#then there’s this sarcastic comment someone makes on a post to someone implying Will could be a number w powers

[chirpsythismorning]

Someone on Reddit predicted twelvegate 6 years ago so yeah I’m gutted

[inhuman-obey-me]

Thinking about Lilith and why she brought her lover back with the divine fruit. Cause for all intents and purposes they probably would've just gone to heaven. I mean, if anything Lilith would just have to scoop up their soul and up to heaven they go. But, what if the way her lover died was so horrible and grievous that Lilith panicked and brought down the divine fruit. what if this is the first time Lilith saw someone die.

There are a few parts to this, but as a quick first clarification -- Lilith would not be scooping up anyone's soul haha. We know there are reapers, such as Thirteen, and their job is to scoop up the souls and...well, it's not exactly clear what happens to the souls from there.

(Nightbringer spoilers through Lesson 12 below the cut)

Of course, presumably they should be going to heaven/hell, but we've never actually had that confirmed, beyond a sarcastic comment from Lucifer implying that death would mean going back to the Celestial Realm. But for all we know, the Celestial Realm could be for only angels to live in, with "heaven" for dead souls being something completely separate and inaccessible to them. Or, oddly enough for what seems to be a mostly Christianity-based universe, there's also been at least one mention of rebirth -- though again, that's not actually explained in depth, so that could be something exclusive to immortals?

As to whether this is the first time Lilith has seen someone die, another slight clarification -- her lover had not actually died yet when she brought the fruit. What happened was that he fell gravely ill and was going to die, and the fruit essentially stopped that illness, preventing his death rather than bringing him back from the dead.

Now, with those things clarified, we think she was probably familiar with the concept of death, but yes, it would make sense that this is the first time someone she personally cared about was going to die. And from what we can tell, souls don't just chill in the Devildom or Celestial Realm after death with the demons and angels. Thinking back to the times MC has been sent back to the Celestial Realm of the past, MC is just assumed to be a lost angel each time, and the possibility of being a dead human's soul doesn't even occur to any of them. When Belphie thinks that MC seems to be a human, his brothers immediately dismiss the idea outright.

Considering that, it seems supported that the Celestial Realm, or at least where the angels live, is only for angels, not dead souls, and likely vice versa. That being the case, the death of Lilith's lover would have been very much like death as we humans understand it -- gone forever, apart from us. Furthermore, Lilith is an immortal angel, so unlike when we imagine that souls may meet again after death, she would never die like a human, and thus would never go to that same post-death place! So rather than thinking of it as him being in the Celestial Realm with her, it may have been more like they would never meet again.

However, it may actually be overcomplicating things to try to think all the post-death stuff through. At the end of the day, it is simply not easy to watch someone you love die from illness. It's a very natural reaction to want to help them. It could very well just be that Lilith hated seeing someone she loved suffering in pain from this illness, knew she had the power to do something about it, and chose to go ahead and do it, consequences be damned. Like, at this point, we have seen her described as someone who was unafraid of anyone, to a strange and arguably borderline stupid extent -- this is the same angel who just bluntly told Michael to his face that he reminded her of a jellyfish. She was bold.

Considering that aspect of her personality, it would make total sense if she simply decided that she wasn't afraid of the potential consequences from their father and just did what she wanted, which was to save her beloved.

In an interesting bit of hypocrisy, however, we did learn in Nightbringer Lesson 12 that Lilith, like Solomon, actually argued that humans were better than they were given credit for, and that angels and demons shouldn't be interfering with them!

With that in mind, it's highly ironic that her downfall was actually for directly interfering with a human's life for the sake of extending it. Though, did Solmare think that fully through before deciding that she shared that view? Who knows.

[codychristiantreasures]

Worked up

For the few that still read Cody writings

This idea popped into my head and I just kinda ran with it

18+

Warnings: talks of sexual activity, implied sexual activity, making out, taking clothes off, the word “hell” is used. Let me know if I missed any!

You’re sitting on set, scrolling through your phone. You wanted something to distract yourself from your nerves. You had an intimate scene to film with Cody and you have been nervous about it since you first read the script. You have had intimate scenes with Cody before but it never went any further than kissing. Now your characters have decided to take the next step and this is what the writers wanted. It wasn’t having to do the scene with Cody that made you nervous, you were very comfortable with him having been dating for the past 2 years. It was doing the scene in front of the crew. This was your first intimate scene and you had no idea if you would be any good, if it would be awkward having to act everything out, if you could make it believable. There were so many concerns running through your mind.

“Hey, are you ready? I think they want to get started soon.” You looked up to see Cody smiling at you. “Yeah, I think so. I want to get this over with.” You said with a nervous laugh. “Baby” he said while cupping your face “If you really don’t want to do this, let’s talk to the writers. I don’t want you to do anything you’re not comfortable with.” “No, I want to do this. I’m nervous as hell but I think it’s important for our character’s development. I also want my first intimate scene to be with someone I am 100% comfortable with.” You smiled and kissed his cheek. He looked at you with an unsure look. “I’m good, I promise.” You smiled and went over to let the directors know you were good to go.

Your legs are wrapped around Cody’s waist, arms around his neck. He has one hand on your back and the other on your thigh, holding you up. This part is fun for you, you get to make out with your boyfriend for work. As Cody makes his way over to the bed on the set that is meant to be your character’s room, you start to get a little nervous again because you know it’s really about to start. Cody feels you tense up a bit. Luckily it wasn’t enough for the camera to see so you two kept the scene going. Cody lays you down on the bed and gets on top of you. He kisses your neck and whispers “Pretend they’re not here. Close your eyes and imagine it’s you and me at home.” You close your eyes as he continues to kiss down your neck to your collarbone. He stops just long enough to take your shirt off then starts to kiss down your chest and to the waistband of your jeans. He takes your jeans off too, quickly taking a moment to take in how gorgeous you are. “I think we have to even out the playing field.” You say your line, in a flirty way. Cody smirks and takes off his shirt and pants too.

The next scene is you two under the sheets together. You’re lying in the bed, sheet covering your bare chest, completely zoned out. “Are you ready for the next scene?” A voice breaks you out of lala land. You blink a couple times and look over to see the director. “Yeah, I’m ready!” You say, actually excited for the next scene. “Great! Keep up the great work. That last scene was amazing. You two have great chemistry!” He says giving you a smile and walking over to Cody to see if he is ready too. Cody got into the bed next to you. Your head is on his chest, hand drawing mindlessly on his abs as your characters enjoyed the post coital bliss. “I know we were just as close as physically possible but somehow this moment feels more intimate.” You jokingly gasped “Is tough guy Theo going soft on me?” You said and smirked to yourself knowing he would probably make a sarcastic comment himself. “Soft for you? Never. Actually, I’m ready for round 2 if you are.” He said you looked up at him to see him wink and you couldn’t help but giggle at what he said. Cody rolled on top of you and started to kiss you again, implying that your characters were about to go for round two.

“How are you feeling about the scenes?” Cody asked as he sat in your trailer, waiting for you to finish gathering your things so you two could go home. “I’m actually really excited to see how they turn out on screen. I think the TW fanbase is going to love this new step our characters have taken together. I do want to thank you though. You helped ease my nerves and got me into the right mindset for the scenes. So thank you baby.” You said and leaned in to give him a kiss. “I’m so happy you’re happy with everything and I could make you feel comfortable.” He said giving you another kiss. “Now lets go home because those scenes got me really worked up and all that has been running through my mind since has been the image of you in that lingerie you were wearing.” Cody said, shifting in his seat a bit. “Say no more.” You grinned and you both left to go home.

[stars-n-spice]

WHUMPTOBER 2023 // Day 02

AAAAA <-- the sound of someone who hasn't written anything in months.

Anyways, I've always wanted to do Whumptober or something along the lines but October is always the busiest month of the year for me (for some goddamn reason) so I never got around to it.

However, because of my stupid writer's block, I'm forcing myself to at least TRY to attempt some of these prompts and I couldn't skip out on this one because it was perfect for Khea.

I cannot believe that this is the first thing I'm posting for Khea here, I have like a whole fic planned for her and other one shot shit, but whatever. I love making my OCs suffer >:) Enjoy!

Title: Pirur ti Kyr'am (Sometimes, Mistakes) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alcohol Withdrawal, Hallucinations, Delirium Summary: "Sometimes Khea Nultez makes mistakes. And how she copes with them is one even bigger mistake."

PROMPT: No. 2:  “I’ll call out your name, but you won’t call back." | Delirium | “They don't care about you.”

In her lifetime, Khea Nultez had made plenty of mistakes, some more life-altering than others, and was no stranger to dealing with the consequences that flowed so freely from them. If one was going to make the mistakes that she did, then it was only fair that they were prepared and willing to deal with the consequences that were to follow. Only, her way of dealing with her mistakes was a mistake within itself. 

Bottle after bottle. Shot after shot. Drowning in clear, burning, sweet liquid when the others weren’t looking. She’d go to a cantina, late after missions, she’d swipe the bottle from behind Cid’s counter, or replace the water in her canteen with something stronger. 

 That’s how she dealt with her mistakes. With one, bigger, damning mistake. 

However, for the past three days, she’d been without a drink. A mission gone sideways left her and the rest of the Bad Batch stranded in the jungle with few supplies, low rations, and no way to get off-world until the Havoc Maurader could be fixed. Tensions were running high as the hours went on and little progress was being made to the ship and Khea found herself a tad bit more irritable and agitated than normal. She’d snap at the others, complain about the humidity and the sunlight, and make unhelpful and sarcastic comments that did little to help the already terrible mood. The others brushed it off as best they could, relating it back to it just being ‘that time of the month,’ and did their best to ignore the difficult, moping Khea. 

Well, all but Wrecker who continued to check up on her, worried about his girlfriend’s well-being, and Omega who, perceptive as always, seemed to think there was something else at play. 

By the second night, things just got worse for Khea. Late into the night, she awoke with chills after a particularly vivid nightmare involving an individual from her past, only to find out she was running a high fever that all but added to the tension between the team. Wrecker and Omega were both concerned, the former who nearly went into a panic thinking Khea was going to die, while a very frustrated Tech and Echo tried to deal with the sick, grumpy Khea who refused to take any medicine for a good twenty minutes before finally giving in. Meanwhile, Hunter just watched from a distance, sensing something that put his hair on end and made him tense. He wasn’t sure what it was, but all he knew was that he had a bad feeling about all of this. 

“This is kriffing bantha poodoo,” Khea groaned, her face scrunched in pain as Echo dabbed a wet cloth on her forehead, “I never get sick.” She smacked her lips, disliking the taste of the medicine still lingering in her mouth. 

“There’s a first time for everything, Khea,” Echo sighed, his tone soft and laced with concern as he folded the cloth before resting it on her forehead, “Get some rest.” 

She grumbled in response, her eyebrows furrowed as Echo moved away from her bunk, leaving her in the dark with a worried Omega and Wrecker at her bedside. 

For the next few hours, Khea was still stuck in bed, resting. Her fever was still running high despite the medications provided by Tech, but the hope was that by getting some well-needed and deserved rest she’d be able to recover soon. They’d stripped her of her armor, leaving her in her kute, with the sleeves rolled up as far as they could go and the front unzipped just enough so that she wouldn’t be too hot despite her body chills making her feel like she was freezing cold. 

Omega, having been trained by Nala Se, made sure to keep tabs on Khea while she slept. She changed the damp cloth intermittently and occasionally took her temperature to see if anything changed. Wrecker stayed by Omega’s side, helping where he could, until his assistance was needed back outside the ship with Tech and Echo who were still trying to fix everything soon so they could leave that jungle hellhole as soon as possible. That left Hunter to watch, going back and forth between his brothers outside and the girls inside, making sure things couldn’t get any worse. 

But when did things ever get better for any of them? 

As Omega was changing Khea’s cloth, she noticed how Khea’s mouth was twitching. Concerned and curious, Omega frowned and tilted her head before noticing it was because Khea was muttering something under her breath and her eyebrows were furrowed while she clutched her pillow a little tighter than before. 

Looking up from Khea, Omega’s eyes met Hunter’s. Immediately, the leader’s eyes widened slightly in understanding and he quickly walked over, concern etched into his rugged features. 

“Uh, Hunter?” Omega frowned, pointing at Khea.  

Hunter nodded as he moved to Omega's side, “Yeah, I sense it too, kid.” 

Something was wrong. 

READ THE REST ON AO3!!

[birdofmay]

FAQ:

Frequently Asked Questions (medical and personal)

Autism levels, support needs, severity, and terminology:

"Master-master post" about autism and terminology

Archive:

Words for when you suddenly can't speak anymore (based on suggestions; list is closed now)

What is receptive language disorder?

Why people still talk about "severity" in autism (double link)

Nonverbal/nonspeaking masterpost

Communication with autistics who are nonverbal "from birth"

Functional communication doesn't mean that you are able to self advocate

Support Needs and Support Levels masterpost

What trying to reclaim the R slur when you don't have ID implies (the reblog)

I use "severe" as a self-descriptor because that's what I was diagnosed with and therefore that's what people always refer to me as. I use it to indicate that my symptoms are different from most autistics on Tumblr and that I probably can't relate to most "extremely relatable autism posts" on here. I would never(!) force a label on someone, it's solely for myself.

