#i listen to some. not a ton. but i know what i like

[mariasont]

My Boss Won't Be Happy About This - A.H

a/n: back to bimbo brain rot!!!! inspired by the first season that one episode (you know the one) where hotch is all macho man with elle in jamaica

masterlist

₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

pairings: aaron hotchner x bimbo!assistant!reader

summary: you’re wrongfully arrested and hotch is not happy about it

warnings: creepy officer, inaccuracies of how law enforcement works, hotch being sexy

wc: 1.3k

"Listen I'm not the type of girl to tell someone how to do their job, but I just don't think you're doing it right."

You were speaking to an empty room, or at least, you were speaking to the mirror in front of you. It's the kind of mirror you had seen in countless interrogation scenes, the kind you usually image Hotch standing behind. You let your gaze linger, wondering if eyes are studying you from the other side, listening to your monologue.

"Well, that, and I also just don't think it's very nice." Your brand spanking new heels were tapping against the dirty floor. 

You weren't happy about that. You weren't happy about any of this. Your feet ache, but the fear of the germs lurking on the floor paralyzes any thoughts of relief by removing your shoes.

"And hey, shouldn't I get a phone call? That's a rule, I think," you mumble, lips turning downward in an unusual frown. It seems like the right time for it. "My boss is not going to take this well. I mean, he's got this look, you know? The kind that makes you want to apologize for things you didn't even do."

You conjured up his daunting expression and released a jittery laugh, all while striving to disregard the biting cold blasting from the AC vent, which seemed determine to freeze you into place. 

You were seriously out of your element, not just in surroundings but in dress--so form-fitting it left very little to the imagination. It seemed to be a good idea for a date. That was before you realized said date would be a complete disaster. Now, it felt like a trap. It had been a spectacle for a man unworthy of the effort, and as you sat in this rigid chair, you found yourself tugging at the hem every other moment, a futile attempt to preserve some semblance of modesty.

"So, when he hears about this little error... Well, let's just say I wouldn't want to be in your shoes." Six hours had passed in this dreary space, and you could feel your sanity fraying at the edges. You muttered, half to yourself, "Not that they're as cute as mine, but you get the point."

The door hinge's creak made you sit bolt upright, a silent supplication for Hotch's rescue echoing through your mind. But today, it seemed, the gods were indifferent. The officer who had arrested you stepped in.

"Having fun talking to yourself?"

You flashed your sweetest smile. "Oh, tons! But I'd have much more fun if you'd uncuff me."

He said nothing, folding his arms over his chest as he dragged his gaze up and down your body in a way that made your skin prickle in discomfort. You attempted to dispel the creeping dread, but it stubbornly lingered.

You did what you could to cover up, despite the awkward angle of your arms. "Listen, this is all just a big mistake. I work for the FBI," you insisted, though it was clear the officer's attention was fixated on your tits rather than your words. "Well, I mean, I'm an assistant for the unit chief of the BAU unit. You've heard of Aaron Hotchner, haven't you?"

The officer's mouth closed without a word, as the door was thrust open yet again, and this time, your heart leapt in recognition. Your knight in shining armor with a lethal expression.

His eyes instantly zeroed in on the officer with a look that could curdle blood, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of relief that you weren't the object of his anger. He approached you wordlessly, his every motion precise and determined.

He carefully shed his jacket, a gesture he seldom made, and draped it across your shoulders. The fleeting caress of his hand against your skin was enough to make you lean into his touch. You let out a breath that you had been unconsciously holding back. 

You watched as Hotch turned, his voice a low, steady force, his words carefully chosen and tinged with an unsettling peace. "Officer," he began, the title spoken almost as warning. "I believe there has been a grave misunderstanding. This woman is not only an esteemed member of the FBI, but she is also under my direct supervision."

He stepped closer, encroaching on the officer's personal space. You watched, almost in slow motion, as the officer's expression morphed into one of sheer terror, his earlier confidence dissolving like sugar in hot tea.

"Six hours," he continued, his voice never rising yet somehow it took up all the space in the confined room. "Six hours of unwarranted detention, without due process. I expect her immediate release. And make no mistake, this lapse in judgment will have its ramifications."

The officer was mute, his fingers clumsily unlocking the handcuffs, his movements hurried, his hands trembling. A twinge of pity flickered within you, but it was quickly overshadowed by the memory of considering the table as a makeshift blanket.

The moment the metal clicked open; you wasted no time. You flung your arms around Hotch, the pent relief and biting chill of the past few hours pouring out of you. You were desperate for warmth, specifically his warmth.

He stiffened, caught off guard by your actions. You feel the anger radiating through him, practically pulsing through his skin. As you clung to him, you felt the draft on your legs as your dress slid up, and without missing a beat Hotch's hand discreetly adjusted the fabric, all while keeping his eyes locked on the officer, a silent warning in his gaze.

Once he was certain you were decently covered, he allowed himself to draw him into his arms. One arm secured around your waist, the other weaving through your hair. You were cold. It renewed another tide of rage through his bloodstream.

With the officer's departure, the room's oppressive atmosphere lightened a touch, leaving you still latched onto your boss.

"Oh, sir, you wouldn't believe it," you started, his hands tracing up your spine and sparking a trail of goosebumps that had nothing to do with the chill. "They kept asking me about a heist, as if I'd know anything about that! And then they show me this picture, and I mean, sure, she had my hair, but that's about it."

You rambled on, and he let you, the absurdity of the situation pouring out in a stream of consciousness. Hotch's hold on you tightened. You could sense the coiled tension in him, a tempest of anger held a bay.

"And the room, it was so cold! I mean, I'm sure you can tell. My teeth were chattering, and all I could think of was how I'd rather be filing your paperwork or listening to Reid's factoids about the quantum mechanics of coffee beans."

You felt Hotch's breath on your hair as he let out a sigh. 

"I'm just glad you're here now," you whispered, finally allowing yourself to relax in his embrace.

Hotch gave a curt nod, his jaw set. He was itching to confront the officer, to unleash a tirade not meant for your ears. But he was well aware of how much you needed him right now, and that trumped everything in his book.

Hotch took a moment to compose himself before speaking. "This isn't just incompetence; it's negligence. I will have this place reevaluated for its standards, or lack thereof."

You took a step back, hands still resting on his arms, and he maintained his grip on your waist. "I bet this is the last time you'll let me go on a date without a full background check on the guy, huh, sir?"

Hotch's hold on your waist firmed just a fraction. "Maybe it's the last time I let you go on a date, period."

He was only half-joking.

"Not even with you?" You tilted your head to meet his gaze, drawing his jacket closer around you.

Hotch just simply gives you that look, the one that says a thousand words without a sound. He's telling you to tread lightly.

"Alright, I'll be good," you giggle, the tension easing from your shoulders. "Can you take me home now, please?"

He nods, "Yeah, let's get you home."

And then he leads you out, thinking to himself that the next person to take you out will be him, but that's for him to know and you to find out later.

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna

[monster-disaster]

Me again from the male monster and human woman ask about the monster thinking he’s going to be eaten after sex.

I had a few follow up thoughts…

Scenario #1-

Male monster is worried about his human wife not having enough nourishment during pregnancy because she did not eat him. So monster brings home tons of food to try to get her to eat more. Some foods are quite “questionable.”

Scenario #2-

Male monster’s female relatives try to kill him *comedically* because they think he’s being a horrible father/spouse for not dying for his future children/wife. The female monsters then proceed to ask the human woman how’d she’d like him prepared to eat. (Baked, boiled, roasted, fried, etc.)

The female monster relatives had yet to be informed that humans don’t kill/eat their spouses. So it’s tragically funny when the male monster introduces human woman to his large female family, as you’ve added on to.

Gods, I still love this!

Scenario #1 And imagine the poor monster's guilt every time his wife has morning sickness during pregnancy. He thinks she has a difficult pregnancy because she didn't eat him. Just one look at his husband, and she knows what's going on in his mind. Even the thought makes him nauseous. "I won't eat you!" "What about an arm?" The monster asks. He could definitely live with minus one arm. It wouldn't be a problem. Every time he says things like this his wife feels like she is in a weird horror movie. "Just stop it!" And the next second, she is bending over the toilet again.

Scenario #2 His female relatives are a bit disappointed when they see that he is still alive, but his young male cousins! He becomes a hero in their eyes! They look at him with hope shining in their eyes. "You are still alive." The monster grins, proud. "I am!" His older female cousin just grimaces. "But why?"

Scenario #3 Imagine our monster boasting about not being eaten after sex! And he tells it to anyone who listens! It's definitely a horrifying and weird experience for everyone but hey, he doesn't care, he is still alive!

And one more scenario When he meets Reader's family for the first time and sees her male relatives with their family and kids. So it's true! She really won't eat him! He grew up with females, and watching her girlfriend's male relatives fitting in the family opens a whole new world for him.

[dollypopup]

Today I'm thinking about how so much of Colin's narrative speaks to the neurodivergent experience of having to pretend to be someone else as a survival mechanism. Of the pressure in masking because your real, authentic self is rejected or ignored: too weird, too quiet, too loud, too gullible, too soft-heart, too. . .everything. Too anything. And at the same time, not enough.

Colin gets excited about his travels, about his hyperfixations, talks and talks and talks about them, and no one cares. So, Colin shuts up. Colin writes letter after letter, and gets no reply. So, Colin writes in a journal just for himself. Colin tries and tries to make his family proud, tries to marry, tries courting properly, and it blows up in his face. So, Colin chooses not to date, to become a spectator. Colin is yelled at for trying to invest, so he no longer asks or talks about money, doesn't try to rock the boat in his city. Who Colin is, what he wants, ceases to matter, the fabric of him folded smaller and smaller- instead he focuses on the shell. Builds it in image of his older brothers, of the men around him. Mirrors them.

Anthony says he should have taken Colin to brothels, that he's a fool for trying to marry and his engagement blows up- Colin thus goes to brothels. Colin hops from city to city, trying on new personas like outfits, fine tuning each one. Is this it? Will this be what finally makes them accept me? Colin's appeal to the women of the ton is that he does not talk about himself- but about them. That they're wearing beautiful dresses, that surely they'll find husbands. Separating himself from them- cannot tell them of his travels, that he's not the brave one, it was everyone working together to help with the balloon.

