#it’s been a long day and i just lost the thread of the next sentence

[senzasord]

.

[perseruna]

Endiness made a beautiful long post with all his quotes on that topic that I think is very informative and worth looking at, so here’s a link to that. And with that already discussed, I thought I’d make a thread of all his changes that we are aware of, because when you look into them, you find that none of his “book accurate” changes are actually book accurate. 

His decision to make Geralt grunt and cut his lines.

HC: "All the grunts, I either added or I didn't say anything and just grunted instead. It was often up to the other actors to go, 'I think he's not gonna say anything now.'"

JB: "Henry likes to cut his lines, 'cause he's lazy. No, he literally just likes to cut them. He likes to do more up here [frames his face with his hands] and just with face and hmms and grunts. There's a lot of hmms, and so I often have to take a lot of his lines and turn it into a lot of my stuff so that the plot happens."

So, as everyone who has read the books knows that Geralt is and always has been a yapper. Gerakt often talks or thinks in monologues, and definitely not in short grunts.

Of course when the audience started making fun of Geralt for not being able to speak in full sentences Henry promptly went back on admitting the blame and instead said that the big bad writers were the ones who didn't give him lines, and now it was his life’s mission to fight for a book accurate Geralt who speaks. 

Roach’s death scene

After S2 came out, Lauren received a lot of backlash for Roach’s death scene, with multiple sources citing that she wanted the moment to be more “comedic” before the brave Henry Cavill stepped in and refused to participate in such horrible anti source material activities.

LH: "Henry was so unhappy with the line. Finally I said, 'You know what, you come up with something. I trust you, you know this material so well, you know the book so well, you don't even have to pitch it to me.' And he came back the next day with a beautiful speech that's at the end of 'Sword of Destiny' when Geralt is facing death.”

This is the line he ended up using:

“Enjoy your last walk across the meadow and through the mist. Be not afraid of her for she is your friend."

This was Lauren’s response AND the original line.

LH: “Here's what was scripted, in homage of the fact that a previous Roach had existed, and another one will exist soon. It's hardly a joke. Henry wanted a longer, more emotional moment, which I was more than happy to give him. Don't create drama where none exists.”

So in S2 Geralt ends up quoting a part of his monologue from ‘Sword of Destiny’ when he’s at his lowest after thinking that Yennefer had died at the battle of Sodden Hill, and he has nothing left to live for. Which to me doesn't work that well with Roach at all. That line was a response to Geralt thinking he's lost the love of his life, not his horse. In my opinion, the original line Lauren penned out is more heartfelt and actually more emotional and more book accurate as well.

The absolute removal of any Triss and Geralt “romance”

This one we don’t have that much information on in comparison to others. But there were multiple reports that at the beginning of S2 Triss and Geralt were supposed to have some kind of a romantic scene with each other which then was cut during production, and it was largely speculated that it was due to Henry Cavill. 

“Several months ago we reported on a sex scene happening between Geralt and Triss, sometime in the first half of Season 2. That didn’t happen, as we all saw, but here’s what we know about the original plan for that: Geralt and Triss are in a room together, they seem friendly at first. They are playing some kind of weird game. Whoever wins a round, gets to ask a question. We’re not privy to the exact flow of the conversation, but it eventually leads to both of them ending up in bed. We can only guess why this was cut, but perhaps it was thanks to Henry Cavill.”

Now, irrelevantly on your feelings on book Triss and Geralt you have to admit that that short-lived “romance” is indeed a part of the books and therefor book accurate. So the removal of it would go against Mr I’m fighting to make this show as much book accurate as possible. 

The removal of the Yen and Geralt sex scene in S2

"We just wanted to be very careful that it was true and real, and it didn't turn into something that we, as actors, didn't believe it should be," Cavill stated. When Yennefer and Geralt unite, they embrace, but it doesn't go further than that. He continued: "We wanted it to be emotional rather than sexual. It was really, really important, and we had to lean away from what was originally on the page." Initially, Geralt and Yennefer were written to have a more passionate night. Henry Cavill and Anya Chalotra went to "The Witcher" producers and explained why they thought a steamy evening was not the way to go. "These are people who believe one thing about the fate of another and then find out something else is true," Cavill said about Geralt believing Yennefer was dead. "That's not how they behave," the actor added. "How they behave is they just want to be with the person and emotionally recognize their existence again in that shared space.”

This one is a bit tricky because I am willing to get behind an actor who doesn't want to do a sex scene out of comfort reasons or whatnot, but Henry saying that "That's not how [Yennefer and Geralt] behave”, is quite absurd in my opinion. Because that is very much how Geralt and Yennefer behave, especially in the short stories and ToC. They are inherently a very sexual couple who come crashing in and out of each other’s lives while having very passionate sex. But I can understand wanting this scene to be more “emotional” (as if sex isn't emotional), so this one I am willing to give him a bit more leeway on. (But then again looking at the blinds saying that he refused any sex scenes because oh his “ideals” and was allegedly really nasty to Anya about it, well..)

Geralt being the perfect father figure to Ciri with no flaws and no struggles (which inevitably snowballed into the Yen Betrayal Arc)

This one I don’t see talked that much at all, and to me this one is his most detrimental one. 

@LHissrich: “In interviews, Henry explains how he felt strongly that Geralt NOT be bumbling, nor a struggling father figure. In fact, a lot of S2 is about how Geralt does come from a loving (albeit unconventional) family. Henry was passionate about this shift, and we discussed it a lot, and ultimately thought it was wonderful for his character development. But it also had the domino effect of changing what Ciri needed from Yen when she entered the picture. Thus, introducing the idea of balance.”

So I don’t know about you, but I love when characters have flaws and naturally progress be it for good or bad, some would say that that's what story telling is about, well that someone wouldn't be Henry Cavil. Geralt being a struggling father figure at first, someone who makes mistakes and learns from them and tries is very much a prominent theme in Blood of Elves and is actually very real, people make mistakes! Especially in huge shifts such as “becoming a father overnight’ but we didn't get that because Henry refused to play it that way. What we got is Geralt who already basically knows exactly how to parent, he always knows what to say, what pep talk to give and also doesn't hold any resentment and any negative feelings towards Vesemir at all. It's all one dimensional happy family here! Which goes against not only the books but what he preached about fighting tooth and nail to make the “forgotten” male characters three-dimensional as well because the horrible feminist Lauren only thinks about female characters. 

Lauren then goes on saying that “it also had the domino effect of changing what Ciri needed from Yen when she entered the picture. Thus, introducing the idea of balance” So, it is fair to speculate that Henry’s refusal to showcase Geralt having any flaws at all and act book accurate snowballed into The Controversial Yennefer Betrayal Arc. 

These are the ones that I can remember off the top off my head, so there might be more, there’s probably more that we aren’t even aware of. I think putting them all together showcase a very interesting picture. One of Henry Cavill never actually understanding who Geralt fundamentally is as a character, and of him not being a team player at all. I just hope that more and more people are aware of the insane PR his team did for him when it came to this show, and that more people are able to see through it. 

[velvetcloxds]

Sitting on charlie swan's lap trying to get his attention/distracting him or just talking about yor day.

PATIENCE | C.S.

word count: 0.6k

warnings: age gap, talk about getting married, quickly proofread, hoping tumblr doesn't screw up my ending again

"I want to marry you," you hummed from Charlie's lap, fingers digging through his beard as you cupped his face lightly in your hands. If the man hadn't been caught by surprise by you settling right on his lap without a single word, that little statement certainly did it. He lost all interest in the game he'd been watching, abandoning his beer on the table next to him, hand instead moving to your back to support you.

"You do now?" his tone was curious giving away just how intrigued you had him with such a simple sentence, bringing it up just as easily as you'd remind him to stop for milk before coming home from the station.

"I do," you nodded and sighed, in thought as if you were picturing it, tuning out the details, and then you smiled, holding onto him a little tighter and he didn't mind, simply adoring the sight of you dreaming wide awake. "Nothing fancy, just us two and Bella, maybe Edward, definitely Billy and Jacob," you were moving, shifting so you were almost straddling him, truly the only comfortable one but he was willing to wait it out. "We can go down to city hall and I can wear a pretty white dress with big poofy sleeves and we can go to the diner afterward to have pie instead of cake, we could have our first dance as husband and wife right in this living room."

"You don't think you deserve more than that?" his hand was brushing up and down your back, soothing you, telling you that you had all of his attention, telling you to keep going.

"More than you?" you shook your head, unimpressed by the foolishness of the question, how could he think a future with him wasn't more than you'd ever deserved to begin with, let alone that you'd need more. "Got any ideas for our song?" you quipped and he shrugged, fighting a smile when you moved your hands to his head, threading through his hair as you gave your own question some thought.

"Something from the sixties," he beat you to it and the smile that dipped into your lips proved that he was on the right track. "Though I don't think it matters, I'll step on your toes no matter what," you giggled, he was very right but you didn't think you'd mind if he did.

"We'd be barefoot," you informed him, happy to edit your little dream to make it perfect. "So it wouldn't hurt as much," you added and he smiled, he didn't dare hide it, happy to see you happy, knowing that after the week you'd had, seeing you like this meant the stress was fading.

"Sweetheart," he almost purred and the softness of his voice made you shiver, leaning into him, elbows on his shoulders as you nodded to make him continue. "Is this a proposal?" he pressed and you bit your lip, considering it, and that was where your perfect plan reached a plot hole, you never decided on that part.

"Maybe," you shrugged and then shook your head. "No, it's not," you decided and you weren't all that happy to hear a car pull up in the driveway, Bella coming home from a night out with Edward. "Don't think we're ready yet, but I know we'll be ready one day," you explained and it was ridiculous, the way you wanted to melt into his arms even more, feeling silly for how sure you sounded of yourself but it made him fall in love with you even more, as simple as it was, as silly as it was, as clear as you could see your little wedding day, the future he saw with you was just as clear, now more than ever.

"And what if I'm ready now?" you bit your lip, wishing there was a way to make time stop for just a few more minutes so you could appreciate this moment with him as you tried to figure out what exactly you'd done to get so very lucky.

"Then you'll just have to be patient, Chief Swan," the kiss you gave him wasn't at all long enough for his liking and he wasn't at all impressed when the front door swung open and robbed him of you, your hand lingering in his hair for barely a second before you were skipping to the kitchen. "Hi, Bells," you sang as the teenager came into the house, met by the sight of you holding a plate full of brownies you'd baked earlier, something sweet that you needed after a long week and you were sure she needed them too. "You hungry?" you were already pulling out a little plate from the cupboard so there wasn't really a choice in the matter as she nodded.

Bella squeezed her father's shoulder as she passed him on her way to you, earning a mumbled greeting as he tried to focus on the game he was so entirely captivated by just a few minutes before but it was harder than he thought it would be. You jumped onto the counter listening to every word of Bella explaining her date in a whisper while nibbling at the chocolate treat but you were more than ready to lock eyes with Charlie as he turned around to meet your gaze.

"Marry me," he mouthed with a lovesick look, one you'd only gotten the chance to see on very rare occasions and you had to bite back a giggle as you shook your head with a slight shrug and a daring smile.

"Soon," you mouthed in reply and when he turned back to the television with a soft sigh his attention was further from football than ever before because if this was what his future would look like then he wasn't sure just how patient he could be.

[my-rose-tinted-glasses]

My memory is terrible so I wanted to do a breakdown of my stuff every once in a while. Might be monthly, might be whenever I feel like it.

QL - Currently Watching

🇯🇵25 Ji, Akasaka de [7/10] - I do love when Japan does a pov change and this was no exception. Hayama is so far gone. Like we already knew what, but he's been a goner ever since he read his name. He's being worshipped by all these people around him because apparently he's too good looking for anyone to be normal around him, and all he sees is Shirasaki. He said one sentence to him in school that he kept as a reminder. Man is obsessed. I'm so curious about next week. The lines are getting more and more blurred and eventually someone's gotta give. Also Hayama should give lessons on self-control. I have never seen anyone so completely out of his mind in love and jealous and at the same time, so put together. I'm in awe.

🇹🇭 Knock Knock, Boys! [2/12] - Strong start. It's fun, I really liked the flat sharing concept, it reminds me of my London days and kinda like Thanwa, being the mom of the house. I'm wondering if they will settle into their own in-house pairs soon or if there will be cross over, cause that would be fun. Give me mess.

🇹🇭 My Stand-In [1/12] - For a number of reasons I'm waiting to binge this one. I do love watching the gifs on my dash though, pretty is pretty.

🇹🇭 Only Boo! [8/12] - So we're done with highschool and that last episode felt a bit rushed trying to finish all those loose threads but I like that we're getting to a new chapter of their relationship. They continue to be too adorable for words. Side couple - dream kisses my beloathed. From the preview and also the number of thai bl's I've watched I'm thinking this will be a pretty straightforward 'it turns out you like him but now he moved on (not really) and you have to grovel'. I'd love to be surprised though.

🇹🇭 Wandee Goodday [4/12] - I am loving it. Pretty much everything about it. Before I say anything else. Thor is gorgeous and he should do all the shows. Forever. He and Cher are delightful and I love that they are an established couple that seem to have their own roles in the gym and their own relationship with Yak. I said this in tags before I think, but I'm finding it interesting how we collectively talk about this show ending, more often than not, with the caveat 'let's see if it holds up'. We have been burned before and not that long ago so we are all holding our breaths. Contrary to my usual state, I'm feeling cautiously optimistic about this. I think the bones are there for a good show all the way to the end. No one is perfect - except Kao, he is perfection and the ace rep I only dreamed of - and that's great. They are both smitten and complete idiots. I'm looking forward to seeing more of the backstory, and in Yak's case how much of what drives him is a consequence of loss.

🇹🇭 We Are [9/16] - Still enjoying the friendships and still bummed we have no development with Chain/Pun. We had one second of development and it was a look. So much in that look. Not really but at least it seems that Pun is aware of his feelings, so that's something. The last episode kept reminding me of Love Sick because of all the camp stuff. It's an entertaining show but the Q/Toey plot is annoying me a bit now.

QL - Finished

🇹🇭 23.5 - This show lost me about halfway through and I never really connected after that. Even if it really wasn't for me, I'm happy it exists and I hope gmmtv invests in more gl's in the future. I wanted more of the teachers but I'm not greedy and was happy to see that they are together by the end.

🇰🇷Blossom Campus - What a mess. I still cannot believe this came out of Strongberry. I posted my reactions while watching. Final thoughts here.

🇰🇷Boys Be Brave - I really liked this one. Just to get it out of the way, the side couple felt a bit unfinished and could've had a bit more screen time. All the characters had their own stuff going on and 8 episodes just isn't enough to explore that depth in a satisfactory way. With that said. I adore the mains. JinWoo built a wall, put a list on it and we got to see Kiseob slowly tearing it down in its own unhinged unique way. I did a rewatch and something I didn't notice the first time is that when Kiseob is 'caught' with Inho and is explaining what happened while JinWoo hides under the bed, he enumerates what happened just like JinWoo always does. I thought it was so endearing. I found Kiseob's presence on screen always so bright and JinWoo's actor was really compelling to watch. Overall this was a really nice surprise.

🇯🇵 Living with him - Writing this when I literally finished and it's strange. Cause they are so cute by the end. That whole festival date was so adorable, and I think they played the awkwardness of the dynamic change really well. I do think the show dragged in parts and Natsukawa became a tiny bit annoying to me at a certain point. Because he found out so early that Kazuhito liked him that I thought the indecision was too much at times. I kept comparing it in my head to I Cannot Reach You, and the way both Kakeru and Natsukawa's lack of confidence plays a part in how they deal with the friend liking them, but I think in this case the back and forth in his head was irritating to me. It was always one step forward, two steps back. When he found the magazine in that last episode I wanted to punch a wall. Like, oh crap here he goes again. It's great that the friend was passing by so he could do all the work and get these two finally together. For the most part I really enjoyed it.

🇰🇷Love Is Like a Cat - That was a show that I watched. Final thoughts

Rose Watches OJBL

The Novelist (2018) - I put off this one for so long because of reasons and I was so wrong. It's not necessarily an easy watch but it's so good. It's beautifully shot and acted. I went through a whole journey with Kijima, from 'who is this guy?' to 'I fucking hate this guy' to ''I need him to be happy, please'. I will have to rewatch it after I watch all of them because the series is full of details and I'm sure I missed a bunch. Definitely happy I started this journey if for no other reason cause I finally managed to watch this.

Takumi-kun Series 2: Rainbow Colored Glass (2009) - The sad just came out of nowhere. It's got some of the same problems as the first one, choppy editing and even though the cast is new the acting is still not that good. I was less confused throughout which is good, Takumi annoyed me a lot though and the tragic plot was messy and rushed. I'm not sure if I'll watch all of these but probably at least one more and then decide.

