#wet nikolaj

[circusfreak009]

Been gone for a while. Here's a present

#nikolaj coster waldau #jaime lannister #got #game of thrones #a song of ice and fire #wet nikolaj #the little mermaid #disney

[monstersinthecosmos]

Jaime lannister has the wet energy that is sooooo different from Marius's. Jaime L cannot be Marius. Ncw ❌

unfortunately I DID say I was going to die on this hill so you’re just provoking me to post more about it. I do agree with you that Jaime is very unlike Marius as a character but Nikolaj Coster-Waldau is a skilled actor who can play a range of roles! And also, this is strictly aesthetic for me. I did say, after all, it was a good face!

let’s look at it again!

This one reminds me me of when Armand axes down the door :

I went upstairs and heaved the battle-ax at the door. Of course it went through the brittle wood, shattering the painted panel, cracking through the old lacquer and the pretty yellow and red roses. I pulled it back and smashed it into the door again. This time the lock was broken. I kicked the shattered frame with my foot and it fell back.

In utter amazement he sat in his large dark oak chair looking at me, his hands clutching the two lion's head arms. Behind him loomed the massive bed with its rich red baldaquin trimmed in gold.

"How dare you!" he said.

look at that face and also the horny ankle cleavage

🚨 ALSO BONUS DRUID KIDNAPPING 🚨

😌🙏

#I’m 🥵🥵🥵 #Also tell me more about differnt types of wet energy I don’t think I’m familiar with this categorizing system 🍿

[mcgnussen]

“the best kevin” - a danish viaplay documentary about kevin magnussen (1/2):

brasil pole

k-mag did his outlap as quickly as he could to feel the track and noted all the wet patches and then remembered them all for his pole lap  

after his lap, it slowly began to dawn on people in the garage that maybe kev had done something amazing. jesper, relation manager of haas (and danish), and the press officer both realised at the same time what might be happening.the press officer basically punched the table in excitement.   

kevin actually hated the fact that the red flag came out. the track was already too wet for anyone to beat him, so then he was afraid that the track might end up drying up and other people would improve. it was torture for him to just sit and wait.   

his dad, jan magnussen, was at home with his wife (kev’s step mum) and son and they were just on the couch, drinking coffee as usual, and watching kevin race. he was so excited and moved by kevin’s pole, he also got a ton of messages from the stewart family, old teammates, racing drivers from all over the world, friends and family congratulating him on kevin’s pole. kevin’s wife (who jan calls lulu which is adorable) called him and wept tears of joy, kevin’s mum, britt, called him and wept tears of joy, his brother, erik, called him and wept tears of joy (erik magnussen is one of the world’s best kart mechanics and has trained kevin from a young age).   

erik magnussen on why kevin’s lap mattered so much: “it’s the product of 25 years of hard work. of all the many hours we drove in the snow and rain during the winter, with our hands so cold that we had to heat them up by the grill. all those ‘sour’ hours that we worked that all culminated in one perfect lap at the right time.” all that training is what has given kevin the right instincts to pull off that lap.  

luna kristofi (danish reporter): “[...] and then everyone who usually get pole just stood and waited for kevin. [...] he kept his helmet on and normally drivers do that to hide anger, but i think kevin kept it on to hide all the tears.” his physio, nikolaj, said that everyone were shouting kevin’s name, no one really knew what to do because they had not been in the situation before. he described it as the craziest 200 metres of his life.  

gene called kevin right after quali and congratulated him. he was pretty calm, but very excited and happy to see his car and driver on pole.  

random mai observations: kevin kept hugging jesper and nikolaj... and everyone else pretty much. all the haas staff got big bear hugs. official new piece of kevin lore: he is definitely a hugger. and it was also very moving to see so many different people congratulating kevin, there were staff from aston martin, from red bull and so on who all went up and congratulated him. the trainers from all the teams also went up to nikolaj and congratulated him and said that haas fully deserved it. kevin described it as the underdog story that f1 needed. it is clear that the whole paddock was excited for k-mag and haas, i also believe this is evidence of kev’s popularity within the paddock. like mick said then kevin basically knows everyone in the paddock.

the comeback 

kevin was in the studio for the last race of the season in 2021 and he believed that max verstappen would become world championship.  

he did not contact guenther after seeing that mazepin had lost his contract because kevin thought it was totally impossible. but then when he saw guenthers name on his phone, he guessed what his old boss wanted to ask him. kev said yes immediately, but then realised that he probably needed to talk to his wife and family, becoming unsure if it was the right thing to do. so he asked guenther for a day to consider it. jan said that kevin’s biggest worry was to lose out on time with his daughter.   

jesper heard the kevin rumours but did not actually believe it. however, kevin called him and said it was true. and all jesper could think of was that picture of herbie that k-mag posted, he thought that meant kevin had burned his bridges. but as kev said then it was just banter and he knew the team would find it funny. kevin says that haas is a very relaxed team, they don’t take themselves super seriously and there are no big egos. he is sure that other teams would not have found it funny.   

kevin was unsure if he could perform on the highest level from the get go. he was surprised by his p5 and he said the team went absolutely nuts. apparently one the mechanics cracked upon his lip during the wild celebrations in the garage. he could barely hear his engineer from the noise in the garage when he crossed the finish line in p5. 

jeddah and new physio nikolaj 

jeddah is the hardest track of the season when it comes to the neck which was bad timing for kevin since it was only the second race  

kevin said to the team to only fuel him for one quick lap per set of tyres because he could not manage to do two like everyone else did, his neck simply would not let him and he ended up losing all control of his neck and it just flopped around   

nikolaj, his new physio for the season, said that they have had to do a lot of treatment on kevin’s neck during the season. sometimes the treatments would even happen into the night and they would both be half asleep. and the treatments are painful, so kevin has really suffered through it during the 2022 season.   

kevin enjoyed being lazy during 2021 and admitted to not having spent a lot of time in the gym. luna said that it was easy to see he had not been hitting the gym a lot and they all knew he would go through a world of pain until he was back in shape. but kevin started working hard in the gym as soon as he signed the contract with haas.   

k-mag and nikolaj are really good friends. they like travelling the world together. in the documentary, we see them in the car planning a camping trip together.

#kevin magnussen #themagnussencorner #part 2 will be posted tomorrow! #formula 1 #f1 #haas f1 team

[ausaplenty]

Waves of memory come crashing

Alexa Myers. Kiara Scuro. Nikolaj. Gilbert Mead

“Lexie?” Kiara said the name aloud, careful, uncertain, like it was the first time she had spoken it.

But it wasn’t.

The sapphire eyes pointedly stared past her, refusing to acknowledge the woman or the blond man staring awed at her. Gilbert crawled over to her, their hands tangling together to anchor the pair before they were swept away in the overwhelming sea of new-but-not memories.

“Now you see?” Nikolaj pressed, more than a little frustrated with the duo. He stared at them, his brow furrowed. “You charm them?”

Kiara sucked in a deep breath, her lungs aching with the strain. “Always was good at them,” she ground out, her head pounding and her stomach roiling. She could see HER face. The face that had been swirling in her mind more times than she could remember.

The pureblood let out a wet laugh, crying from emotions she couldn’t explain. Pain. Happiness. Confusion. Anger. Everything was a mess and the bound brunette remained impassive, refusing to do anything except struggle against the enchanted ropes.

“We have to get out of here,” Gilbert muttered, forcing himself to stand up. His legs were wobbly, barely able to support him, but he still reached out a hand to help her up.

She grasped it, pushing herself off the ground in order to reduce his strain. They leaned against each other, drawing on the other’s strength.

“You OK?” Gilbert asked, trying to reassure himself.

“I’ll be fine,” she promised as she squeezed his hand. The grip was strong, almost painful, but it was what she needed. “I know a place to hide.”

#hogwarts au #Alexa Myers. #kiara scuro #Gilbert Mead

[dunderklumpen]

nikolaj coster-waldau in nattevagten (1994)

#nikolaj coster waldau #nattevagten #ncwedit #gotcastedit #young niko is a snacc #wet young niko is breakfast lunch and dinner jfc #spring chicken coster waldau #gif #gifset #:ncw #nattevagten (1994) #ncw!film

[frostedfaves]

HalloVeen

Pairing: Jake Peralta x fem!reader

Summary: Y/N’s first time winning the heist

Word Count:: 1.3k

Warnings: none

-

"Tonight is the night for the Halloween HEIST!!!"

I just rolled my eyes, a giggle slipping out as I watched Jake at the front of the briefing room. It was Halloween again, and all the past winners (Jake, Holt, Amy and Gina) were standing in front of the rest of us (Terry, Charles, Rosa and me--Hitchcock and Scully already tucked away in their nap room for the day), ready to explain the rules.

"This year, the past winners are going to partner up with the rest of you. To make it fair, we're going to draw your names out of this hat." Amy held up a black top hat and placed it on the podium, watching as Gina picked up a pile of folded slips of paper and dropped them in. "Alright, who wants to go first?"

"Me, duh." Gina closed her eyes and reached in, and we all watched as she read the paper before shooting a smirk at Terry. "Oh Terrence, I always knew we'd make a great team," she commented, letting out tiny signature Gina Linetti giggles as she skipped over to him.

Amy being the closest, went next. "Charles!" She smiled as she went over to him, immediately pulling him to his feet by his shirt collar when she was within reach. "If we lose today, I'm coming after Nikolaj."

"Actually it's Nikolaj," he whimpered as she let him go and he crashed back into his seat.

Jake and Holt made eye contact and dashed for the hat, Jake arriving first and closing his eyes just before reaching in. "Aha! Prepare to lose, everyone, because I just picked my favorite girl! Rosa, you're coming with me!" He noticed everyone looking at him strangely and laughed. "You're all definitely gonna lose if you fell for that one. Come on, Y/N! We've got work to do."

-

I was looking over the extremely detailed map Jake laid out on the table in front of me as he explained it to me, but I found myself looking over at him when I realized he'd stopped talking and was simply looking at me. Despite my best efforts to fight it, my face started to feel warm from the attention he gave.

"What is it?" I asked, mirroring his smile that started to form while erasing his signature focused-on-the-heist look.

"Nothing, I just..." He shook his head with a little laugh. "I just wanted to say thank you."

"For what, babe?"

"You're always here when I need you--whether I realize I do or not-- for good and bad moments. Always going along with my crazy plans. I especially appreciate your help with the heist, even though the thought of deceiving your friends in any way makes you panic sweat."

I laughed a little as I placed my hand on top of his. "I'd do anything for you."

His eyes seemed to brighten at this, and the sight truly warmed me from the inside out. "I love you so much." He grinned, leaning in to drop a quick peck on my lips.

