#*insert blue christmas joke here*

[terranometry]

breaking bad christmas episode real

(a.k.a. gustavo fring's plan to increase morale)

[iamthecomet]

-flops down in your inbox and rolls around-

Happy the day after Christmas (not to date this ask lmao), I come bearing the gift of "and there was only one bed" style Dew/your ghoul of choice shenanigans.

So, set-up: Dew and -insert ghoul here- had to go away on some ministry business, maybe they went with a whole group of people or it's just the two of them alone, but either way they wind up having to stay a couple days longer due to the weather being shit back home, making it kind of risky to head back now as they'd be driving into a storm or something.

Anyway, they wind up having to move hotels since the one they're at is booked solid past their original check out date, and they wind up at a smaller hotel -paid for on the ministry's dime, because neither of them feel like they should have to given the circumstances- which leads to the whole, "and there was only one bed" scenario.

Originally, they both had separate rooms, it was a small enough group that the ministry was like, "Yeah, sure, have as much space as you need." but now they've only got one room, and, man, is it weird sharing a confined space with someone else, especially if the two are maybe not on great terms at the moment.

Maybe they fought or they're just not sure about each other yet so it's uncomfortable, but either way one of them is constructing a pillow barrier in the bed on day one... which eventually turns into them spooning on day three or four depending on how long you wanna drag it out for.

Added bonus: Since they're technically not working or on call for anything, they have time to do some shopping/touristy things they didn't get to chance to do on the initial trip, and keep getting asked if they're a couple, because they're carrying each others bags, giving opinions on outfits along the lines of, "Yeah, but it covers up your ass. You have a nice ass, you should flaunt it more." and, "Oh, shut it, you look lovely. Blue is a good color on you!"

Also sharing their food, holdings hands -"SO WE DON'T LOSE EACH OTHER IN THE CROWD!"- and watching other people on dates and going, "Aw, I wanna do that..."

Something, something, Dew doing cheesy romantic gestures to feed into the "joke" that they're on a date, getting the same cheesy romantic gestures in return as a "joke" and both of them catching feelings and nervously realizing that maybe they... they like that kind of stuff when it's that person doing it.

Anywho.

-flips onto my front and sleeps-

*tip-toeing around, trying not to wake you* You're giving me Aeon/Dew thoughts. Dew not so sure about the new quint ghoul. Being stuck with him on this trip to begin with has been frustrating and difficult. Trying to navigate his feelings about there being a new quint at all AND trying to make sure Aeon doesn't do anything stupid since he's still adjusting to life topside. (His glamor only slips once though, Dew has to give him that). And I think Aeon's inexperience is what leads Dew to be like "ok fine let's go do some stuff". Might as well take advantage of their time. But also show the new ghoul a thing or two. Let him buy himself some stuff he actually likes. But also, Dew is glued to him. He's not losing the new ghoul. He's not having that over his head. So they are attached at the hip. Whispering to each other and sitting close together at restuarant tables. Always touching. Less and less pillows in the barrier every night. You could even throw my favorite part of the "one bed" trope in there. Aeon shivering on his side of the bed. Curled up tight, but so cold he's shaking the bed and keeping Dew up. So, Dew just grabs him. Curls an arm around his waist and hauls him backwards, his back to Dew's unnaturally warm chest. Dew ramping up his heat little just to make sure the other ghoul stays warm.

He tells himself it's just because he can't have Aeon freezing to death on his watch--he doesn't want to get sent back to the pit. But really, it's just nice to have someone to hold.

[samuel-de-champagne-problems]

Project Christmas Match Up

Summary: Penelope insists on setting up Spencer and Derek's latest home improvement client for the holidays. Afterall, she's convinced they are soulmates.

Word Count: 2.5K

CW: Alcohol use & making out ( fem reader)

Note: here’s the second fic! hope you enjoy let me know what you think in my inbox. Ahh I'm so excited for this one! Thanks to Grecy for reading early and telling that it was not awful :) Also this self-insert is very self-centered with the librarian reader and the cats named after literary figures and the peach perfume so I apologize for that...

Project Christmas Match Up

“Honestly, Derek, you need to add some kind of decorations for her. Maybe a Christmas tree or offer to hang up Christmas lights. This is my favorite client of yours and I rather not lose her,” Penelope said. She held a glass of white wine in one had and gestured wildly with the other hand.

Derek sighed. He had his feet resting on the coffee table as Penelope talked eagerly. She was dressed in Christmas pajamas and went the extra mile of convincing him to match her as well. Spencer, when he walked in, smirked knowingly when he clocked their matching outfits.

“Pen, I’m not going to hound the client. She bought the house and was gracious enough to invite us over for dinner there. I love you, my love, but that doesn’t mean we have to be friends with every client that I get.”

Penelope rolled her eyes, throwing Spencer a look akin to a life raft. “He’ll agree with me,” she said, pointing at Spencer. He held his glass of brandy in his right hand and a jar of trail mix in the other. “He always agrees with me.”

“I do,” Spencer said sheepishly, dodging the popcorn that Derek threw at him playfully, “Hey! I mean, it’s Penny, Derek. Besides, who’s this client that she wants you to bring a Christmas tree to?”

“Oh, Spencer,” Penelope said with a twinkle in her eye, “She’s absolutely perfect. She’s a librarian. Bought the house specifically because there’s this little porch to the side that’s almost all windows. She said it’s perfect for reading all day on the weekends. Oh! And she has cats. They are the absolute cutest things in the world.”

“As you can see,” Derek said, “My wife has a crush on my client.” He said with a chuckle that turned into an exaggerated groan when Penelope elbowed him in his side.

“She sounds great.” Spencer said, “Uh, what library does she work at?” He asked, tossing a couple pieces of trail mix into his mouth.

“The Westfield Public Library,” Penelope said, “You know the one that you bring Henry to all the time for storytime and those STEM workshops.” She smirked as Derek rolled his eyes.

“You’re so smooth,” Derek joked, giving Penelope a side glance. “Penelope seems to think that you and Y/N would be, in her words, ‘totally perfect, totally soulmates, so in love that it makes everyone look like they hate each other.’ She’s rather confident in her abilities,” Derek finished. Penelope slipped into his side comfortably as she sipped on her wine.

“Y/N?” Spencer bit his lip nervously. “She’s the children’s librarian who runs storytime and…”

“STEM workshops?” Penelope finished, a gleam in her eye revealing she was hiding more than she knew, “Come on, Spence. She’s perfect for you. She named her freaking cats after literary characters. Her book collections, if her being totally adorable and pretty and smart and kind isn’t enough for you to love her then that’s totally going to make you crumble.”

“So she’s talked about me?” Spencer said, a blush peppering his cheeks. If Penelope or Derek called it out, he would have to blame the brandy. Because the alternative would be too much to bear. “Like just randomly, out of the blue?”

“So you do like her,” Penelope giggled, “See, Der. I told you they’d be perfect. I mean, tell him how she gushed about him the other day when the inspector came over. She made him mini freaking tarts, Spence. You have a sweet tooth! See that’s another reason why you two are just perfect for each other. Tell him, baby.” Penelope prodded as Derek held his hands up in protest.

Derek stood up much to Penelope’s annoyance and Spencer’s alarm. “I’ve decided to stay out of my wife’s matchmaking. But I will say that Spencer’s ears are turning red, which means he’s got a crush.”

Spencer’s face morphed into shock and embarrassment. His cheeks tinged further red and any attempt at hiding his feelings about Y/N proved to be futile. Spencer sipped his brandy, desperately hoping he would be able to cling to some level of calmness as his friends discussed his love life at length.

“She’s nice, I suppose. I mean she’s really good with the kids at storytime. And she knits sweaters for Virginia Woolf and Emily Dickinson.” Spencer continued, turning his head to the side as Derek and Penelope casted him looks of confusion. “She, uh, smells nice too. Like peaches and mango.”

“Those are her cats. The cats that are named after literary figures.”

Penelope slapped Derek playfully on his well-defined arm, “He knows the names of her cats. They’ve talked about knitting cat sweaters. He thinks about her being good with kids. He thinks she smells nice. Like freaking peaches. Peaches, Der! Come on, Derek. It’s all I want for Christmas. My metaphorical baby brother deserves the best person in the world. And that’s Y/N.”

“We both know that’s not the only present you want, angel face.” Derek told Penelope. “Dude,” Derek said, turning to Penelope“I get you’re scared or whatever that you’re not enough for her. Or anyone,” he continued, “But she’ll be the lucky one if you ask me.”

Spencer’s lips turned upward in a hesitant smile. “I’m going to have to disagree with that one.” He drank the rest of his brandy, “And I’m going to need another one of these before I fully agree with Penelope’s scheming.”

Penelope told him what to wear. 

Spencer reluctantly agreed, knowing his friend well enough to understand that it wasn’t worth the wrath of Penelope Garcia. He tugged at his tie, a chocolatey brown argyle pattern with maroon accents. She instructed him to wear a light pink button down shirt and brown corduroy pants with it because it brought out his eyes. 

The winter chill seemed to go right through him. So even though Penelope didn’t tell him with a sweater or cardigan to wear it with, Spencer decided to pull out his coziest one. It was dark brown and complimented his pants, shirt, and tie without being too matchy. 

Spencer couldn’t remember a time when he paid so much attention to his appearance. He hardly got hit on when did frequent bars, especially if he tagged along with Derek. For a majority of his life, Spencer found himself indifferent to his appearance. But as he stood on Y/N’s porch stoop, he couldn’t think about anything but how his hair looked or if teeth were too crooked or if his tie looked like something an old widower would wear to bingo in the church basement. 

Luckily, the door opened, letting out the warmth and light from the house, before Spencer’s mind could spiral down more. 

“There you are,” Y/N said, “I was beginning to think that I got stood up completely.” She said with a smile. Y/N wiped her hands on the cloth napkin she held as she ushered Spencer inside. 

“Hi, Y/N.” Spencer smiled. “Here’s something for you. It’s small, but I saw it at Goode’s Used Books and thought about you.” 

“You thought about me, Dr. Reid,” Y/N whispered, taking the carefully wrapped package in her hands, “I have to say that’s quite the compliment coming from you. And your wrapping skills. I just might want to keep you around forever.” 

Spencer’s heart just about stopped. He felt it leap out of his chest and land directly into Y/N’s hands. He let her hold it, praying to whatever deity of love and passion that she’d hold it like a treasure. 

“Uh, wrapping presents is just basic math. It’s geometry.” Spencer explained. He held his coat over one arm as he watched Y/N open the present. She carefully ripped away the Christmas tree wrapping paper to reveal the gift. 

“Is this…Virigina Woolf’s illustrated biography?” She asked, “You didn’t, oh. Spencer.” 

Pridefully, Spencer smiled as he took in Y/N’s ridiculously happy expression. He nearly died of happiness himself as she tore open the book, flipping through page and page of colorful illustrations and carefully written text. 

Spencer felt Y/N’s arms wrap around his torso and the flatness of the book shoved into his chest as Y/N hugged him tightly. Unsure how to even breathe with her that close, Spencer decided that the best course of action would be to hug her back. He followed her, wrapping his arms around Y/N’s body and breathing her peachy, mango perfume. Spencer smelled it in her hair, he felt her heart beating as fast, if not faster than his. And for the first time in his life he felt light. 

“That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever gotten me,” Y/N said, pulling back from the embrace, “You’re going to make me cry.” 

“I’m sorry,” Spencer said, unsure what he was apologizing for exactly, “From now on I know presents make you cry.” He teased with a smirk. He wasn’t sure where the confidence came from, but was eager to see where it led. 

“Spence,” Y/N groaned, resting her forehead against his chest, seemingly not wanting to stop touching him, “Let me get you a drink so we can move from the foyer.” 

Spencer nodded, following Y/N into the kitchen. It was painted a warm yellow with daisies on the backsplash. He had yet to see the rest of the house, but already knew that it would perfectly fit Y/N. Spencer watched as Y/N poured him a glass of red wine. 

“Derek and Penelope on their way?” Spencer asked, hoping to keep the conversation going, “Penelope was pretty eager about your famous roast chicken and raspberry tarts all week at work.” 

Y/N gave Spencer a quizzical look, “Penelope called me three days ago and canceled. She said that Hank had the flu,” 

“Well Derek texted me a half hour ago that he was bringing a game for all of us to play. He said he was bringing something to pop culture so it's fair for everyone, besides me of course.” Spencer explained. 

Y/N handed Spencer his glass of wine, “Do you realize what happened,” Y/N said, “They set us up on a sort of blind date.” 

Spencer felt heat rush to his cheeks. He was unable to cast blame on the untouched alcohol in his glass. A sudden rush of embarrassment flooded Spencer as he realized exactly what Derek and Penelope bailing meant: he would be alone with the girl that he’s been pining after for a year and a half with enough wine to make him say things he kept buried deep inside. 

“Ah,” Spencer said, unsure what to say. He’s usually clueless in social situations that he’s familiar with, but he could confidently say that he’d never found himself getting hoodwinked into a blind date yet. “Well, we can just make the best of it, I suppose.” 

“Yes, I mean,” Y/N said, clearly attempting to not sound too eager, “A date with you sounds wonderful. I mean, if I had to get set up on a blind date or any date for that matter, I’d want it to be you.” 

“Really?” Spencer said, shocked. He sipped his wine and licked his lips tasting the leftover booze. “You mean that, Y/N?” His voice sounded deeper, more confident than the one he recognized as his own. 

“Of course I do.” She said, leaning in close to Spencer and placing her hand on his chest. “If you haven't realized yet, you’re pretty great and I’m kind of crazy about you.” She whispered, the mixture of sweet liquor and peaches clouding Spencer’s mind. He brought his hands to her waist, rubbing soft circles against her clothed hip. 

“I had a bet.” Spencer whispered back, setting the wine glass on the counter. “With myself, wondering how far I’d make it into this night before I needed to touch you, to kiss you, to feel your body against mine.” 

“And how far did you guess? Dessert? Coffee? Did you think about whisking me away from Penelope and Derek? Kissing me secretly, even though they knew exactly what was happening.” 

“In the car I finally decided on after dinner. Maybe the wine would help my confidence, but to tell the truth, Y/N it was when you opened the door.” 

“For me it was when I watched you walk up to the porch. You look really handsome in that jacket and cardigan.” Y/N confessed. 

The light flashed before Spencer’s eyes, and Y/N’s kiss on the top of his cheek burned a hole that instantly left him craving more. He’d let her draw any pattern she desired, as long as her kisses are the medium and he is her canvas. 

Spencer cupped her face, fingers craving the feel of her skin. He met her for a kiss and together they created something daringly beautiful and carefully passionate. Y/N kissed him back with the fervor and intensity that bubbled between them at least a year. Spencer grabbed Y/N’s wool sweater and slipped his hands underneath it as he pushed her against the counter. He smirked as he felt her mouth morph into a moan at the feeling of his coarse fingertips against her warm skin. 

Together, the pair of them formed a delicate bubble. It was fragile that Spencer knew any sudden movement would pop it. But it had the potential to build up into something strong, something beautiful, something made to last. 