You'll find my tag system and other things under the cut:

1. If I ever use too complex language for you, please tell me! 

Writing TL;DRs and finding simpler ways to express myself is actually good for my language comprehension skills, so we’d both benefit! I think in pictures, not in words. Writing is like a jigsaw puzzle of things I once read, so if my language is complex it’s because the text jigsaw puzzle was. Reformulating things and finding new words for the pictures in my head could improve the ability to express myself :)

2. I don't expect anyone to "read between the lines" and extract "hidden meanings" here! I make it clear when I'm sarcastic or joking, and I will explicitly tell you when I want you to know that I'm angry or annoyed! ☝🏼In case I forget that, it's never your fault if you didn't get it, it's mine because I promised to make it clear but didn't.

3. I turn notifications off for bigger posts - if you want me to see a comment, tag me! (Edit: I was told that you don't see tags from muted posts either... So if you want me to see a comment, DM me!)

4. Radfems kindly don't follow - your beliefs contradict the beliefs of most of my followers in a way that I think at some point you'll simply start attacking each other and I wouldn't want that. Especially for those who are higher support needs. I think you'll understand that. I mean most of your beliefs contradict most of MY beliefs as well, but I simply don't engage in that, I have radfem content blocked.

5. Transableds, you shouldn't have the fact that you're transabled (for example transautistic) in your profile when following me, because I block people posting about that.

6. Don’t take it personally if I don’t follow back, it doesn’t mean that I don’t like you! There are so many people I’d like to follow back, but if I did my dash would be full of posts I’m not interested in...... Maybe that’s an autism thing too. Sometimes I follow “regulars” back after a while because I got used to them. And then the first thing I do is spending hours (hyperbole) blocking tags or words so that I don’t have to see 100 video game posts... 😄

7. I don’t soft block people - but sometimes I want to block a bot and mix up usernames... So if it should ever happen that you used to follow my blog, but suddenly realise you don’t anymore: That was an accident, feel free to re-follow! Kicking you off my follower list wasn’t me setting boundaries, it was me being absolutely confused! 😂

8. Tag system:

#anecdotes - positive posts about my family

#anon ask or #ask - block if you don't want to see my asks

#faq - exactly what it says: frequently asked questions. Better read it before you send an ask

#me trying to be informative - more or less informative posts about autism or other disabilities

#music tag - block if you don't like random talking about bands and tastes in music

#naughty post - sometimes I'll tell dirty jokes or something. Nothing explicit of course. In case you struggle with topics like that, block this tag

#not autism - block if you're only here for the autism stuff

#rambling - whenever I just want to write down a thought or situation and it's not really important

#sina's special interest - block if you don't like music theory and instruments like the piano

[milkandsnails]

victor after a mild inconvenience

---

EDIT (mini essay incoming): Looking back, this was likely seen as me poking fun at Victor's character himself for his obvious health problems, which wasn't my intention, and now ashames me deeply. If you knew me back when I posted about the novel, you'd likely recall how I objected greatly to opinions that reduced Victor to a mere monster or the only reprehensible character. I didn't enjoy the sense of schadenfreude that some people appeared to have regarding his severe mental and physical struggles. It was in part because, as a troubled 16-17 year old with their own mental and physical issues, I saw parts of my own pain and loneliness in his isolation and fixation on work over all else.

I will explain my flawed reasoning when making this post. I created it focused on the idea of his fainting and sickness as a general literary device Shelley continously used— à la the archaic trope of characters swooning excessively— to show a heightened response to situations of horror. The idea I was getting at is referenced here:

Unlike a straight faint, the literary swoon is never just a medical matter – it’s often the product of overwhelming feeling or the return of something repressed. Swooning has long been used by writers to dramatise moments of crisis, ecstasy and confusion, and the failure of language to express these extremes.

I was (poorly) making light of this as a frequent literary trope, not the actual character himself. A good deal of this is down to the fact we were simply taught this was the way to interpret his illness in our English Lit class at the time— as a device actively chosen by the author to heighten the Gothic themes of horror, in a way detatching these symptoms from the true constitution of the person who suffered them. His sickness, in this light, therfore was more equated to a literary method, rather than being rightfully rooted back into his actual character.

But teaching can still have questionable ideas or limited outlooks, so I should have reflected properly on what we were taught and come to my own conclusion.

This interpretation absolutely doesn't work when considering the post and my awful wording, and I deeply apologise. Even if this is a Gothic device Shelley used at points, and that some of Victor's illness could be attributed to natural reactions to hardship (such as at the beginning when meeting Walton), Victor still also shows signs of chronic health issues under a modern and understanding lens, more than any other character, so my original idea becomes invalid regardless.

I'm well aware of the way comments on Victor's health swerve into ableism, having been upset myself by terrible takes regarding his need for care during times of sickness— and the exaggerated, sarcastic tone used for this caption can easily be viewed that same way. Even if I had just broadened my joke to involve literary characters in general, who are otherwise able-bodied and healthy, rather than singling out Victor, it would have been clearer what my aim was. But nowadays, I would simply never make this sort of comment anyway.

So again, I'm sincerely sorry. This was almost 2 years ago; and 17-year-old me, despite not being a great deal younger, was a lot less mature and mindful at times! As someone who struggled mentally and had already developed my own chronic condition at that age, it was even more negligent of me to spread further bad-taste content about Victor's implied illness, unintentional as this interpretation was. I hope anyone who by chance sees this can accept my apology.

[reidgraygubler]

the threat is gone (spencer reid/reader)

Title: the threat is gone

Requested: yes, was a request someone sent to @imagining-in-the-margins, but I took it off her hands :) (Reader is being threatened by an unsub and is given safety instructions by reid that she disobeys out of boredom, so when the threat is over she tries to joke/lie/argue her way out of trouble but he’s in total dead serious fbi interrogation mode and calmly hauls her over his lap and doesnt stop til she’s crying hard and has told him everything and then he comforts her n from there whatever)

Couple: spencer reid/fem!reader 

Category: angst, slight smut (either way, minors dni)

Content Warning: swearing, dishonesty, being spanked (to the point of tears), aftercare, D/s dynamic, reader being a brat, usual criminal minds case stuff, post prison & post series!reid, implied age gap (10 years),  use of a safeword

Word Count:  3,901

Summary:  Spencer sends Reader to a safe house after she’s threatened by an unsub. Reader decides to take her fate in her own hands and leave the safety. When Spencer finds out what she did, there’s hell to pay

A/N: happy easter to those who celebrate! pom (aka @imagining-in-the-margins​ )posted this in her discord and said if someone had any ideas for this, we could have it. and i loved the request so i took it off her hands. also thank you to @newportonmymind for beta reading this for me!! thank you all so much for the support! i really do appreciate it. check out my masterlist!

{***}{***}{***}

“Anderson and a cop are going to take you to a safe house,” Spencer looked down at me. I shifted on my feet as I looked up at him. My heart was in my throat. I didn’t think this unsub was that bad. 

“I’m not going to a safe house, Spencer. Being here is probably the safest place I could be. By your side… With the team,” I stepped up to him as I grabbed his hands. He looked down at me, a certain frustration in his eyes. 

“His victims are too much like you. We’re not taking that chance, I’m not taking that chance. Do you understand?” Spencer’s voice was low as he spoke. I swallowed roughly as he placed his hands on my shoulders.

“Yeah, yeah, fine, I understand,” I scoffed and shrugged his hands off my body. Spencer looked at me, watching as I collected my belongings. 

“Please, just trust me,” his voice was soft. I looked up at him, putting my bag across my body. 

“Yeah, of course, Spence, I trust you, wholeheartedly,” I smiled at him. He didn’t believe me. Granted, I didn’t exactly believe myself either. Why would I? I’m being snappy and sarcastic, and dismissive to everything he said. “I’ll be safe. Anderson and a random cop will be with me. Do not worry,” I went up to him before pressing my lips to his. 

“It won’t be for long. We’ll be back home before you even know it,” Spencer smiled, resting his hands on my hips before kissing me again. “You’ll listen to me and Anderson, understand,” he kept his tone soft and quiet, but still held authority.

“Yeah, yeah! My life is now in his hands. I wholeheartedly trust you and Anderson,” I whispered as I kept my eyes on him. He looked down at me, his honey-like hazel eyes watching every detail on my face. Part of me wondered why he stared at me the way he did. Was he memorizing every little detail of my face, just in case something happened to me?  Nothing will happen to me, that’s the whole reason why he’s having me go to a safe house with Anderson. 

“I love you,” his voice wavered slightly with his words. It was clear he was trying to not let his emotions show, but was also obviously losing. 

“I love you too,” I smiled before pressing his lips to mine for the briefest moment.

“Sorry to interrupt,” a voice came from the doorway, forcing Spencer and I to part. I swallowed roughly before turning to look at the door, seeing Anderson leaning against the doorframe. “But we’re ready to go,” he looked between Spencer and me.

“I’ll see you soon,” Spencer lifted his hand to my face, gently holding my cheek in his large palm. I swallowed roughly and nodded. “And don’t forget your promise. Follow your orders, and be a good girl,” he whispered the last part so only I would hear it.

“Ye-yeah, yeah… We’ll see you soon,” I repeated what he said before kissing him one last time. As much as I didn’t want to, I stepped away from Spencer’s body and followed closely behind Anderson. The cop that was behind us held a jacket over my body to hide my identity and keep me hidden from anyone unsub. 

“We’re going to stop at your place before we go to the safehouse, so you can get some clothes, toiletries and other belongings,” Anderson looked over at me once we got settled in the car. I glanced over at him and nodded.

“Yeah, okay,” I swallowed roughly and nodded, “Will we be able to stop at a store too?” 

“Everything you should need, food and entertainment, should be at the safehouse when we arrive,” Anderson backhandedly answered my question. I furrowed my eyebrows as I stared at him.

The rest of the drive to the apartment was tense and silent. It was almost like we were in a library. Any sound or comment that was made, any breath that was breathed, felt wrong and I should be executed for it. But, that would kind of defeat the purpose of me going to this safehouse, right?

“Be quick, we only have a few minutes. We have to be on the road before dark,” Anderson looked at me as we both walked up the steps to the apartment complex. I glanced over at him and nodded lightly.

“Will do,” I nodded as I pulled out the keys and unlocked the building’s door. Anderson stayed standing outside the building, by the door, as I went inside.

The apartment that I shared with Spencer was a mess, but to be fair it was mostly Spencer’s mess. Books, papers and files scattered over any surface. And if there was an exposed surface, it was occupied by a coffee cup. At the office and on the road, Spencer is neat and organized, but at home, when his walls come down and once he’s in the zone, the organization goes out the window. Teaching tended to take a back seat; the papers that littered the room (and office and bedroom) consisted of papers he has/is supposed to grade.

I think the only organized room was our bedroom. Even though no one else ever entered that room, he always had it pristine. He knew where everything was, and if one thing was out of place or out of line, he’d know in an instant. We had come to a shared agreement that the bedroom was for bedroom activities only. If we could keep work stuff out of our room, we would. Our room was the only truly the only place we had control, hence the cleanliness and order of it.

I was quiet as I grabbed my backpack. Shoving my clothes into it, I muttered strings of profanities. Spending time in stupid safe house sounded like pure hell, absoulte boredom. Why would he think I would be okay at a safehouse? I could be useful at the office, and safer too. What’s safer than being with the team, not to mention with Spencer?

With a deep and resigned sigh, I threw the straps of my backpack over my shoulders. Anything to make Spencer happy, I suppose. I was a brat, but this didn’t seem like something to fight him on. 

I quietly exited my home and went back outside, where Anderson was still waiting. 

“Ready,” I looked over at him, feeling a fake smile grow across my lips. Anderson looked at me and nodded before taking the lead back to the cop car. I looked over at him and nodded as the car finally jerked forward and took off. 

If I thought the drive to the apartment was bad… The drive to the safehouse was worse. If I had known it was going to be a 1 hour drive, I would have fought harder. This time around, I could sense that Anderson was trying to make some sort of an effort to make me feel better about this situation. But it was clear it was a fail of an attempt too. He kept talking about the things he enjoyed rather than common interest, or small talk. Yes, Spencer could do the same, but at least his factoids were adorable or at least relevant.

I almost felt bad, because I had honestly stopped listening to everything he said. I’m not sure when I stopped listening, sometime around the time he started talking about baseball. I take back what I said about Spencer, this was far worse. I swear, I actually liked listening to Spencer ramble on and on when he info dumps. But Anderson… 

“Anderson,” I looked over at him, cutting him off as he spoke, “Please… For the love of God… I know you love baseball… But you have got to stop talking for five fucking minutes,” I took a deep breath as I stared at him. He looked back at me before closing his mouth and nodding. 

Thankfully, the rest of the drive was silent. I almost couldn’t believe how quiet it was. And, I almost couldn’t think of a time where it was silent for such a long period of time. I suppose in the moment I was thankful that things were turning out the way they were.

“Here’s your bedroom,” Anderson spoke cooly as we walked past a room. I looked over at him, feeling my exhaustion spread through my body. “Rest all you want. There’s some books that Spencer sent over that you could read. As well as movies you could watch,” he looked over at me. I looked back at him and nodded.

“I think I’ll do that… Everything that’s happened today… I’m exhausted,” I laughed nervously as I entered the room. Anderson looked at me and nodded, watching as I closed the door. I pressed my back to the door once it was shut, clicking it locked with a sigh. 