Deflect. Never centered. Colin exists on the outskirts as Pen does, he's just hypervisible for his exterior, and invisible otherwise. His charm is that he pleases those around him. His wounds are that the truest version of him cannot accomplish that. Thus, he becomes hyperaware of what his impact is, first to apologize and last to be forgiven. Living for the approval of others is a trap. He knows. He's fallen into it, a bear claw around his ankles.

He feels like the only way he's worthwhile is if he's providing something for someone. An apology, or comfort, or ease, compliments or winks, a laugh or a distraction, good looks or a fantasy. Providing a happy life for Pen by stepping out of the way, his own needs secondary. It's being there for his mum for an escort or a soft heart to heart. It's taking Anthony's disappointment in him and being indulgent to Eloise's insults. It's giving Benedict his special tea and saying hardly anything about why he bought it in the first place. Bringing gifts to family members who did not write back to him as he wandered the world, alone. It's sticking his neck out for Penelope with Jack, it's providing a dance or a rescue or a good time, checking on Marina to make sure she's alive and okay, listening to Phillip. Colin isn't at all comfortable being himself, the himself that is messy, so he covers it in the himself that is useful.

But what he does, what he provides other people, is not his actual worth. He thinks he's being altruistic by stepping aside and languishing in his feelings for Pen, believing she'll be happier in the future with Debling, waiting and waiting and waiting, until that candle burns out and he's at the 11th hour- and when he snaps and goes after her, when he cuts into her dance, when he runs for her in that carriage, he makes a choice for himself that he thinks, in some way, is selfish.

But it isn't. It's what she wants, too. And there's something beautiful in the fact that with Penelope, his being real, what he thinks is so difficult and unwanted, is actually giving her what she has desired all along. They both find fulfillment and contentment in his unmasking. Penelope never wanted the shell. She saw what was beneath it. She loves what's beneath it.

And I think there's something. . .healing, in that narrative. That us ND peeps who mask as a means of fitting in- that will never bring us happiness. Not really. That it didn't bring Colin happiness.

His arc is realizing that he should be his true, authentic self, and that love will bloom from it. And it does.

I don't know. I think I can learn something from that. I think I'm going to carry that with me for a while.

[loonylesbian]

ok i am very much so not a writer, or at least not creatively. but i had this idea and i couldn’t get it out of my head so i decided to write it out. it ended up being 6.1k words so feel free to not finish it cause i’m sure it’s not good. however if you do read the entire thing i hope you like it and don’t clown on me too hard. long story short either you’re welcome for this or i’m sorry for this. there is no inbetween

naked in manhattan // k. martin

10 years ago

“Kate can you believe it! We’re starting high school!!!” you scream, hugging your best friend on the last day of summer. If you were being totally honest, you were nervous never being good at making friends, always relying on Kate for that. Her being so outgoing and friendly, it’s not that you weren’t nice, you really were, if anyone asked Kate would say that you’re the sweetest person she’s ever met, you were just shy. Talking to just about anyone made you nervous, in fact, you had a short list of people who didn’t make you nervous.

“I know! It’s gonna be great, I’m gonna do my best in basketball and volleyball, and you, my little genius, are gonna be the best in every class, and make tons of new friends,” she reassured you as if she could feel the nerves radiating off of you in waves. You were grateful for that, she had always been able to know exactly what you were feeling and how to help, even if you didn’t. It was one of your favorite things about her, sure there were too many things you loved about her to count, but that was one of your absolute favorites.

“I promise I’m gonna do my best to make it to each and every single game of yours,” you told her holding up your pinky while looking up at her, she giggled and interlocked her pinky with yours in a pinky promise, something you have insisted on doing since you met. You swore that it was more real than a regular promise, and made it to where the universe let the promise happen, not just the people involved.

“Well if it’s a pinky promise, I know you're never gonna miss a game,” she replied with a smile reserved just for you.

7 years ago

So far your promise had held, not without some struggle, but you had still attended every game Kate had for both sports she played, and just about every other game she just wanted to watch. There were a few games where you were late because of your job, studying, or other things that had gotten in the way, and the two times where you sat as far away from everyone else as humanly possible because you didn’t want to get them sick but also didn’t want to miss Kate’s game, but for the most part you sat right at the front to cheer on your best friend.

After the game tonight you guys were gonna have a sleepover as tradition for Friday night games, whether it resulted in a win or a loss. Either way, you usually ended up in her arms bringing her comfort, whether that be her knowing that she deserves it because she played well and won to bring her down from that high or wishing she had done things differently to change that loss and you reassuring her that it wasn’t all her fault, because as far as your were concerned basketball was a team sport and a loss couldn’t hang solely on one person's shoulders. After all, you were her number one supporter, never failing to let her know how proud of her you are and how much you love her no matter how she feels. You made everything feel okay for her, but it was the least you could do, afterall she did that and more for you.

when i sing that lana song it makes you cry

On the drive back to her house listening to the radio, she couldn’t help but look at you as much as she could without crashing the car. She couldn't help but feeling like she was was really listening to the song for the first time as you were singing along to “Young and Beautiful” by Lana Del Ray. She didn’t quite know what it was but when she looked at you and listened to you singing she couldn't help but feel her heart race and her body flush, she swore she could listen to you forever. Had someone told her in that moment she would never get to hear you sing like that, she would swear she’d cry And if anyone asked, she would tell them she liked girls, it wasn’t like it was a secret, and she’s had crushes before, she knows what it feels like. But she never thought she would have a crush on you, purely because you were her best friend, she couldn’t do that, it could ruin your friendship. That wasn't something she was willing, or at least wanted, to risk. A friendship that you've had since kindergarten, although now that she thought about it, it was basically a lesbian right of passage to fall in love with your best friend and-

mean girls we watch every night, and we both have a crush on regina george

“So wanna watch Mean Girls?” you ask abruptly interrupting her thoughts. Truth be told she’s glad that you did, it was probably best that she didn’t dwell on those thoughts for too long. Little did she know she wasn’t the only one who wasn’t having completely friendly thoughts about the other. She was just the only one who wasn’t in total denial about liking girls in the first place.

“Obviously. As if we would watch anything else first,” she replies with a scoff as if it were crazy for you to even ask. Although, to be fair it was crazy of you to ask because that was the first movie you watched anytime you had a sleepover, and it had been that way for years.

“Sorry. Sorry. I forgot you had a crush on Regina George,” you said with a small chuckle, brushing off the twinge of pain you felt at the idea of Kate having a crush on anyone else, even if it was a fictional character from a movie. Because why would you be sad or jealous about that? She was just your best friend, right?

Kate flushed even more red at this comment if that were possible with the combination of the game she had just played and watching you. Even though it was chilly outside and in the car, in that moment it felt like it was 100°. She wasn’t sure if it was nerves or joy that was causing her to feel that way, but she did. In that moment life was perfect, the chill in the air, the rain falling around the car they sat in, the now soft music coming from the speakers, and most importantly you. She wished she could stay in that moment forever, just taking you in, stuck in that perfect moment forever. She let out a slightly nervous chuckle, lightly biting her lip, before she replied, not wanting to break the peace she felt.

“Okay, okay, don’t act like you don’t have a crush on her too. I know you have a thing for blondes.” She finally lets out trying to wave you off and ignore her pounding heartbeat, all while trying to steal another glance at you. What she doesn’t notice, however, is your face flushing or your fists clenching when she says that as if she uncovered a deep dark secret, that you hadn’t told anybody. And to be fair that’s exactly how you felt, you did have a crush on this mean girl and you did have a thing for blondes, but you hadn’t quite come to terms with that yourself, let alone talk to anybody about it. So if anyone asked, the blondes you had a thing for were blonde guys, but you were hoping nobody would ask. Even if that person was Kate, your best friend.

And you didn’t notice her grip on the steering wheel tighten a little bit, waiting for a response. Hoping you would do or say anything to acknowledge what she had said, telling her she was right or wrong, waving her off altogether, laughing. She waited for any acknowledgment of what she had said for the rest of the ride home, but it never came. Instead, you changed the subject all together after sitting in silence for a few minutes. You hoped she didn’t notice that, but she did.

And so you followed your typical Friday night game routine, going to her house, watching Mean Girls, finding yourselves tangled up together but never acknowledging it, and then turning on some other random show or movie before falling asleep. Still in each other's arms. Still, just best friends.

6 years ago

Today was the day, the last full day before your crush best friend was leaving you. Ok well not you per se, but she was leaving. And yes you were also going to leave and go even farther in a few weeks, but that’s beside the point. It still felt like she was leaving you and it just didn’t feel right. You couldn’t exactly put into words how or why you felt so badly about it, but you did. Maybe the fact that you had never been apart for longer than a week played a part in it. Sure, you were both gonna go off and hopefully live your dreams, but it just didn’t feel right to do that away from each other. However, she was going to Iowa and you were going to New York and there's nothing you could do to change that now. And you did genuinely think about going to Iowa instead, but New York was your dream, so when you got into culinary school there you decided to go. You knew you loved it and you knew that New York was a great place to start, not to get started on the fact that it could take you literally anywhere you wanted to go. That didn’t make the decision any less painful though.

“I’m gonna miss you so much,” you whispered in Kate’s ear giving her a hug. You honestly don’t know why you’re saying it right now, it’s not like she's leaving right this second, but you still need to say it, and you’ll probably say it about 1,000 more times before you actually have to say goodbye in the morning after your final Friday night sleepover, even if it didn’t follow a game you guys have grown into the habit of doing this almost every Friday night. She squeezes you tighter if possible when she hears this, trying to burn that moment into her memory, knowing she loves you but it’s too late to do anything about it now, at least not anything serious. It wouldn’t be fair to either of you, to admit her feelings for you after years of friendship less than 24 hours before you guys go to different states for college. It would be cruel, and she told herself it would almost be more cruel if you felt the same way about her. She knew that you came to terms with being queer, at least enough to admit it to her and yourself, what she didn’t know is that a big part of that was you coming to terms with being in love with her. But still, it was too late and she had to let that be.

“I’m gonna miss you too,” Kate said with a big sigh before releasing you, muttering a quick “more than you could know,” under her breath, hoping you didn’t hear. Happy when you showed no indication of hearing the last part.