“Spence,” Y/N says, her voice heady with desire and lips well bitten and colored from his kisses. “The oven…I want to do that again. I want to do that a lot, but the tart. I can’t let it burn.” She explained. 

Spencer chuckled, quickly kissing Y/N on her forehead as she slipped from his warm embrace to take the dessert out of the oven. Awkwardly, Spencer attempted to adjust his pants, hiding just how much the kiss affected him. 

“Hope you have a good appetite,” Y/N said, placing the tart on the oven to cool next to the roast chicken. “There’s enough food here for like five people. And it’s just us.” 

“And Virigina Woolf and Emily Dickinson.” Spencer mentioned, smiling as Y/N rolled her eyes teasingly, “You were too occupied with jumping my bones to introduce me to your cats, Y/N.” He teased her. 

“Spencer!” Y/N said, sounding aghast. She threw the kitchen towel at him laughing as he failed to catch it. “Well, you should meet them now, you know while we’re not occupied by the other things” She said, the flirtatious smirk on her well kissed lips making Spencer blush at the plethora of possibilities at hand.

taglist

@reidsbookclub @reidslovely @coldbrewat3am @fightingdragonswithwho @hotchandspencearedilfs @sadgirlml @goldentournesol @spencerslibrary @foxy-eva @paperbackprettyboy @reidselle @alexxavicry @justlivinginadaydream @reidsmilf @givemeth @reidslibrarybook @mrs-dr-reid @spencerreidsmommy @spencer-reid-wonderland @radiant-reid bb

[tragic-shadows]

Mistletoe

Word Count: 2087

Warnings: None

Pairing: GibbsxReader

Summary: Abby’s noticed the tension between you and your boss. She decides to do something about it..

A/N: I meant to put this out actually on Christmas but my family is crazy. So anyways, merry Christmas!! 

"You're joking." You stared at the cardstock that lay on your keyboard that morning. "A Christmas party?" 

Tony laughed, "Oh Abby never jokes about parties." 

"Great." 

"Why, did you have other plans tonight? Going off to see that little boyfriend of yours." 

You rolled your eyes and pushed him away from you. "We broke up two weeks ago." 

"Oh. Sorry." 

"It's fine, I broke it off not him. He was an ass if I'm being completely honest. But yes, I did have plans tonight, my sister is coming into town and I have to pick him up at the airport." You gave him a little wink and took the card down to go talk to Abby.

-

-

-

When you got down to the lab you saw you weren't the only one questioning the lab tech about her impromptu invite. "Abby," Gibbs growled. "I hate going out on Christmas Eve."

"Well yeah, I know. That's kind of the point Gibbs. It's to get you out of your comfort zone and have some fun! And it's not Christmas Eve, it's Christmas Eve Eve. The day before Christmas Eve."

"Hey Abs," you thought best to insert yourself before they started getting mad. "So this really is tonight?"

"Yep!" And then her face fell. "Don't tell me you can't make it either?" You shrugged apologetically. "Awe Y/N!! Please I have a Christmas game for everyone to play and it's bad enough that Gibbs won't come." 

You look to your boss, "You're not going either?"

"Dinner with Diane."

You turned up your nose. "That sounds awful."

"Mhm. But Fornell is out of town and he saved my ass the last case so I owe him." Gibbs shrugged and turned out of the room.

Abby groaned. "Ugh this is going to be a disaster!" 

"Abby it'll be fine," you assure her. "It's two people." 

"I know I know but.. I had a plan. You're going to hate me for it." 

"I could never hate you. What was the plan?"

"To get you and Gibbs together." 

You gasped. "Abby- we've talked about this. No meddling! It's bad enough that it's my relationship you're messing with but the fact that it involves our boss is even worse."

"I know, I'm sorry Y/N I just can't stand the way you look at each other when your backs are turned. He looks like he just wants to tear your clothes off of you, and you.."

"Want to do the same, I'm very aware." The crush you had on your boss was less than ok, it was just bad. You were down bad. It started as thinking he was funny, or kind. You wanted to have lunch with him sometimes, maybe just sit next to him. Then you started getting nervous whenever he stood next to you, and you couldn't sit still whenever you were at his house. One day you had tripped and he had caught you and it was a full blown panic attack. And now you couldn't even be in the same room with him without your gaze wandering to his blue eyes. Some would describe them as icy but to you they were the color of a gentle summer sky. You couldn't hand him his coffee because if your fingers brushed you were sure that your heart would beat so fast it would explode. And you surely couldn't go over to his house. Just the idea that his bedroom was upstairs was enough to make you blush.

"I was going to plant some mistletoe and then get you guys drunk, very drunk, and see what would happen." 

You smirked actually kind of liking the idea of drunk kissing the man you had fallen in love with. "Tell you what. If you can get Gibbs out of dinner with Diane and get him to that party, I will be there. Promise."

Abby's face lit up. "Oh thank you thank you!!" She threw her arms around you and buried her face in your hair. "You are like- my favorite person- ever." She pulled away and rushed over to her station, grabbing a bowl. "Here take a name. It's for the secret Santa." 

You reached in and shuffled them around, pulling one out from the bottom and looking at it. 

"Is it someone good?? Don't tell me who but just tell me if you wanna switch."

You tried not to smile at the name on the list. Scrawled in Abby's neat handwriting was her own name. 'Abby S.' 

"No I think I'll keep it. If the night works out I know just what to get my person." 

-

-

-

The dress you had chosen was a long-sleeved, short green velvet dress. Paired with a black biker jacket, tights, and your black boots, it looked perfect. The party was being held at Ducky's, mostly because Abby's house wasn't exactly.. appropriate. Some people had a thing against axes that could fall from the walls at any moment. You had ordered an uber for yourself which would then be on its way to pick your sister up from the airport. You let yourself in to the grand house and were instantly met with the sound of Taylor Swift's Lover, the smell of baking gingerbread, and even the slight hint of wine. You placed your gift on the table with the others and went to find your lovely hostess. 

"Abby?" You stuck your head into the kitchen. 

"There you are!" She dusted flour off her hands and took of her apron. "I was beginning to think you weren't coming." She was wearing a sparkly black dress wit ha white sash that matched too well with the sparkly black Santa hat on her head.

"Of course I was coming, I was just a little late, as usual. Is he here yet?" 

Abby beamed, pointing out into the living room where the 'he' in question was standing. Gibbs wore a dark blue suit and a black tie. In one hand he held a glass of wine (which you didn't even know he drank) and the other was stuffed into a pocket. It was clear that such a social event was not his forte. He stood off to the side, looking more at the snow falling outside than the people inside.

"Hey, Abs I know you were going to try and get us drunk to make this work.. but I'd really rather not."

"Oh Y/N!" She stomped her foot. "Are you backing out??" 

"No of course not." You rolled your eyes. You were a lot of things but a quitter wasn't one of them. "Just look at him." You sighed, leaning against the doorframe. "I just wish he knew how much he meant to me. How much I long to kiss those lips and just be in one of his embraces. I want to lay my head on his shoulder and look into his eyes and tell him everything that he is."

"Well then do it!! Why don't you just call him over and walk under the mistletoe. He's been drinking that wine for the past 20 minutes, he has to be a little tipsy." 

You groaned. "Fine. Ok, I'll do it. Just cross your fingers for me please?"

"Always!" Abby pushed you across the floor, jumping up and down.

"Hey boss." You side up to him, leaning against the fireplace. "Enjoying the party? I thought you weren't going to be here tonight?"

"Since when do I enjoy parties, Y/L/N?" His blue eyes turned towards you. "And you? Said ya' weren't gonna be here either."

"Abby kind of forced me. Said there would be no party without me." You tightened your grip on your glass, trying your best not to let your arm brush against his. "So is it a party now?"

Gibbs let a chuckle slip from his lips. "Suppose so." He went to take a drink but he was already out of wine. "Wanna get a refill?" 

"Sure." You followed him into the kitchen, cringing slightly as you passed through the door that did not have the mistletoe hanging above it. "What are you drinking?"

"Whatever you're having. This wine stuff isn't for me."

"Yeah," you chuckled, taking his glass, "not for me either. I much prefer bourbon." 

"What?" Gibbs turned towards you, suddenly much more interested in the conversation. "Did ya' say bourbon?"

"Yeah? So?" You shuffled through the cabinet and pulled out a bottle of Weller Antique 107. "This good?" Gibbs opened and closed his mouth a few times before finally just settling on a nod.  "Here." you passed the glass over to him. As it changed hands your fingers touched, the interaction didn't go unnoticed by your boss. 

"Somethin' on your mind, Y/N?"

"Why would you ask that?" You bit back a smile.

"Know somethin' I don't?"

"What would that be?"

Gibbs let out a breath of disbelief. "What's your game?"

"My game?" This time you let out the breath. "No game, I just enjoy talking to you. Which is honestly funny if you think about it seeing as you're a man of so few words." You turned to see if you had gotten any reaction from him. His body language didn't tell you anything but his eyes did. They were filled with something that only Abby had noticed when he looked at you. "Can we talk somewhere that isn't so.." You cringed as some little kid rushed in-between you two. "Busy?" You followed him as he crossed the threshold of the kitchen. You were going to follow but you figured was now or never. You pulled his sleeve and he stopped walking. "You know what that is?" You pointed up at the plant hanging above the opening.

The side of Gibbs' mouth turned up and he looked down at you. "Ya' had this planed, didn't ya?" 

"Maybe." You put your head down, suddenly very self conscious. "I realize now that was probably not the best idea." 

"And why do ya' say that?" 

"Because it's the truth." 

Gibbs took a swig of his bourbon before putting it on the table beside the door opening. "Is it? Or is it just what ya' want everyone else to think?" At this point you had both forgotten the fact that there were other people in the room. "Do you care what other people think about you?"

You shrugged. "If I cared what other people thought would I have gotten you drunk and pulled you under the mistletoe?" 

"Sounds like somethin' Abby would've come up with."

"Who says she didn't?" You were only slightly aware of the distance that had been closed by the two of you. Gibbs' breath of wine, whiskey, and bourbon found its way to you. He smelled like sawdust and cinnamon, the dark coat only making his eyes look brighter. "Abby is a very.. smart… woman." You slowly trailed your hand up to the lapels of his jacket, hoping you were reading the situation correctly. "And you are a very smart man Leroy Jethro Gibbs." 

Your boss's hands had found there way up your back, one hand came up to meet your face, his finger tilting your chin up. "And you're a very smart woman, Y/N. So. You gonna tell me whether or not you wanna do this?"

"And what is this?" You searched his eyes for any sort of trick he was trying to pull.

"Wha'd do ya' want it to be?"

You licked your lips, watching as his eyes followed your tongue. "I think you know." You waited for half a second before gently pressing your lips to his. They were softer than you imagined, full of love and kindness that he couldn't say with words. Funny how his words came out of the same two things that made you melt so far to the floor. His calloused hands pulled you closer as your own fingers danced up and down his shirt, playing with his collar as he deepened the kiss. You wanted more and you thought he did too, but slowly, he pulled away.

"Not here," he whispered, his voice surely coming out raspier than he had planned. "I'll take ya' home, kay?"

"Home?"

"Ok, my house. Better?"

You nodded. "Mhm. But I'm staying for cookies and eggnog first."

Gibbs placed his hand on your back, guiding you to the front door. "I'll have Abby bring some over in the mornin'." 

You would be there in the morning. The thought made you trip over your own feet, a laugh escaping your lips as Jethro guided you out the door. 

TAGS: @aleck-cross @ah-blossom @ilovemark1951  @marennnx @originalsoulcollector @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @kittenlittle24 @twilightlover2007 @whoreforhondo @pinkcrystal44 @marvelslut16 

[proustianlesbian]

*i forgot to do my reviews for ep 3 and 4 of ft during both weeks smh.

episode 3 : very sweet vacation at the see also i was not aware of the joseph mccarthy and roy cohn gay allegations (not together). chokbar de bz like we say in french.

[insert here abby lee miller looking around her gif].*

diversity wins i guess, the anticommunist prosecutor who ruined so many lives is jewish AND gay. like tbh i didn't know at all because it wasn't written on his wikipedia french bio (but him bringing his mom to parties was though). like i thought the jokes about him and schine were just because theses environnement are full of men. i love the lightning on this show but it really stroke me during the scene where marcus walks in the alley at night. the costumes are so beautiful, i love the cuts of their suits.

*episode 4 : loved the christmas episode too. i knew mary's colleague was plotting something since episode one's ending. but also i'm scared for 80s timeline tim :(*

i love the actor of roy cohn also. like he's serving. serving conservative homophobic self-hating jewish but serving nonetheless (i'm not a irl roy cohn stan btw, will brill just absolutely serves as him). it was so sweet seeing tim and hawk being happy though (especially as i write those lines specifically right before the diffusion of the last episode). also small detail but it was interesting to see how even when the jewish person (here cohn) is on their side and does everything "right" to be accepted, people will still be antisemitic towards him (mccarthy and his wife).

episode 5 :

the scene of marcus and frankie on the bench ☹️☹️☹️ "i should have let him paint them red." killed me. i was so shocked by the death of senator smith though ??!! the scene where he looks at pictures with lucy was so sad in retrospect. also it's very funny seeing tim lurking around the mccarthy/cohn/schine trio. he's just a little guy. also lucy smith leave your husband and runaway with me !! i can make you happy queen ! she's so gorgeous and dresses so well i love her so much, and even more since this episode. i felt so sorry for her brother and how he gets no real help from anyone. and the last scene ☹️.

episode 6 :

lucy's outfits and hair are so gorgeous !! i really love what we saw her wearing in this episode's 1950s timeline, especially her baby blue and yellow dresses.

hawk being a daughter's father oh he's so real, kendall roy feminist icon coded to me.

the shot of tim in the police car with the back window showing hawk on the road is SICK. like i felt a pain in the heart. and i loved the last shot of hawk hugging jackson.

i kinda wish there was an episode in between 5 and 6 but at the same time it makes sense. we just didn't get used to hawk's children and had jackson for only one episode.

episode 7

an episode for the tim laughlin lesbian fans for real !! it broke my heart for the romance part but i could learn some things about harvey milk ! i'm not american so i didn't know he was murdered (or didn't remember it) but i read on wikipedia that he was jewish too ! i really love the costumes of the 70s, they're all so beautiful and fitting for the characters :'). i love all the small details in the sets and decorations, each of the era have a unique vibe ! i'm absolutely terrified for tomorrow's episode, i'm not ready to see them go at all !!

[orangeinecstasy]

film fest ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟjosh jenkinson

paring: josh x fem!oc

summary: film fest date with josh!

a/n: little josh blurb because i love him sm. part two?

wc: < 1k

*reblogs, likes, and feedback are greatly appreciated!!

My foot bounced gently as I sat on my bed, trying to figure out what to wear. Today was the first time that I was going out with this guy, Josh. My friend had set up the whole thing telling me we would be perfect together. I'd met him several times, and he was cute and kind of quiet. So at that time, I thought, fuck it, I might as well. But now, as I'm sitting on my bed, staring into my closet, the feeling of what I had gotten myself into sunk in. 

"Fuck!" I yell out in frustration before falling back onto my bed. "Why do I do this to myself?" my words were muffled as my hands covered my face. Something as simple as picking out an outfit became so hard just because of a cute boy. It was fucking bullshit. 

