#elle decoration days
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𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐬 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: when you were accommodated in such a shabby hotel, the last thing you needed was a power outage. and upon learning about one of your colleagues' fear of the dark, you can't bring yourself to not help him
𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐰: spencer reid x newbaumember!femalereader, spencer is afraid of the dark and the reader comforts him, they comfort each other tbh, elle&morgan my fav duo, glasses reid obvi.
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 4.7k
𝐚/𝐧: these are my official apologies for all the recent stories 🫶🏼 i wanted it to be so much shorter but i just love writing conversations between characters so that's how it turned out. @mggslover i'm so sorry for not adding spencer falling off the bed but i didn't want to ruin that subtle ending :(( maybe next time
"Please, I’m begging you, I’m really begging you—begging in the name of a god I don’t even believe in. Tell me we’ve got the wrong address," Morgan said, squeezing his eyes shut the moment you all crossed the threshold of the motel where you'd been assigned to stay while working on the case in another state.
You noticed Elle’s expression falter as well. From the outside, the place hadn’t looked that bad. Well, perhaps it only seemed that way because the street it was on was so dark you couldn’t make out much of anything. Midnight must have been approaching; the first day of the investigation was officially over.
“We didn’t get it wrong,” Reid declared, stepping inside as the last of you, quickly scanning the interior. “I memorized it perfectly. Besides, there aren’t any other accommodations in the area, so this has to be it.”
“Do you remember that one case,” Elle started, “where the unsub killed women in hotel rooms and decorated the interiors with their intestines?”
You glanced at her, curious—or as curious as you could be under the circumstances. You’d only joined the team fairly recently; this was your third or fourth case at most, and none of them had been quite that… gruesome. Of course, you were well aware cases like that happened. It was only a matter of time before one came your way. Unfortunately.
“This motel totally looks like the kind of place where something like that happens on a daily basis,” Elle continued. “My advice? Don’t look under the beds tonight. Or in the closets, if there even are any.”
“I just hope there’s hot water,” Derek sighed, his voice carrying a tone of resignation. “We once ended up in a place that didn’t have any. I almost handed in my resignation.”
“You deal with gruesome murders every day, but no hot water is too much for you, Princess?” you raised an eyebrow, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye as you made your way toward the reception desk to pick up your room keys. The motel’s walls were yellow—not the cheerful sunflower or sunny kind of yellow, but more like dried-up cat pee yellow.
“He’s got a point, though,” Elle chimed in, taking the key from an elderly woman at the reception desk. “Think about it. You come back after a long, grueling day, from dawn to midnight, just like today. You’re exhausted, barely standing, and you can’t even take a hot shower.”
Morgan pointed at her and nodded in agreement. You shrugged.
“Cold isn’t that bad,” you muttered. Honestly, you hadn’t expected anything luxurious from the place you’d been sent to. It was just a few days, after all.
“Oh, are you one of those people practicing that millionaire morning routine?” Derek teased. “You know—waking up at three, cold shower, steak for breakfast, daily planning, self-help book…”
I just grew up poor, you thought to yourself, but aloud you only let out a short laugh.
“I’d kill to have time to read a book before work. Any book. Not to be yanked out of bed by Hotch at five, like today, and scrambling to get out the door.”
Elle and Morgan exchanged a very brief look, almost secretive. You narrowed your eyes, suspicion suddenly welling up inside you. Before you could ask about it, someone else spoke up.
“He called me at half past six,” Reid said, tilting his head in mild confusion.
Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed the others silencing him with a look.
“Hey, what’s going on?” you stopped in your tracks, demanding an explanation. “He called me half an hour earlier than the rest of you?”
“You live farther away.”
“We’re practically neighbors, Elle Greenaway.”
“I’m about to drop,” Derek suddenly interjected with theatrical exhaustion. A change of subject. A not-so-subtle change of subject. “If I don’t lie down soon, I’ll fall asleep standing up. See you all tomorrow, folks.”
“You’re absolutely right—sleep well.”
With that, he and Elle headed up the stairs to the third floor, where they’d been assigned rooms. You and, as it turned out, Reid were staying on the second floor.
You turned to him slowly, arms crossed over your chest.
You didn’t even need to say anything—your stern gaze alone made it clear you were waiting for an explanation. Reid looked like he was about to throw his hands up in a defensive gesture, clearly regretting that he’d brought up the topic at all.
“Okay,” he sighed nervously. “What I’m about to say is not meant to offend you in any way, not even the slightest…”
“Offend?” you repeated, furrowing your brow. “Jesus Christ, Reid, don’t look at me like that—I’m not about to punch you in the face…”
“It’s just…” he began, a little calmer now. “All of us, including Hotch, I assume, are aware of the fact that, occasionally—just sometimes—you have a slight tendency to…run a bit late to work.”
He looked at you, and a telling silence fell between you.
"Yesterday, you were fourteen and a half minutes late."
"Fifteen minutes doesn't count as being late. And have you heard of a grace period? It's allowed to arrive within that time frame, without any consequences."
"Fine. What about two days ago, twenty-one minutes and seventeen..."
"Metro malfunction. I had no control over that."
"And six days ago, on Tuesday? Twenty-four minutes and..."
"I don’t remember such a situation, because, Mr. Big Brain, not all of us have such a memory. But I assume there was a reason..."
"Alright, fine," Reid interrupted you calmly. "I’m not saying there wasn’t a reason. But still... it happens quite often, and that's a fact. So it’s no surprise that Hotch, when the situation especially calls for it, prefers to call you a little earlier than the rest. Just out of caution."
You sighed, no longer able to argue about it. Maybe he was right; you did sometimes lose track of time in the mornings or fail to wake up to the sound of your alarm, closing your eyes for an extra five minutes... which resulted in small delays. You had never been directly reprimanded for it, so you were unaware that it had become such a big issue. Slightly embarrassed, you pressed your lips together.
"As usual, I guess you're right. And by the way, I’m heading to my room. I had thirty minutes less sleep than all of you, I’m exhausted," you said in a lighter, joking tone. A brief smile crossed Reid’s face. "Good night, wise guy.”
"Good night. And don’t look under the bed."
"Believe me, I wasn’t planning on it!"
With those words, you both disappeared into rooms directly opposite each other. The sounds of doors closing synchronized. You started your usual evening routine, placing your suitcase in the corner of the room. It was really small, narrow, and rectangular. The walls had that same awful color, the light was too bright, causing a headache. So you decided to just turn on the night lamp on the shabby nightstand next to the single bed.
It turned out that the only bathroom was in the hallway. You almost cried; you didn't want to take all your things with you and then come back with them. You remembered that you'd taken a proper shower that morning, so maybe a repeat wasn’t absolutely necessary. You were too sleepy for it, so you just set the alarm for fifteen minutes earlier to do it in the morning. After changing into comfortable clothes, you immediately lay down on the bed. Following Elle’s advice, and then Reid’s too, you didn’t check what might be hiding under it.
You weren’t hiding it, you were a terrible sleeper. Falling asleep in new places usually wasn’t a problem for you, even if it was a place that looked like a dive where someone could stab you in your sleep. But that night, something was bothering you. After giving it some thought, you realized it was Reid’s words.
Of course, it wasn’t that you held it against him. He was just stating facts; he had no intention of offending you, as he assured. And you didn’t even feel offended. More like unpleasantly confronted with a certain fact. You had only been part of the BAU for a short time. Well, just a week ago Derek stopped calling you the new girl. Although on the outside, you came across as very confident, on the inside, you were preoccupied with the team’s opinion of you and what they might think about you. Mainly because they were all older and more experienced.
You were especially worried about the fact that your tardiness and chaos had drawn the boss’s attention. Being on good terms with your superior was incredibly important, in case something ever happened, in case you made a more serious mistake…those small things could influence how the rest of your career would unfold, and the decisions made about you.
But above all, you wanted everyone to like you. Simply like you. So you wouldn’t walk around every day with your heart in your throat, praying for the day to end, constantly overwhelmed by a sense of misfit and loneliness.
You turned to your side, not sure how long you had been lying there, thinking. Suddenly, you realized you had to pee.
With great reluctance and sleepiness, you reached for the bedside lamp to turn it on and go to the bathroom. However, when you tugged at the cord, it... didn’t turn on. The room remained shrouded in darkness. You tried once more, then blindly made your way to the light switch in the room. You pressed it, and nothing.
What was going on, a power outage?
You shook your head in confusion. Whatever was going on, it didn’t change the fact that you had to go to the bathroom. You remembered the flashlight in your jacket pocket, and in the darkness, it took you a while to find it. When you finally had it in your hand, you felt ready to complete the mission. To pee, that is.
The moment you stepped out into the hallway, a light source flared up right before your eyes. You let out a muffled exclamation, partly from surprise, partly from being almost blinded.
“Damn, sorry…” Reid hissed, equally confused, turning his flashlight downward, away from your face.
You rubbed your eyelids, turning off your flashlight. Two light sources were unnecessary.
“Is there no power for you too?” you asked.
Reid nodded. It was only then that you really looked at him—he was wearing very loose pajama pants and...
“Cute,” you clicked your tongue, pointing at his white sweater with a bear wearing glasses. He had them too, worn very low on his nose. He must have put them on absentmindedly, in the dark, right after getting out of bed.
“I got it from Penelope for my birthday,” he said in a tone as if he were giving a statement. His hand briefly touched the fabric, right at the center of the brown bear’s face. “It’s really comfortable and soft. Perfect for sleeping...Anyway, I was heading to the reception to find out what the issue is and whether anything can be done about it. You too?”
"No, I just really need to pee. Do you really want to go there at this hour?" you asked, raising an eyebrow in surprise. "I mean, outages happen, and they'll have to fix it, but it's the middle of the night. We don't really need the lights right now, and if you want to go to the bathroom, you have a flashlight, as I can see."
You kept your gaze on him, realizing that since he noticed the lack of light, he must have been either heading somewhere himself or keeping the light on. Or maybe he had been sleeping with the light on. He did seem a bit tense. One of his hands was still resting on the half-open door, nervously gripping it. The other was pressed tightly to his body, his chest rising in an odd rhythm. Not a quickened pace, like with a panic attack, but more unnatural, like he was trying to control it.
"Are you afraid of the dark?" the question slipped out of you directly. After a moment, you realized it might have been a little too blunt. You had asked it carelessly, suspecting there might be another reason behind his behavior. For some reason, fear of the dark didn’t seem to fit his rational character.
Reid quickly shook his head, firmly denying it.
"No. No, of course not. I was just... reading when the light went out."
Oh, you didn’t even need to be a profiler to see right away that he was lying. You crossed your arms, a little amused by how stubbornly he was denying it.
"You were reading? At this hour? When we’re back to the investigation first thing tomorrow morning?"
He shrugged, shaking his head again.
"I couldn’t sleep."
You sighed. In the end, neither his fear nor his shame were your concern, so you didn’t see the point in interrogating him any further. You signaled that you were dropping the subject, and some expression passed across his face. Gratitude. Gratitude for not pushing the issue or mocking him. You felt a bit offended that he had even thought you might do that.
“If you still plan on going to the reception, wait for me, I’ll go with you. I just need to quickly stop by the bathroom.”
Reid opened his mouth, clearly surprised by your suggestion.
“Well, what?” you replied with a shrug. “I can’t let something eat you on the way. A demonic hand emerging from the darkness…”
“Very funny,” he commented, rolling his eyes. However, the corner of his mouth twitched, and his breathing seemed calmer.
“…The ghost of Richard Ramirez haunting the walls of this hotel. Or some other bloodthirsty maniac.“
"Didn't you really have to pee badly?"
"The team wouldn’t recover from losing you, Reid!" You threw that line over your shoulder as you walked toward the bathroom.
Of course, there was no light there either, so you had to use your flashlight. He was waiting for you, and together, in silence, you headed down the stairs toward the reception. Given how small the motel was, it wasn’t open 24/7. You had to wait a while before someone came to assist you.
“That happens sometimes,” the employee shrugged. “We’re not sure where the problem is exactly, but someone’s supposed to come check it out tomorrow…”
“Can’t anything be done about it now?” Reid asked, a trace of frustration in his voice that he was trying to mask—especially when he glanced at you from the corner of his eye. “Maybe it’s just a simple overload? Where are the fuse boxes…?”
“Reid,” you said gently, placing a hand on his elbow to draw his full attention. He turned his head toward you, surprised by the tone of your voice. You gave the employee a discreet signal that you didn’t have any further questions and he could leave.
“You’re not fixing the electricity in some rundown motel. That would just be… ridiculous.”
“I’m not talking about fixing it,” he clarified quickly, though it was clear he hadn’t let go of the idea. “But in most cases, it’s just a simple short circuit. I could just take a look—”
“—Or you could just sleep in my room.”
The words left your mouth, surprising not only him but also yourself. Yet, it wasn’t as though you regretted them or wanted to take back the offer. On the contrary, the moment you said it out loud, it felt even more fitting. When you were a little kid—like most children, probably—you’d also been afraid of the dark, and running to someone else’s room always helped. Curling up beside someone, just knowing someone was there, made all the difference.
You watched his reaction, the way he shook his head slightly from side to side, a small frown creasing his forehead.
“You’re joking, right?”
“Not at all. Come on.” You grabbed him by the wrist—the hand not holding the flashlight—and pulled him along. He moved hesitantly, but he seemed too caught off guard to plant his feet and stay put.
He stopped only when you reached the door to your room, pulling his hand free from your grasp.
"How do you even imagine this working? There's... there's only one bed in there."
"If that bothers you, grab the mattress and some bedding from your room. You’ll hardly notice the difference—those beds are unbearably uncomfortable anyway."
He lowered the flashlight slightly, letting the surrounding darkness of the hallway creep over his face. It was barely visible now, but the hesitation etched on it was unmistakable. Standing across from him, you held his gaze without saying a word, silently reinforcing the fact that you weren’t joking.
The thought of him struggling to fall asleep for the rest of the night and then suffering through another day made you feel genuinely sorry for him. Besides, even though you hadn’t known each other long, you already considered him a sort of friend. If there was anything you could do to help, you wanted to do it.
"It's no big deal, Spencer," you reassured him one last time, hoping the words would finally sink in. "Really. And if you want... we don't ever have to talk about this again. Tomorrow, or ever."
His chest rose as he drew in a deep breath.
"Th-thank you," he said at last, cautiously, as though he'd packed so many thoughts into the single word that saying it out loud was an effort.
You smiled gently and understandingly. Before stepping into the room, you briefly placed a hand on his arm.
"Oh God, that sweater really is soft..."
He let out a short laugh, perhaps releasing a bit of the embarrassment he’d been holding back. You both disappeared into your respective rooms, and you lay down in bed, waiting for him to show up. Well, the moment dragged on a little too long.
You were almost certain he’d only agreed to your suggestion to get you off his back and had no intention of actually following through. Propping yourself up on one elbow, you debated whether to go to his room and drag him over or just let it go. They say you shouldn’t force help on others. Maybe there was some truth to that.
Shortly after that thought, your door creaked open slowly. You heard it but couldn’t see much—the room was too dark, and he wasn’t using his flashlight. Perhaps he assumed you were already asleep and didn’t want to risk waking you.
Either way, he moved around your bed to lay down a pillow and blanket on the floor, skipping the effort of hauling over an entire mattress.
"Your back is going to hurt," you remarked softly, your voice adjusting to the rhythm of the night, blending with the surrounding darkness.
You lay on your side, facing the spot where he had set up his makeshift bed. All you could see was the outline of his figure, his hands clasped loosely over his stomach, head resting on the pillow. You even caught the slight shrug of his shoulders in response to your comment.
"Actually, sleeping on the floor can have health benefits. It helps maintain a neutral spine position," he replied.
“Seriously?” you scoffed. “Do you really have to come up with a counterargument for everything I say?”
“Such a curse of mine. If you don’t like it, well, you invited me here.”
“Annoying bastard. I guess it’s too late to kick you out?” you wondered aloud, of course, rhetorically. But you quickly added, worried that he might take it seriously, “Sleep well. You and your spine.”
An amused sigh escaped him.
“You… and your spine too.”
Well, you guessed that's enough of the chit-chat. You felt a bit disappointed, but you had brought him here for a reason. To let him sleep, not to entertain you with conversation. To your surprise, you didn’t feel sleepy, even though you had struggled with it earlier. You had been thinking about... hard to even pinpoint what, there were a few things. The little worries typical of the night, suddenly growing to some huge proportions.
You were still lying in the same position, some time had passed. Your cheek was almost touching the edge of the bed, on the same side where Reid slept. Well, actually, he wasn’t sleeping. You could see a faint, barely noticeable gleam of his open eyes. They were cast downward, trying not to stare into the empty blackness above his head.
“Have you always been afraid of the dark?” you decided to ask, with no sarcasm.
“I’m not afraid,” he replied, though he could always pretend to be asleep. But the answer came out automatically.
“Alright, brave guy.” You didn’t even scoff, you just said it calmly and accepting. Maybe later he’ll tell you, when he stops being so embarrassed about it. “So, I guess you came here to get to know me better. And you know, I think you’ve got the chance. Could you... could you tell me something? Just honestly?”
"Me?" he asked, surprised, even sitting up slightly. "I mean... sure. But what?"
You suddenly sighed, regretting even bringing up the topic. God, that was so stupid...
"Just remember, honestly. Do you think the rest of the team likes me?"
Reid was silent, a strange feeling gathered in your stomach. Instead of answering negatively, he propped himself up on both elbows, and you saw a slight movement of his head. A nod.
"Are you asking this completely seriously?"
You shrugged, not sure if he noticed, so you confirmed out loud in a slightly hoarse voice. And then, to your absolute surprise, he just laughed.
"I don’t get it," he confessed after a short moment during which you stared in silence at his silhouette. "How... how could you think it could be any different? You’re always joking with Derek and Elle, and... we get along well too, I hope..."
"You’re right. But... but that’s not what I meant, I just... ugh, seriously, I can’t explain it. Fine, you know what, never mind."
You turned onto your back, as if that would completely sever the conversation. The one you’d stupidly started. You hoped he wouldn’t mention it to anyone. Another stupid thought, after all, he wasn’t like that.
Silence again, broken only by breaths. A new sound joined them, a slight rustle of the sheets. When Reid spoke again, his voice sounded somehow higher, and you were sure he was sitting on the floor as he said it.
"It might be a little surprising, but when I was a kid, I wasn't afraid of the dark," he began, completely changing the tone of his voice. He wasn't surprised like before; it was lower, gentler, despite the topic he was addressing. "I mean, I wasn't afraid of it more than any other kid my age. That... that serious fear, the real fear, started later. I don't want to say it was when I started working for the BAU because that wouldn't be entirely true. But it was around the time I started taking everything seriously. Seeing it with my own eyes, every day."
You didn't even realize when you had turned back onto your side, just to look at him, listening to his words.
"Do you have nightmares?" you asked.
"Sometimes. Actually..." he sighed, swallowing. "All of it, the fear and the nightmares, it's like they don't exist when I'm in a place I know. A place I trust. I can sleep just fine with the lights off in my apartment, the same in a jet. Everything starts in places like this. “
There was silence from your side, and you felt a bit… touched that he decided to tell you this. No beating around the bush, no lying, and, most importantly, no overwhelming embarrassment. It was a normal topic after all; everyone has their fears.
"And you?"
"What about me?"
"Do you have nightmares?"
In the first few days after starting the job, you did. Then they stopped. That’s just how things go, you suppose.
"Not anymore," you admitted, letting out a small laugh. "But that doesn’t mean I sleep well. Now I just worry at night."
"About whether the team likes you?"
"Okay, I know it sounds childish, but it’s really been bothering me lately. They might… they might seem to like me, but deep down, they might not think that highly of me. I… I'm new, not that experienced, I’m always late, and I don’t think I’m bringing anything new to the table..."
"Of course, you’re bringing something," he interrupted you. You hadn’t noticed when, but you were both sitting up now. Your voices weren’t sleepy whispers anymore, you were having a real conversation. "Each of us brings something different, something characteristic of ourselves. That's how it works in a team. That’s why you’re here. Without you… okay, you might not know this, but since you’ve been here, these last four cases have gone much more smoothly."
"Do you really think so?"
"Well, you asked me to be honest. Completely honest."
You've always had a bit of imposter syndrome, doubting your abilities, and approaching others' positive comments about you or your achievements with skepticism.
Something in the way he spoke, his quick words, his engagement in them... made you believe him, somehow.