Other - Watched

🇨🇳Running Like a Shooting Star (2024)🇯🇵Barakamon (2023)🇯🇵Ghost Yankee (2024) 🇰🇷Wonderful World (2024)

4 Thai BL's coming in June June 7 | My Love Mix-Up (so many mixed feelings) June 9 | Love Sea June 15 | Sunset x Vibes June 26 | The Rebound

As usual my ask box is open for questions or requests. Have a wonderful day/night💜

[linkemon]

Mayhem (Noctis Lucis Caelum x Reader) [Soulmate AU]

Friendly reminder that English is not my first language. You can check my Masterlists both in English and Polish here. Consider supporting me on Ko-fi. You can also check out my commissions if you’re interested.

Other oneshots can be found here.

"ꜱʜᴇ ᴡᴀꜱɴ'ᴛ ʜᴀᴘᴘʏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴘᴀʀʀɪɴɢ ʀᴇꜱᴜʟᴛ ʙᴜᴛ ꜱʜᴇ ᴋᴇᴘᴛ ʜᴇʀ ᴘʀᴏᴍɪꜱᴇ. ꜱʜᴇ ʀᴏʟʟᴇᴅ ᴜᴘ ʜᴇʀ ꜱʟᴇᴇᴠᴇ, ʀᴇᴠᴇᴀʟɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴀᴛᴛᴏᴏ ᴏɴ ʜᴇʀ ꜰᴏʀᴇᴀʀᴍ. ᴛʜᴇ ʙʟᴀᴄᴋ ʟɪɴᴇ ꜰᴏʀᴍᴇᴅ ᴀɴ ᴏʀɴᴀᴛᴇʟʏ ᴡʀɪᴛᴛᴇɴ 'ꜰᴀʀᴇᴡᴇʟʟ'."

ᴀᴅᴅɪᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ ɪɴꜰᴏʀᴍᴀᴛɪᴏɴ: 1. ᴍᴀᴊᴏʀ ꜱᴘᴏɪʟᴇʀꜱ ʀᴇɢᴀʀᴅɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇᴠᴇɴᴛꜱ ᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇɢɪɴɴɪɴɢ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ɢᴀᴍᴇ. 2. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ꜱᴏᴜʟᴍᴀᴛᴇ ᴀᴜ, ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ᴍᴏꜱᴛ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ (ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜ ɴᴏᴛ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴏɴᴇ) ᴀʀᴇ ɢɪꜰᴛᴇᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀʙɪʟɪᴛʏ ᴛᴏ ꜰɪɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ꜱᴏᴜʟᴍᴀᴛᴇ.

— You lost! Show it! — Gladio shouted right next to [Reader's] ear.

— You cheated — she gasped, clutching the wooden sword.

— All's fair in love and war!

— We're not at war, we're just doing training exercises — the little girl replied.

She wasn't happy with the sparring result but she kept her promise. She rolled up her sleeve, revealing the tattoo on her forearm. The black line formed an ornately written "Farewell"

— I was hoping for something better.

— Do not get smart up. You don't have the skill yourself yet.

— It won't be easy to find a soulmate with something like that. I hope my skill will be better.

The girl didn't want to admit it but she was thinking exactly the same thing. Many people were given simpler instructions. She has always dreamed of a timer or a red thread. They didn't require much attention. Meanwhile, she was given a word that anyone could have said to her.

— Maybe I'll hear my soulmate say goodbye to someone? Or will this be a slogan describing our entire relationship? You know... we'll be such a nice couple that we won't want to be apart?

***

[Reader] stared at the three friends who had come to the training ground. She was glad Noctis wasn't with them.

She thought no one would come here in the middle of the night. She had been able to avoid meetings over the past few days but it seemed like that wasn't the case this time.

— I don't want to talk to you.

She swung her sword, practicing the sequence.

— Listen, you can just sit here for me but he doesn't want to go anywhere without you...

Gladiolus didn't finish his sentence because Prompto kicked him in the ankle with all his might.

— How can you say such things to a girl? — Prompto was outraged. — Sorry, I have to send a text message quickly. — He took out his phone.

Ignis looked at the other two and sighed. He adjusted his glasses. He felt the need to do this whenever he got irritated.

— Why are you avoiding the prince?

— Damn it! We all know why. We are not making idiots of ourselves.

King's Shield was tired. He wanted to put the whole trip behind him. Altissia was far from Insomnia. They had a long journey ahead of them and he felt like he was babysitting Noctis instead of preparing for it.

The prince insisted that he wanted to see [Reader] at his wedding to Lunafreya. He proposed it to her and she awkwardly excused herself and they haven't seen each other since.

— Wait... so we know why she's avoiding him? — Prompto frowned in concentration.

It took him a few seconds to understand what Gladiolus was talking about.

— Aaah... That's what you mean... — He tapped his forehead lightly.

— Let's end this circus. You're coming with us. Even the king said it was a great idea.

— He didn't give me an order.

[Reader] knew she was arguing like a little child but she had a hard time hiding her reluctance.

— Stop being so selfish! — Gladio knocked the training sword out of her hand.

He did it easily. He surpassed her in terms of physical strength. Not to mention his skills were next level.

He froze the moment he saw her face. The moonlight helped him see tears in the corners of his eyes. She turned her head to wipe them gently.

He felt guilty.

They had been friends since childhood.

— Damn it! — He pinched the bridge of his nose. — I'm sorry, okay? I'm just... fed up with it.

Ignis didn't say anything. He looked at him reprimandingly and Gladio realized that he was in for a good sermon. Ignis took an embroidered handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to the girl. She accepted it gratefully.

— It's not your fault... none of you... Let's be honest, neither is it Noctis's fault. But so what? Should I be a bridesmaid at a wedding I don't want to see? Watch someone I've been in love with for so many years get married? Congratulate my rival with whom I never stood a chance? I want Noctis to be happy but... that doesn't mean I have to watch it all.

The girl felt all the emotions she had been carrying since the announcement of the engagement slipping away. Grief gripped her heart and the words stuck in her throat. Her fingers tightened around Ignis's handkerchief. There was a deafening silence, broken only by the night chirping of crickets.

The friends looked towards the entrance. She followed their gaze.

He stood there.

— We'll leave you two alone — Prompto suggested.

He hoped [Reader] wouldn't find out that he was the one who notified Noctis via text message. Otherwise he would be in big trouble.

— I think we need to talk — said the prince.

— You didn't overhear everything? — she asked bitterly.

Blue eyes stared at her intensely.

— I want you to tell me about it properly now.

— NO. — She sat down on the stone wall. — Do you know why? Because it doesn't make sense. I won't change anything.

— You know...

— I know! You are responsible for Lucis... And you will be king one day... And you love Lunafreya... And we need this marriage...

Noctis looked at the brightly shining moon above his head.

It was as if in its light he could no longer hide anything.

He felt he had failed as a friend.

He knew for a long time. He just never wanted to let that thought come to the fore. It was easier to push it to the bottom of his mind and tell himself it was just a delusion. He was afraid to face a feeling he didn't reciprocate.

— [Reader], if you had told me earlier...

She felt a pang in her chest. He had no soulmate skill. Fate didn't decide for him. He chose Luna of his own free will.

— I wouldn't change anything. You love each other and I want you to be happy but please — she took a deep breath — don't make me go there. My heart can't bear it.

In her imagination she saw a beautiful bride. Blond curls were tied up in a high bun and the white dress rustled with every step. The Oracle held a bouquet of her favorite blue flowers as she looked for her fiancé.

Her fingers gripped the stone tightly.

He could give an order if he wanted.

— Then stay... but promise me our friendship won't end like this.

The prince felt that the thread that had connected them for a long time was breaking. He wanted desperately to save it, even though he felt it was over. All the years they spent together were gone.

— I promise that I will come after the wedding, together with your father, when I get myself together a bit. — She headed towards the exit.

— Farewell — he said with a slight smile.

She glanced briefly at the tattoo that had been with her for many years.

She didn't answer him.

***

— What is it about? — Noctis asked.

Ignis entered the room with a newspaper in his hand.

— Read it.

The Fall of Insomnia , said the headline. Gladiolus read it aloud, feeling growing anxiety.

— Is this some joke?

The prince wanted to tear out the newspaper and make sure he had heard correctly.

— There was an attack. The Imperial army has occupied the capital — Gladio continued. — The Treaty Room flashed brightly. Explosions were also heard. When the smoke cleared, the king was found... dead. — Gladio looked up.

— No... But... Wedding... Altissia...

— I know. That was the plan but... all the headlines in town can't be wrong.

Ignis looked at Noctis with regret. There was no way there could be a mistake.

The boy felt his heart beating fast and a cold sweat break out on him.

— Liars! — he shouted. — We have to check that.

— Shall we turn back? — Prompto assured.

— Yes.

***

— Betrayal! Protect His Majesty!

[Reader] managed to kill three opponents before she fell to the ground. Lights flashed all around and a loud explosion deprived her of hearing.

She put her fingers to her chest in surprise. A red, sticky liquid flowed from the deep wound. She tried to make a sound but was interrupted by darkness.

***

— Maybe these will be the last words you hear from him? He'll see you and decide it's time to say goodbye or something — he laughed.

— Gladio, I'm going to kill you!

— I'd like to see you try — said the new, short, dark-haired boy.

He poked his head out from behind one of the pillars and curiously walked to the middle of the training ground.

— I think it's time for me to introduce you to the spoiled prince. Noctis Lucis Caelum and his titles that I don't feel like listing...

[cigarcloud]

The Sun Hardly Touches Me - Ch. 2

Chapter 1 Word Count: 2000 Ao3 Link Summary: Jinbe knows Crocodile is Luffy's father, now he has to grapple with it as Luffy recovers. Author's Note: This should be the last chapter that deals so heavily with canon events. Thanks for reading!

Jinbe was sitting next to a corpse.

“If I die, can you please look after my little brother?”

The room had been quiet for the past two weeks. It had been a screeching symphony as emergency surgery took place. Now, the room was left with nothing but the soft ticking and murmuring of machines, mechanical ingenuity doing what the body would not. Occasionally, the surgeon would come. He would rake his eyes over the body, the machines. His pen would scratch notes on paper. Sometimes he would adjust something, others he wouldn’t. He never said a word to Jinbe. It was unnerving. Trafalgar had risked much saving the boy, and now he looked at his body with cold disinterest.

A body that shouldn’t even be there, if the boy’s will would just bend to reality. Jinbe was beginning to understand that was not Monkey D. Luffy’s style. He had become intrigued, during Marineford. He hadn’t thought he would fulfill Ace’s request, his last as it had turned out. If he would stand with Luffy, it would be on the pirate’s own merits. Luffy would have to earn Jinbe’s respect, he couldn't simply absorb Ace's. In the end, he did earn it.

Ace might have been the Fire Fist, but no one could deny the fire inside his little brother. There was something in his eyes, something determined and manic and terrifying. The kid tore through marines without thought, without mercy. That was common, in the pirating business. What wasn’t was the lack of cruelty, the idealism present. He would do what he had to, to save his brother. He wouldn’t do more.

That was two weeks ago, that was when the kid still had his brother to fight for. At Marineford had looked like a demon. Now, he looked like a kid.

Two weeks had given Jinbe too much time to linger on the events of Marineford. Mostly of Whitebeard, and of Ace. What he could have done, how he could have spared the two friends he lost, the father and son. Eventually, with all the time and silence Jinbe had, that thread would find space to spool elsewhere.

Father and son.

“As for his bloodline, he’s the son of Dragon the Revolutionary!”

That had interested Jinbe a bit, but ultimately it was of no consequence. The boy was here to fight for Ace, the same as Jinbe. Who cared who’s spawn he was? That was easier to maintain for that brief time when he only knew one of the boy’s parents.

“Don’t let them have my son!”

That was… more interesting. It had faded to the back of his mind, for the frantic moments immediately after the war. It had even stayed hidden for the days after, as Jinbe moved through grief. He was better practiced at it than he wished he was. Luffy was taking too long, and now Jinbe’s mind had latched onto that one sentence, and the widening of Crocodile’s eyes as he said it. It certainly hadn’t been the man’s intentions to say it, that much was clear.

It couldn’t be true, unless it could. Jinbe’s time with Emporio Ivankov was brief, but it was enough to get the gist of his powers. Something about a secret the monarch held, something that Sir Crocodile would behave for. There wasn’t much Crocodile would set his pride aside for. If the cost of his pride would hurt it even more, then Jinbe supposed it made sense.

So, a biological possibility. What was more convincing however, was Crocodile himself. Jinbe had been as shocked as everyone else when the former Warlord had spurred into action. He had been wholly uninterested in helping Ace. He had made it quite clear he was there for his own grudge against Whitebeard. So why spare Ace? Why defend Luffy against Mihawk? Why throw himself with reckless abandon in front of Akainu?

It was completely out of character. Jinbe and Crocodile certainly weren’t close. In their time shared as Warlords Jinbe had learned Crocodile didn’t do close. He didn’t risk himself for anyone, he didn’t take risks. His fight with Whitebeard had been his one and only, as far as Jinbe could ever glean. That lesson seemed to embed itself deep into Crocodile.

So, why now?

Luffy was an anomaly, that much Jinbe had seen. He pulled in people, he had a way of capturing attention, for good and for ill. That wasn’t enough to explain Crocodile. He had his own goal when he went to Marineford, one that had Jinbe watching him like a hawk. Then, he had made one halfhearted dive at Whitebeard, before throwing everything into saving Luffy and Ace. As Jinbe mulled it over in his mind, the conclusion seemed inevitable. Crocodile had changed after it was announced Luffy was the son of the Revolutionary. That, above all else, told Jinbe the truth.

Crocodile was Luffy’s other parent, and he hadn’t seemed to know that until Sengoku’s announcement. That was… Jinbe wasn’t sure what that was. He wasn’t sure what to do with the information at all, now that he had it. Perhaps he should tell Luffy, although maybe not as soon as he woke.

Definitely not as soon as he woke.

The quite hum of the small room was pierced by a scream.

“ACE!” Luffy shot up, faster than he had any right to. The surgeon came rushing in as Luffy pulled all his supports off, screaming and wailing the entire time. He tried to hold Luffy down, but even with Jinbe’s assistance, it was no use. They were both being far too delicate.

Luffy’s face was as blank as it was the moment Fire Fist died. His body was moving, but his mind was statue still, stuck at the moment Akainu struck his brother. The screams devolved into formless sounds, no more calls for his brother could be made out.

Luffy tore out of the submarine, racing into the wilderness of Amazon Lily.

“What will happen if we leave him alone?” Jinbe asked the surgeon in the ringing silence that followed Luffy’s departure.

“If his wounds reopen, he could die.” His voice was flat.

Unnerving.

Jinbe turned away from the man, and followed the destruction left in Luffy’s wake.

He watched Luffy for a time. He knew he would have to intervene, but that if it happened too soon, he would achieve nothing. Luffy was once again made demon. He threw himself around, punching and screaming and clawing at an invisible enemy. His movements grew sporadic, reaching for anything to shield him from the truth. When his tangle of limbs brought him on his hands and knees to Jinbe’s feet, he took the opportunity to speak.

“The war is over. Ace is-”

“DON’T SAY IT! DON’T SAY ANYTHING!” Luffy screamed, his breath harsh. “I twisted my cheek until it almost tore off.” The tears were falling, and Luffy looked like a kid again, just as he had on that table. “If it was a bad dream, I’d be awake by now.” He looked up at Jinbe. “It’s not a bad dream, is it?” His voice broke apart on the question, before it renewed, building up to a roar. “ACE IS DEAD, ISN’T HE?”

“Yes. He’s dead.” Another scream ripped out of Luffy’s throat, and Jinbe could see a trickle of blood flowing out of it from the abuse. Luffy stayed on his hands and knees, slamming his head into the ground. Screaming about how he couldn’t protect anyone, and Jinbe had had enough.

“Luffy-”

“Go away!” The child screeched.

“I can’t do that, I won’t allow you to go on hurting yourself.” Jinbe advanced, but Luffy remained oblivious.

“It’s my body, I can do what I want!”

“That’s how Ace thought, he died because he did what he wanted with his body.” Jinbe’s voice was growing louder, his anger and fear of what Luffy might do if left to continue was catching up to his compassion, quickly.

“SHUT UP!” Luffy screamed. “One more word out of you and I’ll clobber you.”

It was a pitiful attempt, and the bite that followed did little to cool Jinbe’s rising frustrations. He soon had Luffy pressed against a tree, his words rushing from his mouth as the dam broke. He was desperate to get through to the boy, and every word seemed to pick at the sheet of ice that rested over Luffy’s eyes.

“Don’t dwell on what you lost, what’s gone is gone forever! Try to remember what you still have!” Jinbe’s grip finally loosed, letting the boy slide to the ground as tears welled in his eyes once more. It was different, this time.

“I have my crew!”

