#home passport photo

[hounslowpassportphotoshop]

passport photographs

At their core, passport photographs are simply small, carefully constructed images that capture your likeness in a specific manner. They must meet strict requirements for size, lighting, and background color, and they must be taken by a professional photographer who understands these requirements.

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In addition to passport photographs, many photographers offer a variety of related services, such as visa and immigration photographs, ID card photographs, and more. Working with a single photographer for all your photography needs can save you time, money, and hassle in the long run.

In conclusion, passport photographs are a vital element of the passport application process, and they must meet strict requirements. By working with a skilled and experienced photographer, you can ensure that your photographs meet all the necessary specifications while also capturing your likeness in the most flattering way possible. For more information to visit our website hounslowpassportphotoshop.co.uk or feel free to contact us.

[astranauticus]

i am really having a Day today

[beeapartments]

Applied for my passport today and had to say bye bye to my shiny new naturalization certificate as well.. I hope you and the passport come back asap.. (I applied for an expedited one since we're doing a road trip in June and while we're not leaving the country, it would suck ass for it to get delivered while we're away.)

[cowboysmp3]

i have to send my deed poll, passport and old drivers lisence to the DVLA to get my name changed and its so scary to just. send off like ALL of my important and difficult to replace documents to like. the ether.

[sunshineangel0]

𝘳𝘶𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 도망가다

pairing- stray kids hyung line x reader summary- given a situation, you and member are running away together. whats the reason and how will it go for you? word count- 1.2k warnings- criminal behavior (theft, fraud, implied violence), toxic family dynamics/emotional neglect mentioned, mentions of law enforcement, surveillance, accidental pregnancy, soft angst/comfort-heavy romance, a/n- so i feel for a little darker themes i have to say: they’re all fictional—built on what-if scenarios and deep, messy emotions. Enjoy the ride !!!!!!! ahhh maknae line

CHAN — "𝘉𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘊𝘭𝘺𝘥𝘦"

ride or die crime partners

The motel TV hums with static as you count stacks of stolen cash on the bed. Chan’s leaning against the wall, shirt half-buttoned, gun tucked in the waistband of his slacks like it belongs there. “We're legends now,” he says with a crooked smile, tossing your passport into your lap. New name. New start. You grin, blood still rushing from the getaway. “Think they'll catch us?” He laughs once, low and reckless. “They can try.”

You and Chan are smooth-talking, quick-moving, adrenaline-chasing chaos. But damn, you’re good together.

He does the planning—routes, disguises, backstories. You do the talking—charming your way past guards, sweet-talking anyone who gets suspicious.

After a job, he always takes care of you first: checking for bruises, giving you water, making sure you’re still riding the high, not the crash.

You steal a sports car once, just for fun. He lets you drive it. You’re laughing like you’re 16 again, no rules, no regrets.

In the quiet, he gets soft—telling you how he used to dream of this kind of freedom. Not the crime, but you. The “us against the world” kind of love.

One day, you watch the sunset from a rooftop in Prague. “If we go down,” you say, “we go down together.”

He grins, presses his forehead to yours. “You and me, baby. Until the end.”

with him its...

Lipstick-stained passports – new identities, new lives, but still the same reckless love

Bullet casings in a jewelry box – mementos of your past jobs, hidden like treasures

Motor oil on his hands, lip gloss on yours – partners, opposites, balanced chaos

A black duffel with multiple IDs and one photo of you two – the only constant in every version of your lives

Champagne in a convenience store cup – celebration anywhere, any time—because you survived again

MINHO — “𝘘𝘶𝘪𝘦𝘵 𝘎𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘣𝘺𝘦”

healing from toxic pasts

You leave a note on the table. Nothing dramatic—just “I’m sorry. I can’t stay.” Outside, Minho’s waiting in his car, engine idling. He doesn’t say a word when you slide into the passenger seat, just reaches over and puts your hand in his. The road ahead is quiet. No sirens. No calls. No one yelling for you to come back. Just the soft sound of tires on pavement, and Minho whispering, “We’re gonna be okay.”

The first few days feel surreal. No screaming. No walking on eggshells. Just you, Minho, and silence that finally feels safe.

You stay in a tiny apartment with peeling walls and creaky floors. He makes it feel like home in a week—plants in the windows, a cat named Peach, warm soup on the stove.

He doesn’t talk much about what you left behind. Neither of you do. But when you wake up crying, he’s there. Quiet. Holding your hand until it passes.

He falls asleep with his head on your lap some nights, a soft smile on his face. You trace your fingers through his hair and think, I never thought peace could look like this.

He takes photos of you when you’re not looking. Says it’s so he “won’t forget this part of life.” You pretend not to notice, but you always smile.

One night, out of nowhere, he says, “Thank you for leaving with me.”

You whisper back, “Thank you for giving me something to run to.”

with him its...

Cat fur on everything – home is where Peach sleeps

Soup simmering at 3AM – because trauma doesn't keep regular hours, and neither does care

An old Polaroid tucked in your wallet – the only photo from the day you left

A chipped mug you both fight over – mundane arguments now feel like love

Sticky notes on the fridge with hand-drawn hearts – “Bought snacks,” “Feed Peach,” “I love you.” No grand speeches—just daily proof

CHANGBIN — “𝘞𝘦 𝘙𝘢𝘯 𝘉𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘕𝘰 𝘖𝘯𝘦 𝘉𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘜𝘴”

"framed" lovers on the run

The moment the security camera photo hit the news, you knew it was over. Your phone rang once—Changbin. “Pack a bag,” he said. “Only what you need. I’ll be there in ten.” Now you’re in the backseat of a stolen car, hands shaking, his hoodie draped over your shoulders. "Do you trust me?" he asks, eyes locked on the road. You don’t even hesitate. “Yeah.” The city lights blur behind you like a life you don’t want anymore.

Every gas station is a risk. Every knock at the door makes you freeze. But Changbin always stays calm—for you.

He keeps your fake IDs in his boot and a map in the glovebox, tracing out routes like you’re in a spy movie.

When things get really bad, he’ll hold your face, eyes locked on yours, and remind you: “We didn’t do anything wrong. Don’t let them make you forget that.”

In between the chaos, he finds little ways to bring you peace—humming your favorite song, buying your favorite snack, brushing your hair behind your ear.

He tells you once, under a thunderstorm sky, “If we have to spend our lives running, I’ll still choose you every time.”

You start to believe it. Even when the world wants to paint you guilty, you know what’s real—him, and the way he loves you like it’s all he’s got.

with him its...

Cigarettes out the window – not because you smoke, but because someone else does. And that means you’re being followed

Cash in a shoebox under the passenger seat – your safety net, escape fund, lifeline

Burner phones wrapped in napkins – disposable lives, but still texting each other goodnight

A cracked mirror in a motel bathroom – distorted reflections, unclear futures

His hoodie always on you – his way of keeping you safe, even when he can’t protect you from everything

HYUNJIN — “𝘞𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘔𝘦𝘢𝘯 𝘛𝘰, 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘞𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘥”

accidental pregnancy + quiet escape

You stare at the test in your hand like it’s not real. One pink line, two pink lines, whatever—it doesn’t matter. Your world’s already changed. Hyunjin walks in barefoot, hair damp from the shower, and freezes when he sees your face. You don’t speak. You don’t have to. He crosses the room in two steps, takes the test from your hand, and says, “Okay. We’re leaving.” Just like that. Like love is enough.

Hyunjin doesn’t freak out. Doesn’t question. The second he sees you’re scared, he shifts into full comfort mode.

He books a train ticket to a quiet town by the sea. No paparazzi, no pressure. Just you, him, and the sound of waves.

He paints all the time now—your growing belly, your sleepy smile, your fingers wrapped around a coffee mug.

Talks to the baby like they’re already here: “Hey, little one. Your mom’s the strongest person I know.”

He’s overprotective but sweet about it—holding your hand when you walk, cooking every meal, refusing to let you lift anything heavier than a book.

You cry one night, scared of what’s next. He just holds you and says, “I don’t know how we’ll do it. But we will. Together.”

with him its...

Paint stains on your clothes – you stopped caring if you get messy; life’s already full of color now

Socks hung out to dry on a line – homemade life, gentle routines, building something quiet but real

A worn baby book at the bedside – filled with notes in Hyunjin’s handwriting, doodles in the corners

His rings left in a ceramic bowl – he takes them off now, wants nothing flashy, just you and peace

Sunlight through gauze curtains – a new kind of morning, one that doesn’t rush you

©sunshineangel0 𖹭 if you liked this work, please consider reblogging, commenting or liking! xoxo franzi 💋

skz general: @velvetmoonlght @scarlet789 @estella-novella @nightmarenyxx @channiesluvrclub

(if you wanna be added to the taglist comment below!)

[hurtspideyparker]

After Peter takes Tony on a poor person's tour of New York City (Part 1), Tony decides to get some revenge by bringing the kid to California to see how the other side lives

First order of business: a tailored suit. Peter stands awkwardly while an elderly man takes his measurements and adjusts his posture. "Which side do you dress?" he asks. Peter's eyebrows crinkle, "um, I dress all my sides?" Tony snorts. "No Pete, he's asking which side your di—" "OH"

They take the private jet of course. "I've actually done this part you know Mr. Stark," he tells him smugly. "Yes I do know, Happy complained about it for 20 minutes after we dropped you off. Do you even have a passport?" "Nope!"

Tony's Audi R8 is waiting for them in the parking lot in all its hot red glory. Tony tosses Peter the keys. "Really!?" "All part of the experience kid. Wait till you get on those long Malibu roads, bet we can watch the sunset on the beach if you step on it."

Peter does in fact step on it. Tony regrets ever opening his mouth. "I thought you said you had your driver's license!" "I do! Well, learner's permit. Y'know Spider-Man stole a car once. It was awesome." Tony tightens his grip on the seat.

Tony makes him pull over when he sees an ice cream shop. Peter is very excited to get a cone, and Tony is very excited that Peter made it this far without driving off a cliff. (Peter is not allowed to drive again)

They walk along the beach while they eat, Peter rolls up his pants and wades barefoot into the shoreline waves. As much as Tony planned this trip to get revenge on Peter for the chaotic day in New York, he can't help but smile at the boy's contentment

-When they get to the mansion Peter takes it upon himself to look into every single room. "That's a linen closet." "IT'S THE SIZE OF MY BEDROOM."

