#fake lobby card

[fakelobbycards]

Godzilla Minus One, fake Japanese Lobby Card. 2023

[pathologicalreid]

xoxo | s.r.

in which your daughter goes to the BAU to hand out her extra Valentines

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff content warnings: horrible tooth rotting fluff, chemist!reader and leah, the spencer reid dilf agenda, valentine's day, reader wears pink (it's FESTIVE) word count: 1.47k a/n: happy valentine's day my loves!!!!

You had just finished helping your daughter put her visitor badge over her head before she proudly approached the two agents manning the security desk.

She brandished two Valentine’s Day cards for them, grinning while they looked down at her in surprise. You watched them tentatively take the cardstock from your three-year-old while she teetered back and forth in her pink Mary Janes. They thanked her while you pulled your visitor badge on. “C’mon, Leah,” you said, holding your hand out for her to take, “Let’s go see Daddy.”

“Daddy!” She chirped, her pure, childhood joy causing people in the lobby to stare. Most people were already vaguely aware of who she was, and even if they weren’t, it’s difficult to be truly bothered by a kid wearing heart antennae. Adjusting her grip on her basket of Valentines, she led you to the elevator, practically dragging you through Quantico.

Her hand couldn’t quite reach the button in the elevator, accidentally hitting the number four while wavering on her tippy toes. “Here, lovey,” you said, reaching over her and pushing the number six for her.

Leah beamed up at you. “Thank you,” she whispered, lowering herself and standing next to you, tugging on your pink sweater in an attempt to get your attention—as if she had ever lost it. “You wanna Valentine?” Her voice was soft, as if you were exchanging state secrets in the elevator, sweetly leaning her head against your leg. She stumbled over the name of the holiday a bit, replacing the second ‘n’ with an ‘m.’

“I’ll get one after everyone else,” you reassured her, adjusting her headband and smiling at the way the hearts bobbled.

She nodded confidently, making faces at her reflection in the elevator doors as you continued your way up.

You held your breath as the doors opened, once again holding your hand out for her to take so you could enter the bullpen in an orderly fashion, but as soon as they were open, she had taken off, the door being held open for someone else, leaving a perfect gap for her to slip through. There was barely enough time for you to call, “Incoming,” before she ran directly into Luke.

Thanking Anderson for holding the door for you, you followed Leah into the bullpen at a much slower pace and locked eyes with your husband, sighing in relief at the fact that you’d made it with little stress.

Your daughter had already been rescued from a room full of tall people by Dave, who’d hoisted her onto someone’s desk, so they were nearly at eye level. “Happy Valentime’s, Dave,” she said excitedly, urgently rifling through her basket to find a treat that she deemed worthy of his receipt.

Rossi smiled at her, “Happy Valentine’s Day, kiddo. What have you got there?” You weren’t sure if he was faking interest for the sake of your toddler, but either way, you were grateful for the opportunity to sneak by them, approaching Spencer’s desk.

He powered off his computer monitor as you leaned on the edge of his desk. “Hey,” he greeted, leaning his head up so you could plant a quick kiss on his lips. “Did she have fun?”

You nodded, peeking over your shoulder to see Dave walking Leah around to hand out Valentines to the entire office. “We severely underestimated the number of parents who keep their kids home for Valentine’s Day,” you informed him. Leah’s daycare class had been nearly empty when you picked her up early.

“What does that mean for us?” He asked, placing his hand on your knee and giving it a squeeze.

Raising your eyebrows, you grinned impishly, “It means we’re bringing a lot of lollipops home with us.”

Spencer chuckled, eyes following Leah as she made her way to Emily’s office, jumping up the steps and giggling at the sound effects that Tara made when she landed. “How was your morning?” He asked nonchalantly, and since nothing Spencer ever did was nonchalant, you knew he was on a fishing expedition.

The corners of your mouth quirked up while he shuffled the papers on his desk, preparing to spend his lunch with you and Leah. “Oh, I dropped Leah off and then went to work. I only had one class to teach, Physical Chemistry, as you know. I had some time before I needed to be back at the daycare, so I decided to stop at home and found a large bouquet of red and pink roses on the kitchen counter. They didn’t belong there, so I tossed them in the trash before heading here.”

“You did not,” Spencer challenged, grinning up at you, pushing his tongue against his teeth like he did when he was holding in a laugh.

You laughed breathily, hiding your smile behind your hand until Spencer reached up and took your hand in his. “No,” you acquiesced, “But I have no idea where we’re going to put two dozen roses.”

He pretended to think about it for a moment. “How about the kitchen counter?”

Humming, you leaned down to kiss him again. “Works for me,” you murmured to him on your way back up. You turned your head to find your toddler, seeing that Penelope had made her way to the bullpen and was putting a red feather boa around Leah’s neck.

Listening in on their conversation, you frowned when you overheard Leah complaining that the boa wasn’t pink. “Leah,” Spencer called her name, having overheard the conversation himself. “What do you say to Aunt Penelope?”

The three-year-old spun around, stumbling a bit when she tried to come to a stop, before looking up at Garcia and jumping, “Thank you! Matches my butterfly ears!” She fumbled the word ‘butterfly’ a bit in all of her excitement—bubberfly.

Your husband looked at you, confused. “Butterfly ears?”

“Antennae, obviously,” you told him, shaking your head in faux disappointment that he didn’t understand what she was talking about.

He shook his head in disbelief. “Hey, princess, c’mere,” he said, waving over your daughter.

You waved to JJ and Emily as they joined the impromptu gathering, with everyone in the bullpen watching while Leah skipped over to her dad. “Hi, Daddy,” she greeted, lifting her arms for him to pick her up, which he did happily.

“Hi, baby. Happy Valentine’s Day,” he replied, sweeping a stray strand of hair from her forehead. He’d left before you got her dressed this morning, so he hadn’t been able to see her in her festive outfit, complete with a pink and red tutu.

Comfortably sitting in her father’s lap, she giggled when he tickled her side. “Happy Valentime’s Day, Daddy,” she managed to squeak out. Sighing when he finally gave her a break, she asked, “Lunch?”

You smiled softly, “Soon, lovey.” The three of you had planned to do lunch as a family, and Penelope had promised to take Leah for a sleepover so you could go out for dinner—you were nervous, and she was thrilled.

She kicked her feet contentedly, telling Spencer about the cards she had given away at the security desk in a hushed voice while you watched an exchange across the bullpen. Luke was leaning toward Tara, holding his lollipop in his hand, “What flavor did you get?”

Tara peered at him suspiciously. “Blue raspberry,” she replied.

“I’ll trade you a green apple,” he offered, extending his arm out for the swap.

Turning in her chair, Tara scoffed, setting her Valentine on her desk, “Not a chance.”

A small gasp to your side caught your attention. “No trades, Newbie!” Leah shouted from her perch.

Instead of turning on your daughter, Luke immediately pointed at Garcia, “You coached her!”

Penelope feigned offense, holding a hand to her chest and looking around the bullpen, “It is my duty as her godmother to warn her against certain people.”

“Meaning me?”

“If the shoe fits, Newbie,” Penelope replied, leaning against a vacant desk while she awaited Luke’s response.

He looked over at Leah now. “How did she even hear me?”

You shrugged. “She has freakishly good hearing; we’re thinking of having her tested.”

Spencer nudged you at your joke, smiling slightly, “She saw you.”

Sighing in defeat, Luke gave Leah an exaggerated pout, “I’m sorry I tried to make a trade. Can you forgive me?”

Leah nodded with a toothy smile. Luckily, she was three, and things were easy to get over. “Hey, do I get a Valentine?” Spencer asked, playing with the hearts on her headband.  

Humming, she shifted on his lap. “Mommy put all of the pink ones in a baggie for us.”

You flashed a grin back at your husband, pulled a Watermelon lollipop out of your purse, and handed it to him. “I’m very good at what I do.”

[fxstpace]

in the spirit of matrimony

summary: iwaizumi hajime is getting married and you and your ex, oikawa tooru, must pretend you’re still together to avoid ruining his big day. the charade, however, proves to be a lot more complicated than you thought.

⇢ pairing: oikawa tooru x fem!reader ⇢ genres: romance, angst, exes to lovers au, fake dating au ⇢ word count: 3.0k ⇢ warnings: profanity, alcohol consumption ⇢ a/n: reposted from my old blog (@/sokuroo).

Oikawa Tooru is currently using the shower in your hotel room, and you are running late for dinner with Iwaizumi Hajime because of this.

You sit on the plush armchair in the corner of the room, picking at the raised swirls and curlicues embroidered on the cushion. You’re supposed to be meeting with Iwaizumi for dinner in fifteen minutes, but Oikawa seems to be taking his own sweet time getting ready. You can’t say you’re surprised. 

Irritated? Yes.

When he finally bursts out of the bathroom, looking like a Louis Vuitton model, you simply grab your purse and hotel card, and stride out the door without a second glance. Oikawa Tooru isn’t worth your time or energy—for now.

He catches up with you quickly—volleyball legs, and all that—and you can smell his perfume: Cremo spice and black vanilla. You hate the fact that you remember; you’d rather not, but he hasn’t changed the scent in five years and it’s always the little things that are the hardest to forget. In his black button down shirt and with his hair styled carefully with gel, Oikawa definitely looks attractive. He knows it, too, probably, and it gives you a twisted sort of satisfaction knowing that he can’t go about flirting with every person who catches his eye.

He simply cannot, because as far as Iwaizumi Hajime is concerned, you and Oikawa are still together.

“Don’t forget,” you mutter, just low enough that only he can hear you.

“Yeah, yeah.” He waves his hand dismissively before tucking it back into his pocket. “It’s just Hajime. Don’t worry.”

You bite back a sigh. It would do you no good to appear so visibly vexed—and it would cause Hajime to worry unnecessarily, which does a lot more harm to everyone involved. The only thing you want him to be worried about is wedding preparations and becoming a husband in three days. 

Your old friend meets you at the hotel lobby, right before Oikawa furtively slips his hand into yours. Iwaizumi looks tired—his clothes look rumpled and he has dark circles under his eyes—but he still smiles at you and Oikawa in the same way: boyish and crooked. You grin back at him.

“Hey, you two.” Iwaizumi opens his arms and pulls you in for a hug. His stubble brushes against your cheek, and you frown. 

“You’re growing a beard?” you ask incredulously, when you pull away.

He chuckles. “I wish. I need to look handsome on the day of the wedding. Akari thinks it makes me look rugged.” He shrugs and adds, “Personally, I can’t tell the difference.”

“How’s Mrs. Iwaizumi doing?” Oikawa cuts in. He smiles at his best friend, a quick flash of his teeth that you haven’t seen in ages. It almost makes you wish he still smiled at you like that. Almost.

“Akari’s great,” Hajime answers, the edges of his smile turning fond. His fiancé is truly the sweetest, and she’s perfect for Iwaizumi in ways no one else ever could be. It’s difficult to doubt their love, and you consider yourself lucky to have witnessed them falling for each other in college. “Really great, actually. She told me to tell you she’s sorry she couldn’t make it today, but she can’t wait to see you both tomorrow.”

Your ex-boyfriend sighs dramatically. “Iwa-chan. The only entertaining person of the evening is missing. Whatever shall I do?”

“I’m sure your girlfriend will provide ample entertainment, Oikawa,” Hajime deadpans.

Your cheeks flood with heat at the implication. You’re the furthest thing from being Oikawa Tooru’s entertainment tonight, and you don’t need to look at him to know he’s laughing internally at the predicament.

“She’s good at entertaining me with other things,” he retorts, waggling his eyebrows in that infuriating way of his. “Not funny enough, unfortunately.”

You bristle. “Uncalled for, Oikawa.”

He turns to you—the first time he’s looked at you properly since you arrived at the hotel in their hometown—and, taking your hand in his, rubs his thumb along the back of your palm. You nearly shiver; Oikawa used to do that all the time when you were still together, and the small gesture now makes a lump form in your throat. 

“Just kidding, babe,” he says indulgently. “You know I make up for the lack of humour on your part.”

You have to give it to him. Oikawa Tooru is a magnificent actor. 

The way he talks to you, as though both of you hadn’t walked out of the hotel room without saying a word to each other is a feat in itself. He speaks to you as though nothing has changed, as though everything about the way you’re projecting yourselves to your friend is completely natural. You close the hole in your chest where Oikawa used to reside; you will not fall for his little antics—not when he chose to leave you alone.

You roll your eyes, meeting Hajime’s fond—if exasperated—gaze. “Ignore him.”

“I’ve been doing it my entire life,” he responds.

“You are mean and I hate you both,” Oikawa whines. Both of you ignore him.

“Let’s go,” Hajime says. “The izakaya gets really crowded later in the night.”

You wipe your hands on the soft cotton of the oshibori, scanning the menu taped onto the wall. Next to you, Oikawa digs into the otoshi, and in front of you, Hajime sips on his glass of beer. 

“Yakisoba noodles sounds good,” you murmur, “don’t you think?”

“I wan’ the chmmkn kraagh,” Oikawa says immediately through a mouthful of potato salad.

Iwaizumi sighs and translates, “He wants the chicken karaage.”

You scowl. You and Oikawa Tooru can never agree about things. You’re both too stubborn and hot-headed to budge from your opinions, and towards the end of your relationship, the number of petty arguments that were a result of your clashing personalities was high. At one point of time, you might have said that it was one of Oikawa’s qualities that you admired.

Right now, it just irks you to no end.

“We can order both,” you suggest. “Don’t talk with food in your mouth.”

Oikawa rolls his eyes. He makes a show of swallowing, exaggerating the bob of his throat, before he turns to you and states, “I want the chicken karaage, and I know Iwa-chan likes it more than yakisoba noodles.”

“Actually,” Hajime says mildly, “I kind of want the sashimi.”

“Let’s just order all three.” You bring your glass of beer to your lips and take a sip.

Iwaizumi looks curiously between you both. You take another sip of your beer, and you come to the realisation that for an outsider—like Hajime—you and Oikawa look absolutely nothing like a couple.

The fault is yours: You didn’t tell Hajime about your break up with Oikawa, and neither did he. Hajime still thinks you’re together. Neither you nor your ex-boyfriend are tactless enough to tell him that you aren’t dating anymore three days before he’s getting married. Iwaizumi is excited, and you aren’t about to dampen his happiness by telling him his two best friends haven’t spoken to each other in months.

That’s how, for the first time in ages, you and Oikawa Tooru decided that you couldn’t ruin Iwaizumi Hajime’s Big Day, and it was also how Operation: Pretend Like You’re Madly In Love So Your Surprisingly Intuitive Best Friend Doesn’t Feel Bad came about.

You set your beer down again, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. 

“Can I try some of that?” you ask, nudging Oikawa’s shoulder with yours.

He pauses mid-chew, chopsticks held high in the air. “Sure.”

You nudge his shoulder again, a little bit more forcefully this time. Oikawa glares at you. You narrow your eyes at him, trying to send him some sort of telepathic signal. His eyes widen.

“Here, babe,” he says, plastering a grin on his face. He picks up a chunk of the creamy potato salad that was served as the otoshi and holds it up. He uses his thumb and pointer finger to gently bring your face closer to his chopsticks. You fist your fingers, nails cutting crescents into your palms, and accept the mouthful he holds out to you.

“Good?” Oikawa murmurs, his eyes not leaving your face.

You hum. It is good, rich and tart with a touch of sweetness, but for some reason, you can’t bring yourself to verbalise it. Your gaze flits downwards as you gently pull away from his grasp. Your jaw tingles where he held it.

Iwaizumi grins at you—almost knowingly—when you pick up your beer again. He holds a hand up, calling for the waiter to take your orders.

The alcohol washes down the taste of the food, but your heart is about to leap out of your throat.

It is always alcohol that loosens your tongue, and it’s the same for Oikawa Tooru as well. The beer you had at the izakaya lowers the towering walls between you both somewhat. It’s easier to speak to him, now, and after you switch on the lights in the hotel room and kick off your sandals, you whirl around and face Oikawa.

“What the hell was that?” you seethe, glaring at your ex-boyfriend.

He pauses in the middle of taking off his shoes. “What the hell was what?”