"Reid," you began, surprised to find that there was less weight in your chest, in your body. "I know, I just know, that you'll refuse, but still, I'll ask. Do you want to lie down with me?"
You didn't even know what exactly prompted the question. Caring about your back, you could answer. But was that really all it was?
For a moment, he was silent, thinking you were joking, but when it dawned on him that you weren't, he scoffed.
"Well, you were right, I'll refuse..."
"Sorry, but I doubt you'll fall asleep any other way. I was watching you, as creepy as that sounds. You were lying there with your eyes open, you were scared."
"I'm an adult man who's afraid of the dark. That's pathetic on its own, without being tucked to sleep by a coworker."
"I never mentioned anything about tucking you in."
He hesitated, embarrassed.
"You took the least important part of my statement..."
"I took what I wanted. The rest is nonsense. Your age doesn't determine what you can or can't be afraid of. I'm a grown woman, and I'm afraid my colleagues don't like me. Which sounds more pathetic, huh? Fear of the dark or that?"
“I think it’s a point we could argue about for hours.”
“Which we don’t have. It’s late, we should go to sleep. Quick question, are you lying down with me, or are you fooling yourself into thinking you’ll fall asleep without it?”
A heavy, resigned sigh escaped him. Without adding anything else to his words, you turned onto your side, your back to him. You heard the rustling of the sheets, and for a moment, you froze, surprised. But no, he hadn’t joined you.
You weren’t sure how you felt. Disappointed seemed like too strong a word. It wasn’t as though he had refused some incredibly important request of yours. It was just… perhaps the best explanation would be that, once you had convinced him to sleep in the same room for the sake of helping him, you wanted him to take something comforting from that night. You wanted it to be one of those good nights, like the ones he had in his apartment or in the jet, the ones he had mentioned. Not one of the others, filled with fear.
But then, the mattress beside you dipped, as someone else settled onto it.
You turned to the other side, and suddenly your faces were right across from each other. Reid swallowed, almost nervously. He seemed to be adjusting to the situation, to the sudden closeness, the small space you shared. You propped your hand under your head, observing him discreetly. It hit you that he always had a bit of an issue with contact with others. A doubt crossed your mind: had you made him uncomfortable?
Minutes passed, though, and his body seemed to sink more comfortably into the bed. His arms were no longer stiff, his hands resting freely, no longer clasped tightly across his chest. You could also hear his breath, and the more peaceful it became, the calmer you felt too.
And even though no words seemed necessary anymore, he decided to speak once again.
"Thank you."
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THE BAU PLAYING MINECRAFT:
JJ: Is busy filling in the map—no one has seen her for days but she has pillaged 3 villages and has an inventory full of saddles and gold bars. Has not spoken for 30 minutes and has left Cheeto dust prints all over Penelope’s white controller.
EMILY: Will never finish building that mob spawner because she is too busy trolling everyone on the server, especially Morgan—he keeps falling into her TNT traps.
ELLE: Is the one supplying Emily with the TNT, and switches between doing that and helping Spencer make a farm in the corner. Keeps disappearing to the nether and won’t tell anyone why.
SPENCER: Making a detailed inventory system in the base storage room and leaves everyone instructions on little wooden signs.
PENELOPE: Spends all her time dying sheep pink and collecting flowers, is ‘decorating’ their base, and has tamed 6 animals.
MORGAN: Running from Emily by day, by night, is down in the mines ‘providing’ for the group and killing mobs. His death count (thanks to Emily) stands at 9.
HOTCH: Thinks it’s called ‘Mein Kraft’ and leaves game night after 10 minutes to take work calls.
ROSSI: “When were you guys gonna tell me my controller wasn’t connected?!”
Check out my Masterlist for more BAU scenarios!
#criminal minds#emily prentiss#criminal minds memes#jennifer jareau#jemily#spencer reid#incorrect criminal minds#aaron hotchner#derek morgan#incorrect criminal minds quotes#elle greenaway#penelope garcia#david rossi#minecraft
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idk if you do headcanons but I wanna know what you think each member of the BAU team would get you for your birthday?
<33
hi !! yes i def do general headcanons too, and this is such a good idea 🫶
birthday bash ☆ the B.A.U.
characters aaron hotchner, spencer reid, emily prentiss, derek morgan, jennifer jareau, david rossi, penelope garcia, tara lewis, luke alvez, elle greenaway; can be seen as platonic or romantic with any character
content just some general headcanons
aaron hotchner is incredibly observant and he cares for his team, so he will make sure you get at least a basket-full worth of stuff. he’ll likely say it’s from everyone on the team, even if he did pay for everything in the basket himself. he also goes out of his way to get presents for people he cares about (à la the halloween special where he got that darth vader mask for jack). included in the basket are some office supplies, flowers (of course), candies, and maybe a replacement of something you broke (like your favourite mug).
spencer reid will make sure to get you something that is functional from both an aesthetic standpoint and a practical one. of course, he’ll likely get you rare books with the pages yellow and worn from use, but are still delightfully charming, even if you’re not that interested in the contents of those pages. he’ll also treat you to a sort of last-minute-birthday-breakfast if you’re all called in to work, where he’ll get you your favourite pastry and coffee/tea, just the way you like it. antiquities are also a go to, whether it’s jewellery or otherwise.
emily prentiss is an enigma when it comes to gift giving; nobody knows what she’s getting for you, and nobody knows if it’s going to be a joke present or a genuinely thoughtful one (or some combination of the two). one present she might get for you are aphrodisiac chocolates because “you’ll never know if you get lucky” (her words).
derek morgan likely wouldn’t get you a genuinely thoughtful gift at first if you were relatively new to the team. but after some time on cases and at the office and such, he will put effort into his gifts. so for your first birthday with the team, he might play it safe by getting you gift cards; but after getting to know you more, he’ll get you something that is geared to your tastes, but it will be a gift that will remind you of him. although, he is just as likely as emily to get you a joke present, if not more.
jennifer jareau’s presents are quite rushed on account of her having to balance being an agent and a mom, but she does put a lot of heart into them. she knows more than anyone how taxing the job can get at times, so expect some well-deserved spa day coupons that she managed to find strewn around her place. it’s possible she’ll get you a couple instead of one. she will also likely give you a couple drawings henry and michael made, and you can bet that you’ll hang that up on your fridge at home.
david rossi in the early seasons (especially season three) would very likely not even plan on getting you a present unless he was reminded by hotch. however, in the later seasons, rossi definitely acts like the wine aunt who gives you straight up cash as a present. expect anywhere from $100 – $1k+, he has to use up the money he got from being a best-selling author somehow. also alcohol; he will get you expensive bottles of whiskey, scotch or wine, no room for argument (unless you have a legitimate reason).
penelope garcia goes all out for your birthday; obviously she puts the most effort in her gifts and more. for her presents, she will buy quite a lot, to the point where she might spend maybe half her pay check on the presents. her gifts mostly consist of decorations mostly for aesthetic purposes, but has little to do with everyday use. possible presents coming from her include paintings, pillows, fidget toys and mugs, all of which are very colourful. but she doesn’t just stop there with presents; she will likely organize a group dinner (or maybe a group breakfast, just in case of a possible case).
tara lewis is simultaneously the least expected and most expected member of the team to be a chaotic gift giver. she will also likely get you a joke present but while emily would get you something along the lines of a prank present, tara’s presents would be subtle and remind you of inside jokes either within the team or just between the two of you. also, expect alcohol, quite a number of the team will get you a bottle, including tara.
luke alvez definitely tries the hardest with his gifts (after penelope, of course), especially if he’s newer on the team. he’ll ask around for any ideas, either on what to get you or what kind of person you are with the team so he can figure it out for himself. if you have a dog (or two…or five), he will spoil the dog rotten with new toys, biscuits or dog accessories — which he probably collaborated with penelope on.
elle greenaway’s presents are ones that you shouldn’t really open with most of the team present because of their explicit nature. she’ll probably get you incredibly revealing swimwear (yet another collaboration with penelope), and also alcohol — specifically hard liquor. those are likely to be the only presents that you can actually open in front of everybody on the team without getting a lot of stares.
taglist @queermaxwooo @pleasantwitchgarden @hbwrelic @kissesforapence @theoraekenslover join the taglist!
#✩ ⊹˖ ꒰ aaron ꒱ ୨🎧୧#✩ ⊹˖ ꒰ spencer ꒱ ୨🎧୧#✩ ⊹˖ ꒰ emily ꒱ ୨🎧୧#✩ ⊹˖ ꒰ derek ꒱ ୨🎧୧#✩ ⊹˖ ꒰ jennifer ꒱ ୨🎧୧#✩ ⊹˖ ꒰ penelope ꒱ ୨🎧୧#✩ ⊹˖ ꒰ luke ꒱ ୨🎧୧#✩ ⊹˖ ꒰ elle ꒱ ୨🎧୧#✩ ⊹˖ ꒰ the bau ꒱ ୨🎧୧#criminal minds#spencer reid#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds x you#spencer reid x reader#aaron hotch x reader#aaron hotchner#emily prentiss#emily prentiss x reader#derek morgan#derek morgan x reader#jennifer jareau x reader#jennifer jareau#david rossi#penelope garcia#penelope garcia x reader#tara lewis#tara lewis x reader#luke alvez#luke alvez x reader#elle greenaway x reader
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law in pink | s.r
♡ next part ♡
summary: when the BAU needs an extra helping hand, Washington decides to send the best of the best, but what they didn't expect was to see... pink.
warnings: a bit of stereotypes, beyond that a bit of comedy and fluff. there may be mistakes in writing because I wrote it too fast :(
this story is spencer reid (season 7) x ssa elle woods!reader
words: 1,649 words.
a/n: elle woods from legally blonde comes to my mind constantly because is one of my favorite movies, so I wanted to make a mix called "ssa elle woods"; I hope you like it and you can understand the idea of reader as elle woods, I also hope I didn't portray it wrong and that it will be misunderstood T T
The BAU needed a hand with the rising crime wave, so, straight from Washington they sent the best of the best from their office.
And of course Penelope had to investigate.
According to her research, you had graduated from Harvard with honors and had given the honorary alumni speech at your class graduation. In addition, you were a part-time Harvard professor of Political Theory during the fall and part of a prolific group of researchers in your Washington office, which had the highest rate of successfully resolved cases in the last 5 years.
In addition, you had achieved on your LSAT a score of 179 out of 180 points.
Something inside Penelope reminded her a little of her friend, Spencer Reid, in you.
But what she didn't expect to see when she looked you up on the interwebs was the fashionista and family friendly life you had. The way your apartment was decorated with a pretty pink aesthetic, your outfits videos that reached millions of views and your day to day routines were the mantra of many girls, being all perfectly edited.
With that and more, anyone would think that your job was not to be a federal agent, but an influencer.
Penelope was already smelling perfume from her computer, and that made her more than eager to meet you.
It was seeing one just like her in front of her screen.
You were the perfect candidate to be her new best friend.
The clacking of your heels and the smell of your Chanel perfume filled the entire BAU office, causing the complicit glances of all the workers who were there.
"Have you seen Barbie yet?" "Is the model missing?" "What about her? Maybe she's a lost intern. First-timer problems."
Everyone was making comments you'd heard more than once in some police office, maybe it was the way you dressed didn't go along with the aesthetic they had or how feminine your attire might be, but that's who you were and for a couple of comments about your appearance and the stereotype they had they weren't going to sour your day.
"Excuse me, are you looking for someone?"
You turned to see a tall, dark man, who was watching your outfit from last season's Prada fit you to perfection.
"Oh! Finally someone nice." You commented with a smile. "Yes, I'm looking for Agent Aaron Hotchner."
"He's my boss, would you like help finding his office? I can help you."
"That would be great, thank you very much..."
"Agent Morgan, Derek Morgan."
"It's a pleasure, Agent Derek. I'm Y/N, nice to meet you."
You didn't like to introduce yourself officially as an agent, it made you look rather intimidating if you did, and that was what you didn't want.
It wasn't a long walk to the wooden door which was adorned by a plaque with the name of the person you were looking for.
"This is it, you come for a case? Any family members involved?"
"No, I'm coming to help. Thank you very much, by the way."
You gave him one last smile before knocking on the door, hearing a "pass" from inside.
"Who was the girl you were escorting, Derek?" Emily watched the man reach them, peering curiously inside Hotch's office.
"Her name is Y/N, she said she was coming to help, but... I don't know, she doesn't look like someone coming to help, maybe she's a witness."
Spencer's eyes scanned the situation, trying to conclude who the mystery woman inside his boss's office was about, but coming up with nothing on the spot. Like his friends, they were all searching for an answer to the abiding doubt in his head.
Who exactly was that girl and why had she said that? She didn't seem like a person whose job was an office job, but not one that was very risky either.
But before they could say anything, Aaron came out of the office with his ever-serious face.
"Meeting in 5" was the only thing he announced, so the group took heed and went to the place.
Once inside the office, Penelope found herself with her dear friends, who were trying to figure out the causes of the recent meeting.
"You don't know Pen either, do you?" J.J. was the first to speak.
"No idea, Hotch just asked me to be here."
"Just like everyone else." Rossi replied, settling around the round table with his coffee cup.
The conversation didn't last long when Hotch entered the boardroom.
"Good. I know there's no case yet or apparent reason to get them together first thing." Hotch began. "But as you may know, the last couple of months have seen an increase in crime for the BAU, which is exactly why we've been given extra funding to bring an extra agent onto the team."
Sounds of excitement came from everyone's mouths.
"So I've been contacting old colleagues, who recommended the best of the best. So they've transferred an agent from Washington to help us."
"Boy, they must be desperate." Derek's comment drew a few chuckles.
"I'd like to introduce you to the SSA, Y/N Woods."
Everyone's countenance changed to one of surprise when they saw you walk in, smiling in the friendliest way possible.
The same girl who looked like a model fresh off a runway was the newest member of the BAU.
"It's nice to meet you all, I hope we can work well together." You set your Prada bag to the side, being able to scan each of the members quickly.
"Woods, this is SSA Emily Prentiss, Derek Morgan, Jennifer Jareau, David Rossi, dr. Spencer Reid and our technical analyst, Penelope Garcia."
"Hey, I know you." You commented in the direction of Garcia, who was smiling politely. "You were the girl who commented on my recipe for the vegetarian tacos."
"Yes! They looked exquisite."
"Thank you very much, I hope they were helpful. We need to be a little more conscientious with our four-legged friends."
Spencer didn't know if he was dazzled by the whiteness of your teeth or the warm way you had entered into trust with Penelope with a simple recipe.
"Woods, Garcia. You'll have time to talk."
"I'm sorry, sir." They both replied at the same time.
"Fine, I'll go prepare the case, Garcia come with me."
They both walked out of the meeting room, leaving you alone with the rest of your new group of colleagues.
"I didn't know you were an agent." Derek was the first to break the silence surrounding them, causing you to turn in his direction.
"I didn't mean to mention it, I'm not a person who usually blurts it out just like that on the first interaction. You never know what kind of person a stranger is." You commented before you could look at him again. "No offense."
"No problem."
"From Washington, right?" Your gaze went to the blonde, who was watching from her position with a warm smile.
"That's right, even though I'm from California but I moved to Massachusetts after getting into Harvard, and then to Washington when I got an opening in the federal office there. So I'm from here, there and over there, but I'll always be a California gurl." A chuckle came out of your mouth after making a reference to the Katy Perry song, bringing your hands to your sides.
"Harvard? What did you study?" Spencer looked more and more interested.
"Law." You commented offhandedly. "I actually studied Fashion Merchandising at UCLA with a 4.0 GPA. But I wanted to prove myself and decided to get into Harvard Law."
"Switching from Fashion Merchandising at UCLA to Harvard Law is a big jump, how much did you get on your entrance exam?" Rossi asked.
"179."
Everyone's surprised face made an impression on you.
"What, like it's hard?" your eyelashes fluttered softly, before you remembered what you were holding as a "peace offering". "By the way, I made cookies yesterday for being the first day and making a good impression." Your hands went to your bag, pulling out a heart-shaped tupperware. "They're lavender and butter, it's a recipe I read on a fairly well known blog forum, they say Paris Hilton gets her recipes from there."
You held out the tupper to each of them to take out a cookie, leaving it on the table in case they liked to take out more.
"If they like more, just pull out. There's enough for everyone." A little smile tugged at your mouth. But before you heard any response from either person, the catchy ringtone of Gwen Stefani's "Rich Girl" interrupted any culinary criticism. "Excuse me..." Your hand went for your phone, which didn't surprise others by being pink, and you left the room letting out a "Woods" as you answered.
"This is new." Derek said.
"And delicious." Emily took another bite of her cookie.
"She's different than what we usually know." Rossi looked at the rest, taking a second cookie out of the tupper. "But I don't mind at all, in fact, I think new always comes in good."
"True, it's always good to have someone new and with a different vibe."
The group turned to look at Reid, who was holding the cookie with his right hand. The young man wasn't usually one to blurt out a comment, just like that, least of all referring to a girl.
"Oh kid, you find her attractive." Derek was the first to smile in amusement.
"What, no." The voice in a higher pitched tone than normal was what gave Spencer away.
"Spencer likes Y/N." J.J annoyed, walking out of the office laughing along with Emily.
"That's not true!"
"See ya, lover boy." Derek commented along with Rossi, who was gently patting his shoulder with a knowing smile.
And so it was that Spencer was left in the meeting room with his cheeks as pink as his new co-worker's heels.
♡ next part ♡
If you like it, don't forget to like and repost it.
a lot of love, alme. ❀
#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid blurb#spencer reid fanfic#blurb#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds#spencer reid x elle woods!reader#legally blonde is superior#alme was here!
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Postcards - Part 1 [LN4]
lando norris x journalist fem!reader
find the series here
word count: 10k
summary: The one where everything begins. You are working a gala and run into Lando Norris. A whirlwind evening brings you to a crossroads, your budding new relationship hanging in the balance.
warnings: tiny bit a swearing here and there, slight sexual innuendo, angst, all around pretty mild (for nowww)
author's note: I am so excited to start this series!! I have been planing and scheming and I can't wait for you all to see it unfold. Releasing part one is completely surreal. As always, feedback is appreciated, so please let me know of any questions/concerns/comments you have. Lots of love and I hope you enjoy!! [xoxo elle]
December 2021
With trembling fingers, you smooth out the fabric of your evening dress. You’ve done this countless times already, but another time can’t hurt. After checking yourself over in the mirror once more, running your fingers through your hair to make sure it looks right, and dabbing on a little more lip gloss, you exit the bathroom to rejoin your colleagues.
The event space sparkles around you with seasonal cheer. For the last few weeks, you were volunteered, without your consent, to help your department put on a charity gala. Since you were the freshest hire, it made sense that you were put on tasks that didn’t exactly fit your job description.
When you started working for a prestigious international publication based in Monaco, you expected to jump right in. You were an eager early graduate ready to take on the world at the ripe age of 21. Since you walked into the office on your very first day, you itched to grab your camera and hop on a flight anywhere to start chasing a story. Instead, you’ve spent the last few months being assigned to this and that around the office, slowly climbing your way up the metaphorical totempole.
Was it egregious at first? Most definitely.
Being in one place for an extended amount of time has never been your thing. You did two years of university on campus, but quickly grew tired of it. So, you switched to online and finished up in record time, all while hopping from place to place. However, you’ve slowly grown accustomed to seeing the same people everyday and making friends along the way while working in Monaco. It surprises you how fond you’ve become of this place. You’ve never called anywhere home, but this city has become as close as you think you’ll ever get.
Picking up your camera bag and black leather binder, you make your way towards the bar where the rest of the team set up shop. As you walk over to the huddle, you take a minute to truly admire all the work put into this gala. The giant arching windows of the event space are dressed in white and gold silks that match the table cloths and decor. Glittering lights hang from the vaulted ceiling, casting a warm glow over the large room. Candles line every table, causing the glasses and white porcelain plates to sparkle in the sultry lighting. There’s a dance floor in the front of the room, behind which is a short stage filled with the hired band’s instruments. And finally, there’s your favorite part. On the far side of the room, a silent auction is being held. There are tables lined with exclusive works from your company. There are first editions, rare prints, iconic autographed pieces, everything that makes a journalist or a collector want to combust. Finding all of the works that are on auction tonight was an incredibly difficult task, but equally as gratifying. It all looks just how you imagined it – exactly how you planned it.
Stealing a few more seconds for yourself, you snap a few shots of the details. The lighting gives the photos a sensual cascade of warm colors. You adore the way they look and can’t wait to capture more moments as the night goes on.