There are five guest rooms. One has a foosball table and mini fridge, another with a tv the size of a wall. there are two downstairs and two in a separate upstairs hallway. Tony tells Peter to pick whatever one he wants... he picks the room right across from Tony's (he should have expected that)

They hit LA the next day. "You didn't bring a hat or something?" "No, why?" Tony hands him a pair of his ostentatious sunglasses. "Borrow these." Peter wears them on their way to get lunch and it becomes clear very quickly why when within 20 minutes there are half a dozen paparazzi following them and snapping photos while yelling questions

"Mr. Stark who are you with?" "Stark what are your thoughts on the floods in Libya" "young man what is your name?" "hey kid how do you know Stark?" "Mr. Stark is this your illegitimate son?" "what does Ms. Potts think about your past sexual history?" "does this have anything to do with the child labour accusations against Stark industries?" Tony keeps his head up and continues walking down the street without pause when he speaks. "This young man is part of SI's intern program, and he's exceptional enough to work directly with me. No further questions please," and with that he grabs Peter's arm and pulls him into a cafe

"Woah," Peter says dizzily. "Yep." Tony replies simply

Tony orders them some sandwiches and smoothies—"14 dollars for a small?! What's it made of, gold?" Peter exclaims. Tony shrugs with a sip of the straw. "Probably, they put that stuff in everything nowadays. All it does is rack up the bill and stick to your teeth"

They don't spend too much time out before they need to go home and get ready for a charity gala. Tony watches in amusement as Peter struggles with his tie for five minutes before stepping in and tying it for him. He also puts on Peter's cufflinks for him. "These look expensive..." he examines the silver squares with a subtle P.P. monogram. "Meh, just six hundred." Peter balks while staring at the small accessory. "Mine were 3k," Tony says with a smirk, showing off his own cufflinks in a much more garish T.S. shape. Peter pales nauseously.

Peter sticks close to Tony in the large ballroom, shaking a dozen hands of old white men who all look the same and women who waddle around in their long dresses (Peter steps on one woman's train causing her to trip into a wobbly drunk woman, sending them both sprawling on the ground. Peter decides to inconspicuously speed walk away after brushing off the evidence of his footprint on the stiff fabric. Tony nearly gives him away with his laughter)

Peter grabs a glass of champagne at a waiter's offering, only to have it immediately taken from his hand by Tony. "Hey!" "you really thought I'd let you drink right in front of me?" Peter pauses. "Alcohol? I thought it was sparkling juice or something. Why'd the waiter give it to me, do I look 21 in a suit?" Tony scoffs at the hopeful flush to Peter's round cheeks. "Yeah no, but most aristocrats are alcoholics by 15 so the wait staff don't discriminate."

Tony orders him a virgin shirley temple from the bar and he's content

Peter later comes out of the bathroom with a stiff posture and quickly makes his way back to Tony. "Um, some people just offered me cocaine?" "did you take it?" "no..." "then we're good." Peter's eyebrows furrow as Tony moves on

"Here, you pick the amount," Tony says as he hands his checkbook and a pen to Peter. "Um, what is this for again?" Tony pauses. "Either youth literacy programs or LGBT suicide prevention." Peter shrugs and writes down 5000. Tony takes it back with a nod and then adds another zero

Tony doesn't say anything as Peter looks over the appetizers spread out on a white cloth table. Most of it is confusing or disgusting, and none of it looks very filling. He picks up something seemingly innocent, meat on a cracker. "I thought this was ham, but it's kind of greasy," he comments as he chews. Tony smirks at him. "It's foie gras." Peter stares at him blankly. "Duck or goose liver. They overfeed the birds to fatten them." Peter subtly spits it out into a cloth napkin that is way too nice to get dirty

They get burgers on the way home.

Later that evening Ned sends Peter a text with a TMZ article: Tony Stark and New Company Heir in LA. "You're in LA?!?? YOU'RE GONNA BE A CEO?" Peter face palms before texting back. "I'm boujee now Ned, don't talk to me again until your net worth is at least 3 mil"

[hoonieyun]

letter from: heeseung ⋆｡˚❆˚ ｡⋆

you're my wishlist, looking at you got me thinking of christmas. snowflakes in my stomach when we're kissing and when you're coming down the chimney, oh it feels so good... -sabrina carpenter "a nonsense christmas"

pairing: lee heeseung x reader

genre: romance/fluff - a BIT of angst - idol!heeseung - long distance relationship

warnings: suggestive, kissing, profanity, and overall 18+ (not proofread lol)

summary: heeseung comes home for the holidays

christmas herald masterlist ⋆｡˚❆˚ ｡⋆

word count: 3302

You didn’t think you could fall in love with Heeseung anymore than you already did but as you smiled at your phone while looking at the photo of Heeseung holding a duck shaped snowball, you couldn’t help but miss him even more. 

As you were going to continue smiling at the handsome photo of Heeseung, you’re interrupted when Heeseung’s contact photo appears on your screen, indicating that he was calling you at the moment. You quickly accept the call and soon enough, Heeseung’s handsome face that you were just staring at appears, he’s bundled up in warm clothes and a scarf so big that it almost covers half of his face. 

“Hi, baby! How are you?” Heeseung asks, flashing his classic smile that never failed to make you swoon. “I was literally just looking at the photo you just posted!” you tell him with a laugh. 

“Wow, you love me huh?” Heeseung teases and you roll your eyes in response, smiling at him regardless of his teasing. The two of you briefly catch up on your days and what you have planned for the week. Heeseung was currently in a car on his way to schedules you assumed and you were in bed, cozied up in a large knit blanket and a hoodie of Heeseung’s that he had left for you. 

Dating someone who is constantly in the public eye and famous doesn’t come easy, but as you face hardships it only makes the sweet and tender moments even more worth it. You and Heeseung have been dating for 2 years now, going on 3 this upcoming Christmas and the only thing you could wish for is that he would come home for the holidays, but with Christmas arriving in the next 24 hours; it was highly unlikely that would happen. 

“What’s on your mind, pretty?” Heeseung asks, bringing you out of your thoughts. You hadn’t realized that you were spacing out, “Oh! Nothing, babe. Was just thinkning about how fun Christmas will be tomorrow. Wish you were here!” you say, a slight pout at the end. Heeseung’s eyes soften at your words, he wished he could spoil the surprise but he knows waiting will be worth it. “I know, my love. I want to be with you more than anything in the world right now.” Heeseung says. 

“But your Christmas present should arrive tomorrow!” he continues. “You didn’t have to get me anything!” you ask, pouting even more but knowing Heeseung was always one to spoil you. “Alright, I’ve gotta go, my love. Merry Christmas, love you. I’ll talk to you soon.” Heeseung says and you bid him goodbye but not before blowing him a kiss through the phone and Heeseung catching it in his hand in response. The two of you laugh at the interaction before ending the call, a sigh leaving your lips as you spend yet another Christmas without the love of your life. 

⋆｡˚❆˚ ｡⋆

Heeseung sighs as you end the call and a smile spreads on his face. You had no idea about his Christmas gift for you and although he felt guilty for leading you on a bit, he knew it was going to be worth it in the end. 

“Is she off the phone?” his manager asks and Heeseung hums in response. His manager tells him that they’re almost at the airport and tells him to make sure he’s got his passport and boarding pass ready. Soon enough, they’re at the arrivals wing of the airport and Heeseung is making his way inside to catch his flight all the way to the love of his life, you. 

Heeseung would arrive sometime on Christmas morning so he was excited to be able to surprise you. He had coordinated with your mom to make sure the surprise works, ensuring that your family holds the secret and doesn’t spoil it for you. Heeseung has been planning this surprise for the last few months and did everything he could to make sure that his company and managers would allow him and in all honesty; he was going to make it happen regardless.

⋆｡˚❆˚ ｡⋆

The next morning was filled with half joy and half yearning. You wished you could wake up and find Heeseung sleeping soundly next to you in bed but like every other day for the last year or so, you woke up in bed alone. Christmas morning should be filled with only joy so you weren’t going to let Heeseung’s absence overshadow your enjoyment of Christmas day with your family. 

You spent a quick amount of time after getting out of bed to get ready. You were going to spend Christmas day at your mom’s house, as you usually did, and you wanted to put yourself together but not too much. Your mom had told you to wear holiday pajamas so you had gotten dressed in a red plaid pajama set. After getting dressed, you quickly packed your car with the presents you were bringing to your family and made your way to your mom’s home. 

Pulling into her driveway, you were met with several cars that belonged to some of your relatives. Your mom suddenly runs out to greet you a Merry Christmas and after sharing a warm hug with her, she helps you bring everything inside so you could greet the rest of your family. 

It was all smiles and warm hugs as you entered your childhood home and what sadness you had from Heeseung’s absence was soon filled with the joy brought by your relatives. You make your way to each family member, hugging and greeting them, when your sister asks, “Merry Christmas! No Heeseung again?” and although she meant no malice behind it, it left a bitter taste in your mouth as it was another reminder that you haven’t been able to spend Christmas with him for the last few years. You shook your head slightly and unbeknownst to you, there were side eyes and smiles exchanged from your relatives as you responded to the absence of your boyfriend. 

The greetings were short lived as right after everyone began exchanging gifts and opening their presents. Several of the kids were cheering in joy as they opened their presents to see toys, stuffed animals, and clothes with cartoon characters you didn’t really recognize. 

You smiled at all of the happy kids and glanced over at the older relatives who were thanking one another for their gifts, the presents being more of convenience for quality of life and a mixture of small personal presents that they knew each other would like. You opened several presents and thanked those that gave you one but although you didn’t want to be a debby downer, all you wanted was for Heeseung to be with you. 

From the side, your mom was looking at you, watching you and trying to read your expression. It doesn’t take much for her to know that you were merely yearning for your lover and she couldn’t help but feel for her daughter and as much as she wanted to comfort you and spoil the surprise, she knew better than to do that. Knowing that the surprise would be worth it in the end. 

⋆｡˚❆˚ ｡⋆

Heeseung ends the call with your mom excitedly just as you’re pulling up into the driveway. He tells her that he had just landed and as soon as he gets his bags, he’ll be on the way to your mom’s house to surprise you and give you the best present you’ve ever had on Christmas. He was so excited to see you and couldn’t wait to get you in his arms and never let go. 

Your mom would occassionally send him updates on you, letting Heeseung know that you had arrived, what you were wearing, how you were feeling, and although he felt bad that you were a bit sad on Christmas, he knew that his presence would be the best present to make you feel better. 

And after what felt like the longest drive of his life from the airport to your childhood home, Heeseung is pulling into the street and instructing the driver to drop him off a few houses down just to be sure you don’t see him coming. 

⋆｡˚❆˚ ｡⋆

Your mom receives a text from Heeseung and she smiles at her phone, “YN, honey. Here, open this!” she says, handing you a gift bag that had a bright red bow on it. “Mom, you didn’t have to get me anything, but thank you.” you say, giving her a hug before opening it. You excitedly open the gift from your mom, being taken back to when you were a child and you’d be ecstatic opening presents from your mom.  

You throw the glittery tissue paper to the side and pull out a white hoodie that was folded neatly but in a way that covers the front. You unravel the hoodie and a smile breaks out onto your face as a laugh erupts from your lips. You flip over the hoodie to show the rest of your family and they all laugh together, the hoodie has a photo of Heeseung as a baby and a santa hat is edited onto him. You thank your mom once more for the cute gift and although you still wish Heeseung was actually there, the hoodie itself helped a lot with how much you missed him. 

You quickly put the hoodie on and at the same time, the doorbell rings. You look at your mom confused as you scan the room, all of your relatives that you knew were attending Christmas at your moms were already here so you weren’t completely sure who that could be. 

“Are you expecting someone else, mom?” you ask and she merely just asks you to get the door. As you get up to open the door, you don’t notice that your relatives have sneakily pulled out their phones to record and were all biting back smiles and laughter as you approach the front door. 

