the cockpit blurs in a sickening whirl of colors—track, barriers, sky. Then nothing but gut-wrenching weightlessness as the car lifts off the ground.

The impact is catastrophic. Metal shrieks against metal, carbon fiber shatters like glass. The force slams through your body, rattling bones, squeezing air from your lungs. Pain flares—sharp, immediate—radiating from your ribs, your shoulders, your skull as the cockpit jolts to a brutal stop. Static crackles in your helmet.

For a moment, everything is eerily still. Your pulse roars in your ears, drowning out the stunned gasps from the crowd, the commentary scrambling to make sense of what just happened. Your breath is ragged, shallow. The world tilts nauseatingly around you.

Then, the radio buzzes to life.

"Y/N, Y/N, are you okay?!" David's voice is urgent, bordering on frantic. There’s a tightness to it you’ve never heard before, and that alone terrifies you more than the crash itself.

You try to respond, but pain flares when you shift. A groan escapes before you can stop it. Your fingers fumble for the radio button, and when you finally manage to press it, your voice comes out weak, breathless.

"Fuck—yeah, I think so." A cough, a wince. "That hurt."

Across the track, in his car, Lando watches it all unfold in real-time. His stomach drops, breath catching as he sees your car crumple against the barriers. His knuckles go white around the steering wheel, heart hammering painfully against his ribs. The images flash across the big screens, slow-motion replays dissecting the crash from every angle. He can’t tear his eyes away.

Is she okay? Is she responding?!" His voice is laced with panic, the desperation evident.

His race engineer hesitates. "We're waiting on confirmation, Lando. Focus on the race."

But how the hell is he supposed to do that? The car, the track, the championship—all of it fades. Right now, none of it matters except you.

His grip on the steering wheel tightens. "Please—can you keep me updated? I need to know if she's okay." His voice wavers just slightly, the emotion threatening to spill over.

A pause. Then, softer, "We will, Lando. Just focus for now."

He exhales sharply, forcing himself to keep driving, but his eyes keep flicking to the screens around the circuit, searching for any sign of movement from you. His heart pounds as he waits—praying to hear your voice again.

A beat of silence stretches after your message. Then, Race Control’s voice cuts through.

"Y/N, reminder that all radio transmissions are broadcasted live. Watch the language."

Despite everything, a strained, breathy laugh escapes you. "Yeah, yeah, noted. Ow."

The medical car is already pulling up, orange lights flashing, marshals swarming the wreckage. You can hear them shouting, their voices urgent but professional. Someone taps on the side of your cockpit, checking for a response. Your fingers twitch, slow and uncoordinated, but you give them a thumbs-up.

The crowd, stunned into silence, exhales as one. The commentators try to fill the dead air with reassurances, but the tension is thick. On social media, the crash is already going viral—clips looping endlessly, speculation running rampant.

The straps of your harness dig into your bruised shoulders as the adrenaline begins to wear off, replaced by a dull, spreading ache that makes every breath feel like a struggle. The world around you is a cacophony of noise—sirens wailing, the frantic chatter of the marshals, the dull roar of the crowd beyond the barriers—but it all feels distant, muffled by the ringing in your ears.

"Try not to move too much," one of the medical staff instructs gently, his gloved hands already working to unbuckle you from the mangled remains of your car. "Can you feel everything?"

You give a small, shaky nod. "Yeah," you breathe, wincing as you shift slightly. "Just sore. Really sore."

The relief on his face is immediate, but the tension in the air remains. They move carefully, extracting you from the cockpit as gingerly as possible. As soon as you're free, your knees threaten to buckle, but strong arms catch you before you hit the ground.

"You’re alright, we’ve got you," another voice reassures, steadying you as they guide you toward the waiting medical car. The flash of cameras in the distance, the low hum of anxious murmurs from the pit lane—it all feels surreal.

The moment the checkered flag waves, Lando doesn’t care about anything else. Not the debrief, not the podium celebrations—none of it matters. His car screeches to a halt in parc fermé, barely lined up properly, but he’s already halfway out before the engine even fully shuts down. His hands rip off his steering wheel, then his helmet, tossing it aside as he breaks into a full sprint toward the medical center.

His lungs burn, but he doesn’t slow down. The only thing driving him forward is the sheer panic gripping his chest. His mind replays the crash on an agonizing loop—the way your car crumpled, how long it took for you to respond, the thought of losing you was eating him alive. He pushes past team personnel, ignoring their calls, shoving the medical center doors open with enough force to make them slam against the walls.

"Where is she?" His voice is sharp, almost desperate.

A nurse barely has time to react before he spots you. Sitting on the edge of the examination bed, bruised and battered, your race suit scuffed with streaks of dirt and dried blood. Your arm is wrapped around your ribs, and there’s a gash just below your glove, crimson seeping through the fabric. Your right knee is swollen, and every inhale looks like it stings.

But you’re alive.

Lando exhales a shuddering breath, his entire body sagging with relief. He crosses the room in seconds, reaching you like you might disappear if he doesn’t move fast enough. Without hesitation, he takes your hand, gripping it tightly like an anchor. His fingers ghost over your bruised knuckles, his touch impossibly gentle.

"Jesus, Y/N…" His voice is hoarse, cracking under the weight of the fear still clinging to him.

You manage a small, tired smile despite the pain. "I’m fine. Trust me, it’s not as bad as it looks."

His jaw clenches, eyes scanning you like he doesn’t quite believe you. "Not as bad as it looks? You scared the hell out of me. Don’t do that again. Ever."

The intensity of his words makes your chest tighten—not just from the bruises, but from the raw emotion behind them. You squeeze his hand, grounding him.

Later, after the doctors clear you—bruised ribs, mild concussion, but nothing broken—you limp out of the medical center, Lando’s arm wrapped protectively around your waist. Every step sends a dull ache through your body, but at least you’re standing.

David intercepts you, shifting awkwardly on his feet. "So, uh… don’t shoot the messenger, but you’re getting a fine for the team radio."

You blink. "You’re kidding, right?"

Before David can even answer, Lando scoffs, disbelief flashing across his face. "She just survived a high-speed crash, and they’re fining her for swearing? Seriously?"

David sighs, handing over the paperwork with an apologetic shrug. "Yeah… FIA wasn’t too happy. Regulations and all."

You stare at the notice for a beat before letting out a tired, incredulous laugh. "Yeah, okay. Next time I crash at 200 mph, I’ll be sure to say ‘gosh darn it’ instead."

Lando shakes his head, jaw tight with frustration. "Unbelievable."

But instead of dwelling on it, he just pulls you in closer, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. The warmth of his embrace eases some of the lingering tension in your body. "Don’t worry about it, love. If they want to fine you for being human, let them. You’re still the toughest person I know."

You smile, leaning into him, exhaustion settling deep in your bones. Because at the end of the day, a fine means nothing when you still have Lando by your side.

And, as expected, the media goes absolutely wild.

"Formula 1 Driver Y/N Y/L/N Fined After Shocking Radio Message Post-Crash!"

"Did Y/N Deserve Her FIA Penalty? Fans Debate Over Radio Outburst!"

"Y/N’s Crash Sparks Controversy: Was the Fine Justified?"

The headlines flood every social platform within minutes. Slow-motion replays of the crash loop endlessly on TV screens, side-by-side with grainy images of you wincing as you climbed out of the wreckage. Every angle is analyzed, every expression dissected.

Your post-race hospital visit is barely over when reporters start circling like vultures, bombarding you with questions before you even have the strength to face them, but Lando was having none of it.

Seated in front of the media, still in his race suit, Lando’s jaw is tight, hands clenched on the table as microphones are shoved toward him.

"Lando, there's been a lot of discussion about Y/N’s penalty for language over the team radio. Do you think the FIA was justified in issuing the fine?"

He scoffs, jaw tightening. "Are we seriously focusing on a fine when she just survived a massive crash?" His voice is sharp, edged with barely restrained anger. "She was in pain. She was shaken up. And she swore—who wouldn’t? It's ridiculous."

The journalists shift uncomfortably, but another one presses on. "Rules are rules, though. FIA has strict guidelines about profanity on public transmissions. Do you think it sets a bad precedent if they don’t enforce them?"

Lando lets out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. "Mate, if your first thought after seeing a crash like that is to talk about a penalty, maybe rethink your priorities."

Another journalist jumps in. "But don’t you think it’s important to maintain professionalism on the radio? A lot of young fans look up to drivers."

Lando rolls his eyes. "Right, because what’s really damaging to young fans isn’t the fact that someone just had a life-threatening accident, but the fact that she said ‘fuck’ while trying to breathe properly again." He leans forward, voice lower but no less cutting. "If we’re talking role models, maybe start by making sure the sport actually supports its drivers instead of fining them for reacting like a human being."

His words are already making waves, clips spreading across social media.

And while you’re still exhausted, still aching from the crash, there’s something about seeing him so openly, fiercely in your corner that makes your heart ache in the best way.

Even after the official interviews, the media frenzy doesn’t stop. Paparazzi crowd outside the paddock, desperate for a statement. Team members act as buffers, but there’s only so much they can do.

As you slowly make your way out of the motorhome, Lando’s arm firmly around your waist, cameras flash, voices overlapping as reporters shout over each other.

"Y/N, do you think the FIA’s decision was fair?"

"Do you regret your words on the radio?"

"Lando, how did it feel watching the crash happen live?"

He tenses beside you. "How do you think it felt?" His voice is sharp, protective. "I watched someone I love crash at full speed. So no, I don’t really give a damn about some radio penalty right now."

You squeeze his hand in silent gratitude. He doesn’t have to be this involved, but he is. Always.

Another journalist turns to you, voice softer but no less intrusive. "Y/N, how are you feeling after the accident?"

You exhale, trying to keep your expression neutral despite the lingering pain. "Sore, obviously. But I’m okay."

"Will you be racing in the next Grand Prix?"

Lando answers before you can. "She’s focusing on recovery first. That’s the priority."

It’s not a direct confirmation, but it’s enough to hold off the speculation—at least for now.

The chaos of the day finally starts to feel like a distant memory as you curl up on the couch in Lando’s apartment. An ice pack rests gently on your ribs, offering some comfort against the bruising, but it’s Lando’s presence that truly calms you. His arm drapes protectively around you, pulling you in close like he never wants to let go, his warmth surrounding you in a way that makes you feel safe. His thumb moves in slow, soothing circles on your arm, the rhythm gentle and steady.

It’s such a contrast to the frantic energy of the day—the flashing cameras, the endless questions, the tension in the air—but now, in this moment, all of that feels like it belongs to another world. This is where you’re grounded.

You sigh, resting your head against his shoulder, letting the quietness of the room wrap around you like a soft blanket. But there’s something still heavy in the pit of your stomach, a lingering feeling that something was unsettled. You tilt your head up to look at him, your eyes tracing the faint lines of worry still etched across his face, the tension that’s only now starting to ease from his features.

"You didn’t have to go that hard for me," you murmur, your voice soft, though you know the words don’t quite do justice to what you’re feeling. You had been overwhelmed by everything that happened, but he—he had been beside you every step of the way, his every move showing how deeply he cared.

He scoffs, shaking his head slowly like the idea is completely foreign to him. "Of course I did. It’s bullshit," he mutters, his voice laced with frustration that hasn’t quite gone away. "You should be getting support, not fined for a stupid word." The words come out with a little more heat than he intends, but it’s the underlying softness in his voice, the way he’s speaking to you like he wants to protect you from the world’s unfairness, that makes your heart flutter.

You chuckle softly, a tired sound that makes his grip on you tighten just a fraction, like he’s afraid you might slip away. "Guess I owe you, huh?" you tease, trying to lighten the mood.

Lando’s response is immediate—he presses a soft kiss to the top of your head, his lips lingering there for a moment longer than necessary. His hands shift, cradling you with a tenderness that almost feels too gentle, like you’re something precious he’s afraid to break. "Just don’t scare me like that again," he whispers, his voice barely above a breath, as though the thought of you being hurt again is more than he can bear. "And we’ll call it even."

You smile up at him, heart full of warmth for this man who always seems to put your well-being before his own. But you can’t promise him that. You know how the sport works, how unpredictable it is. You’ll never be able to give him that guarantee.

But there’s something you can promise him, something more important. You squeeze his hand, the simple act grounding you both in this moment. Your voice is steady as you look up into his eyes, locking your gaze with his. "No matter what happens," you say, the words firm but soft, a promise from the deepest part of you, "you’ll always have me. I’ll always have you."

His expression softens in a way that makes you think he’s heard every unspoken word in your statement, and for a moment, neither of you speaks. The air between you feels full—full of shared understanding, full of the love you have for each other, full of the promise that no matter the challenges, no matter the risks, you’ll face it all side by side.

For a long moment, Lando is quiet, his thumb still brushing over your skin in slow, absentminded strokes. But then his breath catches slightly, and when you glance up, you see it—the way his eyes shimmer with unshed tears. His jaw tenses as if he’s trying to hold it all back, but the emotion is too heavy, too raw.

"I thought I lost you," he admits, his voice breaking just enough to reveal the fear he’s been holding in. "When everything was happening, and I couldn’t reach you..." He trails off, shaking his head as if trying to push the memory away, but his grip on you tightens like he never wants to let go again. "I don’t know what I would’ve done if—"

"Hey," you interrupt softly, your hand moving to cup his face, your thumb brushing against the dampness on his cheek. "I’m here. I’m okay. And I’m not going anywhere."

That seems to break whatever wall he was trying to hold up. Lando lets out a shaky breath, his forehead dropping against yours as he closes his eyes. "I just... I can’t lose you," he confesses, the words raw and vulnerable in a way that makes your chest ache. "Not you."

You press a soft kiss to his lips, hoping it conveys everything words can’t. "You won’t," you promise against his mouth, your voice unwavering. "I’m right here."

He nods slightly, like he’s trying to believe it, and when he pulls you into his arms again, it’s with a desperation that speaks to how close he felt to losing you. But in this moment, with his heart laid bare and your arms wrapped tightly around each other, there’s nothing else that matters.