I prop myself up on my elbows, trying to think of what we would do that night so I could pick out a good outfit. "Okay, so first is the film festival in the park. That means I should probably wear jeans and bring a jacket or something, but still wear a cute top."

I stand up, stretching a bit before rummaging through my closet. I decided on a pair of dark wash wide-leg jeans and a shirt that said bottoms up that depicted a woman bending down and placing something on a table. Over the shirt, I slipped on a grey jacket, then layered my favorite leather jacket over it. My makeup was already done from earlier in the day, just something simple that let the freckles on my skin peek through while still enhancing my features. I touched it up a bit, darkening the smoked-out eyeliner slightly before grabbing my bag and slipping on some tennis shoes. 

The night had a slight chill but nothing unbearable. I looked down at the time on my phone, deciding to text Josh and let him know I was going to the park. 

Hey! I should be at the park in like 10 minutes.

He quickly responded, Cool! Can't wait to see you :) 

I smiled down at my phone. He's so cute. Shifting the bag on my shoulder, I started my journey to the park. As I got closer, I could see where the large projector screen had been set, a group of people scattered in front of it, lying on blankets or sitting on chairs. String lights were strung up along vending booths, the gate surrounding the park, and some of the large oak trees growing from the ground - giving it an almost fairy-like atmosphere. 

My phone vibrates in my pocket. Taking it out, I see Josh's name flash across the screen. I answer, "Hey!" 

"Hey!" he responds, "I just wanted to let you know I'm here. If you're not yet, there's no rush. The movies don't start for another fifteen minutes. I'm standing in front of the tree wrapped in blue Christmas lights." I could tell that he was nervous from his voice, but it only added to his sweetness. 

"Ahh, okay, I think I'll see you. Wait, raise your arm or something." He does so. 

I pull the phone away from my ear. "Josh!" I yell out, and he turns in my direction, waving as I walk over. Our arms wrap naturally around each other as we hug each other tightly. "This place is super beautiful. You have good taste." he smiles, arm moving from my waist to my shoulder as the two of us walk towards the screen. 

"I'm glad you like it. I usually come to this alone every year because the lads aren't that inserted in short films." I lean into his warmth. The multicolored light cast beautifully along his face as we walk. "Ahh, I get that. But, unfortunately, only the elite can have a LetterBox account." We laughed at my awful joke before finding a spot in the middle of the crowd. 

Opening my bag, I pulled out the blanket from inside, laying it on the ground to give us a dirt-free place to sit. The two of us lay side by side, close enough to feel the warmth wafting off our bodies. We chatted about various topics, from playing the guitar to family to what it was like for us growing up. It was so natural to talk to him and lovely to see more of his personality. The longer we talked, the more shyness melted away from his persona. I'm glad he could be comfortable enough around me to be more expressive. 

Soon enough, the film festival actually started the chatter between the two of us slowly quieting down. However, when we were between the second to last and the last film, Josh spoke up. 

"Hey, Gia," I turned to face him. "Yeah, what's up?" I prop my head on my hand, allowing me to view him better. "I just wanted to let you know that you look magnificent tonight." He moves some hair from my face as he speaks. "Thank you." smiling, I lean over, giving him a soft kiss on the cheek. "Would you like to do this some other time? Go out with me, I mean." nodding, and my smile grows wider. "Yeah, I'd like that a lot." 

[btwimkindagay]

About me

Thanks @littledreamling for the tag

Nickname: Usually Breezy! My first name is a place name, so some of my friends call me by other place names (but more commonly acquaintances who think they are funnier than they are 🙄)

Sign: Sagittarius sun, Taurus moon, Aquarius rising. I hope that doesn't give away all my secrets

Height: 5'7 or 170cm!

Last thing I googled: "Wilfred Owen Letter to Wife poem". It's actually called "The Letter"

Song stuck in my head: I don't have one at the moment which I'm grateful for because I have a headache which feels like someone is trying to lobotomise me through my left eye. (I've taken some painkillers so I'm just being dramatic until they kick in)

Followers: 138! Thanks to everyone for politely waiting out the Goncharov phase

Amount of sleep: I regularly get 9-10 hours of sleep because otherwise I feel so bad 😥 I am envious of people who need less because for me 8 hours and 4 hours feel the same 🤢

Dream job: probably also a professor, like Crow! I'd love to be able to do research on things I'm interested in (it's always gay nuns, but recently it's also polygyny within medieval Jewish communities), and chat with colleagues about theirs, and write articles, and make lots of powerpoint presentations (I love them because I can even script in my jokes), and see what the younger generation are interested in when it comes to history! However, as we have established I am a very tired person, so I'm not sure how well I would cope with the expectation of out of hours work.

Wearing: Blue silk pyjama bottoms decorated with little white vines and flowers, brown walking socks, and a long fluffy hooded! dressing gown which I would probably call maroon or burgundy. Don't judge me for this (or do, I deserve it).  For the more wattpad experience we can also say that I have thrown my long brown hair into a messy bun.

Books/movies that summarise me: I could ask my friends, or I could just insert a picture of the DSM-V here because that's what they'll all send me

Favourite song: I don't have favourite anythings to be honest, but my most played song this year (at a whopping 22 times) was Zitti e Buoni by Måneskin. Lyric-wise I'm still obsessed with Tongues & Teeth by The Crane Wives, specifically "I know that you mean so well, but I am not a vessel for your good intent".

Favourite instrument: I've played clarinet, recorder, guitar, and keyboard, none of which I had any talent for 😂

Aesthetic: I've been told so many things about how I dress so I'll try to keep it brief. I own an eclectic collection of dresses (probably 60+) and tend to favour colourful patterns for daily wear and single colour grecian-style drapes for formal events. I likewise own lot of colourful patterned tops (described by my friends as "pretty", "flattering", "interesting", and "like you took it from your mum's wardrobe" (she gave it to me)) which I wear with jeans. That said, I can most commonly be found in my "grandad" looks of a men's shirt open over a vest or buttoned to the bare minimum of decency, or one of my two favourite golf jumpers (one grey, one beige).

Favourite authors: I don't have favourite authors of books (though I definitely do for fanfiction), but I do want to read more Margaret Atwood because I've only read The Handmaid's Tale and that one quote from The Robber Bride that lives rent free in my head.

Random fun fact: I managed to get super glue in my mouth when I was decorating a christmas bauble with watch parts last night! Very on brand, I'm notoriously clumsy. I also only managed to super glue two of my fingers together, so that is a new record

Tagging @bidet-and-legolas @a-liittle-bit-of-both and anyone who fancies it!

[beelzzzebub]

.

only one more class, tomorrow. i have a presentation in seven hours that i haven't started working on. i want to go to sleep. i have to be up in seven hours and i'm just getting myself together to start my work. in two days i have a concert. there's a party after. i am excited and nervous. but i'm going to go because i've never gone to one before. i sent my friend a message. i wish i had a million little things to give them and i wish i could send them brain messages to know how much i appreciate them and love them. i'm going to ask them to hang out over break when i go home. i should have said much smarter and more accurate things to them but i just think they're very smart and i don't want to presume but i want them to know that they can presume if they want. i wish the store was open so i could get an ice cream sandwich. i wish i had someone i could bump shoulders with and smile at. it's been so long since i've had an inside joke. i wish it didn't feel presumptuous to take up space. i put up my christmas lights and they're not too cold to keep me awake and i would keep them up all year if it didn't mean breaking down december. i'm thinking about the circle and lights last year. i wish evan hadn't fixed his phone. i wish the boys didn't exchange looks when i have questions. i wish i could make a pot of coffee. i wish i could teleport you here. i wish you would hold me. i wish we could use clear tape instead of blue. i wish our notes hadn't stopped at conditionals. i wish i belonged in the space i take up. next week is reading week and quiet hours are 24/7 in the dorm. do you have to be invited to parties in college. when will that pumpkin start decaying. i used to work there. don't break the microwave. i feel like i'm crossing people's boundaries by even existing around them. if i exist even in the periphery it's my fault for inserting myself into a headspace that i don't belong in. every time i think that i can stop toning it down i'm wrong. i'm too big in too many ways. i want to cry but if i do i'll fall asleep and then i can't work on my presentation.

[komikudikentalendo]

Part 2 of my Gyftmas

Event by @undertalesecretsanta

I'm doing it in parts cuz I can't post more than 10 images at once lol

Sans as Frisk's dad + Gaster Blaster as a pet

Sooo this is my headcanon:

Post pacifist route

Frisk is a smol kid

Sans is working with human scientists and he often comes back home late. Today is a special day cuz he's walking Frisk to the school himself. Needless to say, Frisk is over the moon.

Papyrus is always there to take care of Frisk and their playful pet, Gaster Blaster. But he is delighted to see his brother and Frisk together after a week of tough work. He also kinda missed his brother 👉👈

"....looking happy there kid, do ya like school that much?"

Frisk looks at Sans with a happy smile and grips his hand strongly. They nod.

Today is a happy day.

Pls click on the image to see it with a better resolution

(I really got no ideia how to tie a gaster blaster up lol)

Bonus!

I actually had another ideia for the "Sans as Frisk's dad" but I didn't really go through it cuz I can't make puns.... Nor dad jokes. Lol.

But yeah, here it is

Oh my god! You guys are right!

That's too much power!

Sorry! Ummm....

L-lets just erase this then....

Any jokes that you would insert here? Cuz I got no ideia lol

Ink and Error interactions + One of the Star Sanses (I chose Blue) + Fresh messing with anyone

".... c'mon Error, just a little popcorn"

"Hands off."

Lmao I imagine that Error stole Underfell Sans popcorn just as he was about to eat it. C'mon let Ink eat a little >:/

I was actually going to do a bit more before the "WTF" scene. I was going to do Fresh infecting everyone in the show with his Freshness but I realized I don't really know how the parasite thing works and how it looks like lol. So i just cut it off.

Also, if it wasn't clear, the "show" they were watching was the AU Undernovela (it's error favorite "show")

Anything Temmie + Poketale

I kinda wanted to do based on that pokemon meme where there's a print of a battle between a Charizard (i think) and a little pokemon bird.vtge bird looks back to the player with a face that says : "you little shit. What do you think I'm gonna do huh? tickle his feet?"

(but I'm not finding the meme :(

But I think Temmie is not the one who needs to be SCARED right now ...

( idk, for me, all Temmies are sus)

So that's it!

I was really glad I received a lot of opcional prompts because Im used to do my drawings fast lol.

The one who gave me the prompts was @cali-the-temmie, and I just want you to know that I had a really fun time with all of this prompts, sorry if it got a bit too intense.

Hope you enjoyed this weird santa on your Christmas :)

The prompts that I didn't do were :

Epic and Cross interactions (with bruh's and Dude's included) - i didn't do it cuz I don't really know them enough to make their interactions

Sans joking about depression - i couldn't think about any funny pun. I ALREADY SAID IM NOT A PUNNY PERSON AAA

Anything Endertale- I couldn't think of anything interesting to do :/ ( EDIT: OH MY GOD I COULD TOTALLY HAVE DONE ENDERTALE FRISK AND SANS + SANS BEING FRISK'S DAD. BECAUSE THEY REALLY GIVE THAT VIBE AAAAAA STUPID ME)

Credits:

Ink- @comyet

Error and Fresh - @loverofpiggies

Blue - @p0pcornPr1nce

Poketale- @inkedaway

Undernovela- @pig-demon

And of course, Undertale - Toby Fox

[kayluh1915]

More Than Anything

Words: 3,813

Pairing(s): Pedro Pascal/Female Reader

Warnings: 18+ Only!

While enjoying a long awaited drink, you find yourself entertained by the young bartender with horrible jokes. Pedro, however, doesn't see the humor in the situation.

DISCLAIMER

This fic is a part of my "Pedro y su Abeja🐝" series. You don't have to read the previous stories to understand this one, but they're there if anyone would like to give them a glance with your peepers. I write them as a reader insert, but they can also be read as an original character. It's up to you.

Follow me on Twitter, Instagram, and TikTok if you'd like. I'm pretty boring but I try. You can also checkout my Pedro Pascal Masterlist if you'd like to read some more Pedro works by me.

Enjoy!

Read on AO3

Additional Warnings: Daddy kink, dom/sub undertones, oral sex (female receiving), dirty talk, hair pulling, vaginal sex, and creampie.

London was beautiful.

Maybe a bit too cold for your tastes, but beautiful nonetheless.

It was your first time ever in the city… actually, it was your first time out of the States period. You always loved to travel, but never had the time or the money to invest in it. So, being in a new city and a new country was extremely exciting.

Big Ben was gorgeous, the London Eye was romantic, and Buckingham Palace was elegant. So many new and exciting sights all around you and yet your only focus was on Pedro, holding on tightly to his arm as he escorted you down the red carpet.

“Okay?” He asked, turning his attention towards you for a moment. You smiled up at him and nodded, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear as you did so. The red carpet still made you incredibly uncomfortable, but you had gotten better at it since Oscar night. It’s not something you enjoy, but you didn’t mind it as long as Pedro was there for you to follow and hold onto.

“After I finish presenting, we can head to the afterparty if you want. There’s really no need to stay if you’re not feeling it.” He offered once you were finally away from the blinding cameras.

“That sounds great, actually. I could use a drink."

"Yeah? What're you feeling?" You pondered for a moment.

"Honestly, I'm not really sure. Maybe something with vodka or bourbon."

"Bourbon, huh? Are you homesick?" You scoffed playfully and rolled your eyes with your tongue stuck out at him, earning a deep chuckle as he placed a kiss on your temple.

He teases you about that every time bourbon is brought up.

After the usual press interviews and greetings with Pedro’s peers, you were finally able to take your seats, getting as close to him as possible while he draped his arm across the back of your seat.

Before meeting Pedro, you loved award shows. It was an excuse to get off your ass with friends and shit on the biased bastards who clearly chose the winners on other criteria besides which film had been best crafted.

Now, you fucking hated them. Having to sit still in a seat and listen to these rich snobs drone on and on about nothing important for hours on end with no booze or idiotic friends to laugh with made it damn near unbearable for you. Pedro knew this and picked up on your fidgeting about 40 minutes into the show. He placed his hand on your bouncing knee, gently rubbing his thumb over it.

"You can go on to the party if you want, Abeja. I still have a bit before my presentation and I know how restless you get with these things.” You shook your head, going back to bouncing your knee, but a bit gentler this time.

“Nah. I want to stay here with you and show my support.” He chuckled.

“You don’t have to prove anything to me and you know that." A split second of silence fell between you as you weighed your options, but he wasn't having it.

"Go. Have a drink and loosen up a bit. I’ll come find you after I present and we can watch the clip together on YouTube later.”

Normally, you wouldn’t listen to him and would tough it out. Pedro lit up like a kid on Christmas anytime he was on camera and you loved to see it, but he was right. The video of him presenting would be on YouTube within minutes of it being aired so you’d still be able to see it.

"... Okay. I have my phone if you want me to come back." You offered.

"Alright. I’ll see you in a bit, honey." You exchanged a quick kiss, bunched your dress up in both hands, and nearly booked it out of the theatre, more than happy to finally be away from all the formal shit.