A surprise waiting for you. 

⋆｡˚❆˚ ｡⋆

Heeseung’s heart is beating faster and faster as he walks up the short steps up to the front door and as he presses the button of the doorbell, it feels like time stops as the bell rings from the inside. 

He swears he could hear his heartbeat louder than anything at this moment and he wasn’t completely sure what he would do as soon as he saw you. He had run through so many scenarios in his head on what he would do. 

He thought about just randomly appearing in your moms house. 

He thought about hiding inside of a comically large gift box and popping out.

But as he waited for you to answer the door, all he could think about was wrapping his arms around you and feeling the warmth of your love envelope the both of you. 

Heeseung is brought out of his thoughts when the sound of the door unlocking and opening takes over the sound of his heart beating in his ears. The door slowly opened and there you were, standing behind the door, beautiful as ever, eyes wide and lips slightly parted as your eyes met one another. 

“Merry Christmas, my love.” Heeseung says, flashing a smile you hadn’t seen in person in so long. 

But before Heeseung could approach you with a hug, the door gets slammed in his face. 

⋆｡˚❆˚ ｡⋆

“What the fuck..?” you say, turning around to look at your family to which you find them all laughing with their phones out recording your reaction. Your breathing was suddenly so fast and you couldn’t process what was happening. 

How was Heeseung standing at your mom’s doorstep at this very moment? 

You couldn’t even fully process what was happening before Heeseung was ringing the doorbell once again. You swing the door open and as Heeseung is about to say something, you jump into his arms with a hug and he catches you. Wrapping his arms around your waist as yours are around his neck. He’s softly rubbing your back while whispering comforting and loving words into your ear. All you could hear was the beating of your hearts together as he whispers into your ear. 

“Merry Christmas, my love.” Heeseung says once again and this time you don’t slam the door in his face. You pull your face away from his neck to look at him, like you were making sure that he was actually there. 

“How are you here right now- Actually, I don’t care.” you say as you tighten your hug and bury your face in his neck once again. Heeseung laughs at your reaction and brings the two of you inside. One of your cousins helping Heeseung bring his suitcase into the house. 

He sits the two of you onto the couch and you situate yourself on his lap. Not even caring that this was way more PDA than you were usually comfortable with in front of your family but you couldn’t bring yourself to let go of Heeseung and neither could he. 

You and Heeseung save your conversation for later, for now the two of you were just happy to be in each other’s arms as you celebrate the Holiday with him and your family. They’d occassionally ask him questions about his life as a KPOP Idol and each time you would shush them and each time Heeseung would gently pat your back to let you know it was okay. 

That’s what you loved about Heeseung, he was always so accommadating and put so much effort into being a part of your family. You couldn’t help but just smile at him as he spoke with your family, they all got him something small but meaningful for Christmas and he soon passed out gifts he brought from Korea. 

“Oh! Before I forget…” Heeseung says as he slightly shifts underneath you, removing his winter coat to unveil a similar white hoodie like the one your mom got you but he had a photo of you as a baby with the same santa hat photoshopped onto the photo. You burst out into laughted at his reveal and once again wrap your arms around him. 

After a few hours and enjoying lunch together, your relatives leave your mom’s home with you and Heeseung leaving the very last; making sure to help your mom clean up before leaving, Heeseung’s idea that only made your heart swell with love even more. 

The two of you bid farewell to your mom, giving her a hug and kiss before heading back to your apartment. Heeseung in tow behind you as you walk over to your car. Heeseung offers to drive and although he hasn’t been in your hometown for a few years, it seems like his memory of the route to your apartment had never left his mind. 

You can’t help but stare at him as he’s driving and as cringe as it may seem, he had one hand on the wheel and his other was gently set on top of your thigh. The two of you spend the car ride singing to Christmas songs and laughing, enjoying the moment together and extending the moment into your apartment. 

Once the two of you enter your apartment his hands are on you and your lips connect. Sharing a kiss that the two of you have waited for for what seems like eternity. The kiss was electric and it felt like the first time you two had ever kissed. At the airport when Heeseung had finally asked you to be his girlfriend right before his flight back to Korea. 

The two of you spend the next few hours in your room, limbs tangled with one another, and your pillows and blankets thrown onto your bedroom floor. 

⋆｡˚❆˚ ｡⋆

“I can’t believe you’re here right now… this is crazy.” you say as you lay your head on Heeseung’s chest while he softly plays with your hair. He explains to you how he made it happen and how he had been planning it for the last few months with the help of your mom. 

“How long are you here for?” you ask, afraid of his answer but to your surprise and joy, Heeseung let’s you know that he’ll be there with you for New Years. He had to pull a lot of strings to be able to get a vacation away from the company for a week or so and with the help of his members, he was able to do just that. 

“Remind me to thank the guys.” you say with a laugh. “What about me? I’m the one that made it happen…” Heeseung says with a fake pout and all you could do was give him a quick kiss on his pouty lips. 

Christmas without Heeseung wasn’t easy, hell, life without Heeseung wasn’t easy and living so far from one another was the ultimate challenge to your relationship but somehow, through his busy schedule, he made it work. 

His dedication to you was a true testament to his love and you couldn’t help but ponder on a future with Heeseung where the only distance between the two of you would be the length of the walk you’d have to go on as you make your way down the aisle. He was someone you could see forever with and you knew that he was the one for you, and so did he. 

“What’s on your mind, pretty?” he asks and you sigh before answering. “Just thinking about how lucky I am to have gotten you as the person I’ll love for the rest of my life.”

“Rest of your life? Are you sure… I mean I know I’m a catch but forever's a… long time.” Heeseung teases and you merely just laugh and slap his chest in response. “Please, if anything, you’re stuck with ME.” you say, grabbing his arm and wrapping it around you tightly. 

“And I wouldn’t want to be stuck with anyone else for the rest of my life.” Heeseung says, giving you a small kiss on your crown. “Thank you… this was the only thing I wanted for Christmas and just when I thought that I would go another Christmas without you… you’re here.” you say, a small tear falls from your eyes and Heeseung pulls you up to look at him, wiping your tears away. 

“I know it’s hard not always being together but just know that I spend every hour of the day and night wanting nothing more to have you in my arms and to go home at the end of the day and to wake up the next day seeing your beautiful face. 

Thank you, for being so patient with me and sticking by my side through everything.” Heeseung says and even though you had briefly stopped crying, you couldn’t help but cry even more at his loving words. 

“Besides, maybe next time I’ll just fly you out to Korea.” he says and you laugh once again while wiping away your tears. 

Heeseung was good at that, making you cry because of how much you loved him but also knowing how to comfort you at the same time. It’s like he knew you so well that he was more connected with your emotions than you were with your own. 

“I love you, thank you for everything. You’re the best present I could ever ask for.” you say, giving him a kiss. 

“I love you too. I couldn’t have asked for a better Christmas and way to enter the New Year than to spend it with you.” he says, once again pulling you into his arms for a hug. 

A hug that you wish you never had to let go of. 

copyright 2024 - present © hoonieyun all rights reserved

all writing here is fiction & not in any association with characters mentioned.

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[auspicioustidings]

You have two passports which is neat (thanks to your parents being two different nationalities). Not something that's really got much of an impact on your life. Or at least it didn't until the MoD did a search for any employees that may have one of your nationalities and you popped up. You don't do anything in the military as such, but technically you do work for the MoD even if it's as a low level cleaner in an office.

Imagine your surprise being pulled into a meeting room with someone who has more stripes on their shoulders than you knew existed along with some Captain you've never met. The world's sort of at stake you see, and it would really speed things along if Captain Price here could get a visa for that second country you hold a passport for. Don't worry, once all is said and done the marriage can be annulled, and really given his team are risking their lives, how bad is one tiny little marriage?

The bit they don't tell you as the man with the many stripes performs the ceremony right there and then in the office is that this isn't expected to be a short mission by any means. No, that bit you find out as time marches steadily on and your husband who you had assumed you'd never actually interact with is giving red envelopes to your little cousins for the New Year, is rushing you to the hospital and sitting right by your side holding your hand as you recover from appendicitis, is slowly making a home for both of you. The house, he says, is for security. And yet anyone who enters sees the photos on the walls, the knick knacks, the combination of you and him soaked into the place.

It's two years into your marriage that one rainy night, saited from a warm meal and enjoying a cosy hot chocolate as you talk about anything and everything, you finally consummate the damn thing.

By the time he finishes the mission you have 3 kids and 2 dogs. After the kids are put to bed the day he gets back he gets down on one knee. "Want to do it proper this time darling. Will you marry me, my beautiful wife?"

[leonw4nter]

Look at Us, You and I, Back at it Again

RE4R!Leon x Nurse!F!Reader

The terribly busy days stretched into the evening, turning into extended hours of work with little to no intervals of rest in between; the hospital is horribly understaffed for the season, staff and patients overwhelmed with the spike in the number of people needing confinement. As dedicated as you are to your job in helping people get better, you begin to miss laying on your cushy bed with Leon and those nonsense late-night talks. At this point, it feels like you live in the hospital and your apartment is just a place you visit on the sparse occasion that you aren’t paged in for another overtime. Luckily for you, you have a picture of Leon kept snug on your pocket; it’s a spare 1x1 photo for his passport that you snuck and he never asked for back, your fiancé looking extraordinarily divinity-blessed with his gelled-back hair and neatly ironed suit, sans necktie, along with his swoon-worthy resting face. That tiny piece of glossy photo paper with his face printed on feels like the only thing grounding you back to Earth, something preventing you from losing your cool and going berserk in front of everyone.

As for going berserk, it’s now unnecessary because you finally hear the words you’ve been dreaming of for the past weeks: “another nurse will take over your shifts now, you can go home and get some well-deserved rest”. You nearly cry tears of joy, the sight of a gaunt and sleepless nurse close to crying possibly being a frightful sight for patients being wheeled in, but you don’t care. Compiling your belongings and informing the next nurse of what tasks need to be covered, you make a mad dash out of the building as if your hair’s on fire. The commute back home is full of short-lived naps and sniffling, the lights and smells a lot more overwhelming to handle than usual; a creeping sick feeling begins to manifest itself, coupled with a headache, warmer body temperature, and an unignorable lethargy. You were doing just fine this morning, going about your demanding routine smoothly but that perhaps may have served as a distraction from sensing the ill feeling that began to form. Somewhat accustomed to these bothersome sensations, you brave it out and do your best to completely ignore these symptoms as you accompany Leon in accomplishing some chores before calling it a night.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

That miserable feeling overwhelmed you sometime around midnight; you were now a lot more sensitive to the cold of the room and shivering so you raise your hand to place the back of your palm on your neck and forehead, feeling the unusual burn of your body. Usually, you can look after yourself even with a fever but this one’s different: you’re absolutely fatigued and your body feels too heavy to move. You look to see if you’ve somehow bothered your sleeping fiancé, who is actually oblivious to your malady and is facing the wall. The telltale feeling of your stomach churning, sending bile upwards to your trachea has you peeling the blanket off of your body to run to the bathroom, throwing up and heaving. Roused by the sudden commotion, as well as being a light sleeper as a result of his job, your groggy yet concerned fiancé follows you to the restroom– moving efficiently to speedily assess the situation. Upon seeing you knelt in front of the toilet, face bent towards the bowl, he snaps into protective mode and lifts your hair away from your face with one hand while rubbing your back with another as you groan.