“But we still have a whole afternoon/night to do all of our favorite things together before I leave. And we can go get our favorite breakfast in the morning,” she said with a more upbeat tone, poking your sides slightly, trying to lighten your spirits too. Slightly succeeding when she saw you perk up a little, putting a small smile on her face.

“Okay, okay, so what do you say to popcorn, Mean Girls, and a bunch of candy?” you asked, slightly mimicking her accent. She replies with an eager nod. Grabbing your hand and pulling you to her room after making a pit stop for the snacks, failing to notice the blush that covered your cheeks. You simply follow her rushed pace, happy you decided to wear sweats and a tank top, as opposed to something like jeans to lounge around in.

By the time you were about halfway through the movie, you found yourself wrapped in her arms, like usual. But for some reason not knowing when you’ll see her again after this, and the cheesy high school coming-of-age movie in the background made you a little more confident. Not super confident to where you would outright tell Kate that you’re in love with her, but confident enough to try and hint at something, which is more than you’d ever been willing to do with anyone else. So that’s what you do. Especially after spending years denying your feelings, and almost a whole extra year hiding them.

“You know what sucks,” you start off looking up at her waiting for any kind of acknowledgment. She finally looks down at you with a light “Hmm?”

“I’m about to go to college and I haven’t even had my first kiss,” you say unable to stop your eyes from glancing down to her lips. This statement took her off guard, sure, you had never talked about anyone, guys or girls, but you’re you and she figured you had your first kiss and in your typical shy fashion, you just hadn't wanted to bring it up.

“What? No way!” she says laughing a little only realizing her mistake when she saw your face drop.

“No no no, I didn’t mean it like that. I just don’t get how you of all people haven’t had your first kiss yet!” she exclaims “I mean you’re literally perfect, you’re beautiful, you’re smart, you’re funny, you’re a great cook, I mean you're my favorite person in the world. I just don’t get how no one’s kissed you yet!” she finished off her little rant with a small huff.

“Well no one’s wanted to,” you mumble looking down a little bit, feeling embarrassed all of a sudden.

“That’s not true,” she mumbles quieter now than she had been before, suddenly feeling almost as shy as you while taking you off guard. It was pretty obvious what she meant, no hidden meaning laced in with her words, unable to pick her gaze back up to your eyes once they dropped down to your lips.

“I mean would you?” you question with a little more confidence once you notice where she's looking. You can’t help but follow her lead and look down to her lips, before going back up to her eyes, even though she still wasn’t looking.

touch me baby, put your lips on mine

“It doesn’t have to be weird or anything, it's just you’re my best friend, and I’ve never kissed anyone, and you’re leaving tomorrow and I don’t want to go to college without at least having my first kiss,” you kind of spit out hoping you don’t sound pathetic or desperate, or make her want to kick you out.

“Would you want me to?” she questions back, already knowing your answer but just wanting to ask to know that you were sure.

“Yeah, I’d like that” You rush out in a kind of whisper to her nodding, so she nods back to you. You can both tell that you’re nervous, each for different reasons. All it takes for you to start leaning into each other is locking your eyes again. In that moment she looks like an angel, with the soft glow of the lamp making her hair look even more golden than usual, to the way she was looking at you, not to mention how you felt about the grip she had on you. You barely even had time to actually look at her before her lips crashed onto yours. And that’s exactly what it felt like in that moment, like waves crashing onto cliffs, a completely overwhelming feeling, yet still, it brought you a newfound sense of peace. She pulled you as close to her as possible, knowing that this may be the only time you get to do this, not wanting to be even an inch away from you. At this point you were basically straddling her while she was leaning up against her headboard, both wanting nothing more than to be together, knowing you couldn’t.

You had never kissed anyone before but thought to yourself that in that moment that if this is what it is like you never wanted to stop. Kate had kissed people before, and you knew that, but what you didn’t know was that none of those felt anything like with you. They couldn’t compare. Not by a long shot. If she didn’t know how much she loved you before, she definitely knew now. The only issue is that she knows this, it’s gonna make it even harder to leave you in the morning.

By the time you guys pull away breathless from a mixture of kissing, nerves, and giddiness, you can’t help but feel at peace, resting your foreheads against each other’s. Sure you knew that nothing could come of this, that nothing would come of this, at least not right now. But you were happy. Happy that you got to show her how much you love her in one small way, one new way. Happy that you got to know her, and happy that she felt the same way about you. Even if you guys didn’t necessarily talk about it, or say outright say it, you both knew that was always one of the best things about your friendship, you didn’t have to actually talk in order to communicate and get your point across, and even when you did need words you didn’t need many of them.

So when you guys make eye contact again you come to a silent agreement, you have that night, and the next morning to talk if you want. You know you love each other, but also that there's realistically nothing you can do for you to start a relationship at that moment and have it work out. Not when you were about to be nearly 1,000 miles apart. It wasn’t right to risk it. And you both know that you’re too important to each other to risk your friendship, especially when almost all of the circumstances are pointing to it not working out. So, you have that night, after that, you’re friends again, maybe not even best friends, and if it works out you can be together in the future when you can be closer. But for the time being this is for the best, this is safe.

April 2024 || Present Day

It had been years since you and Kate had last seen each other properly, there were brief passings when you were both in your hometown that resulted in short conversations, but you were both barely there, you less than her, and when you were your family made sure you never went longer than 20 minutes without them other than to let you sleep. You had stuck to being friends, not best friends, just friends. Never talking about that night, your last night together. Not wanting to risk it, not yet. Other than that, you guys have managed to text each other occasionally to check-in. Keeping each other updated on your lives, but not close. It was as if you had both come to the understanding that you should keep a certain level of distance so as not to ruin what you had. Knowing that if you talked more, you would’ve talked about what could have been more. And you just couldn’t risk it.

id love if you knew you were on my mind, constant like cicadas in the summertime

That’s not to say that you didn’t keep an eye on her and her basketball. You had been her #1 fan since day one, and even if you didn’t talk or see each other as much as you used to, you wouldn’t let that change. You still felt the exact same way when you thought about her, even if you tried not to. Even when you knew you shouldn’t. You just couldn’t stop thinking about her. While you obviously couldn’t go to all of her games anymore, you still watched every single one, even when you were at work during them you would try to either watch it on your phone or record it and watch it when you got home later. You even managed to take off work for both the Final Four and the Finals this year to watch her and her team, even if you didn’t make it in person, you still had to watch the games live. And once you heard that she had declared for the WNBA draft you had to get a ticket for that, it was perfect, it was in Brooklyn so you didn’t have to travel more than taking the subway. And this time you told yourself that you would talk to her, not go up to her at the draft but you would text her and let her know that you were gonna be there if she wanted to meet up after, or at any point while she was in town. You would make an effort to see her. You really didn’t know when the next time you’d get the chance to see her again would be, it’s been so long since the last time, partially due to schedule, partially due to nerves, and you were about to move across the country to Las Vegas for a new job. You figured it was now or never, and you really hoped you would get the chance to see her so you could get her out of your mind.

You knew you had to try. Try to talk to her, try to see her, try something. You couldn’t stand it anymore, constantly thinking about her, you needed closure, even if there wasn’t necessarily anything to get closure about. You still had to try. So even though you had grown up a lot in the past six years, you had learned to start a conversation instead of stuttering your way through when someone came up to you, gotten more friends, and most importantly gained confidence and figured out a pretty good idea of who you were. You were nowhere near as shy as you used to be, but still the mere idea of Kate brought back butterflies that made you feel like you were in high school again. Frankly, the feeling had to be classified as something stronger than butterflies. So obviously the idea of calling her went out the window for you, you figured she was so busy anyway that she probably wouldn't answer, and you told yourself that if she chose not to answer a text it would hurt less than not answering a call. And after a lot of thinking and rewriting, you finally sent her the text.

“Hey Kate, I heard you’re gonna be in town for the draft and I know you’re probably busy but I would love to see you. I just wanted to let you know that I’ve been keeping up with your games, I’m so proud of you, still your #1 fan, and can’t wait to see where you go. I’m gonna be at the draft rooting for you, just like I have been every step of the way even when I couldn’t physically be there. So if you wanna meet up after the draft or at any point while you’re in town let me know.”

Once you hit send you waited, and waited, and waited. Once it hit six hours with no response you figured you weren’t going to get one. Now that you had sent it, you realized that it was more nerve-wracking to sit and wait for the possibility of a response than to try and figure out what to say and hit send. Every possible reaction she could have had to your text was running through your head, well not every one, just every bad one. You didn’t know what she was thinking, or how she thought anymore, and that was terrifying to you. The nerves were so bad that to anyone watching you probably looked like a mess, flushed cheeks, sweaty, a little hunched over, and very clearly looking nauseous. But you were fine, it was no big deal.

You lied to yourself, it still hurt that you didn’t get an answer, but still decided to go to the draft anyway. Even if she didn’t want to see you, you still wanted to support her, figuring it was a big event and the chance of you seeing each other let alone talking were slim to none. You could go and didn’t have to talk if she didn’t want to. Plus you didn’t want to waste your money after you already bought the ticket and more than anything you wanted to support her, she was your first friend, your best friend, so far your most important friend, and now she's about to be a professional basketball player. You had to be there to see it come full circle, after spending the better part of ten years being able to count the number of her games you hadn’t seen on one hand, and saying you were her #1 fan, you just couldn’t miss it. Not for you, and certainly not for her.

By the time you had actually gotten to the draft and it started you were so focused on listening for Kate or her name, you couldn’t focus on anything else. You couldn’t hear anything that wasn’t related to her. You were confident that she was going to get drafted, but there was still a “what if” sitting in the back of your mind knowing your heart would break for her if she didn’t, maybe more than hers. Then you heard it, “With the 18th pick in the 2024 WNBA Draft, The Las Vegas Aces select Kate Martin, University of Iowa.” you were so focused on her getting on a team that you didn’t think of the city she might end up in. You wish you could hit rewind when you heard it, almost not believing it. She got drafted to the Las Vegas Aces, you would be in the same city for the first time in 6 years. There could be a chance of you guys actually happening. Of course, she still had to go through training camp and make the roster before she was officially on the team, but you have no doubt that that’s going to be the easy part compared to everything else that it took to get to that moment. Not to mention text you back. When you’re finally able to focus again, there have been a few more picks you decide to go on your phone and check Twitter to see what they are saying about the draft. What you didn't expect to see when you opened your phone, however, was a message from Kate.