"Aw, you guys," came from the other side of the room, causing us to jump apart.

"Jesus Christ, I forgot we came in here with Bill."

-

I watched as Jake cockily opened the safe with his "correct" key, faking shock along with him and everyone else as we discovered it was empty.

"Wait a minute. I put a GPS tracker in the cumberbund--"

"Belt."

"Come on, they'll never catch us on my bike." Within seconds, Rosa had helmets for her and Holt as they sprinted out of the bullpen.

"You don't think Terry can outrun a bike?!"

We all ran out to grab various methods of transportation, Jake pulling me back and covering my mouth to keep me from laughing as we waited until the shouts of our colleagues were further in the distance. We then turned around and walked back over to the bullpen.

"Alright, where'd you hide it?" I turned to Jake, noticing him fiddling with his cuffed sleeve in a way he only does when he's nervous about something. "Hey, you okay?"

"What?" He saw my eyes flicker to his hand on his shirt and quickly dropped both arms, brushing it off with a laugh. "Oh yeah, sorry. Just thought I heard someone coming back. It's in the file cabinet behind Gina's desk."

I jogged over to it, frowning when all I found in the drawers were files that honestly hadn't been touched in so long that they were starting to get dusty. "Babe, I don't think it's in...here."

I'd turned back around to find Jake in the middle of the bullpen kneeling on the floor with a tiny box in his hand. My eyes started to fill before they could even try to focus on the actual details of the ring, but none of it mattered when he began to speak.

"This is honestly the scariest thing I've ever done, so bear with me if I mess up this speech." A nervous chuckle fell from his lips as his own eyes began to water, and my heart threatened to burst right out of my chest.

"I love you. I love everything about you; the way you look, speak, feel. I love waking up just before you, sometimes choking on your hair that found its way into my mouth and nose at some point during the night. I love how many times you sat through Die Hard marathons just because you knew it would make me happy, or woke up early to make chocolate chip pancakes before work to help my day start off better than the previous one, despite not being a morning person."

"Chocolate is the most important meal of the day." I giggled and he grinned.

"I also love surprising you. You're the most intelligent woman and best detective I've ever met, so trying to get anything past you is next to impossible, especially because you're my best friend and I always want to tell you everything. But when I finally do pull it off and you get that look on your face, that smile that shines brighter than the sun, it makes it all worth it. You make everything worth it.

"I know we haven't really talked about marriage before, and if you do say no to this, I wouldn't blame you. But I would also really love it if you wanted to spend the rest of forever with me, because I'm ready to spend it with you. So Y/N L/N, will you marry me?"

My throat seemed to be closing up with the threat of oncoming tears, but I held it together long enough to say. "Jake Peralta, of course I'll marry you."

I grinned as he got up with a sigh of relief, quickly sliding the ring on my finger before I grabbed his open flannel by the button area and pulled him in for a kiss. Pulling away and looking into his eyes brought a laugh-sob mix from the back of my throat, and I quickly hid my face in his shoulder.

"Sorry I'm getting your shirt wet. I'm just really happy."

He tightened his arms around my lower back, leaving a couple kisses on the side of my head before leaning his own against mine.

"Calling you my wife means more to me than your leaky eye sockets."

I laughed and hugged him impossibly tighter before pulling away fully to look him in the eyes.

"By the way, I know the cumberbund is actually in the evidence locker."

"...belt?"

#queue #b99 fic #b99 imagine #brooklyn 99 #brooklyn nine nine #brooklyn nine nine imagine #jake peralta imagine #jake peralta x fem!reader #jake peralta x reader #jake peralta

[xtolovers]

The Song And The Silence

Rise of the Tomb Raider Lara x Jacob Rating: T

AO3

Jacob knows his duty lies with his people, not a woman that saved his life once. And still. As she is drowning in a river of ice, he is the first to admit that he has never been the smartest of men. But faith. Faith he has plenty.

So I replayed ROTR and I fell down the rabbit hole again. God, these two. I shook this out in an hour, and this ~might ~ become a series, but I make no promises.

This is not a song fic, but I was listening to Giants by Dermot Kennedy, and if something fits, I sits.

 I knew from the start    You'd be the one to set me free

Out of the corner of his eye he saw a flash of dark hair disappearing under crashing waves, followed seconds later by the falling power pole, buried in its wake. Jacob swallowed a shout as he ducked behind a boulder, catching his breath. Inadvertently, Lara ’s quick and nimble escape down the cables had been drawing Trinity’s attention, allowing him to slip away. Quickly he glanced over his cover, trying to find a glance of her beneath the waters, but found nothing. He ought to go, ought to leave her to her fate, even if it was cruel. He’d been gone for days, stuck in Constantine’s prison, and he knew his people needed him. Within minutes of careful treading he would be hidden beneath the canopy of trees, on his way to his village, his people, his duty. If  she was alive somehow and  not torn to pieces by debris or rocks, he might be able to save her, but it would cost him time that he owed to his people and holy purpose. It grieved him, but she ’d be one in a line of thousands of sacrifices he had had to make in the millennium he had walked this earth. A sharp whistling announced more rockets, followed by subdued explosions and a splash of water bursting through its surface. Jacob ducked back into cover, and a moment later the helicopter ’s droning sound got louder as it flew over him, back to the Gulag base, apparently satisfied in their purpose of killing her. And rightly so, in all probability. He’d seen her fight, and her very presence in the valley suggested she was capable, sturdy, athletic and lucky as well, but it would need more than luck to survive this. It would need the grace of God.

Jacob sighed heavily as he peeked over the boulder, checking whether or not the air was clear, before jumping over it and sliding down the hillside. The argument was over in his head before it had properly started; he was a rational man, but he was also a believer, and while his mind told him his duty lay elsewhere, his heart told him to believe in the notion he had felt when he had first seen her: that she was change. He headed to the edge of the riverbank, but could not see any movement or sign of her amongst the depths. Jacob was not surprised — the fall and the cold ought to have knocked her unconscious, if they had not killed her outright. He shrugged out of his coat and dove into the water, his muscles contracting sharply against the icy cold. With swift strokes he swam down and ahead, looking for her in the dark, dim, disturbed waters. Guide me. Drawing on his faith, he looked around, and there, to the right and below him, she was. Miraculously intact, not surrounded by a cloud of blood. In a few strokes he was by her side, shaking her slightly, but her eyes remained closed, her body unresponsive. Deftly he wrapped an arm around her and made way for the surface, his lungs slowly starting to burn. After a few moments that felt like eternity — not for him, but  to  him,  for  her — they finally broke through the surface. With effort he heaved her out of the water, hoisting himself after her. Hastily his fingers found the pulse point at her throat, barely stopping there to find a weak thrum, and sliding further to extend her neck back and clear her throat.Jacob had lost count how many times he had saved people from drowning, the movements were second nature. Not all lips had been as cold as hers though, and it worried him greatly. It was equally luck and misfortune that she was wearing nothing but a shirt — a jacket or cloak would surely have dragged her into the depths past his reach, but without such protection her body temperature was already dangerously low even before she had dropped into the icy river.

Maybe a little challenge might help her find the conviction. He pressed harder, feeling a rip crack under the heel of his hand. Regrettable, but she would be none the wiser, if she woke up. “Come on. Look at how far you’ve come…”, in wry sense of doom, he thought that she might return to life simply out of stubborn will. She had seemed the type. He leaned down again, giving her air, heat, hopefully life.  One, two, three  … And then, finally, a gasp, a cough, the river spewing forth from her lungs. Her body convulsed briefly in the effort to expel the water from it, and he slid his arm under her shoulders to support her. For a moment, a pained groan escaped her, her eyelids fluttered, before she slipped back into unconsciousness. Her lips were blue, her skin white and ashen, but at least she was breathing and shivering. If he could get her to a shelter and a fire quick enough, she would live. A small, relieved chuckle escaped him as he lifted her up, grateful for her slight frame and his slightly supernatural constitution. He sat her down on top of his coat, fighting a little to get her arms into the sleeves and wrapping her body in it to shield it against the biting winds— winds that felt even to him like sharp knives against his soaked body. Jacob gently lifted her in his arms and turned around, making his way carefully along the icy riverbank. The closest shelter would be the cave near the old sawmill; if God was willing, he would encounter Nikolaj or one of the other scouts. Konstantin had asked him about sabotage and skirmishes down in the valley, that some Remnant were held to be questioned below the old train yard, threatening him with killing them. If they were indeed there, he would not have to abandon his duty completely to save Lara. At least he could strategize and lead while he healed her, maybe even send word to Sofia.

The way was not long, but treacherous, and with the added weight took longer than usual. Eventually, he finally caught sight of the ruined roof of the sawmill. Climbing the frozen brook, he finally found some of his people, who were notably relieved at his sight, and visibly confused that he was cradling a foreign woman and fervently rubbing her arms — until they saw the colour of her face. With a few quick commands and traded infos, Jacob enlisted the help of two of his men to lift Lara up the steep cliff unto the ledge and finally into the sheltered cave. Quickly, a fire was started, and he sent his men out, one to report to the others, one to gather supplies. He gathered cloth and a tattered carpet to make her more comfortable, preparing a bed for her next to the hearth, hanging one blanket over the stove to warm. Methodically, he removed her wet shirt, pants and shoes, leaving her small-clothes to preserve her dignity, and hanging the rest to dry over the hearth. Kneeling next to her, Jacob pulled a pouch out of his pocket, and gathered some of the powder in his hands. Muttering the familiar words, he worked the herbs into her arms, shoulders, abdomen and legs, paying extra time to heal the rib he had broken earlier.

The Lord is your guardian, your protective shade at your right hand … Where his hands worked, her skin regained its peachy hue, now almost warm to the touch. Finally his fingers returned to her throat, satisfied to now find a steady beat there. Jacob stood and stretched, himself still drenched and shivering. He retrieved the blanket from the stove and covered Lara with the warm fabric, then gently toweled her hair dry with some cloth. . While he was stoking the fire, Ruslan returned with firewood, some dried boar meat, a freshly caught rabbit, and the herbs he had requested. They talked briefly, both catching the other up on the happenings of the past days. “Will you go to the village and organize the defense?” Ruslan asked, glancing down at Lara’s huddled form by the fire, questions clear in his eyes. “As soon as she is awake, and I had a chance to talk to her. She freed me from the Gulag, she is an ally to our cause.”  Or, at least I hope she will be.   “  Spread the word that she is to be helped, not harmed. ” Ruslan nodded, and left shortly afterwards. Jacob’s worries were eased a little, now that he knew of the situation— not as hopeful as he had wished, not as dire as he had feared— and that he had regained a small bit of control. He busied himself with a kettle, gathered and melted snow, boiled tea out of the herbs he had requested, in the mean time trying to dry himself of best as he could. While he was shivering, he refrained from stripping out of his wet clothes because he did not want to make Lara uncomfortable. It was unlikely she would wake up soon, but he did not want her to mistrust him because she woke up to find he had undressed both of them. No, freezing was better; it would not kill him.