“You almost blew our cover! Didn’t you see the way Hajime looked at us?”

Oikawa cocks his head to the side, and his cluelessness only infuriates you even more.

“God, you haven’t changed one bit!” you rant. Your chest heaves with emotion—you’re not sure what emotion, exactly. Anger? Resentment? Foolish hope? Or perhaps a cocktail of all three that causes you to feel nothing but confusion. “Hajime is getting married in two days, and I know you couldn’t care less, but for his sake, can’t you make this whole—whole act more believable?”

“You— What the fuck is that supposed to mean?!” Oikawa’s eyebrows raise upwards incredulously. “You think I don’t care about Iwaizumi’s wedding? I met him before I even knew you existed.” He scoffs. “Of fucking course I care!”

“Then would it kill you to act like you still love me?” You take a step forward, eyes narrowed and index finger pointing at him. “Is that it? Is it so repulsive to pretend like you still have feelings for me, so that your best friend doesn’t worry about us?”

“That’s not it, and you know it,” Oikawa snarls, a frown marring his features. “We should’ve told him as soon as it happened.”

Hearing him refer to your relationship as it feels like a slap to the face. You falter, cursing yourself inwardly.

Of course he doesn’t care for you now. Why would he, after he decided that long-distance relationships were too much effort? I don’t see us working out in the long run, he’d explained over FaceTime. I’m sorry.

Two days later, you declared yourself officially single. You burrowed yourself in piles of work and forgot to tell Iwaizumi Hajime because talking to Hajime would remind you of Oikawa, and you weren’t ready for that yet. Eventually, you just… didn’t tell him.

That’s why it came as an unwelcome surprise to you when you walked into the hotel lobby and found Oikawa Tooru waiting there, with his arms crossed over his chest and his suitcase by his feet. You’re here, he’d said, and you wanted to punch yourself for the way your heart somersaulted in your chest.

You finally find your voice again. “But we didn’t, so would it kill you to just… not be so fucking obvious?”

Oikawa remains stoic, though you suspect he’s just as agitated as you are. “Yes. I don’t want to do this at all.”

Something in you breaks. How easy it is for Oikawa to break your heart. You’d given him the fragile thing, made of glass, and he had knocked it over like it was a house of cards more than once. 

“Fine,” you grit out, bending down and picking up your footwear again. The alcohol buzzing in your head isn’t enough—you need to stop thinking, need to find some way to stop yourself from constantly imagining him. “See if I care.”

You shoulder past him and place your hand on the doorknob.

“Where are you going?”

If you really strained your ears, you could almost hear the imperceptible concern in Oikawa’s voice. You brush it off; he doesn’t have any feelings towards you, as he’s made so amply clear.

“Why do you care?” you retort, before pushing open the door and heading in the direction of the hotel restaurant’s bar.

The room is dark when you open the door.

It’s a little past one in the morning—or so one of the bellhops had said when he kindly escorted you back to your room. Your mind is swirling.

It seems even getting yourself batshit drunk isn’t enough to eradicate all thoughts of Oikawa.

The walls spin. You stumble inside. Your hip bumps against something solid—a table, probably—and you let out a startled yelp. 

Oikawa’s voice is like a balm, soothing your feverish forehead, when he says your name.

How are you supposed to get over him? How are you supposed to go back to living alone when you’ve had this taste of what it could be like, regardless of how authentic it is?

The answer is clear as day: You cannot.

A pair of hands guides you by the shoulders to the bed. Oikawa is careful, gentle with his hold on you. You sprawl on the bed sheets, the fabric cool against your cheek. He appears like an outline in the darkness. 

“Are you okay?”

“God,” you mumble, screwing your eyes shut. “You can’t keep doing this to me, Oikawa.”

He remains silent for a moment, before he clears his throat and says, “You asked me why I care about where you go.”

You don’t say anything.

“I just do,” he continues, “and I don’t know how to explain it. But I do care.”

His fingers are warm when he caresses your cheek. The last thing you do before succumbing to sleep is murmur his name—a curse, but somehow reverent.

When you wake up the next morning, the sheets next to you are rumpled. There is no sign of Oikawa anywhere in the room, but there is a tall glass of water placed on the bedside table.

Through the pounding of your head, you squint at the note written using the hotel stationery placed beside it. 

Drink up. Hajime and Akari are bringing us breakfast.

Breakfast is a lively affair. You’re glad to see Akari again, happy to see the to-be-newlyweds so patently in love with each other.

Oikawa keeps his hand on your thigh, steady and comforting, and offers you golden smiles whenever you catch his eye, and you swallow down the awful lump in your throat.

The day passes by in a blur.

It’s on the day before Iwaizumi’s wedding that Oikawa Tooru kisses you.

Wedding photos are unnecessary, you think. After all, you’re not the one getting married. But Akari had been insistent that you and Oikawa take some pictures together, and you couldn’t refuse her beseeching gaze.

Oikawa, clad in his dapper suit, with his hair styled using copious amounts of hair gel, places his hands on your waist and draws you in. His fingers bunch up the material of your dress. The photographer asks you to place your hands on his chest. His heartbeat is a steady thrum underneath the pads of your fingertips. 

“Is this okay?” he whispers, leaning in. 

You nod.

His mouth tastes like spearmint and the chocolate muffins he’d shared with you at breakfast. 

The afternoon passes by in a daze.

As you walk through the wedding venue, noting all the decorations and the flower arrangements, Oikawa slips his hand into yours. 

“You don’t have to,” you say. “No one’s here to see us.”

“I want to,” he replies simply. He is serious now, not his usual boisterous self, the way he is around Hajime and Akari. “It’s a nice place, no?”

You press your lips together. His words are oddly reminiscent of what he said the night you were drunk. Your stomach twists into knots, but if you don’t ask him the one question that has been nagging at you since then, who will do it for you?

“Tooru,” you say.

He stiffens. It’s the first time you’ve used his first name since you broke up with him.

“Why didn’t you tell Hajime we broke up?” you ask.

His shoulders loosen and his mouth twists upwards in a crooked, sad sort of smile. 

“Because I love you, and breaking up with you broke me in some way.”

Your voice is quiet when you ask, “Why did you?”

“I didn’t want to be the one holding you back,” he says, just as quietly. “I didn’t want you to be constantly worrying about someone who didn’t even live in the same country as you. You deserve someone who will be there for you. Someone you can come home to after work, and talk about your day, and cook dinner together with. I couldn’t give you that.”

You want to hit him and kiss him at the same time. What a stupid, idiotic fool you’re in love with.

“Silly,” you say. “I only want you.”

The wedding happens on a sunny afternoon, and it is beautiful. Akari is radiant, and Hajime tells her that he’s the luckiest man ever. They are in love, and looking at them doesn’t hurt anymore. Your ex-boyfriend turned current boyfriend presses his shoulder against yours and gives you a small, knowing smile when he catches you almost tearing up. You nudge him back, and his smile grows into a grin that envelops his face in gold.

(“You’re the golden one,” he’ll tell you later, pressing feather-light kisses to your collarbones and cheeks. You’ll say he’s wrong.)

Right before the crowd disperses, Oikawa takes your hand and brings it to his lips. He presses a soft kiss against the knuckle of your ring finger.

Later, he whispers to you that it’s all in the spirit of matrimony.

Oikawa Tooru is using the shower in your bedroom, and he’s running late to catch his flight back to Argentina, and everything is perfect.

[ladymarvel27]

So Skeptical | Carlos Sainz

Carlos Sainz x Reader

Description: He is suspecting you fell out of love for him.

Word count: 800+

f1 masterlist

He was noticing you were distancing yourself from him since the last race. You always looked busy. Not like in real busy but fake busy, as if trying to avoid him. Another thing that bothered him was that you were talking to Charles, even more than you were talking to him.

His heart sank seeing you rapidly texting someone discreetly on Saturday morning before the quali.

“Hey princess,” he appeared in front of you. You immediately shut your phone, shoving it in your pocket, and he felt his heart break a little.

“Hey, Carlos. Ready for the quali?” He could see your made-up smile.

“Yeah,” he nods, bringing up a smile covering up his little heartbreak. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him down to press a kiss on his cheek. “Good luck honey,” you say. He pulls you into his arms and you giggle against his chest, feeling warm and lovely. You were so perfect, the thing he has and he feels for you is so beautiful. He keeps wondering how could you do this to him, as his grip around you tightens. Maybe he is just overthinking? It was only frantic texting, fishing some information for your new venture. He found it so endearing how you were so passionate about your profession. You were so lovely, so adorable. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing you. He felt the urge to pick you and spun you around and kiss your pretty lips passionately and tell you how much he- “Carlos?” He is snapped of his thoughts by your voice. He pulls away and looks at you. “Are you fine?”

“HUH?”

“You are crying?” He didn’t even realise tears streaming down his face. You wiped it away. “Yeah just,” he trails off and you raise your eyebrows, making him continue, “I am glad that I have a girl like you in my life.”

“Me too. I love you my-” You were interrupted by his engineer calling him. “I should leave, huh?”

“Yeah, go smash in the quali!” You say with excitement.

As soon as he got free from the parce ferme, he ran to talk to you. He needed to. He was so tense during the quali that he couldn’t focus at all and ended it in heavy disappointment. “Y/N!” He sprinted to you, out of breath.

“Hey, Carlos,” you immediately hugged his sweaty body tightly, “You did so good. I am so proud.” He was confused as hell and scrunched his nose. “It was just P5.” He replied to your compliment.

“But you couldn’t even make it to Q3 in last race.” He felt bad when you spoke it out. “You improved Carlos!” You smiled brightly and shook him by his shoulders. “Yeah,” he chuckles lightly.

“Y/n,” he rubs your shoulders, “can we-”

“Carlos the media pen is starting,” his PR interrupts.

“Carlos. I am tired. I think this gonna take time, so I am returning to the hotel.”

“Oh yeah, you should. Bye. See you in the evening!”

As soon as he finished up all his daywork, he rushed to leave immediately to see you. He glanced at his wristwatch. 11:55 p.m. It’s too late. You would have fallen asleep. Gosh! He felt like time was slipping from his hand as sand. He feels something is wrong. Maybe you’re not doing but there is something. Maybe you just fell out of love? And it’s all your disinterest surfacing up but he isn’t catching. He rushed to the door and immediately placed the key card. The door buzzed open. The lights were off. He turned on the lights. You were nowhere to be seen. His heart sank. He slowly made his way past the room to the lobby area.

As soon as he turned on the lights, several voices shouted, “Happy Birthday!” You were standing between everyone, holding a small cake with a lit 30th candle. You went forward to him and brought it in front of him. He smiled brightly seeing the cake: with a customized picture of him from last year when he took pole in Monza. He was suspecting and overthinking so much, he forgot he had his birthday coming up. And how this could be the reason for it.

“Happy birthday, my bear.” He grinned with all his teeth out. “The cake Carlos, we got it specially for you,” Charles shouts from behind. He nods and blows the candles, his grin being a constant presence on his face. Everyone starts singing for him. “This the prettiest birthday cake I have ever got,” he spoke, “but we have to cut it, right?”

You chuckled at him. “Of course, you have to, Carlitos,” you wink. He laughs and cuts the cake, his heart swelling with the warmth and love he feels for you. You press a kiss on his cheek, making his grin wider.

A/n: Yeah, this is a birthday special, I wrote in just few hours. Thanks to my sister for proofreading.

Taglist: @faithshouseofchaos @itsjustvs4

[seros-girl]

his girl

tenya iida x f!reader pt. 2 to this

its been about a month since you last slept with iida and since the confession. you decided to ignore it altogether and act like nothing happened.

other classmates find it not so hard to forget (izuku). you hang around the group still as if iida never had your boob in his mouth in the first place.

everything’s good, everything’s fine.

but here you are, shifting uncomfortably in your seat. izuku proposed a night out of the dorms and you all had agreed.

with aizawa’s permission, you were able to leave, the curfew being no later than nine. you swirled the straw in your drink, your gaze fixed on the table.

you avert your eyes and your eyes land on izuku’s scars. you look up at him as he’s talking, about what? you dont know you tuned everything out a while ago.

its honestly very awkward. iida clears his throat at a question izuku asks him. “yes mei hatsume” he says blushing slightly.

“the girl from the support course?” momo questions looking at todoroki. your eyes glance up as izuku beams at iida, grabbing his shoulder and shaking him.

“are you guys talking? situationship? dont do those it was hell for me and ‘chako! a date?” he rambles on, typical midoriya.

“calm down midoryia” shoto calmly says as the green haired boy removes his hands off of iida’s shoulder, still smiling.

“im taking her out next friday” iida says fixing his glasses. you look at him and he looks at you. “thats great tenya!” momo claps her hands together, excited.

“way to go class prez” izuku says and smiles at ochako. the whole table gets excited and you sit there , faking a smile.

“thats good tenya” you finally speak up he nods at you. izuku clears his throat claiming its time to go. you pull out your car keys as shoto pays the bill (with his dads card) and you all walk out to your car.

shoto sits up front with you while the rest pile in the back. you sigh out as you turn on the car and wait for everyone to have their seatbelts on.

you look at shoto and smile softly. he gives you a small one back, reassuring you that’s it’s going to be okay. you shift the car into drive and pull out of the spot and back to the UA dorms.

💥💥💥💥

youre sitting in the kitchen the next morning, lazily eating your cereal (bakugo’s). youre scrolling through your phone when your favorite people walk in.

“morning y/n!” kirishima announces as you turn around to see the “bakusquad”. “hey morning!” you said to all of them as mina pulls you into a hug.

bakugo glances into your bowl and then looks at you. “you running low on groceries?” he asks you, moving to the fridge to grab a water.

“something like that” you muttered, embarrassed. “trip to the grocery store then?” he mutters to you, leaning against the counter.

you nodded and finished up the rest if it. “get dressed” he said, taking the bowl and washing it for you. you get up, he doesnt have to tell you twice!

once youre dressed, you grab your purse and walk out back into the lobby where bakugo is waiting on you.

“good morning kacchan!” izuku says waving at bakugo. behind trails your friends big smiles on their faces as you all exchange good mornings.

“where are you guys headed?” ochako asks eyeying your bag and bakugo’s wallet. she winks at you and you blush.

“grocery shopping. i ran out of some things a while ago” you admitted and shoto’s eyes light up. “can you get me more soba actually” he says and digs into his pocket pulling out his dads card.

“put that away, we got it covered” bakugo waves it off and shoto gives a grateful nod and a small thank you. “you all need anything?” bakugo asks arm wrapping around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him.

you blush and look up at bakugo. he stares ahead at your friends as they list some things they need. “can you get me more orange juice while youre out please?” iida speaks up last and you eye him.

“sure” bakugo replies calmly and smirks down at you. “we’ll be back. get ready to help us unload once we get back” bakugo says guiding you towards the main door and to the third year parking lots.

“spill” he says as he unlocks his car and opens the passenger door for you. you get in and sigh looking at bakugo. “get in” you nod towards the driver side and he closes the door.

he gets in and closes the door, but doesnt start the engine. “he’s taking mei hatsume on a date” you blurt out and sigh. he looks at you with sympathetic eyes.

“come on iida’s not all that” he starts and you nod. “yea i mean its not like he comes from a family of heroes or that he’s got an incredible quirk and personality-“

“okay he may be all that” bakugo cuts you off and you laugh. “im okay” you said smiling at him. “you sure sweets?” he asks you.

“its okay to not be okay” he shrugs and you turn to look at him. “since when were you so empathetic” you gush playfully, giggling. “since i died 2 years ago” he plays around with you.

“shut up” you said this now turning serious. “i never actually got the chance to talk about what happened 2 years ago” you start after a minute of silence.

“i watched you die” your eyes filled with tears.

“its still somehow ingrained in my mind, it haunts me” a tear slips out as you wipe it frustrated. he sighs and pulls you into a hug over the center console of the car.

“im okay. im here and im okay” he whispers to you stroking your hair softly. “i wont joke about that again, im sorry” he apologizes.

you sniffle and pull away. “lets go” you whisper looking at him. his eyes flicker down to your lips for a brief moment, you caught him.

he pulls away and starts the car, telling you to buckle up.