You hear your name being called from over by the bar. Snapping out of your creative stupor, you briskly walk over to the small crowd of your coworkers. They’re going over final checks to make sure everything is in order before we open the doors in an hour. Bobbi, serving as point for tonight's event, delegates tasks to everyone. As they’re assigned a duty, they bugger off to execute it as quickly as possible. After everyone leaves, it’s just you and Bobbi.
“You need to work your camera so hard tonight that you have to invoice the company for a new one.” She says pointedly, her tone firm and commanding. Bobbi has the ‘scary leader’ bit down to a science. However, you’re not afraid of her. She’s genuinely a great person, not to mention a brilliant writer, and also the closest friend you’ve probably ever had. She’s a couple years older than you and has been a bit of a mentor over the months that you’ve worked under her. She’s the no-nonsense to your fully nonsense life. In short, she keeps you grounded, humble.
“Working her like a racehorse, boss.” You confirm, nodding and giving her a mock-serious face.
“Don’t call me that.” She says while collecting her things into a neat pile. “And wipe that look off your face before it gets stuck like that.”
That puts a small smile on your face as she walks away. You watch as she stops here and there, straightening things out or fixing a wrinkle in a table cloth. Quickly, you snap a couple shots of her when she’s not looking. She looks effortlessly classy in her black dress and heels and slicked back black hair. You can’t help but hope you look as put together as her. But the chances are good you most definitely don’t. A word to the wise: if you’re going to live in Monaco, learn how to dress. Everything here is to the nines or not at all.
The next hour until the doors open is quick, maybe too quick. You’re in a bit of a tizzy as the guests start arriving. There are countless paparazzis and journalists waiting alongside the carpeted stairs that bring the guests to the front doors. You stand stationed inside to capture the night in candids. Your photos will be used in the next publication, so you have to do well. There’s a lot riding on your performance tonight. No pressure, right?
Glittering people slip through the doors, spilling into the event. You watch from the edges and shadows as their mouths fall open at the splendor. They lean into each other and whisper about the decor and ambiance. It makes your heart race, wondering exactly what they’re saying. It’s the nosy journalist in you that needs an answer to every question.
When the moment feels right, you snap pictures as discreetly as you can. It’s your job to be invisible amongst the party-goers. These people are here for charity and to socialize. The money that they haul in with them is far more than you could even bear to think about. It drips from them as they walk; it tumbles from their pockets, unnoticed. Celebrities and politicians and everyone in between has been invited tonight. There’s a tight feeling in your chest as you take picture after picture of the wealthy. There’s a large disconnect between you and these people. Not so long ago, it was a great day if you ended up with three meals and clean clothes to wear. Now look at you–taking pictures of men who wear watches that could finance the rest of your life.
As the time slides by and the sun settles itself into the horizon, the flow of guests has nearly stopped. A few tailenders slip in before the doors close, signifying the real beginning of the night. The music plays quietly in the background, but is nearly drowned out by the chatter that rises from each and every table. There are groups of people standing and socializing, a few people slung along the bar, and the rest are seated at their assigned spots. Sighing, you let your camera fall to your side for the first time since the first guest arrived. You’ve been working the room, snapping shots of any and everything that catches your eye.
You walk back over to the foyer, seeking out one last shot before the meal is served and toasts begin. As you walk, you adjust the settings on your camera so you’ll get the shot just right. Without checking around you, you bring the camera up to your eye to test the settings by taking a couple photos. Immediately, your eye catches on someone in the viewfinder. He’s standing along the wall, his head ducked down into a glass of champagne. His eyes are scanning over the bustling crowd of people. You can only see him in profile, but he looks nearly perfect leaned up against that wall with the icy glass pressed to his lips. His black suit glitters in the soft lighting along with his eyes. His skin is a warm tan, working blessedly well with the lighting that surrounds him. Quickly, you zoom in and frame up a better shot of just him. The shutter snaps shut a few times. As it does so, you watch in horror as the man starts to turn his face toward you, looking right down your lens. You capture it all in a line of photos. His furrowed frown melts into a sly smile as he catches you photographing him. He laughs a little while shaking his head.
When you finally take a moment to look at him, you find that you actually know him. Well, know of him. Bobbi’s son has forced you to sit down and watch Formula One reruns with him on multiple occasions. The face of one of his favorite drivers is this face in front of you. Lando Norris, Formula One driver for McLaren. And by the looks of it, a total cocky bastard. A cute bastard, but bastard nonetheless.
Needing to escape this situation, you try to remember why you were over here. You can’t believe you got so distracted so quickly. Thinking briefly, you remember the photo that you need to take. Just as you turn around to find the shot, a voice rumbles in your ear. His accent is acutely British and sends a wave of chills running down your spine. He’s unnervingly close, his breath hitting your ear and neck. It should make you terribly uncomfortable, but it doesn’t.
“Did you get my good side?” He asks smoothly, a hint of humor in his voice. As you turn to face him, there’s a cheeky smile plastered onto his young face. Seeing him this close, it strikes you now just how young he is. He can’t be much older than you, if at all. His hazel eyes are bright and glinting with humor as you stare him down.
“That depends,” You muse, folding your arms over your chest. “Which side is that?”
“You tell me, you’re the professional.” He shoots back with a wink while gesturing at your camera with his glass of champagne. You catch yourself before rolling your eyes, it’s too early to be harassing the guests. Instead, you decide to play his little game. You’re always up for a game.
Bringing your fingers to tap against your lips, you hum in faux concentration. Tentatively, you take steps to the right, examining his left side.
“No…” You say, expressing that it wasn’t his “good side.” But it’s simply not true, all of his sides are good sides. Pressing on, you take a few steps to your left to check out the right side.
“No,” You say again, a little more firmly. Instead of standing in front of him once more, you continue to walk around him.
“Ah!” Humor is clear in your voice as you stop directly behind him, staring at the back of his head. His hair is fluffy, but styled nicely for tonight. His neck is long and thick, causing his suit to bunch at the collar just slightly. His hands are tucked together behind his back, his glass dangerously close to spilling the remaining contents. You have to admit that he’s quite cute. The internal admission makes you blush to yourself.
“This is perfect.” You joke, trying to shake off your thoughts about him. You bring your camera out to take a couple shots of him. His head turns to the side just enough so you can capture a sliver of his face in your last photo. Once you’re done snapping pictures, he turns around with his tongue tracing over his front teeth. There’s a coy smile that plays on his pink lips. He takes your joke in stride, the humor most definitely not lost on him. You like a man who can take a joke.
“Jokes on you, I know I have a lovely backside.” He says quietly while leaning in to you slightly. One of his eyebrows pops up while he grins at you. You scoff a little while shaking your head. He’s nearly exactly as you’d imagined him. The way his eyes sparkle captivates you, drawing you in. In this lighting it's hard to tell exactly what the color of his irises are, but it’s a challenge you would love to take. You think about holding him close and slowly piecing together the puzzle that is Lando Norris.
Just as you’re about to make a witty comment about his backside, the feedback of a microphone turning on pulls your attention away. Suddenly, you remember that you’re not here to chat and flirt with the guests. You’re on the clock. Chiding yourself for being so easily distracted, you quickly switch the memory SD card in your camera for a new one.
“Duty calls,” You say quietly to Lando, “Excuse me.”
He blinks at you a couple of times, unsure of how to proceed. It looks as if he wasn’t expecting you to dash out on him. The thought makes you laugh. Everyone should expect you to dash out at the first chance. Though, as you look into his eyes, for the first time in a long time, maybe you don’t want to run. And that scares the shit out of you. Before you do something you’ll definitely regret, you turn on your heels to escape to anywhere but here.
“Make sure you send those to me. I love a good ass pic.” Lando calls to you as you walk away. In spite of yourself, you send him a grin over your shoulder before disappearing around the corner.
For the rest of the night, you try to focus on your job, but you catch your eye wandering. Whether it be of desire or compulsion, you weren’t completely sure, you look for him in the crowd of people. You search for him in the photos you take. His smile has etched itself into your long term memory, his charming demeanor dances across your mind. Savoring every time you get a half glance of him or just a piece of him in one of your photos, you can’t help but wonder if you’ll ever speak to him again.
The gala drags on. Party-goers get drunk and spend copious amounts on things that most of them will just hang on a wall to glance at occasionally. Staying to the edges as you’ve been told to, you watch in on these people. As you do, you feel something odd settling in your chest, a feeling that you’ll never belong here truly. It’s not a foreign feeling to you anymore, not after everything you’ve been through. However, rejection is rejection. All you are to these people is a silly girl with a camera, a wallflower, the help. A wave of emotion crests in your mind and crashes down into your heart. The overwhelming feeling of needing to run away from here, to escape these people and their frivolous lives takes over all of your senses.
Checking the time, you decide that you’ve done your part. It’s late into the night and the gala seems to be winding down. Sliding along the walls of the room, you make your way over to the corner where Bobbi has been looming all night. Her eyes scan over a paper in her binder as you sidle up next to her. She gives you a half glance before continuing to read whatever is in front of her.
“Leaving?” Bobbi says in that specific Bobbi way that makes you feel caught. You blame it on the fact that she’s a mother. Hence why you can’t help but feel like a small child caught in the act.
“Uh, if that’s alright with you, bos–Bobbi.” You stammer, feeling a little out of sorts. You usually aren’t the stumbling and bumbling type. Bobbi doesn’t miss it. She side-eyes you carefully, analyzing you from head to toe. After a couple of seconds of feeling like a circus spectacle, she sighs and closes the black binder in her hands.
“Go,” Bobbi says as her hands drop to her sides. “I’ll see you on Monday.”
Relief floods through you as the words come out of her mouth. You’re so pleased you think you could actually kiss her on the mouth. But that would be highly unprofessional while on the job. Instead, you thank her verbally.
Dashing off, you collect your bag and coat from the room in the front. You carefully tuck away your camera into your bag and pull out your wallet. The party continues behind you as you pull your jacket on, sling your backpack over your shoulders, and all but run out the front doors.
December air crashes into your lungs as you slip into the night. You savor the fresh way it fills your lungs, replacing the stifling heat of the party. Taking the stairs in twos, you bound towards the street to hail a taxi. You don’t have a car and biking here in a dress didn’t seem like a great move, so a taxi was the best you could do.
A few people line the street, standing scattered along the sidewalk in front of the event. The valet kiosk is busy with a few people who seem to be fleeing the party early as well. Smiling to yourself, you can’t help but wonder what is driving each of these poor souls home so soon. What are all of these people running from?
Your eye is caught by a flash of yellow. Raising your hand and reaching out onto the street, you attempt to wave down the taxi. You watch as it slows down and pulls in right behind a car that’s just been pulled up into the valet area. The sleek sports car hums with power that you’ve only recently become acquainted with. Monaco’s collection of cars seems to be endlessly vast and magnificently sexy. In the low lighting, the black car nearly fades into the night. Only the gleaming highlights of the reflective carbon fiber exterior and the glow of the headlights and taillights give away its shape. Your eyes are glued to it, wondering if the rattle in your chest is from the rumbling engine or just your stuttering heart. It’s no surprise when you didn’t notice him stride up next to you.
“Wicked, huh?” Lando says, standing just off to your right. For a few moments in your mesmerized state, you don’t recognize him. His eyes are on you, but you still haven’t peeled your eyes away from the car.
“Yeah,” You agree absentmindedly as you drag your eyes over the vehicle. Everything has faded into a blur, even your waiting taxi a thought of the past.
“Wanna ride?” Lando offers, the words tumbling out of his mouth. With that, your mind snaps back into focus. A frown falls over your face as you turn to the man standing next to you. There’s a warning poised on your lips, ready to tell off some stupid man that just because he has a fancy car, it doesn’t mean that he can just get whatever or whoever he wants. The second your eyes lock with Lando’s, the venom you were ready to spit is gone and lost. His eyes are wide and his bottom lip is pulled into his mouth as he looks at you. Your jaw goes slightly slack and for the first time in a long time, you’re speechless. You really aren’t on your game tonight. Chiding yourself, you shake off your inhibitions and try to fall back into your normal self.
“I mean,” Lando says while shifting from foot to foot and clearing his throat. “Would you like a ride home?”
Pink has started to creep up his neck and into his cheeks. A pinched and slightly embarrassed expression covers his face. It surprises you slightly. You thought that he was all bravado and classic arrogance. This display of sheepishness has caught you by surprise. Once more, you recognize just how young he is–how young both of you are. Teenage blushing and awkwardness haven’t completely left you yet. Something about it warms you in a way that you desperately need.
Glancing over at your taxi, you weigh your options. But there really isn’t a choice here, is there? Not taking Lando’s offer would be a slap in your own face and a shame to all of your core truths. There’s something deeper at play as well. It feels as though you’re looking into the eyes of fate, your destiny being drawn out before you. Plus, it kinda helps that he’s cute.
“Take me away,” You say, a genuine smile coming to your face. He blinks at you once before returning your smile in full force.
“Come on then,” He says while beckoning you to follow him. In a few brief steps, he stops in front of the passenger door and pulls it open. The butterfly doors lift up, exposing the luxurious interior. You think you might combust.
“I’m Lando, by the way.” He says, one hand holding the door and the other extending toward you. There’s a slightly smug look on his face. Narrowing your eyes at him, you slide your hand into his. It’s the first time you’ve ever touched. His skin feels warm against yours, his fingertips branding prints into the back of your hand. Sparks fly out from where you’re joined together, goosebumps cascading over your skin. Never have you had a physical connection make you feel this way, let alone a handshake. Something flickers to life deep inside of you. Lando’s touch has just awoken something that you didn’t know was there, but now cannot deny the existence of.
With your hand still in his, you tell him your name. To your delight, he repeats it back to you. The way it rolls off his tongue, painted in his accent, makes you want to drop to your knees. Sweet like honey is the way it feels to be in his presence.
“Pleasure,” He says. It doesn’t sound like a casual remark, though. It sounds more like a promise. The thought makes your stomach do a flip.
“Likewise,” You say, your voice coming out soft as velvet. The way his eyes are watching you makes you feel alive. Every nerve ending in your body is standing at attention, ready for whatever comes next. You might call yourself a bit of an adrenaline junkie, and this adventure with Lando has you buzzing.
“Hop in, love.” Lando says before finally dropping your hand. Butterflies flap in your stomach at the casual endearment. Sending him a small, crooked smile, you slide into the seat in front of you. After closing the door with careful hands, he rounds the car and joins you inside behind the wheel. The hum of the engine fills your ears as you allow yourself to analyze the interior. Black surrounds you, lit up by red LED lights placed around the console and dash. You tuck your bag by your feet before strapping yourself in with the seat belt.
“Where to?” Lando asks, his hand reaching out. For a split second, your heart starts to race, thinking he’s reaching out to take your hand. It would be a bold move, but not one you’d be opposed to. But he stops short, his long fingers resting over the gear stick. Flicking your eyes from his hand to his face, you tell him your address. He nods and then pushes the car into gear, leading the two of you off into the night.
Now, you should probably have thought twice about sharing your address with a total stranger, but the truth is, you don’t know how long you’ll actually be living here. In your mind, everything is temporary. Permanence has never been a rule in your game. So, sharing your home address with someone you just met and somewhat have started to trust doesn’t seem like such a bad idea. Plus, you don’t think Lando has the stomach to be a serial killer, so he has that going for him.
“How long have you been in Monaco?” Lando asks, his eyes not leaving the road. Taking the opportunity to stare at his side profile, you contemplate how to answer.
“A few months. I started a job here with the company that hosted the event tonight.” You say, shrugging and turning your head to watch the buildings fly by. Lights dance across your eyes, streaks of it blurring into the cityscape around you. You’ve never been in a car like this before. It’s mesmerizing, the way the sound and feel of it mixes with the visual, causing a sensory explosion. Powerful is the only way you can describe it. You wonder how it feels to harness such power. The man next to you does it so frequently, it’s no wonder he is the way he is. This understanding makes you feel warm, like without asking or him telling you, you’ve started to see him. It’s a brand new experience for you to feel this way in a personal matter.
“What exactly do you do there?” He asks, pulling you from your thoughts. You can feel his eyes on you now. The thought of him stealing glances at you while his eyes should be locked on the road makes little fireworks go off in your chest.
“I’m supposed to be a journalist.” You sigh, falling back into the deep cushion of your seat. “But right now, I’m just working my way up.”
Lando hums in acknowledgement of your struggle. Something tells you that he knows exactly what you mean. It feels so odd to be so comfortable with him, to know that you're being understood too. It scares you a little. Getting close is dangerous, you might end up getting burned.
“Wait!” You say as your eyes catch on a familiar sight. “Pull over here.”
The 24 hour grocery shop near your apartment has become your closest friend. On late nights, you sneak over and peruse the ice cream section. Tonight seems like the perfect occasion to stop by and grab a sweet treat. There’s nothing quite like an impromptu casual ice cream date.
Casual, right?
Casual.
Lando laughs to himself a little, but does what you ask, pulling into a parking space in front of the shop. You send him the sweetest smile you can muster up. He looks up and down your face, his lips slightly parted. The image of kissing those lips flashes across your mind but is gone in an instant. You can’t do that. You barely know him and would hate to give the wrong impression. Of course you’re attracted to him, but nothing can come of this. All this can be is a little bit of fun.
“Come on,” You urge, your hand falling on the door handle. You both exit the car and hurry inside the shop. Mindlessly, you grab Lando’s hand to lead him over to the aisle you’re desperately needing. But, in your hurry, you don’t miss the way he swallows hard when your fingers wrap around his. Having your hand again feels completely natural, as if the two of you had known each other for years.
Instead of dwelling on the deeper meanings of things or contemplating the intense energy between the two of you, you scour the ice cream shelves.
“Ice cream tells you a lot about someone.” You whisper to the man next to you, exaggerating your reverence to the frozen food section. Eyes flickering up to his, you’re pleased to find him looking at you. There’s a smirk pulling at a corner of his mouth.
“Really?” He coos sarcastically.
“Yeah, so just know I am judging you on what you choose.” You fire back. He smiles now, the apple of his cheeks and the slightest of dimples popping out. Shaking his head at you, he carefully approaches the freezer. He doesn’t drop your hand, however. Your interlocked fingers hang between the two of you while he contemplates his decision. Casting one last glance at you, he yanks the door open and snatched his choice.
Without being asked, he presents you with his selection. It’s peanut butter pecan. Bringing your free hand to your mouth, you try to stifle your laugh. He furrows his brow, looking terribly offended.
“This is objectively a great flavor.” He defends weakly.
“If you’re geriatric, then definitely.” You shoot back, your voice weak with suppressed laughter. He shakes his head at you, tucking his tongue into his cheek.
“Go on then.” He says while gesturing wildly with his ice cream in hand. Smiling widely, you take all but two seconds to pluck your favorite from the shelf. With no little amount of flair, you show him your far superior pick.
“Cookie dough? So basic.” He says incredulously, looking completely underwhelmed.
“I think you mean ‘classic.’” You correct, tilting your head to the side. Even when he’s perturbed, you can’t help but admire him. Somewhere along the way, he lost his tie and undid the top button of his dress shirt. His hair is messy now, unlike when you first saw him. He must have been running his hands through it. You wonder what it feels like to run your hands through his hair.
“I think not.” He scoffs, mimicking your head tilt. Rolling your eyes, you drop his hand to shove his shoulder playfully. You breeze past him towards the checkout. But before you turn the corner around the aisle you glance back at him.
“Come on, mister. We have to get you back to the retirement center before anyone notices.” You tease before finally slipping away. Laughing to yourself, you make your way to the only open checkout counter. The older gentlemen standing behind the counter watches you approach with kind eyes.
“Bonsoir, Anton,” You greet him with a smile before handing him your pint of ice cream. Anton works the night shift frequently, meaning you and him have become very well acquainted.
“Bonsoir, mon cher.” He says back in a soft voice. He scans your ice cream into the system just as Lando comes up right behind you. His chest presses into your shoulder as he leans forward to hand his ice cream to Anton. It occurs to you like a tidal wave that you never want him to move. Having him pressed against you feels like heaven on earth. It’s so right, so warm…
And then it’s gone. He backs up off of you and slides around to pay. Anton hands him the ice creams along with a couple of plastic spoons. Swallowing hard, you glance from Lando to Anton. From the corner of his eye, Anton watches you. You pop an eyebrow at him. He gives you a look that says not bad. Shaking your head at your friend, you can’t help but smile. Anton is right. Not bad, not bad at all.
“Au revoir,” You say with a wink.
“Se comporter,” Anton whispers. “Au revoir.”