Jinbe watched as Luffy pulled himself together, and let him cling to his back as they walked towards the bay. He was startled to find the submarine was gone, and the Dark King Rayleigh had come to aid Luffy.

Everything moved quickly then, as they prepared to enact Luffy and Rayleigh’s plan. To return to Marineford so soon was so idiotic that no one was prepared for it. It gave them exactly the opportunity they needed to get Luffy’s message out. In all the chaos, the truth of Luffy’s full parentage almost entirely slipped Jinbe’s mind.

It was only as the time approached that Jinbe was to depart that he remembered. He still grappled with himself, it it was something his friend needed to deal with on top of everything else. The journey to send out his message had truly lightened him however, and Jinbe didn’t feel it was his right to withhold it from Luffy any longer.

“Luffy.” He gestured Luffy to join him on the whale shark he stood upon. The rubber boy vaulted over the ledge and landed neatly next to Jinbe with a laugh.

“What’s up?” Jinbe looked at him with consideration.

“It’s about something I discovered at Marineford, something about your family.” Jinbe began, and Luffy’s eyes widened.

“Ace? Something about Ace?” There was still a pain that crossed Luffy’s face when his older brother was mentioned, but it was a quiet hurt. Luffy would carry that grief for the rest of his life, but Jinbe was no longer concerned it would swallow him whole.

“No, not your brother. Your parents.” Jinbe said, and Luffy’s face scrunched.

“I already know Dragon is my dad. Or did you mean Dadan? I don’t see why anyone would’ve mentioned her. Oh! Maybe you mean Shanks!” He looked excited again, and Jinbe startled.

“I- Shanks? How on Earth do you know Red Haired Shanks? What do you mean parent- no.” Jinbe cut himself off. He would have to file that away for later, when him and Luffy met again and had time to discuss things. Things like why exactly Luffy considered one of the four Emperors a potential parent. “Your other biological parent, Luffy.”

“Oh, my mom? I don’t know anything about her.” Jinbe sighed, not knowing if he would even be able to convince Luffy in the short time he had. Still, he was determined to try.

“Your other parent… appears to be Sir Crocodile.” Luffy stared at Jinbe blankly. “When we we’re leaving Marineford he rescued us from Akainu, and as we left he told me ‘Don’t let them have my son’. Now I know that may be hard to understand, but I believe-”

“Oh okay. So I have two dads? And Sand Gator saved us?” His voice lifted. “He did start acting so funny, didn’t he? Ha! He must have been so surprised! Thanks for telling me Jinbe, I can’t wait to see you in two years! Bye!” Before Jinbe could react, Luffy was gone, stretched back onto the deck of Boa Hancock’s ship.

Jinbe numbly waved back before lowering himself to grasp the whale shark, directing it towards Fishman Island.

“He…” Jinbe muttered to himself. “He took that… very well.”

[galaxyedging]

We all knew when we saw this there were going to be so many blow job fics written, don't judge me.

Seeing Stars

Joel Miller x f!reader.

WC 1.2k

Warnings: oral sex, both receiving. Slight mutual masturbation. Swearing.

No title yet.

Everyone in the QZ knew Joel was dangerous. Even people who only knew him in passing. The energy that radiated from him told people as much. Even within the walls, people weren't safe. Things weren't certain. They shuffled along, lost in memories of days gone by, of their loses, lost in dreams of a better tomorrow. The weight of simply existing in a world that had long since ended, dragging their shoulders down. Joel carried himself differently. He carried that weight of his loss in his heart and his mind, yet his shoulders were always square. Set in readiness. For the next punch, the next hit, the next attack. He didn't carry the same tension as the others in his walk, as Joel had accepted his fate. He was no longer a father and provider. He was a fighter, a killer, a survivor. The self-assured stated of mind echoed in his movements.

If you paid attention, Joel Miller could speak volumes without opening his mouth. You were definitely paying attention as he sat down on the old, battered sofa. One arm slung over the back of it. His shirt stretched tightly over his chest. His jeans moulded to his well-built thighs. One large hand resting lazily over his crotch, drawing your attention from what Joel was saying to where you wanted to be.

Joel didn't miss anything. That's part of the reason he is still alive. He saw your lips part, the tip of your tongue dart out, and your breathing speed up.

He stopped mid sentence. "...is there something you want?"

Shifting, he opened his legs wider, bringing both hands to rest on his thighs. His eyes were on you. Eyes that could hold so much love, even with all the love that had been taken from him. Eyes that could chill a man to his core with their intensity. Right now, they were hard and expectant.

"Come and get it." Stepping forward at his words, he stopped you. "No."

The low timber of his voice and the commanding tone stoked your arousal. Gulping involuntary, you dropped down to your knees. As you crawled on all fours towards him, Joel began to undo his belt. His gaze never left yours even when you sat between his legs. He just kept you pinned there with it.

"Ask me." He rasped.

"Can I suck your cock?" Your pussy twitched in anticipation at the thought.

"Do better." He huffed as he popped the button on his jeans.

"Can I suck your cock, please I want it. I need it."

"Well, I always give you what you need." His hips slipped down towards you until his ass was on the edge of the sofa. He undid this zipper, his semi hard cock instantly visible. His think fingers pulled it out before he pumped it until it reached it's full length. The groans out of him had you ready to come there and then.

Once he was ready he gave you a single instruction 'here' as he pointed between his legs. As soon as you were close enough, he threaded one hand in your functional ponytail. Using it to position you where he wanted you. His other hand held his hard length. He brought the tip towards your mouth, you eagerly prepare to take it.

"No, lips closed." When you obeyed, he ran the tip of it across them smearing precome over them. "Lick it off."

Another groan came from deep within his chest as he watched your tongue greedily clean of what he had given you.

"That was just a taste. Do you want more?"

Not trusting your voice, you nodded eagerly. The hand that was in your hair was instantly at your neck. Pressing lightly at the sides. The web space between his thumb and index finger pressed against your throat as you swollowed.

"Let me hear it. I want to hear how broken you sound. How wet you are before I even touch that pussy, if I do."

"I want more Joel. I want you to come down my throat. Please." You voiced cracked with desperation. Joel had been working so hard lately. You had too. There was barely any time or energy for this.

The hand at your throat slowly trailed back up to your hair. Holding you in place, he pushed the head of his cock passed you lips. Waiting for further instruction you kept them closed as much as you could while taking his girth. "Fuck. Good girl." He moved your head up and down a few times. His movement slow and languid, taking time for himself for the first time in weeks.

"Touch yourself. Take care of yourself. While I take care of myself. While I use this pretty mouth." Now that his length was fully in your mouth, he let go of it. Both hands now came to rest on either side of your head. He controlled it's movements. Bobbing your warm, wet mouth up and down on his length. All you could do was enjoy the weight of him on your tongue, the taste of him, the sounds of pleasure emanating from him. Snaking your hand down into your own well worn jeans, your fingers found your clit ready to touched. The swollen bundle send waves of pleasure through you at the first touch. It wasn't long before you were close, it was only then you got bold enough to disobey Joel. You sucked, hard.

"Oh, shit. Naughty girl." Joel berated. Another suck. "Fuck. Do it again. Suck me hard. Take what you want. Desperate. Little. Thing." The thrusting of his hips punctuated the last sentence.

The next minute was a frenzied raced to the finish. Joel holding your head, his hips lifting off the sofa to thrust deeper as you sucked him in. Your fingers strumming lightening fast over your nerves. As Joel pumped his hot load down your throat with a moan of your name, you were just on the edge of cumming yourself. With the last of his spend still dripping out he pulled out, dribbling it over you chin. Two strong hands pulled you to stand before ripping your jeans down your legs. They were throw away as he Joel leant back on the sofa.

"Sit on my face. Please?" His turn to beg, and he sounded so pretty that you couldn't deny him. Straddling him you wedged your knees into the cushion either side of him as he lapped at your dripping pussy. His tongue caught all the arousal on your folds before dipping inside to fuck your walls. His tongue was replaced with his fingers as his lips and tongue met your clit. They'd barely touched you before you came.

The thing that stuck you most about the end of the world was how much clearer the night sky was. Looking up you could see stars for as far as you could see. Millions of them painted the night sky. Still, their numbers couldn't match those of the ones Joel made you see. They burst in a swirling galaxy behind your eyes as your whole being was consumed with pleasure. The heaviness of your come down collapsed you into Joel's lap. Your head rested on his shoulders. Those shoulder could carry the world, and they could also shield you from it.

Tags @kirsteng42 @babydarkstar @prolix-yuy @thegreenkid @hquinzelle @fangirl-316 @gracie7209 @jedifarmerr @doommommy @scorpio-marionette @sturkillerbase @harriedandharassed @aynsleywalker @mswarriorbabe80 @quica-quica-quica @rise-my-angel @adancedivasmom @graciexmarvel @kinda-nobody @movievillainess721

[courtofthrones]

Pairing: Eris Vanserra x reader

Summary:What happens when two people who are the opposite ends of a thread of fate try to get the other end of the thread to burn knowing they would burn too. Because he was the throne but she will see the throne burn.

A/N: This is a short chapter as I am posting the next one tomorrow.Sorry for the delay but i am mostly done with my papers so the next chapter will be coming soon and things are going to get interesting now that the setup for the story is done. Feedback of any kind is appreciated.

..................................................................................

Stage IV: TRAITORS OF AUTUMN.

Since the day he had mastered over his emotions, Eris Vanserra had never lost his composure .Never .But it seems like today is the fateful day he comes undone.

Allying himself with a "ruinous family" at the expense of his son and heir what was he thinking. His father had truly mastered the art of being a thorn in his son's side.

It has been hours since Beron put all Eris had worked himself to death for, into a precarious position with a single announcement of marriage.

As he snaked through the labyrinth of halls in the Forest house with long strides against the marble floors moonlight entering through the glass walls bounced off his auburn hair creating an image that would inspire the ire of the most talented artists of Pyrthian .Even with distress lining his face Eris Vanserra was truly a sight to behold. Unearthly even .

Betrothed.

Mother above he couldn't even bring himself to say it. No matter how much his body compelled him to just give in. To put an end to all these political scheming and take the beauty chosen by his father as his wife.

His bride to be .Y/n Tarsa. Truly temptation of the deadliest kind.

But Eris has stayed awake through far too many dark nights, working towards the throne just to let everything go to waste at the first sight of trouble. Nevermind the breathtaking packaging it came in. He could subject himself to endless whippings from his father if it would enlighten him about the intention behind this untimely betrothal.

As his father's study came into view he schooled his features into neutrality because even a glimpse of weakness can land him in the dungeons for days. When the heavily gilded doors are opened by the sentries letting him enter the room, Eris comes face to face with the monster in all his nightmares.

Beron Vanserra.The High Lord of Autumn Court. A man responsible for centuries of cruelty and bloodshed.

Eris bowed his head before his father as a greeting.

"My Lord. "

"Eris I did not expect to see you tonight .But then again you truly manage to surprise me with your every action." came Beron's reply without even looking up from his papers as Eris braced himself from any verbal lashing that he may receive.

"One would expect a male of your standing to spend the rest of his nights as a unmarried man drinking and fucking your way through the Crimson street. You know so that the rest of your days don't go to waste before you are shackled in the matters of marriage .But here you are bothering your father about some insignificant matter."

A vile male who didn't see women as anything other than wombs for breeding.But Eris ignored the vomit inducing statement .

"I do not believe the matter of me wanting to know the reason behind my engagement, to be an insignificant matter." Eris manages to reply with a steady voice.

But despite that, Beron's face hardened from his usual indifferent features at the mention of the engagement.

"What about it? Is your bride to be not to your liking?Is she not pretty enough for you to put a child in her?"

"Father you know very well that is not what I meant. What I don't understand is why her. Every single fae in our court knows you despise the Tarsas. And if my memory serves me correct you sentenced their son to death but now you want me to take their daughter as my wife? What would the other houses think about this? What would they think when the lowest of them are rewarded with the highest of honour?"

"They would think of their high lord being merciful and forgiving. But what about you son I thought that's what you wanted. To bind yourself with filth."

An unsettling feeling stirred in Eris' stomach. And he found himself praying to anyone who would listen.

"Do you truly think I am unaware about you dallying with The Night court ? You forget yourself my dear son. You forget I have lived through wars before you even took your first breath." Beron's words loud enough to rattle the glass windows as blood roared in Eris' ears. Did Beron know of all his plans? About his proposal to Rhysand for the eldest Archeon sister's hand so that he could secure himself an alliance? So that he could put himself on the throne.Was this truly the end of all his plans?

" If you are so eager to associate yourself with filth I thought it best for you to have the worst of it. And what could be better than a ruinous insolent woman with a traitor's blood pumping through her. So I called in a favour from an old acquaintance of mine who is desperate to climb the ranks again." continued to the furious high lord.

Eris could see that his father looked utterly satisfied at having outmaneuvered his son. Therefore he couldn't stop himself from blurting out.

"What if I do not wish to get married?"

"Then your wish must be buried this instant because you are to take Y/n Tarsa as your wife in a fortnight. And I will see it happen even if I have to drag your bloodied body to the altar."

Eris knew the sentence for what it was. A threat and a promise.

And he knew there was no arguing if he wanted to leave this room unharmed. Perhaps it was unfair of him but he couldn't help thinking that he would not be in this deep mess if it weren't for the Tarsas. And the one he blamed the most was Y/n Tarsa.

Though his father definitely got one thing wrong.

Traitors? The Tarsa's were no traitors. Because Elias Tarsa did not turn to ashes for treason.It was simply his father's cowardice that put Elias to fire. And brought doom upon the House Of Tarsa.

What a fucking irony.

Eris could laugh himself to the ground because Beron Vanserra had gone blind. Blind to the treason taking life right under his nose.

--

You and Myhir rode through the silence of the night, the clacking of hooves against the road ripping through the air.Having your arms around his stomach had you feeling the muscles in his abdomen underneath his shirt.His scent was as familiar as the back of your hand but it was the underlying scent of your union that tinted your cheeks scarlet.

How many times have you let yourself imagine a life with Myhir-far away from all your problems? If only you met as different people.

But there is no point in pondering upon the what if's because fate had never been on your side.

Especially when you both were trying to leave this world a better place than you found it. Not to coin yourself a poet, but there was something so tragic in overcoming a deadly destiny of trying to oppose a great dynasty.

"Y/n we are here." Myhir softly whispers.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you hadn't noticed the horse stopping.

As Myhir helped you jump off the horse you let yourself drown in the warmth of his embrace. And it seemed you were not alone in that idea because he pulled you closer to him as if allowing himself a moment of happiness before facing the harsh truth of life. As if your time earlier made him a bit more vulnerable and in love.

You cradled his face in your hands as he leaned down for a searing kiss. Unfortunately for you, before it could get any further someone seemed to clear their throat behind you.

The sound caused you to let go of each other with haste and had you both whipping your heads in the direction of it.

"Long time no see lovebirds."

Part 5

[ok555ficideas]

Neil has amnesia and the last things he remembers is his first night in Columbia. Part of "Help me remember"

There was no denying that Andrew was not the only one whose closeness he craved. He didn’t see his teammates for that long since he lost his memories, but even when he didn’t know what was going on he felt his body slightly relaxing at the sight of them, before his mind screamed “Danger” at him. 

He felt it talking to Matt on the phone, he felt it when he heard Dan’s worried voice through the door and most infuriating of all he felt it when he was screaming at Nicky. 

He was angry at Nicky. He wanted to never speak to him again. He wanted to never see him again, but he wanted to hug him at the same time. He wanted to roll his eyes at him and tell him to stop saying stupid shit. 

Neil closed his eyes and forced himself to stop thinking about his teammates. After a while, he looked around and noticed the phone that he picked up before still lying on the side table. It occurred to him that it must have been his. 

He picked it up again and turned it on. Maybe he would understand all of this better if he saw what was there. 

He opened up his massages and to his fury Nicky was at the top of the list. He opened the thread and he saw that most of the conversation was one-sided. He scrolled to the very beginning (which was a lot of scrolling, because Nicky wrote to him about every little thing, it seemed) and saw the flood of the messages that he had received from him in the first few days of owning his phone.

What caught his eye the most was a simple smiling face emoji. He shouldn’t focus so much on that one little symbol. There were many more interesting things in their massages, but somehow that one stood out to him the most.

“See? That’s much better. That’s how a normal human being looks when they check their phone, Neil”

He was tired of this. There were constant, distant memories floating through his brain. Weird dreams, single sentences without any context. Without even thinking about it he dialed Nicky’s phone. 

Nicky picked up after the first ring, but didn’t say anything. Neil didn’t blame him, he probably didn’t know what to say and was scared to piss off Neil even more. Good. Neil wanted him scared. “No you don’t.” a distant voice echoed in his brain, but he chose to ignore it. 

“How did I forgive you? What did you do to deserve it?” He asked softer than he intended. He wanted to be firm, but he couldn’t bring himself to be. 