When the tea was done and sufficiently cooled down to be drinkable, he gently lifted her upper body up, supporting her head sideways against his shoulder so she could not choke, and slowly, patiently dribbled the tea into her mouth. A good portion of the tea drenched both of them, but it was warm and did little harm, and she drank sufficiently. He dabbed the spilled tea up and bundled her up again after checking her temperature again. Warmer and warmer. Sipping his own cup of tea, he settled near the fire, trying to soak up the warmth. While he ate some dried meat to get his empty stomach warmed up to the idea of food, his mind wandered over the events of the last days, and not lastly, the woman that lay before him and the enigma she presented.

Jacob had heard her minutes before Konstantin and her had appeared in sight, screaming and cursing him, Ana, Trinity, spewing threats and insults, and as they rounded the corner, he could see, physically putting up as much of a fight as she could. There's no  us  . I don't even know who you are, or why you're here. Sorry... I'm not feeling particularly trusting right now. Now that they were out of there, the memory almost made him chuckle. Jacob did not know what had transpired outside of his cell, but the fresh, personal  hurt  that was radiating off of her was almost palpable in the air. She snapped at him, which was not especially surprising giving he was a stranger in an adjacent cell that she had just been thrown into, but then, immediately, the fire of her fury was tempered by guilt, and it seemed she could not stop herself from apologizing.Then, in a flash, while he was still trying to get her measure and trust, she had ripped a pipe out of the wall, clawed her way through a wall, ripped the bars open and was out of the cell. Of course he had known what she was here for— most of the foreigners that stepped in this valley were here for that. We  may not be enemies. I can see that. I suspect you do too.

It was almost comedic, how fast she relented, how hard she had tried to shut him out. He had watched her back, the wish to make herself hard and strong warring with her wish to find answers. Of course, he could not be sure of her true motives, but of all the people he had met, Jacob had his fair experience in seeing people for who they were. What he saw was an ally, not an enemy. What he saw was a determined woman on an almost desperate quest — but a quest not for her sake. What he saw was a light that some people, few amongst so many, carried within them. What he saw was a strong heart, struggling to be good, and a spirit that was confused as to what being good meant, and what it would cost. There used to be a time, centuries ago, where the same could be said for him. Jacob ’s heart ached for her fight. He knew it all too well. And he knew all too well the foolish mistakes that might come out of such aspirations, if left without guidance. He wondered what she could become if she had the guidance that he had lacked. Wondered, if he had had the same, his mistakes would have been different ones.

By then a deep fatigue gripped his body. His stamina was better than most people’s, another advantage of his gifts, but even he had to rest, and now that he had stopped running, the last days caught up with him. With a groan he stood slowly, and grabbed her now dry clothes. Gently and slowly he dressed her again, providing her with as much warmth as he could, before he made a bed for himself. Rationally, it would be best to share the blankets, to keep close and save and share the heat, but there was a conversation to be had, and he had to tread carefully. She came from a different world than he. So he made his bed a respectable distance away, still close enough to the hearth so both would be warm. He did not know what fate awaited his people, but for now, he did know that Lara would live, and he had learned to take the small victories as they came.

Jacob stoked the fire one last time, and then allowed himself to sleep.

  Will you remember those times That I have held until tonight

#Lara Croft #Tomb Raider #ROTR #Lara x Jacob #Jacob x Lara #jalara #Rise of the Tomb Raider #The Song and the Silence #ginster writes

[demivampirew]

Keep Calm and go to London chapter 18

The story is about Henry, not Geralt (only using this gif because it fits perfectly for this chapter)

Synopsis: This is the story of (y/n), a successful actress,  musician, musical producer and songwriter. After battling depression and  breaking up a long relationship, she seeks for a change of air,  escaping LA for a while going to visit some friends in London and there  she meets Henry. -Disclaimer: some chapters are mostly smut.

Previous Chapters:

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5 (smut)

Chapter 6

Chapter 7 (smut)

Chapter 8 (smut/roleplay)

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12 (smut)

Chapter 13

Chapter 14 (smut)

Chapter 15

Chapter 16 (smut/ s&m) Chapter 17

Triggers:   Smut (I know, too much smut chapters 😁 😂 🤣 , but this chapter needed to have smut, you’ll see why 😜 ); mention of rape, sex trafficking and panic attacks (while talking about a movie; only mention those words, not describing anything them in any way)

Tag list:  Here’s the incredible people who showed me support (thank  you    so  much for that) and people who asked me to tag them too  ☺️   (I    think  I will write a few chapters of this story, if you want me to  tag     you, tell me ☺️   ) @cavillanche @mary-ann84 @henry-owns-these-tatas @yespolkadotkitty @dancingwendigo   constip8merm8     penwieldingdreamer iloveyouyen  littlefreya  wondersofdreaming    alyxkbrl solariumss  sweetybuzz25 @thethirstyarchive @agniavateira   @honeyloverogers @hell1129-blog   @lunedelorient​  @michelle-1185​  

During quarantine, Henry spend lots of time cooking delicious meals, bread and desserts for the two of you. He pretended not to be good, but low key you knew that he wanted compliments because his food was freaking fantastic and you were sure he knew that already. He was in the kitchen preparing cookies for you an afternoon snack. Meanwhile, you entertained him dancing around, there were some real dance moves there, but mostly silly things that you did intend to make him laugh. Lizzo's "Juice", Nicky Minaj's "Anaconda", Rihanna's "Bitch better have my money", Bruno Mars's "24K Magic" were some of the songs you choose to perform for him. You closed your little show with N*Sync's "Bye bye bye" which make him laughed so hard that Kal barked at him. He mentioned that in his youth he made a movie with Joey Fatone and you were green with envy because you used to be a N*Sync fangirl when you were little. - What was he like? - you asked - Oh, he's great! Cool guy. If I ever cross paths with him again, I'll invite him to hang out so you can meet him too. - he replied - Oh yeah, baby. That'd be a childhood dream come true. - Have you ever meet one of your idols? - he questioned curiously - Hmm... yeah, I met Slash, he's now a friend of mine. He gave me guitar lessons. - You learned to play the guitar with Slash from Guns n' Roses? - he repeated your words as a question due to the surprise revelation - No. I was already pretty good. He gave me lessons on how to improve my guitar solos. It was A-M-A-Z-I-N-G! I've learnt so much with him and improved drastically my habilities. - you explained - I've also met Duff and he is cool too. I met Nikolaj Coster-Waldau from Game of Thrones, he's one of the sweetest people I've ever met. I met my now friend Annie (Hathaway), which you must already know because we worked together in my first acting role and she is a mentor, she truly helped me a lot to become a good actress. - you paused, thinking and after a few moments continued.- I've met Robert De Niro, he played my dad in the movie that you didn't see - previously you have had a conversation in which he confessed to having seen three on the four movies that you made in your short but successful career as an actress. You advised him not to watch the movie, because you played a woman caught in sex trafficking and there were a lot of rape scenes and you thought he may be affected to see you like that, even you had panic attacks after filming that movie and never watched again after the premiere. You couldn't even see Cillian Murphy anymore, another co-star in that movie, because he was the villain and there was a much graphic scene in which his character raped yours. "Only the twisted mind of Darren Aronofsky could come with a story dark as that one," you told Henry laughing because you liked the director, he was a good man, but with a weird taste for disaster and dark psychology-.  You talked about meeting people that you admire and he mentioned Russell Crowe, Tom Cruise and Guy Ritchie, among others. As you predicted, the cookies were delicious. Your boyfriend was, definitely, the perfect man. Not only he was the sweetest, you two never fought, but he was also an amazing lover - he even made out a rule that you that to tell him if you didn't have an orgasm (or wanted more) so he could take care of that because those moments were made so both of you could have a great time and not just him. And, on top of all of that, he cooked for you amazing dishes and desserts. He was the definition of perfection. - Someday you're going to get tired of cooking for me and that'd be my doom. - you pointed out as you ate the tasteful cookies. - Not at all. I'll never get tired of cooking for the woman I love. - he assured you smiling. You chocked with the cooking you were eating and recover a few seconds later and starred at his face with an expression of full shock in yours. - What did you say? - you demanded him to repeat his words - What? I've said that I love cooking for the woman I love.- he repeated without understanding what was wrong with his words. - "The woman you love"? Do you love me? -you asked astonished - Absolutely.- he admitted with a smile on his face- I've been in love with you practically since the time I asked you to be my girlfriend, I just thought that you were going to think I was crazy and was too soon for saying the L word. - I felt the same way. I wanted you to be the first to say it. -you confessed him. - So, we are in love with eachother.- he confirmed with happiness written on his face; the kind of happiness that a child would experience on Christmas day if he/she received exactly what was expecting. You stood up from the table and run into his arms, as he embraced you for your first kiss after knowing that you were in love. Hours later, Henry was back again in the kitchen. This time he was planning to prepare dinner for him since you told him the cookies made you feel full and you didn't want to eat anything else for the day. He was preparing everything that he needed, when you showed up in the kitchen wearing nothing but translucid bran with pastel green colour and white flowers on it. The bra was delicate and made your breasts look amazing. You also wear a white thong and white stockings and stiletto heels pumps. You left Henry speechless. You got closer to him, put your arms around his neck a started to kiss him. You could feel his hands sliding through your back reaching your ass and grabbing it. That made you laughed and he joined you. You looked at his eyes and suggested him to take things to bed. You indicated that you couldn't wait anymore to properly celebrate the fact that you loved each other. He picked you up, holding you by your thighs and walked to the bedroom. He left you on the bed as he turned to close the door and took his clothes off. He got on the bed and then slowly slid your thong and then throw it away. Grabbing you by your thighs, he began to pleasure you with his mouth. He loved to stroke your clit with his tongue, grabbing it and sucking it as well. He could do that for long periods. You were used to him putting his fingers inside your underwear and make you cum over and over. He'd do that at least three or four times per week -without counting that you had sex every single night and some mornings as well. He always wanted to take you and satisfy his desires but also wanted to make you happy. He couldn't get enough of you, and the feeling was mutual. You could feel him tasting you, after several orgasms, you were dripping wet. He climbed on top of you and kissed you, grabbing your lips with his. He grabbed a condom from the nightstand and after putting it on, he put his member inside of you, making you burned inside. It felt so good. He would go from slow movements to really fast pound. He had both of his hands on the mattress and your's were on his neck. He would separate his mouth from yours from time to time only to be able to kiss your neck and breasts. He knew how much you needed the touch of his sweet lips on yours; to feel his tongue dancing inside your mouth. You put your arms on his back and dug your fingers on his back, followed by your nails scratching his back. That made him insane. He had shaved two days before that moment, but his beard started to grow again. He also left he moustache to grow. It was still on its early stages, but still made you tingle and it felt so amazing, especially when he was with his head between your legs. He made you stood up from the bed and then grabbed you by your thighs once more, as you entwined your arms around his neck and he started to thrust you. Your body was on flames. The fact that he was strong enough to fuck you while holding you amazed you. For moments, you would free one of your hands just to stroke his arm, as his muscles tense. He sat on the edge of the bed and continued to pound you, buried himself inside of you deeper and deeper each time. You pushed his back against the mattress, kissed him with burning passion and then started to ride him, placing your hands on his majestic hairy chest. Then, you enlaced your hands with his while you continue to move up and down his cock. He pulled your hands into his lips, kissing both of them, one at the time. You put your chest against his and whispered on his ear "You're mine, baby. You're mine and I'm yours", he looked into your eyes. Just as he thought he couldn't want you more, you told him everything he wanted to hear, that you were his. He remembered at that moment that if he wasn't for your ex, he'd been the only man you have been with. That thought made him feel both jealous and lucky at the same time. Another man had you before him, but he intended to be the only man you'll be with for the rest of his life. You were his. He wasn't the kind of man that would treat you as an object, as something that could belong to him, but you were his woman, he loved you and would make sure that you'll want him forever over anybody else because he could not stand the idea of losing you. You were his angel and he would love you and protect you and hopefully make you as happy as you made him. Life with you was a paradise. You woke up due to the need to drink some water. You had your head pressed against Henry's chest. You had sex until the sunrise. You felt so tired after that amazing night. You checked your phone to see the time and to your surprise, it was midday. You got up and decided to prepare lunch for the two of you. You starred at him for a moment before leaving the bedroom. Seeing him sleep so peaceful felt like a warm hug. You were so lucky. He was amazing and he loved you as much as you loved him.

#henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill x reader #demivampirew

[therealjordan23]

i know u usually dont write in the b99 fandom, but can u do some charles boyle angst?

Sure anon :) Takes place after S7E3, Pimemento

ooo

"Boyle?" a voice asked behind him.

Charles swiveled around in his chair to find Rosa staring at him, her expression concerned and confused.

"Hey, Diaz," Charles commented, not bothering to give her another glance, keeping his gaze focused on the case sitting on his desk.

Rosa frowned: it wasn't unusual for anyone to call her Diaz, but coming from Charles? It made her feel uncomfortable, so she set a hand on his shoulder. She noticed him tense up from the contact, and she immediately guessed something had happened between him and Jake.

"What are you doing?"

He let out a groan. "A case, what else?"

Now she was sure something had happened between Charles and Jake. She gripped his shoulder tightly, and spun him around so that he was facing her. To her surprise, Charles didn't shy away from her intense scrutiny like he, or anyone, usually would. He glared right back at her, giving her a harsh look, but Rosa didn't flinch: she knew he wasn't going home, he spent his free days at work, and his wife and son were getting worried. It was also pretty visible that he wasn't acting like his usual self: he was growing out a heavy stubble, there were bags underneath his eyes, and he usually smelled of alcohol. Rosa noticed that he never wore his usual plain shirt, khakis, tie, and dress shoes anymore, opting for a simple NYPD hoodie and jeans. While it wasn't a bad outfit, she knew it wasn't approved by Captain Holt, along with the fact that it was out of character for Charles.

"Take your hand off my shoulder," he mumbled, his voice cold.

"No," Rosa said curtly. "I know something's up, and I want to know what it is. You're never like this."

He let out a harsh laugh, standing up, ripping his shoulder away from her tight grip. "I think that's the problem! Maybe I should be like this more often." With that, he headed towards the evidence room, slamming the door shut behind him.

Rosa spent the day watching the surveillance footage from the evidence room: Charles sat down at the spare desk, finishing cases with alarming speed. He would grab another one off the shelf, and would solve it so fast, she was positive that even Jake couldn't keep up.

Knowing she wasn't going to get to Boyle, she decided to go talk to Jake.

"Peralta," Rosa frowned, crossing her arms, looming over him. "What's up with Boyle?"

Jake frowned. "How should I know? I haven't seen him all day."

"He's in the evidence room, because he doesn't want to face any of us," she said plainly, and his eyes widened.

"Damn," he groaned. "I knew he would make it a big deal."

"Make what a big deal?" Amy asked, stepping over to them.

Jake sighed. "Rosa, remember when Amy told you we were going to try for a baby? Well, Charles didn't know, until last week, when Pimento came in with his memory loss. I told Adrian, because I assumed he would just forget what I told him. But… he didn't, and ended up telling Charles."

Rosa glared at him. "Jake—"

"I know it was wrong, but Amy didn't want him to know. Charles was really hurt, and he said he couldn't remember why we were even friends," Jake ran his fingers through his brown locks. "He was also angry that I kept blowing him off."

"But I thought you fixed all this." Amy frowned.

Jake sighed. "We did… I don't know what the problem is now! If anything, he's the one blowing me off!" Jake cried dramatically.

Rosa nodded. "I'll go talk to him."

She walked towards the evidence room, and knocked on the door. "Boyle, open ip. It's me. I need an old case file."

Rosa heard him trudge towards the door, and he slowly unlocked it, not bothering to look at her. He walked back to the spare desk that lied in the evidence room, keeping his eyes on the case. Rosa shut the door, locking it behind her.

"Alright. We need to talk."

Charles stared at her in disbelief. "You lied to me just to get in here?"

Rosa rolled her eyes. "Whatever. Tell me what's wrong, Charles. This isn't you."

He smirked. "Well, maybe I'm sick of being myself. Maybe… maybe if I wasn't myself, Amy would have trusted me with the news of her and Jake trying for a baby. Face it, Diaz, I'm just not one of the gang. I'm not you, or Holt, or Amy, or Terry, or Gina! I'm just… on the sidelines, connected to Jake: somebody who doesn't even want to be connected to me." Charles shut the last case he was working on, and let out a small groan.

Before Rosa could reply to the shocking words he had just said, he added, "Can you tell Holt that I'm going to go home? Niko will still be at school, and Genevieve won't be home for another 2 hours. Maybe I can get a quick shower in."

Rosa felt her heart shatter at the sight of the man who knew her best falling apart—she wanted to help, but how could she? These were Boyle's own feelings of not feeling adequate or as "in" as the rest of the group. He felt like a black sheep, and that was understandable. How was she supposed to help? What was she supposed to say? It was usually Charles reassuring the group, Charles holding them together, Charles giving them advice: they had been so busy with their own problems, that they were completely oblivious to Boyle's misery.

They were selfish.

Boyle grabbed his things, and before he could exit, he turned to her. "You know? After my divorce, there were only a few things keeping me from falling apart: my parents, my dogs, and… and this precinct, including the people in it. I care about everyone here more than myself… it just hurts to know that they don't feel the same way."

With that, he left her alone inside the evidence room. She eyed the desk where he had been working, and sat down at the vacant chair.

ooo

There was a gentle tap on her shoulder, followed by another persistent tap.

"Rosa?"

Rosa blinked. Where was she?

"Amy? God… where am I?" she asked, rubbing her eyes.

"The evidence room. You've been in here for almost 2 hours." Amy frowned.

Rosa stretched. "I guess I was just… thinking."

Amy leaned on the desk. "About?"

"Boyle,"  Rosa answered. "And how awful we are to him."

Amy snorted, and opened her mouth to protest. "Rosa—"

"Amy!" Rosa snapped. "He keeps this precinct glued together! He makes sure we're okay, he supports Jake to no end. In fact, his and Jake's friendship is one sided! Have you ever seen Jake supporting Charles, to the extent that Charles supports him?!" she began ranting.

Amy was taken aback. "Rosa, you need to calm down—"

"No!" Rosa snapped. "He took 2 bullets for me! We spent 2 years calling him Mr. Grapes, which I know was a joke, but it must have been hurting him! He… he loves us, but we haven't been great about showing him that we love him back. That's why he's been down! That's why he's been avoiding us, his family, and it's also why he's been staying here, solving more cases than you and Jake solved during your little bet!"

Amy scoffed. "That's impossible… Charles isn't even that smart, he can't—'"

Rosa shoved one of his finished case files into her hands, and she opened it, studying the contents. Amy's eyes widened: his notes were clean and detailed, his writeup went above Holt's expectations…

"He said he was too afraid to 'take anyone's thunder'." Amy managed weakly, the truth of Rosa's words sinking into her.

"Because he puts other people's needs in front of his own," Rosa said quietly and bitterly. "Remember that airplane ride back to Brooklyn? After you gained intel on Figgis? Who was reassuring you?"

"Boyle was."

"Who convinced Jake to carry on with your relationship?" Rosa prompted.

"Boyle did."

Rosa seethed. "Who set up your goddamn wedding?!"

Amy grew annoyed. "Boyle did!"

Rosa chuckled. "And you couldn't trust him with the fact that you and Jake were trying for a baby."

Amy felt tears prick her eyes. "I didn't know it would hurt him that bad!"

"Because we don't care about his emotions!" Rosa cried. "He cares about us, but we don't care about him… what kind of friends are we?"

With that, Rosa left Amy inside the evidence room. She grabbed her motorcycle helmet: if Amy was right about the fact that she had fallen asleep for 2 hours, Boyle should have just been leaving his house, especially if he didn't want to be discovered by his wife and son.

"Detective Diaz!" Holt called, but Rosa ignored him. She ran towards the stairwell, dashing for her motorcycle. She needed to see him. She needed to talk to him.

Amy ran out of the evidence room. "Where did she go?"

Jake frowned. "She left, and took her motorcycle helmet and left. What's wrong?"

Amy grabbed her keys. "I just watched the surveillance footage, before Boyle left the building. He looked really hurt. I think he's in trouble." Before Jake could ask anymore questions, Amy left the precinct, and Jake was quick to follow.

ooo

Rosa pulled up to the Boyle household, inspecting the building: his car was still out, so he had to be here.

"Charles!" Rosa snapped, pounding the door.