🏀Kate 🏀

“Hey, sorry I didn’t see your message or get back to you earlier! I’m so happy that my #1 fan came to support me just like you have been all these years. It means the absolute world to me to know that you came here for me tonight because I wasn’t even sure I was gonna make it. I haven’t been on my phone like at all today, but I’d love if you’d come celebrate with me and my friends tonight? It only feels right that you’re there, you’ve been there for pretty much everything else already, you should be there to celebrate now too.”

When you read the text you could’ve sworn your stomach quite literally did flips, while a giddy feeling erupted through your body, even releasing a small, relieved, laugh. At this point, the last thing you were expecting was to get a response, at most expecting to go to a bar close to your apartment for a drink or two, if you were feeling frisky. But upon seeing her text, you decided “Why not?” and decided to respond.

“Yeah of course I’d love to celebrate with you and your friends!! You deserve it after all the hard work you put in to get here. Just send me the time and place and I’ll meet you there.”

You tried to keep your response short and sweet, not trying to read too much into what she said or trying to seem too eager. Although, you were quite excited to actually see her and have the opportunity to talk to her again. You figured it wasn’t guaranteed that you were even going to talk more than a simple greeting, let alone that she would want to talk about what happened the last time you spent any substantial amount of time together. Hell, you weren’t even sure you’d stay longer than half an hour. But before you could dwell on it too long, you got a response, with nothing more than an address and a time.

//

By the time you show up, which is 20 minutes late due to nerves alone, you are sure Kate had forgotten that she had even invited you. What you hadn’t expected was for everyone to automatically know who you were, greeting you excitedly. You thought at most one, maybe two people would vaguely know who you were, but you didn’t expect all of your friends to recognize you and know pretty much everything about you. Including things you were pretty sure you hadn’t told Kate when you would catch up.

But that’s exactly what happened, all of her teammates knew who you were, Jada, Gabbie, and Caitlin, even people she barely knew. Never in a million years did you think that she could possibly talk about you that much. You didn’t think there could possibly be that much for someone to talk about regarding you, let alone that anyone would want to, especially after 6 years of limited communication. Yet it warmed your heart, it made you happier than you had been in a long time, to know that she talked about you, that she cared about you enough to talk about you that much. Jada went as far as to say,

“We finally get to meet you after her nonstop talking about you for I don’t even know how long. We were starting to think Kate made you up,” before giving you a hug in greeting. You could tell from that alone that she was an absolute sweetheart.

new crush, high school love again

By the time you had been able to talk to Kate for any substantial amount of time, it was clear that you both had a few drinks. Neither one of you could help yourselves from embracing each other in a long overdue hug, slightly rocking as she lightly rubbed your back. You couldn’t help but feel like you belong there. You had always felt like you belonged when you were with Kate, fitting together like two puzzle pieces. Like you had wasted time not being there. You never wanted to leave her side again. You didn’t think you could stand it. At that moment, hugging each other again for the first time in you don’t know how long, you both felt like you were in high school again. You knew she still gave you butterflies, but in that moment you could have sworn you fell in love with her all over again.

“I’m so proud of you, I knew you could do it,” you whisper while pulling away from the all-too-long hug. Looking up at her, you were filled with an all-new type of butterfly, a bird maybe. Filled with a sense of joy knowing she was happy to see you, and a sense of contentment knowing that you were going to be in the same city again, for the first time in years. Knowing that you know each other, without really knowing each other. In a sense you know each other, you kept each other updated on the big things, relationships you were in when you talked, basic interests, but you didn’t know what really mattered. You didn’t know the little things, the day-to-day, the highs and the lows, and you missed that. You missed knowing the one thing that made her day unbearable, or the one thing that got her through the day. It was always you, to this day. But she wasn’t willing to tell you that yet. She loved you, and you her, and you both knew that, but you only knew that past tense.

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” she says into your ear sending a shiver down your spine. You had officially fallen even more in love with her than the last time you saw each other, and you barely talked yet. And just like no time had passed, able to see the change in your demeanor, she grabbed you by the hips before looking into your eyes.

“I’m serious y’know? I really wouldn’t be here without you. You made it all worth it,” she pauses, eyes briefly scanning the room. “Every time I felt like I couldn’t do it, you made sure to tell me that I could. You made it clear that you believed in me, but you weren’t ever gonna push me into something I didn’t want. Even when you weren’t there I still thought of you. Thought of what you would say, how you would make everything better. You got me here baby,” she finishes off. Her eyes found their way back to yours while she talked, the intensity of her gaze alone could melt you.

“Even though I wasn’t there I never missed a game. I watched every single one, even if it was just a recording. I'm still your #1 fan, and I can promise to never miss a game of yours in the WNBA now either. I’ll even be at all the home games,” you smile up at her looking to see if she caught onto your words. You can see her trying to figure out what you meant, her eyebrows scrunching up in confusion as she was thinking before a smile eventually broke out on her face.

“What? Are you moving to Vegas?” she asks, her volume growing with each word. She grabbed you by the shoulders before lightly shaking you in disbelief. As if trying to figure out whether or not this was really happening.

“Yeah, I got a job there and I’m moving at the beginning of May,” you say laughing at her clear excitement. To her it felt like she was about to burst, this is what you had been waiting for, this was a sign. It wasn’t planned and neither one of you had any idea it was going to happen, but you were going to be together again.

the rush of slumber party kissing

“I can’t believe it! Are you joking?” she asks looking down at you for any hint of a lie coming from you, but she found none, so she continued. “Like we’re actually going to live in the same city? This is amazing, I can’t believe it.” and then it slips out, she doesn’t mean to say it, but she does, “We could try. Like we could actually be together, for real-” By the time she realizes what she said she was looking at the floor and couldn’t bear to try and meet your gaze. After all, she basically just confessed that she was still in love with you after 6 years of barely seeing or talking to each other.

“Really? You’d want that?” you ask her, grabbing her face and lifting it to meet your eyes. You couldn’t believe she wanted you, after all this time she still wanted you. So you did something Kate never in a million years thought you would’ve done, you kissed her. She wasn’t sure where your confidence had come from whether it had been her basically admitting that she never moved on from you, or the drinks you had, or just simply you growing up and actually being more confident. But she couldn’t think about that now. Now she had you in her arms, for the first time in years. She had you in a way she thought she had missed out on because she waited. And in that moment she knew she wasn’t going to let you go ever again.

[kmomof4]

A Scoundrel... Or a Gentleman? Ch. 3

Y'all... I STILL can't get over y'all's enthusiasm for this fic!!! THANK YOU FROM THE BOTTOM OF MY HEART!!!

And now, it's time for the new chapter! I hope y'all enjoy and let me know what you think!

But first, can you all join me in screaming at @snowbellewells for the gorgeous banner she made for the fic?! Thank you soooo much, babe!!!

Thank you again to @jrob64 for her beta services and listening to me whine, @hollyethecurious and @winterbaby89 who did as well, and @motherkatereloyshipper for the chapter art she made that I mistakenly posted with the Prologue instead of Ch2 where it belonged. Thank you all so much, ladies!!!

Chapter summary: Hurt/Comfort incoming!!! Enjoy!!!

Words: closing in on 6600 of approx 59,5k

Rating: M (smut in later chs)

Tags: Regency Romance, Inspired by Francesca Bridgerton's Story, Smut in Later Chapters.

On ao3 From Beginning / Current Chapter

On Tumblr Prologue Ch2

Tagging the usuals. Please let me know if you'd like to be added or removed.

@jrob64 @winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @the-darkdragonfly @jennjenn615 @donteattheappleshook @undercaffinatednightmare @pirateherokillian @cocohook38 @qualitycoffeethings @booksteaandtoomuchtv @superchocovian @motherkatereloyshipper @snowbellewells @pirateprincessofpizza @djlbg @lfh1226-linda @xarandomdreamx @tiganasummertree @bluewildcatfanatic @anmylica @laianely @resident-of-storybrooke @exhaustedpirate @gingerchangeling @caught-in-the-filter @ultraluckycatnd @stahlop @darkshadow7 @fleurdepetite @captainswan-kellie @soniccat @beckettj @teamhook @whimsicallyenchantedrose @thisonesatellite @jonesfandomfanatic @elfiola @zaharadessert @ilovemesomekillianjones @mie779 @kymbersmith-90 @suwya

Under the cut, unless Tumblr ate it.

Ch. 3

“Didn’t Killian say he would join us for dinner this evening?” Ruth asked.

Emma looked at the clock on the mantelpiece.  It wasn’t like him to be late. “He did.”

“And didn’t we tell him the time?”

Ruth’s face betrayed that she was worried about their unaccounted for dinner guest, and Emma sighed. She’d been dreading his arrival all day long - on account of her epiphany in the park and then the conversation with her mother. She just wasn’t sure she could face him without her face betraying her. But small blessings, he likely wasn’t even aware of what happened to her in the park.

She nodded. “I confirmed the time with him when we arrived back here after our stroll through the park.” She remembered the exchange with perfect clarity. She’d felt quite sick to her stomach at the time - not wanting to see him again so soon - but she had no choice in the matter. Her mother had extended the invitation, not her.

“Perhaps I should go check on him,” Emma said, rising to her feet. The more she thought about it, the more concerned she grew about him. He may be known as a rake and scoundrel, but he was polite and courteous to a fault and would never be late - over thirty minutes late - to any gathering he was invited to. Not without sending some kind of word.

“Oh, would you, dear? I’d be so grateful,” Ruth assured her.

Emma nodded and hurried out of the room. It only took a few minutes before she was safely ensconced in a carriage and on her way to Kilmartin House. The streets weren’t terribly busy. The ton wouldn’t be out on their way to balls and parties for another couple of hours yet.

She arrived at the house and climbed the steps, the door opening before she even had a chance to use the knocker. 

“Is Kilmartin here?” A small smile touched her lips as she realized it was the first time she’d referred to Killian as such. It was strange, but good too, how easily she called him by his title. It was probably time anyway. He was the earl now. She wouldn’t refer to him as Mr. Jones or Killian with the staff ever again.

“I believe so,” the footman replied. “He arrived home this afternoon and I haven’t been made aware of his departure.”