You were the first one at the party, rushing over the bartender and ordering some Jim Beam and Coke. Pretty basic, but it was just something to get you started.

"Your accent is lovely." The bartender complimented as he slid your drink to you.

"Oh, this ugly thing?" You gestured to your vocal chords. "I respectfully disagree, but thank you. I’d much rather have one like yours. Sounds much nicer than deep fried hick." The young man laughed, resting his elbow on the bar.

"Where you from?" You took a sip of the concoction before answering.

"Kentucky. Born and raised." The bartender looked at your drink and then back at you.

"You're not a little homesick are ya?" He asked, gesturing to your drink. You groaned, rolling your eyes and laying your head on the bar.

"Why does everyone ask me that? I just like bourbon, okay?" The bartender laughed again as you took another sip.

"Yes ma'am. I apologize. I'm Brice." He held his hand out for you to shake. You did, giving him your name in return. "So, this your first time in the UK?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The afterparty had a lot more people now, the three drinks you've had relaxing you and tinting your cheeks blush red. It wasn't enough for you to ditch your filter, but it did make you quite giggly.

Brice especially found your giggle fits endearing. He had been talking to you the entire time you’d been there, only leaving to serve the other guests before coming back over to you. He'd lean on the marble bar as you spoke and he started telling you bad jokes just to get you to giggle. He seemed like a pretty cool dude.

"Can I ask you something?" He asked, watching you closely as you down your shot of whiskey. You put the glass back on the bar with a clank, letting out a sigh as you felt the liquor run warm down to your stomach.

"Sure. What's on your mind?" You answer. Brice takes the glass from you and washes it quickly, drying it off with a towel as he seems to ponder on how to say what he's about to say.

"You know, you're pretty awesome and I would love to get to know you better away from all of this." He started, gesturing around the party atmosphere. "So, I was wondering if you would like to exchange phone numbers? Maybe socials as well?"

Ah Lord. You were nowhere near drunk enough to deal with this shit. Brice seemed like a cool guy, but you didn't think you were coming off that way and immediately felt terrible for leading him on. You opened your mouth to say… something. You weren't really sure, but it was going to be better than dumbass silence. However, you didn't even get a word out before you felt a familiar hand on your back and Pedro’s voice right by your ear.

Perfect. Just in time to be used as a gentle decline.

"There you are, I've been looking everywhere for you." You spun around to come face to face with Pedro, your face instantly lighting up as soon as you saw him. He looked you over with a smile, noticing your flushed cheeks and drunken giggles.

"I see you've had your drink." You nodded, holding up four fingers. "Oh, four. Excuussse me."

Pedro looked over to Brice and ordered his own drink. He noticed that the young man had a melancholy look to him, his blue eyes shifting right back to you as soon as he acknowledged his drink order.

"Is he bothering you?" Pedro whispered, not taking his eyes off of the bartender as he made his drink. You gasped, pretending to be offended.

"Nooooo! Brice would never!"

Pedro wasn't usually a jealous man, but something about the current situation was making his blood boil. He concealed it well and thanked "Brice" when he handed him his drink.

"I'm going to go say hi to some friends. You wanna come with me?" You groaned, not really wanting to put your formal face back on, but your desire to be around Pedro as much as possible outweighed all of it.

“Fiiinnee. I’m not talking, though.” He held his hand out for you to take, helping you down from the bar stool before placing his hand on your lower back. He gave the bartender one last glance, trying his best not to feel the pride swell in his chest when he saw how devastated the poor guy looked.

About an hour had passed when you returned to the bar for another drink, Brice apologizing for being forward as he slid you your shot.

“I didn’t know you were with someone. I’m sorry.” You fanned your hand at him, downing your shot in one go.

“It’s no big deal. I didn’t say anything so you couldn’t have known. For what it’s worth, I think you're an awesome dude and would love to exchange socials with you. You have a discord?” Brice’s eyes lit up as he nodded, grabbing a pen and paper to write his username on.

After exchanging little scraps of paper, you continued chatting with him and ended up getting giggly again from the shot. Brice noticed and started telling his horrible jokes again, but your drunk ass still found them fucking hilarious. You were still sober enough to keep the filter, but you were talking and laughing pretty loudly.

Brice was in the middle of a joke when you felt Pedro’s large and warm hand wrap around your upper arm. You melted into him with a fit of giggles, Pedro laughing at how cute you were as he brushed a few strands of hair out of your eyes.

"C'mon, honey. I think it's time for us to turn in." Pedro said, a groan leaving your lips.

"Let Brice finish this last joke and then I'll come okay?"

This time, Pedro didn't hide his rage, looking up at Brice with the most intimidating look he could muster while he had you drunk in his arms. It definitely worked, the poor dude shrinking in on himself as his eyes widened with fear.

"A-actually I'll send it to you on Discord, okay? I think you should go with your boyfriend." Brice stuttered out, clearly intimidated by your sweet teddy bear which you found hilarious. So hilarious that you didn't even question why he was angry in the first place.

Pedro was satisfied with Brice's answer and deep down felt terrible for being such an asshole, turning his attention back to you leaning on him and still giggling.

"C'mon, Abeja. Let's go."

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The door to your shared hotel room had barely shut before Pedro had you cornered, his eyes dark and the smell of his cologne dancing under your nostrils. You had sobered up a bit on the drive back to the hotel and was starting to feel tired.

You whine pitifully, mildly upset that he was keeping you from your plans of peaceful dreams.

"What is it, P? M'tired." You groaned. Pedro scoffed above you.

"Am I not enough for you?" He growled. You furrow your eyebrows in confusion and look up at him.

"Huh? What're you tal-"

"Is this old man not enough for your little pussy? Huh?" You froze and swallowed hard, now understanding where he was going with this and you very much liked it, your exhaustion instantly forgotten.

"N-no… You're perfect." He chuckled darkly, leaning down to trail his lips gently over your neck. You moaned quietly, feeling his stubble tickle your sensitive skin.

"Really? Then why would you waste your time with that... boy?”

Ooohhhh. Brice.

"He-he was just being friendly. He seemed like a pretty cool guy an-"

Pedro interrupted you by slamming you against the door, pinning your wrists to the cold steel as he got close to you, his lips only inches away from yours.

"You have no idea what you'd be missing." He snarled, your pussy clenching hard from just his words and voice alone.

"... Show me, then.”

Pedro growls low in his throat and pushes you harder into the door, now holding both of your wrists in his left hand as he caresses your face and lifts his knee up to your clothed cunt.

"Gonna fuck you so good. Your young little pussy won't be able to take it all." You whined quietly, grinding yourself down onto his knee.

"Please..." Pedro's breath hitched, his grip tightening on your wrists.

"See, look at you... You're already coming apart and I've only given you my knee. That boy wouldn't even get you this close with his inexperience. Only I know exactly what you need." You were squirming at this point, your juices already starting to soak through your panties.

"Please, Daddy… Please..." You begged as he pressed his knee even harder into your dripping heat.

"Patience, my sweet Abeja. Daddy will give you everything soon."

He jerked your wrists forward, pulling you close as he let go of his hold to grab your ass and hoist you up. You quietly squeaked in surprise, wrapping your arms and legs around him as he quickly carried you over to the bed. He threw you down on it, the springs protesting lightly from the sudden weight as Pedro began to strip.

He almost had his undershirt unbuttoned when you sat up and tried to unzip your dress, but he stopped you by pinning your wrists to the mattress.

“Only Daddy’s allowed to take that dress off, baby girl.” You whined, another gush soaking your already damp panties.

He let go of your wrists again and continued to undress, looking over your body hungrily as he did so.

“I bet you’re soaked already, aren’t you, pretty girl?” You nodded rubbing your thighs together as your pussy clenched again. He parted your legs and haphazardly lifted your dress. He groaned at the sight of your heather gray panties darkening in color as your arousal continued to seep.

The stylist had highly advised you to wear sexy underwear with the dress, but you didn't care. You'd take comfort over looks anyday and Pedro didn't seem to have a problem with your choice of underwear.

He took his right pointer finger and ran it gently over the darkening patch, the bulge in his boxers twitching and somehow getting harder.

"Fuck, look at you. So shameless." He wraps his arms around your legs and pulls you to the side of the bed while getting down on his knees. You impatiently began to fidget, knowing exactly what he was doing. He pulled your panties aside, the sight of your glistening pussy spurring him on as he yanked you closer and licked you from your opening to your throbbing clit.

“Daddy…” You sighed, your hands instantly tangling in his hair. Pedro groaned, the vibrations and his facial hair feeling heavenly. He wrapped his arms around your thighs and threw them over his shoulders, pulling you even closer and pressing the pads of his fingers into your smooth skin.

“MMmmmm.” You whined, the sudden movement causing your pussy to clench around nothing. You spared a glance down to Pedro. You could only see his eyes, but that was more than enough, his dark chocolate orbs staring up at you with a dizzying mixture of adoration and lust.

Pedro loved how wreaked you looked, your mouth hung open and your eyes hooded. He took pride that he was the one making you feel this way, knowing that he was the only one who got to see you like this.

He’d had plans on taking his time with you, slowly bringing you to one orgasm after another with his tongue, fingers, and cock; but the sight of you losing yourself just on his tounge alone drove him crazy and he grew impatient.

He pulled away from you too soon for your liking, his lips and chin glistening with your arousal as he yanked off your underwear in one swoop. He discarded his boxers as he stood up, pinning you to the bed as he drug the head of his cock through your slick folds a few times.

“You’re mine, understand?” You nodded quickly, wanting so desperately for him to get on with it. “Say it.”

“I-I’m yours, Daddy… Please….” You begged.

“Please what?” Your mind was so fuzzy with arousal, that you could barely process the words he was saying, let alone compose some of your own, but Pedro wasn’t having it. He grabbed a handful of your hair and yanked it, the delicious mixture of pain and pleasure only making your neediness worse.

“Answer me.”

“Fuck me!” You whined, your voice hoarse and weak, but still loud enough for him to get the message. Pedro let go of your hair and caressed your face, the gentle gesture a far cry from how he’d pulled your hair barley seconds ago.

“Good girl.” When he finally pushed himself in, you both made noises of pleasure, Pedro wasting no time. "God, you feel so good, baby." He groaned, starting to thrust into you faster. Though you both were inpatient and did very little foreplay, you were still absolutely soaked.

“You hear that?” He gruffed, his facial hair tickling your jaw as the sounds of your wet pussy squelched almost musically. “That boy could never get you this wet. You’d probably have to- fuck- have to use lube just to get started.”

You were already close. It’d been a hot minute since you’ve seen each other, your music classes revving up for concert season and his schedule getting booked by the day. It was hard to be away from one another for so long, but this… this made it worthwhile. No toy or vibrator could ever top the way Pedro made you feel.

"Pedro…" You groaned.

"That's it. Scream Daddy's name, baby girl. Show the boys who you belong to."

His cock repeatedly rubbing against your g-spot sent waves of tingling pleasure all throughout your lower half, the intensity of it building higher and higher as he continued.

"Don't stop, Daddy. Please don't stop." You whined, your voice getting higher as your orgasm grew closer.”

"Cum on Daddy's cock, Abeja. Let him feel you drip." Like a rubber band being pulled too tight, you snapped, your back arching off the bed and your toes curling. It hit you hard, your pussy drenching his cock and throbbing relentlessly with wave after wave of chilling pleasure.

“Mmm, Daddy’s gonna cum, baby girl. Whe-where do you want it?” He panted, his movements slowing for a few seconds while he waited on your answer.

“Inside…” You whined, your orgasm still wreaking havoc as he sped back up.

“Gonna fill you up, baby. Gonna… gonna…” He thrust his cock into you one last time, his own orgasm tearing through him with the same intensity as yours. The feeling of his cum warming your insides and his throbbing cock brought you to the peak for a second time. It wasn’t very intense, but getting filled up always made your orgasm even if they’re small.

Pedro collapsed onto you, his lips colliding with yours in a slow, passionate kiss. You laid your head back with a sigh on pleasure, Pedro chasing after you to gently kiss and nibble at your chin.

“I know you like me to stay in for a bit after we finish, but can we please make an exception this time? My back is killing me in this position.” You snorted.

“Oh my god, you’re so fucking old.” Pedro pulled out slowly, the feeling of his cum seeping out dazing you again for a moment. He smugly smirked at the sight, his hand gently caressing your upper thigh as he watched it trail down your folds.

“You weren't complaining about it earlier.”

A little later, you were laying on Pedro’s chest as he played with your hair, both of you just enjoying each other's company and the silence after a night of constant noise.

"Since when do you get jealous?" You finally asked, breaking the peace as his hand stilled in your hair.

"M'not… not usually anyway." You traced small circles on his chest for a moment.

"What was so different this time?" He sighed deeply, the silence returning as he thought of an answer.

“I dunno. I guess I just…” He sighed again, running a hand through his hair.

“There’s just... so many people out there… people who have their entire lives ahead of them, who doesn’t have back pain, who doesn’t have gray hair and wrinkles, and who doesn’t sound like rice crispies in the morning and…” He paused, his arms tightening around you.

“... Someone who has the time to give you all the attention you deserve. I feel so guilty knowing that I can’t wake you up with breakfast every morning, that I have to leave you alone for months and months at a time, and that you have to face so much scrutiny because of my age. When I saw you with Brice, you looked so happy and it made me think of all the things that I can’t give you…”

He was choking up at this point, his eyes glassy and brimming with tears. You sat up a bit to face him, your hand caressing his face and gently scratching his facial hair as you stared into his watery eyes.

“Pedro… don’t say things like that. You are more than enough for me. You’re so kind and smart and oh so sweet. You’ll come take care of me when I’m sick, you respect me and treat me as my own person, you spoil me even though I beg you not to, and you love me for who I am.” Pedro sniffled as you rested your forehead atop his.

“You are hands down the most amazing man I’ve ever met and no amount of scrutiny, grey hair, or rice crispy joints is going to change that. You may think that you can’t give me everything, but you give me more than enough and I love you more than anything on this Earth.”

Pedro smiled a small smile, bringing up his left hand up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear and caress your jaw as a tear fell down his cheek.

“I don’t deserve you…” He whispered. You wiped the tear away with your thumb and leaned down to kiss him for a bit.

"That, and you're such a DILF. I mean, did you see yourself in Narcos?" He laughed, wiping his eyes with his wrist as he got up to take a shower.

"Alright, bye. Your fangirl's coming out." You got up as well, hoping to finally take off that stupid dress and join him.

“You know you love it.” His arms suddenly wrap around you from behind, his lips pressing gentle kisses on your shoulders.

“More than anything.”

[immaturityofthomasastruc]

#5: The One With Astruc's Self-Insert

In my introductory post, I said the main inspiration for this blog was @hypocrisyofandrewdobson​. For those who don't know, Andrew Dobson is an infamous webcomic artist known for drawing webcomics that tend to demonize people he's come across in public or people who disagree with him online (either critical of his art or his political views), while portraying himself as the victim or wise man calling them out on their differing beliefs.

If you want to learn more about this guy who I consider to be far worse than Astruc, check out the blog in question. And no, I don't know why he draws himself as a blue bear.