Behave. Smiling wildly, you catch up with Lando who’s waiting at the end of the counter. He hands you your ice cream and spoon, which you take gratefully.
Exiting the shop together, you stand basking in the glow of the shop’s lights that stream through the windows. You peel the lid from your ice cream and open up the package to the plastic spoon before shoving a bite into your mouth. When the cold snack hits your tongue, it sends a chill through you along with a fabulous wave of flavor. Ice cream at night in December might not have been your most practical idea, but damn was it delicious.
“So, Lando,” You say once you’ve swallowed, bumping your shoulder against his. “What is it that you do?”
He’s in the middle of spooning a bite into his mouth when his eyes widen and his eyebrows shoot up. The spoon hangs in his mouth for a second while he tries to formulate his answer. You can see the ‘you don’t know who I am’ look on his face and hope desperately that he doesn’t voice those thoughts aloud. Of course you do know who he is, but you still want to hear him tell you.
“I’m a driver.” He says vaguely, his eyes falling back to his ice cream. Pressing your lips into a line to refrain from smiling, you loop your arm into his. You begin walking down the street, lugging him after you. He doesn’t complain, but simply follows your actions, striding alongside you.
“What does a driver do?” You pry, wanting to get a real answer out of him.
“Drives,” He smirks. Rolling your eyes, you have to admit you walked into that one.
“If you continue to be so vague with your answers, I’ll have to assume you’re a getaway driver. Are we talking full ‘Baby Driver’ here? Or more ‘Fast and the Furious?’ Just so you know, I’m not really a fan of career criminals–” You ramble and badger him verbally to get him to open up a little. Sometimes all you need to do to get answers is just annoy someone.
“I’m not a criminal!” He interjects, a little dumbfounded at your verbose display.
“Would a free criminal admit to being a criminal?” You ponder aloud before shoving another bite into your mouth. His eyes are on you. You pin him with a quizzical look to further your point. He shakes his head and pops another bite of ice cream into his mouth while you continue to stroll down the street together.
“You’re–” He starts, but you’re quick to cut him off.
“Still waiting for an answer. Yes I am.” You say, finally looking up at him with serious eyes.
He gazes down at you softly, his lips drawn to the side as he bites the inside corner of his mouth. You can tell he’s slightly giddy about what he’s going to say to you. He’s gauging your reaction carefully. You flash him a small smile and wide eyes.
“I’m a Formula One driver for McLaren.” He says casually then waits for your response. Honestly, you’re sort of surprised that he didn’t lead with this the entire night. His cockiness is clear, but that’s sort of to be expected when you are one of only 20 people that do what you do. It’s not an excuse or a free pass for arrogance, but it makes sense. You’ve entered the part of the night where you’re going to expose his true colors.
“Oh, that’s cool.” You say equally as casually, downplaying the massive deal that he is. It’s not like you aren’t impressed with him, because you are. But there’s a game to play here and rules to follow. He blinks rapidly as his plan starts to fall to pieces in front of him. It’s borderline hilarious to watch his bravado splinter. He flounders slightly, scrambling to pick up the pieces of his failed move.
“That usually works, right? Telling girls that you’re this international racing star?” You say, putting his failure in the limelight. Red flushes into his cheeks, only slightly noticeable as you pass under the warm glow of a streetlight. He catches on then, his nervousness and embarrassment fading slightly.
“Yeah,” He says, shame being conveyed in his monosyllabic answer. Slyly, you glance up at him, a smirk playing across your lips. It’s fun to make people squirm a little. It makes them realer, more human. A guy like this who spends his time in the public eye deserves to be unleashed into pure, unadulterated humanity every once in a while. Your incessant teasing allows him that freedom.
“Did you know?” He asks after a quick pause, his face pinched into a frown. Instead of answering, you look away and take another bite of ice cream. Scoffing, he stops walking. Slipping your arm out of his, you swing around to stand in front of him. He’s glowering at you. It makes you laugh.
“I knew,” You admit while popping the lid back onto your ice cream. “My friend’s son is obsessed with you.”
He looks at you with wide eyes. You opt out of telling him that you’ve seen all of his races and post-race interviews from this past season. Maybe that’s why you feel like you know him so well. No other reason makes sense.
“Why did you harass me into telling you?” He asks while plucking your plastic spoon from your hand to dispose of in a nearby trash can.
“I don’t think I harassed you into anything. But, habit, I suppose.” You say while shrugging. It’s the best answer you can give him. You really did want to see the way he acted and get the real answers that you were searching for. There’s a lot to learn about someone in the way they talk about themselves. When he comes to stand in front of you, he has a crooked smile on his face. Relief washes over you when you see that he’s not actually upset.
“Journalists,” He huffs dramatically before flashing you a show-stopping grin. You bite your bottom lip as you gaze into his eyes. They’re bright and glittering in the night, a beacon of light in the darkness. You blink up at the man in front of you, feeling slightly dazed. He’s stepping closer, invading your space. It makes you go completely still. For all of his thinly veiled arrogance and annoying charm, you can’t help but feel drawn in by him. There’s a man inside of those defenses that you’re desperate to see.
But he isn’t a story to be hunted down and peeled apart, he’s a person.
It occurs to you then that this is highly dangerous. The feelings that have been stirring in you all night because of the man standing in front of you are the type that you always avoid. Growing connections and reaching out to people puts them at risk. There’s never a moment where you’re not thinking about leaving or what’s coming next. You can’t allow yourself to put people in the line of fire. It’s not that you don’t care about people; it’s about not allowing people to care for you. Once you run out of their lives, never to return, you’re the one responsible for their broken hearts if it goes too deep.
This situation with Lando is a prime example of the thing you’ve always feared. You can tell that Lando is starting to care. He cares about how you see him; he cares about the way your hand fits in his; he cares about the way you smile at him. It crushes you. In a world where this should make you over the moon, you feel six feet under. Tonight is a one night thing. It has to be. It’s the only way to keep you both safe.
So, you do what you do best. You run.
“It’s getting pretty late,” You say, taking a step back for safety. It physically pains you to say the words out loud, knowing they’re a prerequisite to an unavoidable goodbye. You have to remind yourself that a little bit of pain now is worth it to spare everyone from a heartbreak.
Lando is taken aback by your sudden shift in mood. It’s understandable. Just seconds ago, he was moving in after spending a lovely time with you. Now he’s being rejected. When a small flash of hurt paints his features, you want to wrap him up in your arms and explain to him why you’re doing this. But you know that he’ll just question and fight you. So you don’t explain yourself, you just let him work through his emotions alone.
Alone.
Alone.
Alone.
The word echoes through your mind as Lando just nods. Without another word, you both turn back the way you came to return to his car. Suddenly, the chill of the winter night that you had avoided with banter and affection, seeps in. It reaches its icy hands around your heart and squeezes. Even though you’re standing right next to Lando, you feel utterly alone. It hurts for now, but you know you’ll find comfort in the familiar feeling once again. You always do.
Lando drives you the rest of the way home. There are few words that pass between you and not one smile. You have to fight yourself not to crack a joke or tell him that you don’t really want to go home. You wish that you could stay out with him all night, talking and laughing and smiling. But you can’t. Some dreams are meant to stay dreams, wishes meant to stay wishes.
When he pulls up to your building, he tosses the car into park. It surprises you a little when he turns to you fully. His eyes are narrowed and searching. You know exactly what’s coming.
“So this is it?” He asks firmly, demanding an answer. Everything inside of you rebels against the end. You struggle to confirm the worst, the words choking you. It’s been a long time since a goodbye was this hard. You’d let it get too far this time and there’s no one to blame but yourself.
“This is it.” You say, nodding your head and dropping his gaze. Nervously, your fingers fidget with the lip of your ice cream lid. There’s a few moments of silence that solidify your point. It’s not a choice; it’s a necessity. He’ll understand that in time and so will you.
Not being able to take another second of sitting in his presence for fear you might go back on your own decision, you grab your bag and push the door open. As you stand and sling your bag over your shoulders, you watch as he watches you.
“Goodbye, Lando Norris.” You find yourself saying. Goodbyes are your specialty, so why does this one feel so unnatural? You can’t help but feel like you’re a fate from the ancient Greek myths, cutting off your own thread of destiny.
“Goodbye,” He says, the shears of fate coming to a close along the tie that connected the two of you.
You shut the door and turn your back on the car. Every single step away feels like a hike up a mountain. A personal sort of gravity tries to yank you back towards him. It would be so easy to fall into his arms, into a kiss that you’ve been dreaming about since you first laid eyes on him.
Instead of giving into ease, you cast one last look over your shoulder before hiking the rest of the way to your apartment.
The eternal feeling of never again settles into your bones.
—
Sitting at your desk, you lean your cheek against your fist. It’s Monday and you’re, unfortunately, sitting in your office at work. Today’s agenda consists of going through the thousands of photos you took at the charity gala. The part you aren’t so in love with about being a photographer is having to go through the tedious work of selecting the best few photos out of a massive sum. It’s monotonous and tiresome after a few hours and you still have a few hundred more to just look through before you even start editing.
Sighing loudly, you toss yourself back in your chair. You’ve been sitting here for too long and you’re starting to get antsy. You need a change of pace.
With your laptop in hand, you waltz into the break room to grab a snack before walking yourself to the stairs. Swift steps carry you all the way up to the roof. Some fresh air sounds like exactly what you need. You wedge the door stop between the frame and the door before carefully propping it open just a crack. Getting locked out would be highly embarrassing.
It’s an unusually nice day for late December, the sun poking out through the clouds and the wind nothing but a small breeze. You beeline for the spot on the edge of the roof that connects to the stairway building. It blocks the wind and gives you a great view of the city.
You sit on the edge of the roof, leaning back against the brick wall that encloses the stairway. Your legs dangle freely over the side of the building while your eyes slip over the Monaco skyline. It’s late in the day and the streets are starting to fill with post-work day traffic. Closing your eyes, you listen to the loud hum of city life.
After a few moments of indulging yourself, you crack open your eyes to begin working again. Firing up your laptop, you resume searching through your photos. But, something in the top corner of your screen makes you stop your scrolling. It’s a little blue folder that you’d made earlier today. On a whim, you collected all the photos that you took of Lando and put them into a folder. A few were actually really great shots that might end up being used in the gala piece. Others that you took weren’t anything special to an outsider.
But, to you, they meant more.
Your heart still carries the dull ache of your night spent together. His smile and laugh still float across your memory. Frequently, you think of him, of his touch. Every part of it was so slight, but it felt perfect. Small moments coalesce into a memory that won’t be soon forgotten. It’s not let you stop thinking about him, constantly opening up the “LN” folder you now have saved on your laptop just to relive it. You find yourself again daring to wonder if this would be the first and last time you would see him. It’s completely out of character for you. Everything about him and this situation is unnerving.
Part of you is unable to let go of him as you have done with everything else in your life. Staring at the photos of Lando, your mind starts to formulate a plan. Jokingly, he asked you to send him that photo that you took from behind him. There are several photos, but your personal favorite is when he started to turn towards you. His profile was captured, exhibiting his nose and lips perfectly. His neck is strained, causing his muscles to pop. And his hands, his gorgeous hands are tucked so neatly behind his back and clutching that champagne glass so perfectly that you can’t not admire them.
Tossing your other work to the back burner for a minute, you open up your editing application and go to work fixing up a couple of things on the photo. When you’re finished, it’s a glorious black and white picture that makes him glow like a sunspot. Appreciating your own handiwork, you save the photo under a new name into the same folder.
Without a second thought, you pull out your phone and scroll through your contacts before finding the right one. Your call to the PR department is answered within seconds. One of the girls you know who works answers and introduces herself. You greet her warmly before getting down to business.
“I need the address of one of our PR recipients.” You say into the receiver.
“Sure,” She says happily, the small noise of a clicking keyboard can be faintly heard in the background. “What’s this for?”
“I had a request for a print to be mailed to him.” You tell her a half truth, not wanting to get in trouble with anyone. “I told him that I’d take care of it myself. You know how these guys can be.”
You hear her mumble in agreement. People who personally request specific prints from us can be quite picky about how things are handled. You know this little bluff will help you streamline the process of getting Lando’s address.
“What’s the name?” She says.
“Lando Norris,” You hum to her sweetly, not wanting to jeopardize your mission. The other end falls silent while she goes about looking him up. Your breathing is uneven and slightly nervous. It’s not your first time toeing the line, but bending the rules never fails to get your blood pumping. You love it.
“Found him! Emailing his info to you now.” She says in her sing-song voice. You fist bump the air in success.
“Thank you!” You say before ending the call. The email pops up on your laptop screen immediately. Wasting no time, you open up the application and favorite the email so it won’t get lost. Then you start to compose an email of your own. Scribbling down a few things and uploading the photo, you send it off into cyberspace.
Once more, you scroll your contacts until you find the name of a friend who works in printing. You ring him while chewing on your nails.
“Hello?” He answers, the whir of machines is loud enough to make you strain to hear him properly.
“Michael! Could you do me a favor? I have a guy I need to get a print to ASAP.” You chirp into your phone.
“What do you need?” He sighs, sounding far away and distracted.
Smiling to yourself, you give him the specs. You wanted a large canvas, matte print. Nothing too crazy, definitely doable on a tight schedule. He confirms what you need by repeating it back to you and then lets you know that he got your email.
“Pick it up tomorrow.” He says shortly before hanging the phone up. You make a mental note to pick up an extra coffee for Michael tomorrow as a thank you.
Happily, you go about finishing your work for the day. You can hardly wait to return to work tomorrow to get your gift sent off to Lando. He’s an international address, so the sooner the better.
You’re a little unsure if this is a good idea. Reaching out to him this way is dangerous. It opens doors that you’ve already shut tight. There’s no closure to be had because everything is already done. There’s no point in exploring this any further because there’s no future here. The only future you have interest in is where you’re going next.
But, there’s still this pull to make contact again, even in just a small way. It doesn’t mean anything. At least you have to keep telling yourself that until you believe it.
When you finally feel like you’ve hit a good place to pause for the night, the sun has already set and the cool winter night has wrapped up the city in front of you. Sighing, you take a minute to enjoy the brisk chill of the season. Part of you wishes for snow, but the more rational part of you is glad for clear roads.
The trip down the stairs and to your desk is quiet. The office has been all but deserted, leaving only you and a couple night-owls waiting to call it a night. You make your way to your cubicle, ready to get out of this place for today. Slipping your laptop into your bag, you check over your desk to make sure you have everything. Right before you leave, you scribble on a sticky note to remind yourself to pick up Lando’s print in the morning. It seems useless though because you don’t think that you would ever forget. Once you have it pasted on the corner of your monitor, you turn tail and leave the office in the dust.
Bursting out into the cool Monaco night, you can’t help but feel a little more alive when you escape the office. A deep breath fills your lungs as you make your way over to your bike. It’s the last one in the stand. You unlock it swiftly, mount it, and head off towards your apartment.
The streets of your city are starting to fill once more. Nightlife in Monaco is stretching its arms and blinking its tired eyes. From afar, you watch the expensive cars and people line the streets. There’s no better place to people watch. As you fly by on your bike, you catch only the sped up version. It reminds you of your night with Lando. At this point, everything reminds you of the short time you spent together. Your heart aches to return to that night, to feel the warmth you’ve been missing since you left him in his car in front of your apartment.
It pains you to stop at the grocery store that you and Lando visited, but you need something to eat. This has become somewhat of a nightly ritual, grabbing food on your way home from work. It’s like a tiny adventure to end your day. But since this place is now tainted with the memory of Lando, it feels less joyful and a lot more melancholy.
Grabbing some supplies for a sandwich and your favorite drink, you decide that’s sufficient for tonight’s meal. Just as you’re about to pay the cashier, which you’re infinitely glad isn’t Anton, something across the shop catches your eye. It’s a small kiosk of brightly colored cards. They’re postcards. They must have just put them out because you haven’t seen them yet. A small smile breaks across your face as you ask the cashier to give you another minute.
Postcards have always been a little obsession of yours. When you bounced around from place to place as a kid, you would always grab a postcard from wherever you ended up. There’s something comforting about carrying a little piece of everywhere you’ve been with you. You left lingering pieces of yourself in those places, so it seems only right for you to return the favor. The symbolism is painfully applicable to you and Lando. There’s a piece of you that will always live for him.
Carefully, you select two postcards before rushing back to pay for all of your things.
With revitalized fervor, you bike the rest of the way home. You tie up your bike and bound into your apartment building. Once you enter your apartment, you carelessly sling your backpack onto a chair while plopping the grocery bag onto the counter. You snag a pen from the side pocket of your bag and fish out the postcard you specifically chose for Lando from the grocery sack.
With a small smile on your face in spite of yourself, you write him a brief note on the back of the card. As your pen glides across the surface, your plan lurches into action.
Little do you know just how far this game will go.
—
Lando leans against the door of his apartment with his eyes closed. He’s finally returned to Woking after a much needed holiday to some remote island in the middle of nowhere. As much as he loves to vacation (and trust that he really loves vacation, all the girls and parties and days laid out on the beach), he’s glad to be home. He was distracted the entire time he was away, and not in the way he intended. His thoughts were focused on something that was gone and lost: you. No matter what he tried, he just couldn’t shake the memory of you. There was something there, something worth pursuing. But you had said goodbye in a way that made it clear he would never see you again.
His head throbs as a tension headache spreads through his temples.
Plopping his bag down in the foyer, he promises himself to take care of it later. Right now, he just needs to find his lovely bed. His eyes search around his apartment in awe, wondering if it has ever felt this good to be home again. Maybe he can find real solace here.
He stops looking around when his eyes land on an oddly shaped package. The logo on it is familiar. Remembering suddenly that it’s the publication that hosted the gala a few weeks ago, he grows hopeful. Maybe it’s from you.
Memories from that night flash into his mind for the thousandth time. The first time he saw you, drawing your camera down from your face after sneaking pictures of him, he knew that he’d never seen a more beautiful woman. He was even more impressed by the fact that you weren’t mortified that he’d caught and teased you about photographing him. Instead, you teased him right back. It made his heart race. You made his heart race. Every part of you was perfect to him–the way you laughed and smiled, the way you looked in that dress that hugged your body just right. He loved the way you spoke. You were unafraid in a way that he’d never seen. Attractive doesn’t even begin to describe you. You were all encompassing, a force of nature that he was in awe of. Meeting you was one of the best and worst moments of his life.
Embarrassment crashes down over him. After spending time together, you had said goodbye in a way that was so final. There would be no reason for you to reach out to him by sending a package. His hope extinguishes.
Striding over to the package anyway, he scoops it up to bring it into the kitchen. He cuts through the packing tape carefully before prying the cardboard open. When it falls away, he’s met with something large and wrapped in protective paper. There’s a card taped to the wrapping, his name etched onto the front. With gentle fingers, he peels it off and tears open the envelope. The postcard that he pulls out is a photo of large white ships on stunning blue water with “Monaco” written in orange. The orange is a near perfect match to the papaya of McLaren. Flipping the postcard over, he takes in the minimal writing scribed onto the card.
Heard you’re a big fan of an ass pic. Hope you enjoy.
Your name is written next to the short message with a couple of decorative little hearts. Lando’s face lights up as he reads over the words again and again. You sent him this. His thumb traces over your name before he whispers it aloud to only himself. Desperately, he wishes to see you again. There’s a deep ache in his chest that hasn’t left since you said goodbye.
Setting the card down with care, he then begins to unwrap the gift. When he sees a stellar black and white photo of himself at the gala, he can’t help but grin. He’s turned away from the camera, his slender back on display. It must be one of the photos you took when you were joking with him about his ‘good side.’ The memory makes a flame flare up in his chest. He really hopes that you were checking him out when you snapped this particular shot. This is better than he could have ever hoped for. For a minute, he just admires the photo of himself. He looked good. You were one hell of a photographer. He didn’t realize something so simple could be so cool or done so well.
Setting the canvas down, he looks back and forth between the postcard and the photo. You’d set aside time to do this for him. The hope that he’d been trying to kill since he saw you glance over your shoulder at him before disappearing into your apartment building flares to life with fortified strength.
He’d been too afraid that night to make his feelings known and he’s been kicking himself for it ever since. A million and one ways of running after you have crossed his mind since that night. For all of his thinking and wishing, he hasn’t done anything about it. But you have. Maybe the goodbyes that passed between you weren’t as final as they once seemed. In this new light, he sees your shared farewells deteriorating. Doors once closed are starting to crack open. He’s determined to make the most of it.
He’s determined to get you.