“I’ve got you,” he soothes gently. “I’m right here to help you.”

Once you’re sure that you’re done he wipes your face with a dampened towel, the coolness of the cloth a relief against your feverish skin, before offering you some water to drink up.

“Need anything else?” He asks gently, rubbing your shoulders with the most silvery of touches.

“I wanna get back to bed,” you weakly mumble before standing up. Knowing that you’re still dizzy and more than likely weak in the knees, he holds you up and walks you over. No matter how much insisting you do, Leon refuses to listen and goes full-on protector mode: fetching you your meds, ointments, thermometer, a clean towel, tissues, and refilled water bottle. Being the sweetheart that he is, he lets you borrow his thicker hoodies and finds you some sweatpants to keep away the cold before tucking you back in.

“I can’t go to work tomorrow,” you sadly lament as your doting fiancé gives you head massages to ease the headache.

“You need rest, sweetheart. This happened because you haven’t been taking care of yourself,” he gently points out, free of condescension. “Even nurses fall sick when they treat their patients non-stop, though I know you have healing powers of some sort.” He finishes massaging you and giving you your fever medicine, noting it down on a piece of paper on his side and on his phone as well. He slides back into bed, right by your side, but not before turning the lamps off and making sure you’re comfortable. He pulls you close to his chest as if to shield you from the rest of the world, not caring if he’s going to fall sick too– not that falling sick would suck entirely: you’ll be the one babying him by then.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

You don’t feel Leon’s weight perfectly pressed against your side, your left side void of the blond agent. You call his name and you hear a faint response coming from somewhere in the house, footsteps approaching the bedroom door and you see him enter with a tray of steaming soup with veggies and sliced fruit, along with vitamins and a tall glass of water.

“But what about your breakfast?” You ask, voice hoarse. “You need to eat too, you know. I won’t let you forget about your own needs just to take care of me.”

He laughs, a paradise-given sound, as he reaches over to stroke your hair in the most silvery of touches.

“There’s some bread on the toaster, I’ll be getting up soon to get my bread. Don’t worry honey, I won’t do anything you don’t like.”

While you aren’t chewing on any food, he takes the chance to gingerly press a kiss to your temple and lets his lips linger for an extended second.

“My hardworking, beautiful, amazing, intelligent, caring, celestial, and radiant wife-to-be. Thank you so much for working so hard for us and for your patients, I’m sure they’re thankful that you do your best to help people.”

He registers the ping of the toaster, his toast ready, so he gets up to retrieve his meal along with a mug of black coffee. He asks you if you like the breakfast he made and if you want him to get you seconds, politely taking away your used utensils to wash later on. He sits by your side, offering an ear to listen to you yap and saying some words of his own when you’re too tired to speak.

“Honey, can you hand me my laptop? I need to send them an email.”

“Oh, I already called your department and told them that you’ll be gone for three days since you’ve fallen sick. The receptionist sounded quite sad to hear it but she penciled it down, wished you a speedy recovery too– how nice of her.”

“Eunice must’ve picked up then. Did she sound kind of like Phyllis from The Office?”

“We’ve never watched the show together yet baby,” he accompanies his words with a delicate tuck of your hair behind the ear.

Once again sleepy after a hearty breakfast, the day called for a nap so you invited Leon to join you. Your large golden retriever takes his spot beside you as the big spoon for today, curling his body next to yours and enveloping you in comfort and safety in its purest form, wrapped around his strong arms.

“Stop kissing my hair, I haven’t washed it yet and I probably stink too,” you shyly tell him, voice slightly muffled.

“Don’t care,” he says before continuing to shower you in genuine affection. “I’m going to keep kissing you because I love you so, so, so much and that’s why I asked you to marry me. Whether or not you look put together doesn’t matter, I love seeing you in your natural state.”

“So even if I’m a bald vulture digging into some rotten meat, you’ll still love me?”

“Yup. I’m going to be your equally bald, equally stinky vulture husband in that life and we’ll eat raw meat and watch the sunset together. If we have vulture babies in that one, I’ll make sure to take home some steak-level meat for my family,” he jokes but you know that he’s completely sincere with his words.

NOTE - For my day 1s out here, does this fic being posted on this day feel familiar? Well, if there's that familiarity that you can't quite put a finger on, it's because this fic celebrates 1 year of me officially posting fanfiction in here 🥳 It's incredible that in a year, I've managed to amass 600+ followers and I didn't expect that so much of you would tune in to write silly little daydreams of mine turned into words on a screen :'3 I hope everyone's had a wonderful holiday and got the gifts they wanted; I just ordered a Leon capcorom and he's on the way, arriving sometime around the first week of 2025 though I'm broke now lmao. Umm, as for 2024, it's been a year and I went through a lot so I hope that all the little rituals for good luck I do on new year's will be true like PLEASEPLEASEPLEASE man (may 2025 be our year amen). Anyways, that's it and thank you for keeping up with me and interacting with the fics I put out, I appreciate it TONSSSSS!!!!! I <33333 UUUUUUUU!!!!!!!! 💗💗💗

The doodle dividers are made by @inklore , the images are made by me (sourced from Pinterest).

[studioeisa]

montage of love ꩜ seungmin x reader.

── .✦ 💌 reader uses she/her pronouns. includes: idol!ksm, feelings realization, [childhood] friends to lovers, freeform, time skips, fluff, light angst.

── .✦ 🚏 self-indulgent and prose-heavy with a reference to Twenty-Five Twenty-One! originally posted on ao3.

── .✦ 📟 wc: 1,600+

Seungmin’s poorly concealed indifference towards her is probably the biggest tell of his affections.

She’s known him for so long, after all, growing up in the same Gangnam neighborhood. Their mothers stayed in touch, too, so Seungmin knows all about the course she’s taking up at university and the sporting competitions she’s winning first place in. 

Had things been any different, Seungmin is sure he would have been urged to pursue her. As a teenager, the thought would have repulsed him. Now that he’s a bit older, he’d be lying if he said the thought didn’t cross his mind at least once.

Maybe a couple of times. 

Maybe every single time he got to go home, really, because there she always was. A few houses down, their basement converted into a flower shop.

He wishes sometimes that it wasn’t flowers, because he sees flowers everywhere, which means she haunts him even when he’s miles and miles away. 

They don’t keep in touch online. They only ever see each other when his mother sends him out to buy a fresh bouquet for the living room vase.

Never mind that Seungmin comes home hours late, his face flushed and his answers curt. She always gives him the prettiest arrangements to make up for their rendezvouses.

(And, secretly, their mothers are still hopeful.)

But there was no romance in their meetings. Not the first dozen, anyway.

She would close up shop for an hour or two so they could visit a nearby convenience store or some obscure cafe. And when the group’s popularity began to pick up, Seungmin didn’t have to say anything. Their walks began to veer into quieter neighborhoods, more secluded spots. 

He doesn’t want to love her. He doesn’t have time for any of that, anyway.

But when she mentions offhandedly that a classmate flirted with her, Seungmin flexes his hand unconsciously. He feels the sudden urge to swing a bat at something.

And when she says it didn’t work out, Seungmin is embarrassingly relieved. 

She notices, laughs, reaches out for his hand. He doesn’t move away.

So Seungmin cares for her. He lets himself admit that much.

None of the boys know for the longest time, but he lets slip in front of Minho and Felix and Jeongin one day that he’s going back to Samseong-dong for the night because it’s his 여자친구’s birthday. 

Girlfriend. They all balk, even Seungmin. His what? 

Seungmin doesn’t bother to correct himself. He leaves his roommates in a general state of confusion and spends the night with her in her flower shop, eating take-out on the floor and talking about his latest trip overseas.

He contemplates, then, asking her what they are. But Seungmin has never been the type to rock the boat. Not when something is still good. 

They spend most of their time together in her shop. Rarely anyone who knows him stops by. It’s always an old man, an apologetic husband, a clueless boyfriend.

He asks her, one night, which flower she likes the most, and she simply says, “All of them.”

So he watches a couple of YouTube videos and arranges a bouquet with a little bit of everything. She tells him to stop wasting her resources but keeps the arrangement in the back room until they wilt. 

Though the boys ask, Seungmin never dignifies their questions with a response. They stop prying when they realize he’s not about to crack. They follow the breadcrumb trail instead, the traces of her that are difficult to avoid. 

Passport photos that Seungmin keeps at the bedside table of every hotel. Pictures he never posts but sends to someone, not the fan Bubble or the like.

And when they’re back home, he’s always hitting the ground running. The typically put together, restrained Kim Seungmin has started rushing, speed walking “home” after extended trips abroad. 

One day, his roommates look out their window and spot who he’s running towards.

Seungmin is in love with her, he eventually concedes. Big deal, he thinks.

He doesn’t really realize just how much it matters until he tells her offhand I think I might be in love with you and she freezes. Then laughs. She laughs and laughs and laughs, and he leaves the shop that night with the tips of his ears red.

They don’t talk for a week. Chan even pulls him aside at one point, concerned because all his recordings are too sad, too angry. 

She meets Seungmin at his dorm one evening and apologizes about her reaction. She was trying to act cool, she admits. And then she says, I think I might be in love with you, too.

Seungmin wants to laugh coldly, wants to get back at her, but there’s something so earnest in her confession that he knows she means it. 

Their first day as a couple goes by without much fanfare. Slowly but surely, she becomes more known to him. When he introduces her, formally and finally, to the boys, they are all shocked at the Kim Seungmin he becomes without him even noticing. 

He keeps an envious, watchful eye on all the members. There is always some form of connection between them; their knees touching, his arm around her shoulders, his fingers twisting a strand of her hair.

When she speaks, he nods in all the right places. “Call me when you get home,” he tells her as she leaves, and she rolls her eyes like it’s something he’s said a thousand times before. 

Seungmin dismisses the boys’ jokes about it. He has no idea, it seems, just how unfathomable his love is to others. And is that not the best kind? His affection is almost intrinsic, instinctual.

To him, loving her was as practical as breathing. 

“Did you ever really love me?” she asks bitingly during a particularly nasty row. The details are hazy, now, about what had them bringing out their claws and spewing venom.

It could have been Seungmin’s jealousy. It could have been her aloofness.

Nothing justified her question.

Seungmin recoils like she’d hit him. He stares at her, hard and angry. “Watch what you say,” he hisses, his voice impossibly tight and his eyes deceptively dry.

She has her lips pursed and her arms crossed. She’s poised and raring to fight, and waiting for the right answer. But Seungmin is stubborn, and tired, and what kind of question was that? 

There’s no way she could have known, or even seen, the way that Seungmin looked at her. The devotion in his expression. Oh, he practically worshiped the ground she walked on.

And here she was, questioning that. How dare she, Seungmin thought. 

What do I have to do? he wanted to ask. Do you want me to yell your name off rooftops? Give everything in my life up to prove it? Say the word. Say the word and I’ll show you just how much I love you. 