Why am I talking about this? It's one thing for some schmuck on the internet to use his work to respond to criticism, but the creator of a popular animated series dedicating an entire episode to attacking his critics and trying to get others to feel bad for him is another story.

The second episode of Miraculous Ladybug's third season, “Animaestro” served as a wake-up call for fans (myself included) to make them realize how immature Astruc could be. The plot centers around the premiere of a movie about Ladybug and Cat Noir directed by Thomas Astruc, who voices himself in the original French dub.

And this isn't just a brief cameo like what Stan Lee did in the MCU. Astruc is the Akumatized person this episode, so there's naturally a lot of focus on him. Throughout the first half of the episode, Astruc portrays himself as this timid man who nobody recognizes or respects, like this idiot who doesn't know what animation is.

Doorman: This is a private event, sir.

Astruc: Huh? Excuse me? I'm Thomas Astruc, the movie director.

Doorman: You filmed Cat Noir and Ladybug? What are they like in real life?

Astruc: Er, it's an animated movie. It's all cartoon characters. We don't actually film anyone. See, there's this whole team that draw the chara—

Doorman: Whatever. Who would want to see Ladybug and Cat Noir as cartoon characters?

Get it? Wasn't that meta joke hilarious? This is how much I was laughing:

And Astruc continues to get about as much respect as Rodney Dangerfield when he interacts with other characters like Jagged Stone and Chloe.

Jagged Stone: Ladybug is one of my best buds! I can't wait to see her movie!

Astruc: Well I—I'm the director, so actually it's more my movie, so to speak.

Jagged Stone: Oh, so you're the one who created the story?

Astruc: Well, technically the screen writers wrote the story, inspired by Ladybug's exploits.

Jagged Stone: Oh, okay. So you did all the drawings?

Thomas: No, no. The animators do all the drawings.  

Jagged Stone: So what do you do then?

(Later on...)

Chloe: So you're the one responsible for this movie?

Astruc: Yes, yes! Exactly! That's me!

Chloe: Then you were the one who left Queen Bee out of the trailer. You're lame, utterly lame.

I can't believe Astruc had a scene where he interacted with Chloe and didn't insult her at all.

The episode is determined to make the audience feel bad for Astruc. Nobody respects him and what he does. Isn't that saaaaaad? Nobody cares about animated film directors like Walt Disney or Tex Avery anyway. Not even these stupid children understand how hard Astruc works.

Several Children: Ladybug! Where's Ladybug?

Astruc: Hey there, kids!

Teacher: Ladybug isn't here children. We came here to meet the director of the movie. Children: (frowning in disappointment) Aww.

(Astruc looks visibly disappointed.)

Way to insult your primary demographic, Astruc. I thought you said kids have a better understanding of these stories when people criticized the writing of a certain episode (It's that scene in “Puppeteer 2” if you're curious/don't value your sanity).

It's almost like you're using that as an excuse to half-ass your work while still getting to claim this show is so groundbreaking.

In case you can't tell, “Animaestro” is one of those episodes. The ones where the showrunners decide to dedicate an entire episode to attacking critics of the show in a blunt fashion. Whenever a show addresses criticism, they either create an obvious strawman character to parrot the opinions of fans who don't like their work, or have someone defend the show and insult the critics directly.

The problem isn't that they're ignoring criticism. It's their show, and they aren't obligated to listen to critics or fans who don't like the direction the show is taking. On the other hand, they aren't obligated to fight back like this and treat their audience like crap. Any show that does something like the three clips I showed you usually comes off as petty and immature because they dedicate so much time to insulting the critics. 

Even during the Akuma fight, Astruc has to call out Ladybug for having problems with his movie in-universe, obviously representing critics of the show Astruc claims have no right to criticize the show while it's still airing.

Ladybug: What's with that trailer too? I am not scared of cats, at all.

Astruc/Animaestro: You haven't even seen the movie and you're already slamming it?

Cat Noir: He does have a point, you know.

Ladybug: I wasn't slamming it. It's called constructive criticism!

Yeah, how dare Ladybug be angry that this movie is portraying her as a powerless coward dependent on Cat Noir as opposed to a confident and brave superhero. She just doesn't understand the genius of Thomas Astruc!

And of course the character Astruc claims is “perfect” is the one to take his side.

And that's another problem with this episode, the metatextual references. Before he gets akumatized, Astuc says he spent three years of his life working on his movie. I get that time in this show is weird (we somehow had episodes taking place on the first day of school, Christmas, Valentine's Day, and the first day of Summer), but how did Astruc's self-insert work on a movie based on a superhero who has only been active for a year? Meta-wise, it's an obvious reference to the scorn Astruc has gotten from fans after working so hard on his show, but the only people who would get that reference are the ones who are aware of Astruc's reputation online.

Self-Insert aside, I actually think the titular Animaestro is one of the more visually impressive Akumas featured on the show. Animaestro takes on several forms based off several different forms and eras of animation, like flash, anime, rubber hose, and they all stand out. Granted, some of them are obvious parodies of other characters like Goku or Sailor Moon, but the actual Akuma fight is fun to watch. According to the Mexican Miraculous Ladybug Twitter account, this episode took two and a half years to create, and it shows. It's too bad the story behind it is completely insufferable, almost like the cartoon equidistant to Pixels.

But then comes the part that honestly makes the episode worth it, mainly for how unintentionally hilarious it is. Do you want to know what Animaestro's weakness is? Do you really want to know?

Animaestro is physically incapable of moving unless someone is watching him. I am not making this up.

Ladybug and Cat Noir literally defeat Animaestro by getting everyone to stop paying attention to him.

I could make so many jokes with this, but I can guarantee you're already thinking of something just as good, if not better, than whatever I write.

And there's the end where Astruc gives Marinette his ticket to the movie, which prompts Marinette to kiss up to him for no real reason.

Astruc: Sorry, I guess you don't know who I am either.

Marinette: Of course do. You're Thomas Astruc, the movie director!

Astruc: She recognized me. Somebody actually recognized me!

Nothing happened to make her change her opinion on the Ladybug movie, she didn't really say anything to him earlier in the episode that connects to this exchange, and outside of a few lines Animaestro said, she doesn't even know why he got akumatized (even though ironically she and Chloe accidentally contributed to it because of the awful subplot involving Kagami I talked about last time). If anything, it comes off less like she actually appreciates Astruc's work, and more like she's stroking his ego just to keep him from getting akumatized again.

So yeah, this episode is awful, and the fact that it came out right after the controversial “Chameleon” only proved to show what kind of direction the show was taking this season.

But honestly, even if Astruc still wanted to make about how he doesn't get enough respect the episode could have potentially. All he had to do was make a simple change: Instead of making it about validation for Astruc as a creator, make it about validation for animation in general.

It's a common misconception that animation is only used for shows and movies aimed at children, so the episode could reflect it. Instead of the huge turnout where several celebrities appear at the premiere, instead, the turnout could be a lot smaller, with the media dismissing it as some stupid kiddie flick. Instead of getting akumatized because he gets humiliated in public/getting no respect from anyone else, Astruc gets akumatized because he sees the audience didn't go wild for the movie after the premiere. All he can hear them say is that it's just “kids stuff”.

So when Astruc is Animaestro, he goes on about how important animation is. How it's helped produce propaganda since World War II. How it helped improve special effects in big blockbusters. How the medium is used to create movies that simply can't be filmed on a physical set.

After defeating Animaestro, Ladybug shows up to talk to him. She had seen the movie earlier, and actually enjoyed it. She had a few problems with the story, but they were just minor nitpicks and inaccuracies Astruc wouldn't know about, and she was blown away by the animation. She tells Astruc not to be deterred by his critics, and continue to do what he does. As a designer in her civilian life, Ladybug knows the joy creating brings her, and both she and Astruc want to spread that joy through their work.

Back at the premiere, Astruc thinks about what Ladybug said to him when he sees some kids reenacting a scene from the movie. Astruc walks over to them and asks what they thought of the movie. They said they loved it and how energetic it was. When he tells them he is the director, the kids' faces light up and they say they want to do what he does when they grow up, bringing a smile to Astruc's face.

Isn't that a much more humble approach instead of what we got? It would have helped Astruc come across as more sympathetic, especially with animation fans. But instead, we got an entire episode of Astruc whining about how misunderstood he is.

And you know the footage used for the movie at the beginning? Remember that, because I have a huge rant about it saved for a later post.

For now, here’s an example of a creator appearing in his work done right.

[smoll-stace]

Alone for the holidays

this is one of those self insert things :3 

this is also a gt fluffy so if your not into that don’t read 

You are a human,

y/n your name h/c hair color h/l hair length

Loom is a big black and blue furry long-limbed night creature with big eyes (cute/enchanting way) like this but darker colors (and yes this species is from the movie Mune) 

The cold began creeping through the thin coat you had thrown on as you stepped out the door and into the snowless forest behind your house. You walk through the trees, contemplating the situation. Somehow your flight had gotten canceled, and now you were alone for the holidays. It was Christmas, and the loneliness was finally setting in, so you decided to go for a walk. At least in the forest, you were not alone, the trees would keep you company at least. Running your hand across the low-hanging branches, feeling the soft pine beneath your fingertips. You hear a snap behind you and turn to see a large cougar, its mouth dripping with blood. You run blindly, your heart racing. You quickly climb a tree breaking the limbs as you go so the cougar can not follow. The cougar stares up at you from the ground licking the blood from its maw before turning away to find easier prey. Leaving you alive, but also stuck in a tree. You sit in the tree questioning your life's choices.

Night comes and you're still stuck, and on top of that, your fingers and nose were turning blue. A soft thud rocks the tree. You suck in a breath as a giant creature comes into view, its huge head about the size of a two-story building. It takes another step causing the ground to once again shake. You slip, letting out a scream before being able to grab the limb you had been sitting on. Dangling by one hand as the giant head turns to look down at you. Its wide eyes widen further as he peers down at you. The branch was about shoulder level to the giant furry creature, with the fur the color of the night sky, and glowing white specks dotting the bridge of its nose making a milky way effect. One eye was a light blue, the other a blue-ish magenta.

He crouches, a smirk growing on his lips. "A human ayy... I haven't seen one of your kind in a while. How did you get stuck up here?" you try to scramble back onto your branch. He chuckles. "Well?" he asks. You stop struggling to get back on because your fingers had begun to slip, you grip the limb tighter. "A... Cougar... I was chased by a cougar... Into the tree." you stutter out as a bright, purple, blush flashes across your face as you take in the situation. Your face was turning blue from the cold... And the tremble in your voice was partly from your chattering teeth. He laughed, "you humans never seem to surprise me."

You felt your fingers slip, and you yelp as you fell but landed softly in the palm of the beast. You sit, staring up at him as your heart speeds in your chest. He shivers "oh wow your cold...." slowly, his face turns from joking to worried. He cupped his fur-lined hand around you, then stood, causing your stomach to flip. He was warm. You bury deeper into the downy fluff. He looks down and smiles "aaaaw... I forgot how cute you humans can be." he cued. A blush again seemed to engulf your face, so you hide it in his fur, this only brought more cues, and slowly he began to run one of his long fingers down your back. Your body turns into butter, sinking even deeper into his palm as his warmth slowly eases your shaking body.

Finally, he stopped resting himself in the opening of a large cave. Leaning his back against the cave wall and placing you on his furry chest resting a hand over you, gently pressing you against him. Running a finger down your side before ruffling your h/l, h/c hair. "Hope you don't mind spending the night with me, uh... Oh, I never got your name..." he looks at you with a sheepish smile. "It's...y/n" you respond. He smiled, "even your name's cute!" he said with a smirk. You angrily pout as another blush creeps across your face. "I'm not cute..." you mutter. "I disagree. You... Are.. very, Cute." he said, tracing circles down your back... His eyes softened, and he didn't seem to be joking this time. Slowly your eyes begin to close. "What's your name?" you ask before you can drift off. "Loom.." he says with a smile as he brushes a strand of your h/c hair from your face, and you slip into your dreams. At least you can say you weren't alone for Christmas.

I am new to writing so tips and critique are welcome :) 

[gpsoftun]

A little bedtime treat for anyone who needs it- you know who you are ❤

That night, the southern teenager's rapid fire thoughts made sleep unobtainable. She managed not to stir her blissfully slumbering roommates as she got into her robe and slipped out of the room. Endlessly gloved hands made even warmer inside the pockets of the jade plush robe, she moved through the hall. Even after almost a full year, the majestic surroundings continued to leave her mesmerized. From park benches and bus stations to a storybook castle- it still seemed like someone else's life.

Reaching the stairs, she autonomously descended until she stopped to sit on the bottom step. She studied her elbow-length gloves- in black to match her pajamas- fond recollection filled her. For her first X-Christmas- only real one in quite sometime- her not-so-secret santa, Jubilee and the only other student who accessorized with gloves- had gifted her a dozen pairs in different colors. While it felt nice not to be the only one with constantly covered hands, she knew Jubilee had the option of removing them without the risk of draining the life out of someone. Granted, Jubilee's sparkle hands frequently made unsuspecting victims of technology.

Unsure of how long she dwelled on her own thoughts, the green-eyed girl noticed the comforting shadow that blanketed her before she registered the residual smoke. Her long-lost older brother's transport method came with an undesirable odor. For a while now, her senses welcomed the stench. Her first exposure to it being when he rescued her in mid-air from certain death helped.

Blue tail and feet coiled around the bars of the banister, he dangled upside down. "Penny for your thoughts, schwesterherz."

Despite the soft smile the pet name always managed to worm out of her, Rogue sardonically replied, "I'm thinking about how I had all this cat burglar finesse before you showed up. Where are you stashing this low-jack you have on me?"

"We've discussed this," Kurt spoke equally impishly. "It was either that or building a pen around your bed."

Rogue shook her head in faux scorn.

"Keep making that face," the new voice made a path for them from the kitchen, "and you'll start looking like me."

The other two mutants regarded the astonishing leader with marveled impression. With the tinted ruby-quartz glasses all but strapped to his face, he maneuvered through the dim first floor uninhibitedly. Not entirely baffling since many an X-Kid could confirm that the Cyclops possessed eyes in the back of his head.

Kurt half-joked, "Better you than she should pick up the family resemblance, mein freund."

Rogue inched over to bat at his arm. "Cut it out." She knew well how the average civilian reacted to her elfish sibling. Too blind and/or plain dumb to see the Amazing Nightcrawler her eyes beheld. She peered up at Scott. "You saw my face way over here?"

"Your sarcasm fluctuations are more vivid," Scott told her. He moved to stand to the girl's right, leaning his tall frame against the banister. "Still thinking about the cure?" At her taken aback expression, he indicated her wrists. "You fuss with those gloves like a nail-biter."

Rogue ceased tugging on the ends of the sleeves and redirected her gaze shyly. "Sorry."

"Hey, it's okay," Scott promptly reassured. "It's nothing that hasn't crossed the minds of even the most outspoken of mutants."

Kurt said in ponder, "It's impossible not to consider such an amazing possibility."

At his choice of words, Rogue faced him. "Do you want it?"

"The answer is simple, schwesterherz." Kurt then amended, "Or it was- give or take two to three months ago."