[postcard #1]
#f1 x reader#formula 1#formula one#f1#formula 1 x reader#formula one x reader#lando norris x reader#lando x you#lando x reader#lando imagine#lando norris#lando norris fanfic#lando norizz#ln4#ln4 x reader#ln4 imagine#ln4 fic#ln4 fluff#ln4 angst#ln4 smut#lando norris smut#lando norris x you#lando norris x y/n#lando norris fluff#lando norris angst#lando norris fic#lando norris imagine#lando x y/n#formula one fanfiction#lando norris fanfiction
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- FEARS TO FATHOM | XIV.
i can thrill you more than any ghoul would ever dare try
cw: kinktober prompt (roleplay), fem reader, early criminal minds, background hotch x reader x spencer (age gap, reader and spencer in their early-mid 20’s), knifeplay, degradation, murder fantasies, necrophilia fantasies, snuff films mention, blood play mentions, part of the roleplay is that hotch is your daddy (open to interpretation on the exact meaning), one mention of sadomasochism, knife (handle) fucking, dead dove do not eat, under negotiated kink but hints of you and spencer being secretly disturbed freaks, spencer referred to as ghostface for most of the fic, one face slap, fantasy fulfillment (bc spencer is a soft dom TO ME), off screen recording
please do not repost, translate, or feed this work to ai
kinktober 2024
“Spence, come on, I’m gonna fall asleep by the time you get ready.” You shout at the closed bathroom door, if only to stave off your own nerves and lingering excitement.
The beginning of October was a snooze fest, you, Spencer, and Aaron had so much work, back to back cases that ran longer than anyone thought. Elle couldn’t stop ranting to you, and you to her, about how fucking aggravating things have been. None of you could even afford to make lazy plans for Halloween, the office already minimally decorated with tiny plastic pumpkins and purple-green-orange streamers here and there.
Until the angels granted you mercy, Aaron bargained some time off for the rest of the team in exchange for him spending hours eye level deep in paperwork.
You and Spencer each gave him a brisk but heartfelt thank you kiss before you headed home, to the house owned by a man who wouldn’t be accompanying his partners tonight.
Spencer calls back to you in between awkward bangs of his knees against the wall, shuffling his work clothes off and getting into the costume. “Just a second, you’d think you’d appreciate the lenghts i’m willing to go for you.”
You definitely do when after some more bumbling about he comes out in the ghostface costume, his gangly body in the long black fabric, holding the mask in his hand. Because of course you can’t do a more normal boss and secretary type situation, no, you have to have your boyfriend dress up like a horror movie serial killer, one of your favorites, and act like he’s gonna do the same to you.
You also wanted to see Spencer let go a little bit, be darker in ways your toes curl thinking about, Aaron was the one that bought the costume anyway. You were too shy to do anything beyond mentioning off handedly that it would be hot, and Spencer wanted you to squirm.
“Aaron waited 45 minutes for the employees at Spirit Halloween to find one in the back because they were sold out. The least we do is put it to good use since we’ll be working on the actual day.”
Your cold feet turn freezing, “This is so stupid and weird, we can just lie when he comes back and say we used it-”
Now here you are, breath caught in your chest as you gaze up at the handsome looming figure, Spencer huffs out a laugh at your shyness and flicks the hood up. He puts the mask on and fastens it around his head, now nothing but his gait and his voice signify the man behind the mask being your boyfriend. You can almost see his amused small smile, the knife he swiped from the kitchen block taps a tune along your jawbone, humming a note on every point of contact.
Your eyes flutter shut, setting the scene and dimming the lights, a cold and black gloved hand shoves you back onto the bed, pushing you right into the deep end.
“Please, I- I’ll do anything, I don’t wanna die, sir.” Your voice actually cracks on the tail end of your sentence, putting your all in your amateur-porn-without-a-camera performance.
“Shh.” Ghostface whispers but it’s jagged with long held back arousal, “You’re not going to die yet if you give me something for my trouble. You let me waltz right in just because Daddy’s not home, and now I'm supposed to pass up a pretty little lying whore like you?”
You whimper, “I’m not a whore, I just- He doesn’t have to know, please, I’ll do whatever you want, I swear.”
“Oh so you admit you were lying to him? How do you think he’s gonna feel when he comes home to see his precious baby’s guts spilled all over the bed she wanted her secret boyfriend to fuck her in. You were so giggly when you told me it was his.” He cocks his head to the side, teeth no doubt gleaming white under the mask. “What’s wrong, sugarplum? Not so proud of being a slut anymore?”
“Spread your legs, I have the perfect game in mind. Your pussy can’t lie like your mouth can, and I have just the thing she wants.”
You tremble, letting tears gather in your eyes so you really look afraid for your life. You sink into the mattress, your upper inner thighs glisten with your juices, already wet and he hasn’t thrust his knife inside of you let alone his cock. Your head says you should just lie there and feel the overhead fan blow gently on your exposed pussy but your clit wants to scream at Ghostface to go in blade first.
“See, look.” He taunts, parting your folds with the chilly tip of his knife, “She’s co cute, glistening and puffy, she’d look so good being fucked on the hilt of my knife, don’t you think?”
It’s not quite what you want but you nod, letting your legs go lax so he can get a proper look at your juicy cunt. He hums in approval, the soft sound raises your hackles and causes the hairs on the back of your neck to stand up.
He slaps the tip of the blade against your clit, and it’s the miracle that you weren’t cut that has you pleading up at him with your eyes. To pretty please at least thrust the hilt in so you can feel like you’re getting stabbed on something, Ghostface tilts his head again, his long body bending to the side, considering giving you what you want.
But wasn’t the point of this whole charade to turn you into a whiny bitch who’d risk her life for a serial killer’s knife, lusting after it possibly more than his actual cock?
“Oh, fine. I guess we’d better be quick if we don’t want your daddy to drop in on us too soon, I'd hate to have to gut him too, baby.” There’s a false hint of concern, you can picture a slight pout under the mask, his fingers tighten around the handle.
You eagerly scramble back on the bed, and Ghostface follows after you. His knees sink into the mattress on either side of your hips, one gloved hand shooting out to steady himself by your head and the other keeping a firm grip on his knife. He makes sure you can always see it, not because you actually need a reminder of the threat your (and your daddy’s by association) life is in, but because it entices you into being good.
Not that he’d mind a brat, but he doesn’t have the time today to break you apart piece by piece. He waves the knife in front of you, dangling a carrot in front of his dumb bunny, and reaches down under his cloak to unbuckle his belt.
“Aw, you perked up as soon as I started fiddling with my belt buckle, huh buttercup? Don’t get too excited, that little heart might burst and we haven’t even been able to watch any scary movies together yet.” Ghostface teases, shuffling back so his pants can fall to the floor.
You weren’t touching yet, but you still whine. His eyes must be crinkling under the mask because he giggles and climbs back up your body to hover above your face. He boops the tip of your nose with his knife, the edge gently scrapes against your chubby cheek and your jawline as he drags it along the contours of your face. Mapping it out so he knows which cuts to make without making you too ugly, as long as your holes can tighten enough to hug something, he doesn’t mind.
“Are you scared? Aw, I hope so, it’s only gonna make you tighter, you might even bleed without me having to give you a single cut.” He laughs when you pout at that, dragging the tip of his blade under your shirt before cutting it off and doing the same to your bra, a lacey thing you may or may not have bought specifically for this occasion. Blood red and now in tatters on your daddy’s bedroom floor, hopefully you can pick it up later before he comes home if you’re still alive.
“Mmh, don’t hurt me, please, I’m doing what you want aren’t I? I’m being good for you, that’s all I want, just wanna be good for you so fuckin’ bad.” You plead, gasping as he cuts away your mini skirt too.
And you do, it’s why you want your boyfriend to let go and carve you up as if all you’re good for is to be a monument to how much you adore him. You love him like this, slipping into the role of a guiltless killer who just might snuff the life out of you no matter how stellar your pussy game is, and you’ll love him afterwards when he needs round 3 (because you want one round with him in your pussy and one in your ass) to be gentle and sweet, his hung skinny boy cock stealing the breath out of you even when his strokes are languid and honey fueled.
“I know you do, I wouldn’t be giving you a chance to live otherwise, you whore. You’re just a sweet girl who got tripped up as soon as it was looking like you were gonna get dick, right? Doesn’t matter what happens after, don’t sweat it, you’re gonna get everything you want.”
You mewl, and your eyes flutter shut as he pushes your clothes off of your body. His knife’s blade shocks you a little when he drags it along your skin, making a path towards your dripping pussy. Your clit throbs in anticipation, Ghostface’s cloak shifts as his shoulders slightly shake from laughter.
“Greedy girl, I'm gonna put it in okay? Feel free to cry and scream all you want, I'd prefer it actually.” Is all the warning you get before he positions the black knife handle in front of your pussy, and starts pushing it in.
You whine at the stretch, and he doesn’t give you any time to adjust beyond that, slamming it in until the blade is just outside your hole. He grunts in pain, wrapping his hand around the sharp edges, his gloves are too thick for his skin to be sliced through, but you notice his cock twitch under his cloak.
You gush around the hilt of the knife, feeling too dizzy to look down at where it disappears into your body. It doesn’t do anything but split you in two, there’s no special spot it hits and the smooth bumpy ridges are too slight to provide any stimulation. It’s the brutality of the act that turns you on, a masked man looming above you as he plunges his knife into you, stabbing you from the inside.
The blade makes itself known every so often, poking your folds, imitations of sharp pecks as Ghostface thrusts the hilt inside your sopping wet pussy. The mess on your daddy’s sheets takes on more fluid, growing into a small puddle, you’re so embarrassed and your heart is beating faster than a hummingbirds as you stare up into the eyes of his mask. Black sinkholes surrounded by bright white, elongated and macabre, you clench around the handle. This could be the last sight you ever see, a ghostly specter getting off on desecrating your body and settling you on fire with your own shame.
You drool at his long fingers, curled so tightly around the blade, he must be in tremendous pain. Your clit jumps, listening for muffled pained groans held behind clenched teeth. It’s not your own suffering that gets you going apparently, this deranged man’s desperation to make you cum from being hurt that he ends up getting off on hurting himself is all you care about. Your daddy would forgive you, you just couldn’t help sniffing after a big soon to be bloody cock, maybe if you’re left alone afterwards he can put you back together. Kiss your wounds and gently guide you through a soft orgasm, a pink frothy ring permanently tied around the base of his cock.
“Is this knife a good enough dildo for you?” Ghostface sneers, he can tell that you’ve started to drift off, getting so caught up in the moment you can’t even be present enough to ride it out. “This pussy’s so tight I can't fit anymore of it in, guess you’ve been a good whore, I’m sorry I can't cut up your insides, carve them up like my special little pumpkin. Round and sweet and so fucking easy to squash into gooey pulp.”
You whimper and rock your hips down, desperate for the blade to somehow slip inside and absolutely mess you up. You want to bleed out around his cock and stare up into the eyes of his mask as you shatter around him, sharing the experience of cumming together while the light leaves your eyes. You don’t even know what he’d do, if he’d pull out right away and leave a sea of blood and other bodily fluids surrounding your corpse, if he’d snap a pic or two before sauntering right out the front door, whistling an old timey love song as he runs through his options for what to watch when he gets home.
Or maybe he’d stay, jostle his softening cock inside of you, softly bouncing your cooling body until it becomes too stiff. If he’d tear up just a little behind the mask and brush the gaping long oval shaped mouth over the lips on your face, your first kiss, only in death. He’d die someday and pull you down to hell so he can tell you his name and do this all over again, kissing the sweat off your philtrum and huffing the sulfur and brimstone from your bush.
“That’s it, clench on my knife handle, I know that’s what you’re after, but you’re still drooling… don’t tell me you want my cock now? We were just getting started…”
“I- I want your cock, so bad please, I wanna cum on it, wanna make you feel so good you’ll come back to finish me off later.” You beg and play with your tits, rolling your nipples in between your fingers so you’ll be even wetter.
You want it to be amazing for him, to be enveloped in so much liquid he’d only have to close his eyes and imagine it was your blood. You hear a groan coming from above you and you smile, “It’ll be so good, you can keep pretending you’ve killed me so we can do this again and again and again and again. I can be your perfect murder victim, a toy that never breaks for good, your cumsock. Please, Mr. Ghostface, we can even make a movie together if you want.”
Amateur porn, snuff, erotic-sleazy-trashy slasher gore porn, cheap horror, you’d do it all.
“God, you really are such a freaking freak. I thought I told you I wouldn't make a decision until I've ruined every one of your holes for anybody else. I guess this can be your audition, you wanna be my little star so bad then you can prove that you can handle what that’s really gonna be like. Gonna rough you up and leave you scraped raw, bully this pussy with my dick and choke you out when it’s time for bed.”
Your clit throbs painfully, and you almost cum on the now uncomfortable chafing material of his knife’s handle when he abruptly yanks it out, leaving your hole hungry and empty. More wetness dribbles out, some of it falling right on the black hilt and into the grooves, staining it in a way, you hope he sniffs it and jerks off while he kills some less lucky girl later.
He drops the knife right by your hip, and you wince as it knicks you. Ghostface braces himself on either side of your head and reaches down to ruck up his cloak, clumsily unbuttoning his pants with one hand and freeing his rock hard cock. You don’t get to marvel at it, to live with the knowledge that you know what the infamous serial killer terrorizing your town’s penis looks like. He doesn’t allow you any prep time now either, you’re not empty for long before he’s impatiently thrusting his bare cock in your puffy pussy.
It makes the most sickening squelch when his balls swing to hit your ass, like an organ you forgot existed just burst.
He gets so excited that he smacks you clean across the face, panting like a rabid dog mounting his prey.
“Fuck, virgins have the best pussies. Does this hurt, my fat fucking dick breaking you down into nothing? You look like you’re gonna cry, baby, it’s okay. You’ll like it soon, or not, this isn’t about what you want anyway, right? This is what you wanted, opening the door for a stranger only to get destroyed by his raw cock in your daddy’s bed.”
You’re still reeling from the slap but you have enough sense to nod, sobbing as his thrusts become harsher, sending you up the bed and spreading the burn of his length forcing itself to fit all throughout your abused body.
The smell of sex is going to take forever to come out, seeping through the walls and into the foundations of the house, an invisible scarlet letter for his future starlet.
Spencer’s phone beeps hours later, once, then twice, then a few more times before it falls silent.
I let you play without me this one time, don’t forget that.
Make sure to bring her room temperature water. Cold water gives her headaches. Two painkillers, not four unless she asks, she gets dizzy otherwise.
Take a shower if you’re feeling up to it, she’ll get fussy if she’s sticky and you’ll get fussy if she’s fussy.
Send me the video, last one on this floor of the bulding by now. Gideon went home an hour ago. I want pictures of you in the costume too.
Love you both, I’ll do my best to be home sometime tomorrow. No cockwarming if she’s too fucked out, just slip a plug in. You know her favorites, don’t get smug if she picks the pink heart shaped one again.
#spencer reid#kinktober#kinktober 2024#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid smut#spencer x reader#spencer x you#spencer smut#criminal minds#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds x you#criminal minds smut#kinktober smut#kinktober x reader#tw knife#tw blood#tw necrophillia#fem reader#tw degradation#tw snuff#tw inc*st#dead dove do not eat#just in case for the hotch aspect of the fantasy#fem reader smut#⚰️.deaddove
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Jegulus Our Keeper (poly!jegulus x fem!reader who plays keeper for slytherin) ⛅️🫧 Sweet Drunk Lovie (poly!jegulus x fem!reader after a bachelorette party)🌈🫧 a delicate touch (poly!jegulus tries to woo shy!reader) ☀️ it takes (3) to tango (swapping ties outs your relationship with both boys) ☀️ showering woes (fem!reader thinks they need a bigger shower)🌈 mobility aids are sexy (fem!reader is getting used to her new cane, the boys help)☀️
Rosekiller their 'platonic' girlfriend (poly!rosekiller x fem!reader who realize it's love)🌈 -> that has to be new? (jegulily + wolfstar speculate poly!rosekiller)☀️ why'd you only call me when you're high? - Arctic Monkeys (poly!rosekiller's version)⚡️⛅️🫧 spoiled (poly!rosekiller loves to spoil their girl) 🌈 threats of shopping (fem!reader needs more clothes, apparently)☀️ Evan's little freak (reader has a mentyB, the boys try to navigate it) ⛅️🌈 sugar cookies (fem!reader falls asleep decorating holiday cookies)❄️ back to bed (rosekiller's gf is sick)🌈
poly!rosewaterkiller x fem!reader -> reg's a little spoon, don't tell the others❄️ poly!rosewaterkiller x fem!reader (who decides to do Christmas)🎄 aggressive cuddling (poly!rosewaterkiller x fem!reader)❄️
MoonWaterKiller We can keep him (poly!moonwaterkiller x chaotic fem!reader)☀️ vitamin D (poly!moonwaterkiller x sick!reader fluff)⛅️🫧 Matilda - Harry Styles (poly!moonwaterkiller's version) ⛅️🫧 apple of the marauder tree (poly!moonwaterkiller + marauding child)🌈 T'is the season (the boys help reader when she has a break down)🎄
poly!moonkiller x fem!reader -> stolen jumpers and Chanel No. 5☀️
DarkSun bloody afterparty (poly!darksun x fem!reader at a Gryffindor party)🌈 Sirius doesn't get it (poly!darksun x black cat!reader)☀️ The Hazards of Hiccoughs (poly!darksun)⛅️🫧 march with me (poly!darksun @ hhc with fem!reader) 🎃 the plight of the panties (the boys help nb!reader with period dysphoria) ⛅️ spiked woes & revenge (the boys comfort reader who was spiked) ⛅️ cuddles & cocoa (the boys convince reader to snuggle)❄️
DeathStar All's Fair in Love & Chaos - poly!DeathStar mini blurb series -> Happy birthday! It's a beautiful day to throw myself off the astronomy tower -> Please adhere to the previously agreed upon schedule -> supervised handoffs with an audience -> it's not your party, you can't cry if you want to
Moonchaser Sun Incarnate Jamie (poly!moonchaser x fem!reader reassuring James)⚡️ Go See Your Lover Boys (poly!moonchaser following a full moon) ⛅️🫧
Jily it's happening again (Jily pursue reader in a Potter fashion) 🌈 young love and potterisms (reader makes Lily blush, James loves them)☀️
Bartylus The most cunning Ravenclaw (poly!bartylus x fem!reader) 🌈🫧
Prongsfoot There's 3 of Them (poly!prongsfoot x fem!reader college au)🌈 one of us (prongsfoot meet their match in foxy!reader)🌈 mischief makes three (the battle of the jersey's)☀️
Lily Super Ice Cream (single mum!Lily Evans x fem!reader meet cute) ☀️ dentist!Lily (reader goes for a routine checkup) ☀️
🫧 = elle’s favourites
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AIN’T A LONELY CHRISTMAS SONG — j.m
pairing: dad!jj maybank x mom!reader warnings: sexual innuendos (sort of), jj being a tad mistletoe obsessed, your daughters get into a tiny disagreement, mentions of pregnancy, i think that's it author's note: so i was trying to stay away from using names, but it was getting repetitive saying your older daughter and your younger daughter over and over so i gave them names. hopefully you find them cute LOL. also, this isn't technically part of my holiday event, but i wanted to write this to sort of kick things off ♡︎ naughty or nice ! ౨ৎ
“C’mon, pretty girl. It’s getting hard holdin’ on like this. You sure it’s not too big?”
“We just need to finesse it a bit. Nudge it a little to the left ‘n then we can slide it in.”
Beads of sweat started to form on JJ's forehead. His muscles were starting to cramp and he had to hold his breath to make sure he didn’t physically combust. “Okay, baby. How ‘bout now? ‘M I good?”
“Yeah. Okay. You’re good.”
With a collective heave, JJ pushed while you pulled, but the oversized tree seemed determined to resist. Then, after numerous strategic twists and turns, you managed to get the tree inside of your shared home. Needles of pine littered across your wooden floors like confetti.
JJ chuckled as he looked at the slightly dishevelled tree. “Well, you said you wanted the entryway to look memorable, right?”
You sent a glare his way. “Not what I meant, J.”
Soon, you heard the pitter-patter of tiny feet against your stairs, followed by two adorably shocked gasps. Your older daughter Avery sprinted down the steps, her little sister Elle hot on her trail as they rushed over to the two of you.
“Woah! Big tree!”