💥💥💥💥

“bakugo-“ you start but he cuts you off.

“katsuki” he says pushing the cart and stopping to look at a brand of ramen. “huh?” you looked up at him confused. you study his face, your gaze lingers on the scar on his face.

“call me katsuki” he shrugs adding a pack of ramen into the cart and pushing slowly towards the soba section, grabbing the ones shoto likes.

“okay is that it?” bakugo asks you as you were in charge of the list.

“missing iida’s orange juice” you mumbled loudly enough for him to hear it. you begin walking towards that section but he stops you.

“were not getting it” he says and walks to checkout. “why not?” you asked looking up at him as he begins placing things on the conveyor belt.

“he rejected you mid fuck and doesnt have the decency to talk to you about it after” he says shaking his head.

“shitty thing to do” he mutters as you start helping him put things down. “you deserve better” he finishes and looks down at you.

“we’ll say we forgot it deal?” he asks you and you nod. “deal kats” you smile up at him. “thank you” you nudge him as the lady starts scanning the items.

“dont mention it” he winks at you. you pull your wallet out to pay for the items and he swats your hand away gently.

“put that away” he mumbles to you and hands his card to the lady. “you guys are a beautiful couple” the old lady gushes at the both of you as she charges bakugo’s card.

“oh were not-“ “thank you!” bakugo beams as the lady hands him his card back. the guy bagging your items places the last bag in the cart and bids you guys a farewell, wishing you a good rest of your day.

you push the cart as bakugo stands behind you, hands on your lower back guiding you out of the store. he starts laughing as you punch his chest.

“why would you say that?!” you start laughing too as you push the cart towards bakugo’s car. he unlocks it and opens the trunk.

“gotta have a little fun no?” he shrugs helping you load up the groceries. “youre insane” you giggle as you put the last bag in.

“can i drive?” you ask him as he pulls the trunk down, your view of him being his big bicep. “huh?” he asks looking down at you as a cart boy grabbed the cart for you guys to put it away.

bakugo thanks him and turns back to you. “can i drive us back?” you ask again standing on your tip toes and coming back down.

“lemme see the license first” he pushes and you roll your eyes. “you’ve seen it a million times come on! im not denki” you protested and he laughs softly.

he places the keys to his car in the palm of your hand. “okay” he whispers quietly to you. “wait just like that?” you said confused looking at his keys.

“mhm” he starts and you know it has to come with doing something in return. “dont worry about what it is though” he says moving to the drivers side and opening the door for you.

you get in and he quickly makes his way to other side getting in. “katsuki how do you drive this!” you exclaim and fix the seat where you reach the pedals and can see the hood of the car.

“maybe because im way bigger than you” he says as he buckles up and rests his hand on the center console.

you squirm in the seat excited and put the car in reverse to back out of the spot. “im loving this already” you said shifting it into drive and pulling away from the parking lot.

bakugo admiring you the whole time, smiling.

“we are back!!” you announced with two bags of groceries. bakugo comes in with a whopping six and places them on the counter. “theres 5 more help” he says to the boys and they get up immediately.

as izuku, kirishima, shoto, and sero help bakugo take the last of the bags in, your scar on your neck itches. you scratch at it as your friends pile into the kitchen to grab their things.

bakugo throws the soba towards shoto and he catches them. “thank you” he bows to the both of you as you wave it off and unload your groceries putting them away.

“dont scratch it” bakugo mutters softly to you, stopping you and putting his hands on your neck softly. he tilts your head up to get a good view of your scar.

“i’ve got some ointment if you want some okay” he says tilting your head back to be at eye level with him. “okay” you said putting one of your hands on his forearm. he lets go and throws sero the healthy chips he wanted.

“thanks bakugo, y/n” he says walking off with hagakure as she clutches her bag of wax candies she’s been wanting to try.

“holy shit” you start pretending as every one of your classmates received their designated groceries, apart from iida.

“what?” bakugo looks down at you. “im so sorry tenya we forgot your orange juice” you looked up at iida as he waves it off.

“nonsense its okay, do not apologize” he chops the air and now you feel really bad. “i have enough to last me throughout the rest of this week but thank you for being so generous in wanting to help me” he bows down to you both and you nod.

you look at bakugo and you can tell he feels bad, somewhat. “excuse me” iida says walking out of the kitchen.

“i feel bad, kats” you muttered as you looked up at him, instinctively getting closer to him. “me too sweets im not gonna lie” he mumbles to you, leaning against the counter, trapping you in.

“check to see if he likes it with pulp and we’ll grab some” he nods his head to the fridge and he lets you go check.

“no pulp, lets go” you said giggling and grabbing katsuki’s hand as he grabs your purse from off the counter.

“we’ll be back!” you called out to your classmates as you dragged bakugo out, not waiting for anyone’s response.

“but you guys just got back!” izuku calls out but its too late.

“theyre so adorable” sero smiles snacking on his chips and turns to look at hagakure, continuing their conversation.

💥💥💥💥

katsuki drives the both of you around once you secured iida’s orange juice. he parks the car and turns it off.

he sighs out looking at you. “hey” you said softly as he smiles at you. “hi” he says back in the same tone you had.

you blush slightly looking out the window. you’ve grown even closer to katsuki, if that was even possible, since iida’s rejection towards you.

its made you realize something. that you find bakugo attractive. that you may be feeling romantic feelings for him.

it feels wrong considering you JUST got rejected by iida big time. but it also shouldnt because its not like you guys were together. he doesnt reciprocate those feelings and thats that!

you look at katsuki again, smiling. “what’s on your mind?” he asks you resting his chin on his hand as he stares.

“you” you reply confidently and he looks surprised. “confident now are we” he teases and you shrug. “i was gonna give you time to heal from this whole class prez debacle” he admits and you tilt your head confused.

“what do you mean?” you ask confused and he rolls his eyes. “i like you dumbass” he says hiding the huge smile threatening to display on his face.

“oh- oh… oh!” you said as you try to take in what he just said. “you heard me” he smirks now leaning in closer.

“i just want confirmation from you that somewhere in your heart, im there” he whispers to you his face centimeters apart from yours.

you lean in and give him a small kiss, taking him by surprise. “is that confirmation?” you asked sweetly and he hums.

his hands reach for your waist and pulls you to straddle him. “more than enough” he says cupping your face and going back in to kiss you, this time more passionately.

he pulls away, forehead resting against yours. “i wanna take you out first but” he says as he looks up at you.

“promise me you’ll be my girl?” he holds his pinky out. “aw is katsuki bakugo doing a pinky promise right now” you tease, laughing at his reaction.

“yes im doing a pinky promise” he says still holding his pinky up, waiting for you to link it.

you linked your small, dainty perfectly manicured pink with his big pinky. you leaned in to kiss him to seal the promise and he hums against yours lips.

“hey this is your first time kissing a girl!” you exclaim when you pull away and he huffs. “yes and what about it” he looks at you, smiling softly you almost missed it.

“im honored” you saluted playfully. “damn right you should be” he pulls you closer and kisses you again. “wanna head back?” he says in between kisses.

“oh my gosh. is the katsuki bakugo gonna fuck me? and he’s asking nicely” you tease knowing that isnt what he meant at all, you just wanna rile him up.

“to deliver iida’s orange juice dumbass” he flicks your forehead and places one more kiss on your lips and you move back to the passenger seat, hands linked.

he kisses your hand and you blush.

youre his girl, not officially, but youre his girl.

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

[9:16 am]

(cw: course language)

Dating Jeno was like a dream. You knew it was early, 2 months to be exact, but you were fairly certain he was the best man ever. He was sweet, thoughtful, he listened, he was funny, and he was handsome. He took you on dates that you could tell he put effort into, he gave you gifts just because he was “thinking about you,” and got you flowers weekly. What wasn’t to like about him?

You had just seen him the night before, he had invited you over to his so he could cook for you. His excuse was that he’d been wanting to try out a recipe, but it was too much for one person. He’d listened to you talk all night about your annoying boss and how she went on and on about anything under the sun. She made it impossible to make or take calls with her roaming the floor and talking. She tried too hard to be friends with her employees.

He had had glimpses of her before when he came by to pick you up for lunch or picked you up from work. She was always the first one to the door, twirling her hair and batting her lashes. She tried flirting and didn’t even try to hide her frown when he greeted you with a kiss on the cheek.

“And I saw that little boy toy of yours yesterday! He was out and about during lunch yesterday and we had lunch together! You’re not mad right? According to what I’ve heard he’s not your boyfriend yet…” you heard her annoying voice, but she wasn’t talking to you, right?

You turned in your desk chair, “are you talking to me?”

“Yes! Jeno, your little boy toy! He’s a real cutie, a real gentleman. I can totally see what’s so attractive about him. We sat and talked together and got carried away. I was almost late,” she laughs.

You give her a fake laugh, claiming you have work to get back to while turning to face the computer screen. Instead of working, you mull over her words. On one hand yes, you and Jeno weren’t official or exclusive in the fact that you hadn’t discussed it, but you had assumed you were. There was also the fact that when you asked him about his lunch he had been very short and moved on as if it were nothing.

Had there been signs that you missed before? Were there moments that they shared when you weren’t around? Were there hidden moments? God, this was putting you in a downward spiral.

She was still stood near you when you heard an unfamiliar male voice. “Uhhhh, flowers from Jeno?” He asked.

As you moved to identify yourself, your boss squealed, reaching for the flowers. She pulled the card from bouquet and began to read out loud, “I had the greatest time seeing you yesterday. I can’t wait to spend more time with you. Love, Jeno. He’s so sweet! So sorry you had to find out this way, but I need to go put these in some light. Get back to work.”

The rest of your day was awful. Maybe he had sent those to her. Maybe he liked her more than you. Maybe he was two-timing you.

From there your anger grew and grew. Her voice was like nails on a chalkboard. His texts made your anger boil and bubble inside you to the point where once you saw him standing alone in the lobby of your workplace you walked right past him.

“Hey! Wait- hey, where are you going?” You heard Jeno’s voice as he followed after you.

You turned, your voice cold while your emotions were heated, “if you liked my boss you could have just said that instead of stringing me along. I know we never talked about being closed off, but at the very least I deserved to know you were seeing another person inside my office!”

He held his hands up, as if in surrender, “I don’t- I’m not seeing anyone but you. Can we talk about this?”

You groaned, running a had over your hair in frustration. You exhaled, calming your feelings, “my boss came in this morning and told me that you guys had lunch together. That you were such a gentleman and she totally gets what I see in you and that you spent the whole lunch talking and getting to know each other.” Your voice breaks as you keep explaining, “and then flowers were delivered that said you enjoyed your time with her yesterday. It’s just- I wish you had just told me.” You loon away from him as your eyes fill with tears and you desperately try to blink them back.

Jeno gives you your time to breathe and cool off before he speaks. “Babe, I didn’t get lunch with your boss. I happened to be at the same spot for lunch to pick up my order and while I was leaving she walked in. We did that whole awkward stepping the same way over and over again, and I greeted her just to be polite. I asked her how she was, but I didn’t have lunch with her. I don’t like her, she makes me feel weird and gross when she talks to me and I think she’s the same age as my mom, that or she has really bad work done.” You laugh at that and he smiles explaining even more, “the flowers were for you, babe. I have the receipt, it has your name on it as the recipient. They were supposed to be your weekly bouquet and that’s why the note says what it said. I don’t want to spend time getting to know anyone but you.”

“God, I hate that bitch. I’m sorry I assumed,” you exhale deeply, feeling an immense weight off your shoulders.

He pulls you into his chest for a hug, rubbing a hand up and down your back, “it was an unfortunate mess of coincidences mixed with delusion from your crazy ass boss. It’s the last time I’ll use a delivery service too, all your flowers are coming right from me.”

“You still want me after I made that horrible assumption?” You ask with a playful tone, but the nerves in your stomach have yet to calm down.

Jeno smirks, tsking nonchalantly, “if anything, I want you more. Something about you getting jealous, a little possessive, that’s hot.”

You shove him lightly, leaving him behind as you begin walking home again. You can hear him laughing and his steps as he runs to catch up to you. His arm wraps around your shoulders and he presses a kiss to your temple while you both dodge the other people trying to get home. He takes your bag off your shoulder and smiles at you warmly, “I didn’t think we really had to talk about it, but in all seriousness I do like you a lot. I don’t want to see anyone but you.”

“I like you a lot too,” you smile back, “so what? You’re like my boyfriend now?”

“Nothing would make me happier, and you should report your boss to HR. She’s a total bitch.”

[teewritessmth]

Love and Deepspace men playing Among us

Warnings : None

Summary : How would they play a fun little killing game :3

CONSISTENT POSTS??? WHO DO I THINK I AMMM??!???!!??

Xavier

- protects the other crewmates when he dies. Honestly, the only person here who takes the role of the guardian angel seriously. The others just AFK when they die :/

- surprisingly (or maybe not) quite a good impostor (he makes people believe otherwise with his cute little face). Server would go crazy if they lost to him.

- sadly, he dies in electrical all the time. He has died in electrical 80% of the crewmate games he has played. Going forward, he just doesn't bother going there anymore.

- once again, the only person here who plays the games better when they are dead. He thinks it's nice how he can just glide throughout the map, he can quickly finish his wire tasks now.

Zayne

- completes all his tasks within minutes. He will then run across the whole map to find a body to report or to find someone venting. Else, that man will most probably chill in security.

- he is usually the first person to know who the imposter is just by the slight movements in their character. Whether they are taking a download, or taking too long during card swipe (ahem, Rafayel)

- however, when he is the imposter, one hell of a strategic game will be played. Get ready for brains vs brawls. Good luck if you even think about winning.

- kicks everyone out so he can play with MC. Strangers are okay, the other guys sure aren't. (He wants to wear matching clothes with you in the game)

Rafayel

- even though he is chronically online, he is not good at the game. I'm talking HORRIBLE.

- fails in card swipe all the time and is accused by zayne for faking tasks. Hence whe everyone runs to admin at the start, this guy runs to medbay to get his scans done.

- definitely has all the cosmicubes and outfits. Even all the premium pets. Dresses up every single game in a new costume and forces everyone to match the theme. Has mixed up among us with dress to impress.

- he is sadly, always the first one to be voted out. Spends the rest of his time following MC around as a ghost and cursing the imposter when she dies and joins him in the ghost life.

Sylus

- if you play a game, more than half the time this guy is the CONFIRMED imposter.

- kills in front of other crewmates, does not care. Reports the body immediately and blames it on someone else.

- manipulates the lobby into voting for a crewmate and conducts a double kill wth Zayne on the next round, winning the whole game.

- always votes Xavier, no matter his role. He believes that no good can come from the blonde man and his antics.

- has all 4 maps memorized like the back of his hand. He always knows when and where to hide.

- has to have Mephisto as his pet in the game.

Caleb

- task doer 2.0

- he always gets the easiest tasks and is usually done within 5 minutes. The remainder of the game is spent AFKing in the cafeteria or navigation.

- spams the emergency button for no reason, just to throw accusations at people, gets voted out instead.

- when imposter, sabotages the server like a MOTHERFUCKER. He will trap you with a crewmate just to see chaos unfold.

-somehow manages to hack the server and make it lag

- always has the WEIRDEST names in the game

[baocean]

the manchester’s

spy!rafe cameron x spy!reader

your partner rafe cameron and you were on a mission for one reason, and one reason only. to take out the target. on this mission, your aliases were husband and wife, playing house for the whole night. who knew that could bring out so many truths?

warnings - violence, smoking, drinking, smut, swearing, murder ermmm

the apartment you’d been staked out in was muggy, dark, and gross.

you’d been sitting there for almost the entire day, just waiting.

you’d set up a long range camera, taking over a poor college student’s apartment, posted across the street at the hotel your target was supposed to be staying in that night.

your target was markus phelps, some middle aged man apart of a terrorist group that assassinated a foreign leader almost a year ago. he had been untraceable until agent williams found him five months ago. it was only supposed to be a capture mission. then, phelps killed her too. now, you were here for blood. you, and your partner rafe cameron. two of the best agents the CIA has to offer.

it was only speculation that phelps was attending this gala, ball type event at this hotel tonight. but, the CIA got wind of it, and you didn’t have anything going on tonight, anyway.