A knowing Rogue glibly responded. "The X-Men ruin everything, right?"

"Yah," the upside-down German concurred.

Scott inserted, "A simpler time before Charles Xavier plucked us up from the dredges of society."

Rogue asked with interest, "You would've taken it, though?"

"I'd have blasted the windows to shoot a case of the stuff into my veins," Scott replied in earnest. "But this is a different life; a worthwhile life. I've made a commitment to the X-Men and all of you kids. I can't backtrack on years of encouragement and war cries of courage just to make my eyes visible."

"That is true," seconded Kurt. "Whatever our past trials, we have a purpose far greater than ourselves now."

Scott shared a quiet look with the younger instructor. He knew on some level that after what happened at the dam, Kurt felt it his duty to carry on where the X-Woman who sought him out no longer could.

Guilt remained evident in Rogue's features as she peered between them. "I know how I must sound. You two have it worse than I do."

Scott chuckled faintly. "You might want to poll the rest of this mansion on that one. We could cover an entire unit in social studies with that debate. Though, I think I could live with a tail and full-body five o'clock shadow if it meant saving gas with teleporting."

Grin in place, Kurt countered, "Nah, man. My conditioner and tick powder bills top your gasoline easily."

Though amused, Rogue admitted, "I can't help thinking about..."

Scott caught the brief nervous glance she sent his way. "Go ahead." At her continued hesitation, he prompted her with a partially firm, "Marie."

The girl sighed lightly. "Just.... Getting married, having kids...."

Comprehending the reason behind her previous pause, Scott lowered to join her on the step. "See?" He playfully nudged her shoulder. "No spontaneous combustion here. I get it, though. That's a constant hazard with me."

It pleased him to see her at ease. After what happened following his and the Professor's abductions, everyone avoided certain incidental topics in his presence. Such as 'weddings', 'children', 'romance', 'love', 'death', 'hope' and other meaningless notions. Scott also knew that his tendency to retreat to his own quarters or his garage workshop did not help, either. Though he'd made an effort to improve in that area the last few weeks.

"Honestly, plans for the future like that, a lot of us have wondered about it," Scott revealed. "Not even just 'can we' but 'should we'. Do we really want to bring another generation of mutants into this not-so-wonderful world? And I know you girls think about these things even more often." If the number of paper dolls dressed in cutouts from bridal magazines his ever studious gigglers left in the library indicated anything.

"But you don't need to carry children to be a mother," pointed out Kurt. "We're most blessed in that regard."

Rogue's green irises shined adoringly into his yellow. He served as the sole bright spot of her short-lived adoption by a certain slimy shape-shifter.

"We also don't know if you're going to gain control over your powers one day," Scott brought up. "Anything can happen between now and your 40th birthday."

Rogue looked at him questioningly. "Forty?"

"That's roughly the average marital age for women now. Right, Kurt?"

"Yah," supported the blue mutant. "My favorite American custom next to the multitude of fast food chains." He then said sincerely, "If you really want the cure, I think we need to gather more information."

"Definitely," agreed Scott. "The Professor is leaving it to everyone's own discretion. I'm not altogether sold on a vaccine released so recently. We need more time to see about worst-case side effects."

"You're right," Rogue knew.

"We'll keep talking about it- just the three of us if you like." Scott then requested pointedly, "Just don't do that thing you do, *Rogue*."

At the very apparent hint, she promised, "Got it. Trust me, I'm all out of reasons to take off." At the very least, the reasons to stay outnumbered them.

"Good." Kurt smirked a little. "Or I'm adding a leash to the low-jack."

Racking that up to some sibling-ism between them, Scott touched a hand to the teen's back. "Think you can sleep or do you want me to get the Professor?"

Rogue determined, "I'm good. Thanks, Cyclops." She got up. When Kurt dropped to his feet, she bent over to nuzzle heads with him, further messing her bed-head. "Ich habe dich lieb, großer bruder."

Kurt returned the whispered affection with, "Ich habe dich lieb, schwesterherz."

The men watched the teen head upstairs, pleased by the noticeable weight reduction on her shoulders.

The simple sight offered Scott the possibility of his own full night's rest.

[talkfastromance4]

Forever & a Night//michael clifford

Second NYE chronicles! This is some sweet and fluffy Michael with maybe a pinch of smut who knows🤷🏻‍♀️ I also got very carried away. Oops. reader insert but written as fem!reader

warnings: casual drinking, champagne, first time having sex, reminiscent memories

Masterlist

NYE Chronicles masterlist

Enjoy! feedback is always welcomed :)

• • • •

Michael’s holding your hand as he weaves through the New Year’s Eve traffic. The leftover snow glitters from the neon signs of bars and restaurants that are already flooded with New Year’s Eve celebrators. The radio station is playing the top forty song of the past year, Michael’s thumb rubs over your knuckles and circles the diamond ring that hasn’t left your finger since last New Year’s Eve.

“Remember our first kiss?” he asks you, his voice soft and soothing. 

His voice was one of the many things you love about Michael. The soft timber was the only thing that can calm you down if you’re frantic over a busy schedule, and the scratch of it tickled your ears in the early mornings. 

“Of course I do, it was also the first time we met,” you giggle resting your head on your seat to gaze lovingly at him. The lights on the street flickered over his face, accenting his pretty green eyes and perfectly pink lips. Lips you’ve kissed since you were fourteen years old. 

“You missed my lips the first time,” he chuckles, eyes sliding over to you as he rolls to a stop at a light. 

“I was nervous! You were my first kiss ever.”

**

It happened in the basement of your (at the time) best friend’s house, she was having a New Year’s Eve party and it was your first boy/girl party to attend. It was mainly kids from school so you knew everyone but stayed on the outskirts of the party taking it all in. You were at the snack table when a call for a game of Truth or Dare aroused and you scampered away as fast as you could. 

On the other side of the stairs was the tv where Michael and his best friend Calum were playing video games. Michael had on his signature dark gray beanie, making his face appear more round but you could see his boyish charms were fading into a teenager. At first, you thought he was annoying because he was loud and interrupted the teachers. Then he made a joke that you laughed at during math class and you realized how funny he was. His humor is what attracted you to him in the first place. 

“You got me with a blue turtle? Fuck you,” Michael shoved Calum with his shoulder and your ears rang at the cuss. 

It’s weird hearing people you’ve known since you were six use swear words now. Growing up is weird. 

“Hey, Y/N, you wanna play?” Michael asked and you stared dumbfounded that he asked and that he knew your name. 

“I’m fine watching,” you shrugged, moving to the floor in front of him. You sit cross legged placing your plate of snacks in front of you and start to munch. Knowing your manners, you hold up the plate of goodies. “Want some?”

“Thanks,” he smiled and took a few pieces of popcorn. 

“Is the pizza here yet?” Calum asked, his eyes focused on his character. 

“I don’t think so. I think Casey’s mom just went to pick it up.” 

So there you sat, watching them play Mario Kart ‘64 laughing at their banter and even shouting at Michael to pull away from the wall or to watch out for a banana that’s in his path. The pizza arrived and the three of you remained in the back corner of the basement enjoying your smaller party. 

When midnight neared, Casey shut the lights off so you could watch the ball drop. Michael pulled you to the back away from everyone else and for some reason you had butterflies in your stomach. 

Ten minutes until midnight and Michael moved closer to you so his bicep touched the top of your shoulder. He was very tall and your arm zinged from the contact. 

Five minutes until midnight and he leaned down to your ear.

“Would you maybe wanna be my kiss at midnight?” goosebumps formed on your ear and you never knew that was even possible. You nodded your head, too scared to look at him because you’ve never kissed someone before. “Cool.”

Your nerves were heightened as it ticked closer and closer to midnight. The other kids were becoming louder in anticipation of the new year but you were worried about where to put your hands and how to turn your head so your noses don’t bump. 

The twenty second countdown began and Michael took hold of your hands. His were cool and soft compared to your warm clammy ones. He moved you in front of him, holding you close as his thumbs ran over your skin. It calmed you down a little. 

You stared at each other as it became ten seconds. Your heart was about to beat out of your chest but you were hypnotized by his eyes. 

“FIVE! FOUR! THREE! TWO! ONE! HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

Party horns and silly string exploded behind you as you leaned up on your toes to give him a quick kiss. You ended up kissing below his lips a little and on his chin but you still felt a shock from the contact. Embarrassed, you buried your face in his hoodie, your face hot.

Michael hugged you back with his cheek resting on the top of your head. 

“Could we try that again, maybe?” he asked politely. 

“Now?!” you squeaked in shock. 

“Or later,” he chuckled. “How about we go back and play video games?”

“Okay.”

He held your hand as he led you back to the tv area and you both sat a little closer to each other on the couch. 

“Hey Y/N?”

“Yeah?” you’re concentrating really hard on the tv screen and your fingers on the controller. Then you feel Michael’s lips smoosh on your cheek in a kiss. You’re frozen. Frozen in shock and heightened senses. 

“Happy New Year.”

**

Michael’s thumb is still rubbing your hand as you both walk into the lobby of the hotel. It’s still decorated from Christmas with a few blue and silver baubles for New Year’s. At the concierge desk stood Calum and his girlfriend who were dressed to the nines for a party they would be attending after the ceremony. Calum was in all black with a gold tie and a top hat to complete the look while his girlfriend had on a pretty silver dress that sparkled in the light. 

“How did we beat you here when it’s your day?” Calum asks.

“Got stuck in party traffic,” Michale laughs. “Love the hat, man. Is the officiant here?”

“Yup, he’s all set. We just have to get you in your dress,” Calum’s girlfriend beams at you. 

“Everything is in the room, right?” you ask, your voice shaking slightly from excitement and nerves. 

“Yes, but you can’t see what it looks like until after the ceremony. Come on, time to primp and pamper you!”

“I’ll see you in about an hour,” Michael says, tugging you against his chest. His long finger pokes your nose before he leans in to give you a soft kiss. “Breathe, baby. This is our day.”

“What are you and Cal gonna do?”

“I’m going to buy him a drink while we wait for you ladies,” Calum grins.

“Okay,” you sigh heavily. “I’ll see you soon.”

You hold each other’s hand until the last possible second, until it’s just your pinkies linked together and then you’re walking towards the elevator and he’s headed to the bar. 

Calum’s girlfriend covered your eyes as you entered the honeymoon suite you and Michael reserved for after the ceremony. You’re sat in a glam chair as someone works on your hair, two other people work on your nails and toes and another does your make-up. They’re all a well oiled machine and you close your eyes, seeing past New Year’s with Michael behind your lids.

On another New Year’s Eve when you were nineteen, you were with Michael at a cabin his parents rented out for the two of you. It became a tradition of yours to order pizza and play video games. But this year...this year was going to be special. When he picked you up in his old car and he kissed you hello, you felt different. 

The whole journey to the cabin was full of this energy you couldn’t quite place. It left you buzzing and in anticipation of what the night would bring. Sensing your feelings, Michael reached over and took your hand bringing it to his lips. You felt a surge of affection as you felt the shakiness of his breath on your knuckles. He was nervous too.

While you played video games and ate, you also had a drink or two as the night progressed. And as the night progressed, you became warm and filled with a burning you’ve never felt before. Michael was in the kitchen opening a bottle of champagne he brought and walked in with two gold flukes.

“For you my lady,” he handed you a glass then poured the bubbly in your glass. It simmered and fizzled the bubbles away while he poured his own. “This is called ‘34+35.’’

“What does that mean?” you asked while taking a sip then smack your lips together at the sweet taste.

“Probably the year? I don’t know,” he shrugged. “Hey! We need to toast first before you drink!”

“Sorry!” 

“To our five year tradition and anniversary,” he smiled looping his arm around yours. “I love you, kitty.”

“I love you, too,” you smiled then you both took a drink.

Two glasses later, you were both laid out on the large couch with Michael nestled between your legs, your lips connected in drunken kisses. Both of you are in your underwear and Michael’s fingers are dipping under the strap of your bra. He pulled it off your shoulder and his lips moved to the free space above your breast. 

The scruff of his beard tickled your skin, his lips so soft on your skin as he kissed it lower, lower, and lower until he pulled the cup of your bra down. Being exposed to the air and his hot breath made your nipple harden. Michael sucked it between his teeth and you gasped at the newfound sensation. His lips puckered around your mound while his tongue flicked and circled your nipple. 

“Does this feel okay?” he asked, his voice a little raspy.

“Good...good,” you nodded squeezing his shoulders, “really good, Mikey.”

After a few more light suckles, he pulled your other cup down and used his mouth in the same fashion. You closed your eyes at the care he was taking with his mouth on you. He palmed your other breast, rolling your peaked nipple between his fingers and you rolled your hips against his trying to tame the heat between your legs. 

Soon after, the rest of your clothes were discarded and you stared a little wide-eyed as he rolled a condom on his hardened dick. He pumped himself twice to make sure it was on properly, his lower lip caught between his teeth. 

“You’re sure?” he asked and you shifted your eyes to his face. 

There was so much love and care in those sea glass eyes. In answer to his question, you dragged him by his neck so he was on top of you. 

“It’s you, Michael. I want you,” you mumbled on his lips. 

It took some time because it was the first time for the both of you. Tears pricked in your eyes as he nudged himself inside you, even with the lube he brought it was forgein to your anatomy but each inch felt better. 

You were both breathing heavily as he adjusted, he was very patient and his careful care made sweat form on his skin. 

“You feel amazing,” he panted closing his eyes. His head drooped to your neck, hot breath fanning your skin and he began to rock. 

Each pull and thrust the burn between your legs lessened and was replaced with a new sensation that made your toes curl. It was special, it was hot, it was all brand new but you loved every minute of it because you and Michael were perfect for each other. 

Afterwards, he poured you both another glass of champagne as you snuggled under the large blanket watching the New Year’s celebration on tv. You hadn’t even realized it was the new year because you were so involved with each other. 

“New Year’s Eve is my favorite holiday,” Michael said.

“You’re just saying that because you got lucky,” you teased taking the bottle from him. 

“Yeah I got lucky. Lucky to have you as my best friend, my girlfriend, and now my lover. New Year’s Eve is our day, babe.”

“Forever?” you asked, holding out your pinky. 

“Forever and a night,” he grinned, linking his pinky with yours.

**

You’re adjusting the flowers in your hand as you walk towards the small party room where Michael is waiting for you. About a year after that first time, Michael started off on his music career and with timing and being on different continents, that was the last New Year’s you spent with him until two years ago. You still were in each other’s orbits silently cheering the other on on social media. 

You met up again on New Year’s Eve at a mutual friend’s party. You stuck by each other like glue, reminiscing and catching up on new adventures you’ve both had. Discussions of break-ups, stupid moments, and other memories occurred and when the ball dropped you were already kissing. 

“It’s just you and him,” Calum’s girlfriend tells you quietly. 

The music starts inside, the doors open and she walks down the small aisle laden with glitter paper and flowers. You adjusted your dress, a pretty champagne color and took a deep breath as you made your way to your best friend. Michael couldn’t keep his eyes off you.

The ceremony was short and simple since it was just the four of you. Michael’s vows made you cry because he brought up past New Year’s Eve moments. He held your pinky the whole time then when you were declared husband and wife, he cradled your face in his hands pressing a soft kiss to your lips. 