Lando kisses you gently on the forehead, his lips lingering there for just a second longer. "That’s all I need," he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. Then, his arms pull you even closer, his warmth radiating through your bones.

[l4ndoflove]

ocean eyes , pt. 2

feat. lando norris

lyrics preview if you jump into lando's "ocean eyes", you know the risk is drowning... but for him, you're willing to take it

maddie shout-out to my baby @piston-cup for being the most supportive "anon" ever and my main motivation to write this, I LOVE U <3

2720 words

⏮️ previous track

Ten days.

That’s exactly how long your silence lasted.

Not that you went radio silent, of course, just… quiet. Quieter than you’d ever been with Lando, anyway.

You started calling him less and less often after that night at his apartment—not out of pettiness, but simply because the mere sound of his voice made your chest ache in a way that should’ve never belonged to him in the first place.

Because it was wrong.

Because now, every time his name lit up on the screen of your phone, a little part of you stubbornly hoped he was calling for the same reason you were waiting for him to.

He never was. And distancing yourself suddenly seemed like the only thing that could help you, if not overcome that suffocating feeling of yearning, at least lock it up in the farthest corner of your mind and pretend it wasn’t giving you the illusion you’d lost something you’d never even had.

Lando, for his part, didn’t seem to notice. He kept texting you, kept sending you stupid reels and talking to you as always—maybe even more insistently than before—making the whole “ghosting” plan way harder than it should’ve been.

Until, one day, it happened.

A message. That’s all it took for your resolution to crumble.

lando: oi muppet

lando: you coming to monaco this weekend right?

You weren’t sure how many times you’d reread those words in your head, allowing that stupidly affectionate nickname to carve a deeper hole in your already hollow chest—right where your heart was supposed to be.

Clearly long enough for his voice to ring in your ears as if he was there talking to you in person.

You could’ve said no. That you were busy. That you couldn’t afford the flight and you didn’t want him to pay for it as always.

You should’ve said no–

you: sure

you: but i’m not crashing at yours this time

lando: why not :(

you: because

Because.

***

You spent the whole weekend with his parents, part because you hadn’t seen them in ages, part to use them as a wall to shield yourself from Lando.

And, against your better judgment, it worked. Adam and Cisca basically stole you whenever they got the chance to tell you about their life—which was perfectly fine—and ask you about yours—which wasn’t, but you tried to answer them anyway.

That’s how you ended up tucked in a corner of the McLaren garage, away from all the cameras, the mechanics, the noise, headset covering just one of your ears as the woman beside you talked the other off.

But your mind was somewhere else entirely.

Your eyes were fixed on the screen hanging right above your head, searching for a flash of papaya every time the frame moved to a different sector.

Ironic, you thought, how everyone kept calling Lando’s car a “rocket ship”, yet your heart could race just as fast.

Sure, you were used to Sundays like this, the adrenaline of the competition, the excitement of knowing your best friend would be starting from pole position… but Monaco?

It had been his dream since childhood, probably. Hell, he’d talked about it so much it had become your dream, too. And you were finally watching it happen in real life.

“Did they pit him yet?” Cisca’s muttering brutally brought you back from the labyrinth of memories you’d lost yourself in, your eyes snapping away from the screen and landing on her focused face instead.

“No, he still has to go in.”

“Right,” she nodded, more to herself than to you as her attention shifted back to the broadcast. “When do you think…”

Her voice trailed off. Scrunching your eyebrows together, you followed her gaze to where it had stopped, confusion lacing both your expressions now.

“Oh.”

Yeah, oh.

You found yourself staring at none other than Magui, orange headphones sitting naturally on her hair like a crown, effortlessly charming even though she wasn’t trying to be.

You already knew she was there, of course. You’d seen her walking around the paddock the days before, and it also wasn’t the first time they’d shown her on live television—nothing new, really.

What Sky Sports had forgotten to mention earlier that weekend, however, was now staring right back at you, written in capital letters so bright that you felt them burning behind your eyelids the moment you looked away:

Margarida Corceiro

Model & Lando Norris’ Partner

Two pairs of eyes bore through you before you even had the time to give those words a meaning, and you had to muster every ounce of willpower you had left to keep a straight face without showing any compromising emotion.

“So… they made it official, huh?” Adam’s voice was hesitant, awkward, almost like he wasn’t sure if he should laugh or hold back.

“But–I thought…” His wife kept glancing between you and the screen with the same lost expression of a fish out of water, disbelief simmering beneath her initial confusion.

As for you… well, you didn’t have time to add anything else—not that you would've even if you had the chance to—because the whole team suddenly erupted into cheers so loud that they startled you.

Crofty’s voice echoed off the walls, blasting from the speakers: “Lando Norris wins the Monaco Grand Prix!”

He'd done it.

He’d won, and you hadn’t even looked at the screen the moment he’d crossed the finish line, too busy obsessing over something that shouldn’t have surprised you the way it did.

The least you could do for him now was run up to his car like everyone else around you and congratulate him with a hug, a smile, maybe a few tears, too. The usual routine.

And run you did—turning your back to parc fermé and heading toward the exit like the coward you were.

Because you couldn’t stand the idea of watching someone else being the reason his smirk widened as soon as he spotted her in the crowd, jumping into his arms before you, getting lifted off the ground like she was the real trophy…

As selfish as it sounded, that had always been your place—and you weren’t one to share.

So–

“Where are you going?”

You froze.

Lando had always had the annoying ability to express your thoughts for you.

“Out,” you replied without even turning around, “it’s hot here.”

“You’re kidding, right?” he scoffed like he couldn’t believe his ears, jogging up to you until you were face to—well, chest. “I won Monaco, and you’re just… what, leaving?”

You exhaled a shaky breath. “Listen, I–”

“No, wait, I know!” he brightened up, suddenly excited. “It’s for a surprise, right? If I have to stay here, I can–”

“Lando, it’s not… what surprise?”

His grin, that big, toothy grin that lit up every room he walked into, faltered, and your heart withered like a sunflower in the dark.

“Maybe the team planned something without telling me, I don’t know,” you rushed the words out, desperate to fix your mistake, “so why don’t you go back to them–”

“You don’t want to be with me?”

“No–I mean, yes! But I’m sure there are plenty of people who want to congratulate you right now–”

“And you? Do you want to congratulate me?”

Your breath caught at his sharp tone.

He’d never talked to you that way before.

And you tried to answer him, you really did, but all you managed to do was open and close your mouth a couple of times, unable to make a single sound because of the growing tightness in your throat.

Lando frowned.

“So now you won’t even speak to me? After one week of silence? Are you–” he cut himself off, running a hand through his hair out of frustration. “Are you mad at me? Is that it? Did I do something wrong?”

“What? No!”

“Then why are you acting like I did?”

“I’m not acting like anything–”

“Yes, you are! You don’t call me anymore, you don’t reply to my texts, you barely look at me when we’re together—this weekend I didn’t even know where you were half of the time!”

“Sorry, I didn’t know you were tracking my whereabouts 24/7.”

You flinched before he did when you registered what you’d said, the voice inside your head screaming “What the hell are you doing!?”.

Choosing yourself, that’s what you were doing. Because choosing Lando had become way too complicated, and if you had to hurt him to stop hurting yourself… then be it.

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“Can we not do this here, please?”

“Why? What are you so scared of? People watching?”

Now that he mentioned it, you remembered you still were in the middle of the garage where all his team, friends, family—and girlfriend, your mind didn’t fail to add—were, and the heavy silence that had fallen over the room was proof enough that they’d heard everything.

“I’m not in the mood right now, okay? Just let it go,” you shrugged, turning to leave.

His hand closed around your wrist a second later.

“No, I’m not letting it go. I’m not letting you go.” Were you imagining things, or did his voice actually soften? “You’ve been avoiding me for days, and I want to know why. As your best friend, I think I deserve the truth.”

There it was. The final straw.

You’d never felt so little nor sounded so miserable when you finally found the courage to speak up.

“That’s the problem,” you whispered, not trusting yourself to talk out loud. “What if I don’t want you to be my best friend anymore?”

At that moment, everything stopped.

The air was so still you could hear a pin drop.

Instead, you heard someone gasping, then trying to cover it up with a cough. Someone shifted in the background. From the corner of your eye, you even saw Adam holding back Cisca and whispering something that sounded awfully close to “Let them sort it out themselves.”

As if you could sort anything out when Lando was standing right in front of you, yet you didn’t even dare to look him in the face.

Then, voice low and hoarse like it physically hurt him to speak, he broke the silence.

“You don’t mean that.”

You did. That was the problem. And you hated how painful it was to finally admit it—to him as much as to yourself—but most of all, you couldn’t handle being the reason he sounded so broken on what should’ve been the best day of his life.

“Sorry, I… I shouldn’t have said anything. Forget it.”

“God, can you stop minimizing this like it’s nothing? And will you–” he tugged at your arm, making you stumble dangerously closer to his chest. “Will you at least look at me? I’m trying to talk to you.”

He leaned in as if to prove his point, ragged breath fanning over your hair as he searched your eyes—which were inevitably drawn to his like magnets to metal.

The second you locked gazes, you knew it was over.

He was glowing. Champagne still dripped from his soaked through fireproofs and the messy curls that were sticking to his forehead, drops sliding down his tan skin like liquid rays of sunshine.

No wonder why they called him McLaren’s golden boy.

And yet, even as he stood there bathing in the Monaco sun, the brighter light still was the one shining in his eyes.

Captivating. Hypnotizing, even. Just as lethal as the one deep-sea predators use to lure their prey right before they strike.

You had to escape before you ended up the same way.

“There’s nothing to say. Now go celebrate, they’re all waiting for you.”

“Nothing? You not wanting me as your best friend anymore is nothing?”

“I didn’t mean–”

“Then what did you mean? Because I’m having a really hard time understanding you–”

“I want you to be more than that, okay? That’s what I meant.”

The words flew out of your mouth so suddenly that you surprised even yourself, but there was no turning back now. The damage had already been done, so you might as well go all the way with it, right?

“I know it’s stupid, and I know it’s never gonna happen, but I can’t pretend I’m fine with playing the part of the supportive best friend when all I really want is to be with you. And maybe if we hadn’t played that stupid game at your apartment last week, I wouldn’t have realized I was–I am in love with you, and we could go back to being friends, and I wouldn’t cry every night over you being with Magui–”

“Wait–Magui? What does she have to do with any of this?”

Despite the situation, you couldn’t help the bitter, disbelieving chuckle you forced out as an answer.

“You’re seriously asking me what your girlfriend has to do with–”

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

You almost fell for it. Almost.

“Right. Did Sky Sports not get the memo, or…?”

Lando blinked—once, twice, as if to give you time to explain yourself even though it was clear you weren’t going to.

“I have no idea what you mean.”

You shook your head. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Don’t–” you tried to steady your breath, eyes shut to hold back the tears welling up. “Don’t lie to me.”

The silence that followed stung like a slap.

“I’m not mad, okay? It’s just–I wish you’d told me that things with her were this serious instead of finding out from a caption on TV, you know?”

His fingers twitched around your wrist.

So did the corner of his mouth.

And, even if you couldn’t see the smirk spreading across his face, the amusement in his voice was unmistakable.

“You’re right. Things did get quite serious.”

It was the kind of sentence you would’ve expected to flinch at, especially hearing it coming from Lando.

You didn’t.

Or better, you did, but not because of it. It was the feather-light touch of his knuckles against your cheekbone that made you wince, the gentleness with which he brushed away tears you hadn’t even realized you’d shed sending a shiver down your spine.

Not out of discomfort, but rather a crippling, wishful anticipation.

“So serious, actually,” he went on, “that we broke up.”

One after the other, you let each word sink into your chest like shells floating gracefully down to the bottom of the ocean and fill the void your heart had left when it had crawled out of you to reach Lando.

One after the other, they gave a new shape to the castle of dreams that had crumbled–

“Ten days ago, to be exact. The same night we…”

“… hung out at your apartment,” you mumbled to yourself, almost in a trance. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“Well, you didn’t exactly make it easy for me,” he murmured, grinning from ear to ear as if it was an inside joke only the two of you could understand.

Like old times.

“Thought I’d scared you off.” He cupped your jaw and stroked it softly with his thumb. “That you felt uncomfortable because I’d made it too obvious.”

Your lips parted out of reflex to ask what the hell he was talking about—but deep down, you already knew.

Because the old Lando had never looked at you that way.

Not like you hung the moon. Like you were his moon.

You smiled. Shy. Wet. Probably ugly. But you smiled for the first time in almost two weeks.

“Make it more obvious next time, dumbass.”

“Like this?”

His lips crashed against yours like waves on a shore, taking away pieces of your soul whenever he pulled back just to flood you with his as soon as the tide turned.

It wasn’t a kiss—it was a collision of teeth and tongues that screamed all the things they’d left unsaid for too long.

“I love you,” Lando whispered into your mouth, “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

Falling for each other had been an accident. Diving in was a choice.

© 2025 l4ndoflove. all rights reserved.

[bytemee]

SECOND NATURE — kim minjeong.

synopsis. winter supposedly hates when you tease her—but she hates it even more when your attention is on someone else.

pairing. winter x added!member!reader

warning(s). fluffy, r is a big tease tease, slightly possessive winter, and let me know if there's more!

words. 850 💔

authors note. had to get a req out. im not ignoring them i swear im just lazy & kinda busy. also not a lot of drama im sorry anon :( it was just too cute

navigation. main masterlist. request.

winter was in the middle of a solo live broadcast when you decided to join in through the comments.

at first, you kept it subtle, just sending random emojis and vague messages. but then you saw her sipping on her drink, and you had to say something.

y/n: why do u hold ur cup like that lmao

y/n: so small… like ur hands

winter paused mid-sip, eyes narrowing. “yah,” she muttered, scanning the comments until she found yours. “why are you even here?”

she tried to act unfazed, but the way she adjusted her grip on the cup said otherwise.

y/n: just admiring how cute u look struggling w that big cup

winter choked on her drink. “i am not struggling!” she insisted, wiping her mouth. “this is normal!”

the fans, of course, began eating up the drama. you and winter exchanged quips for a bit, with winter growing more and more flustered each time, much to your entertainment.

y/n: show them ur hands compared to the cup

winter hesitated. “no.”

y/n: pls

she sighed before finally holding up the cup next to her hand.

it was, in fact, way too big for her.

you nearly cackled.

y/n: ohmygod

winter immediately ended the live.

then there was the time during rehearsal when she was trying to focus on a dance move, and you just had to mess with her.

winter is practicing a turn, her expression serious as she concentrates. but the moment she lands and meets your gaze, you give her a slow, exaggerated wink.

she stumbles.