“anything?” rafe asked, twiddling a pen in his hand, sitting in a chair in the corner of the small apartment.

“not yet, there’s security posted out front, though. i think he’s close,” you responded, slouching back, “take over for me, please? my back is killing me.”

rafe rolled his eyes, he smiled and nodded anyway. when he stood up, you had to crane your neck to stare at him. he was almost a foot taller than you, but you used being only five or so inches over five foot to your advantage. no one expects a girl who fits right into the crowd to shoot them in the back of the head.

rafe switched places with you, getting comfy in a sniper position. he’d been an army ranger sniper for almost six years, it was probably a second nature to get his body as low as possible.

you slumped back in his old seat, letting your body relax into its cheap material.

“oh, you’re just gonna love this.” rafe started chuckling, and your content smile dropped.

“are you fucking serious?” you asked, huddling over to the window as you watched markus phelps cockily strut into the hotel lobby.

“let boss man know, and tell him i saw him.” rafe looked up at you, giving an infamous smirk, then started to pack up the gear.

you rolled your eyes, not even three years of working side by side dulled how smug rafe was. pulling out your phone, you dialed your boss’ number, the dial only ringing once.

“blake, he’s here.” you spoke into the phone, catching sight of rafe’s head tipping to the side. you made a face at him. “cameron spotted him.”

“good, you know what to do. get it done, agent.” griffin blake’s voice was gruff, powerful, steady. “you two have got a reservation under manchester.” that was all, then, he hung up on you.

“alright, let’s do this.” you shoved your phone back into your pocket, shrugging your shoulders with a smile. rafe grabbed the hard cases full of fancy cameras and guns, then his personal duffle carrying everything else, and headed to the door.

he’d always been sweet like that, only letting you carry your black duffle bag filled with whatever precautious outfits you needed for that mission, never the heavy stuff.

you two walked across the street and into the fancy hotel, glass chandeliers and butlers waiting to open the doors for you. walking up to reception, rafe threw an arm around you.

“hi there, we have a reservation for manchester.” rafe offered the employee behind the desk, offering her a warm, fake smile.

you gave her one as well, reaching your hand up to fumble with rafe’s, the one hanging off your shoulder.

“welcome to the plaza, mr. and mrs. manchester. we’re excited to have you.”

she handed you key cards, offered valet, then sent you on your way with an award winning smile.

“she was cute.” rafe mumbled in your ear, earning a elbow to the gut.

“that’s not very husband like.” you chuckled, swinging with him as you headed to the elevators.

“speaking of, we need rings.” rafe held his hand up, waving his fingers.

“make sure mine is pretty.” you said, watched as the elevator doors closed, then detached from him.

“pretty ring for a pretty lady, got it.” rafe pulled out his phone, typing a few times.

“laney says it’s all in the room. dress, suit, everything.” he said as the doors of the elevator opened.

it was true, when you walked into the hotel room, you saw the beautiful red dress and black suit hanging on the door frame of the closet. necklaces, earrings, and wedding bands were sitting on the dresser.

“two hours ‘till the party. you wanna shower first?” rafe dropped his cases on the bed, turning to you. you were already closing the bathroom door, making rafe chuckle.

twenty minutes later, you were out of the shower and in the complimentary hotel robe, staring at yourself in the mirror as you blow dried your hair.

rafe’s head peaked out from behind the shower curtain and you saw the shampoo you used earlier in his hair, made you laugh.

“so how do we wanna do this?” he asked. you shrugged. “we could pull the ‘my husband doesn’t have to know’ card. and i’m sitting here waiting for him when you get back here.”

you turned to him, groaning. “why does it always have to be me?”

“i know i’m gorgeous, honey, but i don’t think phelps swings that way.” rafe grinned at you, you tilted your head in annoyance.

“fine.” was all you said, turning around and putting down the hair dryer, then plugging in the curling iron.

“hey, throw me a towel, wife?” rafe called from behind the shower curtain as the water turned off, and you pushed your hand behind the curtain, him grabbing the white towel from you.

he stepped out of the bath, towel hung low around his waist. “should i shave?” he leaned over the counter, hands running over his jaw.

he truly was gorgeous, in every way. it wasn’t something you were denying. there’d been several times where you’d think ‘one time won’t hurt anyone’, but you couldn’t possibly risk it, right?

“no, like you better that way.” you clipped your hair up, started curling your hair. rafe looked at you through the mirror, shamelessly admiring you.

he left you in the bathroom, taking time through his routine, then pulling on his suit

you’d taken almost an hour to get ready, perfectly crafting your makeup, then forcing rafe to zip your dress.

“okay, so i’m noah. you’re scarlett.” rafe looked over the packet as you strapped the beretta nato micro to your upper thigh.

“scarlett? seriously?” you laughed, pulling your dress back down into position. it was a dark red color, perfectly suiting your skin tone.

“feels like they’re running out of ideas. remember when i was james ford? that was the best one, yet.” rafe grinned, grabbing his glock and pushing it into his holster.

you nodded, laughing, fixing last minute touches before grabbing the ring on the dresser and slipping it on. rafe’s eyes watched the motion, leaning to grab his ring as well.

“we’re so domestic. the manchester’s, ladies and gentlemen.” rafe laughed, throwing an arm around you as you walked out of your hotel room.

the lobby was filled with people in fancy get ups and holding champagne flutes. the two of you followed them to the ball room, the sound of jazz music slowly rising.

it was easy to spot phelps, the guy was dressed in a bright orange blazer. you rolled your eyes.

“look at that idiot. can’t wait to kill him.” rafe leaned in, mumbling in your ear before placing a quick kiss on your cheek.

you giggled, the two of you separating to mingle with the other guests, rafe leaving you with a, “see you later, mrs. manchester.”

it was too easy, because you caught phelps attention almost immediately. you kept finding him staring at you, looking at you up and down.

it’d been an hour of talking to the wives of powerful men, sharing secret glances with rafe, checking in on each other, and watching phelps practically eye fuck you.

you were mid conversation with two women, listening along to their inappropriate jokes about the hot man with no woman on his arm.

“who are you talking about?” you inquired, searching around the room for who they could possibly be reviewing.

“him.” one girl pointed a perfectly manicured finger over your right shoulder, and you turned to see rafe. you groaned, of course.

he was walking right for you, smiling at you like you were the light of his life.

“hi ladies, noah manchester. don’t mind if i steal my beautiful wife away from you for a moment, do ya?” rafe tucked an arm on your waist, leaving the women you were standing with absolutely speechless.

“bye, girls.” you smiled politely, turning away with rafe.

you walked out of the ballroom, sharing one single glance with phelps. tucking into an empty coat closet, rafe slotted you between the wall and him.

“we are so in. have you seen the way he’s looking at you?” rafe shaking his head, laughing.

“i know, unbelievable.” you laughed, tucking your hair behind your ear. rafe’s eyes shot up to watch.

“try to bring him up to the room within the hour,” he looked down at his watch, “i’ll go up right now, give me like ten minutes, then go talk to him. i’ll be waiting there.”

you nodded, going to say something when the coat closet’s door knob started to jiggle.

“shit, uh,” rafe trailed off, pulling you in by your neck and kissing you. you didn’t have time to process it before the door opened and you were being yelled at.

rafe pulled away from you, some of your lipstick stuck onto his lips. he looked at the guy yelling at you two, smirking. “what, i can’t kiss my wife?”

“get out of here, you two.” the guy barked, rafe turning back to you and giving you another chaste kiss before stepping past the guy, pulling you out with him.

he nodded at you once, then headed towards the elevators.

you stood there shocked for a few beats, before shaking it off. you went back into the ballroom, smiling at some people.

you sat down at the bar, ordering a drink and patiently waiting.

it was only five or so minutes when phelps slotted in next to you, reaking of smelly cologne and cigarettes.

“hi, gorgeous.” he spoke, all grainy and brittle. you turned to him, giving him a smile.

“hi.”

“i’m markus phelps.” he stuck a hand out to shake yours.

“scarlett, nice to meet you.” you fluttered your eyelids, worked your charm. phelps looked down, clocking your ring when you met his hand.

“ah, you’re married.” phelps nodded his head, testing you.

“we’re getting a divorce.” you shrugged. phelps seemed to like that answer, because he leaned in closer.

fifteen minutes later, you were letting phelps feel you up in the elevator, waist up of course, given you had a gun strapped to your thigh.

you led him to your room, hand in hand, heart beating out of your chest in excitement. the CIA has been waiting for this moment for five months, and tonight was the night.

you unlocked the door, pushing phelps into the dark room with an excessive amount of force.

kissing him, you pulled him to the bed, letting him from you and fall back onto it.

“hey markus,” rafe turned on the lamp, sitting on the chair in the corner of the room, a glock 43 shifting around in his right hand, “how’re you doing?”

“oh, what the fuck is this?” phelps shot up as you backed away from him, leaning on the dresser.

“what do you think it is, dumbass?” you scrunched your face.

“let me tell you, phelps. you made it pretty fucking easy for us.” rafe chuckled, standing up to come and stand next to you. “trust me man, i know she’s stunning, but didn’t your mother teach you anything about strangers?”

phelps looked scared shitless, giving you a satisfactory tingle in your chest.

you turned to rafe, “pretty smart move kissing me earlier, by the way.”

“thanks, been wanting to do that forever.” he smirked, never looking away from phelps.

“who are you? who are you with?” phelps shook, not daring to stand up from the bed.

you contemplated, shrugging your shoulders. “i guess we could tell him, he’s not leaving this hotel room unless it’s in a body bag.”

“CIA. you remember that agent you killed five months ago?” rafe asked, staring down at his gun as he raised it.

phelps couldn’t speak, a guilty, evil look painting his greasy features.

“this is for her.” rafe pulled the trigger, the silencer making a ‘pop’ sound ring through the hotel room.

rafe sighed, watching phelp’s body go limp on the hotel bed.

“call the boss man.” he shrugged, looking at you before releasing the magazine from the gun and into his hand, turning away from you.

only two or three hours later, rafe and you were in the private jet sending you back to headquarters in virginia.

he was staring out the window, hand holding his chin up. after the first odd year or so, you realized rafe always needed some time to think after he killed someone.

he’d been silent for almost half an hour before you spoke.

“did you really mean what you said back there? that you’ve wanted to kiss me forever?” you asked him, he turned to you, sighing.

“yeah.” he shrugged, his lips tipping up into something almost a smile.

you hummed, not exactly sure what to say. if it had been a target, you would know. but these were real feelings, and your partner you were dealing with.

“i can’t tell what you’re thinking. incredible poker face, by the way.” rafe chucked awkwardly.

“well, seven years of socom will do that to you.” you tipped your head in a smile.

straight out of high school, just like rafe, you joined the military. only difference was, you went to special operations command and rafe went to sniper school.

after seven years, you were done, but socom had trained you well.

“right. always forget you’re an operator.” rafe nodded, looking at the floor between you two.

“i’m thinking that this would be a little too complicated to kiss for real.” you sighed, leaning your head back and closing your eyes.

“one time wouldn’t hurt anyone.” rafe shrugged, looking out the window, then peaking a glance at you to size your reaction.

your eyes popped open, shocked in what he had just said. then, you started laughing. “i always say that.”

“about us?” rafe smirked, leaning back. you nodded, rolling your eyes and smiling.

the two of you stared at each other, both of you daring the other that would lead to a conversation about you two.

“i’ll be right back.” you mumbled, standing up and heading to the back of the plane. you locked yourself in the bathroom, playing with your hair.

making yourself busy, all so you could catch your breath, you washed your hands, checked your clothes.

when you opened the door, rafe was standing there, leaning on the wall.

you just looked at each other for a second, watching as his eyes flickered down to your lips, then back up to your eyes, then back down to your lips.

“one time won’t hurt?” rafe muttered. your breath hitched, rafe noticing the action.

“one time won’t hurt.” you said barely above a whisper, pulling him by his t-shirt into the small bathroom.

your lips connected, and you were finally able to enjoy the kiss, memorize it. the way his lips moved against yours, his hands lying gently on your hips. you wanted to remember everything.

he pushed you up against the wall of the bathroom, grabbing your jaw to pepper kisses down your neck.

wasting no time at all, he’d removed clothing and tossed it to the side.

rafe wasn’t hiding the fact that he was mesmerized. sure, he’d seen you in swimsuits, your body turned away while you hastily changed into a different cover outfit, he’d seen pieces of your naked skin plenty of times.

but this was different, this was completely, truly all for him.

you smiled up at him, grabbing his face to pull him in for another kiss.

he dropped to his knees, grabbing your leg and pushing it up to spread you apart.

his breath fanned against you, giving you goosebumps in return.

“god, i hope we get to play mr. and mrs. manchester again soon.” rafe chuckled, kissing the inner parts of your thigh.

you laughed, your heading falling back. “why?”

“mmm, just brings something inside me out.” rafe mumbled, placing a kiss on your clit that had you gasping.

he pushed a finger into you, watching your reaction. he smiled when your eyes fell closed and your mouth opened.

he pumped his finger, adding a second one only moments later.

you’d thought this was the best it could get, with a man literally on his knees in front of you, giving you the best feeling ever.

then, rafe’s mouth connected with your clit, and a sound fell from your lips so suddenly you were unsure of who it actually came from.

rafe couldn’t get enough, he’d been waiting for this for three years, not sure if he had just fallen asleep in his chair back in the cabin. either way, he was going to make this the best he possibly could.

he popped up from his knees, earning a comment and a whine from you, before he lined himself up with your entrance.

he pushed into you, both of you groaning at the feeling of it.

rafe didn’t let you adjust before he was pulling out and slamming back into you, panting with each thrust.

“shit, baby, you feel so good.” rafe mumbled, barely above a whisper.

he was grabbing at you everywhere, running his hands over your cheek and hair, pinching at your tits, gripping your hips to keep you in place.

his hand fell down to your thigh, pushing it up farther towards your chest, making you cry out.

his hand flew to your mouth, the size of his hand taking up nearly half of his face.

“i’m flattered, honey, but can’t have the pilot hearing us now, right?” rafe smirked, taking away his hand replace it with a kiss.

“but the thrill of getting caught is so fun.” you drawled out, dipping your head to bite and kiss at his neck.

“jesus, woman.” rafe sighed happily, twitched inside of you.

his pace quickened, making you go silent with bliss, his bottom lip tucking between his teeth.

his hand fell back down to your clit, making you fall over the edge.

your orgasm hit you, hard. you were pretty sure you were seeing stars, head falling back as your mouth opened.

rafe took the opportunity to stick two fingers in your mouth, your lips wrapping around them to muffle your moans.

he continued his ruthless pace, his head going fuzzy with the feeling of you clenching around him and your warm mouth around his fingers.

you reached up to grab rafe’s wrist, his eyes catching on the shiny diamond on your ring finger.

his breath hitched, plenty of impossible and unrealistic thoughts blazing in his mind.

the simple thought of you being his, your name followed by ‘cameron’, coming home from missions to a shared home and maybe a cute dog, too.

his eyes screwed shut, thrusts getting sloppy as his head fell into your shoulder, finishing inside you.

once he slowed to a stop, his hands left you and landed on the sink your back was leaning on.

“holy shit.” you mumbled, laughing.

“yeah, i know.” rafe laughed along with you, his head still hung low.

you put your hands on his shoulder, catching your breath in the process.

rafe looked up at you, a genuine look in his eye as he pushed some of your hair stuck to your face out of the way.

“same time, next mission?” a cocky smile painting his features, his hand settling on your cheek.

“i thought we agreed on one time?” you tilted your head, tongue poking out to lick your lips.

“i don’t think i could live with only one time after that.” rafe chuckled, leaning in for another kiss.

a/n - i’ll keep it so for real with you men in black inspired me to make this fic, then i realized this is so mr. and mrs. smith, so thank you for the inspo simon kinberg! ☺️

[viceroywrites]

liquor on your lips (1/2)

you met stan pines on your first day working at the dead end motel.

in just a week, you were addicted to him.

mullet stan x gn!reader

part two here

inspired by you can be the boss by lana del rey - contributing to the mullet stan obsession - second part will include smut 👀

.