“I-” Nicky cleared his throat. “I didn’t really do anything. One day we just started talking again. I don’t know why you forgave me. I chose to not look a gifted horse in the mouth and just rolled with it.”

Neil didn’t like that answer. He was hoping for something better, for something more.

“I don’t think it will go the same this time.” He whispered. 

He heard a quiet sob at the other line and he could tell that the next word’s that came out of Nicky’s mouth were spoken through tears. “I- I understand.” 

There was silence for a few seconds and then Nicky spoke with determination. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. It was so wrong on so many levels and it should have never even happened. I Should have never done that. It was stupid and selfish and so out of line. I’m sorry, Neil. I will understand if you never forgive me. I hope you will, because even though you don’t remember we are family.” Nicky stopped for a second, interrupted by his quiet sob. Neil could feel tears streaming down his face as well.

He searched his mind for a proof that what Nicky was saying was true. That they really were a family, but come up empty. He felt it though, deep in his heart, he felt the love he had for Nicky and it was killing him that he was stuck between his body and his mind. He wanted to either forget them all completely or remember everything. 

“You are one of the most important people in my life.” Nicky continued. “Even if you don’t forgive me, even if you won’t ever remember, it’ll still be true.”

“Help me remember?” Neil whispered. 

There was a relieved sigh on the other lain. Nicky was a talker, that much Neil remembered. He kept talking and talking. Telling Neil about everything, even if it wasn’t even something Neil could remember, because some of the stories didn’t include him. 

Nicky’s voice was a white noise Neil desperately needed to calm his racing thoughts. The stories were not as emotionally draining as the one’s told to him by Waymack. There were stupid little things that he would probably forget even if he had all his memories back, but he didn’t care. 

After a while he got tired. He was calm and Nicky’s rumbling got a little overwhelming. He needed a little bit of quiet. 

“Nicky, that’s enough, thank you.” He said and Nicky stopped talking immediately. “I ‘m still not sure if I forgive you.”

“That’s okay, kid. Take as long as you need.” Nicky said, clearly sad, but Neil could hear the understanding in his tone. 

They hung up and Neil decided to shut the phone off again. He wasn’t tired enough to sleep. Not after the amount of sleep he had for the last two days. For now he was content to just stare at the white wall and not think about anything.  

[camille-lachenille]

Day 13 of All of Arda is Autistic:

Prompt: wandering thoughts

Rating: Gen

Featuring Rorimac Brandybuck and Sigismond Took, two of Bilbo’s cousins that I picked in the family trees. They are all close in age and I headcanon they are a bit the predecessors of Frodo, Merry and Pippin.

“The storm last night wasn’t half as bad as I expected,” someone around the table said. “Though the road to Tuckborough is flooded…”

Bilbo tuned the conversation around him to a distant droning, his mind caught on a word. The road goes ever on and on… It would make a very good song… what comes next? The road goes ever on and on, and I must away… No! It didn’t work! Maybe… over hill and under tree. Mmm, better but still not that. He’d had to…

“What do you think Bilbo?” The Hobbit snapped out of his thoughts and gave an apologetic smile to his cousin.

“Sorry Rorimac, I was distracted. Could you repeat you question, please?” Bilbo said, fidgeting with the content of his pocket. Rorimac obliged and Bilbo gave his opinion on the quality of Longbottom’s pipeweed from the year. It wasn’t as good as the harvest from the two previous years due to bad weather, but still far better than the foul leaf the Dwarves favoured.

Well, I was happy when they shared with me. The thought came unbidden, and Bilbo’s mind immediately followed the path of memories. I miss my Dwarves, lack of table manners, smelly socks and all. How are they doing? I hope cleaning the mess left by Smaug wasn’t too tedious. The stench was something to behold for sure! “Mmh? Oh, don’t worry Sigismond, I managed to retrieve everything that had been sold at the auction. Yes, even the silver spoons from Camellia Sackville-Baggin’s clutches. But I reckon I’ve met a dragon less greedy than her!“ there was a lull in the discussion at Bilbo’s mention of his adventure before returning to more proper subjects.

About dragons, I heard in Rivendell that Smaug was small compared to the dragons from past ages. I wonder if I can find something about them in the books Lord Elrond gave me. And now, Bilbo missed Rivendell’s extended library and its hundreds of tomes containing long forgotten lore. I really should learn Elvish more seriously though, if I want to read these books. The Hobbit’s musings were, once again, interrupted by Rorimac. “Could you pass me the potatoes, please. Thank you. But you seem a bit distracted today, cousin. Are you lost in your adventures?”

Bilbo made a vague sound of agreement, his mind returning to the bit of song that had hatched earlier. The road goes ever on and on, over rock and under tree… Yes, that was it! But maybe he could compose something more specific to his adventure with the Dwarves, too? That was an idea to keep in mind.

Again someone asked for his participation in the conversation and Bilbo indulged with good grace. He was a guest to his cousin, after all, and favouring his own thoughts over the current discussion was very rude. But he couldn’t prevent his mind from wandering away every other sentence, caught over a word and threading its own path from there.

After all the social niceties were said and done, Bilbo shrugged his coat on for a walk around Buckland to clear his mind. Rorimac gave him a knowing smile as he handed him an umbrella just in case. “You’re always wandering, Bilbo, even when your feet are still.”

Bilbo smiled back at his cousin. “What were you expecting from a wanderer like me, Rori? I am much more of a Took than I care to admit… but the road is now calling, and I’d like to have my walk before it rains!”

Bilbo closed the door behind him, breathed in deeply and followed the road to the edge of the Old Forest, humming under his breath. But instead of the familiar, gnarled trees, he was seeing the dark and twisted branches of Mirkwood. The Road goes ever on and on, Down from the door where it began. Yes, that was the perfect beginning for his song.

The various bits of songs come from ‘The Road goes ever on’, by Tolkien, and ‘The Last Goodbye’, from the Hobbit movies, and I played around with the verses as Bilbo composes on the spot. The right version is in the last paragraph.

Also, I found very fitting to write about Bilbo when the prompt was about wandering thoughts.

[loth-wolffe]

HI LOVE, THIS IS ME ASKING NICELY FOR 39 WITH WOLFFE...it can be fluff or angst or nsfw hehehehehehehehe whatever ill love it anyways,, thank you!!!

A confession of a something he's not sure he heard

Pairing: Commander Wolffe x fem!reader

Prompt: 39. I thought that I was dreaming when you said you loved me. - Ivy by Frank Ocean

Word count: 1,7k

Warnings: uhhh, a lil (big) splash of smut so there's piv sex. minors stay bACk. also cockwarming hA. and one (1) sentence of dirty talking.

A/n: SO. ship requests drained me entirely and I was rip in peace so I decided to take a small break while I regain my strength. besides I saw s4ep5 for... reasons (*cough cough* wolffe) and wHO would've thought. that bitch got me into my wOLFFE feels. woah. commander how DARE you sir.

anyways, this is for you, anna my darling. hope you like it mwah.

He's been back for three rotations now, and even though it's like it always has been, you still feel like tiptoeing over eggshells.

Wolffe hasn't said it back yet, and it's not like you said it for him to confess it back to you, but with every hour that passes your heart broke at the thought of him not feeling the same, but at the same time, there's no sign of him not doing anything that isn't loving you.

He kisses you the same, with a fervour that makes your legs weak, touches linger more than you could expect as he worships your body, tongue leaves a wet trail as he goes down on you, relishing your skin as if he has never tasted it. And bites hard, nips gently, and sucks with a delirious eagerness every part of your body that he can find. He marks you, as if to claim something, maybe the unspoken feeling from his side of the wall you have tried to break down ever since meeting him, maybe he tries to hold on to the words you did spoke and he refuses for them to settle in his heart because there's the possibility of being scared of the unknown.

A step further into a commitment he might not be ready for just yet.

But that's not the case, though, you can feel it in your bones as you remember how it was him the one that asked if he could stay the night that first time you two enveloped in a warmth of sweat and ecstasy, and it was him the one that invited himself over every time he was around until your home eventually became his too.

It was him, the one that always took that step towards you.

Until now.

Uncertainty molds your body with every breath you take, and you want to say it again because there's there's the chance that he didn't hear you, the words always ready to leave as they wait in the back of your throat for you to push them out and into his arms.

But when is a good time, if it wasn't when you first admit them out loud? Is it as he comes home and kisses you breathless? Or could it be as he steps out of the shower?

Could you tell him when he's between you, with your legs on his shoulders as he acts on those same words and brings you to a quivering edge where all you know it's his name, a trance where all you can think is him, his mouth on you, and the feeling he brings; would it be appropriate then?

As you disregard the doubt that hammers your mind, you tell yourself it's better if you wait for when he's gone again and maybe then, –during one those calls where he's just a holo in your room, a blue image of him that you could break through with your hand if you reach out to touch him– then, you call him out on his lack of response, and if, when, you make a fool of yourself, you can always end the call before Wolffe sees the feelings he brings with his rejection.

It's a safe ground, when you're away from each other, to make silly confessions and admit your deepest secrets, a nonjudgmental space that can hold the embarrassment for you as it dissipates for the next time you look into his eyes.

Yet, it's in the afterglow of a goodbye he breaks the invisible emotional barrier that had settled between yourselves during the last few days.

It's him, again, the one that takes the step towards you.

Wolffe kisses you softly, tasting the sweat of your skin as the two bask in the blissful moments after you have reached your highs. The silence is cut by the occasional sounds of your mouths meeting, and it could've been minutes, it could've been hours of you just like this, feeling the other for what it might be the last time in months.

You sigh into his mouth when he settles better above you, feeling his length awakening once more inside you. He moves slowly, deliberate, and it's in times like these that you wish to know what he's thinking.

It's when his mouth finds your chest that he speaks, lips over your skin to muffle the words because there's no escape if you do hear them.

His voice is hoarse and his breath is warm as they not only hit the skin of your breast but also the muscle that beats for him.

"I love you."

You hear it as your fingers get lost in the dark curls, stopping the movement of your nails against the scalp, eyes snapping open and you find him looking straight at you and into your soul, trying to find something, anything, that lets him know he's not alone in this.

"What?" your voice is a thread, barely a whisper as you can hear the thump of your heart loud in your chest, he must've heard it too, as he kisses the surface of the place that holds it between your ribcages.

"Thought I was dreaming when you said it," he whispers as he makes a path of kisses from your sternum to your jaw, your breath gets caught in your throat and his lips ghost on yours, "but even if that's true, it doesn't change the fact that I do."

His mouth is hot against yours, and your walls flutter with him still inside, dragging a groan that you happily drink from his lips.

"Why did you wait to tell me?"

But you know why. For the same reason you them held back and ended up choking on the words.

"Why haven't you told me?" his words pierce through you like a knife, and you open your mouth to confess your excuse but it gets stuck before it rolls off your tongue.

You have.

Days ago, you did. In a rushed conversation where he told you he was coming home the next day, before he had to go, as darkness covered the sky and you looked up trying to find him in the vast ocean of planets and stars even though it was impossible for you to do so. You had told him right after he said goodbye, weakly, scared he might not return to you, but you had told him, in a whisper, in the safeness of your side of the line,

"I love you, be safe."

And it's until now that you're sure he heard, it took him a few seconds for the call to finally end.

"I did." Is all you say.

Wolffe smirks and leans down to suck the conjunction where your jaw meets your neck.

"Why not say it again?" He's teasing you, you know it, but it's the need of reassurance in his voice that stirs something in your stomach, a pang of guilt, perhaps, because you're taking too long, and maybe it's because you know how it feels that you don't want to drag it any longer.

"I love you."

He hums, kissing the corner of your mouth, and if it weren't for the smile on his own you would've believed his next words came from a different place.

"You're just saying that."

You shake your head, your refutation leaves in a little sound because you can't seem to think of anything else to say, not when he leaves open mouthed kisses in your skin, it is when his tongue meets the perky flesh of your nipple that you let out a breathy, "I'm not."

"Is it because I'm still balls deep inside you?"

You could cry, because he's making it hard for you when it should be the other way around; you should be the one showing no mercy because it was him the one who delayed his answer for three days instead of a second.

But you don't find it in you to tell him to stop, either. Always at his mercy.

And the way he says it, how he says it, sends a wave of arousal down to were you're intertwined, you feel him twitch inside you and only him can turn a soft moment like this, an admission such as the one you're letting on, into something lustful enough that drowns the affection that drips from his eyes.

"Wolffe, I–"

But whatever you were going to say is cut off by the thrust he gives, deep and slow and you can feel him whole, the remnants of his last orgasm lubricating the two of you and he pulls back all the way to the tip before he slips back in with a squelching sound, toes curling at the feeling of him moving again and he grunts in your ear.

You moan, not knowing what else to do as you hold him by his shoulders, nails digging on his skin as you feel your body rock with the intensity of each thrust, needing something to anchor you and keep you grounded while you try to keep up with a conversation that happens between your eyes.

"Say it." It's the need in his tone that makes you tell him with an urgency you hope that matches the one in his eyes.

"I love you."

He growls, low but powerful enough that it rumbles in his chest, and his teeth take your lobe as he pulls lightly from it. Another thrust of his hips makes you cry out.

"Again." Wolffe demands, and you realize that it's for him to not forget, to hold on to the words the best he can, and it's all because he doesn't want, he refuses, to spend another day with his own doubts.

He wants to make sure he heard them right this time.

And it's between cries and sighs and moans that you repeat it until it's only a breathy chant that falls from your lips as you reach that peek he knows how to push you towards in the most perfect way.

And it's not until he's back on that soft side that only shines in the aftertaste of it all that he says them again, as his lips caress the bruised skin once more and his hands massage the marks on your hips. It's in a light voice and with warmth clouding his eyes that he makes you know he feels just the same.

taglist: @foodandbooksplease @dottiechan @ladykatakuri @tacticalsparkles @lightning-wolffe @hellothere-generalangsty @beskarprincessjenny @badbatch-simp24 @milppa @obi-bae-kenobi @baroclinicinstability @murdertoothpick @ahsoka1 @kybacrystal @arkainea

u can join or leave the taglist ✨ here ✨

[nejibaby]

Small Details

Pairings: Neji x Y/N

Summary: Neji was a man of few words, even more so with you, and when he sees you with Naruto in a compromising position, he has troubles expressing himself.

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: And I finally managed to finish this! It took me so long! Today, I offer you a flustered Neji... 👀 I hope y’all enjoy it because I may or may not have melted after writing this 😚

✨Photo taken from this post by @yul-is-sparkling ✨

Naruto was finally back after two years of training with Jiraiya. Being one of his closest friends, you were excited to meet him and to see for yourself how much he’s grown.

Naturally, you challenged him to a duel the first time you saw him again. It was kind of your thing with Naruto — competing with each other on who’s faster, stronger, better in ninjutsu, anything really. Mainly because Sasuke, who he often referred to as his rival, would rarely indulge him with such things, and you did. You were both competitive like that.

In no time, you were both alone on the training grounds. You could already tell how drastic his improvements were within the start of the battle.

You were in awe at how the Legendary Sannins could bring out the best in their apprentices. But despite not being trained by them, that didn’t mean you were lagging behind.

In those two years when Sasuke seeked Orochimaru for power, Naruto trained under Jiraiya, and Sakura learned from Tsunade, you were the only one in Team 7 who remained under the supervision of Kakashi sensei.

Kakashi sensei may not be a Legendary Sannin, but he was a formidable shinobi — one of the best during his generation even. However, truthfully, he infuriated you at first, not because of how late he always was — you were pretty used to it to the point that you don’t question him anymore about his whereabouts and he stopped coming up with excuses as to why he was late — but because there were times when he was too laidback.

Sure, there were moments when he was hands-on: teaching you different jutsus, lecturing you about certain concepts, informing you on what you should always look out for, drilling your body past exhaustion, and the like. But more often than not he would be saying something like, “Find it out yourself” or “I can’t exactly tell you how” as he leisurely sits on a tree branch while reading the stupid Icha Icha books.

You were dumbfounded and furious at first but when your initial annoyance subsided and you had adjusted to his teaching style, you flourished.

That’s why you could take on Naruto even after his training with Jiraiya.

What started as a serious duel between you and Naruto was reduced to playful banter the longer the fight dragged on. At one point, both of you would just tease each other while throwing kicks and punches halfheartedly.

Both of you had your guards down. That was a mistake on your part, because just as Naruto aimed to kick your face and you bent over backwards to dodge it, you slipped. You lost your footing all because of a rock situated near your right foot.

It was a rookie mistake.

Naruto was quick to notice that you were falling so he immediately grabbed ahold of your hand. The problem was he failed to pull you back up. So you ended up falling down with him. And somehow, he ended up with his arms on the sides of your head so he wouldn’t crush you as you were underneath him.

You were both shocked. You were just blinking at each other. It took awhile for the two of you to gather your bearings. When you did, you both immediately laughed out loud. Naruto moved his body so he was lying next to you as you both continued laughing your hearts out.