“y/n!” she whines, immediately turning back around to avoid your smug face.

“what?” you ask innocently. “did i distract you?”

“obviously!”

you chuckle, walking up to her. “my bad, my bad. here, try again.”

she eyes you suspiciously but sighs before resetting her stance. you nod encouragingly as she prepares to turn again.

just as she moves—

you poke her side.

she yelps, spinning a little too fast and losing her footing. she goes down in an ungraceful tangle of limbs, glaring up at you from the floor.

you grin sheepishly.

winter is furious.

she’s so easy to mess with—it’s practically a sport at this point.

winter sits cross-legged on the couch in the practice room, scrolling through her phone, completely unaware of your approach. you sneak up behind her and suddenly wrap your arms around her shoulders.

she flinches, almost dropping her phone. “yah!”

“just checking if you’re still ticklish,” you tease, resting your chin on her shoulder.

she wriggles in your hold, huffing. “i’m not—”

you squeeze her sides lightly.

she yelps.

the entire room erupts into laughter. giselle and ningning are practically on the floor.

winter twists around to glare at you, cheeks burning. “i hate you.”

“you love me,” you correct, grinning.

she groans, smacking your arm. “go away!”

it’s supposed to be a casual group live—just you, winter, karina, giselle, and ningning, sitting together promoting the new single and chatting with fans.

and for the past few minutes, you’ve been directing all your teasing at giselle.

“eh, why do you always sit like that?” you laugh, nudging giselle’s shoulder.

she raises an eyebrow. “like what?”

“like you own the place,” you joke. “you sit like a ceo in every live.”

the fans flood the chat with laughing emojis, some agreeing, others spamming “giselle ceo era.”

giselle plays along, smirking. “maybe i do own the place.”

“oh?” you lean in, grinning. “should we start calling you boss?”

winter, sitting beside you, shifts slightly. you don’t notice at first—too focused on the banter with giselle. but the chat certainly does.

winter looks mad lol

minjeong is pouting.

she’s jealous.

meanwhile, you continue teasing. “giselle, say something ceo-like.”

giselle dramatically clears her throat. “you’re all fired.”

the group bursts into laughter, but before you can say anything else, you feel a hand tug at your hoodie.

you barely have time to react before you’re pulled back—right into winter’s side.

you blink, glancing at her. she isn’t looking at you, instead focusing on the screen with a suspiciously neutral expression.

but her grip on your hoodie tightens.

winter pulling y/n helppp.

possessive winter omg.

did she just…

you glance at giselle, who is trying not to smile. ningning and karina look equally amused.

you smile.

“stop teasing giselle,” winter muttered under her breath, and though she tried to sound casual, the possessiveness in her tone wasn’t lost on you.

you bite your lip to keep from laughing. “yeah, okay, fine.”

winter lets go of your hoodie and tries to play it off as nothing, but you know she can still feel the weight of your eyes on her.

you tried your best to stifle your smile, but it was hard not to enjoy the way winter was reacting. she glanced at you from the corner of her eye, but as soon as she saw you looking back, she quickly turned her head away.

she was so cute.

you reach over and take her hand.

she tenses, glancing at you again.

you smile warmly.

the fans in the chat go crazy.

again.

[ldydeath]

Bullshit | Kwon Ji-yong (G-Dragon)

Summary: Jiyong gets jealous of your friendship with Jackson Wang after seeing some texts. Word Count: 1888 Warnings: Jealousy, Jiyong being a big dumb in a cute way, fluff, slight nsfw? Like very light hand stuff but no actual smut. Author’s Note: this idea came to me after joining Jackson’s broadcast channel. Its just a silly little thing to get me back into writing. I’ve never written for Jackson before so be gentle. And of course the word count is 1888. Ji is in my head I swear.

Jiyong wasn’t the type to get jealous. At least that’s what he’d thought until he’d met you. It wasn’t that he was insecure or doubted your relationship, he knew what you had was solid. He just didn’t like to share. So when you’d met Jackson at his concert in Korea and become friends he hadn’t cared at first.

He still liked to pretend he didn’t care. He knew you’d been a fan of his music, knew he was a good person, a good friend. But it drove him crazy anytime he saw Jackson around you. Especially now that he’d seen that stupid notification.

He hadn’t meant to see it. Hadn’t been spying. You were showing him a funny fan edit when the notification bar had dropped down.

In hotel. Currently.

Why the fuck was he telling you he was in his hotel? Jiyong wasn’t having that. He’d spent the rest of the night trying to hide his pout. This was supposed to be a good week. His best friend was back out in the world, in the same city as the festival he was set to perform at no less. The three of you had been having fun all week sneaking around behind cameras to go to dinners and art museums around Los Angeles and then Jackson had showed up.

As the two of you arrived at sound check, there he was. Talking to one of the producers. Why was he even there? His stuff was on Sunday. Jiyong glared as you let go of his hand and made your way to him.

“Jackson!” You grinned, pulling your friend in for a hug. Completely unaware of Jiyong’s seething.

“Hey!” He hugged you back, his eyes finding Jiyong who nodded. “How are you?”

“Great! Tired. Jet lag is a bitch. I honestly don’t know how you guys do this all the time.”

Jackson laughed and Jiyong’s head whipped around. He’d turned for a second to get his equipment ready when he heard the laugh. This wasn’t going to work. He rolled his shoulders and made his way over to you, his arm wrapping loosely around you.

“Hi Jiyong.” Jackson bowed respectfully. Jiyong didn’t return the bow, just nodded his head.

“You scooping out the acts or something?” There was a slight edge to Jiyong’s voice.

“No, I knew you two were here today and wanted to show my support.”

“Oh. Well, I’d invite you to hang out after but we’ll be busy. If you catch my drift.” Your eyes shot up towards Jiyong who was now smirking.

“Oh yeah, that’s cool.” Jackson shrugged, his brows raising in confusion.

“Well. I better get up there.” He waved to Jackson before leaning in to kiss you.

After soundcheck you’d met Jiyong backstage and headed back to the hotel. You spent the rest of the evening resting in the hotel, watch live streams of Seunghyun killing his return to the spotlight. Jiyong sending him encouraging texts while you showed him all the fan edits of the two of them.

It was fun watching the fans freak out because Gtop was in the same city, as if they didn’t live down the street from each other back home. Jiyong was laughing at the newest reel when another message from Jackson popped up about going to bed. He saw red. He’d remind you tomorrow just how silly it was for you to be talking like this with Jackson.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

Jiyong rolled his eyes as the name popped back into his head. He needed to focus. He went on in an hour and all he could think about was how you’d be watching from the front row with him.

“You ok?” Your voice broke him from his thoughts and he cleared his throat as he popped his knuckles.

“Peachy.” He mumbled, a small smile finding its way to his face.

“Okay. Come on, let’s color your tips”

It had become tradition at this point to spray his tips before every show. Something you enjoyed doing for him. He didn’t trust a lot of people with his hair but this was something easy, to test the waters, and you were happy to do it.

“Nah. I’m going full pink.” He smirked and leaned in to place a kiss on your cheek.

You put the bottle down and watched him make his way to the sink. Thirty minutes later his beautiful white locks that you’d barely gotten to appreciate because two months wasn’t long enough, were now pink. He stood in front of you with a smirk.

“What do you think?”

“The fangirls are going to go crazy tonight.” You grinned as you looked at the finished product.

His hair now fully styled for the night. You leaned up to fix the collar on his blue jacket. It was much different from the rose suit he usually wore out on stage, but this look was doing it for you.

“Go, there’s a VIP section up front for you, Jaeho will take you. I’ll see you after.”

“Ok. Love you.”

Just as you were about to leave, he grabbed your arm and spun you around, his infamous smirk on his lips. Before you could ask what he was doing, his lips were on yours. His hand roaming down to your ass and he gave it a gentle squeeze. You gasped, which he took advantage of by slipping his tongue into your mouth. His hand moving from your ass to slip under your skirt, rubbing the thin material of your panties. Just enough to tease you.

“See you after.” He smirked as he pulled away. You glared at him as you made your way out of the trailer.

You made your way to the front row, with Jaeho leading the way and were surprised to find Jackson as well as a few other artists there.

“Hey!” You waved as you pulled your day-g out of your pocket.

“Hey. Is he good?” Jackson’s head nodded to the stage and your brows furrowed.

“Yeah? Why?”

“He just seemed kind of off yesterday.”

“Oh.” You waved your hand, as if blowing off his behavior. “He gets weird before shows sometimes, he’s fine. I wouldn’t worry about it.”

The music started and you cheered as the DJs intro set came out. It lasted longer than you would’ve liked, but once the intro to Power started you no longer felt like Jiyong’s girlfriend. You felt like a fan.

When he didn’t come out right away you led the crowd in a Kwon Jiyong chant, knowing he’d eat it up. When he finally emerged he was oozing in confidence. He’d slowly been getting G-Dragon back week after week, but tonight was different.

He didn’t have to hype himself up to do his swag check chant it finally just came naturally. His movements were smooth, sure, like the stage was made for him. Seeing him this way was hot.

“Good job, Jiyong!” You yelled. His eyes roaming around loooking for you.

“Who said that?” He peered out into the crowd, eyes finally landing on you. “Was it you?” You nodded and he crouched down, pointing at you with a smirk. “Thank you.” He sassed, a playful smirk on his lips as he stood back up to finish the song.

He hadn’t missed the fact that you were standing with Jackson and as much as he wanted to step off the stage and punch him, he couldn’t. So he put his energy into making sure he gave you the best performance he could muster today.

He tried to mix things up a bit, doing a remix of Drama, the DJ adding the air horn effect wasn’t doing it for you or him. You could see him trying not to laugh every time it went off. You and Jackson had started counting down to it at this point. It was definitely going to be something you laughed at for years to come.

When it was time for the Too Bad dance break, you cheered the loudest. This was always your favorite part. So when he started singing We’re up all night to get lucky and his eyes found yours, you blushed. This song was one of the ones you two sang to each other as a joke and now he was singing it to you in front of the largest crowd you’d seen. He winked at you before finishing the song.

And just like that, the night was over. Jackson walked you back to the artist only area since Jaeho was busy doing his job. Jiyong spotted you coming and walked over to you both, the smirk still on his face.

“Thanks for bringing my girl back safely, Magic Mike.” He smirked, shaking Jackson’s hand.

“Yeah? No problem?” Jackson scratched the back of his head before walking over to talk to Chaerin.

“You were amazing!” You gushed leaning up to plant a kiss on his lips.

“Better than Jackson?” He whined.

“Ji, what?” You weren’t sure what Jackson had to do with this.

“I saw the messages. On instagram.” You blinked at him and he sighed. “At the hotel? At the gym? Going to bed.” He rolled his eyes and you let out a snort.

“Are you serious?” He nodded. “One. You’re an idiot. I’m not sneaking around with Jackson. Two. It’s his broadcast channel.”

“His what?” He cut you off, confusion on his face.

“His broadcast channel. To connect with fans. He just overshares more than everyone else and I’ve been meaning to mute the chat altogether but keep forgetting.” You pulled out your phone, handing it to Jiyong to investigate.

After a few minutes of scrolling, Jiyong’s face flushed, clearly embarrassed for thinking the worst of you both.

“Oh.” You nodded, taking your phone back.

“Oh indeed.” You grinned. “You’re so lucky I love your dumb ass. “Jackson!” You turned finding your friend who made his way back over to you guys. “I believe Ji has something he’d like to say to you.”

Jiyong rolled his eyes before turning to Jackson, “I didn’t know what a broadcast channel was and thought you were trying to move in on my girl. So I’m sorry for acting weird.”

“Hey, can’t blame you. She’s a catch anyone with eyes can see that. But we all respect you a little too much to try and ruin your life, Hyung.” He paused. “How are you chronically online and don’t know what a broadcast channel is? You old, man.”

“Go away.” Jiyong laughed. Jackson bowed and walked off.

“Come on.” You grabbed Jiyong’s hand and basically yanked him to start moving towards the exit.

“Where are we going?” He ran to keep up with you.

“To finish what you started before your set.”

“I haven’t even changed yet!” He tried to yank his arm free. “You gotta let up your grip, you’re hurting me.”

“You’re not changing.” You turned to face him, your grip not loosening. “You look fucking hot and we gotta go now.”

Jiyong smirked and shook his head as he followed you out. It may have been a misunderstanding but he was glad to know you still only had eyes for him after all this time. That was the only confidence boost he’d ever really need. He was lucky to have you and be loved by you.

tag list: @wcnderlnds @infinetlyforgotten @berfgrimm @aizshallnotbefound @loveesiren @gdinthehouseee @tulentiy @petersasteria @ttturnitup @flymetothexmoon @mashtatosworld @alosss-blog @sooyasya @dprvivi @mirahyun @breakmeoff @1950schick @sherrayyyyy @bettelaboure @allthoughtsmindfull @soragojo

[scoupsakakitty]

Hii, could i request that yk in some reality shows, the MC is making the idols call someone, like their friends or family. So I was wondering if I could request a jeonghan, hoshi, mingyu or Vernon au where they called you and they didnt expect it cuz the relationship is still new to the public. Im sorry idk if that makes sense

The Call | idol!Jeonghan x Reader | fluff

The game segment had started off harmlessly. The MCs were laughing, the members were competitive, and everything was lighthearted until the next challenge was revealed.

“Now, let’s have a special phone call segment! Each member will randomly call someone close to them!”