It was your first day on the job when you met Stan Pines.

The owner of the motel, Tony, walked you through your daily duties at the Dead End Motel. 

Checking guests in and out, answering the phones, collecting money from anyone staying for more than one night at the motel.

It was a fairly simple job it seemed like.

“If anyone gives you a hard time when I’m not here, call me - I live just a block away and can swing by to straighten them out. There’s also a bat underneath the counter - I’m giving you full permission to slug anyone. We’ll just erase it from the camera footage if we need to.” Tony explains, pulling the bat out.

Well, maybe not.   

You blink, digesting the thought that you might actually have to use it but nod in understanding.

“Alright, I’ll leave you to it. I’ll be in the back doing some paperwork, holler if you need me.” Tony disappears into his back office, leaving you at the front desk.

The next few hours are pretty uneventful. You check-out some people and have one check-in. Right at 5, Tony dips out for the day, reminding you to give him a call if anything happens and to clock-out before you head out when the night shift person takes your place.

You spend the next few hours leaning back in the office chair and doodling, hoping to past the time and reminding yourself to bring a book or crosswords to work on during these slower hours.

The jingle of the bell signaled the arrival of someone as the front door swung open. You quickly put the piece of paper down, straightening your posture as you had your feet propped up on the counter.

In walked a man in his 30s, the messy mop of brown atop his head grown out into a mullet, the stubble across his square jawline apparent. He wore a white t-shirt, a pair of pants that had a few stains littered across the material and a red hoodie that looked like it had seen better days.

The scent of tobacco and a woodsy, cheap cologne hit you immediately as he approached the desk, his hands in his pockets.

“Hey.. uh.. I need a room for the night.” His deep, gruff voice echoed through the small, empty lobby. Your feet push against the tile floor, wheeling over to the opposite end of the counter and glancing over at the list of the available rooms.

“Room for one or two?” You ask, eyebrow raised as you look back over to him. 

Stan looks around the empty lobby before replying in response, “Well, there’s no one else here but me, toots.”

Your cheeks can’t help but flush in embarrassment. You get up from your seat before muttering out an explanation, “Figured I’d just ask. This place is a hot spot for late night hook-ups so I didn’t know if you had a date waiting for you in the car.”

Stan lets out a husky chuckle, leaning against the counter, “Not sure if I should be offended or flattered that you think I would be coming here for a hook-up.” His eyes follow your figure as you face away from him, searching for a particular room key. 

He had to admit after all the seedy motels he’s stayed at, he wasn’t expecting to see someone as stunning as you. You stood out in the tiny motel lobby, a fresh face in a dreary environment, somehow looking radiant underneath the yellow, fluorescent lights that hang above.

You grab a key off the hooks on the wall, the keychain with the number 12 dangling from it. “The rate for one night will be $20.” You slide the key onto the counter.

Stan fishes into his deep hoodie pocket, pulling out a beat-up leather wallet. Rifling through the crumpled up business cards of all his short-lived business ventures and his numerous fake IDs, he finally fishes out a few dollar bills. Thumbing through them, he curses underneath his breath.

He’s short by only 3 bucks.

His brown eyes glance up at you with a sense of unease, clearing his throat, “Mind if I go back to my car and scrounge up some change?”

It slowly dawns on you the predicament that he’s in, nodding in understanding. You watch as he disappears back outside and you can’t help but follow behind him. Through the glass door, you watch as he unlocks his car, tossing miscellaneous objects aside while he digs in the back seat for spare change he might have dropped.

Sympathy washes over you as you see his crest-fallen expression when he comes out from the car with only a dollar and a few cents of change in the palm of his hand. You scurry back behind the desk before he makes his way back, ready to tell you that he’ll have to find another place to stay for the night.

“Hey, toots, turns out I don’t have enough. Sorry to waste your time.” Stan says, rubbing the back of his neck as he stares at the ground in shame. He’s about to reach for the bills that he threw on the counter, ready to take his leave. 

“It’s on me.” You quickly say, fishing out the remaining three dollars needed and grabbing the stack of bills on the counter to put in the cash box underneath the desk. 

As you come back up, you see Stan staring back at you in astonishment.

In all the years that Stan had been running from state to state, no one had shown him the kindness that you showed him today. No one had extended out a hand, offering support… at least not without a price. 

“Why are you helping me?” Stan asks in his state of shock.

You pause at his question. You’re not sure what compelled you to help this total stranger out but you knew if you were struggling, you would want someone to lend you a helping hand. 

“Why not?” You answer back simply, “It doesn’t cost me anything to be kind.” 

“Well, it did cost you a couple bucks.” Stan can’t help but point out.

“Eh, I’ll make those couple bucks back in no time at my first job.” You shrug with a smile, “I work as a bartender at the bar across town, this is just my second job to make a couple extra bucks.” 

“So you’re a bit of a workhorse, huh? I can respect that, sweetheart.” Stan says with a grin, finally taking the keys off the counter.

“Toots, sweetheart? You sure are laying it on thick, you don’t have to flatter me just because I helped you out.” You can’t help but chuckle, trying to downplay how those pet names were starting to cause butterflies in your stomach and a flush to spread across your cheeks.

Stan stammers, flustered by you calling him out on his playboy schtick and you giggle, “Hey, I didn’t say that I didn’t like it.” You admit with a playful grin.

It’s his turn for his cheeks to glow and Stan can’t help the huge smile that spreads across his features, “Well, just so you know, I’m not just calling you those because you helped me out. I mean look at ya, you’re like a painting in a museum, begging to be admired.”

He can’t remember the last time he cracked a genuine smile.

“Well, I would like to at least know the name of the person showering me with all these compliments.” You chuckle, introducing yourself.

Stan hesitates as he is used to utilizing one of his many aliases, but somehow his real name rolls off his tongue for the first time in decades, “Stanley Pines.”

Just after his introduction, your co-worker comes to take over for the night shift.

“Well, Stanley, my shift is almost over. Smoking is allowed but please use the ashtray in the room. The ice machine is near the staircase to the second floor.” You say, slipping on your own jacket before making your way around the counter with your bag over your shoulder.

Stan had to admit it felt nice to finally be called by his actual name in years, a warm sensation filling his chest. 

Comfort.

He follows you out the door, room key in his hand, “Mind if I walk you to your car? It’s the least I could do for you helping me out.”

You smile and nod, “I would like that a lot.”

Bad to the bone, sick as a dog.

You know that I like, like you a lot.

Don’t let it stop.

Stan and you fell into a routine after your first meeting.

Like clockwork, Stan would visit you, keeping you company at the end of your shift after Tony had left for the day. 

Sometimes he would run a new sales pitch by you, workshopping it with you as you gave him honest but supportive feedback.

Sometimes he would just listen, leaning against the counter as you vent about a customer that was giving you a hard time at your other job.

Belly aching laughter would echo through the motel lobby, Stan’s quick wit matching yours. 

A dangerous dance of banter and flirtation grew bolder and bolder with each evening.

Somehow, the chemistry you had with this man that you still knew little about was more electric than anything you had ever experienced.

At the end of each night, Stan would walk out with you, opening your car door as you slid into the driver’s seat, leaving you with a good night and a wish for you to get home safely.

Tonight was the first time you fell out of the carefree routine.

Your fingers drummed against the counter, your palm cradling your chin as you stared at the clock with a pit in your stomach. An hour had rolled by since Tony had left for the day and yet there was no sign of Stan.

What if he had checked out last night after you had left your shift?

What if he was onto the next town without even saying goodbye?

What if something happened to him?

Your leg bounced up and down, trying to distract yourself with the book you had brought but to no avail.

One hour turned to two.

Two turned to three.

Losing hope at hour four, your eyes begin to flutter, resting your arms on the counter and deciding it wouldn’t hurt to take a quick nap. The bell up front would wake you up anyways.

Instead, you were woken to a warm hand shaking your shoulder. Your eyes shoot open and are greeted to the sight of a pair of battered, bloody knuckles on your shoulder.

Instinct kicks in, your hands grabbing the bat that rested against your left leg underneath the desk and standing up with it raised over your shoulder. 

“Whoa, whoa, toots! Put the bat down, it’s just me!” Stan explained, putting his hands up as he took a cautious step back.

You blink, seeing Stanley standing in front of you, his knuckles looking roughed up and a pretty gnarly cut near his eyebrow. He looks disheveled, wearing just a thin white t-shirt that has splotches of dried blood dotted across it and a pair of dark jeans.

You put the bat down immediately, your worst fears confirmed as you quickly step around the counter, “Stanley, what the hell happened to you?” You say, voice full of concern. Your hand reaches out to cup his jaw to assess the damage, and he almost melts against your warm touch.

God, is this what an angel looks like? He wonders, admiring your features up close despite the furrow in your eyebrow.

“Got in a bit of trouble but I got myself out of it. I’m okay, sweetheart.” Stan attempts to reassure you, trying to play it cool though he had to admit this last run-in with Rico and his goons was a bit too close for comfort.

“Stanley, you’re hurt… take a seat, I’m gonna go grab a first aid kit.” You sigh, your lips in a tight line. Stan doesn’t argue, taking a seat in the leather chair. His thumbs twidle together, feeling like he was a kid again, waiting in the principal’s office to get lectured.

You come back with a tiny first aid kid and take a seat on the table in front of him, cracking it open. You start first on the swollen cut near Stan’s eyebrow, tearing the packaging off the alcohol wipe and leaning forward. “It’s gonna sting…” You warn him.

“Oh please, I just took a beating, I’m sure a little wipe isn’t gonna - Ow! Motherfucker!” Stan curses loudly, wincing as the pad hits his fresh wound. You pull back, your eyebrow raised in amusement, “You were saying?”

“Alright, fine… just be quick with it.” Stan mutters, his arms crossed over his chest in defeat. He winces as you carefully dab across the wound, making sure to clean up the dried blood on the edges that had clung to his eyebrow. While you were cleaning up his wound, your eyes couldn’t help but drift down to his toned forearms that were littered with hair up to his biceps that were accentuated by the tight fabric of his tee.

Your eyes meet Stan’s, an amused grin across his face despite the pain. “Enjoying the view, toots?” You huff in annoyance, trying to ignore how your cheeks burn in embarrassment as you press the alcohol wipe more firmly against his wound as payback.

“Ow!”

The harsh lecture he was anticipating never comes. 

Instead, as you finish bandaging up his knuckles, you gaze up at him with a sad look in your eyes, “I’m just glad you’re okay… please be more careful.” 

Stan nods, “Sorry to worry you, toots.”

He had a cigarette with his number on it,

He gave it over to me, “Do you want it?”

I knew it was wrong but I palmed it.

After your shift is over, you step outside, wishing your co-worker a good night and rolling your eyes in good-nature as they give you a knowing grin when commenting that Stan was outside waiting for you.

The cool evening air hits your face the moment you step out the door and the scent of cigarettes catches your attention. You turn to see Stan leaning against the wall, a freshly lit cigarette between his fingers as he takes a drag from it.

“You didn’t have to wait for me, you should be resting.” You say, approaching him.

Stan turns his head in the other direction, blowing a plume of smoke out from his chapped lips before turning back to face you, “I can rest all day tomorrow. Gotta walk you to your car, don’t know what kinda sleazebags are lurking around at this time.” 

“Aren’t you cold?” You pointed out, noting that Stan was still wearing his white t-shirt despite you sending him out to get a hoodie or sweater from his hotel room.

Not that you were complaining about the eye-candy.

Stan gives a casual shrug, “Not really, the cold out here is nothing compared to winters in Jersey.”

“New Jersey, huh? Didn’t realize you came all the way from the other coast.” You chuckle, leaning against the wall yourself as you watch Stan take another drag.

He almost chokes on the smoke as he inhales, realizing he shared another piece of himself that he had never shared with anyone in his years on the run.

Living life as a drifter, he tried to keep his interactions surface-level, knowing that he may have to pick up and run the next morning.

Yet somehow, you were breaking the walls he had crafted for years down.

Stan exhales the smoke before glancing over at you, “You know I still owe you for covering my room this past week? Is there any way I can make it up to you, sweetheart? Heck, I’ll even do chores around your apartment while you’re at work.”

You pause, mulling over the offer. You had never expected Stan to pay you back, wanting to help him while he was still trying to get back on his feet. 

“Honestly, Stan, you don’t have to pay me back. It’s fine.” You insisted but Stan’s stubbornness began to show through.

“At least let me take you out to dinner or buy you a drink. I’ll give you tonight to mull it over and l expect an answer tomorrow.” Stan says with a sense of finality.

You can’t help but chuckle at his stubbornness, “Alright, alright… but you know I won’t be here tomorrow. I’m covering a day shift for one of the other bartenders.”

Stan pauses before reaching into his pocket to fish out his pack of cigarettes. Your eyebrow raises in confusion and he looks up at you, “You got a pen?”

You open your bag, digging through its contents before retrieving a pen and handing it over to him. He messily scrawls something on the tiny stick before passing it and the pen back to you, his fingertips lingering as they brush against yours.

You look down at the cigarette, seeing a clumsy string of numbers written on it.

“That’s the direct dial to my room.” Stan explains, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Give it a call when you get off tomorrow and let me know.”

You slip the cigarette into your purse, “I will.”

[reminiscingtonight]

would you do a blurb or headcannons for prior engagements?

Prior Engagements Headcanon:

You miss graduation due to an away game scheduled the day of

The barca girls try raising your spirits but they can tell you’re a little disappointed

The game is won easily but by the time you get back to the hotel you’re tired, grumpy, and just want to cuddle with your girlfriend 

To your disappointment Alexia all but bolts the second the bus door opens

You don’t even have time to play the wounded girlfriend card because Mapi all but glues herself to your side the moment Alexia’s gone

Dropping off your things in your room? Mapi’s giving you unsolicited advice about your nonexistent cat that she thinks you should adopt

Hunting walking around the hotel in hopes of finding your girlfriend? Mapi’s talking your ear off about the trip Ingrid’s taking her on after the season’s over

Showering to get some peace and quiet? Mapi’s sat outside with the bathroom door wide open, yelling above the shower so she can be heard

By the time you’ve pulled on a change of clothes, ready for your dinner with some of the barca girls, you’ve hit your Mapi limit

The Spainard looks nonplussed when you hint heavily that she should go find Ingrid

“Oh don’t worry, Frido invited me and Ingrid to dinner. She’ll meet us there.”

When Mapi starts directing you to the rec room, you try digging your heels in

She whines that she left her sweatshirt there yesterday but you tell her you’ll wait in the lobby for her with a straight face

When she “accidentally” hits the floor for the rec room, you have to resist the urge to strangle her

The lights are off when you push open the door, which you find strange

Even stranger, when you turn around Mapi has seemingly disappeared

“Goddamnit, Maria, where--”

You jump when the lights flicker on, confetti raining down over you as you’re met with the sight of your grinning teammates

Everyone’s wearing makeshift caps and gowns, a few of them even with fake scrolls in their hands

Alexia comes forward, plopping a graduation cap onto your head

“My smart scholar, I’m so proud of you”

The training staff turns a blind eye when Alexia excitedly pulls you forwards deeper into the room where you can see a cake on the table with a crudely drawn hat and diploma over its top

You’re trying to be polite about it, but Mapi has no qualms making fun of her artwork

Alexia frowns and Ingrid’s already beginning to scold her girlfriend, but you find your justice by grabbing hold of Mapi by the shoulders and shoving her face first into the cake

Alexia decides the debt paid at the sight of Mapi sputtering and wiping frantically to clear her vision

Send me a fic title

[thatsdemko]

the devils on my shoulders - c.sainz & l.norris

threes company masterlist

masterlist

part two - coming soon

pairings: lando norris x fem!reader & Carlos sainz x fem!reader

warnings: not intended for minors + mentions of oral ( f + m receiving) + plot twist at the end

the tasteful dinner in front of you, is rather boring.

the cocktails and small conversations are yawn worthy, as you sit in between your father and his business partners.

they toast to another successful weekend. another yawn escapes your lips.

you’re so thankful your eyes catch something more entertaining than the snotty rich business men.

a classy pair of gentlemen dressed in suits. one dapper in black and the other in blue. one with curls and the other with soft thick brown locks.

you feel your heart pounding out of your chest. their enigma pulls you in. curiosity strikes, as you shift upward in your seat and excuse yourself.

you brush past the two gentlemen. your hand lingers on the elder looking one, and when you walk past you make sure you give him a quick glance over your shoulder.

you’ve reeled him in.