“What the hell was that, Naruto?!” You feigned exasperation. “You wouldn’t be able to save a fly if you tried.”

“At least I wasn’t the one making rookie mistakes like that,” Naruto shot back. “Plus I tried to help, that’s what matters.”

You snorted. “Yeah, right. You could’ve at least focused your chakra on your soles so we didn’t fall!”

“And you could’ve paid attention to your surroundings, Y/N!”

You bickered with each other as you stood up and helped Naruto get up. What the two of you didn’t know was that your boyfriend Neji had watched the whole incident.

Neji wasn’t really the type to get jealous. He’s a very understanding boyfriend. He’s aware that you and Naruto have been best friends even before he met you. He even knew about Naruto’s feelings for Sakura. However, any sane person wouldn’t want to see his significant other beneath someone else, right? Granted, it was an accident, but still… It was such a compromising position to find you in.

He made his appearance as you playfully punched Naruto in the gut.

You instantly noticed him approaching. Your smile widened even more at the sight of your boyfriend. “Neji!” You called, skipping your way towards him. You would’ve tackled him in a hug if Naruto wasn’t around.

He maintained his stoic expression as he greeted, “Y/N. Naruto.”

“Oi Neji, it’s been a while,” Naruto waved.

Neji only gave a curt nod in response.

You asked, “What are you doing here, Neji?” but just as you ended your question, the answer immediately clicked on your mind. “Oh my god, I’m sorry I forgot!”

Over your excitement of Naruto’s arrival, you forgot that it was a Tuesday. Tuesdays were your lunch dates and sparring sessions with Neji.

“It’s okay.”

“Hold on.” you told him and then faced Naruto. “Gotta go, Naruto! Bye!” you said as you grabbed Neji’s hand out of habit.

Neji flushed, not exactly expecting your action, but you didn’t notice because it was something that you’re used to doing, although not in the presence of someone else.

“See you later!” Naruto waved.

When Naruto was out of sight, you dropped Neji’s hand unconsciously. “Sorry, I forgot about lunch. What time is it? Have you eaten?” You asked Neji.

He quickly responded and told you he hasn’t eaten anything yet.

“Well then, let’s go. I’m starving.”

Neji and you walked side by side out of the training grounds.

“So…” you started saying.

Neji stared at you. “Hm?”

“How was your day, baby?”

He cleared his throat and looked away almost instantly. Very rarely would one find Neji flustered, but calling him “baby” always worked. He wasn’t quite used to the endearment and every time you addressed him as such with tenderness laced in your voice, he would blush. You use it all the time just to see his cheeks tinted pink. It was a cute sight.

“What’s wrong?” You playfully asked while trying to get into his line of vision.

He refused to meet your gaze until he regained his composure. When he did, he told you — in an impassive manner — what he had done in the morning before he went out looking for you.

Despite his expressionless face and his rather hushed tone, you listened intently to the words he was saying, the smile on your lips never leaving your face. Neji was a man of few words even until now that you were together so you made sure you paid attention every time he spoke, not wanting his words to go to waste.

He wouldn’t admit it to you but he loved that about you. You would remember even the little details of his stories, which in itself was a big deal considering you tend to forget a lot of things. You treasured his words, sentences, thoughts, ideas and plans, and kept them enclosed in your memory.

Neji loved that you focused on him. You made him feel like he was important and worthy, and that he mattered, in a completely different way than the others’ view of him.

The others only saw him as important because he was an asset both to the Hyuga clan and to Konoha. He only mattered to them because he has the strength and ability to protect them.

But you didn’t see him that way. You saw him as his own person — a man with a brilliant mind, a great moral compass, and a heart of gold. This was further confirmed when you told him that if his circumstances were different — if he was not a Hyuga or even a shinobi — you’d still fall in love with him as long as his character remained the same.

He knew you love him, there was no doubt about that. It was known; it was an irrefutable truth, an indisputable fact. But why did seeing you with Naruto trigger his insecurities that you had previously put to rest?

His mind was reeling, but he tried his hardest to be in the moment with you.

The thing was, he might have misread you a little. Because the attention that you gave him wasn’t solely focused on his words. In actuality, it extended to his actions and mannerisms as well.

This was how you knew that there was something that was bothering Neji today.

Unwelcome thoughts swarmed his mind, leading him to absentmindedly reach out to you. He was walking beside you closer than usual, with his hand on your lower back. While there was no doubt that he was listening to you when it was your turn to tell him about your day with Naruto, he had a faraway, vacant look on his face.

You may have missed the presence of a rock a while ago, but you certainly wouldn’t miss these small details about Neji.

These might come across as something normal for other people, but for someone like you who dedicated a lot of time admiring and memorizing every little detail of the certain Hyuga boy, it was easy to tell that something was on his mind from the way he was taking up a portion of your personal space. Almost as if his own restrictions were non-existent.

Normally, it would’ve been easier to confront him about it, but you were a shinobi, and if there’s something you learned from Kakashi sensei, it was that you have to gather more intel before actually making a move.

But you could only think of one way to confirm if there was something bothering your partner, and it was through his hair.

On regular days, Neji wouldn’t allow anyone to touch his hair, including you. But when there was something that was bothering him, or if he had a particularly rough day, he wouldn’t mind it if you threaded your fingers through his hair. In fact, he wouldn’t admit it, but he preferred it if you did that. It was something that calmed him down.

So while you continued telling him how your day went, you subtly angled your body towards him. Then you tentatively reached for the tips of his hair with your hand that was closest to him. You managed to grab a few strands of his hair between your thumb and index finger. You twisted them between your fingers.

You looked up to him to check if he was bothered by it, but it seemed like he didn’t mind at all. This certainly meant that his mind was elsewhere, despite the fact that he was nodding in the right parts of your speech and even correcting you when you used the wrong word to describe something.

You retracted your hand after coming up with your conclusion. You even stopped talking as you were thinking of what could’ve happened for him to be this distracted. Neji didn’t even notice you stopped talking mid sentence.

Somehow this just felt different from the times he was frustrated or anxious before, and quite frankly, you were worried.

By the time you had both placed orders and seated in a random restaurant, you decided to confront your partner. “So, Neji, baby, are you going to tell me what’s bothering you?”

He choked on nothing after hearing your question. Was he really that easy to read? Or was it easy just because it was you reading him?

He cleared his throat and feigned ignorance, “What are y-you talking about?”

You opted to give him a pointed look instead of a verbal response.

He didn’t stare back, looking anywhere but you. Most times, Neji would face you head on until you conceded; with you, he was comfortable being stubborn and unyielding because it came without repercussions. But today, he wasn’t up for the challenge. And if you looked more closely, he was once again sporting a faint color on his cheeks.

You waited a moment for him to answer, or at least to look back, but it was to no avail. With a sigh, you said, with the softest tone you could muster partnered with a reassuring smile, “Would you let me know when you’re ready, at least?”

Surprisingly, Neji looked at you then. “It’s nothing… It’s just… something silly.”

You gently grabbed a hold of his hand. “Don’t tell me it’s silly, I know it isn’t if it bothers you, baby. You don’t have to tell me now if you aren’t comfortable yet, hmm? Just know I’ll be here to listen to you.” You gave him a genuine smile and a small squeeze to his hand before letting go.

Neji’s eyes hadn’t strayed from then onwards. He had to admit sometimes he would forget how incredibly kindhearted you were, even more so when it came to him. You always made sure he was comfortable. You never forced him into doing or saying things that he wasn’t ready to do or say. You allowed him to make his own decisions and respected them, something that rarely came from being a subordinate of Konoha and a member of the branch family of the Hyuga clan.

Life as a shinobi was sometimes constricting, but you were his breather from all that.

It was your turn to be bashful from his stare. You could feel your face warming up from the unexpected, scrutinizing gaze. “Neji, stop it.”

“What?”

“Stop looking at me like that.”

“Stop being beautiful, then.”

The words that came out of Neji’s lips startled you. It wasn’t everyday he would actually use words to tell you you’re beautiful. The way he expressed his appreciation to your beauty would come in the form of fluttering kisses or gentle brushes on your body parts — coincidentally, or not, on parts where you feel the most insecure about.

Fortunately for you, the food came at the right moment, since you weren’t exactly sure how to respond to his unexpected compliment. You both ate in silence then, occasionally peeking at each other  — almost like how it was when you first started dating each other.

When you were done with lunch, you expected to take the route towards the training grounds like you both usually did, but Neji’s hand has taken solace on your back once again and this time with intent to guide you to a different direction.

You were confused but you followed anyway. “Where are we going?”

“To my place.” A pause. “Is that fine with you?”

“Sure” was all you could say. Admittedly, you were quite tired from the duel you had with Naruto earlier and you didn’t really have enough energy to spar with Neji, considering he never went easy on you.

By the time you had entered his place, he graciously offered his couch to you, as if sensing your exhaustion. You immediately plopped down on his couch after setting aside your footwear by his front door.

“Tired?”

“Very,” you mumbled.

He handed you a glass of water, knowing you weren’t quite fond of tea. He sat down beside you just as you thanked him and sipped on your drink.

Setting aside the glass, you leaned back on the couch, only to be welcomed by Neji’s arms. A small smile automatically crept into your lips from the gesture. You snuggled into him as a reflex.

It was moments like this with Neji that you treasured most. While you enjoyed tagging around with him and the rest of Team Guy on missions, you preferred spending time with him peacefully like this, without the imminent threat of danger looming over your heads. It was rather a rare occurrence, after all, for two shinobis like you both were.

Neji was first to break the comfortable silence. “I saw you with Naruto a while ago.”

“You did? When?” You excitedly asked while trying to pull away from his embrace to look directly to his face. But for some reason, he kept you in place, your cheek pressed to his neck. “Did you see me kick his ass? Like literally.”

“Yes,” he answered flatly. It was a response that sounded so… dry. Usually when you both talked about Naruto, there would be a fondness from his tone. “But… I also saw something else…” he trailed off.

You raked your mind, trying to remember what had happened earlier. Then the memory of falling down flashed on your mind, and suddenly you felt embarrassed for Neji having to witness such a mistake. “Oh no!” You jumped out of his grasp, startling him in the process. “You saw me fall down! That’s so embarrassing!” You covered your face with your palms.

“Well, yes… but—”

You snapped your head at the tone he used. He didn’t sound like he was going to tease you for your mistake, in fact, it kind of sounded like he was worried.

“I’m fine though, if you’re worried,” you offered, assuming he thought you got hurt from the fall.

“I’m glad you are not hurt,” he said. Not long after you noticed him visibly gulping.

You could tell there was something else in his mind, and whatever it was, you had a feeling it might’ve been the thing that was bothering him a while ago. You tried to come up with guesses as to what it could’ve been. As you recalled how the conversation started and considered how he was acting, a plausible answer popped into your mind.

“Are you perhaps… jealous?” You hesitantly asked. He was the first one to initiate this conversation so you were assuming he was ready to talk about it. Despite that though, you didn’t want to force him to talk so you carefully and reluctantly asked him. He was always allowed to drop the topic if he wasn’t comfortable and he knew that.

Neji cleared his throat as soon as the words left your mouth all the while avoiding to meet your eyes once again. “Maybe,” he almost inaudibly said.

You were surprised by his answer. It wasn’t always that Neji got jealous. The only time he was was when a stranger was blatantly hitting on you in front of him while you were on a mission together.

“It did not sit right with me seeing you in an… inappropriate position with someone else.” He explained. The tone he used sounded like the one he used with the Hokage when he was taking responsibility for something that went horribly wrong on a mission.

“Don’t make it sound like it’s wrong,” you said softly as you cupped his face. “You don’t have to feel guilty about feeling jealous. Your feelings are valid.”

The gentleness and warmth in your voice made his heart flutter. If this was a conversation with someone else, he was sure he was going to get teased for feeling this way, but it was with you, and you had always been different.

“I love you, Neji,” you said before you kissed his lips.

It was amazing how the three words you used that preceded his name could easily wipe out the jealousy that had brewed inside him. This was another testament of how well you knew Neji — not only did you know the small details about him, but you also know the right words to ease his worries.

[uncpanda]

Happy Little Accident

Prompt: Hello can you write an Aaron Hotchner x reader story where they used to date but Aaron left her because he had to go into witness protection and maybe a couple years later he comes back to the BAU and somehow finds out that he has a daughter with reader and is still madly in love with reader but it takes the reader a while to let Aaron back into their life and meet their daughter. Something like that...

AN: You cannot begin to understand how happy this story makes me. You have no idea. This was actually something I had considered for Small Town Moose, and then scrapped. I’m happy I got to write it! I want to stress that you get a very happy ending! 

He has you pulled tight against his chest, his hand is splayed out on your abdomen, and one of his legs is wedged between yours. The mortification, of having slept with your boss, is palpable. You hadn’t meant to, of course. 

You and Aaron had always been close, more often than not you worked as partners on cases and teamed up in the field, and while there had always been chemistry, neither one of you had ever dared to act on it. And then he had uttered a sentence that had made your heart clench in fear, “I’m being reassigned to a task force in Pakistan for the foreseeable future.” First you had lost Emily, and now you were losing him. 

You had sat there shell shocked for several minutes while the others had filed out of the room. Aaron had stayed behind, taking the seat next to yours before hesitantly reaching for your hand. Casual touches like that had never been a big deal for the two of you. 

You had threaded your fingers through his, and had allowed him to help you stand. He hadn’t even gotten a word out before you had yanked him to you; your lips crashed against his, and to your pleasure he had responded in kind. Derek had once called you the Hotchner whisperer; he had called your ability to understand what Aaron was thinking, with only a look, terrifying. 

And the look in his eyes, at that moment had told you everything you needed to know. You wouldn’t be walking straight for a week. And now, here you were; naked, after the best sex you’ve ever had, with Aaron wrapped around you. All you could smell, feel, and see was him. Jack would be home first thing this morning, he and Aaron were going to spend the day together, before he had to leave at four thirty the next morning. You heart constricted at the thought. 

A kiss to your shoulder, then a nip to your neck, and another nip to the lobe of your ear stops your thoughts. Aaron’s fingers run up and down your belly, before settling on your hip. You’re tugged even closer to his chest, if that’s possible and he wipers, “Don’t go there. Not yet.” 

You swallow the lump in your throat, “Go where?” 

“To me leaving.” 

You let out a rye laugh, “That’s kind of hard Hotch.” 

“Aaron, when we’re at home, call me Aaron.” 

You let out a breath, “This was stupid, we’re risking our friendship, our working relationship, everything over one night.” 

He rolls you so that you’re pinned under him, his serious face is in place, “Who said anything about just one night?” 

Your breath hitches in your throat, and you turn your head away. Aaron places a kiss on your exposed throat, “I’ve wanted this for years Y/N.” 

You screw your eyes shut and Aaron places a kiss on each of them before he runs a thumb over the furrow in your brow, smoothing the skin, “What are you thinking?” 

“It’s too good to be true.” 

You feel his hands cup your face, and his thumbs run over your cheeks, you allow your eyes to open, and there’s Aaron, smiling down at you, dimple and all, “It’s true. Think you’ll want me when I get back.”

This time it’s you who leans up and kisses him, “Absolutely.” 

You stay for about one more hour before you leave. Communication with Aaron will be non-existent for however long he’s gone, and any communication he does get needs to go to Jack. You tell him that, and a look of relief floods his eyes before he kisses you silly and thanks you for understanding. 

The next two weeks are WEIRD. It’s strange not having Aaron in the room, on the plane, or shooting you secret looks that only you can understand. But you deal with it by worrying about him. You actually worry yourself sick, to the point where you have to take a few days off to deal with a stomach virus. Penelope stops by with a care package, and you return to work a few days later with only occasional nausea. You assure Derek that you’re fine. 

That assurance is proven false when in the middle of a briefing on the jet you rush to the bathroom and empty your stomach. It’s Dave of all people who follows you. He holds your hair back, and rubs your back, and murmurs comforting words in Italian. 

When you’re done your mouth tastes fuzzy, there’s a slight sheen of sweat on your forehead, and all your energy is gone. He doesn’t say anything, but it doesn’t stop the rest of the team from gathering outside the door to the bathroom and peering in. You run your hands over your face, “I was certain I was over this bug.” 

JJ gives you a sweet smile, “I don’t think this is a bug.” 

You’re too tired to think about her words, “You think it’s something chronic?” 

Derek gives you an easy, kind smile, “I think you’ve got a bun in the oven baby girl.” 

The cold reality of that statement washes over you, and you can feel the bile rising again. You turn back to the toilet as Dave goes back to his previous duties, while Spencer and JJ fuss at Morgan. You want to say it’s not his fault, it yours and Aaron’s for being in too much of a hurry to use protection. 

You’re a grumpy mess when you land, but you try to keep it professional. Derek apologizes profusely and you wave him off. You ignore the problem at hand in favor of focusing on the serial killer you’re hunting. You catch him three days later.