When there was no answer, she felt a sinking feeling in her gut, and she didn't hesitate to grab her gun. She found herself shooting the doorknob, and kicking the door down.

She heard soft sobs coming from Nikolaj's bedroom, so she quietly crept her way towards it.

"I'm so sorry, buddy," Charles whimpered, clutching his son's shirt. "I thought I'd be strong enough for this, but I… I can't do this." he sniffled.

Her eyes widened when she spotted a knife near him. When he reached for it, she didn't hesitate to kick the door open. She tackled him, and punched him across the jaw—he didn't get angry like she expected, in fact, he didn't respond at all. He squeezed his eyes shut, allowing his tears to flow freely, and Rosa pulled him into a hug: they stayed like that, with her holding him, running her hands through his hair. He buried his face into her chest, and she felt her jacket become wet with his tears, but she didn't care.

That's how Jake and Amy found them: with Charles clutching onto Rosa for dear life, a knife just a few feet away from them. Jake slowly walked inside the bedroom, dropped onto his knees, and wrapped both Rosa and Charles in a hug, gently resting his chin on top of Boyle's head. Amy was quick to join, wrapping her arms around Boyle's waist, pulling him in close.

No context was needed. 

ooo

I love Charles and Rosa’s friendship.

I know I made Jake and Amy seem like antagonists here, but the sad part is, it isn’t even that far off from their usual behaviour towards Charles. It doesn’t sit right with me when he’s treated like shit, so... guess I just made my own form of justice for him. 

#brooklyn nine nine #brooklyn nine-nine #b99 #charles boyle #jake peralta #rosa diaz #amy santiago #pimemento #ask #fic #angst

[ddagent]

Lol the anon who is still thinking about Nikolaj's very cute bum WEEKS later. Lol, my first thought was porn star au but I didn't have enough imagination to figure out how B would believably get into the industry (there's a reason you're the writer and i'm the reader) so I went leaked unintentional sex tape route but now that you've said it I have to prompt: porn star au please

Anon, I do not blame you: I regularly think about Nikolaj’s cute bum. I love my environmentally friendly danish pastry. ANYWAY, I have a couple of ideas relating to JB + porn: I, too, struggled with Brienne getting into the industry, but I could totally see her doing unsimulated sex for a proper film. And, also, I have porn star!Jaime/fan!Brienne. Which is what I shall write for you now, because I want to write some filth. This is probably not for the faint of heart, but I hope you enjoy. 

Brienne was looking through her latest student essays when her phone buzzed beside her. Grateful for the respite, she put the papers to one side and reached for the device. Perhaps it was her new tenant needing help with the boiler. But it was just Margaery, who had only left two hours ago. 

Margaery: I KNEW I recognised your renter B4!! FUCK B, check out this link: www.littlefingerlegends.com/vid/74561

A crease formed across Brienne’s forehead. Jaime Lannister had seemed nice enough when he’d replied to her ad looking for a tenant downstairs. He checked all her boxes: non-smoker, polite (well, not overly rude), no musical instruments, had first, last and a deposit. Of course, when her friend Margaery had found out she’d rented the flat downstairs to a man, she had to check him out. And check him out she had. 

“I know I recognise him from somewhere,” she’d whispered to Brienne, ogling him blatantly in the stairwell. “I just can’t think where.”

“He’s probably a model,” Brienne had explained. “He’s certainly—”

Brienne’s assertation that her new neighbour was attractive had certainly distracted Margaery from his identity. Long enough for Jaime to head into his own flat, and for Brienne to usher her friend upstairs where she spent the majority of her visit checking fashion shows and perfume ads, and giving Brienne tips on how to seduce the renter downstairs. Not that she was even interested. As if he ever would. 

I told you he’s a model. 

Margaery: He is NOT a model. Just watch, B, and use your 7mas present from urs truly. 

She shot a sideways glance at her bedside table and the vibrator inside, still in its original packaging. Where it would remain, no matter what this video was. Brienne knew she should respect Jaime’s privacy. But she also knew that Margaery would badger her until she viewed it. And...she really didn’t want to read any more inaccurate interpretations of Goldenhand the Just. So, Brienne’s thumb pressed the link included in Margaery’s text. 

A site sprang up in colours of black and gold. The video was entitled ‘The Queen and her Guards’. Hmm. Maybe Jaime was in a documentary series. She imagined they needed actors for those silent reenactments. So Brienne settled against her pillows and watched. A tall, blonde woman in flowing blue robes entered the frame. A silver crown rested atop her head. A door opened, and in walked her downstairs neighbour! Jaime was dressed in a rather poor imitation of the Kingsguard armour. One snap and those things would come straight off. 

“Your Grace, your silence worries me so.”

“Lord Commander, I am silent out of grief. Grief for a pleasure I will never experience again. My husband offers me no passion in our marriage bed.”

What. The. Fuck. 

“You should have said something, Your Grace.” The camera panned close to Jaime as he wet his top lip. “There are seven of us who would gladly serve our Queen, in any way you wish.” 

No...Brienne’s eyes widened, yet she could not look away.

The actress on-screen placed a hand atop her forehead. “You mean, you all would pleasure me? But you swore an oath—”

“—to take no wife, to father no children. That does not mean we can’t fuck your cunt, Your Grace.” 

Brienne was affronted on behalf of the brave men of the Kingsguard who would be disgusted that the white cloak had been tarnished in such a fashion. But then the actress playing the Queen tore off Jaime’s white cloak. And his armour. Soon enough, her downstairs neighbour was in nothing more than his nameday suit. Taut muscle; firm cock. Brienne gasped as he took himself in hand and pumped his shaft. 

“Brothers, get in here. Let’s serve our Queen.”

Brienne lay, hand over her mouth, as she watched six other...porn stars enter the frame. They were all young and golden and handsome, but not nearly as captivating as Jaime. Whilst the camera wanted you to focus on the six men touching their Queen – and each other – Brienne was focussed on her downstairs neighbour. The way he stroked his cock; how his thumb would swipe over the head and the moisture beading at the tip. Her body flooded with warmth; arousal stirring in her belly. 

“I should—”

Oh, but then Jaime was crawling onto the bed beside his Queen. One of her hands was sifting through his golden hair; longer than it had been when Brienne had seen him earlier that day, but no less soft, strokable. The Queen reeled Jaime closer and pressed her mouth to his in a searing kiss. Whilst the Lord Commander’s tongue slipped inside Her Grace’s mouth, one of the Queensguard began swirling his tongue around one of the Queen’s nipples. Brienne ran the palm of her hand over her own breast, feeling the erect tip through the fabric. She tweaked the bud until she gasped; the shame at touching herself to her neighbour washed away by sheer lust. 

“Is this what you need, Your Grace?”

Jaime’s hand slid down the actress’ bare form whilst Brienne’s knuckles brushed the crotch of her jeans. It didn’t take much for her hand to slip inside her waistband, or for Jaime’s fingers to enter the Queen’s cunt. Her hand mimicked Jaime’s movement; Brienne’s eyes transfixed to the screen as he fingered her clit before thrusting two deep inside her. The Queen’s back bowed, mouth formed into a perfect ‘o’, as two of her Queensguard began to suck at her breasts. 

“Fuck. Fuck.” 

The camera seemed to know who it’s moneymaker was, as it lingered on Jaime rather than the other six actors, or the young woman having her legs spread wide by eager hands. Brienne watched, the pads of her fingers rubbing her clit, as Jaime’s mouth left soft kisses across the Queen’s sternum and down her belly. And then he settled himself between her legs; one hand on the top of her knee whilst the other stroked himself even harder. Drawing in a ragged breath, Brienne’s touch grew firmer; two fingers inside herself, now. 

And then Jaime was inside her. 

In the few porn videos she, Margaery and Renly had watched back at university, Brienne had been put off by the seemingly gargantuan appendages the men seemed to possess. Jaime was nothing like that. He looked like a golden god as he took his Queen; his cock thick and hard and almost beautiful. The wet sounds of him fucking the actress sounded far too loud in her quiet bedroom, but they were soon joined by the noise of Brienne’s fingers sliding against her clit as she fucked herself in unison to Jaime’s thrusts. As one of the Queensguard lifted her leg to rest over Jaime’s shoulder, taking the Queen deeper, Jaime glanced towards the camera. 

It was at that point that Brienne came, biting her pillow so as to not scream her neighbour’s name into the stillness. 

#braime #jaime x brienne #mine: paragraph prompts #ship: braime #anonymous #now that i've written it all I want to do is apologise

[honestsycrets]

What She Really Wants III: Doppelganger

❛ pairing | hvitserk x reader

❛ type | multi

❛ summary | hvitserk encounters a surprise when he meets his long lost love.

❛  warnings | verbal arguments, explosion, fighting, single family, broken family. 

❛ sy’s notes | here is the next segment!

For those brief few seconds, your mind is racing. 

Magnus doesn’t call you Mor, and so you know it’s not Magnus. It’s your little boy. Your grown-up Mads who just opened that creaky door and found his absent father standing there in the hall. Your little Mads whose body is quivering as much as his voice was at the sight of a man who looks… so familiar. If he were fifteen years younger, they might have passed for one another. Except for certain looks of yours he inherited. 

“Mor--” he calls out in a question of a statement. You drop your sopping cloth, rushing around the corner. 

For those brief few seconds, Hvitserk’s mind is racing too. 

A little punk in your home. He thought he ran one off. Did you really have two little fuckers you were fucking? But as the door shut behind him, he realized something was off about this one. His eyes were flecked with green and shaped like delicious little almonds. His cheeks were full. Clearly well-fed, and his lips were slender, puckering as those eyes widened so deeply in recognition. 

Neither of them knew each other. But both knew.

“Far?” he whispers. 

It stings. It fucking-- it fucking stung him harder than any bee, hornet, or even that snake in India. You grip the edge of the breakfast bar a few seconds too late. Mads swallows a dry breath when his father fists his t-shirt, pulling him into his face.

“What the fuck is this? Who the fuck are you?” 

“Mor!” he shouts.

“Don’t give me that Mor fuckin’ bullshit you li’l rat--” 

���Hvitserk stop! He’s your son.” You hear yourself say. You take a few wide steps up to Hvitserk, grabbing his shoulders. That’s enough to make him pop off. 

“My son?! My son is dead!” He spins around, shoving your neck into the wall. A sharp pressure digs into your throat from his curling fingers. Mads lurches, and yet, you will him down with a hand. “You told me he was dead.”

But he’s not. You don’t need to say it.  

“You-- you fuckin’ bitch.” Hvitserk holds your frightened eyes for minutes. Then, leaving your throat, his hand slips off to your shoulder, balling up to punch just beside your head. His knuckles crack, smacking the same spot with each pained word. “You lied to me!”