Emma nodded in acknowledgement, then hurried up the stairs. If he’d been in his downstairs office, the footman would have known. She reached the second floor landing and hurried down the hall to his bedchamber.

“Killian?” she asked, once she reached his door. “Killian?” 

There was no answer, and Emma slowly pushed the door open. “Killian,” she called again, a little softer this time, not wanting to wake him if he slept. Perhaps he was still tired after his long journey. 

Perhaps… 

She couldn’t finish the thought. She burst through the door in a panic and ran to the bed to find Killian huddled in the middle of the bed, looking as sick as anyone she’d ever seen in her life.

“Killian!” she cried, unable to keep the alarm out of her voice, although she was very relieved that he was indeed alive.

He startled and turned toward her. “Emma?” His voice was a low rasp that she’d never heard from his lips. His dark hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat, his eyes - from what she could tell in the semi-darkened room - were glazed, his skin was mottled and flushed, and the level of heat emanating from the bed quite took her breath away. Not to mention that he smelled sick. That kind of awful, putrid kind of smell that if it had a color, would surely be vomitous green. Emma touched his forehead and immediately drew her hand back from the heat of it.

“What is wrong with you?”

“Oh, it’s nothing but a head cold,” he croaked.

There was no way for her to keep the incredulous shock off of her face. “That is not a head cold,” she asserted.

He tried to smile, but it came across as more of a ghastly grimace instead. “A really bad head cold?” he tried again. 

“Killian George Alaster Jones!” If he wasn’t so sick, she might have smacked him on the arm. But since he was, she restrained herself.

“Good God, you sound like my mother.” He pulled the covers back up over himself, his whole body shaking with the exertion.

“Killian,” she growled, “I insist that you tell me what is wrong with you. You forget, I know you and how you operate. You always act like nothing ever matters, like water off a duck’s back. You will not brush me off and attempt to minimize this. Do you understand me?”

“I’ll be better tomorrow,” he mumbled.

“Oh, right,” Emma replied, with every bit of sarcasm she could muster, which was quite a lot, actually.

“I will, truly,” he insisted, turning over onto his back with a groan. “I’ll be fine tomorrow.”

Something about the tone of his voice struck her as odd. “And what about the day after that?” she asked, her eyes narrowing.

“Oh, well then I’ll be sick as a dog again,” he said with a harsh chuckle.

“Killian,” she said, the dread in her heart forcing her pitch lower. “What is wrong with you?”

“Haven’t you guessed, Emma?” he asked, poking his head back out of the covers. He looked so ill, she wanted to weep. “I have malaria.”

“Oh, my God,” she gasped, backing up a step. “Oh, my God!”

“That’s the first time I’ve ever heard you blaspheme,” he remarked. “Should probably be flattered that it’s over me.” She had no idea how he could be so flippant at a time like this. She reached out for him, but drew back again, unsure what exactly to do. “Don’t worry,” he assured her. “You can’t catch it from me.”

“I can’t?” She blinked in surprise. “I mean, of course, I can’t.” And even if she could, it shouldn’t have stopped her from trying to help him. This was Killian. He was… well, it was difficult to define exactly what he was to her, but they had an unbreakable bond between them - they always had - that time and distance had not erased.

“It’s the air,” he said, tiredly. “You have to breathe the putrid air to catch it. It’s why they call it malaria. If you could get it from another person, we would have infected all of England by now.” 

She nodded at his explanation. “Are you… are you…?” she tried again. She couldn’t say it out loud.

He shook his head. “No,” he assured her. “At least, they don’t think so.”

Emma sagged with relief, then sat down. She couldn’t imagine a world without him. Even when he was gone the last four years, even with as furious as she was at him for leaving her in the first place, she took comfort in the fact that he still shared the same planet with her. That if she truly needed him, he’d be at her side as quickly as he could be.

He was here. He was alive. And with Liam gone… She shook her head. She didn’t know how the universe could expect her to lose them both.

He shivered again, violently.

“Do you need medicine?” she asked, snapped out of her musings. “Do you have medicine?”

“Took it already,” he said, teeth chattering.

She had to do something. She never blamed herself for Liam’s death, but it haunted her that it had happened while she was out. That he had died alone. And even if Killian was only sick and not dying, she wasn’t going to allow him to suffer through it alone.

“Let me get you another blanket.” She hurried through the door to her adjoining suite and took the pink coverlet off the bed. She couldn’t help the small smile as she thought of his grumbling and complaining about the color once he reached a state of sensibility again. “Is there anything else I can do?” she asked as she tucked the blanket around him.

He shook his head. “Thank you, but no.”

“Are you sure? There’s nothing I can do?” She pulled a chair over to the side of the bed and sat down.

“Nothing.” The single word held such a note of finality about it, she had to believe him. He had obviously dealt with this before.

“I cannot believe…”

“We are meant to simply wait it out,” he interrupted her.

“That cannot possibly be true.”

He groggily opened a single eyelid and shot her a look. “Do you mean to contradict the entire medical establishment? Hmmm?”

She ground her teeth in frustration and caught a shadow of his old smirk on his face. She hated how well he knew her. “Are you sure you don’t need more medicine?”

He shook his head just the tiniest bit, and groaned at the exertion. “Not for a few hours yet.”

“Where is it?” she asked. If the only thing she could do was wait by his side until it was time to give him more of the medicine, then, by God, that was exactly what she’d do.

He moved his head slightly to the left and she saw a medicinal bottle on top of a folded newspaper. She picked it up and read the label as she came back to her chair.

“Quinine,” she murmured. “I’ve heard of that.”

“Miracle medicine,” he said. “Or so they say.” The look she sent him was dubious in the extreme. “Just look at me. Proof positive.” He gave her a lopsided - but still altogether charming - grin.

“I am unconvinced.”

A groan escaped him as he shrugged a single shoulder. “I’m not dead.”

“That’s not funny,” she admonished him.

“No, it’s the only funny thing,” he corrected her. “In the middle of this, we have to take our laughs when and where we can.”

She reached out and took his hand. “We’ll get through this.”

He nodded and closed his eyes. Just when she thought he’d fallen asleep, she heard him whisper.

“It’s better with you here.”

~*~*~

Killian awoke the next morning feeling - at least somewhat - refreshed, if not a damn sight better than he had the night before. He looked around to see Emma, much to his horror, sound asleep in the armchair she’d pulled over to the side of the bed. She looked about as uncomfortable as a body could possibly be and still be asleep, from the way her head and neck were at a terribly awkward angle, to the way her torso was twisted so that she could draw her legs up into the chair.

He knew it was too much to hope for to keep his illness hidden from her. She was far too perceptive. And nosy to boot. But as much as he didn’t want to be a burden to her and have her fussing over him, it was a profound comfort to him to have had her here with him the night before.

She snored softly, and for some reason that quite delighted him. He’d never seen her asleep and a soft smile spread across his face. Of course, he had imagined watching her sleep more times than he could count. She stirred slightly, and he realized she was on the verge of awakening. In all his daydreams, he’d never pictured this - the low rumble from deep in her chest as she changed position, the soft sigh as she yawned, the delicate flutter of her eyelids as they opened.

She was utterly breathtaking.

He knew that, of course. He’d always known that. But for some reason, this morning, it was something he felt in his very soul. The center of his being.

It wasn’t her golden hair, that even in the darkness of his still shrouded bedchamber glowed with its own inner light. It wasn’t the depth of her green eyes - which to Liam’s constant amusement had inspired poetry when she was still a debutante. It wasn’t even the bone structure of her face, the delicate loveliness that characterized all the Nolan ladies.

It was something in the way she moved.

The way she breathed.

The way she simply existed.

“Killian?” she murmured, opening her eyes at last.

“Good morning,” he greeted her. He hoped she was either not awake enough to notice the huskiness of his voice or, if she did, that she’d chalk it up to utter exhaustion after a very rough night.

“You look better.”

He nodded. “ I feel better.”

She swallowed hard before speaking. “You - you’re used to this.”

He nodded again. “I wouldn’t go so far as to say that I’m used to it, exactly, but I do know what to do.”

“How long will this continue?”

“It varies,” he began. “I’ll have fevers every other day until they just… stop. Generally a week or two, at most.”

Her face was a mixture of dismay and unbelief. “And then what?”

“And then, I go on about my life and hope it never happens again.”

“It can do that?” she asked incredulously. “Just never come back again?”

“It is a strange, fickle disease.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Don’t say it’s just like a woman.”

“It never crossed my mind until you mentioned it.” But he couldn’t resist smirking meaningfully at her.

She huffed and rolled her eyes. “How often do they come?” She looked puzzled for a moment, then spoke again. “What do you call them?”

“I call them attacks,” he informed her. “They certainly feel like one, anyway. It’s been six months since the last one.”

She brightened considerably. “That’s good!” And then fell again, just as quickly. “Isn’t it?”

“Considering the one before that was only three months between, I’d say yes.”

“How often has this happened?”

“I’ve been dealing with this for almost two years,” he replied. “And this is my sixth attack. But I have seen much worse.”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “Am I supposed to take solace in that?”

“I do,” he said bluntly.

She pressed her lips into a thin line then reached for his forehead. “You’re much cooler.”

“Yes, I would be. It’s a remarkably consistent disease, at least when in the midst of it. It would be very nice to know when I might expect an onset, though,” he mused.

“And you’ll really have another fever in a day’s time?” she asked. “Just like that?”

“Just like that,” he confirmed.

Her eyes grew soft as she watched him for a moment. “You won’t be able to hide this from your mother, you know.”

It hadn’t even occurred to him. In his shock, he tried to sit up. “For God’s sake, Emma, do not tell my mother…”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Killian!” she interrupted. “Do you really expect to keep something of this import away from her? Do credit her with a bit of intelligence!”

He slumped back against the pillows. “Very well,” he humphed. “But no one else. I do not wish to be known as the freak of London.”

“You’re not the first person to be stricken with malaria.”

“I do not want anyone’s pity,” he grit out. “Most especially, yours.”

She drew back as if he’d struck her, and of course he felt like an ass.

“I’m sorry. Truly,” he apologized. “Please forgive me. That came out wrong.” As an explanation, it was woefully inadequate, but it was all he had at the moment. “I don’t want your pity,” he tried again, repentance in every word. “But your care and good wishes are most welcomed.”

Her eyes wouldn’t meet his and he knew she was trying to decide if she believed him.