He says none of that. Instead, he does what he does best: He watches her leave. He watches her retreating back, watches the light blink out from the window of her room, watches their KakaoTalk conversation receive no updates for yet another grueling week.

He doesn’t even find out that she’s fallen ill from her. It’s his mother who tells him in a conspiring whisper. 

He shoulders into her room despite her protests and treats her until he’s coughing and sneezing, too. They switch roles.

“Is this enough proof?” he asks one night, delirious and drugged. Then, for the first time, with his whole chest, he says: “I love you.” 

She strokes his forehead with a damp handkerchief. Her eyes are dry but they shine, twinkle, and quietly, dozens of times over, she says it back. 

They’re able to keep it a secret for four years. Even the most harsh of critics begrudgingly have to hand it to them. What phenomenal discipline! What utmost consideration! Why did she never demand, never ask to have a bigger share of his life?

The short answer: She was happy. She didn’t need the whole world to know that she was the idol’s muse. She was content to watch his stages and know that he would be coming home to her for the weekend. 

Right before he enters military service, he releases a SKZ-Player. 사랑의 몽타주. Montage of love. And its hers, wholly hers, referencing their relationship, promising a safe return.

Fans think its about them. She knows who it’s really for. 

And when the 21 months of service is over, Seungmin is a bit of a changed man. Enough to stand before the higher-ups of JYP Entertainment, and then his adoring fans, to tell them all that he is in love. He has been for quite some time now. And there’s nothing he wants to do more than to keep making music, and be in love with that one person, if they’d all still have him. He asks, too, for his privacy to be respected. 

People do, for the most part, but she’s still found out.

Her flower shop booms in popularity. Old classmates from uni blow up her inbox. She waits for Seungmin to come home to her after his surprise pronouncement and can’t decide if she’s going to hug or slap him.

He gives her the long answer: He’s tired of hiding. He doesn’t care what might happen to his career. And the boys, he ran it through them, and they all think the same. 

If you love someone, why hide it? If you love someone, let it be known.

Seungmin takes her hand. “Let’s go out,” he urges.

It’s late in afternoon. Most of their dates have been snatched up moments; evenings in parking lots, backstage in dressing rooms. 

But the day is warm and promising, and the flowers are in full bloom. And Seungmin is looking at her, expectant and hopeful, his hand trembling ever so slightly.

And she can’t say no.

She squeezes his hand. “Let’s go out,” she repeats. 

He smiles, then. Indifference be damned.

They walk out of the store and the flowers lean towards them like they're somehow brighter than the noonday sun. 

[thecoffeelovingcat]

Fellow Californians,

The fire now has 0 percent containment and several areas now have no water in the hydrants anymore. People have now died in the fire.

If asked to evacuate, please do so.

Quickly Take photos of the interiors of each room in your home for insurance purposes.

Anything too large to take with you, take a photo.

Clothes, food, firearms, family photos, passports, SSNs, birth certificates, medical records, and anything of significance should be taken with you.

Small but high value items should also be taken with you (tablets, spare phones, game consoles, computers) as people have been looting evacuated homes in the past and it might happen again this year.

As for me, many of my neighbors are now evacuating even tho my area doesn’t have an order yet. We are just on the edge of the evacuation order.

I can see the fire from my property.

I’m now packing my bags for when the order happens.

I wish all my fellow Californians the best. Be safe.

[dedeinthewild]

paul aron x reader, bestfriends to lovers

~ “Remind me never to travel with you again,”

summary : Paul and his photographer’s carefree road trip through Spain ended in an unexpected detainment in Qatar. With nerves high, they spent hours waiting, teasing each other to pass the time, until they were finally free to continue their journey, together as always.

The second-to-last race of the season awaited them in Qatar, a land where sand reigned supreme and the heat was unrelenting. After two months of downtime, filled with travels far and wide, it was finally time to get back on the road.

Staying put for long wasn’t something Paul and ___ did often, especially when they had a passport ready to use and suitcases always half-packed.

After a few weeks at home spent at family dinners and waking up late—she wouldn’t stir until he returned from his morning run and began making breakfast—they had hopped on the first of many planes.

Their first destination was Spain. In October, it was still warm and pleasant. They rented a car without much of a plan, updating their itinerary on her laptop whenever they stopped for gas.

Paul drove, and drove, and drove some more, while she handled the music, took photos, and rambled on about anything that came to mind. She knew he was just like her in that way. In two weeks, with only their return flight and each other as constants, they explored the entire southern coast of Spain, along the Costa del Sol.

They lived on water, paella, and thread bracelets they couldn’t resist buying from roadside stalls and souvenir shops.

Even Paul, the Estonian, managed to get a bit of a tan during their half-day beach stops, where he would always lie back with his T-shirt folded under his head.

“You should put on some sunscreen,” she warned him.

“I did,” he lied blatantly, hands tucked behind his neck.

“You did not,” she said, narrowing her eyes as he opened one of his to meet her gaze with that playful look he reserved just for her.

“I did not,” he admitted with a smirk.

They were so carefree, chatting as they strolled through picturesque towns and nodding along to Spanish dialects they didn’t understand. He would watch her as she looked around, camera in hand and her old backpack slung over one shoulder, a bandana wrapped around the strap.

The sun had kissed her nose, leaving it slightly red, and her freckles were more visible now, something you’d otherwise notice only up close.

Traveling with her was something else entirely. Sure, Paul loved being with Karl—losing luggage and playing pranks on him mid-flight—but nothing compared to being with her.

She was a completely different person when they traveled, far from the ambivert he knew. She was open, ready to embrace every moment, legs tucked under her on the car seat, her hair often braided, and always smiling.

And if there was one thing he loved most about her, it was her smile.

“Got everything?” she asked, hands on her hips, standing outside the Airbnb where they’d spent the last two nights. “Passport, passes, and IDs?”

Paul checked his pockets, rifled through the documents, and nodded, doing one last sweep of the small apartment to make sure they hadn’t left anything behind.

“All set,” he confirmed, slinging his backpack over one shoulder. “Wanna stop downstairs for breakfast?”

Downstairs was Málaga’s best café, renowned for its dreamy lattes and the most delicious pastries they’d tasted on this trip.

“Will you kill me if I say yes?”

“I would’ve killed you if you said no,” Paul replied with a grin, grabbing the car keys and pocketing them before helping her with her suitcase and heading down the stairs to the street.

“Karl said his flight leaves Tallinn in ten,” the Estonian said, showing her his phone.

She nodded, listening, as they entered the café and ordered their usual. She paid with her phone while Paul checked their flight tickets and team emails.

They settled into their favorite corner seat, near the window where they could watch people pass by, and savored their breakfast before driving to the airport to return the car.

“You feeling alright?” Paul asked as they stood on the escalator leading to their gate. He glanced at her while tying his hoodie around his suitcase.

“As alright as I can be before a flight,” she replied.

It wasn’t a secret that she was afraid of flying, and Paul knew this well. During turbulence, she often buried her face into his shoulder, clutching his arm for comfort.

“We’ll be fine, as always,” he reassured her with a slight smile.

Those might have been famous last words because, after a smooth flight, hell awaited them.

As always, they had settled into their usual seats, Paul refusing to let her sit anywhere but by the window, even though she preferred the aisle. He always took the middle seat to keep strangers at bay.

The flight had been uneventful—a shared playlist on their AirPods, a few moments of sleep, and some playful photos that would inevitably make it into a photo dump.

But once they landed and joined the passport control line, smiling and chatting, two customs officers approached them.

“Could you please step aside?”

The officers escorted them away from the queue into a small room.

They’d been detained.

“So, what brings you to Qatar?” one of the officers asked, arms crossed, his holstered gun visible at his hip. He placed their suitcases on a table for inspection.

“I’m a driver, and she’s my photographer,” Paul replied, mirroring the man’s stance with a sigh.

“Can we have all your documents?” the officer asked. ___ handed over their passports, flight tickets on her phone, and the media passes for the race weekend.

“You’re coming from Spain, and your flight was randomly selected for a passenger inspection,” the less intimidating officer explained, asking for permission to open their suitcases.

“What were you doing in Spain?” they asked.

“Road-tripping. We were on a break from the racing season and decided to travel,” she replied calmly, hiding the natural nervousness anyone would feel in that situation.

“May I open your suitcases?”

The taller officer motioned for Paul to sit, likely cautious about his imposing height. She, on the other hand, appeared calm and cooperative, hands in her pockets and glasses slipping slightly down her nose.

The agents emptied their bags and left to verify their tickets, passports, and passes, leaving them alone in the room.

“What’s Karl saying?” she asked, slumping into her seat, running her hands through her hair after letting it down.

“He said the team’s working on getting us out of here,” Paul replied, arms crossed, his cheeks slightly flushed.

“Calm down, Paul. It’s okay,” she said, checking the time on her phone.

“I just don’t get it. Maybe someone else is trafficking drugs, and they’re keeping us here,” he fumed, one hand on his knee and the other supporting his head, frustration evident.

An hour passed. A bottle of water. Another hour.

“My back hurts,” the driver groaned, standing to stretch, revealing a sliver of skin at the base of his back.

“Maybe we shouldn’t have gone to Spain,” she teased, tying her hair into a ponytail to cope with the heat.

“And why’s that?” he asked, yawning.

“We’ve been away for two weeks, and you’re exhausted.”

“It’s not the trip; it’s those damn agents,” he muttered.

She smiled, noticing the cluster of bracelets around his wrist as he paced the room, lost in thought.

“Make it meme?” she suggested, holding up her phone, and watched as he pulled out his own and joined her on the bench.

Another hour and a half. A packet of peanuts.

Paul was busy folding the peanut wrapper into a paper plane while she took a call from her mom, who was worried they hadn’t arrived in Qatar yet. When she hung up, Paul handed her the paper plane, smiling, his blue eyes locked onto hers.

“Remind me never to travel with you again,” she joked, standing between his knees.

“You have so much fun with me,” he teased, leaning back to get a better look at her.

“You drive like Dominic Toretto, got mistaken for a trafficker… shall I go on?”

“I’m good-looking, funny, educated. I always treat you—”

“And you have an enormous ego. Almost forgot that one,” she laughed.

Two hours later, after being interrogated again to cross-check their story with Airbnb bookings and team contacts, the agents finally returned with their documents.

They were both half-asleep and achy from the plastic chairs, but they leapt to their feet as soon as they saw the officers.

“You’re free to go. Welcome to Lusail,” the less intimidating agent said.

“All thanks to me,” she whispered outside, rolling her eyes as Paul flexed his biceps, acting smug.

She pretended to bite him, laughing as he chuckled and stretched one last time before slinging an arm around her shoulders.

“The longest day of my life,” he muttered.

“You know what they told me while I was alone?” she asked, amused.

Paul nodded, spotting Karl waving at them in the distance.

“They thought I was a legit photographer, and you were forcing me to help you get into the country.”

Paul burst out laughing, dragging his suitcase along, his exhaustion overshadowed by the absurdity of the day.

“To me, it’s the opposite way around,” he said.

She gave him a playful punch in the side as Karl waved more dramatically, trying to catch their attention.

They really were a mischievous pair. But no one fit together as well as they did.