“Don’t disrespect my mor like that! You’re the one who left!” Mads dares say, stepping to the side of his father. He grabs Hvitserk’s shoulder and whirls him around. His words punch the anger straight of Hvitserk’s stomach. “You left me.” 

Your skin crawls. It was your mistake to go with that lie. No, not your lie. Your mother’s lie. Except she was dead, in the cold cold ground. His face sears with hate you’ve never seen this close. You were told things. That Hvitserk’s fury unchecked could result in a beating. 

“I didn’t fucking leave.” Hvitserk thumps his head on the wall, as opposed to yours, holding himself back. His strong and intent expression shifts, looking at you through the corner of his eye. If you were carved of wax, you would have melted in your shame. “I was fucking pushed out. You think I’d leave my kids? My fuckin’... my fiance.”

His eyes grew heavy with the thought. As he thought of that day, fifteen years ago, Hvitserk finds himself tremoring. Your shattered family, his phone going off, surgery-- you called it. You had surgery. And that night. 

His jaw works as if he tries to hold back the words that curdle in his mouth, his shoulders tense with knots. He steps away from Mads, slamming in his steps to the door. Mads steps in front of it. 

“Move,” Hvitserk says, tapering in anger while reaching around him. 

“No!” Mads shoves him back, hard enough with his palms that he has no choice but to stay there rather than claw past his new-found son. One of them was going to lose control. It was only an issue of which one.

“Mads, let him go. I know you’re angry but--” you stop. Feel your body tighten up. A part of you knew that both boys wouldn’t understand why or how you made the choices you did. 

“He has shit to explain!”

“Mads Nikolaj—“

“You called him Mads.” Hvitserk throws his hands behind his head. He grins like a savage, feral thing as he walks away from the door and deeper into your house. “You knew what you were doing that night.” 

You were planning it all out. Leaving him… it hadn’t been some spur of the moment decision, no. You planned to leave him. 

To take his son away from him. 

All fifteen years of him. It takes all of his effort to simply stare at the clock, to pretend like a pendulum of his patience wouldn’t strike into an explosion. Mads looks askance at you, and then to his father, eager to ask him something new. 

“Go to your room.” 

“But Mor I have questions--” 

“NOW Mads.” 

The shuffle of footsteps tells him that Mads has gone to his room. Wherever that was. All your secrets, out in the open. Lies. Lies is what they were. Ones to placate Mads in the easiest way how. By blaming Hvitserk, making him the scapegoat. Maybe it did not matter. 

Hvitserk’s hands are still raised behind his head when you turn back to him, the muscles of his back tense. “It wasn’t safe for him. After far’s death and our little baby—“

He winces at the mention. 

“He wasn’t safe with you. Mor thought I should…”

He turns around, whirling to face you. He digs in his wallet, ripping out a film. When you look down to it, you realize what it is. 

A sonogram. Of the twins. 

“I want my paternity established.” Hvitserk says without another word, stepping around you. The door closes shut with a slam. You exhale a breath. It’s not of relief. In the other room, you had a grown son that was looking for answers. How long had he gone on thinking his father did not want him? Years too many. But… Hvitserk was here now. He wanted to be in his life. 

You owed him that at least. 

“Mads?” your knuckles clack against his hollow door. 

With no response, you push in. He’s sitting on his bed, his long hair over his shoulder out of the tight bun he usually kept it in. His shirt has been thrown off somewhere, the floor littered with his clothes. You pick up his clothes as you come in, gingerly setting them in his white laundry basket. Mads sits there with his basketball in his hands, flicking it around while his eyes stare off at his light grey walls. 

“Why didn’t you tell me the truth?” Mads asks, calm but with a sense of hopelessness to his voice. He heard his father leave. He wondered if he would come back. The bed creaks under your weight as you sit beside him. You study his face, tracing out just how enraged he was with you. Unlike his father, though. The heaving of his chest results in harsh shuddering breaths. He’s not mad, you acknowledge, he’s so impossibly hurt. 

That’s worse than being mad. You hand him the laminated sonogram that Hvitserk had shoved at you, leaning in against his shoulder. The basketball falls from his fingers with a dribble, rolling away toward his connecting bathroom and the walk-in closet to the right of it. 

“Two sacks?” he asks. 

“This is you… and your sister.” 

“I have a sister?” Mads asks, staring down at the young ultrasound. The last one before the accident. If you could dispense the memory of that event, you would. 

“She didn’t make it.” You say, running your tongue over your lips. Mads’s lips press together. 

“The accident?” 

“After it, Mormor thought it would be best if… we didn’t tell your father. He’s a Ragnarsson and-- his ex caused it. She thought you would be in danger and,” 

“But that doesn’t explain why you lied. You-- I could take it, you know Mor. Just… if you talked to me. You didn’t have to lie to me.” Mads sucks in his breath, garbled. Your boy with his calm demeanor, wide smiles, and limited interest in anger. He sets the sonogram aside, clenching his eyes together. His fist migrates to his mouth, biting his knuckle with force. “It would’ve been better than thinking my Far abandoned me.” 

“No, baby-- no.” You reach out, lowering his bitten knuckles from his face. “He loved you. More than anything.” 

“But he isn’t gonna come back.” 

You dip down to fall to your knees in front of your son. You pull him close, pressing your lips to his forehead. “He’ll come back,” you say. “For you. He wants you in his life. We’ll establish paternity and…” 

“I ruined it,” Mads whispers, the wetness of his tears falling over your skin. You reach up to clear his skin of the tears. You think you’ve covered it all but his knowing. He’s a witty, smart boy. He must have known why he was there. “Mikkel said-- he said he was coming back to be with his family, that he loved you, and he’d only be in the way and I thought that I could see him and thought-- thought--” 

“It’s okay,” you wrench him close, off the bed. His soft cheek presses against your chest through the tears. 

“It’s not your fault,” you kiss the top of his hair. Wet sobs wrack through his body, shaking from his hands to his fingertips. Through the tears, he cracks a laugh, one with no humor behind it. “I wanted a family.”

That, you fear, is now out of the question.

Me

Contact sent. 

Mads’s number, be gentle with him.

The message sent reads early evening. While you send it some time ago, you had been busy coaxing Mads out from his grief. You fell back onto your bed in little more than the silky white slips you always used to wear. The ones that Hvitserk would glide his hand under your ass, give you a mean squeeze and… or spank you. 

With Mads fed and doing school work before bed, you had nothing to do now that the sun was set over the horizon. The locks were locked twice over, the security system set. Everything was peaceful and should be perfect but… there’s no Mikkel, there’s no Hvitserk. These nights are the hardest. Your fingers ghost over your stomach, empty and barren. Mads was a good son. If you only had him, you would be fine. You doze off, descending into sleep. A buzzing on your nightstand doesn’t wake you.

Hvitserk 

Thanks.

@igetcarriedawaywithyou, @kylobien, @titty-teetee, @breathlessouls, @nejijjeoroo, @bcat1291, @readsalot73, @mslothbrok, @captstefanbrandt, @ailucascen, @michaeliskindahot, @cbouvier23, @naaladareia, @cbouvier23, @the-geeky-engineer, @lisinfleur,  @tephi101, @akamaiden, @ethereallysimple, @venusloviing, @happylittlepuppydog, @beyond-the-ashes, @slutforrpg, @sparklemichele, @alicedopey, @lif3snotouttogetyou, @noregretsandyeteveryregret, @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol, @deathbyarabbit, @unacceptabletatertots, @beyond-the-ashes(no sig), @babypink224221, @ivarandersen, @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla, @moose-squirrel-asstiel, @end-of-night, @gruffle1, @lol-haha-joke @arses21434,  @smileyparrots, @miss-artemis-wild, @two-unbeatable-beaters, @wonderwoman292, @wish-i-was-a-mermaid, @killerb00sdeath, @heartbeats-wildly, @boo20017, @acacheofstrange, @shaelyn102,  @smokealone, @shaelyn102@laketaj24, @peaceisadirtyword, @ly–canthrope @cris101071@daughterofthenight117 @unassumingviking @ladyofsoa, @inforapound @winchesterwife27 @feyrearcheron44 @allvikingsfanfic @readsalot73 @medievalfangirl @hanhanxx @multi-fandom-fanfiction @chinduda @funmadnessandbadassvikings @atlas-of-the-world @hanhanxx @medievalfangirl

@beyond-the-ashes @queenmissfit @x-valhalla @hissouthernprincess@tierneygonzalez @alicedopey @allvikingsfanfic @rekdreams-fandom@athroatfullofglass @supernaturalvikingwhore @laughinglikenialler@ilvebeenabad @mblaqgi @neeadinghugs @gruffle1 @p8tn0lish @lol-haha-joke @wish-i-was-a-mermaid @lif3snotouttogetyou @lovelynerdytraveler@winchesterwife27 @tephi101 @therealmrshale @vikingsmania@igetcarriedawaywithyou @the-geeky-engineer @whatamood13@strangunddurm @thethyri @peachesnpisces @ms-allenbrown @tempt-ress@isthat-tyra98 @unacceptabletatertots @deathbyarabbit

#Hvitserk x Reader #Vikings imagine #vikings/reader #vikings x reader #hvitserk imagines #hvitty imagines #hvitty/reader #hvitty x reader #hvitserk's heathen feast #vikings imagines

[i-blindside]

Nikolaj Coster-Waldau | Wet

#nikolaj coster-waldau #great dane #my edit #my danish pastry #game of thrones

[sambergscott]

you showed me something i can’t live without

entry for the b99 summer 2019 fic exchange for @b99fandomevents. written for @dailyb99 (tumblr)/valeriee (ao3) who requested jake x amy angst after amy’s start over comment during casecation

He can’t even look at her. Once the bomb has been diffused and Pam is in handcuffs and Bruno Rojas has an increased security detail, Jake and Amy are free to go home. The car ride is awkward AF, tension thick in the air like a pea soup has descended on the city. She doesn’t rest her hand on his thigh as he drives, they don’t sing to Taylor Swift, they don’t stop at their favourite Thai take-out as they drive past. They don’t say a word until they’re inside their apartment and even then Jake mutters that he’s getting a shower under his breath, leaving her to it.

He undresses slowly, numbly, and stands still beneath the shower, the hot water burning his skin. His face is wet with tears, his mind cruelly replaying Amy’s words. Start over. Start over start over start over. With someone else. Who is not him.