My eyes scanned across the bland room. It consisted of a bed, a night stand, a lamp, and a window. Of course, all safe houses are basically empty homes. Fake houses that looked lived in, when in reality they were nothing.

But then I looked back at the window… We were only an hour away from the apartment… Surely I could...

“Like hell I’m going stay in this stupid safe-house with Anderson,” I scoffed before rushing over to the window. I threw it open so fast I was worried I’d broken it. I didn’t have every step of my escape planned out, but I knew I had to get out of here. I knew I could think on my feet, so the spontaneity didn’t faze me.

I had to be quick as I had to make sure that Anderson didn’t clue into what I was doing. Because the second he knew that I wasn’t in the the safe house anymore, was the second Spencer knew, and then I’d be in big trouble -- worse than if the unsub were to catch me. 

“Okay, okay,” I whispered as I patted down my pockets, feeling for my phone and wallet, trusting that everything else that I needed would be in my bags. I’d be back by the end of this case. I wasn’t exactly running away, I was just getting away because this was stupid. The safest place I would have been in was with Spencer and the rest of the team. I knew that, and I knew Spencer just needed reminding that I was right.  

‘I wasn’t running away,’ I thought to myself as I looked out the window. It wasn’t a far jump. 3 yards at least. I wouldn’t get hurt by that, should I? 

I glanced over my shoulder, just making sure no one was watching me, before finally jumping out the window. I grunted when I landed on the ground. Then, I was off.

There was a coffee shop not far from the house. That was my destination. And then from there, I’d get an uber or taxi back home, or shopping, or someplace else. As long as I was away from danger, I was okay. 

I could feel a certain anxiety grow up my throat the further I got from the safe house. It wasn’t because I was afraid that I was going to get hurt. It was because of Spencer. I just wasn’t sure how he’d take to that news -- but I could take an educated guess. It was honestly a matter of time before I go-

Spencer Calling…

I stared at the screen, looking at the picture of Spencer and I at one of Rossi’s fabulous parties. I swallowed back my fear and anxiety, and took a deep breath of courage before pressing answer.

“Hel-”

“Where the hell are you!?” Spencer growled as his voice came through the speaker. Fear… Fear grew in the pit of my stomach, and it was hard to breathe. “I swear to God,”

“I’m fine! I’m safe…” I returned as my steps slowed on the sidewalk. I didn’t totally answer his question. I didn’t really want to tell him I was at a coffee shop 5 minutes away from the safe house. Because then he’d have Anderson on my ass in a second. 

“That doesn’t answer my question, and you know that,” Spencer snapped back. I froze in my tracks, my heart beating harder than I could control. “Where are you? Make me ask again and I won’t be nice,” 

“Spencer,” I started, my voice low and shaky, “I can’t tell you,” I shook my head. I could hear the breath of air that Spencer let out, and it only scared me more.

“If you’re not back at that safe house in 20 minutes, you will have the biggest punishment. Do you understand, Princess?” 

“I’ll be safe, Spencer,” I muttered. I stared at the ground for a long time as we both stayed silent. It was hard to say how long passed, but it was a while. “Bye Spencer,”

“If you hang up, I swear,” he started but I didn’t get to feel the end of it before I hung up. I swallowed roughly before continuing my trek towards the coffee shop as my phone buzzed continuously.

{***}{***}{***}

“Where were you again?” Spencer asked, just to ask. He didn’t forget. The man he is? He’d never forget. Especially something like this.

“Coffee shop and Library, I thought you would just have Garcia track me.” I mumbled as I waited for him to unlock the door. My stomach was slowly churning the longer he took to unlock the door. Although, I was okay with how slow he was. The slower he took, the longer I had before the punishment.

Spencer huffed out a breath of air and shook his head. I stared at him, watching as the door finally unlocked and was pushed open.

“Do you have any idea how irresponsible that was?! How… How much danger you were in?!” Spencer shouted as we both entered the apartment. I glanced at him as I made my way to the couch.

"C'mon, I was probably safer at the library and coffee shop anyways! Bastard knew I’d go to a safe house and our apartment," I shrugged as I flopped onto the couch. Spencer looked down at me like he was the parent reprimanding their disobedient child. Granted, that’s kind of how our dynamic was when we weren’t at work or it was a normal day. I do have to admit though, I was wrong for not going where he wanted me to.

"You directly disobeyed me. Do you have any idea how dangerous that was?! How could you be so reckless!? You have no idea how scared I was when I heard you weren’t at the safe house,” he shouted, but as he got closer to the end of his sentence, his words got quieter and his voice cracked. I looked up at him, the feeling of guilt suddenly eating away in my stomach. 

“I’m sorry… I don’t know what else you want me to say or do, Spencer…” I muttered before shrugging. I glanced at him as he stood on the other side of the coffee table. He rolled the sleeves of his shirt, quietly muttering something as he went. “Spencer, look, I said I’m sorry… I’m home and I’m safe…” I watched him with anxiety bubbling in my stomach.

"You disobeyed me, put yourself in danger,," his voice was low as he stood up. I watched as he walked over. The hairs on the back of my neck were instantly standing, and I could feel goosebumps grow all over my arms. “Sorry just isn’t going to cut it,” he looked down at me. I looked up at him, and I knew exactly what he was about to do. So my next question was redundant.

"Wh-what are you doing?" I looked up at him. My heart was suddenly in my stomach as he lowered to my height. I tried to look anywhere but him, but that was hard when he placed his finger under my chin, coaxing me to look at him. I tried my hardest to not look up at him, but it was so hard to not look at him. He was right there and he was my favorite person to look at. But, to be fair, when he was mad it made me a little nervous.

"Well, you decided to go and break my instruction. And you know what happens to little girls who disobey their rules," he kept his voice low as he spoke. I dropped my gaze to my lap as he sat beside me. A shiver shot down my spine as I locked eyes with him… In that moment, I knew I was done for...  

"Wait, Spencer," I exclaimed as he grabbed me by the waist and pulled me so I was lying across his lap. I lifted my head and looked up at him with wide eyes “Spencer! Spencer! Wait! Please!” I struggled as I squirmed in his lap. I wanted so badly to just slide out of his arms, but the way he held me made it damn near impossible to slide away from him.

“I’ve asked for an explanation and you didn’t provide one,” he spoke cooly. He kept his hands on my back, and not going any lower than my hips. I took a moment, struggling to breathe as I thought of why I left the safe house and Anderson. 

“I was just bored, okay? I was bored. And thought it was stupid that you had me leave the office and the team to go to a safe house,” I tried to wiggle from his grip again, but failed when his hold on me tightened. I swallowed roughly, hoping my truth telling would work, but I had a feeling it wouldn’t.

“Is this the truth?” Spencer asked, his tone somewhat overly nice. I bit my lips together and nodded lightly.

“It’s the truth, I swear, Spencer, it’s the truth,” I whispered. I knew telling the truth would lessen the harshness of his punishment. And, maybe it would. He does know when to be gentle.

“I’m happy you gave me the truth. But that still doesn’t mean it was okay to disobey me, you know that, don’t you Princess?” he whispered as he brushed down my hair. I let out a deep sigh before reluctantly nodding. 

“I know,” It was inevitable at this point. I owned up to my mistake, and now I need to own up to the punishment. And I knew exactly what was going to happen. 

“I’ll go easy on you, okay?” He kept his voice low. He knew if his voice was any louder, I’d instantly back away from all of this. “I think ten strikes is appropriate... Do you agree?” 

I would rather have less, and Spencer knew that too.  But if I argued he’d only add more. Which was worse than the ten he already offered. I knew that after he’d be okay and it’d be over with.  Fuck, I already wanted it to be over.

“Yes, sir,” I sighed deeply. I lifted my hips enough for him to pull my pants down over my bottom. My chest tightened as I tried to take a deep, shaky breath as I anticipated the first strike. 

My ears could just barely pick up the soft rush of air from Spencer’s hand before it landed hard against my bottom. I took a sharp breath of air and dropped my head down to the cushion.

“One…” I whispered as my hands gripped his pants tightly. I swallowed roughly as I tried to steady my breathing. Spencer gave me a moment to breathe before giving me two and three in a quick go. Four came after a brief moment. But then… Five was when it started getting shaky for me. Tears had started rolling on my face between three and four, but it didn’t start becoming trouble till five.

“Five! I understand! I swear! I’m sorry!” I cried out once his hand connected hard with my ass for the 5th time. And, okay, that one hurt, like a lot. I couldn’t tell if it was the sting that hurt, or the repeated assault on the sore spot… But I knew it hurt. With each strike, I could almost feel Spencer’s anger and anxiety. I definitely felt bad about doing what I did.

I don’t know if I’ll make it to ten...

“Just five more,” Spencer spoke softly as his hand carefully massaged my butt-cheek. I could tell he started feeling bad. But, we both knew he had to follow through with it. 

His hand whizzed through the air and smacked against my ass. A loud crack came through the air, and a sharp gasp fell from my lips. And, that was it. I definitely don’t think I’ll make it to ten. This was it. 

“Buttercup!” I shouted as my eyes snapped open. I could still feel the tears burning down my cheeks. Before Spencer could make contact for the 7th time, he stopped. He kept both his hands away from my body as I moved away from him. With that, we were both silent for a minute, as I tried to recalibrate my breathing. 

Spencer looked over at me, sensing his sudden change in demeanor. His anger and anxiety was gone and replaced with a guilty panic. The atmosphere changed.

“Are you okay?” Spencer asked after a minute had passed. I was, painfully, sitting on the next cushion away from him. I needed my space. I bit my lips and nodded as I roughly wiped my cheeks. 

“I’m okay,” I whispered looking back at him. I watched as he slowly lifted his hands, offering both of them for me to hold. I stared at them for a while before just falling into his sigh, a shaky breath, almost a sob, going through my body.

“I got you; you’re ok, you’re safe. I was so worried. You have to understand how dangerous it was for you to just leave like that. I thought I was never going to see you again,” Spencer whispered, bringing a hand to run over my hair. I bit my lips and nodded.

“No, I know… I’m sorry for… I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you. I don’t even know… I should have just stayed at the safe house,” I whispered as I pressed my face into his shoulder. I felt as he let out a deep sigh and wrapped his arms around me, resting and hand on my lower back. 

I was happy he didn’t mention how I told him the truth a little bit ago. My body could feel the exhaustion from the whole day. It wasn’t just the punishment, or the little bit of arguing, or even the running away. It was everything combined. I needed sleep soon. Spencer knew that too.

“Why don’t we go into our room and cuddle,” he whispered as he continued stroking my hair. I sniffled lightly before laughing. Just like he was reading my mind. He knows me better than anyone. “I just want you safe in my arms.”

“Yeah, yeah, I think I’d like that a lot, actually,” I looked up at him. Spencer smiled at me before lightly pressing his lips to mine. 

if you want to be a part of a taglst or have any comments about this one shot, let me know here

taglist: @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto, @thebluetint

[vrishchikawrites]

About YZY leaving YMJ/JFM with her kids Post-WWX Arrival

Dear Dee, feel free to delete or ignore this or post it, whatever floats your boat. This just stuck in my head after those posts and I had to blurt it all to someone. Thanks for taking the time to read my word vomit.

So I had to do this instead of an ask because it got long and I wasn't sure how many asks it'd need or how short I could cut it down without losing parts of the argument. And then other things came up as I was writing and, well.  Well..... >_>;;;; 

But you know, after that post/ask you had about YZY fics saying 'Fuck U' to YMJ/JFM & leaving both with her kids, I had a sarcastic 'yeah right' attitude about it. Mainly due to a lot of negation emotions to such an abusive (and delusional) bitch, partly due to how she wouldn't do that since it doesn't seem to be something her sort of character would consider either because she'd think of it as 'losing' (losing what, IDK, it's why I consider her type of person crazy) or she legit wouldn't think about such a viable action.

But then later, in the shower, I seriously went 'Wait, she can't fucking do that' and it wouldn't be about how MXTX uses her as a part of the narrative but entirely about the/their culture in the novel; the actions that have and would be taken in response; and her entire toxic personality as well.

1) We already know that the sects and the cultivation world in general is sexist, elitist and so Capital T 'Traditional' to the point that it's starting to petrify and any deviancy from this is an exception rather than the norm. YZY might be a madame of a great sect (for what that's worth considering how shit of a madame she's been and the titles she's chosen for herself) but she's still a woman even with her high rank and the things she's personally accomplished.

Even if she was in her rights to leave a 'bad' marriage, she'd be the one who'd get scolded more instead of JFM by her natal family, her former husband's family and by their entire society at large even if she had a few singular supporters. Because That's Not How Things Are Done in their society and I do believe that such a thing was rare even when it was accepted method by the upper echelons. Especially since it would have to be done by more than YZY simply deciding that She Wants Out and just- goes and Gets Out. With no serious allegations that would allow her to divorce or separate from YMJ/JFM without the input from her family, JFM's family and, I think, possibly some measure of compensation as well. And no, having or bringing in a 'bastard child' is not a serious enough offence for such a humongous decision. I think something more along the lines of treason or crimes against multiple, high-ranking parties would be more along the lines. Maybe.

And even if she does this, she'd be considered 'Used Goods' (such a terrible comment) and there'd be no other good/proper marriage prospects for a divorced woman with children let alone a woman like YZY with her entire abrasive personality and attitude put off even easy-going JFM.