“Big tree,” Elle echoed in agreement. JJ crouched down, scooping her into his brawny arms and lifting her so she could get a better look. She reached out, her small fingers brushing against one of the branches and she retreated with a curious and excited squeal.
“Yeah, I think Mama went a little overboard. You agree?”
Avery clung to your side, her arms circling your hips as her chubby cheek smushed against your thigh. Big blue eyes gleam as they stare up into yours. “I think it’s perfect.”
You broke out into a smile, smoothing out some of the frizz on the top of her head. “Me too. Daddy just doesn’t see our vision.”
JJ rolled his eyes at that.
—
Soon enough, Christmas music swirled through the air, and the sweet fragrance of your festive candle made your home smell like its own winter wonderland.
JJ used his manpower to retrieve all of your decorations from your basement, earning a sweet but fleeting kiss from you before you lugged it all over to the tree.
Boxes upon boxes of ornaments and other decor littered around the room, messily so as your girls dove in with eagerness. Their decorating skills were definitely…questionable, but neither of you could deny how adorable they looked as they overflowed the tree with everything they could find.
JJ instantly recognized that caliber of enthusiasm, knowing that his gorgeous girls had no doubt inherited it from their mom. The woman of his dreams had passed on everything he loved about her to their children, and it warmed his heart.
“Look at this, babe,” you said, peering at your husband over your shoulder.
JJ abandoned his place on the couch, crouching down beside you to get a look at what you were showing him. It was an ornament, a very worn one. Inside laid a picture of the two of you, huddling together with bright, toothy grins and Santa hats on your heads. You couldn’t have been more than twelve years old at the time. Your parents had invited JJ to stay over for Christmas, knowing full well that Luke wouldn’t try to give him much of a memorable day. They’d gone over the top, getting double the amount of presents and matching pyjama sets for the both of you. You’d crafted gingerbread houses (in which JJ had tried to make a competition out of it and lost severely), drank copious amounts of hot chocolate, and watched Christmas movies until you slumped together on the couch in deep slumber.
JJ smiled fondly. Those times were so precious to him, then and now. He’d just started to recognize that he was nursing a crush on you, and being with you at your favourite time of the year only made him fall for you more. Sure, he was just a kid in middle school. But that didn’t mean he was too young to realize how much adoration he held for you in his heart.
“You were so cute,” you gushed, turning your face to him so you could kiss his cheek. “Baby JJ.”
He arched a brow. “You sayin’ I’m not cute anymore?”
A laugh bubbled from your throat. “Of course not. But look at those cheeks. So squishy.” You pinched one of his cheeks, maybe a tad too hard, and he shoved your hand away, massaging the soreness away.
“Ouch, baby.”
You leaned in to plant another kiss on the apple of his cheek but were interrupted when a sudden and spirited fight broke out between your daughters. Both of your heads snapped toward them, your shared bubble of love now popped.
“I want the star!” Elle insisted, clutching onto the golden tree topper with all her little might.
“No fair! You did it last time!” Avery’s arms crossed over her chest and she stomped as her tantrum began to surface.
JJ, sensing the inevitable meltdown about to ensue, intervened with his signature, charming grin. The one that had convinced you to marry him and had managed to give you two beautiful children. “Alright, ‘lil ladies. There’s no need to fight. You can both do it together, yeah? Can you do that?”
JJ’s hands reached out, tickling each of their sides and watching their twin frowns dissolve into smiles. Giggles filled the air and warmth bloomed in your chest instantly.
“Okay, Daddy,” Elle spoke, giving in to her favourite person in the world. Her eyes drifted onto her sister. “‘M sorry, Avey.”
“That’s real nice of you, Ellie,” JJ praised, kissing her temple. Then his gaze moved onto her sister. “How ‘bout you, Aves?”
Your eldest nodded, now looking bashful. Avery, ever the sweetest (despite her occasional outbursts), caved in the moment her little sister’s nickname for her hit her ears. “I’m sorry too. We can be a team.”
Your smile grew larger, making your face sore.
You and JJ had been through it all together. From friends to lovers, and everything in between. He’d plucked his heart out of his chest and handed it to you on a silver platter without thinking twice about it. The power of his love was almost surreal. But the most magical thing you got to witness while being with him was watching him transform into an amazing father. Sure, he was a goofball who was constantly bouncing off the walls with all that energy pumping through his veins twenty-four-seven, but when it came to your little girls, he was a natural. Hell, your theory was proven to be right yet again when he handled that impending tantrum with just the flash of his smile.
“What are you lookin’ at, goof?”
JJ’s voice broke you out of your daze. He was standing now, each of your girls propped up on both of his hips as he carried them. Avery and Elle eyed you curiously while their hands both held the golden star.
You gave him a shrug, walking over to them. Your arms wrapped around all three of them as best as you could manage. “You’re all just so lovely.”
JJ burned to kiss you. He almost did. But when Elle whined about how her arm was getting tired from holding the tree topper up, he was returned to reality.
The kiss can wait, he thought.
“Alright, my little star commanders. Let’s do this thing.”
He carefully stepped up onto the stool sitting in front of the large tree, and with a team effort, Avery and Elle strategically placed the star at the very top. They clapped and cheered together, high-fiving in victory once JJ stepped down and back to let them admire their work.
“Nice work, babies. You killed it.”
—
You passed through the living room and into the kitchen, taking note of the mistletoe that your husband had sneakily hung in the doorway. You shook your head, smiling to yourself as you headed over to the cupboard to grab some mugs and the hot chocolate mix. As you waited for the milk to warm up, your eyes landed on the alternate entrance into the kitchen. More mistletoe dangled from the doorframe. You knew without a doubt that you’d find it in every entryway that adorned your home.
You made all four cups, completing them with dollops of whipped cream and chocolate shavings. You placed them on your wooden tray, but before you could pick it up and bring it to your family, strong arms wrapped around your frame. The owner’s chin dropped onto your shoulder after leaving a kiss there.
“Hi, Mama,” he rasped. You could hear the mischievous grin in his tone. “These look amazing.”
“I figured we deserved something sweet for all our hard work,” you responded. You turned around in his hold, your hands running up the lengths of his arms and coming to a stop on his shoulders. “Nice job with the mistletoe, by the way.”
He shrugged casually, but his smirk only grew wider. “Can’t be out here wasting any opportunities. Y’know I can’t live without your kisses.”
“Mhm.”
“Hey. ‘M serious. Gotta be prepared.” JJ pulled something from his pocket, and his arm raised over your heads. “See? Prepared.”
You laughed softly, leaning up to peck his lips. “You don’t need to carry that around. I’ll kiss you any time you want.”
“That a promise?”
“The biggest promise, Maybank. Those lips are mine.” You granted him another kiss, this one languid and loving. “Now let’s go check up on our troublemakers. It’s way too quiet in there.”
—
The four of you settled in on your couch, the fireplace glowing and providing a coziness to the room. You all found refuge under one of your thick, fluffy blankets, with both girls plopped in yours and JJ's laps. The soft, golden cast of the lights on your tree illuminated the room enchantingly.
Avery nestled against JJ, her head resting comfortably on his chest, while Elle found a cozy spot in your hold. The familiar tune of Where Are You, Christmas filled the room, Cindy Lou Who’s sweet voice carrying out the lullaby that seemed to put everyone at ease.
As the plot unfolded, the Grinch was giving a dramatic monologue at the annual Whobilation festival in Whoville. Even with all the chaos ensuing as the he burned the town tree and destroyed the celebration, Avery’s eyes drooped, and Elle’s rhythmic breathing told you that she was already fast asleep. You shifted her into a more comfortable position gently and looked over at JJ. His eyes were fixated on the sleeping girls, a soft smile playing on his rosy lips.
“I’ve dreamt of nights like this.” His voice carried in a whisper, careful not to wake the kids up.
“Yeah?”
He nodded, his expression clear with contentment. “Yeah. When I was younger, I’d just sit ‘n imagine what it’d be like to have a home, a family…all of this. Luke never gave me any of that.”
His arms tightened around Avery, who curled into his chest further in her sleep. “Never thought I’d have this, y’know? Never thought I’d get to call you my wife — I still can’t believe I get to call you that, by the way. Or have a real home, a real family. I love you guys more than I ever thought I could.”
“We love you. The girls are crazy about you, ‘n so am I. We’re so lucky to have you, baby.” You extended your arm toward him, placing your hand on his shoulder and giving him a comforting squeeze.
He shook his head. “Nah. I’m lucky. You made this real for me. I never thought I deserved any of this, but you never stopped trying to convince me that I could have it all. This is all ‘cause of you, pretty girl.”
“It was a team effort,” you assured him. “The house, the girls. Our life. This was both of us.”
“When you talk like that, it makes me wanna give you another baby.”
You bit your lip through an uneasy smile. “I don’t think it’s gonna take that much work…”
His blonde brows pulled together in confusion. “Huh?”
“I’m pregnant.”
JJ’s eyes widened once the words sank in, showcasing a mixture of surprise and overwhelming joy. His smile was so bright that it gave your decorated tree some tough competition.
“Really?” He whispered, breathless.
You nodded, your smile mirroring his. He’d always had that effect on you, always had such contagious enthusiasm. “Yeah. Looks like we’re getting our dream again.”
With a lack of better judgment, JJ let out a whoop of excitement that echoed throughout the room. He had temporarily forgotten about the peaceful slumber that had taken over your girls. “Fuck yeah!”
You giggled softly, placing a finger on your lips and shushing him. “Shh. You’re gonna wake them.”
He half-ignored your words, leaning in to kiss you deeply. “‘M sorry,” he mumbled against your lips. “‘M just excited.”
“It’s okay, babe. I’m happy you’re happy.”
Your head tilted, resting on his shoulder. You settled further into the couch, feeling the warmth of the joyful news you’d just shared. JJ swore to himself that he didn’t think he could get any luckier, but in a matter of mere moments, he learned that he was wrong. Your family was expanding, and there was more love to be shared. Love he didn’t even know he had in him. Each time you have a child, it grows more and more, yet it still shocks him every time it appears on his doorstep.
JJ’s head rested against yours after he kissed your hair. If this was how he’d live out the rest of his days — surrounded by the beautiful family you two had created together, he’d never want for anything else. His dream came true, now four times over.
TAGS: @taintedxkisses @findapenny @bmo-bri @princessbetsy123-blog @slytherhoes @rafetopia @poppet05 @lyndys @adoreyouusugar @f4ll-for-you @tell-me-when-ur-ready @bbycowboi @jjmaybankisbae @enhypens-hoe @loverofdrewstarkey @earth2starkey @angelofcigs @koalalafications @aerangi @cantstoptheimagines @maybanksbabe @sarah5462 @drudyslut @lvvrgrl @dancinglikeaballerina @somerandos-world @peachpitlover @sya-skies @emmalandry @urbestieboo @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @gillybear17 @abbybarnesstuff @lovelyxtom @camelliaflow3r @runningfrom2am @rcbuttercup @redhead1180 @luversgirl @thejuleshypothesis @scarlettocean @subconsciouscollapse @vivian-555 @violetmacher @drewstarkeyslut @hoeforstarkey24
#꒰ — naughty or nice ౨ৎ ꒱#꒰ — dad!jj ꒱#jj maybank#jj maybank x reader#jj maybank x you#jj maybank x y/n#dad!jj#dad!jj maybank#jj maybank imagine#jj maybank fluff#jj maybank fic#jj maybank one shot#jj obx#jj maybank obx#jj outer banks#jj maybank outer banks#obx#obx x reader#obx x you#obx imagine#obx fluff#obx fic#obx one shot#outer banks#outer banks x reader#outer banks x you#outer banks x y/n#outer banks imagine#outer banks fluff#outer banks fic
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United Front
Lily and James have the best intentions when showing up to Petunia's engagement party.
Written for Day 2 of Jily Week (hosted by @sunshinemarauder and @kay-elle-cee) , Prompt: Partners in Crime
AO3 link Here
“She’s going to be cruel.”
“Brilliant, I love women who are dastardly.”
“No, I mean she’s going to find the thing deep inside you that you hold most dear, taunt it to oblivion– then crush it.”
“Very poetic of you Evans.”
“James, I need you to be serious. I need us to be a united front.”
They walked down the main street of Cokeworth. On a normal day where she wasn’t dreading her near future, Lily would have relished the idea of taking James on a little tour of her town. The fall leaves were littering the walkways and little shops had placed out intricate decorations ushering in the fall weather.
Lily stopped abruptly and James followed suit. Paces ahead of them was a heavily flowered awning with large pink and yellow bows plastered all over it. Cresting the door to the building was a large sign that read in flowing script: Congratulations soon to be Mr. and Mrs. Dursley.
“Don’t weddings usually happen in a church for muggles?” James fingered one of the balloons, making it bop back and forth.
“It’s not a wedding. It's the engagement party—now let me see you.”
Lily gave him the once over. His button down was undone just enough to see where his clavicle connected to his chest and his slacks were well fitted on his bum.
“Damn—you’re too fit,” she breathed out. James beamed and gave her a soft kiss.
“Thanks–”
“No, I mean really, you're too fit. She’s going to be so cross.” James’ brow crinkled.
“Er, I’m not following.” Before Lily could explain, the door to the house burst open. Petunia was in a light yellow and peach party dress that looked like it was straight out of a 1950’s refrigerator ad.
“What? You just going to hold court there all day?” Petunia clasped the door tightly with one hand.
“Hello to you too Tuney.” Lily tried to remain composed. “Congratulations on your engagement! We brought you some flowers.”
Petunia took one look at the bouquet in Lily’s arms. “You really shouldn’t have.”
She took them and walked around the porch, setting them in the back corner where they were hardly visible.
“There,” Petunia said with a nod. “Now they won’t clash with the decoration.”
James side-eyed Lily whose friendly facade was crumbling fast. The smile on her face quivered with rage.
“Who is this, why is he here?” Petunia didn’t even look James in the eye, rather giving him a once over before turning a hot shade of pink that clashed with her dress.
“This is my boyfriend—you said I could bring him.”
“Where’s the other boy?” James head whipped over to Lily who looked just as confused as he felt.
“What other boy?” Lily spat back, flustered.
“You know the one who always looks sickly.”
“Oh, Remus? He’s not my boyfriend Tuney—you knew that. James is.”
James decided he had enough of being talked about without any interjection.
“Nice to meet you…and congradu—”
Petunia gave him another once over, but this time with a more discerning eye. Her pale ears turned red.
“I mean honestly, Lily. I can’t believe you would do this to me, you always need to be better—well come on.”
She turned her body to the side leaving an opening to enter the house. Lily grabbed hold of James’ arm and tugged him past and down a hall that was draped with various silk bows.
“Uhm—I know I’m not keen on the muggle ways of conversation but—what was that?”
Lily trudged forward still holding his forearm tightly in her hand.
“She thinks you're fit. I told you she’d be angry—don’t worry about it.”
They reached the sitting room where a backdoor was open and a cacophony of people wafted into the house. Lily stopped walking and turned to James. She put both hands on either side of him and he instinctively lowered his forehead to rest upon hers.
“We’re a team. A united front. We will survive this.” Lily chanted to herself with her eyes closed.
James gave her a little squeeze and pulled her into his chest.
“Don’t worry. We’ll have some drinks, talk about muggle stuff that I’ll pretend to understand, and then I can take you back to school, get you out of this gorgeous dress, and then we can shag all the stress of the evening away.”
Lily snorted and James made a soft smile. “You’re a git.”
“Love you too.” He gave her a kiss on the nose and they locked hands to enter the back garden.
Outside a large table had been adorned with enough frill to supply the entirety of England. A table of drinks had been set up and Vernon stood with a few men Lily didn’t know drinking beers around it. On the other corner of the garden, a bunch of women stood tightly in a circle only to break apart to eye another party guest with disdain.
“So—a drink?” James offered. Regardless of being the most out of place in the whole event, James carried himself as though the party was meant for him. It was a trait that in other moments might have annoyed her, but she was thankful to have some relief from the suffocating feeling of anxiety.
James pulled Lily over to the drink table and Vernon turned with heavy effort to intercept them.
“Lily–” Vernon didn’t smile. His eyes were wide to the point where they actually seemed to fit his head for once. He looked at James with the same expression and James’ face eluded pure joy. If there was one thing James Potter could sense, it was someone he could take the piss out of.
“James Potter.” He offered his hand which Vernon eyed with utter disdain. James lowered his hand back to his side, unfazed by the rejection. If anything he smiled wider.
“This is my sister's fiancee, Vernon,” Lily gave James hand a squeeze. She knew his mischievous grin from anywhere.
James ignored her signal. “Absolutely charmed.”
Vernon coughed at the mention of charm and Lily shot James a warning glance.
“Er—I was actually hoping to see you two before Petunia came back out—could we?” Vernon gestured over to a secluded spot in the lawn far away from any of the other guests. Lily and James followed him as Vernon made a little bit too much of a show of not wanting anyone to notice.
Before they could say anything Vernon’s wide eyes soured into a deep anger. He directed his words at Lily.
“I am well aware that we were obligated to invite you on the account of you being family, but I am just going to say this once: if you plan to have any sort of performances this evening that could spoil the night, I suggest you save it for whatever circus you came from. I’ll not be having your kind come and mess up my lovely evening.”
Lily’s cheeks flushed and her eyes became glassy. She had expected them to be rude, sure, but not downright hostile to her—and even in front of someone they had no reason to question.
James’ grin had disappeared and now his jaw was locked. “Excuse me–first off you can stop pointing at my girlfriend like that,” Lily had not noticed that Vernon had clutched a finger outwards between them during his little speech, “second, what exactly are you implying?” Lily grabbed hold of James’ forearm, but he shrugged it away.
“James–it's fine, let me handle it.” Lily tried to sound stern, despite feeling shaken from being threatened by her own future brother in law.
“Well Vernon,” Lily’s eyes were slits, “I wasn’t planning on any performances as you call it, but seeing as you are being such a bloody arsehole—”
James hid his laugh with a cough. Vernon’s eyebrows shot up his face, his cheeks reddened to the point of purple. Petunia, who had caught sight of their gathering from the window, came rushing out towards them, looking panicked.
“Vernon darling, what has happened?” She whipped her head towards Lily. “What did you do already?”
“Well, your bloody freak sister and her punk boyfriend just insulted me—at my own party!” Petunia rubbed Vernon’s arm while darting her head to either side of the garden, hoping that no other party goers were listening in.
“We didn’t say anything that wasn’t already provoked, you know for invited guests and family you haven’t exactly made us feel welcome,” James shot back.
Petunia whispered some words into Vernon’s ear and he mumbled in response back. He shot James a dirty look before thundering back over to the drinks table where the men surrounded him once more.
Petunia watched as he left and faked a sickly looking smile at the guests who glanced their way. She spun back towards Lily.
“You need to leave. I knew this would be a mistake.”
Lily’s face flushed. The battle between anger and sadness culminated into rosy blotches on her cheeks.
“Fine. We were just going anyway. This party is a drag. Come on James.”
Lily stormed back to the door and entered the house ahead of him. James opened his mouth to say something to Petunia, but she had already departed their corner and was chattering amongst the group of women, acting as though she hadn’t just banished her own sister from her party.
James found Lily sitting on the front stoop of the house, sniffling and rubbing her eyes.
He sat down next to her, procuring two cans of gin and tonic from his pocket. “Nicked these as a souvenir.”
Lily let out a meek laugh and took one from his hand. He scooted closer and wrapped his arms around her, softly stroking her hair.
“Sorry if I wasn’t a good teammate today,” he pushed his lips into her hair.
“Nah, you were the best. Sorry my family is such shit—at least now you have witnessed it.”
“Yea, honestly—fuck ‘em.” Lily let out a real laugh this time and James leaned down to kiss it.
“But, to be fair,” he continued, “ it's not everyday we get to take an excursion out of school and I get to see you in a bloody fantastic dress so, despite the tiny upset I’d say this was a success.”
Lily leaned her head on his shoulder and took a breath. The sun was setting and the cool air was setting in.
“What was it you promised me when we got back? To shag all my stress away?” The second it left Lily’s mouth, James’ body perked up.
“I mean, it was an awfully stressful night.”
“Yeah, awfully—we should definitely, definitely do something about that.”
James grabbed Lily’s hand and pulled her up. She laughed at his enthusiasm as he practically ran them past the gate and back onto the mainstreet where Sirius’ motorbike lay waiting for them. The night born anew.