~ not a request, but when it comes to paul I'd write anything :)

[disgustingtwitches]

**MDNI**

"The closest to heaven we'll ever get"

Saw a lot of stuff about Simon helping out a s*x worker. Anyways, it reminded me of a personal experience I had so... Here I am 😃

5.5k words

*This is kind of Simon needing company and being a weirdo who needs constant validation.

Not gonna lie, it gets blasphemous at the end!

~

I always played around with the idea of being an escort. I was offered to do things while working in the strip club, but I always turned it down. I was spending every dollar I made because I could always make more, right? But when I broke up with my ex and realized I didn't have the credit or rental history to get my own place, I started panicking. The only option was to put down at least three months rent cash upfront, to even be considered. Suddenly, money was drying up at the club for me, my regulars were being whisked away by girls who would do more for less. I couldn't really get mad, it's just a part of the game really. So I knew what needed to be done.

I hit up one of my girlfriends and told her that I needed the extra cash and what I was willing to do for it. She helped me set up a website, took professional photos of me, made me business cards. The whole nine yards. Now all I had to do was wait. About a week in, I finally get my first client. It was awkward and surprisingly, both of our first times in this situation. I was sent back home in a black car and a few hundred bucks richer for just 30 minutes of my time. I felt a rush I never felt before.

As the months rolled by, the money came. Luxury was the new standard for me. Designer everything, nice dinners, even nicer dates. To my surprise a majority of my clientele were, at most, 10 years older than me, and even more surprisingly, good looking. Finance bros, guys with daddy's money, or just men who had the money to spare. They always talked about how it was more fun and less work to hire me than get a girlfriend. To get a pretty girl in their arm to parade around that wouldn't bicker and give them a hard time at the end of the night. No feelings attached, just company and good sex.

So here I am Saturday night. Instead of going out to the club like a normal woman my age in Manhattan should be doing. I am in my hotel. Waiting for a call or text from someone. Anybody. My hair in rollers, makeup half done. Just waiting. My phone lights up, a text coming in:

Hi, Gia. Was interested in spending an hour with you tonight, 11pm.

I smiled to myself. Finally, someone who reads my ad properly. Follows the instructions on what to text to me. Straight to the point.

Wonderful, just need a picture of your ID or passport.

I reply. Always a rule my girlfriend drilled into my head. Safety first. If they don't do it, then what could they be planning? Anything goes bad and all you have is a name that couldn't even be real. Any client worth your time understands your safety is a priority. So this was my way of feeling safer. A moment passes before my phone dings again.

A picture of a passport, full name and age. Along with a picture. He's cute. A little older than what I usually get but I'm not complaining. I quickly look him up, nothing out of the ordinary. Good.

Great. Thank you, Simon. I'll send an address for you to send a car at 10:20. Reach out to you then❤️

Before I start to get ready he texts,

Wear something casual.

Not an odd request. Actually most clients prefer it. Want more of a girlfriend vibe rather than an escort. I finished getting ready, helping myself to a glass of wine. Playing my usual bad bitch songs, it helped me turn into the woman I needed to be- from me to Gia.

10:25 rolls around. I get a screenshot of the Uber from him. 5 minutes out. I grab my purse and strut out of my hotel, to a nearby park. Never give your real address. Always make sure you're not being followed.

A black SUV pulls up, I slide in. Exchange pleasantries with the driver and I'm off. Headed to midtown. I share my location with a friend and how long I should be gone. My phone goes off.

Walk into the building and head to the elevators on the left. 36th floor. Apt. 4A.

I nod to myself before shooting a text of confirmation.

Got it. See you soon ;)

I pull up to the building, it's huge. Nicer than most places I've been. He must have some serious cash. I walk into the building and follow the directions he gave me. A little adrenaline rushes through me as I walk up to the door, always did when meeting someone new. I knock. He almost immediately opens the door, as if he was standing in front of it. Waiting.

Simon!

I say with a wide smile. He steps aside as I walk in, looking around. Nice place. Really nice place. Ceiling to floor windows, minimalist decor, the lovely smell of something masculine and expensive. He looks me up and down as I turn to him.

You look just like your pictures.

His voice is deep, alluring, unreadable. Sends a chill up my thighs that shoots straight to my core.

You do too.

I reply playfully. A small twitch plays at the corner of his mouth before disappearing. His face inscrutable. I shimmy off my coat before he takes it, hanging it up in a closet near the entrance. I wait for him to move. He stands, hands in his pockets, studying me. An awkward minute passes before he walks to the living room. I follow.

Really nice place you got here.

I try to make the moment more comfortable.

Hm.

He responds. He wasn't like the other men I've seen before. They are sociable, or at least try to be. I take a seat on the couch next to him, our knees barely touching.

Money's there.

He gestures to an envelope on the table. I nod, grabbing it.

Do you mind if I...?

I ask, opening it up. He nods and stands to pour himself a drink. My eyes widen. This is more than my usual rate. Much more. I'm quiet, trying not to show my shock.

Was hoping to do an overnight, if that's alright.

It was less of a question and more of a statement from him. It was more than enough for a night. I nodded.

Of course, I do wish you would've told me; I would've packed a bag.

I smiled, putting the envelope down on the table. I grab my phone and update my friend on how long I'd be gone for. I put away the phone quickly and look up at him. God, was he hot. And the way he carried himself made him even hotter, so nonchalant. He shrugged, sipping his drink before sitting next to me again, some space between us.

How long you been doing this?

He stares at me, gaze so intense I squirm a little.

Just a few months.

We're quiet again. Usually I try to carry a conversation if the other party can't hold one, but he makes me nervous. I talk again, asking mundane questions. It's like pulling teeth trying to have small talk with him. Maybe he's just not much of a talker.

I scoot closer to him, our knees barely touching. He puts his drink down, and rests his arms on the back of the couch. I lean in closer to him, resting my hand on his thigh before kissing his lips. He kisses back softly. We exchange light, almost timid kisses for awhile. He finally moves. A hand reaching up to grab at my hair, gently pulling. I moan faintly and that seems to set him off. He grabs me by the throat, not hard, just enough to stand me up and guide me to his bedroom; our kisses getting more intense. We strip each other of our clothes. I unbuckle his pants and pull them down, it feels like I'm opening a gift on Christmas. He's big. I smile up at him. He just looks down vacantly. I pull down his boxers and his erection springs up, tip drooling. He opens a drawer next to the bed, pulling out a condom and rolling it on himself.

Lay back.

He commands. I obey, opening my legs. I've done this so many times before, but this time it's different. As unceremoniously as he's treating this, I can't be more excited. His body is amazing, tattoos and scars just adding to the mysterious aura. His natural scent drives me wild. I look up to him as he crawls over me, lining himself up with me. He gives a couple lazy slaps on my slick. I take a sharp breath. He watches as he slides himself in, I tense up. Most guys are well... average. And he's well... much more than that.

Relax.

He huffs. Sliding himself in more, not giving me any time to adjust. I grip the bedsheets, clenching my jaw. I stare up at him, he doesn't even look at me. His face emotionless as he watches himself slide in and out. I try to unclench, opening myself up more to him.

Mhm...

He grunts. My nipples harden at his voice. I moan as he slams into my cervix repeatedly. It makes him shoot his eyes up at me, glaring into mine. His eyes dark pools, intense. He roughly hooks his arms under my knees, pushing them up to my chest. He digs even deeper into me as I whimper. He takes quick, shallow breaths.

You're so deep.

I say panting, the breath getting knocked out of me. I reach out to touch his muscular arms. He grunts and pounds harder into me. I throw my head back, whining. Trying to not wince in pain. He slows for a moment, pulling back, keeping my legs on his shoulders as he slides in and out. My breasts bounce up and down with each thrust.

You're hot.

A hint of emotion in his voice, he reaches down to knead my chest. My face gets hot. I tighten around him.

Fuck...

He makes a sound that almost resembles a moan. I smile up at him, almost proud of making him show any emotion. He looks down at me, a flicker in his eyes, a small smirk on his face that leaves as quickly as it came. He parts my legs and rubs at my clit in rough circles. I squirm under him.

Say my name.

He orders. His strokes picking up as I get used to him.

Simon~

As soon as his name leaves my lips, a deep rumble from his chest fills my ears. He leans over me, arms on either side of my head. I reach up to run my hands up and down the back of his neck.

Say you love me.

His request takes me aback. I pull him closer, my lips just under his ear.

I love you~

He immediately tenses up and takes a heavy breath. I could feel him twitch inside me as he finishes. He pulls away quickly, going to the bathroom to throw out the condom and clean up. He brings back a wet towel, wiping me down.

What's your name?

His tone as flat as ever.

Gia.

I responded. I know what he's actually asking me. Never, ever tell a trick your real name. Hell, he shouldn't even know your real age.

You know what I mean.

He glares at me. I shift awkwardly. Don't do it. He doesn't say a word, just stares in a way that makes me uncomfortable. Why should he know your real name anyways? I tell him my name. Stupid. Fucking dumbass. I kick myself. He nods and slides into some sweats, throwing me his shirt.

Let's watch something.

I throw on his shirt. Now this is what I'm used to. Being a temporary girlfriend. Pretending to be affectionate. Giving much needed companionship. He splays out on the couch as I lay on top of him. He turns on the TV, resting a hand on my ass and squeezing it. Maybe this is why he hires girls. Because of how distant he is. The man can't even hold a conversation. He flicks on some show he was in the middle of, a business dramedy that I couldn't care less about. I rest my head on his chest and he runs his fingers through my hair. We're like this for a while, quiet.

Tell me you love me.

He says dryly, looking down at me. I look up and kiss him.

I love you, Simon.

He gets hard immediately, rubbing himself on me. He gets up, lifting me up effortlessly, and throws me on the bed. He lays on top of me, pinning me down onto the bed. Kissing me much more passionately this time, like he was trying to taste every inch of my mouth.

Keep saying it.

His voice gruff. He moves his kisses down to my neck, pawing at my bust.

I love you, Simon.

I moan. I wanted him so badly. I don't care how I got him, I just wanted to take him. Something about him made me go crazy, deep inside. He yanks up the shirt I was wearing, moving his kisses more and more south.

You fuck other people raw?

I shake my head. I might've been a whore, but I wasn't reckless.

Never.

He nods.

Can I eat you out?

I look down at him. Something about seeing him between my legs makes me wanna say yes. The way his eyes looks almost as if he's pleading, desperate. No way. Never do that.

Yes.

I allow him to keep going. What the fuck am I doing? Why am I allowing this? Before I can think more, he plunges his tongue between my lips. Lapping up desperately, burying his face into me. I roll my eyes back, running my fingers through his hair.

I love you, Simon.

I gasp. It's the only thing he wanted me to say. I saw something in him, the way he reacted when I said that, it made me want to stay in his place forever. To never leave. Make him happy. It's just the good head talking, you'll snap back to your senses afterwards. He moans so quietly I can barely hear it. Barely. My legs on his shoulders, his arms wrapped around my thighs. Digging fingers into the soft flesh. He sucks on my nub repeatedly. It's a tortuously delicious feeling. I grip his hair a little.

I love you, Simon.