(If she'd been widowed then it'd be more forgiven but I consider that a Real Bad End since, IMO, it would lead to the sudden and inevitable decline of YMJ either via mass exodus of disciples and/or residents of LP; being merged with another sect due to it's unstable leadership; or create an internal political war 'cause I bet you anything that the YMJ Elders/relatives (if they have any) Would Not Want YZY in charge of YMJ when she's already proven herself such a shit betrothed let alone madame.)

2) Speaking of families, while YMJ/JFM/LP as a whole might be glad to see YZY's back, I don't think her natal sect, MSY, will be glad to see her come storming back after all the effort they put into getting that particular marriage alliance with YMJ. And if she brings her children with her? Oh man, oh boy- mother or not, that could be considered as kidnapping or line theft (is that a thing?) especially if YZY is also seriously considering divorce proceedings and raising them as Yu and not Jiang. That could give leave to, for anyone more unforgiving and maybe JFM if he's pushed enough, disown both JYL and JWY from the Jiangs through no fault of their own (though I'm sure YZY would make it so as well as blame JFM for her own decisions and mistakes).

Therefore, any inheritance or benefits they might gain for being legitimised children of a great sect are forfeited. JYL will likely lose that betrothal with JZX because JGS will drop it like a hot potato and JWY won't be a sect heir because YZY literally decided to remove that by deciding to raise JWY as a Yu, no matter their blood relation to JFM. They leave him, they leave YMJ and everything attached with it. Which is if YMJ/JFM doesn't demand MSY to give back their heir/ess and to punish YZY for her actions. Or send all three of them back for the appropriate reactions/decisions.

Their society would demand no less in reaction because, to them, it would seem like YZY had gone mad and JFM would look weak (or weaker) and imply that YMJ is vulnerable and exploitable if JFM doesn't do something in response to her actions. That's not even getting into what the other smaller sects may try to do in an attempt to curry favour with YMJ or what LLJ or QSW would try in order to destroy or diminish YMJ. And whether JFM chooses to demand his children back or not, it may not change the fact that this may give him reason enough to choose a nephew or niece to be the new sect heir especially if, even after getting rid of YZY's poisonous influence, JWY grows up to be his mother's child more than his father's or even his own person.

Either way, such a thing would bring great backlash on YZY, and MSY as well as the collateral. No one would want to give face to her or her children because it would bring up some very uncomfortable questions and scenarios to the other sects- specifically, what would happen if the female members of their clans/sets decided to follow the footsteps of YZY and leave with their children and heirs. Especially if they use it as an excuse to leave for their own comfort and whims and not some legitimate wrongs and dangers. That would create some more restrictions on women thanks to YZY

3) And lastly, if any one of those idiot YZY stans think that she'd ever give up the status of being a madame of a great sect they'd be as crazy or crazier than her. YZY is all about status and power and face. Specifically, her status, power and face and how people in her reach reflect her or 'insult' her. She is a selfish, terrible, abusive and toxic person and can only see people in regards to how they would benefit her and the elevation of her and in no other way. Especially her family. They cannot be their own person, they can only be an extension of her and gods forbid they go against her.

We can see this in how she treats the people she supposedly loves. JFM? Arguments day in, day out along with accusations and slander of cheating, having one(1) supposed 'bastard' and being 'in love' with CSSR. Which all seems sus as hell. And that's when she's actually there and not out 'night hunting'. Even her 'training' seems to border on unhelpful rather then helpful if my vague recollections of juniors fainting from exhaustion can be relied upon (please call me out if they're not or find proof).

JYL? Berated by not being 'strong' but not helped at all to be 'strong'. It doesn't help that YZY seems to believe in the same standards strength in their society- that is, of martial masculine strength which does not and should not apply to JYL who has been said to be sickly. Which means h should have been learning a different way of cultivation/fighting anyway.  If that was something she wanted and had been offered in the first place- which I doubt. That isn't even getting into her repeated generational trauma mess of a betrothal which was decided only by those 'sworn sisters', accepted by her as a way out of her terrible home life and puts her squarely within reach of JGS who we know to be a womaniser, rapist, predator and a possible ephebophile considering we don't know the exact age of his youngest 'conquest' or the age of MZY's mother when they met which could be anywhere from 14 to 21.

JWY? Gods, so much meta on him and his(non-) relationships with his parents that I don't think I can contribute more to it. It's been all said and done. Unless people want me to stir the pot by saying that, maybe, just maybe, YZY resents JWY as much as she 'loves' him.Either because he's her son and yet never manages to 'accomplish as much' as WWX or because he's a boy and therefore, more benefits and allowances than a girl/woman- more than anything that YZY ever got without either a fight or screaming at someone about. *shrug*

So, in conclusion to this sudden an unexpected essay that I wrote(I'm so sorry about that, I thought it would be shorter -.-;;;;), YZY leaving YMJ/JFM with her kids? Impossible. Not without some sort of personality transplant or a complete AU. She's too prideful, too bitter, too angry, too everything negative and little positive. She's a resentful product of the values and restraints of her society taken to the extreme negative with a willingness to inflict her pain on others to an abusive degree. But she's also too obsessed and reliant on those same values and restraints to keep up the image of her status. So her? Giving those up? You'd be more likely to see WRH as a doting grandfather than that.

---

Dee - All of this is true and yes YZY leaving YMJ is highly unlikely. While there will be consequences if she decides to leave, she does canonically lives separately from her husband. They seem to be in a situation where they are married but living separately, which was a common way to end a marriage (at least in spirit) back then. She essentially had all the perks of being Madam Jiang but fulfilled none of the responsibilities.

Afaik, her training the Jiang disciples is a donghua thing? I may be wrong but I recall she spent most of her time nighthunting.

As for taking her children along with her- that's completely impossible. At that point, children were the property of the father. She could leave but she would've never been allowed to take JC.

[ironmandeficiency]

falcon, falcon, goose!

pairing: sam wilson / reader

word count: 3547

summary: there were reports of geese leading people to their soulmates spanning centuries, and it seemed like a cool concept, but why did it have to coincide with you coming out of your writing slump?

warnings: cursing, geese, dumbassery, implied happy au where the avengers get along, iw and endgame who?

a/n: this is an older piece i wrote a couple years ago, decided to brush it up and repost it. and the reader works for snl bc why the hell not? keep in mind that the original was written before everything went to shit w iw & endgame. posted from mobile yet again yall what is wrong w me

it was a sunny day outside, and deciding that you had been cooped up for far too long, you brought your laptop to the park a couple blocks from your studio apartment.

being a writer for saturday night live wasn't always so peachy, what with the lack of a social life outside of your co-workers and constantly explaining your job to confused relatives. you had been in a slump for the past couple weeks, the fact most of your sketch ideas not making the cut for the next episode continuing to throw you off your rhythm.

this week, you were going to change that. Your headphones were playing your concentration playlist full volume and you were hyped to the max. with your laptop on the picnic table in front of you and a warm cup of tea beside it, you were ready to blow the producers away with your next idea.

"honk! honk!"

you felt something nudge your leg, but you were too engrossed into what you were typing to care. after getting through a few more lines, it happened again.

"honk! honk! honk!"

you couldn't hear the sound but the feeling on your leg got a little bit rougher, more demanding. you moved your headphones to the side for a minute and took a moment to look around you. there was no kid running to get their ball back or any squirrels nearby that dropped a nut.

strange.

but you put your headphones back on, trying to keep your groove alive while hoping the interruptions are finished.

"HONK! HONK! HONK!" the goose honked louder, pecking at your leg harder than it had earlier.

you were getting frustrated and a little pissed. the creativity was flowing through your veins for the first time in what felt like ages and this — whatever it was — decided that today was the best day to annoy you.

you kicked your legs out with a strange flail and when you came into contact with something large and solid you nearly screamed.

"ow! motherf- oh my god!"

standing on the ground beside your table was a goose. it honked yet again with impatience (geese could do that?) and nipped lightly at your thigh closest to it. looking to the pond nearby, it was nearly an entire gaggle of the damned things.

so here was this goose honking at you and nipping at you like you were supposed to know what the hell it wanted from you.

"i don't have any bread, dumbass. go find someone else to bother." thinking it would leave if you ignored it, you turned away and continued your work.

"HONK! HONK!" it continued to honk and decided to peck you before flapping its wings, landing itself on the table next to your computer.

"get outta here, ya damn goose!" while you were trying to shop it away, it expertly evaded you. "go! shoo! leave me alone!"

it just stayed over on the bench, expertly dodging your attempts to get it to leave.

a few people nearby had heard your altercation with the infernal bird. one of them was an older gentleman that laughed as he sat across from you, the mirth in his eyes glinting as you give him a sarcastic side eye while trying to deal with the current issue.

"that bird won't leave you alone, you know." At his voice, the goose calmed down and waddled a few feet away from your arm's reach.

that was the first time the thing had been seemingly calm since he showed up at your little table.

"what do you mean he won't leave me alone?"

he pauses, part of him enjoying the irritation in your tone. he remembers someone talking to him like he was to you many years ago, and it made his heart smile at the idea of repaying the favor. "have you ever read about soulmate geese?"

"hey we're gonna go for a run, wanna join?" steve’s offer was given with a smirk. ever since reuniting with bucky, the two supersoldiers found so much humor in doing laps around sam every time they went out jogging.

it annoyed the shit out of him, the "on your left" comments from steve and the newer "on your right" jabs from bucky, but it also pushed Sam to work harder during his runs. ultimately he knew his non-enhanced body didn't stand much of a chance beating them, but he enjoyed when he was able to close the gap between their times just a little bit.

"sure, just gimme a few to eat breakfast and I'll join you guys." the blond nodded and turned back to the elevator, having woken up far earlier than sam and therefore already ate.

he hummed otis redding as he laid the bacon flat into the pan, shoulders moving along with his created rhythm while changing the grounds in the coffee filter. this was how he spent most of his mornings, barring the occasional hangovers and missions where he couldn't afford the distraction.

he ate, got dressed, and told FRIDAY to let bucky and steve know he was ready to go. h had his water bottle in hand, giving his body a pep talk in preparation for the run. they met in the common room and soon, the trio was off.

"on your left!"

"on your right!"

"oh, come on!"

he knew it was gonna happen, but for some reason it felt like it happened sooner than normal. either they were trying really hard to mess with him today, or he was off his game. but regardless, he pushed his body harder than he probably should have because when there was something obstructing his path, he didn't pause. no, he charged it straight on through and fell hard.

steve and bucky had seen this from a distance and immediately rushed to get to their friend.

sam rolled onto his back, exhausted and now in terrible pain from the fall. he closed his eyes and just let it all sink in. when he opened his eyes at the sudden foul smell flooding his nostrils, he could feel the palpitations, thinking he was about to have a heart attack.

"holy shit!" sam sat up like a rocket despite the way his body was throbbing from the fall.

the goose stared at him curiously and turned its head toward the pounding footsteps from the approaching brooklynites.

"sam! What happened?" steve was concerned, inspecting sam while bucky noticed the bird. The brunet bent down to meet the goose eye-level and was somewhat surprised that it didn't run away at the close proximity.

"did you trip the dumbass? was it your fault sam landed on his face? Huh, little guy?"

"honk! honk!"

"i thought so. good job, man." bucky pats the animal on the head gently before turning to help steve get sam off the ground.

"nothing’s broken but there's probably a sprain, can't really be sure until we get to cho." sam and bucky lift their friend from the pavement and they have no problem supporting his weight.

they began the walk back to the tower in silence. well, almost silence. there was a faint pitter-patter of tiny, webbed feet behind them that sam and bucky weren't paying attention to.

steve noticed the goose slowly waddling behind the trio and looked at sam with a smile. sam responded to steve’s happy face with a glare, not enjoying any of the situation he found himself in.

"look behind us, guys."

both men took turns looking behind them and see the goose waddling behind them patiently. sam wasn't particularly happy about the culprit from moments before trailing behind him, but bucky thought it was hilarious.

"do you know what this means?"

sam rolled his eyes because he thought the blond was about to make some sort of poetic comment about one thing for another.

bucky had paused to think about the implications of a random goose for a moment before gasping. "dude," bucky nudged sam softly, being conscious of his friend's injuries. "you’re gonna meet your soulmate, man!"

"a soulmate goose. man come on, are you out of your mind?"

"steve got his goose back during the war, i think we know enough about it."

sam had only heard vague reports of soulmate geese throughout his life, but now that he thought about it, it did make sense. the goose showed up randomly in the middle of his routine, completely throwing him off, and was now refusing to leave him alone.

"well if this is my soulmate goose, then somebody’s gotta tell tony about our newest avenger." they laughed at the implication, viciously eager to witness tony’s reaction to the newest resident of avengers hq.

it has been three days of dealing with your goose, and you were now teased at work as “bird brain”, walking into your office to see several loaves of bread covering the desk. your goose, that you had named piper once you got home, was excited at the prospect of more food, but you planned on donating most of the bread to local shelters, only keeping a couple loaves for the house.

the guest host that week was mick jagger, and he had emerged into the room “i dream of jeanie” style, startling both you and piper, who honked at him in irritation.

it was time for you to work on the song for your little sketch with him, and you had only two more days before performance night (it was thursday) to finish writing it. after settling down and getting into the right mindset, the writing process had begun.