“she’s hot.”

you step up to the bar. reaching into your purse, it’s fake out move, he swoops in and slams his card down. you had no intentions of paying, either one of them wouldn’t have wasted the time, and it seems the younger one stepped up to the plate first.

“who are you?” he shifts towards you as the bartender is off with his credit card. no introductions, no nothing. he’s straight to the point.

“what do you want me to be?” you tilt your head upward to eye him when his mate steps up beside him. the one you original made a move on.

he looks over at the elder one and back at you, “what do you want from us?”

—

Carlos and Lando are their names. Formula 1 drivers are their professions. you’ve seemed to land yourself another rich snotty man men.

they were a duo— at least claimed to be a duo.

they weren’t a package deal, you visited one more often than the other but it never meant you were exclusively seeing that lad.

he’s dressed in bright orange, the other in bright red, as they enter your hotel lobby. it doesn’t take long for them to spot you, you’re in the corner booth cheering another successful weekend. that yawn escapes your lips.

“come on,” Carlos gestures for lando to follow into the hotel restaurant. they take a seat at the bar directly across from your table. they have a perfect view you in your tight mini black dress.

from the corner of your eye you see the two of them seated at the bar. both accompanied by drinks in front of them. Carlos is talking to the bartender, his index finger points at your table and you feel the heat instantly rush to your cheeks.

you can’t make out what’s being said, but when the bartender walks away from Carlos you catch him flash you a wink and settle into his seat.

“excuse me, miss,” your waitress taps your shoulder making you turn towards her. the chatter of the business men die down to hear what she has to say, “those two gentlemen sent you this drink.”

she sets the napkin down first and you recognize the handwriting on the bottom of the tiny cloth. it’s the room number that lando was staying in. Carlos must’ve wrote it down for you, like he thinks you haven’t been in that room enough times this weekend.

“tell them thank you.” you say quickly pocketing the napkin into your purse and sip on the rather strong cocktail.

your eyes flicker over at the two of them, cheeky smiles on both of their lips you’ll make them pay for.

—

“happy for you to join us.” lando’s bright smile is the first thing you see when he opens the door. you want to wipe that smile clean from the embarrassment those two gave you.

“you realize the men I was with are my dads business partners and potential clients? you could’ve got him fired!” you push past lando to find Carlos cozied up in the hotel bed, your missing pair of expensive lacy pants lay beside him neatly folded.

“ay, we’re sorry, amor.” Carlos sits up from the bed, his hand gently cups your shoulder, thumb brushing your exposed skin of your collarbone, “it won’t happen again.” his smile is sincere, and when you feel landos hand against your back you see the same look on his face.

you sigh, allowing your stiff muscles to relax, “you two are the devils on my shoulders.”

lando chuckles from beside you. he moves to the bed and tosses you the pair of panties, “you left these at Carlos’ place.”

“no I’m pretty sure I left them with you?”

“you don’t remember that night?” a smile is pulled on lando’s lips. you back away from Carlos carefully before plopping your body down onto the bed. your eyes scan the two boys trying to recall that night. there was too many nights with them.

“lando, help remind her of that night, will you?”

lando sits in the chair in the corner of the room, his hands are placed on the arms of each chair, “well we first started out here.” he wiggles his eyebrows, “you claimed it not good enough for yourself.”

you feel a fire against your skin. you can begin to recall some of the memories of that night.

“this isn’t big enough for the both of us.” you whispered in between kisses. your fingers work undoing the buttons on his shirt, “we need to move.”

“don’t forget me.” Carlos’ hands roam your body. he pulls you close into his chest, hands creeping upward towards your breasts, “did you think I’d let him have you all to himself?”

he presses his thumb gently against your nipple beginning to make circle motions with it, “so pretty you are.”

your body molds against his, butt pressing against his hardness in his pants. a whine escapes your lips while you tilt your head upward, lips sucking on his collarbone.

Carlos chuckles to himself making your head snap in his direction. he’s leaned against the wall beside lando, “what’s funny?” you press, eyebrow’s furrowed together his laughter stops.

“nothing, just remembering an important detail.”

“which is?”

“how you sucked his dick in front of me. took like the good girl you are.”

your back straightens up, the hairs on your arms stand tall. how could such filth be spit out of his mouth? you must’ve been in such a euphoric state to forget sucking landos dick or Carlos eating you out. they seemed to enjoy sharing you more than you would’ve thought.

“so what do you two want from me?” you ask. the question comes back in full circle from the very first night you met them both. the night that seemed to change everything.

Carlos looks at lando with a devilish grin, lando mocks him before turning back to you, “you into foursomes?”

“you boys and your games,” you tsk them shaking your head. it doesn’t occur to you until you stop and think about what they’re asking that they are being serious. they aren’t smirking or laughing like it’s rather a funny hypothetical. it’s very much a real question.

“what do you have in mind?”

tags: @softtdaisy @oconso @xcicix @imsorare @weasleyswizardwheezes-blog @monzabee @lpab @frreyaa @motorsp0rt @lovelytsunoda @smoothopz @jaehyunluvcult @iloveyou3000morgan @lunnnix @leclerc13 @ophcelia

[fakelobbycards]

Godzilla Minus One, fake Japanese Lobby Card. 2023

[jjungkookislife]

Available Ch. 5

pairing: namjoon x f. reader

genre: strangers to lovers, smut [18+]

summary: You’ve run out of time to find a date for your high school reunion. While having a drink at the bar, you meet a handsome stranger who agrees to be your fake husband for the night.

wc: 2.6k

warnings: making out, hair pulling, one-night stand, the heels stay on!, oral sex (f. giving and receiving), protected sex, petnames, multiple orgasms, cum swallowing

Date: June 15, 2024

Namjoon is silent as he leads you through the bar toward the lobby, his large palm on the small of your back to guide you. His touch sends tingles down your spine, butterflies swirling in your stomach as you think of something to say, something to keep you with him longer but alas, you can't find the words.

It's Namjoon who breaks the silence once you arrive at the lobby, the elevator doors open to allow guests off and he moves you to the side to avoid a collision.

"Are you staying in this hotel?" he asks to be sure you won't need a ride. After all, he's sure Jimin and Taehyung would find and threaten him should you come to any harm.

"Yes," you answer softly. "Jimin thought it'd be the best plan considering the open bar."

"Smart man," Namjoon chuckles. 

"He's a sweetheart," you add with a smile.

Namjoon smiles in return, his hand cupping your cheek, and his thumb tracing your bottom lip. His dark eyes sparkle as he looks at you, and he hates that your night has to end. Would he see you again? Would you want to see him? Would he remember the taste of your lips or would they fade into poor recollections of tonight?

You stare back at him, breath caught in your throat, wishing he would kiss you already. You don't want to end the night without the touch of his lips on yours; without feeling the broadness of his shoulders beneath your hands, without knowing what your name sounds like escaping his lips in the throes of passion.

Namjoon chuckles at the look that crosses your face, smoothing the crease in your forehead when your brows furrow. "I had a lovely time tonight, baby. I wasn't expecting anything when I walked into the bar but then I saw you and I knew I had to speak to you."

"Talk about fate, huh?" you grin.

"Maybe it is," he wonders as he leans forward, his lips brushing against yours in a soft kiss that leaves you wanting more. Before the kiss can grow deeper, Namjoon pulls away, a smile on his lips as he takes your hand in his. "I wish tonight didn't have to end."

"Perhaps, it doesn't," you respond, biting your lip as your eyes lock with his.

Namjoon raises a brow in question, but the look you give him makes his dick twitch instead. Fuck.

"I'm staying in room 912," he states nonchalantly, leaving the ball in your court.

"Care to show it to me?" 

"Gladly," Namjoon brings your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to it before leading you to the elevator. You're excited as he hits the button to call them, and it arrives soon enough. Namjoon moves you to the side as guests leave the elevator and then guides you inside, taking the left corner after hitting the button for his floor. You remain glued to his side, his hand in yours, and for a few floors you're both silent until he turns to you and whispers, "Fuck it."

He kisses you deeply, his hand cradling your face as you're pressed to the wall and the elevator goes up and up and up. Your leg is hiked up around his hip, a handful of your ass in his hands as your fingers card through his hair, tugging and pulling just to hear him moan and groan against your lips.

Too soon, or not soon enough, the elevator comes to a stop and the two of you break apart panting. Your lipstick is smeared on your lips, half on Joon's face as well. You both laugh when you look at each other and he takes your hand to lead you out of the elevator. You follow him with a giddy smile, body thrumming with excitement as you reach his room. He easily swipes his card to get inside.

You're in awe of the fanciness when you step into the suite. This is a major upgrade from the room you had booked on a lower floor. 

"Wow! This is fancy!" you comment as you take a look around. Namjoon blushes. 

"I wanted something more private when I came into town for the convention. I didn't think they'd put me in a suite but it's nice. You should see the hot tub in the bathroom. Those jets will leave you feeling like a new person," he says as he sets his wallet and room key on the coffee table. 

The living room is large with black leather couches and a giant TV mounted on the wall, off to the side there's a dining area near a desk with a plush desk chair sitting in front of it. Off to the right, there are three doors, and you assume one of them must be the room Namjoon claimed as his own.

"Can I get you a drink?" he asks, and you decline as you sit on the couch before he joins you. You set your purse behind you as you scoot closer to Namjoon, who welcomes you into his arms as he kisses you once again.

It's not too long before you're climbing into his lap, legs on either side of his hips as you grind against him, your fingers working the buttons of his jacket, pushing it down his broad shoulders and helping him out of it before you're quickly undoing the buttons on his shirt, eager to see the muscle that lays beneath.

Breathless, you're rewarded with his golden skin, and he chuckles when you bite your lip to smother a moan. 

"Like what you see?" he asks teasingly, his hands on your hips for a moment before his fingers toy with the zipper of your dress. You gulp, nodding.

"Do you want to keep going, baby?" he asks as he still his movements. 

“Yes,” you answer as you kiss him again, your hands working his belt as he pulls the zipper of your dress down.

You moan his name softly when he helps you out of the dress, left in your heels and panties. Namjoon doesn’t ogle you like others have before. Instead, he takes your hand and leads you to his lush bed.

Namjoon is a god among men. 

There was no one else that compared to him. He was broad, thick in the most wonderful sense and his dimples were so deep you could probably drown in them if you tried hard enough.

His eyes shine with mischief, almost as if he can read your mind as you admire him in all his glory. 

With skill, Namjoon unbuttons his pants and pulls down the zipper in one go. His eyes never stray from yours as you lick your lips. You blink owlishly as you sit back on the bed, resting your weight on your palms on the mattress. Your breasts jut out and Namjoon curses quietly.

You were a beauty. He knew the moment he saw you, that he had to know you. You being in his bed was just the cherry on top.

Namjoon doesn’t break eye contact as he pulls his pants down his mouthwatering thighs. He picks them up and folds them on the nightstand before he approaches you.

Your lips are on his the moment he’s close enough. You moan his name as you fall onto the mattress, your hair a mess on the sheets.

“So beautiful,” Namjoon whispers as he trails kisses to your jaw, neck, and between your breasts. “So, so beautiful.”

When he takes your nipple in his mouth, teeth scraping your skin lightly, you’re done. You grab a handful of his hair, arching into him as his large hand palms your breast, fingers pinching your nipple lightly.

“Joon!” you exclaim as he continues to suck, his tongue swirling around the stiff peak. Namjoon continues his ministrations, his hard cock twitching in his boxers. He grinds his hips into the mattress, groaning from the stimulation.

“Fuck, love,” he mutters as he switches to your other tit to give it the same treatment before he kisses down your body. His hands grip your hips, cursing at the feel of them. He wants to eat you up, split you open, stuff you full of him until you’re begging for more.

Namjoon meets your gaze, “Can I?”

“Please,” you whimper as he tugs your panties down your legs, smiling when you lift your hips to help.

He throws your panties near the nightstand, neither of you caring where they land. 

“Beautiful,” he murmurs as he spreads your legs further apart, surprised by how wet you are. He licks his lips, eyes hooded as he notes your heels are still on.

They’ll feel so good digging into his back.

Namjoon takes his time kissing up one leg and then the other, smirking when you arch your back and lift your hips, trying to get him to touch you where you need it most.

He’s slow with his movements, careful as he grips your thighs to tug you toward him, placing your legs over his shoulders, cursing when your heels dig into his broad back.

“Joon!” you moan when the flat of his tongue licks up your folds. He curses, diving in, fueled by your moans and sweet sounds. Your hand grips his hair tightly, fucking his face as he teases you with his tongue and plush lips.

Your thighs shake when you hit your peak, crying out his name.

Namjoon curses, licking his lips as he climbs over you to kiss you. You kiss him back, nails digging into his shoulders as you pull him close, feeling his weight over you. You’d let him smother you if he asked.

“Do you want to keep going?” Namjoon asks as he cups your hand. 

“Yes, please,” you nod as he brushes his lips against yours.

Namjoon reaches for the condom on the nightstand. He easily rips it open and slides it on. You hope you’ll get the chance to have him in your mouth before the night ends.

Your hands cup his face, kissing him as he slides home. You moan into the kiss, his tongue meeting yours as he wraps your leg around his hip.

“Fuck,” he breathes. “You’re so fucking wet, baby.”

“Joon,” you moan as he rewards you with a thrust. He starts slowly, allowing you to adjust to his thick cock. You’re already seeing stars, heat pooling deep in your belly.

“Fuck, baby,” Namjoon grunts as you meet each of his thrusts, clenching around him like you want to milk him for all he’s worth. He rubs your clit before he takes a nipple into his mouth and pleasure courses through you until you’re tugging his thick hair and cumming on his cock.

“That’s it, love. Good girl,” he praises as you whine, not wanting to let him go. He kisses you deeply, making you fall in love. Hearts in your eyes, cock still in your cunt, you know this has to be more than a one-night stand.

Namjoon is gentle with you as he gets you on your hands and knees. He admires your body, licking his lips as he grips your hip with one hand and uses the other to line his thick cock at your entrance before he fills you fully once again.

You’re willing to crawl to the ends of the world if it means getting fucked deliciously by him on the regular. You’re not even sure you asked where he lives, too fucked out to think about anything except his fat cock splitting you in two.

He grabs your hips, fucking your harder as stars fill your vision and you curse his name. Drool threatens to escape your lips as tears roll down your cheeks. You can’t remember the last time you were fucked this good.

You cum again with no warning, tightening around Namjoon and making him see the heavens as he fucks you through it, praising you through the first wave and the second.

“Shit!” Namjoon exclaims as you cream his cock. He cards a hand through his hair as he watches you fucking yourself on his dick, still hungry for more.

Namjoon doesn’t disappoint as he fucks you until you’re hoarse. Galaxies explode behind your closed eyelids, love, and lust mingling to make your heart bloom with giddiness as you cum once more.

Namjoon pulls out of you, ripping the condom off as you grab him, stroking him as your lips wrap around the head of his dick. He tangles his fingers in your hair, moaning as he cums in your mouth and you swallow every drop.

You’re both spent, lying beside each other in his bed.

You both laugh as you turn to face each other, kissing as he leads you to the hot tub in the bathroom. 

You’re sure you’ve found the love of your life but you don’t want to get too ahead of yourself.

Morning comes much too soon as you dress as slowly as possible, kissing Namjoon goodbye before heading down to your room to get dressed and ready for your flight.

Jimin wants all the details and you share some over breakfast, wishing you had more time to spend with Namjoon.

The reunion had gone better than expected with Namjoon at your side, and that was all that mattered.

The ride to the airport is quick, as is boarding. Jimin and Taehyung fill you in on Seokjin’s shenanigans, including his escort out of the reunion by hotel security when Jin took the microphone again and tried to place bets on how long Vanessa’s relationship would last and if anyone would end up waking up beside Daniel.