He stands in the shower until the water runs cold, wrapping the monogrammed ‘Mr’ towel (a gift from  Terry and Sharon from their wedding registry) around his waist. Everything is a horrible reminder of them, their soon-to-be-over marriage, as he returns to their bedroom, to the framed wedding pictures on his bedside table, the ‘Mr’ mug of coffee waiting for him.

She’s already in bed, sipping the herbal tea in her ‘Mrs’ mug, her face pale and drawn in, dark bags beneath her eyes. He immediately - guiltily - looks away, grabbing his t-shirt and sweatpants, mumbling something about changing in the other room.

He ends up on the couch re-watching Die Hard. If his marriage is over, at least he still has his favourite movie franchise. Correction: now his marriage is over.

It’s a sharp, painful reminder, a nightmare end to what was supposed to be a romantic anniversary celebration. How far they have deviated from his plan. They were supposed to be tearing each other’s clothes off by now and instead they can’t even bare to be in the same room.

His phone buzzes with a text from Rosa, informing him of how worried Amy had been when he was stuck inside with an explosive device, how much Amy loved him and that obviously she didn’t want to start over with anyone else. You two are soulmates, you dumb-dumb.

He closes his eyes and shoves his phone down the side of the cushion. It doesn’t matter what Rosa thinks. Amy said what she said. If he doesn’t want kids, she’ll divorce him.

The terrifying thing is, he doesn’t want kids. Or he didn’t. He doesn’t know how to feel anymore, his arguments against having a baby all pooh-poohed by the debate squad, his thoughts muddled by the need to do anything necessary to keep Amy. She is the best thing that’s ever happened to him. He can’t lose her.

He hears shuffling footsteps make their way into the living room, his wife, wrapped in their comforter, appearing in view a few moments later. He can tell she’s been crying too and hates himself for putting her through that. But also hates her a little. Because she’s the one who uttered the words start over. This whole thing is her fault. Or Pam’s. He doesn’t even remember how this whole thing started anymore.

“Hey. Can we talk?”

“I think we’ve done enough talking for today, don’t you think?” He snaps, hating the way she visibly recoils.

“We can’t leave things like this.” She gestures between them. Things haven’t been so awkward since Florida. “My parents always said never go to bed angry.”

“Well my parents solved all their marital problems with divorce. So.”

He did it. He said the ‘d’ word. It's out there. Can’t take it back now.

“You want a divorce?” She whispers, her face crumpling.

He shrugs noncommittally. “You’re the one who mentioned starting over.”

“I said I didn’t want to. I love you, Jake. I planned to spend the rest of my life with you. But I’ve always wanted kids... and if we can’t do that together...” She breaks off, pointlessly scrubbing away her tears with the back of her hand. New ones fall anyway. “This hurts me too, you know.”

“Does it?” He asks emptily. “If it was such a dealbreaker, you should’ve made that clear before we got married. Hell, you should’ve made it clear years ago before I got so invested.”

“I didn’t think I needed to. I thought you loved kids!”

“I do. But that doesn’t mean I want my own. I love Nikolaj and Ava and Iggy, but I also love giving them back to their parents at the end of the day and being able to get on with my life.”

“And that’s your opinion set for life, is it? You’re never changing your mind?”

“I don’t know,” he says honestly.

“You don’t know?” Amy repeats. “Our marriage is about to fall apart and you don’t know. Thanks, Jake. That’s great.” She shakes her head, walking away.

“I don’t know anymore because I don’t want to lose you,” he spits out. It comes out angrier than it’s supposed to, but it does the trick. She turns around. “I didn’t want kids because I was scared. I had a crappy childhood and we work a lot and I’m terrified of being a bad father.”

Her expression is unreadable.

“I love you so much,” he continues. “This life we have here... it’s better than anything I imagined. Like I said earlier, I was as sure about asking you to marry me as I was about becoming a cop. But I was still scared of marriage. Scared of ending up like my parents, alone for so many years. It wasn’t until you were walking down the shredded paper aisle that I wasn’t anymore.”

“What are you saying?” She murmurs.

“I’m always going to be scared of ending up like my dad. Just because things are scary, doesn’t mean I shouldn’t do them.”

“Can I sit down?”

He nods silently, shifting so there’s room for her. She grabs his hand, lightly rubbing the pad of his thumb over his wedding band. He swallows the lump in his throat.

“I don’t want you to say these things just because you think it will save our marriage,” she says seriously. “I want you to want kids. We’re only going to end up in the same place a few years down the line if you commit to having children you don’t want. And that’s not fair on me, or you, or them.”

He thinks about it - really thinks about it. He thinks about the way his heart flips whenever Nikolaj says he loves him or when one of Amy’s nieces climbs into his lap and asks him to read a book or when Cagney and Lacey bring him cookies into work. They’re always oddly shaped and contain more chocolate chips than any other ingredient, but their little smiles light up whenever he pops one in his mouth and tells them it’s delicious. And as scared as he is, he loves the image of a mini-Amy he conjures in his mind.

“I do want to have kids,” he promises. “With you.”

Her lips twitch. “You’re sure? You’re not scared anymore?”

“I am so scared. Maybe even more now so than before,” he confesses. “But I was scared in there with Pam and I handled that. And me and you make a pretty good team, don’t we?”

“The best team,” she agrees, smiling for the first time in hours.

It’s so beautiful - she’s so beautiful - that Jake can’t help but smile back. “We can do anything.”

“We can.”

“So,” he hesitates, looking nervous again, “are we good?”

“We’re good,” she says, leaning in for a kiss. It’s soft and tender yet equal parts desperate. She giggles when she pulls away. “It’s you and I, by the way.”

All the heart ache disappears with a whoosh.

“We’ve just decided to have kids together and you’re seriously correcting my grammar?” He narrows his eyes playfully.

“Of course! I won’t have you impose poor grammatical habits onto our unborn child.”

“I love you,” he responds.

“Love you too, babe.” She combs her fingers through his damp, messy curls, biting her lip. “Want to practise baby-making in the other room?”

Jake grins. “Race you there.”

#my writing #b99 fic #jake x amy #b99 summer 2019 fic exchange #b99fandomevents #i believe i am the first to post #writer's block is finally over baby!!!!

[queenofdenest]

Prompt: 5. "I might just kiss you."  Series: Unofficial Fic.tober 2k19 Fandom: Hetalia. Characters: aph den.mark. aph est.onia. minor bit of aph fin.land Pairings: denest. Warnings/Tags: None Summary:  Impromptu visits, Nikolaj knew weren't the best

A/N: cute fluffy denest because the next time you see this ship on this blog it’s just going to be angsty and angsty. anyway. this is just some fun that was cute to write. hope you guys enjoy. if you want to prompt me anything from the prompt list RIGHT HERE then please do!

                                                       __________

With the birds chirping and the lake a nice cool balm against the heat, Nikolaj swam from one end to the other, a smile on his face. "It's so nice!" He called to Eduard, who sat on the lakeside, his feet in the water and a phone to his ear. 

Impromptu visits, Nikolaj knew weren't the best, but with the weather climbing high this weekend, he figured that Eduard would've asked for time off. He hadn't, of course, which was the reason he was on the phone instead of swimming in the cool water. 

"Uh huh," Eduard was saying as Nikolaj swam towards him. Laying his head on Eduard's lap, skin wetting the other's pants, Nikolaj listened to the conversation. He had always liked Eduard's language; it was gentle and musical, and hearing it now as the world was near silent, he could remember the first time he met Eduard. 

Long before his people had won the battle that had given him Eduard’s nation with the strength they were given by God, Nikolaj could remember traveling with his people; going into battles, sailing the seas, the occasional heading into a port town to trade. It had been in one of the port towns in Finland's lands that he had met Eduard. 

The weather had been nice that day, the sun had been shining bringing rays of heat down. Nikolaj had been talking to the leader of the village, wondering where Tino was. He had been told that a foreigner from the south had come to town, taking Tino to the forests for a fortnight. 

Though Tino’s lands were not yet his at the time, Nikolaj still spent an inordinate amount of time bossing the other nation around and the idea that Tino had taken off for a fortnight without warning had caused a bit of anger to rise -- he could remember, with shame, the anger he had felt as a younger nation, that, thankfully as time had gone on, had calmed down. At the time though all he knew was that Tino, the one nation who listened as he bitched about Sweden, had disappeared. 

Of course, right as he was about to threaten the man, he could hear Tino’s laughter ringing throughout the air. 

(If Nikolaj was completely honest with himself, back when he was still a young nation and his people had yet to become the rulers of the North, he had a bit of a crush on Finland.)

He had left the man with nothing more than a glare and an unspoken threat and wandered around until he found Tino jumping into the water away from where the boats docked. In the water, he spotted another boy in the water and his eyes had widened. 

“Oled liiga väsinud,” The melodic words caught his attention and he had stopped in his footsteps, heart beating so loudly in his ears that he missed the last bit of what was being said before loud laughter filled the air. 

There were many myths that his people held that spoke of water creatures and for a moment Nikolaj could believe that the boy in the water was a nikke, coming to steal Tino from his people, but the more he stared, the more he felt like he was the one being lured into the ocean. 

“Tanska!” Tino waved from his spot in the water, drawing his attention away from the other blond boy in the water. Quick words of Tino’s own language - melodic as well, but not quite the same as the foreigners’ - and the most happy nation he had ever met was swimming towards him. “I wish you had written, me and Maa would’ve taken you with us to the forests!” 

Maa? Nikolaj lifted an eyebrow. That wasn’t particularly a name he had ever heard of. It showed on his face and the boy shook his head. 

“I’m not taking the name Johannes keeps trying to give me,” he explained, his voice just as melodic as the words he had been speaking earlier. “I refuse.” 

Tino shook his head, “You should be careful, he’s gaining more land and power, soon you might have to go to war with him.” 

Maa shrugged, the water rippling around him as he swam backwards slightly, “My people will win,” he said, his voice confident despite the look that Tino was giving him. “Is Tanska going to come in the water?” 

Tino frowned for a moment before nodding his head, “You should join us, the weather has been so good for swimming.” 

Now, so many years later, Nikolaj pulled himself from the past as he felt a hand brushing through his hair. Lifted his head, he looked up at the sea green eyes of his lover. “I just might kiss you,” he whispered and Eduard laughed lightly. 

“No, no, not you sir,” he said in the phone, shaking his head. “I’ll be sure to get some paperwork done while he’s here. Thank you. Yes, of course, thank you.” 

“No seriously,” Nikolaj said, wrapping his dripping arms around Eduard’s waist. “I really might, just keep speaking.” 

“Of course,” Eduard moved slightly, dropping his phone on the grass next to him. “My bosses are going to think something inappropriate is going on.” 