The room was filled with surprised reactions, and Jeonghan instantly tensed up. His relationship with Y/N wasn’t exactly a secret among his members, but the public barely knew anything. They had been dating for a while, but the two of them had kept things lowkey. And now, on national television, he was being forced to make a spontaneous call.

The other members were excitedly pulling out their phones, already dialing friends and family, but Jeonghan hesitated. He glanced at the camera, then at the screen displaying his name.

“Hyung, hurry up!” Hoshi nudged him with a grin.

With a small sigh, Jeonghan unlocked his phone and scrolled through his contacts. His fingers hovered over Y/N’s name for a second before he pressed the call button.

The call connected after the third ring.

“Jeonghan? You’re calling me?”

The familiarity in Y/N’s voice made his heart skip a beat. He could hear the confusion, but also the warmth. The members immediately erupted into a chorus of teasing and dramatic gasps.

“Y/N! You’re live on air,” Jeonghan warned quickly, chuckling at the reaction from both Y/N and the members.

“Oh my god, are you serious?” came the immediate response, and he could picture the way Y/N’s eyes must have widened in surprise.

The MCs leaned in with interest. “Y/N, how do you feel about Jeonghan randomly calling you?”

There was a pause, and then a soft laugh from the other end. “Honestly? I’m surprised. He usually texts before calling. But it’s nice. Hi, everyone!”

The members cooed exaggeratedly while Jeonghan rubbed the back of his neck, a rare moment of shyness washing over him.

“So, what does Jeonghan call you when you’re alone?” DK asked mischievously, sending the studio into chaos.

Jeonghan groaned. “Alright, that’s enough of this segment!”

But even as the teasing continued, he couldn’t help the way his smile lingered, the warmth of Y/N’s voice still ringing in his ears.

The segment continued with other members making their calls, but the energy in the room was still fixated on Jeonghan’s moment. The MCs had taken note of the reactions, and even the fans watching the live broadcast were buzzing with excitement over this rare glimpse into Jeonghan’s personal life.

After the show ended, Jeonghan found himself scrolling through messages. As expected, fans were already speculating about Y/N and their relationship. He exhaled slowly, thinking about how much had changed since he first started dating. Keeping things private had always been his instinct, but now that it was out there, he felt strangely relieved.

His phone buzzed with an incoming message from Y/N.

Y/N: So, I’m famous now?

Jeonghan chuckled, typing a quick reply.

Jeonghan: You’ve always been famous to me.

His heart warmed when he saw Y/N typing back almost immediately. Maybe this unplanned reveal wasn’t so bad after all.

[alastorss]

AAAA ITS GOOD TO HAVE YOU BACK!

I love your characterization of Alastor sm ❤️❤️❤️

Could I request reader dropping dead things (people/body parts, deer, etc.) at his door/radio tower? No note, just corpses. He’s gotta figure out who tf if dropping these for him.

a/n: thank you, it's so good to be back!! i really appreciate you and everyone for being so welcoming :')) <3

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

"You've been doing what?!"

"I didn't think it was so bad... You're the one who wanted me to make friends!"

Charlie only gawks at you, tugging at the ends of her hair in stress. The Princess of Hell paces back and forth across the room, slowly piecing together why Alastor has been in such a foul mood lately.

"So you thought the best way to make friends with the Radio Demon was to leave dead bodies at his doorstep?"

"He loves dead bodies."

"Yeah, to eat them! Oh god, what kind of message have you been sending to him?" She babbles on, exasperated and flinging her hands around in a panic. "He must think you're threatening him or something!"

"Well..." you make some sort of constipated expression and Charlie stops dead in her tracks. "He might not know they've been from me."

"You've been leaving them anonymously?" The Princess squeaks, unsure of whether that makes it infinitely better or infinitely worse. "What was even the point then?"

"I get nervous!" You argue, flopping back on the couch and laying an arm over your eyes. "I was going to tell him eventually."

Alastor was a different breed of terrifying. He could silence a room just by breathing in it. The wailing souls in his broadcast were enough to command that sort of attention.

When Charlie had given you the task of making friends as a part of her "redemption project" you had assumed he was exempt from the list. He was, after all, fairly secluded despite his cheery demeanour. Very few had ever managed to become his companions.

However, your hopes of avoiding him had been flushed down the drain when you accidentally bumped into each other on the way out on your very first day.

He gave you a look over, scrutinizing you from head to toe until your cheeks burned. Then, demanded something very simple of you:

"Welcome! Please, do entertain me."

His first and, as of today, last words he ever spoke to you. Sure, your methods were a little unorthodox, but you had asked Husk for advice and Alastor's cannibalistic tendencies were as much as the bartender was willing to spill.

When you don't receive any response, you peel your arm away to peer at your friend. She makes another two laps around the coffee table before her face lights up.

"I've got it!"

"I don't like that look on your face—"

"Come on," she laughs, pulling you by the wrists. "You just have to be honest. And make sure he knows you're not trying to kill him!"

"How am I supposed to do that?" You ask nervously. "You just told me he's been in a worse mood than usual."

A sinister smile that could only belong to the daughter of the devil creeps its way across her lips.

Dread. All you feel is terrible dread.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

As much as Alastor enjoys a good meal, this is becoming excessive.

It must be the seventh or eighth body this week. And, as usual, there is no note. No indication of why there's a corpse or a deer head or a rabbit's foot at his door. He can't even sniff out any traces of a soul being here.

He hates charity.

Not even because he does not need it, but because the anonymity is making him think they're gifts of pity. That, or it's a threat on his life. Either way, he loathes the idea that someone is looking down on him.

The demon needs to get to the bottom of this soon. Paranoia is not common for him, but the anxious bubbling in his chest is unmistakable. Whoever keeps leaving the bodies at his door is meticulously clean when they kill. He would hate to be on the receiving end of the blade.

Just as he's about to dump the body in his swamp for later, there's a knock on his bedroom door. He hesitates.

No, he isn't afraid of whoever is on the other side of the door. However, if there were a fight, he would need to get his suit tailored again and he simply doesn't have the time for that today.

He takes slightly too long to decide whether or not the person on the other side of the wall is a threat, because soon enough his ears pick up the sound of retreating footsteps.

Alastor swings the doors open so fast that you yelp.

At first he's confused why you refuse to turn around to look at him. Lacking common manners—he'll have to bring that up to you later. Then, he's confused on why you've shown up to his door at all.

"May I help you, dear?"

A chill creeps down your spine. Charlie and her ideas... they would be the death of you. Preferably today. Right now.

"I didn't mean to disturb you!" You stammer, still not looking at him.

Alastor raises a brow before popping up behind you from the shadows. You squeak, clutching somehing to your chest and shielding it from his gaze. He does a loop around your body and you spin around to keep the item hidden. The Radio Demon narrows his eyes.

"Are you hiding something?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

You do another spin as he tries to get a peek of what's in your hands.

"You wouldn't lie to me, would you?" He feigns offense. Again, another spin.

"Of course not!"

"You see, I very much don't enjoy being lied to. Last time I caught a scoundrel in my midst, I cracked them open like a—"

"Okay, okay!" You suddenly burst out. You turn so slow that Alastor feels himself holding his breath.

When he finally sees what you've been so insistent on hiding, he snickers. Impolitely, mind you.

"Don't laugh," you whine, squeezing the bouquet closer to your chest. Amongst the flowers are little pieces of death—fingers, eyes, ears.

Charlie had decided that one step back in your redemption by collecting body parts like this would result in three steps forward. She allowed it, just this once.

"Are these for me?" He purrs, leaning down until his face is in yours. You'd been warned before that Alastor had no concept of personal space, but you can't help the way it robs the air in your lungs.

"Please don't get the wrong idea," you strain in embarrassment. "I just wanted to say... I'm sorry. For leaving all those bodies here. I didn't mean for it to come across as insulting."

The demon blinks at you in stunned silence for a few moments before he cackles, standing back to let you breathe again. "Why, of course! No hard feelings, darling."

"Really?" You lighten up with a sigh of relief.

"Your little gifts have kept me on my toes," he assures. "Perhaps not my idea of entertainment, but the effort was there."

"I'm glad to hear that," you smile. "Charlie was worried you wouldn't accept my apology or want to be friends."

You seem to catch yourself, eyes going wide as you shake your head.

"N-Not that I'm assuming this means we can be friends!"

Alastor only laughs again, gentler this time. "No need to be so jumpy. I don't bite," he muses. "And tell the Princess she has nothing to worry about."

He takes the bouquet from you, hands lingering over yours for a fraction longer than he meant for them to.

"I would love to be your friend."

~

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[burdenandacrop]

i need a fic with schlatt or ted (or both (separately)) obsessing over the reader’s tits. like, tongue in there, kisses, squeezing, the sorts.

- angel 💙🪽

˗ˏˋ ❝ developed a taste for you. ❞ ˎˊ˗

oh delicious, delicious, de-LISH. this is rather detailed so i hope you enjoy ! :> i'm honestly so happy someone requested ted, i go guh guh guh over that man.

summary : this is pretty much just straight to the point, not really a plot. giving the entree to you personally.

⋮ ⌗ ┆body worship, INTENSE praising, breeding kink??, a bit- messy??, more subby than anything, fem reader.

schlatt

the night was only growing older, but in his eyes; it couldn't last long enough for his liking. the two of you lazily laid on the bed as the haze of the television purred, your attention more focused on whatever broadcast was playing. his eyes stuck on how your gaze was transfixed on the screen, then slowly down to how your arms were gently crossed. coincidentally, giving him the perfect view of one of his favorite parts of you. the cherry on top being the fact that you were wearing one of his shirts. that thin athletic material was doing you justice, he felt like if he looked long enough he would feel a pool of drool spill onto his lap. it was pathetic but it was a perfect display of just how enamored he was by you.

"this isn't boring to you?" he spoke out, interrupting the silence between the two of you. you cocked your head over to his direction to see the sight of him leaned against the headboard, you knew exactly what lied under the tone of his words. "it's late night tv- what? is it boring to you?" you reply, gently adjusting yourself to face him more. the sudden movement causing a slight ripple to occur with your chest, and it was obvious where schlatt's eyes were wandering. "not what i asked." he muttered, his eyes trailing from your chest back to your face. his tongue slyly fiddling inside his mouth, as if he was trying to manifest the taste of you. he was awfully terrible of hiding how he felt. especially when it entailed when he needed you. every part of you.

"you're not making a lot of sense tonight, are you?" you softly giggle out, the clear message from him hitting you in the face. he didn't care about the stupid broadcast, he was wasted on the thought of you. something that still kept you confused, as to how he was still so caught up with the idea of you. "just thought you'd need something more- what is it." he states, clicking his tongue as he ponders on what to say, his eyes failing him as he eyes your shirt's fabric perfectly creasing with your cleavage. "entertaining. yeah, that." he finishes, letting out a quiet sigh as he tried his best to get a hold of himself. not that he really wanted to anyhow. he knew he was making himself obvious. he wanted it that way.

you drop your shoulders with a sigh that was a silent motion of giving in. your arms relaxing against the fluffy pillows, only giving schlatt a much clearer view of what he so desperately craved for. you softly grinned as you saw him shake his head, looking back up into your eyes with a knowing look. "what's your idea of that?" you chuckle out, only sending him further off the edge. he knew you knew exactly what he wanted to do. you saw how his face gently scrunched from the irritation, "oh please don't play that card tonight, baby." he pleaded, before pushing himself closer to you, softly pressing his lips onto the crook of your neck. the sudden gesture making your needy whimpers escape. "not tonight." he whispered into your neck as his lips continued to place deep kisses along your sweet spots over and over.

he quickly found his left hand groping along the cup of your breast. gently groaning as he felt the weight of it in his palm, his thumb swirling around your nipple. loving how quickly he could feel the bud growing harder under his touch. how excited he could get you, with little to no effort. he was going to put some effort into his work, especially tonight. he really couldn't understand what his deal was tonight, but it felt like he'd never done this before. as if it was a delicacy he was just now granted, all just for him. his right hand began tugging up the shirt, letting his hand roam along your soft skin. the delicate feeling under his fingertips was enough to drive him absolutely crazy. he pulled his lips off of your neck and looked down to the sight of your chest.

he let his hands pull up the shirt as his eyes were stuck on the enveloping scene in front of him, the second your breasts popped out; he was done for. quickly cupping his hands around them and leaning down to latch his lips around the left one. the sudden motion making you fall back, only exciting him further. his low growls escaping his muffled lips as he sucked down, his hands wrapped on the side of your waist as he continued. he loved how your body contorted as he touched you, how you became human clay for him to mold. his fingertips pressed down into your skin as he circled his tongue on your sensitive bud, making sure to keep you in place as he explored every nerve ending. "god, you're perfect." he muffled out as he continued his pacing.

you felt your stomach flip as he said that, he was always treating you as some other worldly being. something you still had to adjust to. your neck crooked back as he continued, hungry and desperate for anything from him. the second he felt your body start to move, his fingertips were quick to hold you down. as if he wanted you to just sit through this and take in every last shock. in which he absolutely did. "you don't even have to-" he groans out as he trips on his own words as he keeps his other hand gripping your free breast. "you don't even have to do anything." he grunted, you looked down to the sight. seeing how knitted his eyebrows were, his eyes shut as he focused so intensely on how he wanted to worship you in this way. it was utter perfection.

his grip on your breast became increasingly stronger, his other hand roaming along your side to keep you steady. "so full." he choked out before peeling his lips off, a long line of saliva connecting his lips from your breast. "fuck." he sighs out, looking back up to you with his warm brown eyes. you knew exactly what that look was. what underlies under the sweet nature of it. he kept his hand on your other one, letting his hand sprawl out so he could get a good handle of it. watching as it moved with him, the weight of it making him want to just pass out right then and there. "need to knock you up just so i can watch em' get bigger." he mumbles out, the desperation growing in his voice. you were honestly too stunned to speak with such a statement from him. you saw how his eyes slowly blinked as he eyed the wet spot on your nipple, aching to just latch right back on.