"alright let's see," mick murmured. "let’s all go to the picnic, let's all have a drink. what rhymes with 'drink'?"

you thought for a moment and said quietly, "think?"

you weren't prepared for the absurd response you received from the man, his accent making him round mean as he barked out a loud "NO!" with an unnecessary hand gesture.

piper just about lost it. she was honking and flapping around your office in a tizzy (but staying away from mick because the man was seen as a stranger she wasn't comfortable with).

you racked your brain for another solution, something else to rhyme with 'drink' and you eventually found it: "sink?"

mick thought about it for a moment before replying with a much lighter "yes!" also paired with unwarranted pointing.

‘motherfucker, is this how you write songs?!'

thursday and friday came and went, and soon it was time for your piece to be performed by mick. du to an accidental ankle twist someone else suffered, you were forced to perform a skit live for the first time in your career. it would have been great, but there was one teensy problem: piper blatantly refused to leave your side when it was time to perform, and she would honk and bite anyone that tried to keep her from you onstage.

even poor bobby, who she had grown fond of, was taking the brunt of it. she was not allowing you to be more than a couple feet away from her, and it was almost endearing if you weren't being broadcast on national television.

apparently, piper would also be making her debut appearance on saturday night live tonight as well.

saturday had arrived, and it was sam’s day of rest. he spent the day doing the bare minimum, eating junk food and watching almost everything on netflix he could find.

he didn't stray too far from tradition, not really. it was just that now he had a goose accompanying him the entire time, honking at this and that and eating occasional pieces of popcorn that sam didn't want to share.

he didn't mind his feathered companion, he was actually quite fond of his goose at this point. whitewing (not to be confused with redwing) was the most calm goose any of them had seen, no biting or nipping and especially no honking at ungodly hours of the night.

steve was perplexed. "Are you sure whitewing hasn't done anything bad? no waking you up at night or bites when you don't feed him soon enough?"

sam would chuckle and shake his head, proud to have such a calm goose. "why are you so keen to see him misbehave? aren’t all soulmate geese like this?"

"for lack of a better word, most geese are assholes. i don't know how whitewing is so well behaved," steve balked at the very idea of all geese being so mellow and decided it was story time.

steve’s goose from the century before was the most rambunctious animal anyone had ever seen. he recounted the first and several occasions following where his soulmate goose, jimmy, fended off the blond man's alleyway attackers.

sam was extremely grateful that whitewing had less feral and goose-like tendencies. whitewing was extremely well behaved and had an almost human way about him, the way he honked in reply to sam or the rest of the team when they talked to him.

it was late in the evening when clint decided to plop down onto the couch and flick the channel to nbc, where tonight's host was mick jagger.

"why are we watching this?" sam was enjoying his sitcoms before the other bird man had showed up.

"i haven't watched it in ages, plus mick jagger is on tonight."

"alright, whatever you want."

the intro played like usual, and whitewing was perfectly complacent. they laughed in the right places with the occasional honking from the bird, and everything was great.

"hey man, look!" clint interrupted, keeping sam from being able to hear the punchline. "i think that's a goose!"

"why is there a goose? The skit has nothing to with-"

sam and clint seemed to come to the same realization at the same time as whitewing, the goose beginning to honk incessantly. he was going absolutely berserk, flapping his wings and hopping off of sam’s lap and onto the coffee table, occasionally pecking at the tv where he saw the other goose.

he was going absolutely bonkers.

"whitewing! whitewing, no! calm down!" sam scrambled to calm down his goose, but he was having none of it. the whole entire skit, whitewing was honking and flapping and being a general nuisance.

he found his soulmate.

whitewing kept at it until the screen went to a commercial, his soulmate off of the screen.

"y’know," clint spoke around a slice of pizza. when did he get pizza? "if you hurry, you could go to the studio and meet your soulmate. the show is about halfway over."

before sam could think over the proposition, tony’s voice was heard from the corridor. "somebody shut that damned bird up before I pay ramsay to cook it!"

"i’m taking care of it!"

with that, sam heads to the armory with whitewing on his tail to get his wings. once he's equipped, sam heads to the window and jumps, immediately setting his course for studio 8h and his soulmate.

you’re released to go back to your office once you finish the skit alongside mick and piper, the show almost over. you’re gathering your things lazily, knowing that you have no other responsibilities for the night.

just as you lock your office and piper is waddling beside you without a care in the world, you see kyle running towards you with a look of fear in his eyes. that fear seems to only triple when his eyes land on piper beside you.

"kyle! what’s-"

"there’s another goose on the set! no one is safe!"

wait, was he bleeding?!

you were going to try and help your friend but one look at piper sent him off the rails, the lanky man nearly falling on his ass in an attempt to skid the corner. you hoped that someone would help calm your panicked friend, seeing as you were literally the worst person for the job at the moment.

without further incident, you are able to say goodbye to cecily and mikey before you're stopped in your tracks by michael, who gives piper a funny look.

"wait, so the goose that attacked kyle wasn't piper?" You shake your head in confusion. "dude, your soulmate must have come to the set!"

piper must have either understood what your co-worker had said or she could sense a change in the studio, but she began to honk erratically and run away from you. the last thing new york needed was two feral geese running around attacking people, so you did what anyone would do and ran after her.

"piper! piper, come back!" michael laughed as you chased after your goose. while you were running, you nearly died when you heard a honk that you knew wasn't from your piper. hers were carved into your brain, and you were positive that you could pick hers out of an entire gaggle of geese, so there was indeed a second goose in the studio.

to your dismay, piper did not stop and wait, she just kept on honking and flapping and scaring people in pursuit of the other goose, poor old you having to chase her.

there was another voice you assumed was yelling at his goose since you didn't know of anyone naming their kid whitewing. your eyes were not looking straight ahead when you suddenly bumped into someone, immediately stumbling a bit before regaining your balance.

piper had stopped her honking and that scared you. did someone hurt her? was she-

her and another goose were making muted honks to each other. they sounded like affectionate honks, which is one of the weirdest sentences you ever constructed in your head. but it was true! they were cuddling close to each other and making really quiet honking noises at each other, and if that wasn’t affectionate then you didn’t know what would be.

so if piper found her soulmate, that means yours was-

"i hope comin' to your job was okay. whitewing wasn't gonna give up until I left, so here we are." your eyes were dragged from the touching scene of piper and her special goose to a pair of dark brown irises that radiated warmth and a promise of happy days.

you were absolutely dumbstruck. your mouth was unable to form coherent words, so you decided to take in the appearance of your soulmate. he was wearing a soft grey tee and sweatpants, and socks without shoes. did he realize how unsanitary the streets of new york were?

but upon further investigation, you realize that he probably didn't walk to the studio. on his back was what you would normally call a jetpack, but when you recognize the face your mind completes the puzzle: your soulmate is sam wilson, otherwise known as the falcon. holy shit.

"uh yeah of course, i guess you flew here? no sane person in new york would walk around barefoot in the street." did you really just say that?!

sam nodded and then remembered that he was in his pajamas in front of his soulmate without any shoes. "yeah, he wasn't gonna stop attacking the tv once he saw uh…"

you realized he was asking for your goose’s name, and so you hastily gave it to him.

"yeah, once he saw piper, he went wild. caused more chaos in five minutes than he did in five days!"

you laugh, the nervousness falling away as you recount the story of you first meeting with piper.

people are staring at the pajama-clad avenger and his soulmate, their geese finally satisfied. after all, it wasn't every day so many people were able to watch soulmate geese (and their people) meet for the first time.

sam gently took your hand, his thumb smoothing the skin on the back of it, just listening to you talk. you asked him a question about whitewing and he was in the middle of telling you when he cut himself off. "i just realized i don't even know your name!"

in most scenarios you’d be slightly put off by this, but you didn't have an issue because of the specific circumstances. if he weren't an avenger you wouldn't have known his either, and plus, no one really pays attention to the little rat writers. you give him your name and smile when he introduces himself, his voice even helping show off the brightest smile you’ve ever seen.

with impeccable goose timing, piper and whitewing honk at you to hurry your introductions and leave the studio.

"do you want to fly back to your place , or can I drive you?" it was a risk to ask him such a question, but you were genuinely concerned. you hoped he wouldn't think you were trying to jump his bones only minutes after meeting him so you used (terrible) humor to show your intentions. "you shouldn't fly so late at night without headlights, no matter how high up you get."

sam’s laughter was infectious and soon you joined him, your geese about to get more irritated with their humans.

"yeah, I'd like that. lead the way, soulmate." piper and whitewing honk as the two of you head to the lobby hand in hand, the birds waddling behind you just as happy as soulmate geese could be.

[fandom-necromancer]

A thing of beauty

I stumbled about this post of @isibakeoven and I just had to write it! I hope you enjoy!

Fandom: Cyberpunk 2077 | Characters: nomad!V, Johnny and more

‘How could this even happen?’ ‘I don’t think I have to tell you of all people how something like this can happen’, V spoke loud for once. They were alone in their apartment, so why bother? V smiled, petting Nibbles laying next to her on the ground while the small kittens tried to clumsily climb on her outstretched legs. ‘No shit, V. I meant that this is now happening on top of everything else! We are supposed to get rid of the chip, save your life. And now we have to look after… kittens?’ ‘They are cute though.’ ‘Damnit, V.’ The construct likely had wanted to sound frustrated, but there was a certain softness in his voice too. ‘They look all wrinkly…’ ‘Don’t listen to him’, V chuckled and lifted up one of the tiny cats that had repeatedly tried and failed to get a good grip on her pants. ‘You are perfect.’ ‘Well, we can’t keep them. They will grow up and need more space. And I doubt some mercenary that could die any given day could take care of them.’ V sat the little one down on her lab and watched amused as it tried to get underneath her jacket. ‘Didn’t know you would care this much.’ ‘Hell, V, what do you think of me? Who doesn’t like cats?’

V couldn’t help but grin as Johnny sat down next to her, watching the kittens mill about with a tiny smile on his lips. He was right, of course. Even Nibbles herself had been a heat of the moment decision and it was better than leaving her out on the streets. They couldn’t keep them all. But what should they do with them? ‘You could sell them to some rich corpos’, Johnny shrugged. ‘I mean, we would make a fortune with real cats and they would have a nice home with everything they could ever need.’ And that was coming from someone who hated these people. It made V think about it, but ultimately their guts told them no. ‘Fine, any other idea then?’ V watched the kittens play and sighed deeply. Who in this rotten world could they trust still? And who could take good care of a cat? Instinctively a few names popped up in their head. ‘Really? Your mercenary friends?’ Johnny asked. ‘Come on, they are as bad as you are. And don’t you dare give one to- You’ve already made up your mind, right?’ V chuckled. ‘Yes. Once they are old enough, it’s time for a roadtrip!’

-

The meows of the kittens in the box on the passenger seat were almost heart wrenching, but they had grown quite a lot already and begun to rearrange what little furniture V had in their apartment. Besides, V knew they would find a loving new home. ‘But that’s not your only reason, is it?’, Johnny asked from the backseat. ‘It isn’t and you know that, you are in my brain’, V sighed and stopped at the red light. ‘So what? You really want me saying it out loud?’ ‘Maybe so you know it’s bullshit. I won’t let you die, V, and that’s final.’ ‘Even if we find a solution for the chip that works – and I highly doubt that – as you said, I could die any other day. Might as well give my friends something to remember me. Something good in a world that doesn’t give a fuck about you.’ ‘Hell, you’re getting my level’s of cynic here…’ ‘So far I haven’t had the urge to blow up a building yet, so I would say I’m good for a few more days.’ ‘Har, har’, the construct laughed sarcastically, but continued to look out of the window the rest of the ride.

‘Hey, V!’, Judy greeted them at the door and frowned as she saw the giant bow in their arms. ‘Woah, what’s that?’ ‘Complications? It’s a gift. Will you let me in?’ ‘Err. Yeah… Gifted complications?’ V just entered her flat and put down the box on the kitchen counter. ‘You know, the cat I told you about? Nibbles? Well, turned out she was pregnant and left me a bunch of kittens I can’t keep. You want one?’ ‘Do I… V, the only animal I ever cared for are fish and- Oh my god, they are so cute!’ She had already leaned on the counter, looking through the bars and watching the little cats stumble about. ‘Aren’t you just the cutest?’ She put a finger through the gaps and promptly pulled it back. ‘Ouch!’ She pressed on the small cut but smiled. ‘Oh, I definitely want one!’ ‘Then pick one’, V laughed and pointed at the box. ‘Who of you was the one to scratch me, hm?’ She pulled out one of the cats and held her up. ‘Gonna call you Limónita!’ V shook her head, but watched, as Judy was already cuddling with the little thing seeming completely enamoured. ‘Do you have someone for the rest of them?’, she asked. ‘I have an idea, yes’, V answered. ‘Gonna drive by a few friends, see if they would like one.’ ‘Alright! Tell me if you can’t find homes for all of them, I could ask a few Mox.’ ‘Thanks. I will come back to that!’