You daydream about your night. Namjoon had fucked you on his bed, the tub, the couch, against the wall, over the desk, and even in the desk chair. It had been hard to say goodbye in the morning. The both of you kept kissing, hugging, promising to call and text before you ran out of time and had to go.

You wonder if you’ll ever see him again.

“Excuse me, Miss?” you look up when you feel a tap on your shoulder. It’s the flight attendant. “You’ve been upgraded to first class. If you’ll follow me.”

Confused, you do as you’re told.

Surely Jimin hadn’t done this? You know it’s something he’d do, but why? What was he up to?

When you arrive at your seat, your neighboring passenger is already in the window seat, looking at the workers getting the bags into the plane and getting ready to direct the pilot.

You look around, trying to spot Jimin.

You find him across and back a row. 

“Jimin!” you hiss. Why hadn’t he sat you beside him?

Jimin waves, blowing you a kiss. “Thank me later, babe.”

“What?” you hiss in response as a passenger walks by and you settle in your seat. You take an earbud out of its case and place it in your ear as you open your podcast playlist.

“Oh, this isn’t my seat,” The man beside you says as he gets up after you make room for him. You sit back down once he’s gone and go back to your podcast.

What was Jimin even going on about?

“Excuse me,” A deep voice sounds beside you. 

“Is this seat available?” you look up, eyes wide as Namjoon smiles down at you. You gape at him, surprised to see him after you had said your goodbyes this morning and shared a few longing kisses.

“Go ahead,” you say as you rise to let him pass by you and into the seat. He makes sure it’s his before he settles in.

“Funny seeing you here,” he says with a laugh.

“Funnier than you’d think,” You state as you send a knowing look to your best friend, who raises his glass of champagne to the both of you.

“Still believe in fate?” Namjoon asks as he takes your hand in his.

“Yes,” you answer honestly. “But if not, I think Jimin’s got us covered.”

<< previous

© jjungkookislife - I do not allow reposts or translations of my work on any platforms, this includes Youtube.

[thebeast-dennis-etcetera]

Karma

Prompt: You go undercover with DiNozzo as his wife, and Gibbs, your boyfriend has no choice but to watch from the sidelines.

You weren’t happy about being partnered with DiNozzo on your current undercover case but not nearly as unhappy about it as Jethro. Nothing against DiNozzo but pretending to be his wife was almost close to a nightmare for you. Vance denied Jethro posing as your significant other only because he didn’t fit the profile and Tony already had established contact, which actually worked in your favor since you and Jethro had gotten into a slight argument before the op and had you been partnered with him, you might’ve ended up strangling him.

So as Tony and you stood in the elevator, you closed your eyes and mentally stepped into your alias.

“Alright DiNozzo, Y/L/N. Com check,” you heard Jethro speak in your earpiece.

“Heard ya loud and clear boss,” Tony responded.

You ignored him, finishing going over your cover story in your head, making sure you remembered every detail. The way you talked, walked and even smiled mattered.

“Y/N!”

“No need to yell in my ear Gibbs, I can hear you just fine,” you finally responded as the doors opened and the two of you walked out into crowded lobby.

The plan was simple. Your target was having dinner in the hotel restaurant, all you two had to do was have some dinner as well, scan the room so Abby can run facial recognition software through Tony’s glasses and get out of there safely.

“Hi, reservation for my husband and I,” you told the hostess with a fake smile as your hand intertwined with DiNozzo’s.

“Of course, right this way ma’am.”

She led you two through the restaurant, seating you in one of the corners, per DiNozzo’s request so that you had a better vantage point at identifying your suspect. She then handed you off to your server who stood by the table and handed you both a menu.

“May I start you off with any drinks tonight?”

You spoke before Tony got the chance.

“We’ll have 2 glasses of your Coup De Foudre Gauchiste and start off with Gruyère and Crab Palmiers please.”

DiNozzo gave you a slight look of bewilderment but quickly covered it with a smile. The server nodded and left as you heard Gibbs speak.

“We have a budget on this op, Agent Y/L/N.”

“Hm. Then it’s a good thing I brought your card just in case,” you answered back while taking a sip of water. It was quiet for a second before you heard him sigh in exasperation.

“Torres is a really good teacher. You should think about starting a class.”

“Abby get anything yet boss?” DiNozzo jumped in, changing the subject.

“Not yet. Keep looking.”

You both spent the rest of the fake dinner, sipping on the expensive wine, scanning the room, and you giving DiNozzo occasional caresses that you knew made both him and Jethro uncomfortable. Once the dinner ended and the both of you had gotten up to leave, you noticed something out of the corner of your eye. A man matching the description of your suspect was following you. You knew you couldn't let him follow you to the surveillance van so using your high school improv skills, you pulled DiNozzo by the hand into the opposite direction, once you were outside.

"What are you doing?" Tony asked you which you replied with a fake giggle.

"Just follow my lead. We've got a tail."

You pulled him back towards the side of the restaurant where it was dimly lit and stood so that his back was against the wall. You made sure you weren't standing completely in front of him so that his glasses could pick up a good picture of the man following you.

Keeping up the act, you smiled fakely at him and began playing with his tie, moving your hands so they trailed up his chest and settled around his neck. He chuckled nervously, clearly unprepared for the unscripted intimacy.

"Ah, jeeze. I can't watch this," you heard Jethro speak faintly in your ear, making you smirk. Serves him right.

"At least pretend like you're enjoying this Tony. Has he passed by yet?" you asked, snapping him out of it.

"Uh, not yet."

He finally put his hands on your waist and then unexpectedly pulled you into his chest for a hug, pretending to nuzzle your neck.

"Got him," you heard Abby confirm. "It's him."

"Tell me when he leaves," you whispered to Tony, continuing to pretend that you two were just a lovestruck couple cuddling in the parking lot.

"McGee, Bishop. Move in now," Gibbs ordered a little harshly.

The two of you gave it a little more time before pulling apart and now following the suspect as you saw McGee and Bishop's car come speeding in from the other side and stop in front of him. They both got out and pulled their weapons out.

"NCIS, stay where you are," McGee called out.

The suspect turned to run but stopped once he saw you and Tony aiming your own weapons at him.

"Too bad you didn't stay for dessert. Their Tiramisu was delicious," Tony joked, making you roll your eyes.

- - - -

You watched from the other side of the interrogation window as Jethro slammed his hand on the table, making both McGee and the suspect jump.

"You think he's a little worked up?" you jokingly asked DiNozzo who stood next to you.

"Yeah, I am not envious of McGee right now. I already feel the major head slapping that's coming to me for the stunt you pulled in the parking lot."

"Stunt? Hey, I was doing my job," you defended.

"Yeah well Gibbs had direct feed to my glasses, seeing what I was saw and you were making it very difficult to keep an eye on the suspect."

You laughed and turned to Tony, putting your hand on his shoulder.

"He's not gonna fault you for being a man, Tony. You did your job. Very well might I add."

He smiled just as the door opened and Jethro stood in the doorway.

"Uh, good talk Agent L/N but I think I should go see what Abby is up to," Tony stuttered, stepping away from your touch and turning to leave. Jethro stayed where he was, blocking Tony's path, increasing his nervousness.

"Uh boss. About earlier. I really wasn't expecting any of that to happen. I mean-

"Get out of here DiNozzo," he ordered, stepping into the room, allowing Tony to pass.

"Right away boss."

He pretty much ran out and you couldn't help but giggle. Jethro's hard stare turned to you as he shut the door and you bit your lip. Your plan definitely succeeded in getting Jethro thoroughly worked up and you loved it. He slowly took steps towards you until you were inches apart, his chest level with your face but your gaze never leaving his. The air was charged as he spoke.

"Is this what I should expect from you every time we have an argument?"

"Only if we have an undercover op the next night."

His hand came up to brush some hair behind your ear and trailed down your jawline to hold your chin.

"Then I'll have to make sure you're always partnered with me."

[goldsbitch]

That one taxi drive

part 8 to That one Christmas flight

summary: Thanks for coming.

warning: pure angst this time and tiny smut (no minors), cheesy af, swear words I guess, cliche probably, typos most definitely

I managed to delete one full draft of this and I'm still not ok with it. Save your drafts, kids.

"Just be cool and act like you belong," was the last text Y/N received from Lando. It was meant more as an encouragement rather than anything else. He sensed from Y/N's hesitant replies that nerves were getting to her.

Y/N was supposed be with her father this week. Instead she was standing in yet another hotel lobby, this time in the middle of Barcelona. It was a strange feeling, her name being secretly listed on his room with the knowledge of the hotel staff and his assistant only. Adrenaline running high. Dirty little secret that had to be kept hidden away - now why was this turning her on?! She felt a bit like a hooker, bit like a fan and just a little bit like a girlfriend. Her and Lando were nowhere near the last option yet, but the thoughts had started creeping in lately in Y/N mind. They'd rarely go few hours without texting and few days without a facetiming. Lando was yet to come to his own room, as he had some media duties to fulfill. And there was no way he would greet her downstairs with the photographers waiting outside the entrance.

She waited at the counter, big glasses and big hat, clothes that she did not normally wear. It was all a little too intense around the official f1 hotel. Dirty little secret. She could have some fun with that. An overly annoyed receptionist lightly nodded once Y/N said her name. She felt some disapproving looks from the girl behind the counter. What was that - disgust? Nevertheless, she received a room card and a huge bouquet with a card.

"This was left for you, you will probably know from who," the receptionist was really not afraid to put in her own opinion, hidden in the way she spoke to Y/N, who found it quite amusing. Y/N panicked a bit. She and Lando both agreed that confidentiality was the top priority for the good of them both, so what the hell was this. Y/N shared one fake smile with the receptionist, grabbed both of the things and headed straight to the elevator, not wanting to hang around too long with a giant bouquet that drew attention.

"Wait miss, the breakfast starts at-" yelled the receptionist after her.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever, thanks," cut her off Y/N, thinking to herself how in the hell could such a prominent place have such tragic receptionist. Only once the elevator doors closed, she relaxed a bit and finally took a look at the flowers in her hands. It is hard to resist the power of a bouquet. Y/N never received one before from a guy, only from her grandpa, who was an old school gentleman. Smile crept to her previously serious face.

Card read "Thanks for coming" - and Y/N knew she'd be keeping it forever.

All her fluffy thoughts were sharply interrupted by the elevator floor opening at the first floor, extended lobby and conference rooms. Joining her in the elevator were two random people in different team attire, but Y/N attention was immediately caught by the one and only. Oh, and his teammate. Brilliant. It took Lando less than a millisecond to recognize her. One smile sneaked in before he came back to his senses and regained control of his face and gestures. Their eyes locked. Y/N's body shifted. She became anything but relaxed. Lando was in a middle of a conversation with Oscar and had to ask him to repeat his last point after getting over his initial shock. They all entered and Y/N paid attention into which floors they were heading. Oscar was the only one heading to the same flood and Lando and her.

Oscar was blabbering unusually today and was not planning on stopping it. Lando could care less. She was right there. He wanted to kiss her so badly, Oscar and all the others be damned. He would love to comment on the hat. He would kill for taking her by her waist and biting her lip just a little bit. It's been a little too long since Italy for impatient Lando. Their looks met for what must have been the seventieth time during this elevator ride. Lando shot her one quick cheeky smile, which almost broke Y/N. You could cut the tension between them with a kitchen knife. The longest elevator ride in the history of elevator rides.

"Oh yeah, and why do you think that is?" he tried to trick Oscar into talking so that he could shut off. Elevator stopped, people left, leaving the trio in elevator alone.

Y/N was panicking for real this time. It would be too obvious to get of at the same floor as they would, right? There must have been very few rooms on the very top. A decision was made and she pressed the button leading to the floor below that. Her awkward movement caught attention of the second McLaren driver for a moment. She smiled awkwardly and avoided any additional contact. Lando was a bit confused by her actions, his impatience growing by the second. She confidently got off one floor than she was supposed to go, leaving Lando bewildered. He and Oscar continued upstairs.

"I think we need to talk more about how to approach the engineers together, Lando. Do you have time now?" Lando had lots of things right now and time for his teammate was not one of those.

"No, sorry man. Gotta prep....Oh, and I forgot something downstairs. Stupid head today," he mumbled, went back to the elevator and waved at Oscar while pushing the button as Y/N had.

The door opened. Lando and Y/N's looks met once again, this time with no prying eyes.

"Got lost?" Lando remarked.

"Just wanted to avoid Oscar. He's not my favorite McLaren driver."

"Oh. That brings up a question who is your favorite driver out of all of the teams."

She smirked and walked all the way to him. Lando hit the elevator button and bit her upper lip. Then he kissed her so deeply one would think it was impossible to untangle them apart again. Y/N melted in his embrace. Any all thought leaving her mind leaving her completely locked in the present moment. Shame that elevator rides had to end sometime.

They left the elevator checking all the hallways for any people passing by.

"Thank you for the flowers and the card," Y/N chatted casually.

"Ha, the card needs to be deserved though," smiled Lando like a teenage boy.

"Does it now?" she asked.

"Uhm...You get to keep that only if you come," he continued with a wink. Her cheeks went red.

She could not help but objectify his body quietly. As summer approached, he had more of a tan, highlighting his toned muscles. They reached his suite quietly, she walked past him, exploring the way light hit the back of his neck. His hair in perfect disheveled state. There are just some details that can't a Facetime call does not catch.

The room was in complete stillness in contrast to the buzz of the hotel lobby. Lando was nervous in the best way possible. She was here. To be with him, to watch him race and he only wanted to make her proud. And satisfied. He let her walk to explore the place, admiring her from behind the same way she had just second ago. Y/N heart went to normal heartbeat once they were finally alone and together. Which was the precise moment when Lando's went up. Her perfume filled the room and he knew he'd be secretly checking out the brand and take a note of it. It felt strangely familiar and other-worldly at the same time. As she stood by the large window, Lando noticed the strap slipping down her shoulder. How was he supposed to stay still? He approached her and hugged her softly from behind, kissing the shoulder which called for him. He felt proud when her he saw the goosebumps he created.

"Like what you see?" he whispered to her ear and bit it lightly. Y/N felt like he had a talent for finding all the secret spots on her body.

"I like what I feel," she sighed and closed her eyes.

"This is merely a starter," he smiled to his kiss.

"I have airport sweat all over me. Would mind helping me wash up?"

His voice went really up with excitement escaping his body. "I would mind being excluded from that, honey."

The shower would have been big enough for five people. But Lando and Y/N stood so close to each other you'd think there was room barely for one of them. He had undressed her painfully slowly, enjoying the hungry look she obviously could not control. Whenever she reached for his own McLaren shirt, he'd reply with something along the lines "Ladies first." Y/N really wanted to look him in the eyes, but how was she supposed when the water falling on his skin made it all wet and shiny. She reached for his shower gel and rubbed it on his chest, making a detailed map of his muscles to imprint in her memory. There was nothing to hide, she felt Lando's erection pushing on her body. He was in a particularly raw mood ever since he saw her today, built up energy coming out. No time for sweet gestures. His left hand gripped her ass and the right one traced the the line from her boobs, squeezed her nipple just a little harder than ever before and it was sending Y/N to a different dimension. Somehow, he got even closer to her than before, pushing her until she was pressed against the shower wall. Water mixed with saliva when their tongues touched and they both got lost in each other. Her hand in his hair and his pressing her neck like nobody who would call her a friend would. She could come right then and there. It was passion mixing with supressed feelings, both of them being really honest only when they did not speak. He squeezed her ass again and pulled her legs up and around his on waist. She opened her eyes only to meet his hungry look. She sensed a question and without needing to hear it being asked she nodded in agreement. He was strong enough to give her full support and felt a little too proud when he saw her give in completely in his direction. He was slow when he first entered her, giving her time to adjust, making sure he was careful enough to keep going. It was a relief to feel him inside, finally after some many wishful nights. Once you taste the sweetest candy, it's impossible to go back to the usual stuff. And together, they were the premium shit. Lando soon found a steady rhytm and her soft moans echoed through the bathroom. She fell completely into his embrace, letting him lead and do anything he wanted - because his instinct was apparently set on the exact setting designed for her body. He wished she hadn't heard his phone ring. And in a way she did too. But he felt her body tensing with every beat of his ringtone. "Lando..." she said in a tone that suggested that the moment was over.