#jily week 2024#Jily Week Day 2#james potter#jily#lily evans#hp#jily fanfiction#marauders#marauders era#Dursleys#Meet the family#some silly fluff#james x lily
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you know what I'm thinking about?? beck oliver. yeah the one from victorious first of all FUCK YOU dan schneider and I'm specifically thinking about this clip from the episode where they try to make a reality show about their high school 0:31
I really hate that beck is one of those characters like lucas friar and tristin dugray where we simply do not get more clarity on them as a person. one of the few times we get to see beck really open up and talk about WHY he's so passionate about acting and it's immediately cut off and overshadowed by how he looks. dare I say he has elle woods syndrome. "beck and jade are toxic" "beck should date cat" "beck and robbie fuck" yeah yeah you know what he REALLY NEEDS????? he needs someone that does not give a single fuck about how he looks. he needs someone who prioritizes HIM instead of his hair. yes he's pretty and he has nice hair but those are all sprinkles. he needs somone who cares about the rest of the cupcake, not just the decorations. I think the reason he thinks he likes angry girls who yell and fight with him all the time is because when he and jade fight she's yelling at him about anything other than his hair. he needs a break from constantly being objectified is my point. you know what would be great?? beck dating a screenwriter. someone who works on the scripts for the hollywood arts shows they put on. someone who hunts him down in the halls looking like they rolled out of a dumpster with sikowitz and reeks of coffee because they've been up for 36 hours to meet their deadline and finish their homework.
you are just that. you do other stuff at hollywood arts too, but there's really not a lot of script writers there, so you've found a way to pretty much corner the market and it looks FANTASTIC on your student transcript, plus you get extra credit for it, which is even better. you're wearing a hoodie that looks like you slept in it for two days (true if you had slept at all) and you're not aware of the two or three empty jet brew cups shoved into your hoodie pocket, plus the extra one you're carrying that you're almost done with.
"Beck!"
you manage to startle him a little which is surprising because he is totally unscareable. he doesn't think you've ever exchanged two words before now, he doesn't even know if he knows your name.
"I need to talk to you," you pant, a little delerious from caffeine and sleep depravation and excitement. "I finished the script for the next play-"
Beck didn't realize that a student was writing any of the shows they put on, he thought they were all lisenced or from local writers.
"It's a dystopian retelling of frankenstein with- with cyberpunk influences," you ramble, "and I need to know if you're okay playing the lead." you pant, still trying to catch your breath and not lose your train of thought.
"some pretty fucked up stuff happens and you'd have to quickly lose your morals and go from morally gray to kind of antagonistic pretty quickly..." you look up at him and hand him a script full of sticky flags. "I wanna make sure there's nothing that'll make you too uncomfortable... like I said it gets pretty fucked up, but I wrote it with you in mind for the doctor, so- just, let me know what you think."
before he can answer, you trudge into the janitor's closet and fall asleep on top of a pile of paper towels.
Beck takes the script home to look over, and he's genuinely surprised for a number of reasons. he expected to be typecast as the love interest yet again, but you want him as the antagonistic lead. it's a really complex role, and has absolutley nothing to do with how he looks. you even left a sticky note in there by accident, and he reads your scribbled handwriting. doc MUST be smwn who fully commits and dgaf if it makes them look bad or silly or unattractive. if they get self consious it ruins the char
underneith are two or three names scribbled out, then his, underlined several times. he is so genuinely shocked by this decision, and absolutely fascenated by your script. he's actually getting really excited to play a role that will challenge him for once.
the next day he meets you with the script tucked under one arm and a coffee in each hand. he hands one to you, and you thank him with a pleasantly surprised smile.
"You seem like you could use it."
"That's putting it mildly..." you mutter in agreement, and he bites back a chuckle when you remove the lid and down half the cup at once. You look at him anxiously after that, and your eyes flit between him and your script. "So... what did you think?"
"I... accept." relief floods through you. "I've already been thinking about my character and going over my lines. But why did you want me for Victor?"
You shrug a little.
"Well, you got the script like, 12 hours ago and you're already developing your portrayal of him, so that's a pretty good reason there," you chuckle, "and I... I hope this doesn't sound mean, but I don't think there are a lot of other people here who could pull off such a complex antagonistic main character."
you state, taking another sip of coffee.
"Everyone here is great, really-" you emphasize, hoping you don't sound like a dick. "I just feel like no one else could really bring the depth to him that you could. He's a horrible person, but I still want the audience to sympathize with him at times, and go wow he's a fucked up asshole at others without making it feel disjointed. I think you're really the only one who has the skills to pull that off."
honestly, if Beck had slightly less self control he would have started wailing and sobbing right then. Instead, he's determined to live up to your expectations and prove to you that your faith in him will pay off. You work pretty closley with production of the show, and with Beck. after closing night, you and Beck are still pretty close, to your pleasant surprise. his friends are a little curious why Beck suddenly is spending all his free time with one of those kids in their class who never talks or says anything, but he seems... happy. he did in fact fall first, and he definitely fell harder. he falls even more when months pass and he realizes you are still too adorably oblivious to realize how he feels.
#drabbles#beck oliver#beck oliver x reader#beck oliver drabbles#victorious#victorious x reader#victorious drabbles#LET BECK BE HAPPY#LET HIM BE SEEN#BECK NEEDS TO DATE SOMEONE ON THE ACE SPECTRUM TBH#beck with an ace and or aro s/o who when asked why they like him you're like “I just think he's neat! :)”#you have never once thrown yourself at him and he has never once wanted anyone so bad#your dynamic is literally “wow that sex was poggers lemme go back to explaining the fnaf lore”#and he's like yes#you are the first person to surprise him this much#beck unfortunately is bored and understimulated a lot#he's grateful for all the opportunities he's been given ofc#but deep down he yearns for more#not for materialistic “I wanna be famous” reasons#he just wants to feel something#and good GOD do you check that box several times over
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Here's my next two emotions, Ennui and Sadness! I'm not working on them in any particular order, just random xD
I decided to reveal some HCs as I reveal their references ^^ Gonna do Anxiety and Fear again in this post since I didn't get to last time oop-
In honor of Ennui, I'm gonna write in French and translate ^^ (I'm French Canadian in nationality so I speak 3 languages B)
• Parle Français exclusivement! - Speaks french exclusively.
• Elle peux aussi parler l'anglais, mais elle choisit de ne pas le faire, sauf pour les anglicismes. - She can speak English as well, but chooses not to, only for slang.
• Grande rêveuse~ - Daydreamer~
• Lunaire. - Moonchild.
• Elle est la petite soeur de Peur. - Fear's little sister.
• Elle aime décorée ses affaires, faire du bricolage, écouter de la musique et regarder des émissions de télé, mais elle est ben trop parresseuse, donc elle attend que ses copains faissent ses activités avec elle. - Likes decorating things, crafts, games, music and watching shows, but is faaaaar~ too lazy, will wait for her friends to do it with her.
• ✨️~Esthétique~✨️ (won't translate that one XD)
• "Lead" emotion.
• Nicknamed Dee by the other emotions.
• Bestie with Anxiety.
• Likes bubbles and baths (separately, but best together!)
• Loves to give hugs when things get sad, which is often XD
• Total sweetheart with a gritty past qvq
• Crush on Embarrassment and shows lots of PDA.
Now for these two idiots! /pos TW for Anxiety x Fear if you aren't into that-
Anxiety :
• Always has extra stationary on her.
• Friendly Rivalry with Joy.
• Besties with Sadness, actually she's second lead emotion!
• Cannot take hinds to safe her life XD (Fear be flirting with a brick wall I swear-)
• Loves Tea and energy drinks.
• Has a "conspiracy" board she keeps her intrusive thoughts on.
• Bi icon 🧡... bi-con 🤔
Fear :
• Nerd vibes.
• Has suspenders under his sweater vest.
• Finds comfort in physical touch and big clothes.
• Jumpscared every easily, but he's good at his job, I avoid things ik will scare me like the plague lmao
• HUGE crush on Anxiety, which he's nervous about, but isn't subtle about.
• Siblings with Ennui.
• Also Bi! 💜
That's all! ^^ Have a great day!
#inside out#inside out 2#inside out anxiety#inside out fear#anxifear#panicfrog#inside out sadness#inside out ennui#headcanon
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i will actually consume anything of dealer ellie pls🤞🏻🤞🏻🤞🏻🤞🏻
Summary: Your girlfriend Ellie is a dealer that everyone goes to on campus. Unbenounced to everyone else that knows you two, you've never smoked before. Ellie takes it upon herself to change that.
A/N: i will be h!gh while writing this!! ;) NOT PROOF READ also first time writing smut
CW: MDNI!! Mentions of weed, swearing, r receiving (oral/fingering)
WC: 1.9k
Indica
You were sitting on the couch next to Ellie in your shared apartment off campus. The two of you had just moved in. It was nice to finally be off campus. You wouldn't have to be interrupted by Ellie's customers' constant knocking on the door. Her stuff was good. or so you heard. You actually wouldn't know because you have never smoked.
You never judged Ellie for it. In fact you like that it made her more mellow. No one would know but you, but Ellie was so clingy when she was high. If she was in front of her friends no. With you on the other hand, she let her wall down and put all of her devotion into you.
The apartment was newly decorated and furnished. All thanks to Ellie's job. You two spent the past couple days putting furniture together and decorating the house, which basically consisted of her building shit and you asking her if the decorations and accents you had put up looked pretty. Of course she said "Yes baby." Every time.
The two of you were snuggled up on the couch under a white fluffy blanket. Music was playing in the background on some expensive speakers Ellie insisted on buying with her hard earned money. Ellie had one arm snaked around your neck as she rolled up a joint for the two of you. She let you pick out the cherry flavored rolling papers special for tonight.
"You excited babe?" She eagerly asked.
You giggled at her excitement. "Yeah I guess so." You laughed. Truth is you weren't really nervous. You didn't think smoking was bad by any means but it was just never something that interested you. Until now.
Ellie brought the paper to her tongue and licked a thin line up the spliff. She finished rolling and set the joint on the table.
You looked at her, ready to question why she set it down. "Are we not-"
She cut you off. "Are you sure you want to do this?" She asked, eyes showing slight concern. "I don't want to feel like I'm pressuring you. We've been together for a year and I haven't minded that you don't smoke, you know?"
You smirked at her and leaned in for a kiss. You grabbed the collar of her hoodie and pulled her closer to you, deepening the kiss. She was being so sweet to you. But you were ready.
Once you pulled away you giggled. "I know you're not pressuring me Ells" You grabbed the joint and the lighter off the table and handed it to her. "I wanna."
She took the two items from you hands and pulled your chin towards her, connecting your lips once more. "That's my girl." She says. "Open up."
You blush and open your lips slightly. She places the spliff in between your soft lips. You press your mouth down on it slightly. You lock eyes with Ellie and she strikes the lighter up. Your heart starts beating faster as she brings the flame closer to the edge of the paper. You kept your eyes on her the whole time, showing her that you could handle it. The flame touched the paper and smoke started to fill the air, the smell of the plant flowing into the room.
"Breathe in slow baby." She whispers, watching you cautiously. You follow her instructions. You take two fingers and take the joint from your lips. You let out a small cough. Not bad, you thought. You bring the joint back and take a couple more inhales, then pass it to Ellie.
She looked at you with wild eyes as she took a hit. "Damn, Y/N/N. I did not expect that out of you, let me tell ya." She laughed.
You started to feel the euphoric effects hitting you. Your head felt light and your body felt tingly. "What, did you think your girlfriend wasn't as cool as you?" You laugh. "I can be cool."
Ellie pushes your shoulder and you can feel it through your whole body. "Cool people don't say they're cool."
"Like you would know." You say, continuing to make fun of her. She has the biggest smirk on her face. She passes the joint back to you and you take another pull. The cherry flavor seeping into your lips. The two of you continue to joke back and forth as you got higher and higher.
Ellie takes the joint from you and sets it in the ashtray. You were not complaining. You were high out of your mind, but in the best way. You finally understood why this was such a popular recreational activity. You felt euphoric. Your entire body was light. You swore you were floating at some points. Ellie noticed you didn't look all there and she laughed. "Damn, you're high."
"Yeah no shit." You laughed too. You gazed over at Ellie. She looked absolutely stunning. Her green eyes were more noticeable with the red hue her low eyes now had. She stared back, looking at your face up and down. She licked her lips. The music that was playing was so right for this moment. You felt it in your body and soul. You don't know what came over you, probably the drugs, but you wanted Ellie. She couldn't just sit there looking that good and get away with it.
It was almost like she had read your mind. One second you two were sitting apart on the couch, the next you were on top of her, arms wrapped around her neck, kissing her deeply. As the kiss deepened your head spun. You kissed her desperately, a soft moan slipping past your lips. She smirked into the kiss, but never stopping. Her hands were grabbing your hips, slowly starting to grind them down onto her. You continued like this for a few minutes, each second your movements getting more and more desperate. You had done this with her a million times but being high just made it feel so much better.
"Ellie please," You whine into the kiss.
She pulls away for a moment and gazes up at you. "What do you want?" She smirks, using her finger to tilt your chin down towards her. "Tell me."
Your breath is shaky with anticipation. You were flustered by her request. "I want you to touch me." You pleaded, grabbing her fingers and putting them at the waistband of your shorts.
She flips you over so you're laying on your back. Your heart was beating so fast and you had a dreamy smile stretched across your face. Ellie took a moment to look at how beautiful you looked with now hooded, red eyes. She leaned down to kiss you one last time before putting her fingers back onto your waistband.
"I'm about to show you the best part of smoking with me." She said lowly. Your heart was beating faster if that was even possible, anticipating what was to come. Ellie began to slide your shorts down your legs and your breath hitched. She tossed them aside and positioned herself in between your legs, her leg brushing against your clothed cunt. A whine leaves your lips at the contact.
"Ellie stop teasing me." You grab her hoodie and tug it off of her, leaving her in only a sports bra and shorts. She drops the sweatshirt on the floor and leans down to kiss your neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses down the side of your neck, down your chest. Your shirt was still on, not allowing her to leave marks on your tits. She quickly removes your shirt to reveal your chest. She takes a moment to gaze down at you, you blush under her stare.
"So beautiful," She whispers. Ellie then picks up were she left off, kissing down your chest. She cups your right breast in her hand and squeezes it roughly while she worked her tongue over your nipple.
You let out another soft moan. The feeling of her tongue on your nipple was electric. She grabs at your tits for a while longer then moves down to kiss your stomach all the way down to your core. Her fingers return to the waistband of your panties. She looks up at you for approval. You nod eagerly. She takes your nod as an okay and slides them down your thighs. Her face hovers over your dripping cunt. She blows cool air lightly on your clit, causing you to buck your hips up. She loves teasing you and if you thought this was the end of the teasing you were wrong. She inches her face closer and presses her lips softly against your clit giving it a small kiss.
"Ellie," You groan. You were growing impatient now.
The brunette took this as her sign to get to work. She was desperate to make you feel good while you were under the euphoric influence. Her tongue licked a long strip through your folds. You moaned as you felt the feeling of ecstasy flow through your whole body. She swirled her tongue around your clit taking her time speeding up and slowing down sending shocks of pleasure through your core. Your hands found a home in her hair, holding on for dear life. You couldn't help yourself from grinding your pussy onto her face as she ate you out. The wet noises coming from her mouth and your cunt were making you wetter by the second.
"Fuckkkk, baby you feel so good." You sighed in pure bliss.
Ellie lifted her head up and replaced her tongue with her fingers, circling your red clit with her pointer and middle finger. "You taste so good pretty girl." She said, eyes filled with lust. You threw your head back at her words. She slide her two fingers inside you and connected her mouth back to your cunt. Slowly, she pumped her fingers in and out of your core as she sucked and licked your wetness, not wanting to waste a single drop. The speed of her fingers increased as she continued to suck on your clit.
You could feel your orgasm coming as you pushed her head further down onto your pussy. She moaned at the way you forced her head down, her moans vibrating through you core. You couldn't contain yourself. You rode her face as you moaned in ecstasy, moaning louder than you have in a long time.
"Ellie, baby fuck." You cried out. "'m gonna cum."
The brunette moaned again, as if to urge you to finish. Her tongue worked eagerly up and down your cunt and around your clit. As she continued to work her fingers in and out of your hole, her lips pursed down to suck on your clit again. Heat was building up in your core and flowing into your stomach. A wave of pleasure rode over you ask you reached your orgasm, cumming all over Ellie's pretty face.
You rode out the wave on her face loudly. After she was done she lifted her face and gazed up at you in awe. Your slick dripping down her face. You licked your lips and pulled her up to kiss you. Your lips smashing together. You opened your mouth for her to side her tongue in, tasting yourself from her mouth. She moaned into the kiss.
You pulled away and pushed her so she was laying on her back on the couch. She sighed and put her hands behind her head, leaning back.
"Your turn." You smirk.
#dealer!ellie#dealer!ellie x reader#ellie x reader#ellie the last of us#ellie williams fluff#ellie williams#ellie williams x reader#the last of us#tlou#request#request open#ellie williams smut#lesbian#angels asks.ೃ࿐
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Thoughts on Scott and Impulse?
Hello Anon! Sorry I took so long to answer this one. I have strong feelings about Scottpulse, so I wanted to be able to answer this ask in a way that conveyed my feelings properly. However, with traveling to and from Thanksgiving backing up a couple of asks and then going straight into my exams afterwards, I haven't had a lot of time to think this one through.
Scottpulse is the physical manifestation of a warm hug. Those two are fairy lights and pillow forts and the default hosts of Friendsgiving for the Americans.
Impulse would get caught up in how pretty Scott is all of the time. He can't wrap his head around how Scott looks so beautiful in every lighting at every angle. He's just so photogenic all of the time. Impulse isn't a big picture taker, but he takes most of the photos Scott posts on social media. Now, Scott knows that he's pretty. He better be pretty. He puts a lot of effort into looking nice, and he enjoys the attention. However, Impulse is so earnest about how gorgeous he finds Scott to be, and it's his sincerity and emotional vulnerability that makes Scott coy.
Scott is the type to have a panic attack during a horror movie, while Impulse acts tough and big and strong. Meanwhile, Scott is totally calm and comfortable during True Crime shows, while Impulse is completely horrified the whole time. Impulse is all "this is REAL LIFE!! You hate the fictional ones, but this is REAL" and Scott's like "yeah but sometimes it just be like that :)".
Not a day goes by where Scott isn't blown away by Impulse's technical knowledge. He loves to watch Impulse work, and Impulse loves to talk Scott through what he's doing. Scott thinks that Impulse's intelligence is so very attractive, even though Scott, himself, has absolutely no idea what's going on the whole time.
Impulse has talked on the Imp & Skizz podcast about wanting to get really into decorating his home for the holidays, especially since he still has young kids. I can imagine Scott being so excited that Impulse wants to decorate and asking Impulse to make a list of everything in his vision. Then, Scott and Impulse buy some of those big blow-up decorations and DIY a bunch of decorations. They're very proud of it.
Additionally, I've seen some art of Wild Life Episode 7 Impulse in blue and orange as a superhero costume, and it's the same shades that Scott picked for his Transporter New Life SMP character, which is also a character that teleports and swaps places with people. All I'm saying is.... boyfriend clothes :)
Most of the time, Impulse is pretty mild when flirting with friends, but I think he would be a very romantic partner to Scott. It might not be entirely in his nature, but he knows how much Scott really appreciates a big gesture now and then. The first time Impulse set up a big thing, it was a romantic dinner with Scott's favorite scented candles, a home cooked meal he knew Scott would like, and a nice bottle of wine. He wore a black button up with long sleeves rolled up to his elbows and brown dress pants. Scott very much had a "am I being seduced right now" moment when he walked in.
Elle (Scott's cat) and Prim (Impulse's dog) love each other. They're attached at the hip. They always greet both Impulse and Scott whenever they get home regardless of whether or not Impulse and Scott have come home together or separately.
They fret over each other like mother hens when one of them is sick. "What are you doing out of bed?!" "Here, this will boost your immune system." "If you need anything, text or call me immediately. No problem is too small. It's what I'm here for." Homemade soup is their love language.
Impulse loves Pitch Perfect and Taylor Swift. I know Scott loves Taylor Swift, and I have no doubt that he's a Pitch Perfect fan. They would listen to Pitch Perfect and Taylor Swift songs all of the time.
Socially, Scott and Impulse are Yin and Yang. Preferring to spend a most of his time with one or two people, Impulse is a little on the quieter side, while Scott tries to spend a little bit of time with everyone. Combined, they get ALL the gossip.