I look down at him, watching him devour me. He looks up at me, his eyes showing an emotion I can't decipher. He moves one hand down to slide two fingers into me.

I love you, Simon.

I moan, throwing my head back and smiling.

Hmm...

He mumbled into my heat. Pumping in and out before bending his fingers in a way that presses against my sweet spot. I hiss, pleasure flashing through me like a strobe light. I'm dripping wet. He pulls his fingers out and plunges his tongue into my entrance, trying to suck out every drop of my juices.

You taste good.

Voice as flat as ever, as if he isn't lost in between my folds. He drags his tongue up between my lips, from my entrance to my nub again. He slips his fingers in again, pressing up against my sweet spot repeatedly. I get lost in the feeling. God I could stay like this forever. He looks up at me, like he's looking for validation.

I love you, Simon~

I slip out between heavy breaths. He picks up the pace of his fingers and tongue. My face gets hot as I get closer, grip his hair a little harder. He goes even faster, harder, almost feverant. I roll my eyes back, panting. I whimper before crying out, tightening around his fingers in a vice grip.

I love you, Simon~

I force the words from my throat as I spasm under him. He continues, seemingly determined to draw another climax out of me. I mewled, trying to push his head away. He was unmoving for an unbearable moment. The only sounds were my pants and his slurping.

I love you, Simon.

I wailed, almost hoping it'll make him stop. He does thankfully. He pulls away, tearing off his sweats, beating off himself. Staring at me, his gaze is intense as ever. He grabs me by the thighs and drags me into his lap. He continues to stroke himself, staring into my wet core as if he was hypnotized by it.

Can I...

He starts, almost knowing he shouldn't ask the question.

Can I fuck you raw?

His voice is uncharacteristically soft and unsure. I blink at him, mind racing. ABORT! ABORT! THIS IS LIKE RULE #1 IN HOE-ING!!! He looked so delicious from this angle, his eyes still glued on my wetness. ARE YOU INSANE?? NO!! His throbbing, beautiful dick is twitching.

...yes.

I nod. You're the dumbest person on the planet. I insult myself a million different ways in my head. A brief moment of regret is replaced with pleasure as he slides his tip teasingly in and out of me. His jaw clenches, chest rising and falling faster. His voice cracks as a moan escapes him, his eyebrows furrow.

I love you, Simon.

I stare at him, eyes half lidded. The smallest smile spreads across his face, still looking at himself entering me. He inches his way in. Pulling in and out, going deeper each time. I squeeze him, make him bite his lip.

That's good.

He stated, voice quavering. He clears his throat before grabbing one leg and lifting it to my chest, digging deep into me. I take a sharp breath in. He hovers over me, arms on either side of my head again. He slides in and out, slowly at first then picking up to a punishing pace. I whimper and wiggle under him. He grabs my face, forcing me to look into his eyes that bore into mine.

I love you, Simon.

I stare right back at him, passion shooting right out of my eyes. His eyes flutter for a moment before blinking back into his cold, unnerving self. He continues to dig himself into me, slamming and grinding himself into the deepest parts of me. It's a painfully addicting feeling. I take his hand and press it up against my lower stomach so he can feel how much he fills me. He clenches his jaw so hard, it looks like his head could pop.

I love you, Simon.

I whisper. He drops down on top of me, snaking his arms around and behind my back to grab my ass. His mouth right next to my ear, I can hear his fast and shallow breaths. Little groans that slip out every now and then. I wrap my arms around his neck, holding him tighter.

I love you, Simon.

I hear him groan under me as I said it again. He goes faster than before, pretty much jackhammering me into the mattress. My mouth is agape and head thrown back. Only grunts escape my throat as I get fucked senseless.

Mhm...like that?

His words bounce around in my empty head. I replay it in my head over and over until I clench around him, he doesn't stop though. It only seems to spur him on even more. His warm breath tickling my ear as it gets more ragged.

Keep saying it.

He demands through gritted teeth.

Fuck... I love you, Simon.

I squeak out the words. He huffs and continues to rampage my body.

Can I come inside you?

He asks- No, begs. No use in turning back now. Just the thought made me close again.

Yes.

I nod and he breathes harder and harder until he pleads in a strained voice,

Say it.

I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper inside me.

I love you, Simon~

He spills inside me. His stammered breaths and moans driving me crazy. The feeling of him pumping into me driving me over the edge. I pull him closer, practically squeezing him.

I love you, Simon.

I tenderly kiss the top of his head as he nuzzles into my neck.

How often do you do this?

My head clears, a wave of regret coming over me.

Never. I never even hired anyone before you.

He says in a way so sincere I honestly believe him. How do you know when a trick is lying? Their mouth is open. Rules. Rules to live by, to be able to survive doing what I do. Rules. They all meant nothing as soon as I laid eyes on him. Somehow saw this coming a mile away in the back of my head. He pulled away from my grasp, disappointment flooded me. He leaned back, opening my legs: watching both of our cum dripping out of me.

Say it.

His eyes so focused, as if he were trying to take a picture with his mind; so he would never forget this moment.

I love you, Simon.

I say with a tender smile. His dick jumps. Good lord is this man insatiable. He stands up and does the same routine as before, cleaning himself up and then me. He hands me his shirt:

Here.

I throw it on and he leads me to the bathroom, grabbing me by the shoulders and making me face the mirror. He gently pushes my back, I lean my elbows on the countertop. I stand on the balls of my feet, trying to get my hips to meet his. As I look in the mirror, his face looks almost tender watching me sway my hips.

I love you, Simon~

I sing softly. He bites his lip, entering me again. God, I never get used to the feeling. He grabs my hips and pulls me onto him, he bottoms me out. Groaning louder this time, he pulls my hair back so I'm looking directly at the mirror, locking eyes with him.

S'it, pretty girl...

A corner of his mouth upturned just enough to know he's enjoying himself. His words make me flutter around him. He groans and starts to pound into me. The bathroom is filled with the duet of our breaths and groans. He pulls my hair so my back is pressed against his chest. He rests a hand on my throat, squeezing just enough. Moves his lips to my neck, still sliding in and out of me.

You love me? Huh?

He grunts, warm breath on the pulse of my neck.

I love you. So much.

I moaned. I repeated the phrase so many times, it started coming out of my mouth naturally. He moved his hand from my hair to my lower stomach, pressing against it so he could feel himself hitting my walls.

You love this dick, yeah? Say it.

His voice getting more demanding and urgent. I nod and look at him through the mirror, smiling.

I love it, I love this dick so much, Simon~

He nips at my neck as he continues to fuck me. His nips turn into bites. Bites that definitely leave marks. I didn't care, that didn't matter right now.

You're never fucking leaving, you know that?

A threat that sounded like heaven to me. He could keep me chained to the bed and I wouldn't care, just as long as he kept fucking me like this. I giggled with excitement.

You like that, hm?

He smiles against my skin before continuing to lick and bite my neck.

I love it~

I truly did. It felt heavenly. Better than anyone I've ever had. Ever. Something felt so familiar about his touch. As if I belonged there.

I love you, Simon~

At this point I feel like I'm reciting a prayer, the words flowing out of me like a stream. I was melting in his arms.

Turn around, wanna see that pretty face.

I did so eagerly as he lifted me up on the counter and slid inside me. I smirked up at him. He, as always, was watching himself impale me.

Looks so pretty...

He seemingly mumbled to himself. He leaned down and pressed our foreheads together, a firm hand on the back of my head. Hitting a spot so deep inside me I never knew I had. We were like this for a long minute, sloppy sounds of our sex bouncing off the walls.

I love you, Simon.

I stared into his eyes. They seem to soften for a moment before he tightened the grip on the back of my neck. A huff, and then he came undone. He stayed inside me until he was soft. He pulls out and pushes his fingers into my cunt, stuffing his seed back into me.

Hm.

He grunts in a way that sounds like approval before helping me off the counter. He leads me to bed and slips under the covers.

In my arms.

Commanding as he usually does. I press my head against his chest, his heart beating hard and fast. He wraps an arm around me, his touch much gentler than before. I fall asleep. Not too sure if he does too.

Morning comes and I'm woken up by the sun shining in my face. Sitting up, I'm in his bed, still wearing his shirt. Alone. I walk out to the living room and see him setting up breakfast on the coffee table.

You made this?

I question, surprised.

Ordered it. Good morning.

He turns to me, shoving his hands in his pockets. He looks at me expectantly. I blink at him.

Good morning.

I say. He looks at me as if he was anticipating something else. I think for a moment before suddenly remembering.

I love you, Simon.

He steps to the side, inviting me to sit on the couch. I help myself to a seat and look at the plate in front of me. It's simple, French toast and eggs. I help myself.

Are you gonna eat anything?

I look at him quizzically. He shakes his head, staring like always. We're silent as I finish my plate. I grab my phone and check the time. Almost time for me to leave.

Can I book you for longer?

His voice is gruff. An underlying tone, pleading?

It'll be expensive.

I didn't want to say that. Wanted to say I'll stay as long as he likes. But I already made too many mistakes. Gotta get back on track.

I don't care.

Of course he didn't. He could probably buy me out for the rest of my life if he wanted to. He pulled out his phone, asking for my personal number so he could send the money straight to my bank account. Hesitantly I gave it to him. He probably could find out that stuff if he wanted to anyways. My phone dings, I check my bank app. My eyes pop out of my head. I look up at him bewildered.

How long would that get me?

He asks, as if he didn't send me an ungodly amount of money.

It's enough for a whole week...

Shock still overwhelming me.

You wanna stay that long?

He doesn't really ask. He knows I'll say yes. Doesn't even wait for my answer.

I'll let you get your things.

He throws some of his clothes my way and sends me back in a car to the hotel. I grab my bags and checkout. Is this really happening? A call from my girlfriend. I tell her about his extension. She says something about making sure he's not a serial killer. We laugh, tells me to have fun, don't fall in love. I scoff as if that was the stupidest idea I've heard. As soon as I know it I'm back at his place, he's grabbing bags from me, setting them to the side. Turning to me and running a hand up the side of my waist.

I love you, Simon.

We spend the whole week tangled up in each other. Taking a break before I say those four words and he has me pinned against a wall or over a dresser or kitchen counter. Any flat surface, really.

It's Saturday night and we're showering, cleaning off sweat and other bodily fluids from each other. His touch is so gentle, handling me like I was a piece of china. He liked me. It was obvious. Seemed like the only way he knew how to show it was by fucking me, though. I liked him too. Maybe not to the extent he did.

Seemed like he found something he needed for a long time. He was hungry. Famished. He couldn't just let go of me. He's not satiated yet. Don't know if he'll ever be. It was a looming feeling. Dark and heavy. A little scary. But it made me feel more desired than I've ever been before. And not just a carnal desire. It made me feel coveted.

We're laid up on his couch. Watching the show I didn't care for before, a little more invested. My phone lights up, buzzing. The name of a regular of mine across the screen in big bold letters. This is usually the time of the month he calls to set up a date. A reminder that this is all temporary. I let it go to voicemail. He tenses up. Jealousy and disappointment radiating off him.

How much for the whole month?

He doesn't even let me think of an answer before speaking again.