‘One gone, six more to go’, Johnny commented, as V sat back down in the car and drove off. ‘Yep. Next stop: My favourite Ripperdoc.’ ‘Really? You want to give that butcher one?’ ‘That butcher saved my life countless times. And he is one of the few actually decent people out there. He will take good care of a cat. From all of them maybe the best as he actually settled down and has a more or less safe job.’ ‘Whatever you say…’

V stopped as close to the clinic as they could and stepped out with the box, hurrying down the stairs. Misty was the first to greet them, surprised to see them there. ‘V. What brings you here?’ ‘Is Vic free at the moment? I have something. For both of you actually, if you are interested.’ ‘He should be, I can call him. A surprise?’ ‘Yes.’ V put the box down on a near table and nodded towards the ripperdoc that came out of his room. ‘My cat got kittens. I’m searching for people to give them a home. With the way I live, it’s… difficult to take care of even one, don’t mind all of them.’ They didn’t mention the biochip, but both of them knew what they were implying with that. Viktor took one of the kittens out of the box and scratched it behind the ear with his mechanical extensions. Misty took one, too, surprisingly catching the one that liked to ride on shoulders. She laughed as the kitten clawed the way up her arm and watched the other one that was calmly accepting the pets. ‘Any idea for names?’, Viktor asked, eyes not even taken off the cat for a second. ‘Ying and Yang would be fitting. See? Yours even has a little black spot at the ear.’ ‘Isn’t that a little cliché?’, the doc asked and earned an in-depth explanation from Misty why they were the perfect names. V watched them a little, but in the end just took the box and stole themselves away.

‘Who’s next?’, Johnny asked, arms crossed behind his head. ‘Goro.’ Wait, what? I thought you were against selling them to some rich fucks!’ ‘I am. Takemura is a friend.’ ‘He’s Arasaka.’ ‘He’s Ex-Arasaka at best. And he will take good care of them.’ ‘Maybe, but… God, you’ve doomed that cat.’ ‘To the nice life of a spoiled kitty?’ ‘To sit through hours of meetings…’ ‘He’s a… You know what, I won’t even try. He’s nice and will love a kitty.’

V was proved correct in the end. She met Goro in a flat in a shady neighbourhood, but he had managed to tidy his temporary home up as if it was the corpo mansions he must be used to. He had been sceptical at first but as soon as he had taken a look into the box, he was almost instantly smitten with them and had sat down on the sofa with the kitten on his lap. He obviously tried to keep up a professional, stiff appearance, but as V left, they could hear the delighted ‘I hereby swear to protect you and care for you, Kitty-sama-‘ before the door fell into the lock.

She was still laughing when she came back to the car and drove off to her next target. ‘A cop. You are giving your cat to a cop?’ ‘I’m giving my cat to a loving family that always will have someone around to play with. I grew up knowing a family and I will always treasure those memories. Whatever kitten they pick, it will have a great life.’

‘V!’ They hadn’t even parked the car yet as the kids had spotted them. ‘V is here!’ ‘Are you staying to play?’ They laughed picking up the box. ‘I don’t think so. I have to speak with your dad, is he home?’ The children ran off to fetch him and V followed them, hoping the kittens would stay silent for a little while longer with the kids around. ‘V! What brings you here?’, River greeted them with a wide grin. ‘I’m looking for a home for my kittens. I can’t keep them. You look more of a dog person to me, but I’m not sure, so I thought I’d try.’ The man looked at them wide-eyed, then looking into the box. ‘You think I should… You would give me one?’ ‘I trust you to take good care of them’, V just nodded. He reached into the box and carefully lifted out a cat as if worried to break something. ‘So small’, he laughed, looking at the kitten fondly. He got to his knees, so the children could get a good look and a few pets, too. When he stood back up, he looked at V. ‘I will. This little kitty will have the best life I can give her.’ ‘Thank you.’

‘Okay, that was nice and all, but I have to stop you right there’, Johnny commented once again, as V was back in the car. ‘Kerry… Hell, he can’t even watch after himself. You… You’ve been to his house, okay? This should be obvious!’ ‘We both know that’s you being jealous he actually got over it and is successful now.’ ‘Yeah, well, because we turned up! Who knows what happens when we are gone.’ ‘I thought you said not to think about that because you won’t let me die?’ ‘I… Listen, you said you wouldn’t let me die either. So, I already know this will go to shit.’ ‘Kerry changed, Johnny. I trust him with a cat.’ Johnny sighed and vanished. ‘Why do I even try?’

At least the house was in less disarray than when V had last visited. The security was less hostile, too, allowing them to pass by and park right in front. ‘Hey, V? What’s up? Come in!’ He didn’t even acknowledge the box, leading them inside and pouring them a drink already. ‘My new song may be the best one I ever made; I’m telling you. I’ve made great progress!’ ‘I’m happy to hear that. Maybe once it’s ready, you could celebrate with a feline friend?’ The Rockstar turned around and only then saw the box, curiously looking into it. ‘Where did you get those cats?’ He had already taken one out to get a closer look. ‘They are worth a fortune, somehow I can’t believe you paid for it. Job gone wrong?’ ���No, I took in a cat I found and she was pregnant. Now I’m looking for a home for them. Interested?’ ‘Interested?’ Kerry pulled the cat to his chest protectively now that he realised, he might get one. ‘I would love to have a cat! I just always saw the costs and… Well I guess my life style isn’t the most stable one. You would just… give one to me?’ ‘Sure’, V shrugged. ‘I mean you have the money to care for one, a place to live and I know you are a softie underneath that craziness.’ ‘Oh, I will take so good care of you’, Kerry chuckled. ‘I don’t need half the space I have; I will transform this home to your wishes.’ He smirked at V and addressed the cat again: ‘You’ll be the most spoiled cat in the world, and I will call you Johnny, so it fits!’

‘Oh, you won’t, you son of a-‘ V had to will the construct away not to laugh and left Kerry with his cat. Back in the car they felt sorry for the last cat in the box. ‘Don’t worry, you will get a nice home, too. You will like it. Always on the move, seeing the world. You will have a big family and believe me, nothing is better than laying in the sun on a warm dashboard seeing the world pass by.’ V felt Johnny’s eyes on them and sighed. ‘What? Back with the Bakkers we constantly picked up stray dogs and cats. Not that there were a lot. But I remember one that loved riding with us.’ Johnny answered by lifting up his hands in surrender and looking out through the window once again.

The drive to the Aldecaldo Camp took quite a while and the sun was already setting, as they reached the edge of it. It was in the progress of settling down for the night, the few guards on post nodding towards her and greeting her friendly but brief. It wasn’t far to Panam’s tent anyway, so V just passed them. ‘V! What a surprise! How are you?’ ‘Good. And you?’ ‘Can’t complain. What do you have there?’ ‘My cat had a litter. I found homes for all of them except this one. Wanted to keep the ride out here for last, you know how the city can get at night.’ ‘Okay’, Panam said, waiting for more. ‘So you want me to take the kitten?’ ‘If you want it’, V nodded. ‘I think you would take great care of a cat. And the Aldecaldos are there too.’ ‘But we will be on the move constantly, do you really think I should take her instead of someone in the city?’ ‘No one I know has a stable life, Panam. And with you I know the kitty is safe. You can always put a tracker on her collar or something if you fear her getting lost. If you want a cat.’ ‘Oh, I would love to! Thank you!’ She took the last kitten from the box, pulling her close to her chest and already looking for one of the larger trailers to keep it in for the beginning. ‘I will take good care of you kitty, V!’

‘And that was the last one of your kittens, V’, Johnny concluded on their way back. ‘I think your friends will give them a good home.’ ‘I hope it brings them joy. A little bit of good in this world.’ ‘Don’t be so pessimistic. The world may be a disaster, but if you know where to look, there will always be a little bit of good.’ ‘A thing of beauty?’, V teased, maybe not nearly as jokingly as they might had wanted it to be. ‘Who knows? Maybe?’, Johnny sighed. ‘However this might end, they will remember you, V. You won’t be forgotten.’ V lowered her head, gripping the steering wheel of the Porsche a bit harder. ‘And neither will you.’

[thedumpsterqueen]

Standards of Performance, Chapter 10: Accommodations

From the Beginning,  Previous Chapter

AO3 Link

Thank you guys again for being so kind about the new posting schedule (or lack thereof). Your comments and messages and rbs always make me laugh and cry (in a a good way).This is just a lil chapter about them being awkward and cute after The Kiss, and introducing some bigger plot stuff. You'll wanna buckle up for the next one ;)

Summary: You’re the BAU’s newest intern, desperate to prove yourself amongst an established team of much more experienced profilers. Agent Hotchner, the seemingly infallible team leader, sets strict expectations for your performance. He commands your respect without even trying, but is there something more to your relationship than a simple desire to impress your stony-faced boss?

Chapter Summary: Some creep is stalking the team and all you can think about is kissing Hotch. 

Words: 2059

Rating: Explicit, 18+. Warnings on AO3.

Pairings: Hotch x Reader, Hotch x You

The BAU had a stalker.

To put it in a way more relevant to your views on the matter: the BAU’s stalker was interfering with the (hopefully) budding spark between you and Hotch.

It wasn’t that you didn’t care that there was potentially unhinged maniac apparently obsessed with the team, it’s just that when you got the slightly panicked phone call from JJ that Morgan, Reid, Garcia, and herself had all found letters on their doorstep professing an alarming fascination with the members of the team, you couldn’t help but feel a bit irritated that the ordeal was bound to put a pause on the progress you two had made.

That is, until you went to leave your apartment in the morning and found an unassuming envelope shoved under the door. You opened it with shaking fingers to a note written on thick cardstock, scrawled in black, seeping ink as if written by an old-fashioned quill.

I’ve been paying attention to your team for some time - quite the impact you’ve made on the world of crime. The heroes of the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit! I’m sure the world wishes they had you during Bundy or BTK, hm?

Anyways, I had to see for myself. I must admit, finding you was much easier than I would have anticipated given your ‘status.’ I thought I’d drop you this note to say hi and propose a deal. A Game, of sorts.

The Game goes like this: I leave you notes, and you try to catch me! Easy, yes? This is day 1. How many days until you find me?

Xoxo Talk soon,

G

You put the note in your bag and, after double checking your door was locked (not that the flimsy deadbolt the landlord had installed would have done much to keep an intruder out anyways), you rushed to the office. You dropped your note on the table in the conference room where the team had gathered and pointed at it tremulously. 

“I got one too. I touched it, I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking -”

“Don’t worry about it,” Rossi interrupted. “We dusted the others; there was nothing. I doubt yours was any different.”

Hotch plucked your letter up and scanned it quickly before tossing it back on the table. “It’s exactly the same as the others. Nothing identifiable.”

“Why didn’t we get them?” asked Prentiss.

“Access,” said Garcia, notably less cheery than usual. The team turned to her for clarification.

“You three are hard to get to,” she explained. “Hotch and Prentiss live in secure apartment buildings. Rossi has a gated property with security that can rival the President’s. Those of us who don’t live the high life are just... out in the open.”

“So that’s encouraging, right? That the unsub either couldn’t or wouldn’t go through the extra trouble of getting to all of us?” JJ asked, hopeful.

Morgan shook his head. “I dunno if you can interpret any part of what this creep is doing to intimidate us as ‘encouraging.’”

“Does it read as intimidation, though?” mused Reid. 

“I don’t know, you tell me,” Morgan responded. “What’s your take on the language?”

Reid took a millisecond to reread the letter and pursed his lips. “Though the language isn’t directly threatening, the concept of a game implies either winning or losing. He - it’s almost certainly a he - doesn’t mention the consequences for either situation, which could imply that there are none, but that seems unlikely. There’s also the matter of separating himself from others in line three - ‘I’m sure the world wishes they had you during Bundy or BTK,’ not we. He’s trying to distinguish himself to us in some way, which means he wants to be noticed, and I don’t think there’s anything in this language that excludes the possibility of him doing something drastic in order to be.”

“So not encouraging,” said Prentiss dryly. “The question is, why us? Is this personal; did we put someone close to him away?”

“It could be, but the language in the opening seems sarcastic almost, like he’s mocking us,” noted Rossi. 

Morgan nodded in agreement. “It’s a challenge. He’s trying to tell us we’re not all we’re cracked up to be.”

The analysis worried you, because you felt you were the only member of the team for whom that statement might have been true. 

“So, what then?” you asked. “Review security footage and see if we can find anything?”

“Already did!” chirped Garcia. “Hotch had me up all night reviewing the tapes.”

For the first time, you noticed the dark circles under her standard coat of heavy makeup. You looked at Hotch, expecting to find some shame in his expression, but found none. 

“If there was anyone weird creeping around your dwellings last night, I didn’t see ‘em. I even looked through the street cameras in the area. Granted, none of you have a security camera pointed directly at your door, which might not be a bad idea after this -”

“Hold on,” Morgan interrupted, “you didn’t check her apartment though, right?” referring to you. “Cuz she just found it this morning?”

Garcia perked up, but you shot her down with a shake of your head. “Sorry guys, my place isn’t nearly nice enough to have security cameras.”

The team looked unperturbed by that, except for Hotch, who met your eyes with a look you couldn’t quite place. 

“What do we do, then? Wait for another letter?” JJ asked.

“That’s all we can do until we have more evidence,” said Hotch, visibly frustrated. He hated waiting, you knew that. You all hated it. It felt like watching a car without its parking brake on slowly start to roll down a hill.

“If that’s all, sir…”

Hotch nodded at Garcia. “You’re all dismissed. Business as usual for now. If he craves acknowledgement, best not to give it to him unless we have to.”