Your first kiss as husband and wife.

Photos were taken shortly after, then Calum and his girlfriend were off to finish the rest of the evening at a party. They offered their congratulations and happiness before you and Michael were finally alone. When the elevator doors open, he lifts you in his arms and walks across the threshold into your honeymoon suite.

“I’ll do this again when we’re back home,” he says nuzzling your cheek. 

The room is decorated with roses and candles. Near the window overlooking the city is a table with steak, shrimp, fruit, champagne and chocolate covered strawberries. The meal is delectable, the champagne is your favorite ‘34+35’ brand. Michael snapped pictures of you and you took some of him. Then you took one with your hands over the other capturing your wedding bands. 

“How about we take a bath?” he asks, already scooting his chair from the table. 

The bubbles are warm and so is the bubbly in your flukes. You share kisses that leave your lips tingling and soon you’re in his lap. 

“I’m having deja vu here,” he mumbles moving his lips over your jaw. 

“I hope that’s a good thing.”

“It’s a very good thing.” he sucks on your neck and you gasp. 

Shortly after, you shift back into the suite and fall on top of the dark gold bedspread. Michael rocks into you and you’re filled with overwhelming sensations. He drags his tongue between the valley of your breasts and you gasp out his name when he hits a certain spot. 

Your fingers link and your wedding bands clink together just as fireworks explode outside. It must be midnight. 

“Happy New Year, wife,” he pants, his eyes glazed over as he looks down at you. He gives you a kiss. 

“Happy New Year, husband,” you smile lazily then bite your lip as your toes curl. 

“New Year’s Eve, it’s always been you,” he sighs, knocking his forehead to yours. His hips move at a slower pace. “My best friend, my girlfriend, my lover, my fiancé, and now my wife.”

“New Year’s is ours,” you smile stretching your lips to his in a gentle kiss. “Forever…”

“Forever and a night.”

He lifts your arms over your head, starting the new year the way you know best, connected.

Taglist: @calpalirwin​​  @thecurlsofgod​​ @myloverboyash​​ @rotten-kandy​ @tea4sykes​ @jannimoeller3​ @loveroflrh​ @iovehemmings​ @cxddlyash​ @princesslrh​  @katiaw2​ @g-l-pierce​ @fairyintheglass​ @gosh-im-short​ @lukeisbaby @spicycal​ @mysticalhood​ @notinthesameguey​ @wastedheartcth​ @itjustkindahappenedreally​ @calumance​ @babylon-corgis​ @thew0rldneedsmcreycghurt​ @lanternlover2​ @istaywithmyjonas​ @calteahood​ @sarcastically-defensive17​ @another-lonely-heart​ @devilatmydoor​ @frontmanash​ @philthepegacorn​ @mantlereid @lukedorkyhemmings​ @addietagglikesbands​ @kikixfandoms @sanrioluke​ @mayve-hems​ @morguelth @haikucal​ @thatscooibaby​ @meghanrose05​ @idontneedanyone​ @dinosaursandsocks @haveufoundwhaturlooking4 @suchalonelysunflower​ @burstintocolor​ @zhangyixingxing1​ @dead-and-golden​ @mymindwide​ @everyscarisahealingplace​ @stardust-galaxies​ @blackbutterfliescal​ @redrattlers​ @lovelybonesetc​ @karajaynetoday​ @quasighost​ @i-like-5sos​ @creampiecashton​ @calpops​ @superbloomed-c​ @ophelia-enthusiast​ @iknowyouthinkimbulletproof​ @flaneurcth​ @dariangarcia

[flamminghotweedos]

A/N: MY. MOFUCKIN. BABY. BOY. POPE. I ship him with Kie so hard (I’ll rant later) but I gotta admit dating that awkward bb boy would be so cute and sassy ong

Word Count: 1601 (shorter one my b, it’s 4:02 in the morning 🤷‍♀️)

Requested: yes (thx you sm) #26, 94, and 97 all sound like things Pope would say while adventuring with reader and the rest of the pogues “the only way that would be a worse plan is if it came out of *insert character*’s mouth”, “why did we think this was a good idea?”, and “How the hell did you of all people come up with that?”

Pairing: Pope x Reader

Warnings: usual swearing

~Paint Job~

You had your mom to thank. Dear god did you have your mom to thank. It was just you, her and your siblings on the island, your dad passed when you were 12 from a boat wreck, but through that, you had your boys.

The Pogues, that is.

Your dad may have been gone but he left his business your mom had taken over. The surf shop on the Southside of the island was probably the nicest building around. It stayed a nice white on the outside and bright, summer colors on the inside. You loved it in there, mostly for the good feeling the colors gave off, but it was also the place you met your two best friends and now boyfriend. John B. and JJ had to introduce themselves first, the four of you being younger kids. Even as kids Pope has the biggest crush on you that only grew over time. Once Kie joined the group, one of the first nights you stayed together you admitted how much you liked the awkward kid.

“Go for it...because as much as I love the dude, he won’t make the first move,” she responded to you.

And boy was she right. It took the longest time for JJ to point out the obvious hints you constantly dropped.

And now, here you were, laughing with Pope as he threw tourist hats at you in the attic of the store. He was helping you move clothes in the shop before your mom started renovating it.

“Hey love birds!” JJ loved calling you two that, you mom exposing him to the nickname. Pope rolled his eyes and you both looked at the little hatch that opened into the attic. JJ’s blonde hair poked through and smiled.

“What do you want?” You laughed and threw the last hat at Pope who let it hit him with his bad reflexes. JJ climbed the rest of the way up the ladder, John B. and Kiara following him.

“We got bored and wanted to see if we could help renovate or move stuff,” John B. shrugged and smiled. You nodded and put your hands on your hips, Pope walking and hugging you from behind as you looked around the attic. Your eyes landed on the paint supples under a pile of blueprints.

“We could re-do the logo on the front,” you placed your hands over Pope’s and smiled when his head rested on his shoulder. You nodded to the balcony that was in the front of the building. No one ever went on it. You had a few times with your siblings, and had a few picnics with Pope on there, but no one else had ever been on it.

“Yeah just use that paint and go over it,” Kie pointed over to the paint supplies and everyone nodded. You each grabbed a tray, can, and brush. You started to walk to the small, square door that lead to the decorative balcony that faced the road.

“Don’t let the door close all the way, it locks from the inside and you will get stuck up here,” Pope noted as he followed you out, pointing to JJ who was the last coming out.

“Speak from experience, bubba?” John B. asked making you giggle. Pope nodded,

“Yeah, our fourth date was up here it accidentally shut and we had to wait three hours for her mom to come and put that ladder up,” Pope pointed over to the ladder that was still leaning against the balcony. You all chuckled at the memory and JJ came out, taking his boots off and using them to keep the door open.

You all began getting the paint ready, and you stepped to the edge and looked at the wall, the hot Carolina sun beating down on you already.

“Uh, hang on,” you said before your friends started painting. They turned back and looked at you. “There some Christmas lights hanging in the way. They must’ve fallen off the gutter,” you looked at it.

“Easy, we’ll just do this thing JJ and I saw in a movie once and I’ll toss it back up,” John B said, putting his brush down. You watched John B. lean against the wall, getting into a wall sit, and JJ move to him, smiling and showing off John B. as the two smiled dumbly.

“The only way that’d be a worse plan, is if it came out of JJ’s mouth,” Pope state making you laugh, JJ gave a joking scoff and pretended to be hurt.

“Yeah, I can find a step stool-“ you tried to reason but were interrupted.

“No please, come on let us try!” JJ pleaded and you sighed, looking at Pope and Kie who weren’t going to try and reason with them. You threw your hands up and watched John B. high five JJ before he stepped on his thigh.

“On three,” John B. said, “one...two,”

“Three!” JJ finished and stepped up on John B’s leg, reach for his hands with his foot. John B. was thrown off by the sudden count, catching JJ’s foot and trying to stand up, but slipped slightly, knocking JJ into the wall with a thud.

“It was on my count, bro!” John B. yelled once the two steadied each other.

“That’s what happened in the movie, bro,” JJ argued making You, Pope, and Kie laughed and you glanced at the door. JJ’s thud against the wall had knocked his boots over, slipping out of the way as the door began to close. You yelled for Kie or Pope to stop it but it was too late. JJ caught the string of lights and tossed it back on the roof. John B. then squatted back down slightly and JJ jumped from his hold on to the balcony with a thud.

“Well the door closes, thank you boys,” you gestured to it and picked up your pan of paint. Just as you said that, JJ landing on the balcony had caused the ladder to fall over, crashing on to the yard making everyone groan.

“Well...lets start to paint cause we’ll be up here for three hours waiting for Y/N’s mom alone,” Pope picked up his can of paint and brush and smiled over at you. And that’s what the five of you did, Kie pulling her phone out to play music and you all danced, vibed and laughed as you re-did the paint job.

Pope was right, you guys were up there for three hours. But it was reaching four hours now, and your mom hasn’t returned to town yet, the afternoon sun now hitting harder as you finished the paint job.

“Jesus it’s hot,” you fanned yourself as the others agreed. You looked over and watched as Pope nodded, unbuttoning his grey shirt and peeling it off his torso. Your eyes stayed glued on him and you admired his shiny, tone chest.

“You got a little drool, there, Y/N,” John B. Teased and poked the side of your mouth with his brush, making you gasp when you felt the cold paint touch your face. “Oh shit, I forgot I-“ John B. put his hands up in defense, only to stop defending himself once you flung your paint brush towards him, bright yellow paint hitting his bare chest. He gasped and JJ laughed from the side, you looked over and watched him dip his hand in his bright blue paint and fling it at you. You gasped and flung some back at him.

“Guys!” Kie yelled and you looked over, watching her fling her paint at you as well.

“Why did we think this was a good idea?” Pope mumbled from the side, making you look over. He smiled at you and you walked over, noticing how good he looked right now, but also the lack of paint on him. You took your paint covered hand and cupped his jaw making it drop.

“That was cold, baby,” he said making you laugh before pulling his face toward you, pressing a kiss on his. You then felt his hand hit your back, the sticky paint you didn’t know was on his hand now on your back. You gasped this time, laughing as every calmed down and tried to clean themselves off.

“Well now we really need down,” you said as you all got hotter. All of you looked around, trying to come up with a way to get down, or who to call in this situation.

“Why don’t we just climb to the over side of the roof and use the fire escape?” JJ asked from across the balcony. You all looked over at him, Pope speaking what everyone was thinking.