The night before you’re due to leave the team shows up at your door, Dave is holding a bag filled with several different types of pregnancy tests, and Spencer has a giant bottle of water. He grins and thrusts it towards you, “You’re going to need this.” 

From there you down several bottles of water, while Derek and Spencer ask JJ about pregnancy tests and the next steps. No one asks who the potential father is, and you figure they’ve probably figured it out. The tension between you and Hotch isn’t exactly a secret. 

When it comes time for the tests, Spencer has devised a system, and memorized the directions and times for each one, as well as the positive and negative signals. 

Fifteen minutes later you find out the truth: you’re pregnant, knocked up, with child, in the family way; and your baby’s father was on the other side of the world, with no way of being reached without it being an emergency. Not to mention there was no telling what the agency would do if they found out you and your supervisor had taken your relationship to a non professional level. Plus a letter could literally take months to arrive, and the phone calls Derek made and got were recorded and monitored, and damn . . . . you were screwed.  

You collapse on the bed, and JJ and Spencer cuddle up on either side of you. Your life was the stuff of a bad soap opera. 

The moment you get back to Washington, Derek tells you you’re out of the field. You can still travel, but there’s no going anywhere dangerous. JJ recommends her OBGYN, and Spence starts reading every book on pregnancy he can get his hands on. He wants to see what’s changed since JJ had Henry, and he promises to make you a cheat sheet.

Dave is a bit of a surprise, he comes to your apartment several times a week and cooks for you. You never ask why, but you enjoy the time with the man. Your relationship with your biological father was non-existent, and Dave was an excellent substitute. 

Your first doctor’s visit is terrifying. Penelope volunteers to go with you, and you’re grateful. You’re unsure about the paperwork. Aaron is an excellent father to Jack, but whatever the two of you have is new, and undefined, and a traitorous little part of your brain wonders if he wants another child. Then you reassure yourself, because you want this baby and that’s what matters. 

You get to listen to the heartbeat, and that’s the moment things become real. You’re quick to get a recording of it, and when you start to tear up Penny just squeezes your hand. . . and then asks for a copy of the recording. You give it to her. You know she needs happy things in her life, and a baby is the perfect thing for her to focus on. That night, you fall asleep with your hand laid protectively over your belly and the baby that rests there.

Morning sickness. . . in your opinion . . . is a bitch. And in your case it is persistent. The team now spends their debriefing times on the plane outside the bathroom. One of them holds your hair, while they all bounce ideas back and forth. It actually irritates you, and then it makes you weepy, and then Derek pulls you into a big bear hug and you sink into the human contact. 

When the team realizes that hugs seem to help, you typically find yourself with one of them touching you. JJ likes to hold your hand, and lean her head against yours, Penny likes to straight up cuddle, more often than not Derek slings an arm around your shoulder and tucks you into his side, Dave lets you lean on him when you get tired, he’s also constantly pushing food on you. Spencer, who isn’t big on human contact, gives you a stuffed elephant to hug, and that helps too, especially at night. 

The joke very quickly becomes, that this is a team baby, and the thing is, they’re not wrong. Derek and Dave are the ones that go with you to the ultrasound appointment. They’re both ticking with nervous and excited energy. And when the nurse refers to them as dad and grandpa, you laugh for several minutes straight. Dave is the one to correct her.

The ultrasound is fascinating because you can actually see how your baby is turning into a tiny person; you can make out a head and belly, and little feet. Derek nearly presses his nose to the screen, he’s so excited. They force the poor tech to print out what has to be a million copies of the pictures. When you return to the bureau they hand them out like candy to the rest of the team. You find a framed copy on your desk the next morning. 

As you move out of your first trimester and into your second, the morning sickness is replaced by hunger. JJ starts keeping a snack bag on hand for you, in addition to the one you pack for yourself. Yours is filled with whatever you’re craving, while the one she has is filled with healthy mommy snacks. You’re quick to remind her of that daily milkshake she had when she was pregnant with Henry. 

You notice that your clothes are starting to feel a little tight going into your fourth month. Your bras are no longer comfortable, your jeans are digging into your belly, and when you finally examine yourself in the mirror you see a very visible little bump. You sigh, because you know this means shopping.

That’s something you do by yourself. You know JJ and Pen would want to make a day out of it, and you just don’t have the desire for that. You’re in the middle of the maternity section when you hear your name called. You turn around just in time to catch Jack as he plows into you. Jess and his grandfather are right behind him, and you push the panic to the side in order to just enjoy having the boy in your arms. 

He’d been staying with Jess and his grandfather while Aaron was gone, and you hadn’t had a chance to see him. Jess was keeping him on a schedule and she had a life of her own, but you still missed the boy. You had gone from seeing him at least twice a week to nothing. 

Jack starts talking a mile a minute, stopping long enough for Jess to say hi, and for Roy to nod at you. Aaron had told you of Roy’s dislike for him, how he blamed him for Haley’s death, and by extension blamed the team. Your heart clenches a bit when Jack mentions all the letters he’s gotten from Aaron. While Jack talks you watch as Jess studies the section you’re in and then the contents of your cart. You can see the moment the realization hits her. 

She lets Jack go on for a few more minutes before she sends him off to the food court with Roy. You can tell her father is grateful to finally be moving on, and she promises to catch up in a minute. 

There’s an awkward moment of silence before she opens her mouth, and then closes it, and then opens it again, “Is it . . . ?” 

“Yeah.” 

“When?” 

“Two nights before he left. I snuck out right before you brought Jack home.” 

There’s another moment of silence before she says, “Well it’s about damn time. The tension was getting so bad, I was afraid it was going to smother everyone else.” You sag in relief, and then she asks, “Does he know?” 

“No. All communication is being monitored, and I don’t want to put him in a bad spot. I don’t even know if he wants another . . .” 

“He does.” She answers so quickly it surprises you. She gives a sheepish smile, “He and Haley always wanted a big family. Haley and I were two out of four, and Aaron always wanted that normal, big family. He didn’t have that growing up. But Haley had trouble getting pregnant. When they had Jack they were ecstatic.” 

“Well who wouldn’t be ecstatic about Jack?” 

She pulls you into a hug, “He’s going to be excited, you should tell him. Plus this means I get to be an aunt again!” 

She leaves you a few minutes later. You finish your shopping, and you’re just about to head out when you see it, one of those build a stuffed animal places. You hesitate for two minutes, enter and exit the store multiple times, before you finally woman up. You spend entirely too much time picking an animal: there’s a peacock, a groundhog, a fox, a cat, and numerous bears, before you land on a bunny rabbit. It’s cute and soft. 

You have it filled, place the heart inside and then you take out your phone, and have the recording transferred into a little device. The device is placed in the paw, and when it’s squeezed, the heartbeat of your baby will play. You pray, with everything you have that he catches on. It’s better than nothing at least. You dress the bunny in a little FBI shirt, and then head to the post office to send it off. 

Your bump grows more prominent over the next few weeks, and all of a sudden people you don’t even know are asking to touch you. It freaks you out, you’ve spent too many years chasing serial killers to know what people can do if they get too close to you. Your colleagues at the bureau are slightly more respectful, if only because Dave, Spence, and Derek follow you everywhere and glare at anyone who reaches for you without asking. It’s the same when you go on cases, you’re not left alone. The team seems terrified that something is going to happen to you, and it’s with hindsight that you realize you did the same with JJ when she was pregnant. 

You’re halfway through month five, and your bump is no longer able to be hidden. You’re in what Penelope has deemed, the glowing stage of pregnancy. You laugh for three minutes straight before telling her it’s sweat. You’re positioned in front of a fan, flipping through a magazine, at eight o’clock at night when you get the call. Derek has a lead on Doyle. 

By the time you get there Doyle is in custody, and Derek is trying to get something out of him. You listen on the other side of the glass, “I never wanted children. I knew how they could be used against me, but my boy . . . he’s my life.” 

Derek is less than happy, “And now he’s been kidnapped.” 

You listen in horror as Doyle talks about Declan’s mother. It makes you a little nauseous, and Dave is quick to escort you out and to his office. You try to wave him off but he doesn’t accept it, he leaves you with order to rest. Reluctantly, you stretch out on his couch. You smooth a hand over your bump, a reassurance that your baby is safe, that you’re not in the same situation Doyle is in. You can’t help but think, this kid will be lucky if they ever get to leave your sight. You doze for about half an hour before a very smiley Penelope comes and gets you. She drags you to the conference room and what you see there makes the breath leave your body.

A wide eyed Aaron is standing there; he’s lost weight, you blame bad military food, he’s dressed in the most casual clothes you’ve ever seen on him, and he’s sporting a beard. You feel your body flush, and you know it’s only somewhat caused by the pregnancy hormones and a lack of sex for five months. The other part is just your usual desire for him. 

His eyes are wide at the sight of you, and you don’t try to hide your bump, in fact you cradle it. You don’t know if he got the rabbit or not, and if he did, you don’t know if he figured it out. A part of you hopes he moves towards you, instead, he starts talking about a choice he made seven months ago. You actually feel your legs go weak when Emily enters the room. Dave is there, an arm around your waist to support you. 

She smiles at you, her hands go to your bump and you can see a few tears glistening on her lashes, “Look at you mama.” 

You clutch her to you in a tight hug, when she pulls back she says, “I’m going to need details about this as soon as we’re done.” You give her a hesitant smile, because you’re not sure how you feel about this; about being lied to. 

You move out of the room and down to Penny’s lair before either Emily or Aaron can stop you. You’re not allowed to go with them, you know that, and you figure it’s as good a place to hide as any. You watch alongside Penelope as everything goes down, and once everything is in the clear, you make a mad dash to your car, and then home. Once you’re inside your apartment and safe, you lock the door and set the alarm. You need to be alone. Your hand smoothes over your baby. But you aren’t alone, your little one is growing inside of you, and you’re very grateful for it. 

You get the email the next morning, that you’ve been suspended alongside the rest of the team. There’s also a separate email addressed to you and Aaron about wanting to see the two of you later today. The amount of snide comments that come to your mind are astounding. You know for a fact that Dave and Strauss have been sleeping together. . . then again Dave didn’t knock her up? 

 You pick out your comfy jeans and pretty top, slide your feet into some flats, and head out the door. You arrive a little early and settle at your desk until your meeting time. Out of the corner of your eye, you watch as Aaron comes out of his office. He pauses on the walkway, and stares down at you, you stare back. He’s shaved the beard, and you wonder what it says about you, that you’re more upset about that . . . than him hiding the fact that Emily was alive?  Can you blame this one on the pregnancy? 

He’s just pushed off the railing and walking towards the stairs when Strauss calls out your names. He freezes, but he doesn’t immediately turn. Instead he waits for you at the top of the stairs, and when you pass him, his hand settles on the small of your back. 

When you enter the office, his hand stays where it is, and when Erin insists that you sit and rest Aaron stands behind you. His hand settles on your shoulder, and his thumb rests against the sliver of skin at your neck. His hands are warm. You glance up at him; everything in his body language screams protective. 

The next half hour is spent with Strauss explaining how Aaron came to her, her asking if you wanted to file a complaint, you didn’t, and then a half hour lecture on how she should transfer one of you, but won’t. You can tell Aaron is somewhat surprised when you leave the office after filling out some paperwork, and being told that Dave will be your direct supervisor from now on. 

As you walk out of the office, after handing in your credentials and sidearms until you get your jobs back, Aaron’s hand lands on your back and he steers you towards his office. You let him, as you remind yourself that you’re mad at him. 

The minute the door is closed, his arms are around you, and you’re tucked under his chin. You twist your fingers into his dress shirt, and you can feel the tears start. You’ve missed the bastard so damn much. His fingers card through your hair, and he presses a kiss to the crown of your head and whispers, “You’re so strong sweetheart, and so clever.” His hands move to cup your face and he places a little kiss on your forehead, then your nose, one on your cheek, and then he brushes his lips over yours. You wine a bit and there’s this look in his eyes. 

He smiles and brushes away the tears with his thumbs, “How in the world did you think to put the heartbeat in a bunny?” 

You sigh, this is familiar ground, “I was shopping for maternity clothes, and ran into Jess and Jack and Roy. Jess figured it out. I wasn’t showing too much so I don’t think Jack knows.” 

“He doesn’t, I wanted to talk to you first.” 

“I don’t know what we would tell him.” 

Aaron cradles you to his chest again, and you snuggle in as close as you can get. He presses another kiss to your hair, “I thought we decided that before I left.” 

You shrug, “I didn’t know how you would feel about . . .” 

“About our baby?” You don’t look him in the eye, but he squeezes you a little tighter. 

“My heart stopped when I heard that sound, and then disappointment filled me because I wasn’t with you, and I couldn’t get to you.” His hand moves from your back to your bump. The caress is filled with love, a promise for the child you’re carrying. “I’ve missed a lot, the baby’s already grown so much.” 

“You’re back now, though.” 

The laugh he lets out is a dry one, “I’m back, and you’ll be lucky if I let you out of my sight.” 

The next few days are a whirlwind. Aaron tells Jack about the baby alone. The two of you want to make sure he’s okay with everything that’s going on, and if he isn’t you want to make sure you take the needed steps to make sure he’s okay and doesn’t feel like his entire world is falling apart. Luckily, he’s a very excited big brother. 

You get a call twenty minutes after Aaron tells him, you can hear Jack in the background begging to go over to your place. You give the greenlight, and he heads your way. 

Jack’s eyes get comically big at the sight of your belly. And you can’t help but laugh when he presses his hands to your belly, and then rests an ear against it. You stand in the doorway like that for a good minute before Jack looks up at you and says, “I can’t hear the baby.” 

Aaron lets out a deep laugh, before bending down to Jack’s level, “You won’t be able to hear the baby bud, but in a few weeks you should be able to feel him kick?” You raise an eyebrow at the use of him, and Aaron sends you a cheeky wink. 

You usher both of them inside where you collapse on the couch and Jack cuddles up to you and starts telling you about his day. Aaron sits behind you so that you can lean back on his chest, you groan in relief when his hands find a knot in your back that has been bothering you for weeks. Jack falls asleep on the couch while you and Aaron curl up in your room.

He has you pulled close to him, while his hands and fingers trace patterns on your belly. It’s nice. 

It’s nearly two weeks after that, when he asks, “Do you want to move in?” 

You raise an eyebrow at that, “Isn’t it kind of soon?” 

What comes next is an argument that is so well prepared, you’re convinced he approached it the same way he did his cases as a prosecutor. The biggest things include having known each other for years, being in a defined and committed relationship (No matter how short), he has a spare room, and he wants to help you with the baby. 

So, two days before your senate committee hearing, after having argued out of the rest of your lease, the team shows up and helps you move into your new place.

Things get fairly domestic after that, as the three of you fall into a routine. You drop Jack off at school together, he cooks dinner while you help Jack with his homework, you dust and he vacuums. Everything is going great until you reach eight months of pregnancy and come home one day and realize you have nothing for the baby. You burst into tears, and it takes Aaron a good thirty minutes to calm you down. Jack is blissfully oblivious, and playing with leggos in his room. It’s the start of what Aaron declares your nesting phase. 

You buy a lot of stuff, and it’s the entire team who helps put it together. You rest on the couch and read with Jack for the afternoon, until he decides he wants to help. Everyone is really patient with him, and shows him how to do things. It makes you cry, and that when Jack is exposed to the term happy tears while JJ, Penny, and Em surround you with hugs. You’re an emotional mess, and you’re just a little salty about it. 

You’re grounded at the start of your ninth month, and Penny is quick to move you into the cave with her. At the very least her seats are much more comfortable. 

You go into labor while the team is home. You’re eating lunch in Aaron’s office, discussing baby names, when your water breaks. Some little part of you hopes he’ll freak out, if only to see him lose his cool for the first time ever. He doesn’t. With the same amount of calm he has on a case, he grabs the hospital go bags he’s been keeping in his office, helps you up, and starts leading you down the stairs. 

With a sense of calm you wish you had he announces, “Y/N’s water just broke. Dave can you walk her down while I get the car?” 

Dave is next to you a second later, “On it.” 

You’re surrounded by people on the ride to the hospital. Spencer is in the passenger seat, because he called shotgun, while Derek and Dave are in the back with you. You’re ready to hit them when they tell you to breathe for the umpteempth time. 

When you arrive at the hospital JJ and Penelope are there. JJ takes one look at the frustration on your face and addresses the boys, “If you tell her to breathe one more time, I’m going to give her my gun and let her tell you to breathe through the pain.” 

You watch Aaron’s lips quirk at that, he’s the one man in the car who hasn’t told you to breathe or tried to explain exactly what your body was doing at that moment. 