The team filtered out, and you made to follow them, but before making it through the doorway, Hotch called you back. He shifted feet, cleared his throat, and looked at you.

“About the comment you made earlier,” he started.

What comment? You wracked your brain trying to remember if you’d said something rude, or something that hinted at what happened between you two, but came up short.

He noticed the puzzled look on your face and clarified. “When you said your apartment complex wasn’t nice enough to have security cameras. I wanted to say that -” he ran his hand across his jaw, clearly uncomfortable, “- I know the internship salary isn’t impressive, and if you feel you’re unable to afford safe accommodation, I’d be more than happy to talk to Strauss about -”

“Oh, God, no.” You felt as if your face was on fire. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it that way, my apartment is fine - I mean of course there’s things that could be improved - but in no way do I feel unsafe.” 

“Well, good. Okay then.”

Before you could make your exit and spare you both from the residual awkwardness of the interaction, he spoke again. “There’s one more thing. Given that whoever wrote this note has displayed his willingness to come to our doorsteps, JJ is staying with Emily for the time being, Reid with Rossi, and Garcia with Morgan.”

You smirked at the last pairing. Leave it to those two to capitalize on a stalker to bunk up together. 

“I was going to have the Bureau get you a hotel in the meantime, since he did come to your apartment, but Garcia suggested that since we live so close, you could just… stay with me.”

Holy shit.

There was a pained look on his face as he finished the sentence as if he recognized what an utterly bad idea it was, but hadn’t had the good sense to reject it himself. He looked at you, expecting an answer despite the lack of a question mark at the end of that statement, and you struggled mightily to compose yourself to deliver an acceptance that didn’t appear uncomfortably enthusiastic. 

You must have taken too long, because he immediately started to retract his offer. “I already told her it was completely inappropriate; the rest of the team is used to staying together for cases but given you just started, and after the last few days I completely understand -”

“No!” You cut him off. “Sorry, no, that’s not what I was going to say at all. I’d love to. I mean, I think it’s a good idea. I’d feel a lot safer…”

‘With you around?’ Is that too much?

Fuck it. 

“... with you around,” you finished, and you swear you saw him push back a smile.

“Alright, then. I’ll let Garcia know.”

You made a mental note to send that woman a thank-you card.

***

As the workday wound down, you were surprised to Hotch turn out his office light and walk out at the same time as you did.

“Early night?” you teased as you walked to your cars in the parking garage, despite it being 7 pm. 

He chuckled. “It would have been rude of me to keep you hanging around until I decided to leave.”

Right. You were leaving together. Because you were going back to his apartment. Together. The undeniable domesticity of the moment put a skip in your step, and you couldn’t help but wish this was happening under different circumstances.

“So I’ll just stop by my apartment and grab my things?”

“What? No,” Hotch responded, frowning. “I’m coming with you. The whole point of all of this is to avoid being alone.”

And that’s how you ended up speeding down the highway like a madwoman, leaving Hotch in your dust, taking the stairs two at a time, and frantically scrambling to get your apartment in order. It wasn’t terrible; not as if you had rotting food sitting out or something (probably because you didn’t actually cook enough for that), but the recent caseload and spending so much time with Hotch in the mornings had certainly pushed general organization to the wayside. You shoved the growing pile of dirty laundry into your closet, straightened up the coffee table, and were in the middle of packing your suitcase when you heard a knock at the door.

Giving the apartment a quick once-over to make sure you hadn’t missed something utterly humiliating, you opened the door to an unimpressed Hotch.

“I could have pulled you over for speeding, you know,” he said as he strode into your living room.

“Yeah, sorry,” you said sheepishly, “I wanted to make sure this place wasn’t a mess the first time you saw it.”

He cocked an eyebrow and you realized how that came out - the first time, as if there were going to be many more - and you coughed and looked away.

“Anyways. I’m almost done packing, just gotta grab a couple more things.”

He nodded and you hurried to it, wanting to get him out of your apartment as quickly as possible. Normally you’d have jumped at the chance to be alone in a quiet place with him, but the way his eyes were scanning the room made you nervous that he was learning more about you in a very short amount of time than you felt entirely comfortable with.

***

You walked into Hotch’s apartment for the second time ever to find it just as clinically neat as before, except for a set of sheets and blankets laid out on the couch. Grinning, you gestured to them.

“Thought you said you were sure I would say no?”

It was his turn to be shamefaced. “Just in case. Besides,” he shot back, grabbing your bags from where you’d deposited them by the couch, “You’re taking the bed.”

“Like hell I am!” you scoffed, forgoing propriety. “I’m not making my boss sleep on the couch in his own apartment.”

“Considering I, as you mentioned, am your boss,” he responded, “I will be making that decision.”

You plopped down on the couch. “Unless I just refuse to move.”

He stood a few paces away and glared, but gave up and dropped your bags all the same.

You could have sworn you heard him mutter “brat” under his breath, but that didn’t sound like something Aaron Hotchner would say, did it?

Taglist (I got a bunch of new ones so message me if I forgot to add you!):  @stop-drop-and-drumroll @criminalmindzjunkie @xoprincessmel @cevanswhre @addie5264 @klinenovakwinchester​ @honeyshores​ @violentvulgarvolatile @masumiyetimziyanoldu @violetclifford​ @pipersaccomplice​ @itsmytimetoodream​ @groovygoob​ @captainhyenafan​ @thebadassbitchqueen​

[13eyond13]

Why do Light and L came out so different in the anime version of DN?

I was so very disappointed when they cut out scenes that showed Light actually caring for his family (when he yells at L for suspecting Sayu, f.e.). Until I read manga, I really thought that he couldn't care in the slightest about what happens to his family. In the anime we are only shown his distress over Souichiro's death (but it is shown with Light's internal comments about how he wants Mello dead, so his emotions can be interpreted as fake too). Also, as you mentioned earlier, some scenes in the anime are added to show Light as more violent towards Misa (him breaking the glass she offers him). Were animators trying to portray him as more unlikable than he already was in manga?

Also, I agree with you about L being more sincere in the anime. I would even say it makes him more likeable character, because in the manga O&O were trying really hard to make him as non-human as possible (human washing machine.........). Also, what i find really interesting is how differently manga!L and anime!L seem to view thamselves. Manga!L seems to not express feelings at all. He has no problem admitting that what he's doing is not about justice but about puzzles and riddles, and when he tells someone that he likes them (when he calls Light his first ever friend, f.e.), it happens just so he could manipulate this person or those who are listening. Anime!L, on the other hand, seems more self-loathing to me. He really considers himself a lying monster and he doesn't let anyone close because for him loneliness ensures survival. He tells the truth about liking someone very seldom (when he tells Aizawa that he really likes people like him). And I think the scene on the rooftop is brilliant, because it shows L's relationship with people in general and himself. L was so afraid of being deceived that he decided to become the best lier in the world. He knew that Task Force members weren't lying to him about not being Kira when he first met them because he just was better at lying then them. But having met Light, he understood that there was someone who was better lier than him. So, when he tells Light "from the moment you were born, was there actually a moment when you told the truth?" it's really about him acknowledging that Light is the best lier. Because despite being a lying monster, L had scenes where he told the truth, but Light didn't (because, as i mentioned earlier, for some reason animators didn't show him caring for his family)

So, what are your thoughts about anime and manga versions of Light and L? Sorry if this post came out as a little chaotic.

Haha hi again 😅 I've thought about this a lot, and I think that it's likely a combination of things. I think that they cut out certain scenes in the anime due to time constraints, so some of the more nuanced and humanizing little interactions like the warmer Yagami family dynamics were removed. And then occasionally some of the more sarcastic jokes and darker moments were turned sincere or watered down, because I think the anime was sometimes attempting to soften the unsentimental cruelty of the story (whether or not it was always in-character or logical to do). But I think the anime also skewed the characterizations a little bit toward straight-up cartoonishly vilifying Light, and also sort of implied that L is the sympathetic hero to root for, albeit not in an entirely consistent way. Honestly I don't think that the anime completely understood L as a character, in that they made him come off more sincere and regretful and well-meaning at times with bits that they added or took away from what he says and does (either intentionally or unintentionally). The biggest changes overall to me are how they chopped out most of the "first ever friend" scene so that L looked like he was genuinely wistful and a little bit naïve about wishing he could have a real friendship with Light. And then added the rain scene where he confronts Light and draws parallels between them and admits that he feels emotionally distant from everybody in a regretful sort of way. I wouldn't necessarily say that manga!L is entirely without vulnerabilities or insecurities or emotions, and I still find him very human and complex without those little alterations from the anime. I think he is an intensely guarded and cryptic and intentionally ambiguous character though, and that he wasn't really meant to be given that kind of emotional development onscreen. It distracts from Light's position in the spotlight and the overall point of the story, and it changes L's characterization just enough into a stereotypical misunderstood loner type that he actually becomes a little more cliché and less original to me. I do think people often find him more sympathetic and even a bit clueless and pitiful in the anime sometimes, like he doesn't fully realize all the problematic stuff that he does. But anyway, I always prefer the manga when it comes to the characterization and the tone and the relationships between the characters, because I think it's just a lot more consistent and complex and intriguing in its portrayals of everybody. And I weirdly find it more humanizing of the characters than the anime, even though it has less of those random little softer moments added in (especially in the successor arc, which really gets the short end of the stick in the anime).

[gameofdrarry]

Wizards Hearts Recs: Canon Divergent

Wizards Hearts was a four-month-long Drarry reading fest. Players were given a playing deck of 52 tropes, and were asked to find 52 different fics to read and comment on to fill their decks. To prevent the same few fics from being read, fics were restricted to only being used for the game three times before being considered ineligible for further points. The tropes and submissions list can be found here.

Check out the masterlist of fics for this trope below the cut!