“I mean it,” he assured her. “I have been through this before, and having you here last night… made it better. Easier.” The exhaustion was overtaking him again and he could only just nod at her. “Yes, easier to bear… with you here. Thank you.”

“Of course,” she murmured. “I wouldn’t be anywhere else.” That made him turn his head sharply toward her. She looked down at her clasped hands folded demurely in her lap. She truly wouldn’t have been anywhere else than by his side when he was this ill. It brought him such a sense of peace, he had to blink back tears. He turned away from her, reluctant to allow her to see how her words affected him, and could just see the light through the gap in between the curtains.

“Won’t your mother be worried about you?”

“Oh, no!” she cried, leaping up and slamming her hand on the table. Her hiss of pain made him try to sit up again, but he couldn’t manage it, slumping back against the pillows. “I’d quite forgotten about my mother. She was expecting me back last night.”

“Didn’t you send her a note?”

“Yes, of course,” she replied with a hint of impatience. “I told her you were ill, but she wrote back and said she would come by this morning to offer her assistance. What time is it?” she asked, looking around before her gaze landed on the mantle clock. Of course she’d know where the clock was. This had been Liam’s room, after all. “It’s only eight. She’s never awake before nine, unless there’s some sort of emergency. Which, I hope, she wouldn’t consider this to be. I told her you were ill with a head cold, so she doesn’t know about the malaria, but I hope she doesn’t rush over here because I panicked her with my note.”

Knowing Emma, it was probably the utter opposite of panicked and she was worrying for nothing. 

“There’s no need to panic.”

She shot him an incredulous look. “I know that’s what you said, but that wouldn’t stop her from panicking because of my note and rushing over here, and you said you didn’t want anyone to know about it.”

His lips parted in a soft O of surprise. He’d never dreamed she would hold his wishes so close to her heart. “You would keep this from your mother?” he asked softly.

Her eyes softened. “Of course. It’s your decision to tell her. Not mine.”

It was quite touching. Tender, even.

“Even if I think you’re insane,” she added.

Well, maybe tender wasn’t the right word.

“But I will honor your wishes.” She planted her hands on her hips, quite honestly as vexed as he’d ever seen her. “How could you think I would do otherwise?”

“I have no idea,” he murmured.

“Really, Killian,” she grumbled. “I do not know what is wrong with you.”

“Swampy air?” he tried to joke, aiming for his signature devil may care grin.

She shot him A Look. Capitalized.

“I am going back to my mother’s,” she said, pulling on her boots. “If I don’t, you can be sure that she’d be here within an hour with the entire faculty of the Royal College of Physicians in tow.”

“Is that what she did when you took ill?”

She let out a little sound that was half snort, half grunt, and all irritation. “I’ll be back soon. Don’t go anywhere.”

He made a half-hearted motion toward the sickbed and tried to grin, though it was most likely more of a grimace. 

“Well, I wouldn’t put it past you,” she sassed.

“Your faith in my superhuman strength is most touching.”

She paused at the door and pursed her lips. “I swear, Killian. You are the most annoying deathly ill patient I’ve ever seen.”

This time, he did manage a smile. “I live to entertain you.” She huffed and spun out of the door and down the hall. He was quite sure if she’d had something to throw at him, she would have. And with great vigor.

He might be an annoying patient, but she was a crotchety nurse. Which was just fine with him.

~*~*~

It had been a week since Emma discovered Killian had malaria. She’d kept his secret from her family, no matter that they were most anxious to see him. It had been quite a job in and of itself, and Emma was sure Ruth wasn’t going to be put off for much longer. 

Keeping Killian out of sight of the ton proved to be much easier. He simply turned down all invitations, pleading his long journey and need to settle in before he entered society. His mother had yet to arrive from Scotland and so Emma spent her days at Kilmartin House nursing Killian, and her nights back at Number 5. 

Surely today Alice would arrive, and she could move back into Kilmartin House permanently, no longer worried about their lack of a chaperone.

“I believe I’ll come with you to Kilmartin House today, Emma,” Ruth informed her at breakfast. Emma almost choked on her muffin.

“W-why?” she stammered.

“I want to see Killian, of course,” she replied.

“I-I am not sure of his plans today, Mother,” Emma answered quickly. Killian had had another attack the night before- his fourth to be precise- and they were both hopeful it was the last in the cycle. But while he’d be much recovered this morning, he still looked, quite simply, dreadful. If Ruth caught a glimpse of him, she’d be horrified. And furious. Ruth Nolan hated to be kept in the dark. Especially about a matter that could be termed as “life or death” without being accused of hyperbole.

“If he’s not available, then I shall return home,” Ruth said serenely. 

Emma rose from the table with as much grace as she could muster. “I’ll just go on over and see if he’s available, and if he isn’t, I’ll send word.”

“I’ll see you out.” Ruth rose with her and Emma sighed, trying desperately to keep her agitation contained.

Once they were at the door and waiting for the footman to bring Emma’s coat, Ruth spoke.

“Do you have something to tell me?”

“I-I don’t know what you mean.”

“Don’t you?” Ruth’s countenance was serious and Emma breathed a quick prayer that she’d quickly get to the point. And that she’d have an answer for her.

“I assure you, Mother,” she put on her most innocent face, “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“You have been spending quite a bit of time at Kilmartin House,” she informed her unnecessarily. “And without a chaperone.”

“And the problem with that is?” Emma asked. “He’s my brother. In-law,” she added quickly. “And I’m not a never-married virgin!”

“What exactly is your relationship with the earl?” Trust her mother to cut right to the chase without beating about the bush. Emma couldn’t contain her shock if she tried.

“Mother!”

“You needn’t look so shocked. It is not a silly question.” Her mother was serious. Her mother believed her to be having an affair with Killian. Emma couldn’t begin to formulate a response.

“H-he’s my b-brother!” she exclaimed again. She could think of nothing else.

“He was your husband’s brother,” Ruth corrected.

“And mine,” Emma insisted, sharply. “I can’t believe you’d believe… Good heavens! I can’t even imagine!”

Except that she could. Caring for Killian the last week had kept the thoughts at bay, but now, with her mother guessing… she couldn’t pretend that the moment at Hyde Park hadn’t happened. The moment she saw Killian as a man. Not as her brother. In-law. She was absolutely mortified. She didn’t have any attraction to Killian. She couldn’t. It was wrong. It was just… wrong. There was no better word for it.

She took a deep breath trying desperately to bring her chaotic thoughts under control. “I told you, Mother. Killian has been ill.”

“Seven days is quite a long time for a head cold,” she observed.

Emma nodded quickly. “It is, but I’m confident he’s feeling better and will soon be up for visitors and to take his place in society. I’ve felt it my duty to help him settle in and become acclimated to his new duties. He has been gone a very long time.”

“Yes, he has,” her mother conceded, but without taking her eyes off her daughter. “I will see you in an hour.” And with those words, Ruth turned and walked away, leaving Emma very panicked indeed.

~*~*~

Killian was enjoying a few moments of peace and quiet when Emma burst into his bedchamber quite agitated and out of breath.

“You have two choices,” she informed him on a rough exhale.

“Emma,” he said, concerned. “Did you run all the way over here?”

“Of course not!” she exclaimed. “Just up the stairs.” Her breathing was harsh and rapid and Killian worried about her dropping with a case of the vapors.

“Emma?” he asked gingerly, very aware that he should proceed with caution when she was in such a state. “Are you quite all…”

“My mother is coming,” she interrupted.

“Here?” Killian asked, his brows nearly hitting his hairline.

She nodded. Killian pressed his lips together. It wasn’t an ideal situation, but he wouldn’t have thought it worth the level of panic he saw in her.

“Why?” It seemed the next logical question.

Emma’s hand fluttered from her hip, to her forehead, mouth and finally over her breasts before speaking.

“She thinks…” she trailed away and took another harsh breath. “She thinks… oh, heavens, you won’t believe it.”

He waited for her to speak again, and when she didn’t, he simply raised a single eyebrow at her in inquiry. 

“She believes,” Emma shuddered, “that we are conducting an affair!”

“After only a week back in London,” he murmured thoughtfully. “I’m faster than even I believed.”

Emma blanched. “How can you joke at a time like this?”

“How can you not?” But of course she wouldn’t joke about it. To her, it was unthinkable. To him, however…

Well, to him it was something else entirely.

“I am horrified.”

Killian shrugged indifferently, even if he was feeling rather pricked. He knew Emma didn’t see him that way, but an expression of horror didn’t exactly leave him feeling proud about his manly prowess.

“What are my two choices?” he asked abruptly. 

She stared at him.

“You said I had two choices.”

She blinked in surprise, and would have looked rather adorably befuddled if he hadn’t been overly irritated at her at the moment.

“I… don’t recall,” she finally said. “Oh, my heavens! What am I to do?”

“Settling down might be a good beginning,” he said mildly. She was in such a state, her head jerked sharply when she turned to him. “Stop and think, Emma. We are talking about us. Your mother will take one good look at us and realize how ridiculous…” he nearly winced at the word, but he believed he caught himself before she would have caught it, “the idea is.” 

She took a deep cleansing breath, but the color was still high on her cheeks and her movements sharp. She wasn’t calmed by his words in the slightest.

“That’s what I told her. Oh, my heavens,” she lamented. “Could you imagine?”

Yes, he could actually. Even if she obviously couldn’t.

“It’s simply…” her arms flailed about her as she began to pace, unable to find the words to express herself. “Inconceivable! Unfathomable! As if I… As if you…!” She continued her tirade under her breath as she paced. 

“You know, I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you quite so put out,” he observed. She stopped and looked at him as if he was some loathsome creature that crawled out of the most foul smelling refuse pile in all of London. “You really ought to endeavor to calm down.” He meant the words sincerely, even if he knew Emma wouldn’t heed them. Women everywhere hated to be told to calm down and Emma was no exception.

“Calm down? Calm down?” she repeated. “I can’t believe I’m hearing this from you, Killian! Are you still feverish?”

“No.”

“Do you understand what I’m saying to you?”

“Quite.”

“It’s insane. Completely insane,” she said with a little shake of her head. “I mean, look at you!”