I don't know how to explain this one, but I just feel like the curtains in their bedroom are dark purple and completely opaque. I am extremely set on this headcanon for no reason. I will die on this hill. Sunlight shines in through slivers between the curtains, creating hard shadows that really bring out the colors of the room in the morning. In contrast, Impulse's hair is so soft under Scott's fingers.
I cannot explain why, but I am extremely dead set on their colors being royal purple and gold. That's their wedding color theme. I literally cannot fathom them as any other colors.
Thank you for the ask!!🩵🩵🩵
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Don't Touch My Fuckin' Daughter
Paring: Father!TommyxDaughter!ReaderxAnnoying!Alfie
Warnings: Swearing, age gap flirting (but not dirty...banter like)
Summary: Alfie and Tommy Shelby's daughter roast him for a good five minutes.
Word Count: 2,425
A/N: This is my first time writing Alfie, so I am a little nervous. This one shot is all in good fun. :)
Please comment and reblog. Let me know how I did!
She was supposed to be studying. That’s what she had told Tommy. “Daddy, I want to go to university.” Uni-fuckin’-versity! She barely passed her secondary education. But he was willing to allow her to go under the condition…well, under three. “One,” he had started, pacing around her chair. “No fuckin’ partying! If I’m sending your modern woman’s arse to fuckin’ London to study, that’s exactly what you’re going to do!” He stopped pacing around the chair and knelt, getting real close to her face. His finger wiggling with purpose, he continued, “two, you pass your courses. You study, you do your work, your exams. And three! No fuckin’ boys.” Loud and clear, those were Tommy Shelby’s conditions for allowing his eighteen year old daughter to go to London for university. Well, not exactly university, but a women’s college. He was kind and all about it; getting her set up in a flat. It was a nice one, too, with a balcony. One room and a kitchen! Though, she couldn’t fry a bloody fuckin’ egg.
Everyone thought it silly, but Tommy wanted to test the waters. You know? Give the girl some breathing room to flourish and grow. Despite not exactly being confident in her success. Two months. No home visits, to and from. Only phone calls and short letters. Until one day, he decided that he wanted to join his little girl for afternoon tea. Early one Friday morning, he hopped in his car with some flowers and a small gift in hopes to make it for twelve.
When her flat appeared in the distance, he couldn’t wait to see how she was doing. She sounded so enthusiastic in her letters. “Oh, daddy! I am making so many friends in my courses! And my professors really like me. Life is good here in London.” He anticipated her flat to be decorated as Polly had decorated her bedroom back in Birmingham; pink aesthetic with white trim. He jiggled with the door, flowers under his arm and gift handle between his teeth.
“C’mon,” he grumbled in a muffle trying to shimmy the door open with the spare key. When the door finally opened the smile faded into a look of disgust. There was no pink aesthetic. No fucking white trimming. No paintings of Paris and Rome! Instead it was nothing short of the interior of an American mid-western tornado. And there was a stench of something rotten. “Fuckin’ ‘ell,” he whispered under his breath, attempting to walk in when he nearly tripped over a pastry box before getting his feet tangled in a pair of ladies trousers. “Shite!” he yelled out, gripping onto the sofa. He shouted for his daughter. But there was no answer. Only something of the mix of a snore and snort. He tossed the bouquet on the sofa when someone grunted. He turned his eyes and saw a boy slowly waking up, glaring up at him. On the rocking chair, there was another bloke.
“Mate,” the one on the sofa hissed, squinting as he sat up. Rubbing is eyes, he asked, “what the fuck?” He reached over to the half empty beer bottle to swish his mouth. Tommy arched a brow, clearly appalled.
He didn’t want to but he kept moving on, navigating the trash. He peeked in the loo and of course there was another bloke sleeping in the tub. Tommy grumbled and turned on the tap, watching the boy shoot up, cursing. “Get the fuck out!” he cursed, turning it off. The boy gave him a wild look trying to catch his breath. Before he could say anything, Tommy thumbed to the door. “Don’t you have a job to get to?” The boy blinked before replying no. “You’re fuckin’ kidding?! Get out…go on! And grab the two baboons on the fuckin’ couch while you’re at it, eh?” The boy nodded and walked past him, dripping wet and shivering.
Tommy prayed, which he never did, before entering her bedroom. “I swear to god,” he grumbled, hand on the door handle. “Better not be what I…fuckin’ ‘ell!” He hollered, opening her bedroom door. Hanging over her bed was another bloke and laying with her on the bed were three other girls. He screamed her name and she shot up, blinking for a moment before realizing who it was.
“Daddy!” she squealed, grabbing her blanket and covering herself. Her friends were waking up, and he yelled at them to ‘fuckin’ leave’. Which they were happy to when noticing Mr. Shelby was no man to mess around with. “Daddy! You didn’t say you were coming…why are you here? I mean, daddy, I am happy to see you…but why?”
Tommy froze, mouth open for a second before he finally said, “I didn’t think I needed permission to stop by considering I pay for the fucking flat!” She swallowed, and there was a pause. He was staring her down, shaking his head. “On Thursday night? Where do all these people live? Do these people work? It’s fuckin’ noon! Don’t you have a course at eight on Fridays?”
She winced. “Attendance…is…optional-but, daddy! As long as I do my work, and I do! I really, really do!” Tommy shook his head. “Are you disappointed?” She tried to give him the cute pout that he could never resist. Though, it was easy when the flat he paid for was absolutely trashed and his lovely daughter wasn’t attending her classes.
“You broke our conditions!” He pointed at her. “Now, c’mon. Get dressed. I’m taking you back to Birmingham until I am sure I can trust you.” He left her bedroom and she followed, getting dressed as she walked. “Fuckin’ ‘ell,” he grumbled, kicking shit out of the way before turning to her. “You need a map for this place! Look at it! Navigating the fuckin’ Amazon! I’m surprised Tarzan isn’t swinging by your bloomers hanging on the ceiling!”
“Daddy, alright,” she grumbled. “Let me just find my bag-”
“You can find Noah’s lost fucking ark better than finding anything in this dump.” He turned to her. “Love! I could wiggled myself through the fucking tunnels in Paris better than I’m walking through this.” He would not stop. “Stevie the fucking sewer rat doesn’t even want to eat whatever is growing that pan…it has fuzz! Why does the fucking pan in the sink have fuzz?!” He walked over to the kitchen shaking his head. “Tell me! Are you allergic to dish soap?! In fact, are you allergic to anything that needs responsibility! Seriously, who raised you? Because apparently it wasn’t me. No one in our family lives like this! In fact, no one lives like this.” The girl, used to her father’s antics, simply grabbed her coin purse and coat. “C’mon…what the fuck is this!?” He looked down and there was a pile of women’s panties hanging on his foot. “Whose are these?” He picked them up.
“Daddy! They’re mine!”
He started to get angry for a whole other reason. “What business do you have wearing underwear like this?” He threw them in a pile.
“Daddy!” she whined again, picking them up. “That’s the clean pile…that is the dirty pile.”
“Clean pile? Oh, so you're telling me there is something clean in this flat?”
They made their way down the stairs and to his car parked on the curb. The whole way down he complained. I bought you flowers…already wilted from the stench in there. I swear, I saw the fucking trashman in there picking through. Fuckin’ ‘ell, ten percent stuff…ninety percent garbage. The bloody fucking trenches were more organized! And on and on and on until they were finally in the car. He turned to her, giving her one last look of disappointment before saying, “I have a stop in London. You have to come with me and then we are going home…home! And when we get home, I want your keys to the car and the flat.”
“Wait, daddy, I am going to a business meeting with you? You never-”
“It’s not a meeting,” he said. “It’s just a check in, if you will.” A check in? She scoffed. Her father must do that often, she had thought. He drove for some time, every so often telling her about the new rules for when she moves back home. “Hand in your keys. No more allowance! You’ll get a job, work part time and go to school in Birmingham. Finn will be taking you to and from. And I’ll tell you another thing…no more fucking partying.” He parked the car at what looked like a distillery. She climbed out after him and followed at his tail.
“Who are we meeting?” she asked.
He looked over his shoulder, and replied sarcastically, “the Jewish spokesman…don’t speak. Just stand there and we’ll leave. The less he has to comment on, the better.” She stopped for a minute, knitting her brows before shrugging. They walked inside and down a stairwell before tucking themselves in a room. There was a man turned, mumbling to himself. Even inside, he wore a top hat and held onto a walking stick.
“Mornin’, Alfie,” Tommy said, pulling out a chair and taking a seat. He looked up at his girl and nodded to the chair next to him.
The man turned, and snorted. “It’s fuckin’ noon, Tommy.”
Tommy sighed, and nodded. “Noon, Alfie.”
Alfie turned and raised his brow at the girl who simply smiled at him. “What the fuck is this!? Picking up strays along the fuckin’ way?” She laughed and told her father that he was funny.
“Yeah,” he responded, dryly, rolling his eyes. “He gets funnier as the time moves on. At least he thinks so.” He motioned to his daughter. “Alfie, this is my girl. Just picking her up from school. Thought since I was in the area, I’d pay a visit.”
Alfie was still looking at the girl, mouth gaped a bit. “Tommy! Tommy fuckin’ Shelby, you know you don’t have to go that fuckin young? She looks like she’s still attached to her mother’s-”
“No, no! Sir,” she laughed, shaking her head. “No! He’s my daddy.”
That only made it worse. “Didn’t fucking know you were into that, but at least your money is being spent on something more than whiskey and whatever else you fucking Gypsies spend yer money on.” Tommy let out a long annoyed sigh, instantly rubbing his temple. “Well, don’t fuckin’ look at me like that! It’s your prerogative, aint it, yeah?”
“She’s my daughter, Alfie,” he said. “Thank you for just making this short visit more uncomfortable than it had to be. On point and key, eh?”
Alfie looked at the girl to Tommy and back to the girl. He walked over, leaning into her face before facing Tommy. “She fucking looks nothing like ya’!” He went back to examining her face, smiling slightly. “That fuckin’ God…I’ll tell you that much! She must take after-”
“Adopted,” Tommy interrupted. “She’s adopted. That’s why.”
“Good fuckin’ luck that is,” he said. “Cause if I had a father that looked like you, I’d pray every fucking day I didn’t look like ya’!”
“Thank you, Mr.-er?” She winced, wanting to be polite. “What should I call you? My daddy taught me to never address an elder by their first name.” The air in the room shifted, and Alfie straightened. When his smile dropped, Tommy’s widened. “Oh! I offended you. I’m sorry. But thank you…I am also happy that I don’t share DNA with him…he’s got,” she paused, and stood, leaning into the mysterious man’s ear. “Issues.”
The smiles switched again and Alfie pulled away, gently putting a hand on her arm. “That is what I’ve been fuckin’ saying, mate! You got problems.” He looked back down at the girl, and took off his hat. “Sorry, love, I don’t mean to swear so much.”
Tommy looked taken aback and said, “Alfie, I’m surprised. You have social awareness. Since when?”
“Well, unlike you, I like her!” Alfie said. “She’s pleasant to be around. You, on the other hand, not so fuckin’ much.”
“Pleasant? Keep her hair overnight,” Tommy said. “Then call me in the morning and let me know how much hair you've lost up top…not that there is much to lose. Noticed you're getting quite thin up there.”
“Daddy!” she whined, her bottom lip pouting out. She affectionately rubbed Alfie’s arm and looked up at him. “I’m so sorry. He’s always like this-”
“I know!” Alfie agreed, taking a seat and pulling her down with him. “Pass my cigar case, love.” Tommy’s jaw stiffened when her delicate hand reached for his metal cigar case. Tommy swatted her hand away. “What?!”
“Get off his lap-”
“Daddy, you’re being ridiculous,” she accused, grabbing the case and taking one out for him, lighting it. “There you go, Mr. Solomons.”
“Call me, Alfie, love,” he said, puffing it. “You know, he comes in here while I’m minding my own business-”
“He does that to me, too!” she agreed, shaking her head. To keep her steady, she wrapped her arms around his neck, and smiled. “Shows absolutely no respect. Just barges right in. Did that to me today, Alfie. And guess what? I’m the bad one because my flat is messy! How am I to clean it for him if I don’t even know he’s coming?” Tommy rolled his eyes, mumbling under his breath unreal.
“Un-fuckin-real,” Alfie agreed, looking at Tommy. “You could learn a thing or two from this girl, Tommy. Sweet, pleasant, and personable. She has a personality! Say, what do you have, Tommy?”
His daughter frowned. “Generational trauma…stems from his father. No doubt about it.” She turned to her father, and reached out her hand. “Daddy, it’s okay. You will be okay.” With that, Tommy stood, and fixed his coat.
“Alright,” he sighed. “Enough of this. Come on, we are gonna head out. Alfie, good-bye. Just wanted to stop and say hello-”
“And you already did,” Alfie said. “So why did you stay so long?” He smiled back at the girl, and rubbed her arm kindly. She giggled lightly and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek. “You come back here anytime. Makes dealing with him easier.”
“I will, Alfie,” she said, sliding off his lap and walking to the door. She waved goodbye and left.
“And you’re still here. The Shelby I like left, leaving the one that gives me nothing, but-”
“Alfie,” he interrupted, pointing his gloved finger at the man. “Touch my daughter like that again and I’ll fuckin’ shoot you, yeah?”
#Tommy Shelby#alfie solomons#fanfiction#peaky blinders#peaky blinders oc#peaky blinder fanfic#ao3#fanfic#tommy shelby fanfiction#tommy shelby imagine
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Pierre Gasly and Big Hugs from the Family [no warnings]
Day 11 of the Vetteltea Advent Calendar
The silvery car pulling up outside of the Gasly’s family home was enough to make your stomach churn. It was breathtaking, truly. A beautiful tiled path leads to the ornate front door, soft lights decorating the roof for the holiday season. The tree, the one he had told you about so many times, how his elder brothers would tease him until he learnt to scale the branches, stood to the left, draped in identical string lights, a reindeer statue artistically placed underneath.
Pierre ceases the engine, his own hands dropping from the wheel of the car. It takes less than a second before one of them finds your own, gently slipping it into his touch and offering a comforting squeeze. He knows all too well, after meeting your parents the previous night, that you only have one chance to make an impression. Despite his lavish and overbearing reputation, your family had fallen head over heels for your boyfriend the previous evening. A quick pit-stop in a hotel that evening, you had spent the day driving to his family’s home for the remainder of the holiday.
He’d given you a gentle reminder during the drive, that only three of his brothers would be present when the two of you would arrive that evening. Even so, your eyes had gone wide from finally seeing the front door, identical to the photos that Pierre had shown you of his five-year old self, standing in front of the door on his first day of school with a huge grin. This was the first time in a long time, after all, that he had bought a girl home.
Everybody knew of his reputation; how every moment of every day he seemingly had a new plaything on his arm; maybe that was the reason you were so nervous of meeting his family; what if Pierre got sick of you in less than a week and dumped you for some pretty blonde he’d crossed paths with in Monaco?
You didn’t have time to be nervous; not before you heard a loud scream from outside of the windows. Both yours and your boyfriend’s head snapped in the direction of the house, Pierre’s mother now stood on the porch. Gently, Pierre slips his hand from your grasp, leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to the temple of your head.
“Come on.” He coaxes. “Let’s do it, yes?”
The words are what you need, pushing you from the safe-space of the car. Pierre is the first to move, opening the driver side door and making a beeline to the passenger side, opening the door for you. One gentle hand reaches out, clasping yours when you lift from the seat. By the time you’ve stepped away from the car seat, his mother is already there. You had heard the stories, how Pierre was a mother’s boy because he was the youngest, her baby.
She completely bypassed her son, taking you in her arms and pulling you into her chest. You feel her heart racing in awe, warm hands clasping you so tightly and your chest relaxes. She’s welcoming you, she is already elated by you. When she pulls back, her two hands reach forward to cup your face, pressing a gentle kiss to either one of your cheeks.
“Pierre! Elle est tellement belle!” She’s shouting about how beautiful you are. You’re not like the other girls she sees her son photographed with. You’re naturally beautiful, and she can sense you have a strong head on your shoulders and a good heart. You’re good for him, perfect for him. This time, when she pulls you back into a hug, she pulls Pierre alongside you, tightly squeezing you for one more moment.
“Cyril! Paul! Nik! Aide-les avec les sacs!” Her demand for his elder brothers to come down from the porch and help the two of you with your luggage is met immediately, not before each brother has pulled you into a hug, agreeing with their mother that you are quite simply the greatest women he has ever pulled. Cyril laughs, throwing one arm around your shoulder and pulling you closer to his own side. His English is stronger than his mother’s, though he’s still able to understand both.
“Pierre is really punching with you, no?” He laughs, the youngest brother’s cheeks turning pink. “Seriously. You are beautiful. Way too good for him!” This time, you can’t help but join in the laughter, the youngest Gasly’s hands reaching out in mock surrender.
“Yes, alright.” He grins. “She’s too good for me. But she’s still mine.” Cyril eventually removes his arm from around your shoulder, whistling for one of the suitcases to be passed to him, all being taken up to Pierre’s childhood bedroom, he was the most nervous about you seeing that later on. Whilst the three men carry the cases inside, your boyfriend takes the time to wrap his own arms around you, pulling you closer to his chest.
“Are you feeling better now, yes?” He presses a soft kiss to your forehead, letting you relax into his chest. “You’re her favorite now, no questions asked.”
You take notice of his pout, stretching upward and pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “It’s okay. You’ll always be my favourite.”
#Pierre Gasly#PG10#Pierre Gasly x Reader#Pierre Gasly Imagine#Pierre Gasly One Shot#Pierre Gasly x You#Reader Insert#F1#Formula 1#F1 x Reader#Pierre Gasly Blurb#Pierre Gasly x Y/N
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Hi babe
I was on pinterest and I found this pics and they reminded me of your vampire!ellie x reader headcanons... like imagine the reader wearing white pearls and Ellie bites her and they become all red just like this
Ellie Williams Headcanons: Vampire!Ellie
Part 1 here • also hi babes- this has cured my writers block so tysm😭
This woman ughhhhh
The absolute DEFINITION of a gentle woman!!!!
Holds your hand constantly, kneels down to tie your shoelaces up for you, kisses your hand and cheek etc etc etc.
Buys you the most beautiful clothes, jewels, purses and shoes.
Purposely buys you low cut tops to expose your neck.
And loves when you wear necklaces sm!!! Adores how it decorates and shows of your beautiful collarbones.
It was a pretty hectic day for you and Ellie- she had to socialize with other vampires and it was not something Ellie talked highly of, especially in the form of a ball.
She did however, love the look of you in your new black silk floor length dress she'd bought for you, the sleeves were off the shoulder showing off your pearl covered neck and your lips were painted blood red.
Every vampire in the room was looking at you like they would eat you whole, Ellie included. The hungry stares of immortal beings used to freak you out- but with Ellie by your side, her hand never leaving the small of your back you had never felt safer.
After the twelve hour long ceremony, feast and ball you and Ellie were finally alone for the first time, sitting in the back of her favorite classic car- the driver enclosed in their own section, giving you both privacy.
No words were exchanged between the two of you before her lips were on your neck, kissing and licking on the skin. "Can I bite you, little mouse?" She whispered her mouth ceasing the assault of kisses waiting for your signal.
"please Ells..." You whined gripping at her desperately and who was she to deny her little mouse...?
Her teeth pierced your skin drawing blood and sucking slowly- her teeth nipped at your neck harder at the sound of a sharp intake of breath.
Blood dripped out of her mouth, running down your neck and onto the multiple string of white pearls. Tainting the clean colour crimson. She pulled away licking the open wound and lapping up the mess of her your neck. Your eyes were glazed over- eyes sleepy and head now resting in her shoulder.
"Go to sleep darling, you did so well for mistress..."
Oh yeah did I mention vampire!Ellie likes calling herself mistress?
Yeah she does. It's hot asf.
Teaches you how to ride a horse. Sitting infront of her, arms wrapped around you as she holds the reins
It's very very cute.
Unlike a lot of her kind, she really enjoys technology.
It's so much easier to communicate, all knowledge is at her fingertips, you can send her nudes.
You forced Ellie to take you to build a bear and you got a bat with her voice in it- you sleep with it when she's not there. ❤️
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#ellie williams#lesbian#the last of us#wlw#ellie williams fic#ellie williams x fem!reader#ellie williams x female reader#ellie williams x reader#lesbian fic#ellie x reader#ellie williams headcanons#ellie the last of us#ellie#ellie x fem reader#ellie williams imagine#vampire!ellie#vampire fic#lesbian vampire#vampire#tlou fic#the last of us fic#tlou#the last of us part 2#ellie x you
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