“How the hell did you of all people come up with that?” You all laughed and JJ shook his head again, stepping on the railing and pulling himself on to the roof.

~~~~~~~

[phykios]

people on ao3 were thirsty for this fic so... here you go, tumblr ❤ 

put on the red light M, sex work au, modern royalty au, no powers au  [read on ao3]

🌊🌊🌊

Sometimes, she really regrets being best friends with Piper.

Said best friend still gapes at her from across the table, jaw practically on the floor. “Never?”

Annabeth rolls her eyes. “Never.”

“Not even, like, at school?”

“When I would have had the time?” she asks. “I was attempting a five-year program in four years, and then… well, you know.” And she does know, all about the very exciting drama that went down in Annabeth’s senior year.

Piper is still flabbergasted. “Not even high school?”

Annabeth takes a sip of her drink. “I wasn’t exactly a hot commodity in high school.” She’d been passively pretty all her life, but she hadn’t exactly been what some might call Girlfriend material, capital G. She’d stuck to her fifteen year plan to the letter, eschewing most social contact, working herself into the ground to overcome ADHD by sheer force of will and get into Harvard, a plan which allowed approximately zero time for a boyfriend. Not that there were even boys that she had really liked at the time.

The only boy she had ever considered liking in that way, well. She had lost contact with him a while ago.

“I can’t believe this.”

“Believe it or not, Ripley, it’s true. I’ve never had sex. You happy?”

“I mean, if you don’t mind me asking, are you ace?” Piper asks. “Because that’s totally cool, of course.”

She shakes her head. “Definitely not ace.” She has a minor collection of personal massagers and insertable devices should she ever need to take care of an urge, and plenty of fantasies she can call on whenever the need arises--a system which has worked just fine for years.

“I just…” Piper stares, unconvincingly. “How?”

Shrugging, she takes another sip of coffee. “Just never got around to it, I guess.”

It’s not something she’s proud of, but by the same token, it’s not something that brings her shame, either. It is what it is; Annabeth, a notable workaholic, has never had sex with another person in her life. In some ways, it sucks, sure, but in other ways, it’s been a blessing in disguise. After all, no previous partners means that there’s no one to spread any dirt on the newly minted Princess Anja Elisabet of Sweden.

But Piper isn’t having it.

“Do you… want to have sex?” she asks. “Like, ever?”

As the daughter of one of the biggest movie stars in the world, she knows that Piper has had her fair share of high profile relationships, something that earned her a little bit of a nasty (and, quite frankly, racist) reputation among the paparazzi, which is ridiculous, since Piper is one of the most effortlessly gracious and classy people Annabeth knows. Piper does not go slinging herself and her partners around in the media like some of her contemporaries; instead, she likes to keep her personal details a bit closer to the chest, sharing them only with trusted confidants, like Annabeth, who knows full well how much Piper enjoys the act of sex. Sex for Piper isn’t dirty or taboo, it’s fun and it’s being close with other people, it’s liberating and exciting and intimate, and she extols its virtues whenever asked to give her opinion.

She makes sex sound really good, but never in a way that makes Annabeth feel ashamed for never having done it. Until now, of course. “Well… yeah,” says Annabeth. “I’d like to. I mean, I think it’d be kind of nice, you know, to do it at least once.”

“But then you’d have to start dating,” Piper surmises.

“Yeah,” says Annabeth, glumly.

Dating is a notorious problem for people in her line of work. Royalty, not architects, that is. Dating for architects is easy; just find someone who doesn’t mind the type A personalities and the obsession with work. Dating for royals is… significantly harder, and not really something she wants to engage with right now. She’s only been a royal for a few years, after all—she still feels like it’s a big cosmic joke, that someone is going to unearth some old documents or reveal a couple of forgeries that will bring the whole thing crashing down, and she doesn’t want to bring an outsider into all that drama, let alone deal with it herself.

Piper takes a sip of her drink, thoughtful, then lays out her next question carefully. “Have you ever considered a one-night stand?”

Annabeth stares. “You’re kidding me.”

“I’m not! People do it.”

“Yeah,” she scoffs, “people. Not me.”

“It’s really not hard,” Piper says, “I’ve done it plenty of times.”

“What, you want me to make a tinder?”

She laughs. “God, wouldn’t that be a riot. But no, I mean, there have to be other single royals or celebs around. Why not one of them?”

“Because they’re all insufferable social-climbing jackasses that make me want to rip my skull out of my face every time I’m forced to listen to them at a state dinner.”

“Okay, then.” Never one to be deterred, Piper pulls out her phone, then waits until Annabeth has taken a sip of her drink, presumably to keep her from immediately disagreeing, before dropping the bomb to end all bombs. “Let’s get you an escort.”

Annabeth snorts iced coffee directly out of her nose.

“Shit! Sorry!” Piper shoves a handful of napkins at her. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry, do you need water?”

Wheezing, Annabeth shakes her head. “Give me a sec,” she coughs, fingers covering her mouth.

Thank God she’s got her trusty, anti-pap hat on. If anyone took a picture of her like this, her uncle would probably disown her.

“What the hell, Piper?” she rasps when she can finally breathe again.

“I’m so sorry, I should have timed that better.”

“No, I mean—”  she coughs again. “The other thing.”

She raises an eyebrow. “The escort?”

“Keep your voice down!” On instinct, she glances around the London cafe, looking for any stray microphones. Satisfied that no one is listening for the moment, she turns back to her insane best friend. “Yes, the… that thing.”

“It’s not that crazy,” says Piper, turning back to her phone. “We’ll find you a really nice one, someone super high class and discreet, draw up an NDA, and then you can cross it off your bucket list. Man or woman?”

“Man, but—" she sputters. “I—I can’t see a prostitute! Can you imagine the scandal if it got out?”

Forget the iced coffee thing. The princess of Sweden, caught with a hooker… Annabeth is nauseous just thinking about the media circus.

“Not a prostitute,” Piper corrects. “An escort.”

“Isn’t that the same thing?”

“Same umbrella, but no.” She types away, faster than Annabeth can keep track of. “Pimping is illegal here, but escorts usually have managers.”

“Be that as it may,” because Piper seems to have forgotten the key part of this conversation, “I can’t have sex with an escort.”

“Why not?”

“Because…” The million and a half legitimate reasons not to go through with it all fly through her mind, getting lost somewhere on the way to her mouth. “Because!”

Piper just smiles at her. “I’ll get you a really nice one, promise. Think of it as a late birthday present.”

“It’s September.”

“Early Christmas, then.” And she grins, full of teeth. “Just trust me, okay? Let me take care of it.”

Famous last words, she thinks, popping a bit of scone in her mouth.

***

7PM, the Dorchester Hotel. Dinner first, then… whatever, later.

Annabeth can’t help but arrive early. She’d never been a punctual person before, but apparently now it’s been beaten into her with all the rest of her princess training.

Five-star hotels are still something of a novelty for her, even though she’s stayed in quite a few by now. Thankfully she’s never stayed here before; she’d be too worried someone on staff would recognize her.

She had thought that she’d show up early, psych herself up a little, get emotionally prepared, or at least have a little time to calm her racing heart before her… date… showed up.

Unfortunately, as punctual as she is, apparently, he’s beaten her to the punch.

He’s exactly where he said he’d be, wearing exactly what he said he’d be wearing; black suit, blue tie, gold watch. Her heart is beating so loudly, she’s sure he can hear it from across the room. “Um, excuse me,” she asks, a little more timid than she’d like, sidling up to the man. “Paris?”

At his name--well, she assumes it’s his name, but it’s probably a pseudonym now that she thinks about it--he lifts his head up, his lips already quirking up in a smile that she can only describe as troublemaking. “Bethany?”

Right. She used a pseudonym as well. A second pseudonym—one other than Anja. “Yeah,” she smiles in return, her shakiness easing.

“Hey!” He stands up from his seat in the lounge, leaning in and kissing her on the cheek. “It’s so nice to meet you!”

“You too.” She realizes with a pang; he is so tall. He’s tall, with broad shoulders and a trim waist, startlingly green eyes and thick, curly black hair. And… “You’re American?”

“I am,” he says, unashamed. “The accent gave me away, huh? Hope you weren’t looking for something else.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” she assures him. “I just wasn’t expecting it. It’s fine!"

He grins, crookedly, and she feels her heart skip a beat. “I’ll take it. Shall we head to dinner, then?”

***

Dinner was amazing, of course. The food, the atmosphere, and the company, she fully admits—all exceptional. Paris is an amazing conversationalist, she discovers, smart and funny and attentive, even gently teasing her a little. “You’re American, too, you know,” he’d said, sipping on his glass of wine, “so you can’t give me any grief over my lack of an accent.”

“I don’t live here,” she’d retorted, pointing her fork at him, “unlike some people I could mention.”

“Where do you live?”

“Ah, well—” Covering up her hesitation by taking a bite of chicken, she’d thought quickly. “Grew up in the States, but recently I moved to, um, Sweden, to be closer to my family.”

He’d nodded. “Expat, huh?”

“Something like that.”

He’d listened to her, really listened, chimed in at appropriate moments, made surprisingly insightful comments about her job and her life, and, well, he’s kind of perfect. If he weren’t an escort, he’d make an amazing boyfriend. She tells him as much, in the elevator on the way up to his room.

“Aw, thank you!” He smiles at her, a single dimple popping out under his strong cheekbones. “That’s very kind of you to say.”

“Why do you do this, anyway?” she asks. “I mean,” oh God, that question is some kind of faux pas isn’t it, Christ what the hell happened to all her etiquette training, “you don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to—”

“No, it’s okay,” he says as the elevator door opens. They’re up on a high floor, where the higher high rollers like to stay, and she follows him as he walks confidently down the hallway. “It’s not an offensive question.”

Still, she feels pretty shitty for asking. “I’m sure you get asked that all the time.”

“Most clients honestly aren’t all that interested,” he admits, shrugging a shoulder. “They need something, I can provide it. It can be a little transactional at times, but I’ve met a lot of really cool people, so it all balances out in the end.” Arriving at their door, Paris swipes his keycard, holding it open for her like some kind of butler. “After you.”

The room is enormous, even for a five-star hotel. It is a full-on suite, with a seating area and separate bedroom, a large wooden desk off to one wall, a gorgeous, floor-to-ceiling window that looks onto Hyde Park, full of lights dotted about like mini constellations. “Wow,” she breathes, “look at that view.”

“I never get tired of it,” Paris says, coming up behind her. “No matter how many times I come here.”

“You come here a lot?” she asks. She almost follows it up with a question on how he can afford it, but she ruthlessly quashes that down.

“My clients like it,” is all he says.

“I’m not surprised, all that 1930s deco in the lobby. The façade is a little plain, though, in my opinion.”

“Oh yeah? How would you do it better, Miss Architect?” She gets the sense that he’s teasing her. It feels oddly intimate for the situation—he’s not a friend, or a boyfriend, or even a date. He’s an escort. Providing a service, as he put it. He shouldn’t be so friendly with her.

And yet. “Well, I love Neoclassical, but honestly, I’m not super into hotels.”

“What are you into, then?” Casually, he undoes his tie, sliding it off his neck. She swallows.

“Um.” Focus, girl. “Office buildings, monuments. I dunno. I just want to… I just want to build something good, you know? Something permanent. Proof that I was here, you know?”

“Something permanent, huh?” He speaks softly, a respectable distance away, but she’s drawn in anyway, by his open shirt collar and his easy demeanor and his stupid sea green eyes that remind her so much of— “That sounds really nice.”

Then he steps up to her. His hand, warm and big, draws up her arm, fingers tracing lightly over her skin, and she shivers. He cups her neck, fingering the hair at the base of her scalp, and leans in, his lips parted. He smells like salt, like the perfume of the wine they shared, like the sea on a sunny morning.

“Wait,” she murmurs against his lips.

Immediately, he pulls back. “Is something wrong?” he asks, concerned.

“No, no, it’s fine, I just—” She swallows, her heart racing. “I just need a minute.”

“Of course.” He takes a step back, and she has to stop herself from pulling him in further. “Do you need anything? Water, champagne? They always stock the minifridge.”

She shakes her head. “No, I’m fine. It’s just, I’ve never… done this before.”

“What, hire an escort?” He grins, rakish. “I can tell.”

“Not that—I mean, yes, that too, but I mean—I’ve never—” She huffs, annoyed she has to have this conversation twice in one week. “I’ve never had sex before, okay?”

That shocks him a little. His eyes widen, taken aback. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” Chuckling weakly, she rubs a hand on her arm, looking out the window. “So… yeah.”

“So, don’t take this the wrong way,” says Paris, “but, there are easier ways to get laid than by using a professional. I mean, I’m grateful for the business and all, but, well, look at you.” He looks her up and down, somehow simultaneously respectful and entirely indecent. “I don’t think you’d have a problem getting a date.”

“It’s… complicated.” Understatement of the fucking millennium. “My friend thought this would be the easiest way to… go about it.”

Paris laughs. “You don’t agree.”

“I don’t… not agree,” she says. “I’m just. A little nervous.”

He nods. “I’d bet.” Chewing his lip, he looks towards the bedroom suite, and Annabeth tries not to think about how those teeth would feel on her mouth instead. “How about this; why don’t you take a shower? It might help calm you down a bit.”

“Won’t you be lonely?” she quips, a moment of reckless bravery.

“I have a few calls I can make,” says Paris, eyes dancing. “Go on. Make yourself comfortable.”

***

She has to hand it to the five-star hotels; the shower is always outstanding. Amazing pressure, amazing heat, it definitely rivals the plumbing in some of the castles she’s stayed at. And the robes, always so soft and warm, though a little on the small side. This one just barely covers her ass, which she figures isn’t a huge problem for tonight, but still.

When she steps out of the bathroom, she can hear Paris talking. “Uh huh,” he says. “Yeah. No, it’s going great. Professor Kleio said she’d write me a recommendation. She was really impressed with the last build. Yeah.” She runs her fingers through her wet hair, pushing it back from her face. “No, the conference is next month. Probably. Pretty sure I can get Tyson to help, but I don’t think it’ll get that far before the end of the week. Uh huh.”

Paris had taken off his suit jacket at some point; she can see it hung up in the closet on a hanger, perfectly pressed. He’s still in his shirt, but he’s unbuttoned it, the sleeves rolled up around his forearms. It is effortlessly attractive, even from the back. She coughs lightly, unwilling to startle him, and he turns, giving her another up-and-down, this one decidedly less respectful than the first.

“Hey, I gotta go, I’ll call you tomorrow. Say hi to Estelle for me. Love you.” And he hangs up.

“Your girlfriend?” she asks.

He smiles, all soft. “My mom.”

Something in her melts at his tone. “Aw,” she coos. “Is she back in America?”

“Yeah. I don’t get to see her all that often, so I try to call her every day.”

It is so unfathomably sweet, sweet and… humanizing, as weird as that sounds. He’s not just an unbelievably handsome man with a jaw cut like a diamond and a five-star rating, according to Piper, he’s a person with a whole other life that she knows nothing about. It’s liberating, in its own way. She can make mistakes with him, and he’ll understand. He won’t judge her, not against his other clients, or even his other partners.

Swallowing, she slides the robe off her shoulders, slowly, achingly. Maybe he turned the heat up while she wasn’t looking, because all of a sudden, she feels hot all over, from her cheeks to her chest and down, and down. Maybe it’s all coming from him, from the heat of his gaze on her, his pink tongue coming out to wet his lips. She wants it, wants them, wants him, on her and in her and all over her.

But he stays on his side of the room, waiting for her to take the plunge.

She steps up to him, close but not touching, breathing in the heady, strong scent of him, raking her eyes up his body for a change. Even through his shirt, she can tell he’s fit, the exposed skin of his arms tanned a deep brown, thick, coarse, dark hair running up to his wrists. On his right arm, there is a black trident long and straight, crossed by an old, white scar. “What happened here?” she asks, lifting her hand to trace it, leaving visible goosebumps in its wake.

“Sailing accident,” he whispers. “Long time ago.”

There’d been a kid at her summer camp for troubled teens who’d gotten thrown off his boat and hurt like that, once. She remembered so vividly, because she’d been on infirmary duty that day, and all she could think about while wrapping up his arm was how fucking stupid he'd been, how he could have gotten himself really hurt, how badly she’d wanted to kiss him.

She'd moved across the country before she'd gotten the chance, though, and no one else had ever made her feel like that since. Until now. “Got any other ink to show me?”

But instead of answering, he leans down, and he kisses her.

She’s been kissed before. She’s never had sex, but she’s done some kissing in her life. It’s usually pretty awkward, in her experience, too much of one thing and never enough of another.

Nope, not Paris. Of course, he’s also a phenomenal kisser. Why she expected anything else, she’s not sure.

His hands come up to circle her neck again, his thumbs running against her cheekbones. He kisses her, pouring passion and intent into her, his mouth soft and sweet against hers. And then he slips her some tongue, and it’s a whole different ballgame.

“Take off your shirt,” she whispers into his mouth.

He does, effortlessly, without detaching himself from her. It’s a smooth, easy motion, and she is delighted to discover that he is as firm as she suspected he was, the muscles jumping under her touch.

Almost without her realizing it, he backs her up towards the bed, her knees hitting the edge of the mattress. He lays her out against the sheets, his bare chest hot against hers. “Before we go any further,” he says, and she can feel the vibrations of his voice all throughout her body, “tell me—have you ever made yourself come?”

She flushes at his words, the dirty talk which should sound stupid but instead comes out all sultry and sexy. “Yes,” she says, breath hitching as he nips at her neck. “Yes, I have.”

“Good.” He smiles into the skin of her collarbone, traveling down, and down, and down. “I want you to show me how.”

“Isn’t that,” she pants, “your job?”

“Hmm, you’re right.” He pushes her thighs apart with his shoulders, bright eyes staring up at her as he licks his lips. “Let me get to work, then.”

Breathing heavily, she curls her fingers into the ten thousand count sheets, eyes fixed on the ceiling pattern. She can’t look at the dark head between her legs, can only breathe in through her nose as he kisses up the skin of her thigh, higher and higher and higher until…

Jesus fucking lord almighty.

***

“I found the perfect guy for you.”

“Piper, come on.” Theses brunch dates of theirs were starting to get a little repetitive. “I let you set me up with a professional, but I draw the line at a blind date.”

“Have I steered you wrong yet, your highness?” Piper asks, knowing grin firmly on her face.

Annabeth blushes. So what if that night with Paris was the most incredible experience she’d ever had? Doesn’t mean she’s ready for a full-on relationship, yet. “No,” she says, rubbing her temples.

“Great!” Then she does something that Annabeth doesn’t expect—she starts packing up. “So he’ll be here in a few minutes.”

“What?”

“Yeah,” she smiles, so bright it borders on painful, her nose scrunching up. “I invited him to brunch. But he’s really, really nice, I promise.”

“Does he know about—”

“No, he doesn’t, but if you wanted to spill, he’s a fantastic secret keeper.”

“How do you even know—”

Piper glances over Annabeth’s shoulder, eyes lighting up, waving a hand. “Friend of a friend of Jason, he’s a grad student at Cambridge, he’s doing his dissertation on naval history, so you know the king will love him.”

“Piper!” Annabeth half-calls, half-hisses at her friend as she stands up “Piper, you can’t just—”

“Hey,” says a voice behind her. A very familiar voice. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize anyone was joining us.” She turns around. Slowly. “Nice to meet you, I’m… Percy…” he trails off, sea green eyes widening behind a pair of thick, black glasses, beneath dark, curly hair. On his arm, a black trident stood out against his skin, straight and proud.

“Percy, meet Annabeth,” Piper says. “Annabeth, meet Percy. Okay, have fun you two!”

And she waltzes out of there, completely unaware of the absolute shitstorm she left in her wake.