You curse Aaron out for the next fifteen hours. The pain . . . is bad. Aaron, to his credit, takes it all. He lets you squeeze his hand, he rubs your back, and tells you how amazing you are. At the end of it, you’re a sweaty mess, but when the doctor places the baby on your chest you become a crying mess. You look up at Aaron in awe, because you made this freaking person, and Aaron can have like five percent of the credit of it. 

He smooths your hair back from your face and places a kiss on your forehead, “You are amazing.” 

He runs a finger down the baby’s back, “And so is our son.” 

Your son has your eyes and Aaron’s hair; an entire head of messy, black hair. It takes a while for the end stages of labor to finish, and the nurses steal the baby away to wash him up. Aaron sends JJ with them, and claims his place is with you. In that moment you forgive him for putting you through labor. 

He scoots onto the bed with you, and cushions your head with his arm. His fingers play with the end of your hair as he whispers how wonderful you are. When the baby is brought back you go through your first nursing lesson. You’re less than okay with how you’re manhandled, until you eventually say something. The baby takes to nursing like a pro, and when he’s done, the nurse guides you through burping. When that’s finished she recommends skin to skin contact. 

Seeing Aaron with a baby on his bare chest does something to you, and you realize this is how you ended up with your son in the first place. You snuggle into the bed, and just watch as Aaron settles in the chair with your son on his chest, one large hand settled on his back to keep him safe. 

After a few minutes of quiet he says, “We need a name.” 

You know this, the nurses had been bugging you for a name since shortly after you had birthed him. There are a few you’ve broached; you liked Benjamin, which was Aaron’s middle name, he liked Atticus. Jasper, Theodore, and Oliver had also been thrown around. You meet in the middle and settle on Atticus Benjamin Hotchner. 

Jack is buzzing with excitement when he finally gets to meet his little brother. Aaron settles him on the bed, and allows him to study Atticus in your arms. His voice is a whisper when he asks, “Can I touch him?” 

Aaron nods, and shows him how to stroke the baby’s cheek, and place a kiss on his head. Jack gets even braver and asks, “Can I hold him?” 

You’re not one to deny the boy, so the two of you sandwich Jack in between you, and let him hold Atticus while Aaron helps support his head, and you love on Jack a little bit. That’s the moment Dave decides to take a picture. It’s a picture that is recreated when you and Aaron have your other children, and each one sits proudly on Aaron’s desk for the rest of his career at the FBI right next to an old stuffed rabbit.

[just-my-type-x]

Things Take Time - Mitch Rapp imagine

In which Mitch and y/n meet again and start working together for the CIA

It's been a minute since that Ibiza hot day where souls got lost in the infinite of the beach and washed by the waves that crashed at the shore, the waves that crashed on Mitch's bare back while holding y/n's friend, Katrina. She met Kat through Mitch one night at the bar that she used to work at and they clicked from the first moment. Y/n always made fun of how frequently Mitch visited the bar and told her to keep an eye on him or he'll become a walking bottle of Bacardi. Things were great. And then he decided to purpose to his girlfriend, finally commiting to something important and long lasting. Mitch and y/n made plans so he would give her best friend the most amazing proposal and came up with the idea of going somewhere exotic and new to all of them. So the three of them and some close friends decided to have a beautiful trip to the sunny Ibiza and enjoy the well awaited moment between Katrina and Mitch.

After Mitch's recruitment by the CIA, y/n was also called to join some missions. Irene loved what a great job she did, phisically beating all the guys on the team, earning their respect and winning every fight by numbing them to the ground until Stan stopped her. Slowly, she started working with Mitch more, having him watch her back while she spied on possible suspects and while she attacked the bad people who were stopping the team to move forward their interest.

Mitch was no fool regarding the sexiness y/n spread when she was training. ''I must be a fool to think she's not hot", he thought to himself. "I'm not thinking straight since Katrina, i should stop.". And every night, he would deny how attracted he had become to his best friend during the last couple of months. They pretty much grew up together lately. Training every day and taking courses to expend the knowledge about this whole CIA stuff does something to the lonely heart.

"Hey, princess, what's up?", y/n greets Mitch outside the safe house from Romania.

"I told you so many times not to call me like that in public, shittyhead", he laughed and she looked around the huge forest that embraced them.

"Yeah, exactly, what would a bear say to you if he heard the way i call you", she rolled her eyes and a cold breeze blew past them, both shivering

"We should get inside, so more people could hear my nicknames", Mitch offered and put an arm on y/n's back, goosebumps forming after his touch. She flinched and stepped forward so she would get away from his touch, but she knew she needed him. "Sorry, didn't mean to upset you.", Mitch let his arm fall next to his body, fist clenching slightly, jaw as well.

"It's just.. nevermind", y/n starts, but turns around and heads to the house. Mitch is quick to grab her hand and motion her to face him.

"What's wrong? You know you can tell me everything", his eyes never leave hers, memorizing every drop of emotion her sight could let out. "You're sad", he comes to a conclusion and y/n looks at the ground, taking a step back.

"I'm not sad, i'm just.. hopeless"

"Hopeless of what? Y/n the mission is almost over. We meet tomorrow with Sabini and end this masquerade and then we'll take a trip to-"

"Of you", she stops Mitch mid sentence. Y/N keeps looking at the trees surrounding them. She sits down, breaking a grass thread and playing with it as an anxiety mechanism.

"Of-of of me?", he stutters and sits down next to her. A few seconds of silence pass and y/n chooses to continue.

"I heard you crying last night. And it wasn't because you almost got killed instead of Robert. You haven't moved on, have you?", tje bitterness of her question could be tasted in the air. Another gust of cold wind passed them. Y/N hugged herself, trying to preserve some body heat. Mitch came closer, his right arm pressing on hers. She moved her arm, but he came closer and embraced her. Her head was at his chest and she grabbed him by the collar of his shirt as he would have left her there and never come back. He smells like big dreams and vanilla. And tobacco, she thought.

"You're right. I haven't.", Mitch waited for her to look at him. The sadness in her eyes could have broken any stone heart. "But i wasn't crying after Kat.", he swallowed hard, moving his sight towards the forest. "I am afraid of getting someone new. Maybe the same thing will happen to that person. It'll break me. I am afraid not breaking down the second time around."

Y/N looked in Mitch's lap, listening to his warm voice.

"I hope you realised it's you."

Frowned with confusion, she looks up, meeting his eyes. They were scanning her features and looking for a reaction.

"It's me who what?"

"The one I'm trying to protect. The one I don't wanna lose at all, especially the same as a while back. I just-"

Mitch is cut off by y/n's lips, as she's crashing them on his. He puts his hands on her cheeks and she lifts herself up to get on top of him. He slips his tongue between her parted lips as she gives him full access to her mouth and let's him dominate every part of her body. Mitch's hands travel down on her body, feeling her perfectly round breasts, lifting them slightly as he tries to cup them in his big hands. A moan slips from y/n's mouth and leans her head backwards, as his hands travel on her small back, pushing her on his body harder. Mitch's lips find the sweet spots on her neck, biting the areas that excited her the most. She had her hands in his hair, pulling at it every time he made her feel good. Y/N pushed herself up in her knees, so Mitch was now reaching his breasts while still sitting. She grabbed his face to look at her.

"You're gonna be the death of me, Rapp.", she sighs as his response is to lift up her t-shirt above her breasts, looking at her black silk bra. He started kissing her from her belly button, in between her boobs and on them, hands constantly somewhere on the body. Mitch needed to feel her in his hands.

"I need you, y/n. And i need you right here and right now.", his raspy voice was enough for her to take off her shirt and immediately proceeded to lift Mitch's.

"Hey, you too! We have a witness to interrogate!", Stan shouts and Mitch immediately covers y/n with his own body, hugging her right so Stan wouldn't see anything.

"Be right there!", she shouts and Mitch sighs angry.

"I'm so fed up with this old man", he says and hands her the t-shirt.

"Don't mind him tho, i wouldn't have wanted to have sex right here. There are cameras around.", she got up amd helped Mitch, smirking when she saw the proeminent boner in his jeans. He adjusted himself.

"Oh but you let me take off your shirt", he rolls his eyes and puts a hand on the small of her back as a sign to get moving.

"Well, I was too much in the moment", she laughed and he kissed her temple, getting inside the house.

Gif not mine

[jayflrt]

a study in demons

PAIRING ▸ yang jungwon x fem!reader

GENRES ▸ angst, established relationship

WARNINGS ▸ not centered on relationship, falling out

WORD COUNT ▸ 1476 words

YANG JUNGWON IS LOST IN A SEA OF WORDS.

He knows it was a terrible idea to go into his new series blind. Writing for an audience who only knows him by username has its perks, but with the constant pestering for updates, Jungwon’s starting to wonder if he’s even seen as a normal human with a normal life. At this point, he feels like a machine, a product of what his readers want.

One chapter a week. Promptly during the evening of every Sunday. One announcement following the publish to notify his readers that there’s an update.

Jungwon knows he’s burning himself out. He feels it in the way he listlessly stares at an empty Google Doc; the way he struggles to think of the next sentence; and the way he exhausts himself after a few paragraphs. The plot doesn’t make sense anymore, the writing feels lackluster, and the characters don’t feel as three-dimensional as he wanted them to be.

He looks through the comments for motivation, but the few negative comments are always sticking out like a sore thumb, always getting to him.

[ @user33666 ]: this book is getting boring

[ @user33666 ]: just wrap it up already we can tell you’re running out of ideas

Jungwon hates that he lets the little things get to him. They’re just pixels on a screen but he can’t help but watch each number change, each vote go up, each comment thread multiply. Each user has strings tied around his fingers, binding him to his keyboard despite Jungwon having no energy to write.

But he has to. That’s his job.

“A job?” his girlfriend asks after listening to his concerns over the phone. “It shouldn’t take up that much of your energy, Wonnie. It’s a hobby.”

“You’re right,” Jungwon replies, letting out a long, winded sigh. “Y/N, I don’t have the energy to finish this book.”

“You’re writing it for free. You don’t owe anyone anything.”

“I don’t but I want to,” Jungwon says. “I love my plot but I just can’t seem to figure it out.”

“Why don’t you sleep on it for a little?” you suggest. “Maybe it’ll come to you when you wake up.”

With college classes and writing, Jungwon doesn’t have complete control over his schedule and often pulls all-nighters to study or meet chapter deadlines. He decides to take your advice and settles on his couch, letting his exhaustion wash over him. Falling asleep these days is as easy as taking a breath, so Jungwon lets it happen.

When Jungwon wakes up, nothing’s different.

He sighs, defeated, and sits up. He doesn’t know what he expected from a nap, but he got no sudden revelation or lightning strike of inspiration. Just as Jungwon was ready to report to his girlfriend that the suggestion didn’t work, he notices something on his desk.

Two printed out sheets of a storyline sitting crisp and prim on his desk.

His storyline.

Unless someone broke into his house in the middle of his nap and placed them on his desk, there’s no way the papers could have gotten there. Jungwon is very particular about how he organizes his things and he would have noticed if he left papers lying around.

What concerns Jungwon the most, though, is the content. The storyline written on the papers is the perfect way to tie his story together and segway into the next chapter. All the descriptions and plot points are the words and ideas he had been struggling to think of.

This is impossible. There’s no way he came up with this on his own.

Jungwon clutches the papers and, after a moment of hesitation, sits down and gets to work. With the guidance of the plot sheets, it only takes him an hour and a half to finish the next chapter. He looks over his newly-finished work in awe, amazed that he can write something like this in so little time.

Yet, this only makes his stomach twist.

Reluctantly, he publishes the chapter and decides to study while he waits to see the turnout. After a few hours, Jungwon’s phone won’t stop blowing up with notifications, and his heart drops. 

For a moment, he thinks he’s done something wrong. They must be laughing at his writing. He must have made an embarrassing typo.

He opens the app with reluctance and his mouth drops.

They love it.

His notifications are filled with praise and votes. They’re all sharing the chapter across several social media platforms and gushing over the writing. Jungwon can hardly believe his eyes as the votes have doubled since the last update and the views are skyrocketing.

[ @user33666 ]: this chapter was INCREDIBLE!! i recommended it to my friends because of how good it was <3

[ @user33666 ]: THIS BOOK IS SO GOOD I WISH I COULD VOTE MULTIPLE TIMES

Somehow, Jungwon’s not satisfied.

“So you’ve realized?” a voice calls from behind him, its mocking inflection layered with overlapping tones and pitches that make it sound demonic. “You know it’s not your own work because you could never be that good?”

Jungwon doesn’t respond at first. Slowly, he turns to face the dark, shadowy figure hovering in the corner of the room. He thinks he’s gone mad for a moment and blinks repeatedly. He tries to trap the scream that threatens to escape in his throat but to no avail, jumping back and crashing back into his desk.

“Who are you?” Jungwon demands, voice raised to a shout.

“Question is, who are you?” the demon taunts. “Are you a true writer or do you rely on demons for help?”

Jungwon’s gaze darts to the papers on his desk. His voice drops to a whisper when he says, “Wait… it was you? God, I must be going crazy.”

“Do you know how to start the next chapter? Do you even know what you have to do?” the demons jeers, getting closer until all Jungwon can see is darkness. “You need me.”

The demon disappears into thin air.

Jungwon can’t breathe. He wants to cry at this point. Is he that much of a failure of a writer that he can’t do something so simple on his own? Yet, no matter how hard he ponders over it, his mind is blank. He has an overflow of support coming in, but can’t find the motivation to think of a decent plotline for the next chapter.

That night, Jungwon comes to the realization that he needs to make a deal with the devil to keep his reputation.

“I need help,” Jungwon calls out weakly as he stares up at his ceiling.

He’s not even sure if the demon would show up, but he calls for it anyway because desperation is an ugly look on Yang Jungwon. He normally consults his girlfriend but he knew you would think he was crazy if he told you there’s a demon helping him write his book.

“Came to your senses, did you?” the demon’s voice resounds from the corner of the room. “Jungwon, demons don’t work for free.”

Jungwon swallows. “What do you want from me?”

“Are you willing to do anything?”

After a minute, Jungwon responds, “Yes.”

It’s been six months.

The final chapter.

Jungwon has everything he wants: a contract to publish his series in print, an offer to turn them into a TV series, and hundreds and thousands of fans reading his work. He never expected to blow up this big, but he sacrificed far too much to get to where he is now.

Strangely, he feels worse than when he had nothing.

At least when his book fell short, he had you. You were there to fill the empty gaps that lingered, to bring him happiness he hadn’t felt with anyone else. You were there to console him when life was getting too hard, and the world was caving in on him. You were there to hold him when he needed you most.

And now, because of one stupid, impulsive decision, the demon told him to get rid of you and Jungwon obeyed.

It isn’t even just you. Jungwon’s entire social support circle fell apart. He barely speaks to anyone since the binding deal he made, and while the internet validation is nice, he just feels hollow.

He misses you.

Usually, when Jungwon uploads the last chapter of a book, there’s a giddy rush of excitement, a satisfying feeling of completeness. This time around, Jungwon is hit with a pang of sorrow. As expected, the positive reviews come flooding in instantly and Jungwon is so immersed that he checks each and every comment.

“Is this worth it?” Jungwon mutters under his breath.

“You tell me,” the demon responds.

This time, when Jungwon turns to face the demon, he sees himself.

And Jungwon realizes who the demon truly is.

A Study in Demons: Self-Doubt

[matwith1t]

A/N: Back with some fluff!! Straight fluff. No angst nonsense. Any & all feedback is appreciated! Words of affirmation is my love language so 🔪 please🔪 Also, my requests are open 🥳 I’m working on one now, so if you have any ideas, my inbox is open!! I hope you’re all having a wonderful morning/afternoon/night!! 🤩

Summary: Mat tries to guess your favorite color, and even though he sounds absolutely positive with his answer, he’s wrong. But you don’t have the heart to tell him, so he spends your relationship knowing your wrong favorite color.

MASTERLIST | LET’S CHAT 🥂 | Mat Barzal x Reader

Warnings: two swear words, slight drinking // WC: 4K // Fluff

A slight spring breeze whistling through the air caused goosebumps to form on your legs. Everything was always a little better in the springtime; the weather started to warm up, parks began to become full of life again, and you were able to sit outside without freezing off your toes. Although there was still a crispness in the air––the last remnants of winter hanging on by a thread––the sun shined down, and you could peacefully sit outside.

On the balcony of Mat’s apartment, the two of you sat on the cushioned couch together. With your head in his lap, you had a book raised above your head, engrossed with the words on the page. And Mat, he had an arm lazily draped over your collar bones as his other hand scrolled on his phone. You thought he was engrossed with whatever game he played, but with his semi-serious tone of voice behind his question, you could tell he got lost in his head.

“What’s your favorite color?”

You dogeared the page you were on, closed the book softly, and placed it on the ground. You flicked your eyes up to see Mat already staring down at you, “My favorite color?”

Mat nodded his head, “We’ve been going out for a few months, but I was thinking about you and I––I don’t think I know it.”