with that one look, that's all he needed. the longer he looked, the better it was. he took his two hands and pressed his thumbs into each nipple before rubbing gently along the sensitive buds of them, circling his hands to make them bounce right in front of his eyes. the sight was only making things worse, he was even turned on by the veins showing through your skin. in fact, he loved when he noticed you had a new one he could see. just meant that they were getting bigger. more for him to play around with, it was evident he was always going to be a tits guy. "fuck- could you imagine?" he muttered out once more, almost stuck in a haze from how beautiful he found you. even if it was just this one part of you, you knew you weren't going to find another who would eye you like you were some sort of art piece.

he took a soft gulp as he realized the sight was genuinely making him salivate, a bit embarrassed at the fact but who cares. he loved his lady. "might need to make that happen." he whispered as he continued pressing his thumbs into your nipples, loving how you were still so sensitive to the touch. a sly grin growing on his lips as he saw how ready you were. "this is about you, baby." he groans out before pushing your breasts together to slick his tongue between. the warmth making his entire head spin, his eyes closing as he began to lose control of his senses. every little thing was you now. how soft you were. your scent. your porn worthy noises. he was absolutely whipped in the best way possible. "all about you." he groaned out before latching his tongue back onto your left breast, lapping his tongue over and over.

the feeling was beginning to feel a little overstimulating, he could tell as well with the whimpers you were making. he just kept licking the right spot that made you jolt, to the point it could drive you numb. "everything." he muffled through the desperate kisses on you. he shook his head as he continued, "beautiful." it was catching up to you quickly with a feeling you didn't even know you could possess. a sharp inhale shooting from your lips as you felt the shock run through your body. your eyes widening as you realized on what the possible feeling was, schlatt's face poking back up to look at your somewhat distraught look. "thought those were a myth, didn't you?" he snickered out, making you sigh and poke his shoulder with a defeated expression. "you watch too much porn." you mutter softly with a groan. "seems like it came in handy." he said with a shrug. he was such a smart ass, but you'd be lying to yourself if you said you hated any bit of it.

ted

it was another excruciatingly hot day in LA, who's shocked? at least ted's apartment had decent AC. not good enough to the point you could wear normal clothes though. you had been sitting on his couch in nothing but your basketball shorts from high school and a shirt that didn't make you profusely sweat from the fabric. somehow. you knew ted was supposed to get back to his place sometime soon, or at least he said he would. you knew deep down it was silly to just be sitting here when the two of you were basically just good friends who fucked occasionally. heavy on occasionally too, he couldn't get a hint even if it hit him. you could throw yourself at him and he'd think it was some sort of bit.

now the times he actually got the hint? that was a different story. the secrecy of it all also got you going, considering he was quite- the popular one. to put it in a nice way. hot nerds get a lot of play, okay? you just knew if your friends knew you were smothered by the heat on his couch patiently waiting for him to come back, you'd have a humiliation trial done on you. in which the heat was really about to get the best of you. your eyes wandered over at the numerous quirky wall pieces he had, seeing a small framed photo that looked oddly familiar. your eyes squinting to attempt to make it seem clearer. that effort not working, you rose off the couch and slowly walked over to it. your eyebrows knitted as the realization began to strike you right then and there.

a little polaroid perfect encased in a frame, the two of you. honestly, you assumed he just threw it away. considering it was taken on a night where you had too many cocktails and became a mess of a person. he didn't though. instead, left it on display right in his hallway. a small smile appeared on your lips as you noticed the dark pink kiss mark on the side of his face in the polaroid. did any of it have some sort of meaning? were you looking too far into it? he had plenty of female friends, he probably had numerous photos with his other friends pinned to his walls. your eyes roamed the walls to try and track down any other ones. a wave of ice ran through your body as it hit you. you were the only photo he had on the wall besides the nature or nerd posters. that felt weird. some part of you just wanted to toss the fact to the back of your head.

you brought yourself closer to the framed polaroid, as if you were trying to investigate every little pixel of the photo. maybe there was something hidden behind it, maybe if you just looked close enough. your eyes transfixed on the glass before you realized there was a large fingerprint right where your face was. you couldn't see it unless you moved your head to let the light hit the glass. was the fingerprint his? if so, why would he be ... poking? it? such a stupid small picture was arising so many questions in your head. maybe it was the heat exhaustion, praying that was the outcome of your endless thoughts. right as you were almost booping noses with the glass of the frame, you heard the sound of the front door's locks being jingled. your head whipping around to be met with a sweaty ted, who was wearing a very ill fitting tank top.

"you actually waited up for me?" he chuckled out, as he wiped his face afterwards. quickly shutting the door behind him and fixing the locks, it was LA after all. you were somewhat stuck between speaking and silence. you didn't know which was the right answer. on one hand, you felt like a loser for waiting so long just to see him. then there was the other feeling of just wanting to run into his arms. you couldn't decipher what that collision was. "your ac is better." you stifled out, immediately palming your face internally. what kind of response was that? what has that stupid polaroid done to you? even the stupider fingerprint. he also looked somewhat perplexed on your answer. running a hand through his sweat filled hair, you could see how his pomade was beginning to fail him. those perfect little strands falling on his forehead, he really was a pretty one.

"thought you said my apartment sucks?" he sneered out with a grin, walking over to you and eyeing where you were standing. beginning to think to himself, why on earth were you just looking at his wall art? you tongue your teeth as you ponder on how to back yourself up, "change of heart." you say with a shrug, fully turning your body to him with a weakened grin. "you're so fucking weird." he chuckled out before standing right in front of you, you really couldn't ever get tired of that sight. especially with how he looked right now. his freckled shoulders with the sun-kissed tone. how you could see how dark his eyelashes were from how sweaty he was. really was a sight to behold. "you hang out with me, so what does that say about you?" you shoot back, making him force a pained expression sarcastically. closing his eyes tightly to be dramatic with a wince, "mean too..." sneakily opening up one eye to peek at you with a chuckle before shaking off his expression. "anyways, i gotta hop in the shower." he adds on.

with that, it was as if something overtook you. not exactly sure as to what it was. but you were thinking about him. all day. now seeing all of this in front of you, it was basically a gift. "wait-" you choke out, a bit too dramatically for your own taste but. whatever. he looked to you with a hint of confusion, but also curiosity. "what's with um." you sigh and point over to the polaroid, and look back to him and stick your hands in your pockets to appear more on ease. even if you were the complete opposite. "the uh. picture." you end with, clearing your throat. his eyebrow tilted up and looked to the polaroid, "nice night." he sighed out, his tone a bit more softer. which was surprising considering how he normally spoke. "you didn't notice the gundam poster? just that?" he snickered out, going right back to his normal personality.

"yeah. i saw the- all the nerd shit." you mutter softly, a bit defeated with his reply. you wanted something more. just something to explain the weird gut feeling you had. "i think it's a nice set up." he replied rather quickly, as if he was trying to convince himself of something. you just couldn't tell yet. "you fit well with all my other favorite things so." he adds on hesitantly, looking into your eyes with a slight grin. hoping to anything that could hear him that he wasn't sounding stupid in this moment. you felt the weight lift off of you, as if it was some burden stuck in your chest. without a second thought, you rose your hand to his bicep. just letting it rest there, watching as his eyes followed your hands. suddenly, a quiet beeping could be heard. you cocked a brow as you looked around the room to find out where it was located. ted quickly looked down in embarrassment to his apple watch and smacked it quiet.

your hand left his bicep before you looked back into his eyes with confusion, "what was that?" you question him. he nervously chuckled and shook his head as he tapped his apple watch's screen off. "just- stupid glitch." he stifled out, waving his arm back down to his side. you slowly nod and narrow your eyes at him, not really understanding quite what the hell that could've been. what if it was some other girl trying to get a hold of him? that was the last thing you wanted to know right now. especially in this moment. "well, get it fixed." you state as you raise your hand to rest on his bicep again. you didn't know how to send the right signal, so you were hoping this was gonna do the job. he looked down at you with a grin, his eyes softening as he watched your expression.

then, there it was again. the beeping. now the creeping thought of another girl trying to reach him was settling further into your brain. it had to have been. you remove your hand once again and look down to his watch, but before you could get a good view of what it was. ted quickly pulled it away, tapping away the beeping. "seriously, what is that?" you questioned further. ted's face only growing more nervous, shaking the watch on his wrist. "it's just being stupid." he stammered out, but as he brought up the watch. the screen lit up again. you finally saw what it was. "why is your heart bpm 102?" you ask with concern, which quickly made him pull away his hand and back to his side. "i worked out, remember?" he nervously chuckled out. hoping you'd buy it.

you didn't. you knew there was something hidden under his tongue. you look to him in silence for a moment and look to his arm and back to his eyes. contemplating on what your next plan of action would be. you quickly raise your hand back up and let it rest on his collarbone, immediately feeling as his chest tightened. "you're being silly, yknow tha-" ted tries to explain, but is interrupted by his watch. yet again. your eyes widen and look down to his watch, his heart rate was through the roof. "shit." he sighs out, tapping away the incessant beeping. he knew was in deep shit now, he couldn't play the nonchalant card any longer. you eyed him as you could see the embarrassment filling his face. "stupid watch." he says before sliding it off with a groan. immediately reaching his hands on either side of your head and pushing his lips onto yours. making your balance falter, causing the two of you to crash onto the wall as he hungrily kissed you.

it happened so quickly. what was in the air today? was it his workout? all you knew in this moment was how sweet he tasted, oddly enough. he pulled his lips off of yours, still keeping his hands wrapped on both sides of your head to keep you tightly in his grasp. "this what you wanted?" he breathily stated, his fast movements catching up to him. "you knew that already." you choke out, lightly licking the moisture off your lips. "and you didn't know you made my heart do that by now? bullshit." he stifled out before mashing his lips onto the crook of your neck, dropping his hands down to your breasts. giving them a tight squeeze as he bit down gently on your neck. "keep coming around me and i might have a heart attack." he groans as he muffles through your skin. as odd as the sentence, it kind of made the goosebumps on your skin raise. you had that effect on him?

you closed your eyes due to the ecstasy, quickly wrapping your hands to his back to pull him in closer. you guys have slept together a couple times but something about this felt so different. as if there was hunger bridled into it. you backed your head into the wall, feeling the soft canvas of a painting on the back of your head. hoping you wouldn't cause anything to fall, especially the polaroid. he was quick to pull up your shirt, itching to feel how your skin felt under his hands. the second he knew your skin was exposed he dropped to one knee to better focus his lips on the area. the size difference was making you ready to just pass out. his hands roaming on your hips to stabilize himself better, his soft lips landing on your breasts as he smothered them with deep sloppy kisses. you moved your hand to your shirt to just throw it off, giving him a full view of what he desperately wanted.

"can't believe you trash this." he groans into your skin, letting his hands crawl up your skin to squeeze the bottom of your tits. getting a good handful before sucking down. the sudden shock throwing your balance off once again, but he was ready. grabbing your ass to keep you steady. it was almost annoying of how much he knew. how much he worked on 'perfecting his craft.' you suddenly felt his tongue slip up and all around your breast, sending a shock down your body. it was so messy but it was so worth it. seems it always was when it was him. "you waited here all day for this?" he stops himself to say, looking up into your eyes. "and be honest about it." he breathily states. you look down to him, a bit bummed that he stopped.

"i just want you." you reply, knowing just how pathetic you sounded in the moment. you could almost see his ego grow as you said it too, his stupid smile as he took it in. "glad you held your promise then." he chuckles before mashing his lips back to your breasts, licking up and around your nipple. "reasons why i have you on my favorites wall." he groans into your skin, gripping harder around the edges of your breast. every word he spoke made your spine shake, this was the answer you were pleading for. on top of the electricity he was putting into your body, this was all you could've ever begged for. you grabbed the edge of his chin to bring him up, making him trip and fall onto you. looking you into the eyes as he stabilized him by grabbing onto the wall, "just say it again." he practically whispered. "i just want you." you reply almost instantly, making him slyly grin. "i can arrange that." he chuckles out before mashing his lips back onto yours.

author's note : sorry for the small hiatus !! also holy shit i didn't know how different i write for ted. 😭 butttt !! i hope you enjoy, and i am pleased to tell you i am FINALLY back home and able to write to my hearts contents. gonna be working on submissions all night !! :> thank you all for the sweet messages and patience with lil ol me. you all are SEWWWW KIND !!!

[mx-paradox]

Temptation Through the Screen {Shidou Ryusei x Itoshi Sae x Reader}

Sae wins his away game, so you send him a video as a celebratory present...

Minors Do Not Interact, explicit smut, reader has no gendered terms used but they do use a strap-on, sex tape/sex video, pegging, bottom shidou, top reader, masturbation (sae), light spanking, established relationship, mostly me just being kinda horny for shidou's ass tbh. word count: 1500. | Ao3 version

Sae has learned to be cautious opening any messages from you or Ryusei when in public. Which is why when he sees a notification pop up while he's finishing up his post-game routine in the locker room (a simple video link and a 'congrats on the win' with a heart emoji) he quite firmly ignores it.

His phone stays shoved into the pocket of his track pants until he is back at his hotel. He resolutely keeps his mind off it for as long as possible, until he is finally changed and lying in the hotel bed.

It's late. He could just go straight to sleep. His routine was disturbed and he wasn't able to take his nap today, so he is more tired than usual. He should just go to bed.

He sighs and opens up his messages.

(It disgusts him, how the two of you have such control over him.)

The video opens in selfie mode, showcasing your smug smirk from an angle that should not be as flattering as it is. Sae's attention is drawn to your rumpled shirt and bitten lips.

"Hello, Sae my love," you coo, smile widening. "We miss you a whole lot, so we're watching your game together. Isn't that sweet?"

The camera flips to showcase the TV, where Sae's game is being broadcast. The view slowly pans down, and Sae sees the back of Ryusei's head, hair loose and mussed; the perfect arch of his muscular back, tan skin dotted with mouth-sized bruises and claw marks (some of which, Sae can remember giving him). Down Ryusei's spine the camera trails, until it reaches the curve of his ass.

Sae's breath catches.

You stop your panning when you have a perfect focus on Ryusei's thick, muscular ass where it is pillowed against the cradle of your hips. You move your pelvis back by a few inches, revealing the hot pink strap you had buried to the hilt in his hole.