How much to make you quit for good?

I'm a little shook, sure I've heard it a dozen times before. Always said in jest. But he's serious. The few words he said, he always seemed to mean. No need to waste his breath beating around the bush. My heart races. I can feel his pound against mine. A number doesn't come to my head.

Let's just see how this goes.

He doesn't like that answer. He wants something solid. A promise that I'll never leave. More than a promise. But that's as good as he can get right now. There's a tense silence between us.

I love you, Simon.

The only thing I can think of saying right now. He takes hold of me, climbing into the bed and sits me in his lap. His back against the headboard.

C'mon love.

He says frigid. An underlying tone of disappointment and hurt. I slide myself down on him, a little more adjusted to his size now. He wraps strong arms around my waist, pulling me so close it seems like he wants to coalesce into my very being.

Give me a number.

A demand that seems more like a plea. We hold each other. Unmoving as he is still buried deep inside me.

Maybe it is a little toxic to spiral into the addiction to fast money. Maybe I'm a little sick of pretending to be the perfect woman. Maybe it is a little exhausting to be a fantasy and nothing more. Maybe it is a little lonely when it's just me lying in bed, when I have to comfort others. Where's my comfort in all of this? Where's my happiness in all of this? No more fake smiles. No more fake orgasms. No more fake feelings. I don't care if he's lying. I want to indulge in delusion. Even for a moment.

Ok.

I give in. He leans over, placing me on my back before adjusting himself on top of me. Touches my face, his showing an emotion that is genuine and staggering. Devotion? It feels like it.

I could almost cry, the way he takes me like I'm his. The way he talks to me like I'm not someone he hired. That didn't matter anymore. I wasn't an escort to him. I was his girl. The sex was different. Transcendant. Divine. Did I know I wanted to be saved? Of course I didn't know; for the life of sin and suffering is simply a thing to toil in until you are shown salvation. Every time he came, he baptized me. I was born again in his eyes, I was perfect and clean. Absolved of my sins.

He looked at me with so much adoration. I looked up at him, much in the same way Magdalene did to her Redeemer. He had turned a prostitute into a Saint. The unshakeable feeling of deliverance washed over as he touched me, no longer a leper. I was saved by him. His body. His sweat. His seed. Akin to taking Communion. The closest to heaven we'll ever get.

[cherepizza]

Wow it's been more than a month. Didn't realize that. I guess I have something to show but uhh my sketchbook got under heavy rain so paper here it's a little wavy. It's a miracle it had so little damage considering what happened to my other stuff. Also nights proceed to get longer and I wasn't lucky to take better photos. Anyway..

All beacons' religions are based on mythology and existence of numerous gods and spirits inhabiting the world. The closest thing they have to monotheism is a religion formed around the existence of a transcendent all-present force (spirit) which, however, cannot perceive the world and interact with it by itself, only being able to do so by splitting itself into many different "sides". Only sides are able to maintain physical bodies and though they all come from the same source and it the end would become one again, they are treated as completely different entities. There're 8 major sides – 8 major gods, other deities are considered lesser. Aand I'll just leave it there because I'd better wait for the time I have a fine picture depicting gods to have at least something accompany a ton of sentences that would come describing them.

Many religions practices and ceremonies are performed at altars. The most simple home altar is a wooden table, low enough so that a beacon would have to kneel down to perform any ritual. The most common offering is food, other offerings include things associated with a specific god. Watered down alcohol may be poured only on certain celebrations. It's a very uncommon practice and in some households it's not allowed and has to be done secretly. After all, you want your gods to be sober to do their duty.

Living creatures sacrifices are also practiced, but sacrificing other beacons is forbidden (at least on the territory of the forementioned "all comes from one spirit" believers). Animals cannot be sacrificed on wooden altars and it's quite rare for a beacon to a have a stone one at home, so cooking and eating a designated animal or specific parts of it (obviously offering a piece to the gods in the process) on a celebration is usually enough.

An interesting religious thing are these sticks made from wood or bone, always coming in number of 8. If their owner didn't make them themselves, they may have some standard decorations and phrases pre-carved but most part of their sides would always remain empty for the owner to fill. Each stick is devoted to one of the major gods and contains an encarved list of things which a beacon wants to ask for from the deity. An altar is not needed when you have sticks but you should still make an offering if possible.

The sticks also serve as some sort of passport as encarvings may contain information about beacon's place of birth, place of work, profession, number of children and other things like the kind of crop their village grows even if the owner has nothing to do with farming but wants the crop to be protected anyway.

All stick sets are personal and follow their owner to the grave. However, taking copies is not frowned upon. Keeping the original set for yourself and leaving a copy with the deseased is also fine but the ritual of changing sets should be performed by close relatives who wish to keep the original sticks as a memory. Otherwise it might be considered disrespectful.

[mrgriffiths]

A request for what would it be like for a fem reader to be stalked by Terry Silver.

Thankyou.

I'm so sorry for taking this long! Only a month late O_O

𝕾𝔱𝔞𝔩𝔨𝔢𝔯 𝕾𝔩𝔦𝔳𝔢𝔯

<<𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚜>>

- Mr. Silver had been associated with all kinds of people throughout the decades. He's seen the good, the bad, and the in-between. Ultimately, everyone just became a means to an end. So, for a lady to catch his attention? It would have to be someone who is different than what he's used to... even in the slightest way.

- In the 80s, he's a playboy. Always seen with models or with women who have a million dollars to their name or two in the upper crust society. The kind that he'd flaunt around with the intention of showing off his status. These conquests wouldn't last more than a few weeks. He gets a rush out of just seeing the paparazzi in a craze to get the latest scoop on him all while he is fully in control about what gets let out to the eye of the public, even the 'leaked photos'. Everyone is merely a puppet in his world, and it gets him cackling at the very thought of it.

- But that's not all. Hell, it's the tip of the iceberg for Terry. He'd indulge in the mediocre bar dancers and hookers from the dingy parts of LA and likely all over the world too, the man's got to travel for business and he's got to keep himself entertained while he's at it! Women would practically fall at his feet just for a chance, a billionaire with looks and charm that could put the best models and actors to shame.

- So I'd imagine that the kind of lady that would catch the eye of Terry Silver would be someone who he'd seen whilst pretending to be a commoner, a broke karate instructor who's got a blue pick up truck that isn't in good shape. A random woman who works or lives in the area, just a few blocks away from the dojo. Probably isn't one to be seen as a fast or pretentious like himself. One who would generally be described as sweet and humble but would stand her ground if she's pushed too far. I think he'd like the challenge of molding someone to his liking while they have a fighting spirit in them. Makes things a whole lot more interesting.

- It would start off small. Him keeping an eye on you every day, memorizing your daily times of leaving for work in the morning and returning home. The route that you take, whether you walk, take the bus, or travel using your own vehicle, that would most likely be of the same value of his blue pick-up truck. The people that you interact with on the way.

- He'd hire a team of private investigators to get every bit of information about you after you seem to be stuck in his head even while he's coked out in the sauna. 'Nothings for free' there's a price that you will have to pay for occupying the thoughts of Terry Silver, borderline obsession sinking in.Your past, your family heritage, everything right down to your passport and social security number. Any past lovers and their history, too. If you happened to have a lover at the time, they'd swiftly be removed from the picture. He's all about the extremes, and no one will get in the way of him getting what belongs to him.

- Whilst you're away from home, he'd enter with the spare key that he'd seen you put under the small pot plant near the door although a mere door lock isn't something that would be hard for him to pick. Your apartment is small but clearly lived in. He'd have a look at everything you keep around, your drawers and shelves memorizing your interests. Your wardrobe and accessories will definitely get an upgrade in his home. He probably keeps something of yours for himself as a momento of you, your scent lingering on it. You seem to have not found one of your underwear in your laundry this week. That's strange...

- He'd come by and hide in the dead of the night to watch you in your natural state. Your mannerisms and what makes you feel relaxed. The type of shows you watch, the food you cook and whatever else you like to do in your spare time, your hobbies. He'd provide you with it all and more when the time comes. You'd get the weird feeling of having eyes on you, yet everything seems to be normal, and everything around is still in place. Nothing out of the ordinary. He'd even follow you to work and at the spots you chose to spend your leisure time at. Watching who you confide in and who you wouldn't associate with.

- After days, maybe even weeks of stalking his prey, Terry might come over and introduce himself to you. Just taking a walk on the street and offers to help you with the groceries one day. "Hey, need a hand with that?" All smiles and very friendly. He'd pick up the conversation easily with you coming off as innocent as possible. "Terry Silver, nice to meet you! I actually run the dojo a few blocks ahead." He'd tell you whilst offering a handshake after setting your groceries on the kitchen counter..

- That night whilst getting a good soak in the tub, he'd be on a call with John absolutely cackling about it all and going over the details of his plans for you. "Oh yeah! I'm just getting started, John!"

- Present day Terry Silver has a much different style and approach to this kind of situation. His playboy reputation all cleaned up, and the CEO of Dynatox Industries, who used to illegally dump nuclear waste, is now seen as someone who is an environmentalist more than anything. He's sober, has been to therapy, and is now associated with 'like-minded 'people. Yet everyone is still a means to an end, and he's just wearing a mask in front of these people. They don't know him the way they think they do, nothing of his time in 'Nam and certainly nothing about his old-time friend Captain John Kreese..

- It isn't likely that a woman from the upper crust would get his attention this time around either. All of these people are around him because of his money and reputation anyway.. if anything, they would end up just like Cheyenne Hamidi. In this case, it's likely that the woman who catches his eye would be someone who works for him or maybe comes around to one of his dojos. After observing you for a while during the class and afterward in his office through the many cameras installed in the dojo, he'd come to the decision that you are going to be his. There's definitely a fire in you if you have the guts to try out something like martial arts even if you don't know what it is that you're getting yourself into..

- He'd take full advantage of the presence of technology these days and find out everything he needs to know about you. Stalking your social media accounts and using all means possible to get information on you. Again, he'd have everything on you down to the very last detail. No lover or potential lovers will get in the way either. All of that will be taken care of.

- He's more direct in his approach this time, he'd come off as the sensei who's intimidating during training with the most piercing eyes in the room, but the most humble and understanding man outside of it all. He'd make you feel like you could trust him and confide in him whenever you needed to. He'd easily gaslight you into the entire situation, making it seem like it was you the whole time, and he'd be downright successful.

- He'd talk you into telling him everything about you in the shortest amount of time and have you invite him over to your home with ease. He's an old man, he doesn't have all the time in the world to play these games like back in the 80s as much as he liked the chase he would likely speed up the process tenfold. He'd have a look around your home whilst you're in the kitchen or bathroom, and he'd memorize it all. Not a sound would be heard from him. For a man as big as him, he's the quietest. You'd often get spooked by his sudden presence around you.

- You'd find yourself running into him a lot these days, but you couldn't put anything past a coincidence. After all, he's the nicest person you've come across. He's probably got your phone taped while you were non the wiser. Everything you do would ultimately be in his control without him even moving past the facade of friendship with you. Your friends and family start to get distant, but Terry is always there whenever you need it... Once a snake has you secure in its coil, there's no escape other than that of death..