A smirk slowly grew on your face as you teased him, “You were thinking about me?”

With a smile on his own face, he rolled his eyes at you, and with the arm he had draped across your upper chest, he gave your shoulder a squeeze, “I was,” he nonchalantly shrugged his shoulders, “So, what is it?”

The feeling of your stomach flipping at his confession made you feel anything but nonchalant. At his words, your stomach swarmed with an amount of tingles that you only felt when you were with him; the air smelled a little sweeter, his touch felt a little warmer, and you felt yourself fall a little more for him. Because even though you were physically with him in this moment, he was also consumed with the thought of you.

“What do you think my favorite color is?” Your tone was light and airy, excited to hear his answer.

Mat’s chest expanded as he took in a deep breath and then let it out through his nose. He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, eyebrows furrowed in concentration, as he stared straight ahead. When his eyebrows rose, it was like you could see the light bulb go off in his head.

He looked down at you, the reflection of the sun in his eyes made them shine bright, “Blue.”

A laugh escaped your lips, and his smile grew, “And why do you think that?”

“Because you always steal this sweatshirt,” he tugged on the strings of his blue Islanders sweatshirt that you currently wore, “You always talk about how nice the sky looks, always get excited whenever you see one of those blue butterflies.” His shy smile grew more timid as he listed reasons why he thought blue was your favorite color, “And you always write with a blue pen.”

Blue. He said it so confidently. And he listed so many reasons that you didn’t even notice about yourself as to why he thought blue was your favorite color. The warmth you felt whenever you were around intensified as you sat in silence.

“So?” Mat’s soft voice brought you out of your head.

He was so sure of his answer that you didn’t have the heart to tell him that your favorite color was not blue.

“You guessed it,” you said with a nod of your head. The smug smirk on his face widened as he sunk a bit further down the couch and caused you to chuckle, “What?”

Again, Mat only shrugged his shoulders, “I’m always right.”

A laugh that caused you to screw your eyes tight and clutch a hand to your stomach echoed off the city buildings. When you opened your eyes, you saw Mat adoringly gaze down at you like he thought he was the luckiest person on the planet. You reached an arm down to grab your book, but before you could resume reading, Mat lowered his head and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“You’re cute,” he whispered.

With your book long forgotten, you raised your hand up to your shoulder––to where Mat’s hand lazily drew circles––and laced your fingers between his. He gave your hand a squeeze and a smile took over your face as nuzzled against the soft fabric of the sweatshirt he was wearing. And in record time, your eyes shut and you fell asleep.

–––

A week after Mat guessing your favorite color, he showed up at your apartment.

It was mid-afternoon on a Saturday, and you were up to your elbows in chores you had been putting off. So you decided that today was the day to get them done. A fairly loud knock on the door cut over the music playing through your headphones. While you would have answered it, your hands were a bit soapy from doing the dishes, so you asked your roommate if they could get it.

You were back to listening to music and washing the dishes, but then your roommate walked into the kitchen with a wide smile on their face, “It’s for you.”

With your eyebrows scrunched in confusion, you nodded your head. After washing the soap off from your arms, and drying your hands, you scrolled through your phone to make sure you didn’t accidentally miss on plans with a friend. But there was nothing.

When you reached the front door, you smiled when you saw Mat waiting.

Without a greeting, he raised his hand that held a bouquet of blue flowers that made your heart melt. There were blue peonies, blue hydrangeas, blue tulips, and a few other blue flowers that looked like they were just thrown into a bouquet.

He looked shy with his free hand curled in a fist, stiff at his side, as his index finger lightly picked at the skin by his thumb. He looked unsure of himself––which was uncommon for him––but his rosy cheeks and timid smile made you think that he had never shown up at a person’s house with flowers before.

“Mat,” you said his name slowly; the brown paper they were wrapped in crinkled under your hand as you carefully took the flowers from him, “These are…” You glanced up at him and he still looked nervous as ever as you brought the flowers up to smell, “Amazing, thank you.”

While the presentation of the flowers was less than ideal, that didn’t matter in the slightest. Because in a matter of a few weeks, the flowers would be dead. But the memory––the giddiness you felt––of Mat showing up out of the blue with flowers would last for a lifetime.

He let out a shaky breath, “They’re––They’re blue.”

A small laugh escaped your lips as you waved him further into your place. “That they are,” you chuckled as you went into your kitchen and opened up a few cabinets for a vase. Once you found one that would fit the flowers, you filled it up with water, “They’re really pretty, Mat.”

It looked like he had just come straight from a workout; athletic shorts, sneakers, and a dry fit t-shirt. And normally after workouts, he was almost as confident in himself after scoring a goal. But he still looked shy.

“I was walking down the street when I saw them,” his voice held a bit more strength to it, “They’re your favorite color.”

You had just finished re-arranging the flowers into the vase to have them all fit when he said his last sentence. They’re your favorite color. For a moment, you forgot that you fabricated the teeny tiny lie about your favorite color. But it made sense as to why he sounded so confident about that sentence than all the other words he spoke.

Because he truly believed that he knew your favorite color.

A swarm of butterflies erupted in your stomach as you gazed at him with a smile. With the flowers safely in their vase, you walked over to Mat, the smile slowly growing on your face with each step. As if he knew what your next move was, he opened his arms for you, and you wrapped your arms around his waist in an embrace.

While Mat still smelled faintly of sweat, you still took a deep breath of him in, “Yeah,” you mumbled with your face pressed up against his chest. He gently rubbed his palm and fingertips along your back, “My favorite color.”

–––

Summer came along and with Mat not having nearly as many hockey commitments, you were able to soak up time with him like you soaked up the sun.

While the sport wasn’t taking up his time, Mat continued to spend time with his teammates that stayed in New York for the off season. He received a pool party invitation from a teammate and immediately called you up, “It’s an Islanders Island pool party,” he sounded so excited. But you told him it was a terrible play on the name of Gilligan's Island for a pool party.

But you agreed to go with him, and that’s how you found yourself in the backyard of someone’s house with a pool.

And it really was an Islanders Island pool party. The whole house was decked out in traditional Islanders colors, everyone was required to wear an Islanders color, the food and drinks provided could all be found at the arena, there were custom Islanders balloons hung on fences and trees…It seemed as if this was a team bonding experience to get the players excited for the upcoming season.

You were sitting on the ledge of the pool, legs dangling in the water, as you caught up with Tito’s girlfriend. The two of you were laughing until you heard Tito call out “Hey! No cheating!” Both of you paused your conversation to turn your head toward the commotion. And like you guessed, Mat was doing anything in his power to win at a game of chicken.

Mat and Tito were standing in the water, as they both held up two kids on their shoulders, who wrestled each other until the other made a splash in the water. Mat’s infectious laughter––head slightly tilted back, eyes and nose wrinkling, with an open mouth––caused a smile to light up your face.

“You can’t go for my ankles,” Tito sneered at Mat, who again, laughed in his face.

The two teams continued to fight, with Mat trying to hook one of his legs around Tito’s ankles to cause him to fall. The chicken fight was quite captivating, but before you knew it, right as Mat tried to hook his leg around Tito’s ankle again, he kicked Mat’s thigh in retaliation.

“Cheater––”

But a loud splash happened before Mat could finish yelling at his best friend. The kid who was on Mat’s shoulder swam to the surface, and Mat popped up with a gasp. As Tito and the kid who was on his shoulders celebrated with high-fives, Mat splashed them with water. And with a pout on his face, he walked over to the ledge you sat on.

He walked slowly over to you as he pushed his wet hair back from his forehead. You predicted his movements right, because right as you slightly opened up your legs, Mat came to stand right between them. He rested his elbows on your knees and leaned the side of his face on his arm as he looked up at you.

Knowing how much he hated losing, you smiled sympathetically down at him and ran a hand through his hair, “Cheaters never win.”

Mat’s head popped up just as fast as his jaw dropped, “I didn’t––”

“You went for my ankles,” Tito said from behind as he splashed Mat. You flinched as some of the water sprayed up on you.

“You kicked my thigh!” Mat turned to look at his best friend who pushed himself up from the pool to sit next to his girlfriend. He then turned to look at you with an even bigger pout, “I thought you were on my team.”

A small laugh escaped your lips, “I’m always on your team,” Mat looked like he was going to interject about how that wasn’t the case with your previous comment, but you spoke before him, “When you don’t cheat.”

“Ha,” Tito gloated.

Mat glared at Tito, but as if their mini-rivalry and cheating scandal didn’t happen, Tito asked if Mat wanted to get some food. And with a shrug and a nod of his head, Mat lifted himself from out of the pool. He sat on the ledge next to you for a brief second, “Want anything?”

You thought for a moment, tilting your head back and forth as you kicked your feet around in the water, “A cookie.” You smiled up at Mat.

He reciprocated your smile before leaning in and capturing your lips in a short, chaste kiss, “A cookie it is.”

Mat and Tito walked away, lightly shoving each other’s shoulders, and you picked up conversation with Tito’s girlfriend. Fifteen or so minutes had passed before you saw Mat’s blue swim trunks in your peripheral vision sit next to you. He handed you a small blue paper plate with a blue frosted cookie.

“Thanks,” you smiled in appreciation. You were about to take a bite before Tito scoffed.

“He damn near killed me to get that cookie for you,” Tito’s tone of voice was joking, but your eyes widened as you turned your head to see Mat ducking his chin into his chest, face turning red. “I told him that there were other cookies at the table, but he said he needed to get the blue cookie for you.”

Blue.

Mat avoided eye contact with the group and shrugged his shoulders, “It’s your favorite color,” he softly said only for you to hear, as he kicked up some water with his toes, “It was the last one. I needed to get it.”

Favorite color.

Lightly, you knocked your shoulder against his. With his face still red, Mat looked up at you with a small smile. You pressed a kiss to kiss cheek, “Thank you,” you whispered.

Mat shrugged his shoulders, downplaying his actions as if he didn’t do everything in his power to make sure you got your favorite color. The appreciation you felt for him went beyond anything you could verbalize, so you offered him a bite of your cookie.

Maybe blue could become your favorite color.

–––

Mat had spent the past few December’s in New York, not being able to get as much time as he wanted to spend the holiday season with his family…but this year he had you.

Dressed warmly in scarves and winter coats, you had your mitten clad hands wrapped around Mat’s arm as you walked down the street to Tito’s place in the city. The air was brisk, and the wind felt like icicles hitting your skin, but with your face pressed firmly into Mat’s side, the cold air didn’t feel that bad.

The party was small, a few bottles of wine were opened and shared with one another. The night was full of laughs, Mat whispering softly in your ear, and gentle touches from him that caused an electric jolt in your body whenever he brushed his fingertips on your lower back. You met some new people, caught up with people you already knew, but when the night dwindled down to just you, Mat, Tito, his girlfriend, and another couple…That’s when the fun started.

Tito had taken out board games to play…But added a few drinking rules to them. And by the end of the second game of a non-sober Candy Land, everyone started to feel a slight buzz. And that’s when Tito’s girlfriend had the idea to play a couple’s game…A how well do the couple’s know each other game.

Tito gathered up spare paper and pens from around his place and handed them out to everyone. And his girlfriend tore up paper into rectangles and wrote questions on them to make a deck of cards. The rules of the game: a couple picks up a card from the deck and they have fifteen seconds to write down on their paper––without looking at their significant other’s paper––matching answers.

If you got an answer wrong, you took a drink. If you got the answer right, you kept the card. And whoever ended up with the most cards at the end was deemed the winner.

The questions were easy; Where did you first meet, What is your boyfriend’s favorite dessert, What is your girlfriend’s pet peeve, Where was your first kiss…Very simple. But there were some more challenging questions; What is your girlfriend’s shoe size, What is your boyfriend’s least favorite candy, What was the first picture you took as a couple…

You and Mat were on a roll, only having to take a sip of your drink three times. Tito and his girlfriend were only a few cards behind you. And the other couple tapped out after they had to take a sip of their drink after every other card they pulled.

“Tie game…” Tito deviously smirked across the table at you and Mat, “One card left.”

“So if Mat and I don’t get the question right,” You looked between the feuding best friends, both of them wanting desperately to win, “do you two have a chance to steal?”

“That seems fair,” Tito’s girlfriend nodded at you as she took a sip of her wine.

“They won’t need to steal it,” Mat glared at Tito, the competitiveness coming out of both of them in their glare off, “Because we’re going to win.”

Tito continued to taunt Mat, “Wanna bet?”

“Remember that you two do play on the same hockey team,” you placed a hand on Mat’s shoulder as you raised your eyebrows at Tito.

“That’s irrelevant right now,” Tito narrowed his eyes more on Mat.

Tito’s girlfriend chimed in, “And remember that you two are best friends––”

“Not important,” Mat flared his nostrils.

You and Tito’s girlfriend looked at each other, helpless gazes as you both sat next to your bickering boyfriends. With a shrug of her shoulders, Tito’s girlfriend rolled her eyes at their antics and took a rather large sip of her wine. You followed suit.

With a deep sigh, you had a hand placed on the card ready to flip it over when you were given the go ahead. When the timer was set, and you said ‘ready,’ Tito started the fifteen seconds when you flipped over the card.

What is your girlfriend’s favorite color?

Mat tipped his head back, eyebrows raised high, and let out a loud laugh. Immediately he wrote his answer down with a smug look, “We have this in the bag.”

With a roll of your eyes, you wrote down your favorite color on your piece of paper. And when the timer chimed at the end of fifteen seconds, Mat looked too proud of himself as he drummed his fingers on the back of the notebook where he had his answer written.

“On three, flip your notebooks,” Tito said with a disappointed voice, upset that you and Mat had gotten possibly the easiest question in the whole game.

When the magic number three was said, you and Mat turned your notebooks around. At the answers written on your papers, both Tito and his girlfriend’s jaws dropped wide open. Their faces beamed with smiles as they high-fived each other excitedly.

“We can steal!”

Mat, confused at their celebratory high-fives, scoffed, “What are you––”

“You don’t have the same answers!” Tito looked as if he was about ready to jump up from his seat on the floor as he got ready to write down the answer to his girlfriend’s favorite color.

Mat’s jaw dropped as you heard a silent gasp of shock from him, “That can’t be right––”

“You wrote blue,” Tito smirked victoriously as his eyes shifted to you, “She did not.”

Blue.

Your jaw dropped just as Mat took the notebook from your hands, not believing what his best friend said. You saw his eyes scan repeatedly over the paper that had your handwriting; eyebrows rising high in disbelief as he continued to read a color that was not blue.

Slowly, he lowered the notebook and connected his dismal eyes with your shocked ones that were already locked in on him. With more than enough glasses of wine in your system, you forgot that Mat believed that blue was your favorite because of that one spring afternoon.

Mat’s voice was quiet, low-pitched so only you could hear him, “Your favorite color isn’t blue?”

“I––” Your voice got caught in your throat, knowing that you had to truthfully answer him this time, but with his pitiful eyes gazing into yours, you felt your heart crack because for months he was so sure that your favorite color was blue, “Not really…” your voice trailed off at the end.

Mat let out a small chuckle, a light-hearted smile tugging the corners of his lips upward, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

You shrugged your shoulders, looking down into your wine glass, “When you said the reasons why you thought blue was my favorite color,” you looked up at him with a small smile, the fond memory replaying in your mind, “You looked so happy, I didn’t want to say you were wrong.”

Mat snickered as he shook his head at your reasoning. He threw an arm around your shoulder, and you easily fell into his chest as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head, “So you didn’t want to hurt my feelings? Over a color?”

“I mean––”

“So all this time you thought blue was her favorite color?” Tito laughed as he took a sip of his drink. “Is that why you’ve only worn blue suits before games this season?” Mat’s cheeks turned red as he flipped off his friend. But Tito kept provoking him, “And the pool party over the summer––You pushed me down to the grass to get a blue cookie––”

“Shut up,” Mat playfully glared at Tito.

But like any best friend, Tito continued to poke fun at Mat, “Or, oh––that time we saw a blue––”

And like any best friend on the opposite end of some light hearted heckling, Mat got up from his spot on the floor and tackled Tito before he could finish his sentence. While the two of them wrestled on the ground, Tito’s girlfriend came and sat beside you.

Her eyes were on both of your boyfriend’s as they continued to roll around. She let out a chuckle, “Blue is a pretty nice color.”

And with your eyes trained on Mat, you looked more closely at his outfit for tonight. He wore blue jeans, a navy blue sweater, and thinking back to your walk in the beginning of the night…the jacket he wore was also blue. Although it came a few moments to late, it was the details at which he paid attention––Like how he noticed you always stole his blue sweatshirt, complimented the blue sky, got excited when you saw a blue butterfly, or how you only wrote with a blue pen––that solidified you changing your favorite color.

“Yeah,” you let out a laugh as Mat put Tito in a headlock, and you bit the inside of your cheek to contain your growing smile, “It’s growing on me.”