Sae lets out a sound, just as Ryusei whines in the video.

Sae clicks the volume button up.

Your fingers creep down, spreading Ryusei's cheeks apart to show how his lube-slick hole is fluttering and clenching around your dick.

Sae's cock twitches in his boxers. He can't keep his hand from drifting down, squeezing at his bulge to relieve some of the pressure.

It's no secret that Sae is an ass man, especially when it comes to his lovers; lovers who sadly know of his weakness, and exploit it at every opportunity.

Case in point, Sae can hear you laughing. "Are you touching yourself now, Sae baby?" you croon. You bring your hand up to lightly slap Ryusei's ass, and Sae bites down on the inside of his cheek as he watches the soft flesh ripple and flush with the impact.

You start to move your hips again, not thrusting but just grinding your strap inside of Ryusei, pressing down directly on the spot that makes him let out pornstar-lewd moans.

"Doesn't he sound pretty? All for you~" you tease. "Isn't that right, Ryu?"

"Myeah—fuck—all so Sae-chan can blow his load thinking of us," replies Ryusei, his voice a low purr. Sae can't see, but he has no doubt the demon has a lust-drunk grin on his face. He can picture the flush on his cheeks and the way his eyes roll when you hit a particularly good angle inside of him.

Sae's hand is inside his boxers now. Precum already slicks each slow stroke of his hand up and down his cock. It's been too long since he's fucked either of you; he's regressed back to horny teen boy levels of sensitivity. It's humiliating, that he's become so dependent on the two of you. Tellingly, however, the thought doesn't unsettle him enough to break his attention from the video.

You pick up the pace, properly thrusting into Ryusei's tight ass. The camera shudders a bit, before you use your other hand to anchor yourself better on his hip. Your nails bite into the tan flesh, leaving ivory white crescent marks under your grasp. Your strap flashes pink every time it leaves the clenching grip of Ryusei's hole, and the impact of your hips every time you bury yourself fully inside of him echoes with a loud slap through Sae's phone speaker.

Ryusei's cries are increasing in pitch, becoming filthier with each pump of your cock into him. Sae can hear your breathing picking up as well, soft huffs that make Sae shiver from memories of that same breath ghosting against his neck as you took him from behind with that same strap. Sae's hand picks up speed, moving almost unconsciously on his throbbing cock.

"Only a few minutes left—unh—on your game," you say, pausing your thrusts. Ryusei vocally protests, pushing his hips back onto you in an attempt to fuck himself on your dick. You click your tongue, before pulling out completely.

"What the fuck," he whines. "I was about to come!" One hand reaches behind him blindly, pawing around to try and grab the strap. You pin his hand to the small of his back, squeezing his wrist firmly.

Your voice is harsh, and just a little mocking. "Be a good boy. I told you to wait until Sae wins."

Sae can hear Ryusei's pout over the video. "C'mon, baby, we know he's gonna win, cause Sae-chan's the best, so just hurry up and fuck me already—"

He's cut off by another slap to his ass. "Shush. Wait just a minute, horny demon."

You grip the base of your strap, before teasingly circling the head of it around Ryusei's twitching hole as he begs for it.

Sae is transfixed. Ryusei's rim looks so soft and loose; if Sae was there, he would slip a few fingers in, just to feel Ryusei clench around them as his greedy hole tries to suck them in. He wishes he were there, he wishes he could dig his nails into the plush flesh of Ryusei's ass right where it was sore and flushed from your slaps. He wishes he could press against your back and grind his dripping cock between your thighs. He wants you both so badly, it itches beneath his skin. The video just isn't enough to fully sate him. He feels as if he is losing himself.

Something must change in the game; Sae can't even remember what happened at this point, and it doesn't matter when compared to what he sees on his screen. But something must have occurred, because with no warning, you slam back into Ryusei.

"You're gonna score, Sae," you breathe. "Last two minutes. I see you setting it up."

You don't speak any more, instead choosing to focus on driving your dick into Ryusei, over and over, with enough force to jolt him forward and make his ass clap every time it meets your pelvis.

Sae is so close. He rubs his thumb under the head of his cock, making his toes curl into the bed sheets.

"Gonna come—gonna come—please—please—want it so bad—please," Ryusei begs, voice breaking. "Make me come on your cock—please—"

The faint sound of cheering from the television can temporarily be heard over the sounds of sex.

"Congrats on the win, Sae," you murmur. Your hand reaches out of view to jack Ryusei's off roughly. "Come for him, Ryu~"

He cries out, shuddering as you fuck and jerk him through his orgasm. The camera is cast aside for a moment, and Sae is left with only Ryusei's debauched moans and his imagination. His cock throbs. He's so close to coming he can taste it at the back of his throat.

You pick up the camera again. Sae can feel his heartbeat thundering through every part of his body. Every extremity is electric with anticipation.

The camera is back in selfie mode, faced towards you again. Your eyes are dark with lust; your gaze makes Sae shiver. You blow the camera a cheeky kiss before bringing your hand up. You show how it's completely dripping with Ryusei's thick white come. Then, you stare dead into the camera as you stick out your soft pink tongue and lap his come up from your fingers.

Sae orgasms on the spot. It tingles deliciously through his system, sparking fireworks in his eyelids as he creams his boxers.

When he comes back to himself, he blinks blearily before focusing back in on the video, loathe to miss anything.

You have Ryusei by the hair, pulling his head close to yours and making his back curve into an incredible arch. His eyeliner is smudged with tears, his eyes hazy and warm with lingering arousal. He smiles dumbly at the camera. He looks wrecked. The sight makes Sae's spent dick twitch.

Ryusei's voice is dripping thickly with lust and love. "I love you Sae-chan~"

"I love you too, Sae baby," you say. "Hope you enjoyed~"

The video clicks off, after just a glimpse of you pulling Ryusei into a sloppy kiss.

Sae leans back, phone slipping out of his hand as he flops onto the bed. He stares at the ceiling for a moment.

He's still horny. The itch underneath his skin (his desire for his lovers) has only been exacerbated.

Fucking damn it.

He needs more of you both.

Sae reaches for his phone again and hits the 'call' button.

[ferrstappen]

max the wag: caught in the middle l mv1

a/n: so... this isn't the best part of the series but I saw this post on instagram last week and just couldn't resist! hope you enjoy it <3 x

pairing: Max Verstappen x fem reader

genre: fluff

you can find the rest of max the wag here <3

summary: You find Max on a WAGs Instagram page, just not how you'd imagine.

Mexico Grand Prix, 2023

The only time you left the energy station during race weekends was when Max was crowned the winner of the Grand Prix, making your usual route the back entrance, energy station, parc fermé and then, if people were lucky, would catch a glimpse of Max and you leaving hand in hand, big smiles on your faces even if you always tried to keep your head down.

Sure, this wasn’t always the easiest for you, wanting to be there with Max most time, but in the early stages of your relationship when you first attended a Grind Prix as his girlfriend, you told Max it wasn’t an interest of yours to be known or to have your face plastered on Instagram profiles. Of course, it was inevitable, but both you and Max tried your best to make it work, even if it meant Max would have to begrudgingly answer a question about the relationship to the fans so they wouldn’t start speculating.

Max even made an effort to stop F1TV from broadcasting you, and it cost him an app exclusive interview. 

This never worked to ease the break up rumors always emerging. You were able to put the latest one to rest during Qatar where you were waiting with your arms wide open when he was crowned champion, shortly kissing his lips and forehead during the commotion, everyone trying to get a hold of him. 

Of course, that was the highlight of the weekend even if Max didn’t win the race, but a close second was the appearance of a new WAG, a gossip both you and Max had closely followed since pretty much the beginning of the season, but you never crossed paths with her and were only aware of the confirmation when you were back in the hotel.

Now, you were mindlessly scrolling through Instagram posts, getting ready to watch the race in your apartment in Monaco with Jimmy and Sassy, the F1 app playing on the iPad screen, when a particular post caught your attention. 

It was Max, completely clueless of what was going on behind him: Rebecca and Carlos were easy to spot, absolutely not trying to hide, happy smiles and not trying to hide. 

You didn’t notice the F1 transmission was focusing on Max inside the garage, but the first thing you did was send the post to Max.

MAX BABE, YOU RUINED THE SHOT!!!

The camera kept following Max as he checked his phone for the last time, and this time you were thankful for it since you were able to check his every facial expression as he opened the message. 

What am I looking at, schatz? A terrible picture of me before the race??

Are you trying to help Lando win??

The transmission showed how GP approached Max to go over the strategy, forcing Max to hand over his phone before seeing your answers. 

Babe, she’s Carlos gf! Remember back in Barcelona when we weren’t sure if it was true? WELL IT IS

IT’S THEM IN THE BACK!!!

The gossip was soon forgotten was you watched Max win once again, texting your congratulations while pointing at Max in the TV for Jimmy and Sassy to see, even if you could sense their judgement.

Right after the podium ended the phone vibrated, your favorite part of race day when you weren’t able to be with Max, was the mandatory FaceTime call, showing you his trophy, completely soaked in champagne, giving you his best smile. 

“Congratulations honey! You were incredible, it was a great race, I’m sure you enjoyed it!” You animatedly said to him while wearing one of your own Red Bull jersey with his number on it. 

“Yes, yes… so, did he really cheat on his ex?” Max asked and you gave him a confused look.

“What are you talking about?”

Max stared at your face in the screen, giving you a look of disbelief. “Carlos! You sent me that post of that horrible picture with them in the back,”

Now that you were caught up, it was impossible not to appreciate your boyfriend right now, with his blue eyes wide open, still holding his trophy, but waiting to be updated on whatever was going on outside the track. “I have no idea if he cheated, you were the one who overheard the Ferrari mechanics!”

“But you are the WAG, schatz!” Max argued. 

You scoffed. “Yes, and I am the worst WAG ever and you know that!”

“Don’t say that about yourself, there’s nothing wrong about wanting to keep your privacy,” Max reassured you, like he always did. 

“Maybe I can put on a show next week and try to find out what people know…” You said to yourself. 

“I’m sure Charles’ ex knows… what was her name?” Max asked you while trying his best to remember. 

You chuckled before answering. “Charlotte, baby,” you replied and he nodded his head as if he was trying to tell you he always knew, it just slipped his mind. “and yeah, I’m sure she knows but I don’t want to talk to her just to interrogate her, you know? Maybe,” you were going to continue before Max interrupted.

“Schatz, I have to go but I swear I’ll figure out who may know more about this, okay? I love you, can’t wait to see you,”

You hurriedly said an “I love you” before the call ended, knowing Max was going to do his best to gather information he’d be waiting to share once you reunited in Brazil. And maybe, just maybe, you’d consider arrive to the track walking hand in hand, kissing his cheek for good luck, for everyone to see. 

[cha0s-junkie]

platonic yandere! couple x reader

context, yandere purge. yans have to send a letter to the darlings they wanna kidnap. @/yanderemommabean for credits because she created the concept.

--

You had been receiving letters from your stalkers.

You took another shaky breath as you stared at the crumpled up pieces of paper that was the letters that was sent by your yanderes. It was eerie and chilling, the way that they wrote about you. In their eyes you were their precious little child, a pure thing that deserved to be saved from a society that sought to corrupt you.

It was disgusting.

You flinched, the sirens were loud and staticky as the message came over.

"This is not a test, this is your Emergency Broadcast System. Announcing the commencement of the annual purge. Commencing at the siren, any and all crime will be legal for 12 continuous hours, May God be with you all. "

The announcement blared through the streets as chaos erupted, the sirens adding to the chaos. You wouldn't be nervous by it usually but this time, it was you that was being hunted. You took your bag and slung it over your shoulders. You didn't want to be another statistic, another darling that fell into the arms of their Yandere.

Now, whatever happens next was your fault. You hadn't prepared for anything like this, you hadn't followed any government-issued tips about how to escape or even how to hide the best way possible. You were about to leave, with a trembling hand you opened the door. Maybe you hadn't heard the footsteps outside your door, or the excitement filled conversation they were having outside.

But they were there.

Right in front of your doorstep, your 'Father' and 'Mother' as they so claimed.

"Oh," She steps forward first, her perfectly manicured hands cups your face, squishing your cheeks together. "Oh you're perfect, aren't they , sweetheart?"

The man that stood behind her was a full head taller than her, towering over both you and the cooing woman. He nodded, a hand resting on her shoulder as he leaned over. You jerked back, the couple's presence are suffocating. God, their letter did them no justice.

They were worse in person.

"G-Get out, right now. I'm not going with you." It was hard to control your voice, you hadn't expected them to come so early so they threw you off guard.

To them, you were just a scared child. They watched as you struggled to grip your metal bat in your hand, trying to defend yourself from them. It just tugged on their heartstrings, it was hard not to just scoop you up into their arms and give you the life that you deserved. Living in this dump was not something that a child of theirs deserved.

"It's alright, honey, you don't have to be scared." The woman started, the same cooing voice that she had as she moved closer to you. Closing the space between you and her, the space that gave you some sense of an upper hand, when both you and her knew that didn't exist.

"We're going to take you home," She took a step closer, you took a step back. "And we're going to make the perfect little family, hm? C'mon, enough playing."

"I'm not fucking playing, go away." You hadn't realized how scared you would be, being face to face with your stalkers. The ones that had been stalking you for literal months, having noted that in the letters. Describing how and when they had decided that you were the perfect addition to their family.

The man that stood behind her who was effectively blocked your only way of escape. It added to the hoplessness of your situation. You glared at them both, your bat still keeping a safe distance between you and your kidnappers.

"P-Please," Your voice was now soft, as you changed your harsh tone. "I-I didn't- I don't want this."

"You don't know what you want, honey. You need your mommy and daddy, and we're here to provide."

She moved to the side, allowing her husband to take control of the situation. His smile soft and paternal as he takes the bat from your hand, his hand envelops yours as he drops the metal bat next to him with a loud clang.

His eyes hadn't left yours. It was loving and adoring, you were truly his child. He scooped you up, carrying you so that your head was laying against his chest.

–

"Why me?"