He raised his eyebrow at her for that. “Yes, I’m aware of what I look like, generally. And what does that have to do with anything?” he asked, struggling mightily to keep his temper in check. “You know, there are a lot of women in London who would be quite pleased to be, how did you put it, ‘conducting an affair’ with me.” She stopped in her tracks and stood staring at him, her mouth hanging open.

He leaned back against the pillows and waggled his brows at her. “Some would call it a privilege.”

Her mouth snapped shut and she glared at him.

“Some women…” he continued, though he knew with absolute certainty that he shouldn’t bait her like this, “might engage in physical battle just for the chance…”

“Stop now, Killian,” she snapped, interrupting him. “Really, this overinflated view of your own prowess…”

“I’m told it’s deserved,” he interrupted her right back, a smug smile on his face. Her cheeks flamed. He might love her, but he couldn’t deny a small bit of satisfaction at seeing her so tortured. It was only a portion of what he lived with on a daily basis, after all.

“I have no wish to hear of your amorous exploits,” Emma said primly. 

Killian’s brows nearly hit his hairline in surprise. “Oh, really? You used to. All the time, in fact. What was it you used to say?” he mused. “Ah yes! Tell me something wicked,” he continued, trying for all the world to sound as if he really had just remembered what she used to say to him, when he never actually forgot anything she ever said to him. “Tell me something wicked,” he repeated. “That was it. You were always curious about my exploits.”

“That was before…”

“Before what?” he asked mildly, quite interested in what she might say in answer to his question.

She stared blankly at him again, as if she didn’t quite understand the question. “Before this… now… everything…”

“And I’m supposed to understand that?”

She glared in response.

“Very well, then. I suppose I should prepare myself for your mother’s visit.” She still stood staring at him, and he lifted a brow in inquiry. “Are you just going to wait here for me to ready myself, and thus expose yourself to certain parts of my anatomy you’d rather not see? Or will you await my dashing presence downstairs?”

Emma’s jaw dropped slightly before she turned and fled the room. Which was odd. Emma never fled anything. Nor did she ever allow him to have the last word. And most of all, he couldn’t believe she’d let him get away with calling himself dashing.

Most puzzling indeed.

~*~*~

Emma never had to suffer through her mother’s anticipated visit. Not twenty minutes after she left Killian’s bedchamber, a note arrived from Number 5 announcing that Emma’s brother August had just arrived home - after gallivanting around the Mediterranean for months on end - thus requiring Ruth to postpone her visit.

And then, that evening, Killian’s mother finally arrived from Scotland, allowing Emma to return to Kilmartin House full-time since a chaperone was now in place. Alice Jones was, of course, delighted to see her son return home, as demonstrated by the tight and enthusiastic embrace she greeted him with, but she was quite taken aback when his sickly countenance registered and she was informed of his malady. 

Much to Emma’s surprise, she agreed with Killian about keeping the malaria a secret. Now that he was home and apparently ready to take on the duties of the earl, Alice was determined to see him married by the end of the season, and this disease could only be a detriment to that end.

And to be honest, Emma was quite relieved to hear Killian’s mother talk to him about getting married. It took Alice’s attention off of Emma and her own plans for the season. She had enough to worry about from her own mother’s interference, without Alice adding to it. 

So Emma and Alice occasionally ventured out in the evenings with Killian continuing to refuse all invitations. And while Emma had expected some questions about her brother-in-law, she’d been utterly unprepared for the volume and frequency of those questions. Everyone wanted to know about him. And not just the single ladies and their mamas. Even older married women, widows, and a few men expressed interest in his whereabouts. No doubt looking for some tidbit of gossip to share among their respective circles. It was all Emma could do to keep a straight, and pleasant, face without rolling her eyes at their collective intrusive nosiness. Their transparency was ridiculous. It was going to be utter madness when he actually recovered.

And then, suddenly, he did.

Well, perhaps it wasn’t as suddenly as she supposed. The fevers had been spacing themselves out and had been less severe, but it truly did seem sudden with him looking pale and sickly one day and the next hale and hearty as he ever was.

“Quinine,” he remarked with a shrug. “I’d take it six times a day if it didn’t taste so damn foul.”

“Language please, Killian,” Alice reminded him as he sat down at the breakfast table.

“Have you tasted the quinine, Mother?” he asked.

“Of course not.”

“You wouldn’t scold me for my language if you had,” he assured her.

She huffed, but it was plain for all to see that it was only for show. She was far too pleased to see him out of bed and looking like himself again.

“Now that you are recovered,” she began, “You must attend to the duties of the earl.”

Killian groaned and rolled his eyes.

“Oh, don’t be so petulant,” she chided him. “No one is going to hang you by your thumbs. I was simply going to say that you need to schedule a visit to the tailor for a set of evening clothes.”

“I think I’d rather donate my thumbs,” Killian muttered.

“They’re lovely thumbs,” Alice replied, not missing a beat, “but they’d be much more use attached to your hands.”

Killian met her eyes before speaking. “I must have neglected to inform you of my appointments today,” he said. “First, I am meeting with the prime minister concerning the assumption of my seat at the House of Lords. Then I have an appointment with the family solicitor so that I might review the state of our financial holdings, and then finally an interview with our primary estate manager, who I’m told has come down to London for the express purpose of discussing the state of all seven of our family properties. At which point should I squeeze in a visit to the tailor?”

Alice and Emma were both speechless.

“Perhaps I should inform the prime minister that I had to move him to Thursday?” he asked mildly.

“When did you make all of these appointments?” Emma asked, still stunned at his apparent diligence.

“Did you think I spent the last fortnight staring at the ceiling?” he asked, eyebrows raised.

“Well, no…” She hadn’t really given much thought to how he’d spent his days. She would have spent them reading.

“As I hope we have quite clearly established,” he said, pushing back from his seat, “I have a very busy day ahead of me. If you ladies will excuse me.” He hadn’t even risen to his full height when Alice caught his attention with a light cough.

“An appointment tomorrow with the tailor is perfectly acceptable,” she informed him with a smile. Emma could see his jaw muscle clench in irritation. “You wouldn’t want to miss Lady Nolan’s birthday celebration would you?”

Emma quickly took a bite of her eggs to hide her grin. Alice was positively devious when it suited her purposes. Her mother’s birthday party was the one event that Killian would absolutely feel obligated to attend. Anything else, he could shrug off. 

But Ruth?

Emma didn’t think so.

“When is it?” he sighed.

“April 11th,” she informed him, sweetly. “Everyone will be there.”

“Everyone?” he echoed.

“All the Nolans.” He brightened visibly. “And everyone else,” she continued with an indifferent shrug.

“Am I to get no reprieve?” he asked the room at large.

“Of course you do,” Alice replied. “In fact, you had one last week. We called it malaria.”

“And here I was looking forward to health,” he muttered, rolling his eyes.

“I am sure you’ll have a lovely time,” Alice continued. “And perhaps meet a lovely lady.”

Killian sighed and rolled his eyes again. “Ah yes, lest we forget my true purpose in life.”

“It’s not such a bad purpose, you know,” Emma said, unable to resist teasing him just a bit.

“Oh, really?” His piercing gaze landed on her, and Emma wondered if perhaps she shouldn’t have provoked him. “And just what are your purposes?” 

Alice looked to her with clear interest and Emma had to lick her suddenly dry lips.

“Oh, this and that,” she answered blithely, waving her hand carelessly. “At the moment, to finish my breakfast,” she continued before taking another bite of her eggs. “It is most delicious, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Hmmmm,” he hummed, amusement coloring his features. “Coddled eggs with a side of meddling mothers?”

“And sister-in-law as well,” Emma reminded him, a sly smile on her face. She shouldn’t, she knew she shouldn’t, but she just couldn’t help herself. There was little she enjoyed more in this world than teasing Killian Jones, and moments like this were simply too delicious to resist.

“And how will you be spending your season, Emma?” he asked, tilting his head just slightly to tell her he knew exactly what he was doing and was waiting patiently to see how she would answer him. 

Well, she had provoked him first after all.

“I expect I’ll begin by attending my mother’s birthday party.”

“And doing what?” He wasn’t going to let up.

“Offering my felicitations, of course.” She raised her chin slightly in challenge.

“And is that all?”

“Well, I won’t be inquiring after her age, if that’s what you mean.”

“No, don’t do that,” Alice offered.

“I’m leaving now,” Killian informed them, turning towards the door. Emma said nothing. She was too surprised to say a single word. Alice’s interjection effectively brought the back and forth between them to an end and Killian had taken the interruption as a justification to withdraw from their usual repartee.

Killian had changed.

It wasn’t that he’d been irresponsible before, but he hadn’t had any real responsibilities. And while she knew he’d do what was expected of him once he returned home and assumed his duties, it hadn’t really occurred to her just how well he’d rise to the occasion.

“Killian,” she said softly, gaining his immediate attention. “Good luck with the prime minister.”

His eyes caught hers and something flashed between them. A moment of gratitude and understanding. A moment of communication that only those in the closest relationships engaged in. The kind of moment she’d often shared with Liam.

Did that really just happen? With Killian? Her friend and brother-in-law? It wasn’t possible, was it? Was it?

What was she going to do now?

~*~*~

Thank you for reading and sharing! Next chapter will be up on Saturday!

[theswanqu33nsblog]

Hands on your knees, i'm Angelina Jolie.

Warnings: mention of P and V, 18+, some aggression, f! reader, Smut, mention of feminism, misogyny.

I tried to make my first smut so sorry if there are spelling mistakes or lack of creativity.

You didn't know how out of nowhere you found yourself in front of Kai Anderson, the guy you met in your first days at the gym. You only saw how his hand moved up and down, stroking his cock, which was really an impressive size and not to mention the tons of veins in it, including his hand. His eyes penetrated deeply into yours while he kept his mouth slightly open, letting out moans, while the water from the gym showers fell on his naked body...oh damn how sexy the wet guy looked, wishing you could touch him so intimately, Instead, you were standing there in shock.

You could only notice the small smirk he gave as his hand squeezed his cock tightly, letting out some precum, and then he said. "Maybe you would like to help me with this? Or will you just stand there like a stupid bitch?"

or damn maybe be your fucking bitch.