He laughed, moving back slightly, dragging a fully clothed Eduard with him. “Well let’s not disappoint them then,” he said as the other flailed in a desperate, but ultimately futile attempt to not fall in. 

“Taani!”

                                                      __________

Taani = Denmark in Estonian. Nikke = ancient Scandinavia/Danish water spirit. Is a shapeshift. Often male. Lures people to water. Tanska = Denmark in Finnish. Maa = estonian. Land/ground/earth. I feel like at the time he wouldn't take a human name, instead just go by Estonian words. Oled liiga väsinud = you are tired, or again, should, because google translate is as reliable as politicians.

Last bit last, nikolaj’s thing about tino’s language not being as melodic, just him thinking that because he’s gotten used to hearing it so often while not having heard estonian a lot. personally the same happened to me after a while with french. so pretty at first, now i don’t blink when i hear it. 

#aph denmark #aph estonia #hws denmark #hws estonia #hetalia fanfiction #denest #ii. character;; aph denmark #ii. character;; aph estonia #v. pairing;; denest #iii. story;; mine #iii. story;; complete #iii. story;; one shot #vi. ooc;; memento's fictober 2k19 #vii. story;; fictober 2k19

[savageandwise]

Hey :D about the questions, maybe 1, 3, and 14 please ?

Hey! Thank you this year wasn't a great writing year for me.

1 . My favourite fic I wrote this year is "They Put A Man On The Moon" https://archiveofourown.org/works/18076856

About John and Paul and the moon landing.

3. My favourite scene is the lost weekend flashback in "This Old Estranged Fiance Of Mine" https://archiveofourown.org/works/21637336 :

"Why do you have a great, bloody sack of limes anyway?" Paul asked, changing the subject awkwardly.

"Harry brought them, he's worried we'll come down with scurvy," John explained.

He juiced the oranges and limes dutifully, wincing as the acid attacked the ragged skin of his cuticles. At the sink he turned on the tap and rinsed his hands. Paul walked over and thrust his own hands under the stream. 

"I think scurvy is the least of your problems," Paul said, rolling his eyes. "Cuba Libre is your main source of vitamins, I take it?"

John's fingers slid between his and he felt the delicious lurch of danger deep in the pit of his stomach.

"Nonsense," he said, his voice a trifle hoarse. "I eat me greens. Just like Aunt Mimi taught me to."

John stood very close, the sharp angle of his hip pressing against Paul's. His hands were still wet, he slid them up and down the front of Paul's t-shirt, drying them deliberately, a possessive sort of smile on his face. Then he wrapped his hands around Paul's forearms, squeezed gently.

"And by greens you mean Mary Jane," he laughed.

Paul moved a fraction so his groin was flush against John's. He sucked in a gasp of breath when he felt Paul hard against him, his eyes going black with desire. 

"It's green, ain't it?" John asked, dropping his hands and rubbing his thumb against Paul's hip bone.

"Practically a vegetable," Paul agreed.

14. The fic i wasn't expecting to write was https://archiveofourown.org/works/20680559 "Walk The Walk" about Gwendolyn Christie and Nikolaj Coster-Waldau

[peraltasames]

home is just another word for you

Pairing: Jake Peralta/Amy Santiago

Desc: While moving into Amy's apartment, Jake stumbles upon the letter she wrote him while he was in Florida.

Notes: this is the first chapter of my new one-shot collection! title from ‘you’re my home’ by billy joel

Read on AO3

“Alright, this is the last box!” Jake shouts loud enough to be heard across the apartment, ripping the tape off the large cardboard box full of miscellaneous knick-knacks and items that he refused to part with. He’s positive Amy only let him keep them because she feels a little bit bad he had to give up his apartment (even though hers was the obvious choice) but the image of a Die Hard poster among her fancy china cabinets and antique furniture is just too good. Besides, they’re both excited to make it their apartment versus simply her apartment that he’s living in.

“Awesome, babe!” He hears Amy’s voice from the kitchen, where she’s unpacking his pretty limited supply of cutlery and appliances.

With the realization that he’s one box away from fully cohabiting with his favourite person in the world, Jake smiles to himself as he begins to pull random objects out of the box a little faster than he did the last few.

“Okay, magic eight ball, where should you go?” he mumbles to himself, glancing around the room at the nice, soft aesthetic Amy’s created with her choice of decor. “Yeah, maybe in a drawer for now.”

He strolls over to her desk, opening the drawer filled with documents and various writing utensils and stationery. He plops the ball in next to the stapler, his eyes barely glancing over some of the highly-organized papers and catching an envelope, mostly obscured by an insurance form, with the FBI seal in the corner.

His interest immediately piqued, he glances behind him to make sure Amy’s still in the other room and picks up the envelope, which isn’t sealed. Inside are two folded sheets of paper, the second falling to the desk as he reads the first one.

Detective Amy Santiago,

I would like to inform you that Detective Jacob Peralta is still in Witness Protection and will continue to be for an indefinite amount of time. I am unable to update you on the case, but I assure you the Bureau is doing everything we can to find Jimmy Figgis. Since it has been six months, I have decided to allow you to write a one-page letter to Jacob, which I will read to him and subsequently incinerate. Please enclose your letter in this same envelope and deliver it to the address you were given before Jacob’s departure, it will be passed on to me.

Marshal Haas

Taking in a sharp breath, he realizes what the other letter must be. Given the fact that the Nine-Nine came down to Florida to help catch Figgis only a few days after the six-month mark, she must’ve never had the chance to deliver it. His heart begins to beat faster as he reads the first line - his name, in her perfect, neat handwriting.

Dear Jake,

We both know brevity isn’t my strong suit, and since it’s impossible to fit six months into one page, I’m going to try to give you the highlights.

Charles and Genevieve adopted a four-year old, his name is Nikolaj and Charles never stops talking about him but he’s actually pretty cute. Rosa’s good, she says to tell you she nodded slightly (I assume you know what that means). Gina is...Gina. Terry and Sharon and the kids are doing well. We got a new captain today, he’s a complete idiot but at least it’s only until Holt comes back. Everyone misses you guys so much.

I’m doing okay. As okay as I can be without you, I guess. It’s really hard sometimes. It’s always hard, but some days are worse than others. I haven’t been doing much lately other than staring at the phone waiting for the call that you’re coming home. I know you’re safe there, but please don’t do anything reckless that could jeopardize that no matter how long you’re gone. I want you home so badly, but if he finds you I’m never gonna get that call. I need to get that call.

I love you so much. I love you more every single day. I worry about you constantly - please remember to drink water and eat vegetables and get some exercise. I know this must be so hard and scary for you, but hopefully it won’t be too much longer. I can’t wait for you to come back to me.

Love,

Amy

What breaks him, making him collapse into the chair beside him and sending tears down his cheeks, is not the heart-wrenching words she wrote for him months ago - it’s the faint stains on the page in the shape of teardrops.

While he was in Florida, slowly deteriorating and feeling his former self slip away along with his hope of returning home, she was sitting at this very desk crying over his absence. Missing him, worrying about him, loving him more every single day.

“You need some help finishing with the-“

He turns slightly to face the figure standing in the doorway. In pyjama shorts, a loose black tank top, and with her hair pulled back in a ponytail that’s now messy from hours of moving boxes, she’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

“Jake, what’s wrong?” She scurries over to him, frowning. “Why are you crying?”

He doesn’t realize his eyes are puffy and his cheeks are wet with tears until she’s standing right next to him, her hand cupping his face. He lifts the letter in his hand for her to see, her eyes widening as he finally looks up at her.

“Oh...”

“I never knew about this,” he chokes out, reaching out for her from where he still sits in the chair and resting his hand on her waist.

“I know,” she says, her hand moving from his face to rest on his shoulder. “We went to Florida the next day. I never delivered it.”

He nods, wiping his tears away with the sleeve of his hoodie. “Yeah, I just meant I- I didn’t know about this at all. About how hard it was for you.”

Her face, initially etched with concern, now flashes with a look of pain and loneliness at the memory of their separation. Even now, when they’re approaching the mark of him being back for as long as he was gone, he still sees this look sometimes when someone mentions Florida or WitSec in general.

“Of course it was, Jake,” she says quietly. “After I got used to being with you, not being with you wasn’t really an option anymore.”

He knows the feeling. There are too many memories clogging his brain that he wishes would fade of eating soggy burritos in the hot tub or staring at the photo of Amy in the storage unit because it was all he had.

“C’mere.”

Needing to be close to her, he tugs on her waist and turns her around so she gently falls into his lap. Her arms wind around his neck while her head finds his shoulder. He kisses her forehead for the version of himself known as Larry Sherbet, who wasn’t sure at times if he would ever be able to do that again. Larry would’ve given anything in the world to hold her like this during the hot, sleepless Florida nights.

“Thanks for coming home to me,” she murmurs, her lips pecking his collarbone.

“Thanks for waiting for me to come home,” he responds, his arms around her body clutching her a little tighter. “And thanks for being super cheesy in that letter, because I’m totally gonna bring it up all the time now.”

She slaps his arm half-heartedly, still relaxed against him. “Hey, you would’ve been cheesy too if you were allowed to write one.”

“Definitely, but we will never have proof of it,” he says, hand stroking her leg. “Unless you ask Captain Holt how many times I whined about missing you after I had downed a bottle of whiskey and he’d searched my living room for bugs and cameras again.”

He says it like a joke, but she only hugs him closer and buries her face in his neck. He supposes the thought of him drunkenly talking about how much he misses his girlfriend does seem pretty sad. It was pretty sad.

“I love you, roomie,” he murmurs.

“I love you too.” She pulls away to face him properly, leaning in for a quick kiss. “Although, we’re not officially living together until you finish unpacking that box.”

“Okay, okay, okay...or, hear me out, what if we unpack it later and have sex now?”

He looks up at her with big puppy dog eyes, employing his foolproof method of stroking her inner thigh gently with his thumb.

“Jake...I really want to get this done,” she says, but he can already hear the willpower fading in her voice.

“Does it really matter if we have sex with or without the Die Hard poster hung up?”

She bites her lip. “Well, I guess n-“

Taking that as all the approval he needs, he scoops her up and walks her over to the bed so conveniently close to them. The bed that is now their bed, in their room, in their home. He admitted to himself a long time ago, however, that home was wherever she was - specifically, in the moment that she kissed him in the back of an ambulance in Coral Palms and Brooklyn suddenly became just a place on a map.

#otp: you're not allowed to fall in love with me #b99 fic #b99 #peraltiago #peraltiago fanfiction #so my obsession w writing them has reached new heights clearly #this fic is probably gonna have like 50 chapters lmao #myfics