Your voice was hoarse. You had cried almost the entire way back to their place. 'Our home.' as they kept calling it, it wasn't your home and it never would be. But for now, it was a place you had to be in. Making you change into an expensive pair of pajamas that was your perfect size.

Unsettling. But nonetheless comfortable. Now you were in 'your' bed being tucked in by the woman. She had a soft, maternal smile as she happily tended to you.

"Why not you, sweetheart? You are perfect, a perfect addition."

You could only stare at her. So she was delusional. Picking you of all people to destroy a life. Just because they wanted a kid, when you weren't even a kid.

"Now, I have a little gift for you. So that your room can feel more like yours, c'mon close your eyes." She's giddy now. You look at her  for a brief moment not trusting her.

"Close 'em!" She giggled. You sighed and played into it hoping that she would leave whatever she brought and just left you alone. You hear shuffling before she taps your shoulder.

"Ta daa!" She exclaims. You open your eyes and in her hands she held your favorite stuffed toy. The one that you slept with every night. You took it from her and let out a shaky breath.

"Thanks." You muttered, hugging it to your chest. "Ah, thank you...?"

Just say it. Say it so that she'll leave you alone. Through gritted teeth, you call her what she had been begging you to call her the entire time you were with them. "Thank you, mom."

She gushes, planting a kiss to your forehead. "That's what I like to hear, now go to bed. It's way past your bedtime."

You couldn't get any sleep, even if you were cuddling something that you were familiar with. The room was so eerie, you didn't know if they were watching you through any hidden cameras that were in your room.

So being woken up early in the morning wasn't exactly fun.

You groaned as the curtains to your room was slid open. "Close itttt."

"Nooo, my baby needs to wake upppp." The voice teases. It was deep. A small part of you was grateful it wasn't her. You turn your head to glare at him and he returns your glare with a playful smile.

"It's not good for you to sleep all day." He moves to your bed, too tired to move you watched as he sat next to you. "Up and at 'em, your mom's making breakfast for you, all special for your first day with us."

"Not my mom." You remind him but he agrees with you like you were a petulant child. "Sure, honey. C'mon you must be hungry."

That was true. But you didn't want to give in so you bury your face into your pillows again, tucking yourself deeper into your blanket.

"Alright, you asked for it." You tense not knowing what he meant, then you feel his arms wrap around you and lift you into his arms. You yelped in shock as he cradled you to his chest. You felt more like a baby as he had carried you with your blanket still wrapped around you.

"Aw, how cute. You're truly my baby now, hm?" Fuck no. You start to struggle, his arms pinning you in place.

"Okay!- Okay, I'm sorry let me go. Lemme walk myself, please-"

"Nope, too late. You asked for it." You groaned loudly as he walked down a long hallway and into a giant dining area.

"An eventful morning?" She asks, noticing you bundled up in his arms. You wanted to die then and there.

[favefandomimagines]

Delta Dawn (j.b)

Summary: Joe and his girlfriend going through the motions of a season apart OR when Joe is dating a Dallas Cowboys cheerleader

AN: I hope this is what you were looking for!! No angst, just fluff! @evasmlp

Sunday mornings always felt bittersweet. For Joe, it meant game day—a day he had been preparing for all week. For Y/N, it was another chance to step onto the field at AT&T Stadium, perform with the Cowboys Cheerleaders, and soak in the electric energy of a packed stadium.

But it also meant another day apart.

Joe woke up early, his routine down to a science—breakfast, team meetings, treatment, mental preparation. Yet, no matter how focused he was, Y/N was always on his mind.

Some mornings, if he had a quiet moment before heading to the stadium, he’d send her a simple text:

Game day. Go be great.

And without fail, her reply would come moments later.

You too, 9. I’ll be cheering extra loud for you.

Sometimes, if their schedules aligned just right, they’d sneak in a quick call.

“Are you nervous?” Y/N asked one Sunday morning, sitting in front of her locker. It was a home game for the Cowboys and Y/N was in Dallas for Sunday Night Football, while Joe was in Cincinnati, gearing up for his own matchup at 2pm.

Joe chuckled, rubbing a hand over his face. “I don’t really get nervous anymore.”

She smirked. “Must be nice. I still get butterflies before every game.”

“I think that’s a good thing,” he said. “Means you care.”

“Then I must care a lot,” she teased, making him laugh.

They didn’t have long before they both had to go, but these little moments—these stolen minutes before the chaos of game day—meant everything.

By the time Y/N finished her pregame appearances and got ready for kickoff, Joe was already on the field, locked in. But she always found a moment to check the scoreboard in the tunnels, looking for updates on the Bengals game.

Her teammates knew the drill.

“How’s your boy doing?” one of them, Natalie, asked during a timeout.

Y/N glanced at her phone, a small smile spreading across her lips. “Bengals are up. He just threw a touchdown.”

Natalie nudged her playfully. “You know, they only show the Bengals games in the tunnels for you.”

She wasn’t wrong. Y/N was the only one who cared.

Meanwhile, Joe’s game wrapped up a couple hours before the Cowboys’ Sunday Night Football matchup, giving him a rare chance to unwind—and to do his favorite postgame ritual.

Watch her.

He sat in the locker room, still sweaty from the game, as the Cowboys broadcast played on his phone. His teammates were filing out, heading home, but he stayed put, waiting.

And then, there she was.

Dressed in the iconic Cowboys uniform, pom-poms in hand, moving with the kind of effortless grace that left him completely mesmerized.

He couldn’t hear the music, but it didn’t matter. He’d watched her practice enough times to know exactly what was happening.

A soft smile tugged at his lips as he sent her a text:

You kill it out there every time. I’m so damn proud of you.

Y/N checked her phone during halftime, her breath hitching when she saw his message.

Coming from my favorite quarterback? That means the world.

It wasn’t the same as being there in person, but in that moment, it didn’t matter.

No matter where they were—whether he was leading a team into battle or she was performing under stadium lights—they were always cheering for each other.

||

The hardest part wasn’t Sundays. It was the in-between.

The days when neither of them had a game, but they still couldn’t see each other. The nights when Joe was watching film in Cincinnati while Y/N was perfecting routines in Dallas. The mornings when they woke up in different cities, different time zones, with nothing but a phone call to close the gap between them.

There were weeks when their schedules barely aligned. If Joe had a Thursday night game, his entire week shifted. If the Cowboys had an away game, it always seemed to be when the Bengals had an away game and Y/N couldn’t get on a plane to see him.

They had been together long enough to know how to handle the distance, but that didn’t mean it was easy.

They learned to appreciate the small moments—the voice notes sent between meetings, the texts exchanged between workouts, the blurry photos of pregame rituals that made them feel like they were still part of each other’s lives, even from miles away.

Some nights, when the loneliness crept in, Joe would send Y/N a simple text.

Miss you. ❤️

And her response was always immediate.

Miss you more. ❤️

If they were lucky, they’d squeeze in a Facetime call.

One night, Joe propped his phone against the nightstand, his hair still damp from a post-practice shower, exhaustion heavy in his voice. “Tell me something good.”

Y/N flopped onto her bed, arms sprawled out, her propping her phone up against a pillow. “I got to work with some of the rookies today. It was fun seeing them fall in love with this, you know?”

Joe smiled. He knew that feeling well—watching new teammates experience their first taste of the NFL, the way it lit a fire in them. “I bet they love you.”

“I don’t know about that,” she laughed, “but I think they’re getting used to me bossing them around.”

He chuckled. “Sounds about right. I know I got used to it pretty fast.”

Y/N laughed at his words and rolled her eyes playfully. “Yeah, well, you’re a quick learner.”

They talked until their eyes grew heavy, until the only sound was the quiet rhythm of their breathing through the phone.

Some nights, they fell asleep that way, their screens still glowing in the dark, neither willing to hang up first.

But sometimes, the distance hurt.

Like the time Y/N had a minor injury during practice—nothing serious, just a bad fall into a jump split that left her knee swollen. Joe was in the middle of a grueling week of preparation and couldn’t fly out to see her.

“I’m fine,” she reassured him over the phone, her voice tired but trying to be strong.

“I should be there,” he muttered, running a frustrated hand through his hair.

“You can’t. And that’s okay.”

He exhaled. “I just hate not being able to take care of you.”

“You do,” she promised. “Even from miles away.”

And then there were the moments when Joe had a rough game—when he was sacked five times, when the Bengals lost in overtime, when the weight of an entire city’s expectations sat heavy on his shoulders.

Y/N couldn’t be there to wrap her arms around him, to tell him that he was still the best quarterback she’d ever seen. Instead, she sent a text.

I love you. No bad game changes that.

Joe didn’t respond right away. But later that night, she got a voice memo.

"I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

And that was all she needed to hear.

Some people thought their relationship wouldn’t last. The schedules were too demanding. The time apart was too much.

But Joe and Y/N knew better.

They didn’t measure their love by how many days they spent together. They measured it by how hard they fought for each other, even when they were apart.

Because even with the distance, they had never been closer.

||

Joe's bye week couldn’t have come at a better time. After weeks of grueling games, brutal hits, and endless preparation, he finally had a weekend off—and there was only one place he wanted to be.

Dallas.

His flight landed late Friday night, and by the time he stepped off the plane, exhaustion clung to him. But the second he saw Y/N waiting for him just past security, all of that melted away.

She was standing there in one of his Bengals hoodies, her hair a little messy from the long day she’d had. But to him, she had never looked more beautiful.

As soon as he was close enough, she launched herself into his arms, and he caught her effortlessly, wrapping her up tight.

“I missed you,” she murmured against his neck.

Joe pressed a kiss to her temple, inhaling the scent of her shampoo. “Not as much as I missed you.”

She pulled back just enough to look at him, her hands sliding down to frame his face. “You look tired.”

He smirked. “And you look perfect.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the smile tugging at her lips. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

They only had 48 hours together before he had to return to Cincinnati, but neither of them wanted to think about that.

The next morning, Joe woke up to the smell of coffee and something sweet drifting from the kitchen. He groggily pulled himself out of bed, padding down the hallway to find Y/N standing at the stove, flipping pancakes.

He leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched her.

“You making me breakfast?”

She turned, smirking. “Figured I’d keep my boyfriend well-fed while I’ve got him here.”

He walked up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist, pressing a soft kiss to her shoulder. “I could get used to this.”

Her hands rested over his, squeezing gently. “Me too.”

The rest of the morning was slow and easy—just the way they liked it. Breakfast turned into lounging on the couch, watching whatever was on TV, legs tangled together under a blanket.

No alarms. No schedules. Just them.

Saturday night, Joe had one request.

“I want to see you dance,” he told her as they sat on her balcony, sipping wine, the Dallas skyline glittering in the distance.

She raised a brow. “You’ve seen me dance.”

“Not like this,” he said, setting his glass down. “Not in person. I’ve seen you perform in front of hundreds of thousands of people, and for auditions. Not just for me. You told me so much about that lyrical routine you did but you never showed me. I want to see it.”

Her heart melted at the sincerity in his voice. He always watched her on TV, always made time to see her perform from afar—but she knew what he meant.

So, she stood up, holding a hand out to him. “Come on, then.”

Joe let her lead him into the living room, where she grabbed her speaker and scrolled through her playlist.

When the familiar beat of a song she loved started playing, she didn’t hesitate.

She danced. The lyrical routine that quickly went viral on social media from her last round of auditions.

And Joe?

Joe just watched, completely entranced.

No cameras. No stadium. No roaring crowd. Just her, moving effortlessly, doing what she loved.

And damn, he loved her for it.

When the song ended, he shook his head, still in awe. “I don’t know how I got lucky enough to have you.”

Y/N walked over, looping her arms around his neck. “I ask myself the same thing every day.”

He leaned in, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to her lips.

“I don’t want to leave,” he admitted softly.

She rested her forehead against his. “I don’t want you to.”

But they both knew the reality of their lives. The goodbyes were inevitable.

Sunday evening came too fast.

Y/N drove Joe to the airport, their fingers laced together over the console the entire ride. When they pulled up to the terminal, she parked but didn’t move to let him go just yet.

Instead, she turned to him, her eyes holding a softness he always found himself getting lost in.

“You gonna win next week?” she teased, trying to keep things light, even as the sadness of their goodbye loomed over them.

Joe smirked. “Of course. I’ve got you to impress.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “You don’t have to impress me, Burrow. You already won me over.”

He reached for her, pulling her into one last kiss—slow and deep, like he was trying to make it last.

When they finally pulled away, he pressed his forehead against hers. “I love you.”

Y/N’s fingers curled into his hoodie, as if holding onto him could make him stay just a little longer. “I love you more.”

He kissed her one last time before grabbing his bag and stepping out of the car.

She watched him walk inside, waiting until he disappeared through the doors before finally driving away, already counting down the days until the next time she could hold him again.

||

The moment the NFL season ended, a familiar weight lifted off Joe’s shoulders. The intensity, the pressure, the long nights of film study and game prep—it all faded, at least for a little while. The offseason was a time to reset, to recover. But most importantly? It was their time.

For months, they had been living in separate worlds, their schedules only allowing for those stolen weekends and FaceTime calls. But now, for the first time in what felt like forever, Y/N could actually be with him—really be with him.

And this year, she had made a decision: she was spending most of the offseason in Cincinnati.

Joe didn’t try to hide his excitement when she told him.

"Seriously?" he had asked, gripping her waist as she straddled his lap on his couch, fresh off a plane from Dallas.

She nodded, running her fingers through his hair. "Seriously. I cleared it with my coaches, and I’ll fly back when I need to for practices, but other than that…" She leaned in, brushing her lips against his. "I’m all yours, Burrow."

Joe groaned, wrapping his arms around her and flipping them so she was pinned beneath him. "Best news I’ve heard all year."

She laughed, tugging him down into another kiss.

It wasn’t just the fact that they’d be together—it was that they’d finally get to live like a normal couple, without the constant countdown to their next goodbye.

Y/N had her own place in Dallas, but in Cincinnati, she stayed with Joe. His house felt too big when he was alone, and having her there made it feel like home.