Obviously without thinking about it and feeling your panties soaked, you removed the towel that you were wearing around your body to shower, even though you were in panties without a bra, he just looked at you from head to toe and told you. "nice tits"

Feeling the crimson color running down your cheeks you took off your flip flops and entered under the rain of hot water from the shower in front of him, his hand that had traces of precum went to your neck and slowly went down to your tits, squeezing your left breast and then his two fingers massaging your nipple making you gasp with need. His free hand went down from your abdomen to your pussy, sliding his index finger right between your slit, taking some of your wet liquid and slowly rubbing it against your clit in a circular motion. "So hot..."

He whispered in your ear, although you could also feel his length bump against your hip, causing your legs to tremble and make you wetter, to which he let out a laugh. You couldn't control it and you decided to open your legs trying to make him enter you and fuck you in the richest way, although he slapped you and clenched his jaw. "You don't understand yet, bitch!? You should listen to your master!"

Out of nowhere, literally out of nowhere, you just felt how he threw you to the marble floor of the shower, taking you by the hips so that you were on all fours, and without caring or prior foreplay, his really hard cock entered you making you gasp. His pelvis crashed against your ass as his hand squeezed your hips, moving back and forth in your soaked pussy.

"fuck...yes...fuck you you fucking bitch"

The amount of vulgar things that came out of his mouth while he fucked you and although it hurt it felt so good, you also felt dirty and somehow denigrated, there was no way you could tolerate this...including how he talked to you, but shit it was It felt so good to be fucked by Kai Anderson.

You felt how his long hand gave you a hard slap on your ass cheek, making you moan even more, while your hands tried to hold on to the wet floor of the shower, he continued spanking you hard while you moaned, your legs clenching a little at the light pain and him, opening you up again to continue fucking you hard. "Fuck! Kai...it hur..."

You couldn't even finish when his pelvis slammed hard into you, his cock massaging the depths of your pussy as he released his hot seed inside you, making sure every last drop filled your womb. You could only feel pure bliss, dizzy and sweaty, not even managing to cum with him, just feeling your knees shake and what he whispered when he pulled his now soft cock out of you.

"I doubt you'll still be a vixen on Twitter after this...let's see if you'll still ask for feminist rights. Whore." And then, he spat at you and stood up, patting you on the ass before leaving, and yes, you were literally used though undoubtedly deliciously by him, now, you should make sure to block him on Twitter just in case.

Damn son of a bitch, but he was so sexy.

[spitblaze]

I had a sneaking suspicion already but Hobie Brown Spiderpunk really highlights how many of you people looooove the punk aesthetic and calling yourself and things 'punk' but either can't stand by or know absolutely nothing about the music or the ideology

[isa-ah]

not to beat a dead horse bc I know I've said this a thousand times already but totk sucked. there was nothing to work with after it ended. by this time in botw content circles it was ramping UP. it went for YEARS with elaborate theories and videos and an entire secondary canon built by theorists and fans. when was the last time you saw someone talk about totk? how much positive discussion have you seen about the story, ever? theories, world building, etc? anything at all?

[possamble]

^ guy who played too much pathfinder kingmaker and dragon age inquisition and can't stop thinking about laios looking at a project with three cards of marcille, kabru, and yaad respectively to choose from

[rigelmejo]

The only language studying advice I’ve got that matters much, as in isn’t take or leave (because most advice really depends on the person and their preferences for how to study), is this:

if you study for enough cumulative hours, and are regularly spending study time on some new material that is requiring you to learn something (compared to picking 1 study material and reviewing it but never ever moving onto a new material with unknowns you must learn), you will make progress. 

Most people, eventually, will move onto studying something regularly challenging them with new material to learn. Usually when they realize they weren’t learning anything new long enough. (I’m a perfectionist so I perhaps realize slower than some people when I’m reviewing material to the point of refusing to move onto new challenging material that would provide more to new stuff to learn). So for the most part, as long as you just study Enough Hours, you will eventually make progress. 

There’s no fancy perfect or ‘better’ study method. Maybe there is for you personally. So it could be fun to explore various study methods. But in the end it mostly comes down to time spent studying. So WHATEVER study methods are ones you can do, and keep getting yourself to do, are the BEST ones for you to make progress with. (And its fine to change study methods if it gets you to KEEP studying). Because in the end, its going to be hundreds or thousands of hours you just need to spend reviewing what you’ve learned by practicing with it, and studying new stuff to increase what you know.

People like to argue sometimes that textbook study is best, or classroom study, or tutors, or immersion, flashcards, mnemonics, context learning, drills, audio lessons, etc. Pick whatever you can stick to, change it if you realize now you can get yourself to Do something else easier. If textbooks are something you get yourself to do, then do them. If you refuse to open textbooks you buy, then use something you WILL use more often. Whatever you pick will work if you put in the study hours. 

TLDR: the best study methods for YOU are the ones you will do, because the amount of total study time you put in is the biggest thing influencing if you make progress. 

Don’t worry too much about if your study method is perfect or if another would be ‘better.’ If you feel like switching it up, have fun. If you feel a method you’d hate looks effective, if you won’t do it then it wouldn’t be effective anyway.

*Note: if you have perfectionist tendencies or tend to stick to trying to master current materials (my worst tendency), my personal suggestion is maybe try to make sure 50% of your study time is spent on something containing Something new and challenging. To make sure you’re regularly making some progress in learning new material. (Examples: if you have read a graded reader then listening to the audiobook would provide at least 1 new thing to challenge yourself and learn - listening skills of those words you read, if you find a new novel chapter with mostly known words but a few new ones - it has some new words to learn and new sentences combinations of words you know, if you are listening to review of something you entirely know and can comprehend in listening then consider trying to shadow the audio so you can challenge yourself with new pronunciation practice, and of course stuff like reading a book/watching a show with a bunch of new words or having a conversation in a new topic would contain new challenging material to learn). 

[keelanrosa]

terfs when a study shows literally anything positive about trans people/transitioning: 'hm i think this requires some fact-checking. Were those researchers REALLY unbiased? Because if they were biased this doesn't count and if they weren't knowingly biased they probably were unconsciously biased, woke media affects so much these days. Have there been any other studies on this? Because if there haven't been this could be an outlier and if there have been and they all agree that's a bit odd, why aren't there any outliers, and if there have been and any disagree we really won't know the truth until we very thoroughly analyze them all, will we? Were there enough subjects for a good sample size? Did every single subject involved stay involved through the whole study because if they didn't we should be sure nothing shady was going on resulting in people dropping out. Are we 110% sure all the subjects were fully honest and at no point were embarrassed or afraid to admit they didn't love transitioning to the people in charge of their transition? Are we 110% sure none of the subjects were manipulated into thinking they were happy with their transition? In fact we should double-check what they think with their parents, because if the subjects and their parents disagree it's probably because they've been manipulated but their cis parents have not and are very unbiased. How many autistic subjects were there because if there weren't enough then this doesn't really study the overlap between autistic and trans and if there were too many then we just don't know enough about what causes that overlap to be sure this study really explains being trans and isn't just about being autistic. How many AFAB subjects were there because if there weren't enough this is just another example of prioritizing AMAB people and ignoring the different struggles of girls and women and if there were too many how do we know sexism didn't affect the results. Was the study double-blinded? We all know double-blinded is the most reliable so if this one wasn't that's a point against it even if the thesis literally physically could not be double-blinded. Look i'm not being transphobic, i want what's best for trans people! Really! But as a person who is not trans and therefore objective in a way they cannot possibly be, i just think we should only take into account Good Science here. You want to be following science and not being manipulated or experimented upon by something unscientific, right?'

terfs when they see a study of 45 subjects so old it predates modern criteria for gender dysphoria and basically uses 'idk her parents think she's too butch', run by a guy who practiced conversion therapy, 'confirmed' by a guy who treated the significant portion of subjects who didn't follow up as all desisting, definitely in the category of 'physically cannot double-blind this', completely contradicted by multiple other studies done on actual transgender subjects, but can be kinda cited as evidence against transitioning if you ignore everything else about it: 'oOOH SEE THIS IS WHAT WE'RE TALKIN BOUT. SCIENCE. Just good ol' unbiased thorough analysis. I see absolutely no reason to dig any deeper on this and if you think it's wrong you're the one being unscientific. It's really a shame you've been so thoroughly brainwashed by the trans agenda and can't even accept science when you see it. Maybe now that someone has finally uncovered this long-lost study from 1985, we can make some actual progress on the whole trans problem.'

[hella1975]

Hi hella! I love love your writing and have done so for years and liked your posts but above all else I am a social media lurker at heart. But I wanted to tell you that following you for so long I’ve seen you go off to college and strike out on your own. Your self reflection and how you move through your life is so inspiring. I feel like your proud distant auntie sometimes cheering you on from afar. Growing up and going through school and into your adulthood is so confusing and frustrating and depressing sometimes but I’m a bit on the other side now and can tell you you’re doing so well. Absolutely killing it and it’s a privilege to read about. Your openness often has me reflect on my own life! I appreciate you bestie 🫶

reading this was genuinely so emotional BESTIE WHAT THE HELL

[unproduciblesmackdown]

similar to the greentext stuff - i was visiting with my neighbors and their grandkids were around, and I said to this eight year old, "Hey, you wanna know something cool? I was playing the game when the Endermen came out." and his eyes went wide, like this kid looked like i told him i landed on the moon. His grandma thought it was really funny, and she said she has no idea what i'm talking about, but her grandbabies do, and that's incredible to her.

oh that's fun lmao, when minecraft & that update's existed for more than your whole life, and yknow being that young and like Next Year fr is this huge time scale away, a couple of years is a quarter of your life thus far and like maybe nigh half of the part of your life you actually have longterm memories for....i was checking out this dev's blog's archives about a:tdd's release in 2010 & in one entry they compared the implicitly Roughly concurrent release of Minecraft and i was like hey whoah. forever primarily being a game i've Heard Of more than any more direct exposure so i had no precise sense of [before minecraft release] [after minecraft release] Year 0 there but it's like for sure back in thee day when minecraft was a new thing, huh

[astro-b-o-y-d]

I think transmascs will truly have rights the day this website stops hailing Ozma as a trans woman icon and recognizes him for what he really was; a boy forced into detransitioning back into a girl because ‘it wasn’t honest for him to take the throne as a boy’ or whatever that bullshit was in the writing.

[toastsnaffler]

i keep getting irrationally miffed at ppl 😐😐

[akemitime]

Canon por qué Miami me lo confirmó