"Just a moment more, honey," he pleaded. Seven thousand moments was what he was really asking.

"We can't...you need to be at places." He did not give a shit - but she did, so he stopped. For a moment they were both catching up with their breath. She smiled at him and kissed him. Lando's erection was not going away easily. "We'll finish later," she promised.

He smiled into their kiss: "Don't think you'll get away so easily next time." Their shared last look, before he reluctantly left the shower, cursing his PR manager who just had to book another interview for this afternoon. It got real quiet for Y/N right after he left. She stood in the shower for sometime, gathering up her thoughs. She has had some pretty stressful couple of days finishing her course and had some deadlines to meet. Managed to get everything in check for the end of the year, but every free minute she had was occupied by the guy, who just left minutes after she came to see him. All of a sudden, it was hard to feel excited about this whole thing. Yes. She understood, or at least tried, the level of responsibility he held. Hell, she even told him to go work. So why where was this irational come down coming from?

//

She left the hotel room hoping she picked a time when most of the crew would already be working and headed to the grid in time for qualifying. They'd agreed that normal VIP pass would be the right decision at this stage, no paddock or McLaren base. It all seemed just a little too intimidating. NDA was sent to Y/N email for her to sign the minute she jumped on the plane. She signed it with a strange bitter feeling in her stomach once Lando left their room, still not sure how she felt about it, not sure if the fact this had been dealt with completely by his assistant, instead of him bringing it up, was alienating her. So she sat on the grandstand, alone once again. Only this time it hurt just a bit more to sit there by herself. It was all or nothing with Lando. Up and down. Stale than suddenly full speed. Don't be seen. Don't stand out. Don't be crushing so obviously. She gathered intrusive thoughts who kept her company while people around her screamed with joy and anger depending on the situation. She never expected to feel to strange in Barcelona. Hell, she'd been looking forward to it for days, so why was it like this?

Lando was over the moon and head over heels. Everything clicked - his car, the team and Y/N was watching him from right here in on the track. He felt proud. Showing off was his normal personality trait, but that had skyrocketed this week to abnormal heights. There was just something in the air making life intoxicating. He was handing out smiles as it if was oxygen and the crowds absorbed as if their life depended on it. He took all he had and gave everything to the quali. Got in the zone and the wind flew in his direction.

"P1, Lando, P1. Congrats." were dry words his engineer said as soon as everything was set. Lando could carry the whole team excitement wise in that moment, so he didn't need encouragement from him. "Yes!!! Yes, baby, Yes, here we go! I can't believe it!" He beat them all. An achievement he needed so much after all that hard work. P1 meant at least a chance of a podium. He was quick and a good driver - and he finally believed it again.

Y/N wondered for a moment if this was what if felt like being dead. Watching and not interfering. She immediately slapped herself mentally for being so overly dramatic. Just like Lando, she also had big dreams of her future and it felt like a privilege to be there to see her crush crushing his. No, this was crazy, she was overhelmed by the energy the crowds around produced and by the obvious joy that streamed out of Lando during post race interview. She chucked and yelled a loud "Oh come on!" when he said that that the result was great, but the real battle was tomorrow. If only he could stop sometimes for a moment and enjoy it while it lasted, she thought. There was just a tiny tiny part of her, that wished this had happened the race before. Just so that she could have more time with. Surely he was suppose to have meetings and getting ready and stuff. Not exactly an envinroment for late night fucks and talks.

He joined her in his hotel room later that evening. Overjoyed, excited, slightly nervous and repeating his jokes about Leclerc 2023 season and how he will surely follow his steps a bit too much. Y/N sat there, listening and having Lando explain to her the whole deal, as she was quite new to this stuff. He was wrapped in his own head, for very obvious reasons. Y/N felt as if he was and also was not there at the same time. She was quiet and let her anxiety out only once he fell asleep. Honestly, what was the point of her being here. The unspoken hope about their potential future she held deep inside was slowly slipping away. She felt selfish, hated herself for it and yet knew her needs were valid. The initial excitement with which she arrived here leaving like a long distance friend on a Sunday afternoon. Lando's mind would usually run wild before a race. This time it was Y/N. She was happy to be the one to share his afternoon and night. Her skin just crawled when the thought that this was just a casual hook up for him entered her mind. Who was the one keeping him company on the next race?

//

Once Lando kissed he goodbye and quickly left for his pre race work, she buried herself in her phone, doomscrolling endlessly. At one point she debated not going to the race. Nobody would notice. But she would feel like an absolute idiot if she stayed there. What exactly were the expectation coming here? That he would have all the time for her? She picked herself up and went, now really wanted to slap herself. She was in Barcelona on a F1 race for god sake.

Once again she went and this time tried to sink in the atmosphere of the grandstands and focus less on what might be happening in the paddock and around Lando. When she opened up more the the world around, the world responded and threw a group of young Spanish fans in her way. They took her as her own - and there was no one to complain that she spend her time at the race with Alonso fans.

//

Podium. Podium when he knew that she was there watching. Was there more to wish for? His team surrounded him overjoyed, the fans were ecstatic and ever the journalists seemed to be on his side for this once. There was a post race interview, then Netflix and lots of autographs. Lando felt truly rewarded for all the hard work he put into his racing. The team insisted on Lando joining them at the club, it would have probably been impossible to avoid it, they were determined to celebrate. He barely found a moment to breathe - let alone check his phone, where a celebratory text from Y/N was sitting among 70 other texts.

Minutes turned into hours and usually patient Y/N was losing it. There was nothing else for her to do than join her newly found pack at the bar in the city, where they continued after the race. They were typically Spanish in their ways, so the energy was high and contagious. She shared her frustrations without revealing Lando's identity, because she just had to get it out somehow. Two shots was the maximum she allowed herself in order not to start drunk calling and throwing away her last piece of dignity she felt towards herself.

"I don't wanna know. I don't need to see him on instagram wrapped around someone else. Just tell me if he texts me back," she said and handed her phone to one of the girls, the one that seemed to get it the most.

It was intoxicating to watch his usually stressed teammates and crew finally relaxed and happy. He'd been at the team for a good chuck of years now, these people were family. Few times during the night a thought entered Lando's mind. He should have just brought Y/N here. It would have been fine. So there would be some headline tomorrow. Then his memories of his exes crying at the horrific comments his "so called fans" were capable of leaving nonstop. He read her text after three or something hours, not making anything out of his response time, deciding to wait for a proper quiet moment to record a voice message.

"I only smoke when I want to feel bad," she laugher while sharing a cigarette outside the bar filled with singing people.

"Chica, you have a voice message!" her designated phone guardian exclaimed. Received 28 minutes ago. Great.

She listened to the message for two times, having trouble deciding whether she felt happy or angry. Nothing personal, nothing specific, just a happy Lando talking in the same tone he uses for interviews, she watched him enough to see the difference, asking about her whereabouts, making it sound like he just assumed that she is back at the hotel. His James Dean smile felt bitter in her memory. Her own joy that she felt when listening to his voice was the thing making her mad. He just had such an upper hand.

She took a few minutes to reply. Why the hell not. "I'm in the centre of Barcelona with some people." was the only thing she wrote. Her dirty little secret fantasy turned out to be sad undermining dream. She was leaving tomorrow evening and felt as if Lando hadn't even asked her how she was doing in the two days she'd been here. Somehow, she felt further from him than when there were miles and oceans between them.

It's hard to tell the note from a text sometimes, but Lando has shared hundreds of texts with this girl. So he knew something was up.

"Can I come and see you?" he asked straightforward.

"If you want to...but there are like people here, so..?" she replied after another pause and sent her location.

//

The taxi drive dragged for minutes and Lando sighed demonstratively to let his annoyance out of the system, having little to no care of what the driver thought of him.

"I'm right outside the bar, in the alleyway," he finally sent once he arrived and got a photo of his POV. She took her time, letting him evaluate what had been happening even more. Was the magic gone? Did she stopped caring? Or worse, did she never start?

He was not exactly relieved when he spotted her coming his way. There was an uncharacteristically strange look on her face.

"Hey," she said with no clear emotion for Lando to read.

"Hey," he replied passively and carefully.

"Congrats again," she said quietly. "Sorry I dragged you out of the party," she said honestly. There was a sudden wave of guilt making her feel very small. She stopped unusually far away from Lando, not exactly where a person who has shared his bed that night would. They stood far away from crowds, but blended perfectly into the street life scenery. Just a guy and a girl.

"Is everything like, alright?"

"I don't know. It's just...guess I find it harder to stay behind and pretend I don't know you than I thought I would," she managed to slowly voice her biggest concern. There was a part of her that was proud for that.

"Ok. I'm sorry it's so unfortunate. I guess I act a little different when I'm afraid of being watched." She had to admit he was right, it he had stepped out of the alleyway, there would be a crowd immediately. that must have been really suffocating at times.

"No, you don't have to say you're sorry or anything. I get it. I'm a regular girl, just some student. No model or a daughter of a driver or whatever. I obviously don't fit into your life. It would be crazy of me to assume that anyway. And I got carried away with my little crush on you. It's my own expectations that let me down, not you or anything. I get it, I just need some time to process and get over it." Her voice was sweet and honest with no other undertones. He had not seen this emotion on her face before. He found it fascinating that the more he saw her, the more types of expressions he was allowed to observe.

In that moment, Lando was more than sure of where he wanted the conversation to go. There wasn't a thing that would make his second guess. This realization makes one nonchalantly braver than usual. "But I don't want you to get over it. The last you are to me is ordinary. Or some fucking shit like that." The concept of her thinking this was really fucking up his own head.

"Lando, I can see this thing we do is making me someone I don't want to be. An insecure sucker for a drop of your attention. It's honestly embarassing," she stated. "I like Lando, don't give a fuck that you happen to be Lando Norris."

He was shocked how she managed to hit him where it hurt without even realizing it.

"But that's the thing. I'm obsessed with you. Me, Lando. But Lando Norris does not leave when you enter the room. I know the price of that better than anyone and I just want to protect you for as long as I can. The thing I'd love to do the most is to introduce you to my friends and definitely not talk to them about how amazing time I have when I'm with you."

Y/N took a moment to take in what he was trying to say to her. She was took busy getting through her own thoughts that she almost did not listen to his. Lando took a step closer to her, knowing that if he fucks this up, they will hardly see each other again. There was no room for any cat and mouse games. Destiny set them up for the level hard. It's not like they will bump into each other in the paddock.

"I want to enjoy what we have in private for as long as we can. I want to get to know you and have the space to do so. I'm terrified of someone giving you any hate," he whispered. Y/N has probably never felt as stupid as she had then.

"I don't know why I'm so weird. And overreacting."

"You're not," he said firmly, kicking himself mentally for not taking more of an effort when he had her here. "I'm sorry for neglecting you. And for hiding you. It's definitely not because I find you not enough," he said, disgusted with the word enough leaving his mouth.

Once some barriers are broken, it's impossible to take a step back.

"We don't need to parade around, Lando. I get what you're saying and all," she said.

"Yes. Not until we both feel ready, if that's ok."

"Great, " she smile. There was silence for a moment. Lando's mind was suddenly clear as a day.

"Y/N. I want to see you again. And more often. Not as a fuck buddy or a special friend. How do you feel about that?"

"Like what...like dating or something?"

"No," he smiled, seeing how it made her all awkward and tight. "Not something. Proper full on dating, all in. Let it flow and see where we end up." It was like a weight she had no idea she carried lifter of her.

"Yes," she replied and bit her lip to hide her excitement.

He smiled back. "Ok, honey". With that he kissed his newly found girlfriend. New set of slightly different butterflies entered the chat.

"So I guess I'll have to change your contact name, huh?" he asked with his signature cheeky grin.

"To what?"

"How did you put it, sucker for my attention?"

She hit him playfully and he responded with another kiss.

epilogue p1

__________________________________________________

Tagged all those who like to suffer: @prudyhoo @anuksunamon @sagestack @esquerkaren @ushygushybaby @ilove-tswizzle @thehufflepuffavenger1  @superlegend216 @mehrmonga @lovely-blackinnon @mylifeihate1029 @lausdigitaldiary @tswizzleismother @goldenharrysworld @llando4norris @classiclitfreak  @ophcelia @leclerc13 @starmanv @k4r1402 @biitch-with-wifi @drunk-teens-doing-drugs @starmanv @formulaal

[nonasuch]

so I went to New York this weekend!

I tagged along with some friends who were going to the Five Points Toy Festival in Brooklyn, and convinced them to come see Sleep No More with me on Thursday night, since it’s allegedly closing at some point and I’ve always wanted to go.

And since they had to head back to DC a day before me, I decided to get another ticket for the Sunday matinee on my own.

Unfortunately my cards were a 6 and a 7, so I missed a few things right at the beginning, but I’m still really happy with my experience. My first show I spent a bunch of time following the Tailor, which I really enjoyed — he had a duet with the Taxidermist in his shop where they played tug-of-war with his measuring tape, and another with the speakeasy bartender. I saw Hecate eat her dinner and sing “Is That All There Is” in the 4th floor bar, and the Porter try to save Lady Macduff from the poisoned milk and then do an amazing dance in the bag check room. Plus a bunch more small lovely moments that I caught in passing as I explored.

My second show I had my bearings a little bit more. I got to chat with “Benji” (who I now know was actually Will Boyajian!) in the Manderly before my card was called, which was really fun!

Before this trip, I did do some advance reading, so I’d have a general sense of what to expect and wouldn’t be totally lost. This also gave me an idea for a little art project: I made a set of papier-mâché eggs (using a trashed copy of Macbeth for the paper) with thematically appropriate prizes inside, sealed with a wax seal and a red ribbon you could pull to open them. Basically fancier versions of the mystery eggs I have at the shop. I made eight, because that was all I could fit in my dress pockets. The prizes were:

a glass jar of vintage mother-of-pearl buttons

a glass vial with a dried flower inside, sealed with wax

another sealed vial with a fossil shark’s tooth

a tiny bell jar with mini (fake) butterflies on pins

a brooch made from a vintage medal ribbon and vintage keys

a tiny glass bird

a little bag of vintage game pieces

a wooden acorn with more tiny treasures inside it

I ended up giving “Benji” the shark tooth egg, which turned out to be perfect because he said he collects shark teeth! The others I saved until I got inside; I wanted to be careful about making sure I could give them out without interrupting anything.

I was super lucky to have some time entirely alone with the Tailor while he sewed up the Taxidermist’s coat, so I just set his egg (the buttons) on the corner of his desk and stepped back, and he tucked it into his jacket pocket when he was done.

I watched the Taxidermist make his bone sculpture assemblage and then smash it in frustration, so I hid an egg under one of the skulls after he left. I did get to see him find it when he came back. Same with Hecate, when I left an egg under her fan on her table at the wrecked bar.

The speakeasy bartender invited me to play a card game with him. I lost, but I gave him an egg as a thank-you.

I watched the Porter make a paper boat and blow it off the edge of the counter towards me. I caught it, and tried to give it back with his egg. He took the egg, but gave me back the boat. And I caught the witch in the green dress in a quiet moment in the lobby, and handed her an egg across the counter.

I realized I’d accidentally given the Taxidermist the wrong egg, but I managed to catch him at the last possible second, before he disappeared after the walkouts, gave him the right one, and told him I’d given him Malcolm’s egg by mistake. (Some of them were labeled, but the lighting is so low and my labels were tiny).

Aside from my self-imposed side quest, I got to see a bunch of scenes I’d missed last time. I caught the rave, I followed Agnes for a while, I saw a lovely waltz between Duncan and Mrs. Danvers in the ballroom. I kind of forgot the fifth floor existed, oops.

Afterwards, I was totally exhausted and must have looked it, because someone let me into the reserved section so I could sit until the crowd thinned out and I felt a little less wiped. I have some really cool souvenirs — my mask, and the paper boat, and I bought a poster too.

If they extend it into the fall, I’ll totally go again.