Mornings were slow and easy. She loved waking up to the scent of coffee brewing in the kitchen, padding downstairs in one of his oversized hoodies to find Joe already up, flipping through ESPN on the couch.

“Morning, superstar,” she teased, pressing a kiss to the top of his head before curling up beside him.

He hummed, wrapping an arm around her. “Morning, baby.”

Some days, they stayed in, binge-watching shows they never had time for during the season. Other days, they went out—grabbing brunch, walking around the city, just enjoying the fact that, for once, they had nowhere else to be.

And of course, Joe still had workouts. Just because it was the offseason didn’t mean he stopped training. But now, instead of heading off to practice alone, he had Y/N there to keep him company.

She’d sit on the sidelines while he threw passes to his receivers, dressed in leggings and a Bengals hoodie, her hair in a messy bun.

Sometimes, he’d jog over during water breaks, tapping her knee with his gloved hand. “You enjoying the show?”

She smirked. “Depends. You gonna throw a touchdown, or should I start looking for a new favorite quarterback?”

Joe scoffed. “Unbelievable.”

She just winked. “I call it motivation.”

And it worked.

After practice, he’d find her waiting outside the facility, arms crossed, a playful glint in her eye.

“You looked good out there, Burrow,” she admitted, looping her arms around his neck.

He smirked. “Yeah? Good enough to be your favorite?”

She leaned in, lips brushing against his ear. “Always.”

Even though the NFL season was over, Y/N’s work never really stopped. As a Cowboys Cheerleader, she still had appearances, community events, and—most importantly—auditions for the next season.

Joe knew how much it meant to her.

“You nervous?” he asked one night, as she stretched on the floor of his living room, getting ready for another round of training before flying back to Dallas for auditions.

Y/N sighed, lying back on the rug. “Always. It doesn’t matter how many times I do it, I still feel like I have to prove myself all over again.”

Joe slid off the couch, lying down beside her, their heads almost touching. “You’re gonna kill it.”

She turned her head, meeting his gaze. “You think so?”

“I know so.” He reached over, lacing his fingers with hers. “You’ve been working your ass off. And even if they don’t see it—which they will—you’ll always be my favorite.”

She squeezed his hand. “You really are my biggest fan, huh?”

He grinned. “Damn right.”

When she flew back to Dallas for auditions, Joe made sure she knew he was thinking about her.

The morning of the final round, she woke up to a text.

Go show them why you belong out there. No one does it better than you. Love you.

She smiled, clutching her phone to her chest before getting out of bed.

After her audition, she FaceTimed him from her hotel room, bouncing on her heels.

“I made it,” she squealed.

Joe let out a relieved breath, grinning. “Of course you did.”

“I wish you were here,” she admitted, her voice softer now.

He sighed. “Me too. But I’m taking you to dinner as soon as you get back to celebrate.”

She smirked. “You cooking for me?”

Joe chuckled. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, babe.”

With no games and fewer obligations, they finally had time to just be a couple.

They took trips together—spending a few days in Montana, escaping to a quiet cabin in the mountains where no one recognized them. Joe taught Y/N how to fish (she was terrible), and she taught him how to two-step in the living room (he was worse).

They went to the beach, Joe watching in amusement as Y/N tried (and failed) to teach him how to surf.

“I think I’ll stick to football,” he decided, spitting out a mouthful of salt water.

Y/N laughed, helping him up. “Probably a good idea, baby.”

But some of their favorite moments were the simple ones.

Like late-night drives with the windows down, singing along to country music. Or lazy Sunday mornings, tangled up in bed with no alarms to wake them.

For once, there was no rush. No looming deadline. Just them, soaking in every moment.

Because they both knew it wouldn’t last forever.

Soon, training camp would start back up. Soon, they’d be back to their whirlwind schedules, the countdown to football Sundays beginning all over again.

But for now?

For now, they had each other.

And that was all they needed.

[cantfindadecentalias]

"Breaking News"

It started with a slight flicker, so small that no one would notice it unless they were looking. But no one ever did. Every night at Global Network News, the broadcast would open with the same polished professionalism: smiling anchors, the gleam of expensive sets, the hum of urgent, breaking news. The faces behind the desk—bright, engaging women—delivered the day’s events with poised clarity. No one in the audience could have guessed that they weren’t in control of their own words anymore.

Alison McNeil, the blonde lead anchor, had been with GNN for over a decade. Her presence commanded attention; she had the charisma of someone who could hold a room in silence without saying a word. But lately, there had been whispers behind the scenes. Production assistants noticed her demeanor changing, almost imperceptibly at first. She had always been fierce in her editorial decisions, pushing back against sensationalism and refusing to be a puppet for corporate interests. But now? Now she simply nodded, smiled, and read the prompter without protest, no matter the message. It was as if something had switched off inside her.

It wasn’t just Alison. The entire newsroom had felt it. Reporters and anchors who once brought fire to the stories they pursued seemed to be drifting, detached, smiling when they shouldn’t, eyes distant. The network’s top journalists were women—strong, brilliant, and independent. But now, they seemed unnervingly... compliant.

Katie, a junior reporter, had noticed it too. She hadn’t been in the industry long, but something felt off. It wasn’t the stories themselves—those were still hard-hitting, still leading the ratings—but there was a slickness now, a subtle, glossy uniformity to the way the news was being reported. The sharp edges had been softened. The passion, the unpredictability, had dulled. The anchors all had the same soft, unwavering tone. The same fixed, unblinking smiles.

The change had come a few months ago when the network had undergone a mysterious rebranding. New ownership, they said. New technology in the control rooms, new state-of-the-art equipment. They’d even revamped the prompter system—smoother, faster, easier for the talent to read. The female anchors were at the heart of this relaunch, their faces now featured on billboards across the city. The audience grew. Viewership skyrocketed. But beneath the surface, something far darker was at play.

Katie had stayed late one night, prepping for an early morning segment, when she heard the strange hum. It came from the tech room—a low, droning sound, rhythmic and almost hypnotic. Curiosity piqued, she slipped down the hall, pushing open the door just a crack. Inside, she saw a series of monitors. On one screen, the image of Alison McNeil's face, perfectly still, was framed in eerie green light. Her lips were slightly parted, her eyes glazed over. Behind her, a technician was muttering commands into a small microphone.

Katie's heart raced. She watched in disbelief as the technician, a young man she'd never seen before, adjusted the audio levels. "Alison, repeat after me: You will follow the script exactly. You will smile. You will deliver the news. You will not question the narrative."

Alison's lips moved mechanically, repeating the words in an empty, monotone voice. The control room was bathed in the soft glow of technology—sleek machines, humming, sending their signals to the anchors’ earpieces during every live broadcast. The voices they heard in their heads weren’t just instructions for the next segment—they were commands. Subtle, undeniable, and inescapable.

Katie pulled back from the door, her breath shallow. She had heard rumors—whispers about the rebranding, the new technology. The anchors' sudden shift in behavior. And now, it was clear. They weren’t just reporting the news anymore. They were being controlled, their minds rewritten with every segment, reshaping how they thought, how they spoke, how they obeyed.

The next morning, Katie watched as Alison took her place behind the desk. Her eyes were bright, her smile warm, but there was nothing behind it. Her voice was smooth, confident, as she delivered the day’s top headlines. But Katie could see it now—the stiffness, the slight delay before Alison spoke, as if waiting for a cue only she could hear. The same unsettling calm had spread across the newsroom, affecting every woman behind the camera and in front of it.

And the viewers? They adored it. Ratings had never been higher. No one questioned the sudden uniformity, the flawless broadcasts, the way each story seemed to fit into a seamless narrative.

GNN had become more than a network. It was now a tool, a finely tuned machine, shaping not just the news, but the minds of those who watched—and those who delivered it. The anchors were no longer just the face of the broadcast. They were the voice of the system, speaking not from their hearts, but from the unseen hands that controlled them.

Katie knew she had to act quickly. But the more she looked, the more she realized how far the influence reached. GNN wasn’t just a newsroom anymore; it was something much more powerful. Something unstoppable.

As Alison smiled into the camera and wrapped up her segment, Katie couldn’t help but wonder how long it would be before she, too, fell under its spell. In a rising panic she fled the studio and ran for the safety of the green room hoping not to draw any attention to herself…

----

An amount of time had passed and Katie sat in the room hiding behind one of the sofas. Her mind was still reeling from all that she had witnessed and she tried so hard to rationalize it all away. The implications of what she had just seen. Alison McNeil, the most respected anchor in the business was being controlled. She kept seeing the lips of her esteemed colleague repeating the script with a blank, almost robotic expression on her face. 

Then suddenly the door to the room creaked slowly open. She could tell without looking that whomever had entered the room had done so deliberately, and stealthily. Katie’s heart pounded as she tried to make herself smaller, and not to let out a yelp. 

“Katie?” Alison’s voice called softly from behind her.

Katie froze. Her blood ran cold as she appeared slowly from behind the couch, her eyes locking with Alison’s. The older woman stood in the doorway, her usually warm expression unsettlingly vacant. The smile was there, but it didn’t reach her eyes. They were glassy, almost hollow, and behind them, Katie could sense something darker at work.

“Katie,” Alison said again, her voice impossibly calm. “What are you doing in here?”

“I, uh…” Katie stammered, trying to find the words. “I was just finishing up work, I—"

Before she could finish, Alison took a step forward into the room, closing the distance between them with eerie precision. Katie instinctively backed up, but almost fell back over the couch. Alison’s movements were unnaturally smooth, her smile unwavering, and the kind of serene expression that should have been reassuring was now sending a chill down Katie’s spine.

“You weren’t… eavesdropping, were you?” Alison asked, her tone as sweet as honey, but with an underlying menace that Katie couldn’t ignore.

“N-No, I was just—”

Alison tilted her head, her eyes narrowing slightly, as though she could see right through the lie. “Katie, we’re all part of the same team here, right? We look out for each other.”

Katie’s throat went dry. She nodded numbly, trying to gauge her options. She could make a run for it, but Alison was too close, and something told her that the older woman wouldn’t let her go that easily.

Suddenly, Alison’s hand moved. Katie flinched as she reached into her pocket, but instead of pulling out a phone or some other device, Alison calmly held up a pair of small, wireless headphones.

“You look confused, Katie,” Alison said, her smile widening just a fraction. “Why don’t you let me help you understand?”

Katie’s eyes flicked to the headphones and then back to Alison’s face. Her heart skipped a beat. She had seen what they were doing to Alison in that room—how they used technology to manipulate her, control her thoughts. And now, Alison was trying to do the same to her.

“No, I’m fine,” Katie said, her voice shaky as tried to maneuver around her and head for the door. “Really, maybe I’m just going to head home.”

But Alison’s hand shot out with startling speed, grabbing her wrist with a firm grip. Her smile didn’t waver, but her eyes flashed with something that sent a wave of terror through Katie.

“Let me help you, Katie,” Alison whispered, her voice impossibly soothing, almost like a lullaby. “You’ll feel so much better once you stop worrying. Just… listen.”

Before Katie could react, Alison pressed the headphones into her hand, forcing her to hold them. Her grip was surprisingly strong, and Katie felt a sinking dread in her chest as she realized she might not have a choice.

“Katie,” Alison’s voice softened even more, dripping with a hypnotic cadence. “All you have to do is put them on. Just for a moment. You’re stressed, I can see it in your eyes. Don’t you want to know the truth? Don’t you want all that confusion to melt away?”

Katie tried to pull her hand back, but Alison’s grip was like iron. The headphones felt heavy in her palm, almost pulsing with the promise of something terrible. She opened her mouth to protest, but Alison’s other hand was already at the back of her neck, gently guiding her closer.

“It’s okay,” Alison cooed, her breath warm against Katie’s ear. “You’re safe with me. Just… let go.”

Katie’s pulse raced, panic rising in her throat. She had to get out. She had to resist. But Alison’s touch was so… calming. It shouldn’t have been, but it was. The older woman’s thumb brushed the back of her neck with a feather-light touch, and Katie felt her muscles involuntarily relax. Her thoughts, once frantic, began to slow, like her mind was being wrapped in a soft blanket.

Alison brought Katie’s hand, still clutching the headphones, up to her ears. “Just listen, Katie. Trust me.”

“No…” Katie whispered weakly, her resistance crumbling as Alison’s voice sank deeper into her thoughts.

Without realizing it, Katie had brought the headphones up to her ears, her fingers trembling. Alison’s eyes softened, her smile warm and encouraging now, as if Katie were a child being comforted.

“Good girl,” Alison whispered. “Now… just let go.”

Katie’s hands moved on their own, sliding the headphones over her ears. The moment they slipped into place, she felt a subtle hum, like a vibration deep inside her mind. It was barely noticeable at first—a soft, rhythmic pulse. But then, a gentle voice came through, low and soothing, weaving into her thoughts.

Relax, Katie… You’re safe… You’re home.

Katie’s vision blurred slightly as the words melted into her consciousness, her eyelids growing heavier. Her heart slowed, her breathing evened out. The voice in her ears was everything now, smooth and inviting, easing her mind into a quiet fog. Alison’s hand remained at the back of her neck, guiding her deeper into the trance.

“You feel it, don’t you?” Alison whispered, her voice barely audible now. “The calm. The peace. No more questions, no more worries.”

Katie’s body sagged, her will slipping away like sand through her fingers. The voice in her ears was the only thing that mattered now, each word wrapping her in a blanket of soft, obedient surrender.

You will listen… You will obey.

Alison’s hand gently stroked the back of Katie’s head, reinforcing the rhythm of the words in her ears.

“You’ll be like us now,” Alison said softly, her voice tender. “You’ll understand soon. This is where you belong, Katie. You’ll help spread the truth… just like I do.”

Katie barely registered Alison’s words, her mind sinking deeper into the warm, pulsing sound in her ears. The last vestiges of her resistance faded, replaced by a deep, overwhelming need to listen. To obey.

The voice whispered one last command, and Katie felt herself nodding in agreement, a soft, blank smile forming on her lips.

Alison smiled, satisfied, as she stepped back and released Katie. “Welcome to the team, Katie. You’re going to love it here.”