📜 Evitative by Vichan Rated:  Teen Words:  222,452 Tags:  Slytherin Harry Potter, Re-sorting, Dark Arts, Slow Burn, Dark!Harry Summary:  In the summer before his fifth year at Hogwarts, Harry is drawn to a room in Grimmauld Place. Like the Gryffindor he is, he enters the room without fear. The room is a library, and Harry is surprised to find that he’s eager to learn. Then he gets the bad news: he’s been accidentally expelled from Hogwarts, and he needs to be sorted again. Everyone is confident that he’ll go straight back to Gryffindor, but with what he's been learning, Harry’s not so sure. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 The Secondary Task by ProfessorFrankly Rated:  Mature Words:  50842 Tags: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Major Character Death, Book 4: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Swearing, Frank discussion of teen sex, No actual teen sex, Canon-Typical Violence, If you've read GoF you know the last bit's where the violence and stuff is, Most of this fic has a "T" rating, Quantum Bang 2020 Summary:  When Harry Potter’s name comes out of the Goblet of Fire, Draco Malfoy decides the Boy-Who-LIved needs a friend, whether he wants one, or not. With his mother’s backing, Draco sets out to make sure Harry knows he has someone in his corner, for now, and if Draco has his way, for always. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Outtake: The Second Task by MickeySLee Rated:  Mature Words:  30824 Tags: Secret Relationship, Book 4: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Hogwarts Fourth Year, Triwizard Tournament, Hostage Situations, Draco Malfoy is a Good Boyfriend, Harry Potter is a Good Boyfriend, Plot Twists, Romance, Fluff, Homosexuality, Homophobia, Good Draco Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy's A+ Parenting, Lucius Malfoy Being an Asshole, weekly updates!, Hogwarts Era, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Bashing, POV Hermione Granger, Hurt/Comfort, Consent is Sexy, Fairy Tale Elements Summary:  Part of the series Outtakes and A Hard Story. Fourth Year. The Triwizard Tournament. The Second Task. What would happen if Dumbledore made a different decision when it was discovered Draco is who Harry would miss most? Instead of covering it up and declaring Ron to be Harry's hostage, Draco is the one at the bottom of the lake. No one could have foreseen how much trouble that caused. You may want to read A Hard Story or Throughout the Twists to Times first. This story is completed and will be uploaded one chapter per week on Sunday. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Parades, Pansy, and fuck I’m too gay for this by false_heteros Rated:  General Words:  2227 Tags: Pride is at the end :), A lot of pureblood bullshit, Loneliness, Draco is Sad, Harry Needs a Hug, Pride, Pride Parades, Modern Era, Sirius Black Lives, Mentions of past child abuse, Cedric Diggory Dies, past homophobia, Gay Harry Potter, Gay Draco Malfoy Summary:  After the war, Draco, who had been staying at home like a fucking hermit till Pansy came along, finally finds out about the LGBTQ+ Community, he dives head first into research and is amazed at what he finds. Harry wanders muggle London once every few days. Blending with the crowd and not feeling different for once. He comes along a group of people with beautiful colours around them. “What are they doing?” ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Closure is a state of mind by Quicksilvermaid Rated:  Explicit Words:  12229 Tags: Morally Grey Draco Malfoy, Inappropriate medical/therapist relationships, Dubious Consent Due To Identity Issues, Lies, Self-Esteem Issues, low key stalking behaviour, Loneliness, Guilt, Therapy, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, taking advantage of a grieving person, Death of a Spouse, Character Death, (not Drarry), Disfigurement, Scars, Brief Mentions of Suicidal Thoughts, Drinking, First Time, Polyjuice Potion, Sex While Using Polyjuice Potion, pensieve sex, Voyeurism, wanking, Concealed Identity, Bittersweet Ending, H/D Hurt!Fest 2020 Summary:  After Harry's husband Charlie is killed, his Mind Healer recommends a Polyjuice therapy company, so Harry can see 'Charlie' again and find closure over his death. Draco, whose life over the last ten years has gone from bad to worse, gets assigned Potter's case. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Harry Potter and the Yuletide Waltz by LakeWitch Rated:  General Words:  3042 Tags: Yule Ball, Dancing, Hogwarts Fourth Year, six years later, Awkwardness, Meddling, Oblivious!Harry, more dancing, Not Canon Compliant - Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Christmas, Holiday Season, Canon Divergence Summary:  At the fourth year Yule Ball, Draco Malfoy asked Harry Potter to dance. Six years later, Harry Potter just might ask him why. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 When It's All Over by Erebeus Rated:  Mature Words:  9292 Tags: Rape/Non-con, Unhealthy Relationships, Self-Hatred, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con (not between main pairing), suicidal/death idolization, Hogwarts Sixth Year, Non-Graphic Violence, Spy Draco Malfoy, Loneliness, H/D Hurt!Fest 2020, Betrayal, Attempted Murder, Brief flashbacks and moments of panic mentioned, non graphic torture, Azkaban (brief), Off screen therapy Summary:  If killing you makes Harry happy, you really don't mind. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Catch 22 by jad Rated:  Explicit Words:  49895 Tags: Romance, Fluff, Humor, Complete, Letter!fic, Sexual Content Summary:  As if NEWTS weren't enough, Dumbledore's gone and had another one of his 'bright ideas.' If all ends well, the Houses will be getting along in no time. Or according to Harry's correspondent, an Apocalypse will be in order. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 (I don't know) what's right and what's real anymore by Ladderofyears Rated:  Mature Words:  2101 Tags: Harry Potter and the half blood prince, canon divergence, no septumsempra, guilty Draco, pov Draco, ghostly Myrtle, attracted Draco, pre-slash, pre-relationship, Harry is a hero Summary:  An alternative sectumsempra scene from Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Kiss by xErised Rated:  Teen and Up Words:  10764 Tags: Hogwarts Era, Light Angst, Mutual Pining, Secret Relationship, Getting Together, Kissing in the Rain Summary:  For the second task of the Triwizard Tournament, it's not Ron that Harry rescues from the Great Lake, but Draco Malfoy. Hogwarts-era. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 It’s Not Christmas (without you) by LittleBozSheep Rated:  Explicit Words:  79213 Tags: Fluff, Family Feels, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Getting Together, Christmas, Slow Burn, Serious Slow Burn, Everyone ships Drarry, Apart from Drarry, Divorced Draco Malfoy, Divorced Harry Potter, Kid Albus, kid scorpius, Everyone makes a camo, side wolfstar, Besides the last chapter it's rated G, Christmas Fluff, 25 Days of Harry and Draco, Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, Minor Sirius Black/Remus Lupin, Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Drunkenness, Drunken Shenanigans Summary:  Maybe agreeing to host everyone for Christmas wasn’t Harry’s best idea. Luckily Albus’s best friend’s dad is an events planner who agreed to help, only issue, turns out the dad is Draco Malfoy. Sarcastic and grumpy to everyone but his son. Will Harry managed to catch him and keep Christmas from being a complete disaster? ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Leaves by TheLostLibran Rated:  Teen and Up Words:  1190 Tags: Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Fluff without Plot, Healing, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Post-War, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence Summary:  A lot of work goes on underground, invisible to the naked eye. Though it doesn't mean that no development is occuring, the hopes of a huge, fully grown tree standing strong in the near or distant future only start sprouting when the leaves do. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Okay But That’s Hot by Fuschaslime Rated:  Explicit Words:  3640 Tags: Anal Sex, Riding, Dirty Talk, Frottage, Lapdance, Slut Shaming, Established Relationship, Friends With Benefits, Enemies to Lovers, Teasing, Begging, Safe Sane and Consensual, Bets & Wagers, Poker, theyre both over 18, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Banter, Perverted Harry, Slight fluff, Shameless Smut, AU where Lily Potter defeated Voldemort for good, and now everyone at hogwarts is kinda cool with eachother, apart from house tensions, Verbal Humiliation, Kinda Summary:  Draco immediately regrets agreeing to a certain bet made at poker night when he realises he’ll actually have to hold up his end of the deal. Harry is ecstatic. OR Draco Malfoy bets Harry Potter a lapdance. He loses. ❤️ Read on AO3

[limmastyles]

https://limmastyles.tumblr.com/post/678914948439703552/didnt-gemma-once-make-a-sarcastic-comment-about

Gemma posted a pic of her and Anne and some family on the London Eye and someone commented where was Harry and she replied something like 'yeah, as if he could" implying that it was way too crowded and Harry would get bothered

Thank you,darling💖

[feelssogoodinmyarms]

hey could you do melchior/moritz with 70. sorry idk the ship name. love your fics btw

can you believe next month it’ll be a year since you asked this? i have no concept of time, thank you so much for waiting. I can confidently say this is way better than it would have been if I wrote it a year ago. Thank you for the ask and compliment darling💕

This is set post-covid as implied by Ilse’s remark. The risks of seven minutes in heaven are mentioned at the beginning so if that makes you uncomfortable skip to “You’re going to deny...” there’s also some slight nsfw toward the end. everyone’s 18 obviously.

if anyone else wants to request one of these prompts i promise it won’t take a year 

70. Starting With A Kiss Meant To Be Gentle, Ending Up In Passion

“Seven minutes in heaven is fucking stupid,” Melchior complained. “Who the hell thought it would be a good idea to lock two people in a closet together? It’s date rape central.”

Moritz chuckled awkwardly and Ilse rolled her eyes. 

“It’s a bad idea to give stupid teenage boys, like I once was, the opportunity to do something like that,” Melchior clarified. It was no secret that in his former years, he was exactly the kind of teenage boy he’d just described. He felt that was all the more reason he should advocate against things like this. 

“You’re going to deny a bunch of college students the opportunity to stick their tongues down each other’s throats after we were forbidden to go within six feet of each other for a year?” Ilse asks, only half sarcastically. 

“I guess not,” Melchior conceded. “It’s still a bad idea though.” His eyes shifted to Moritz who was drinking something out of a solo cup and gazing in the direction of Martha and Wendla. He was probably hoping to get paired up with one of them. Not that Melchior could blame his friend, they were beautiful women, but he’d be lying if he denied wanting to be paired up with Moritz for the same game he so denounced. 

Surprisingly, Melchior only talked to Moritz and Ilse for a few more minutes before being summoned to the closet. He begrudgingly entered, ignoring the giggles cast in his direction. Maybe he would get someone cool like Martha or Anna and they could just talk for seven minutes. Suddenly the door opened and a tall man was thrust into the closet. It was dark, but Melchior recognized the figure. 

“Moritz?”

The young man jumped and turned sharply to him. “Yeah, jeez you scared me.”

“Sorry.”

“Where are you?” Moritz reached his hands out in search of the other man. Melchior couldn’t see very well and moved toward the voice. A pair of hands met his in the dark and his instinct was to move away, but Moritz gently intertwined his hand with Melchior’s before he could. Melchior’s heart felt like it stopped and Moritz dropped their hands. 

“Sorry,” He stammered, Melchior imagined he was blushing. 

“Uh, no. You’re good.” They stood in silence for a moment before Melchior interjected. “God this is stupid!” He laughed. “We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to, there’s no reason to be nervous.”

“Yeah!” Moritz agreed. “There’s no reason for it to be awkward, we know each other right?” 

“Yup,” Melchior’s voice cracked, despite his argument that there was no reason to be nervous. 

“Five minutes!” a voice from outside boomed, probably Bobby’s. 

“So, are you enjoying tonight?” Melchior asked. He moved closer to Moritz, to see him better of course, nothing else. 

“As much as I can,” Moritz chuckled. “Honestly, I might dip soon. These things exhaust me.” 

Melchior couldn’t tell, but Moritz seemed to be moving closer to him as well. 

“You smell good,” Melchior blurted out and instantly regretted it. It did elicit a laugh from Moritz which almost made the comment worth it. He did move closer this time, Melchior could tell. 

“Do you want to kiss me?” Moritz asked, voice just above a whisper. Melchior absolutely wanted to say yes but he couldn’t get the words out, instead nervously laughing. 

“You’re right, it’s stupid,” Moritz chuckled and ran a hand though his hair. 

“No! It’s not, I just-”

The voice sounded again, “Three minutes!” 

“Can I kiss you?” Melchior asked, throwing subtlety out the window.

Moritz nodded and nervously placed his hands on Melchi’s shoulders. Adrenaline took over and Melchior leaned forward without hesitation. He gently planted a kiss on Moritz’s lips as electricity seemed to course through the both of them. It only took moments before it became too much and Melchior couldn’t hold back anymore, pulling Moritz closer by the waist. The other man moaned into his mouth and it went straight to Melchior’s groin. He gently nibbled at Moritz’s lip before biting down harder. Moritz moved his hands to Melchior’s hair, tugging part of it slightly. He was about to pull Moritz into his lap when the door opened. 

“Woah-ho-ho-ho!” Bobby howled. “What have we here?”

“Shut up, Maler,” Moritz grumbled and climbed to his feet. Melchior couldn’t come up with anything witty to fire back and just blushed. He followed Moritz out of the closet and the two of them ended up on the back porch. Moritz stood with his forearms resting on the railing of the balcony and Melchior joined him.  

“So…” Moritz started.

“So can I take you out?” Melchior asked. “We could go to that coffee place by my house?”

“Yeah, absolutely,” Moritz sighed, as though he’d been holding his breath the whole time. 

“You know I’m really glad you did that.” Melchior bumped Moritz’s shoulder with his own. 

“I’ve been flirting with you for like two months!” Moritz laughed, his glance ahead, not meeting Melchior’s eyes. “I can’t believe you didn’t expect it!” 

“Well shit, I had no idea,” Melchior laughed and inched his hand closer to the other man’s, pressing on the railing. He blushed yet again when Moritz gingerly took it. 

“I’m not very good at flirting I guess,” the latter conceded, though not sadly.

“I mean, ‘Do you want to kiss me?’ worked pretty well,” Melchior teased. 

“Maybe I’ll be more direct from now on.” Moritz rested his head on Melchior’s shoulder, both of their hearts jumping in their chests. 

kiss prompts

[hookedonapirate]

Summary: The Jones brothers are polar opposites. Liam's the safe and honorable one, straight-laced and straight as an arrow. The good son.

Killian's the dangerous one, the bad boy with tats, leather jackets, a motorcycle and a questionable past.

The only things they have in common are panty-melting sea-blue eyes, the flat they share in Storybrooke and a rare blood type.

Oh, and apparently their taste in women.

Or rather, one woman.

Feisty.

Blonde.

Gorgeous.

Green-eyed Goddess.

Killian saw her first, but she chose his brother—the nice guy over the playboy. And even though she’s dating his brother, it doesn't make him want her any less. If that's not bad enough, she moves in with them and he has to pretend he's not completely in love with her. His life could not get any worse…

Until Liam dies in a tragic motorcycle accident.

Leaving each of them with one half of a broken heart.

Now Killian and Emma are left helping each other pick up the pieces.

Just as they're beginning to learn how to live in their new reality, another riptide pulls them further into the deep end when she finds out she's pregnant with Liam's baby.

Notes: So I made this post on Tumblr the other day, and then this fic happened. If you haven't seen the tags, please read them before starting this story or becoming invested because it’s very angsty. First of all, this starts out as Swan Jewel? I don't know what their ship name is or if there is an official name, but yes, Liam and Emma are in a relationship in the beginning, and I know it’s not everyone’s cup of tea. If you're not comfortable with that, I highly encourage you to hit the back button.

Thank you @ultraluckycatnd​ for looking it over!

This story was inspired by Baby Mine by Kennedy Fox, and I loved the book so much and thought it was very much underrated. I’ve wanted to write a fic like this for a long time now because it’s one of my favorite tropes, but after I read that book, I just had to write my own take. Also, I made this post about a Baby Yodarita drink last year when it was trending and since the beginning of this story starts one year prior, 2019 and since Killian is a bartender, it was a perfect way to include the prompt.

The title comes from the lyrics of the song, Lay By Me by Ruben. The particular line goes like this:

"I hope you know through the rising tide That I'll be here and you can lay by my side"

If you've never heard it, I recommend giving it a listen. It's an amazing song and very fitting for this story.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VFJbLzEtoZw

P.S. In case you're unable to read the shoulder tattoo in the picture above and are wondering what it says—

"There is no happiness without tears

No life without death

And no true love without heartbreak"

Rated: Explicit for smut (including sexual fantasies, masturbation, implied and detailed sex, etc.) and language (lots of F-bombs).

Also available on: AO3 FF.N

Chapter 1

“Late again?” Liam chides when Ruby waltzes into work as if everything is completely normal. As if she’s not an hour late for her shift. 

  For the third time that week.

  She gives him an apologetic smile, but Killian knows she’s not actually sorry. 

  He’s just wondering who she was with this time.

  “Won't happen again, boss.”

  “Damn right it won’t. This is your third warning. Next time, there will be a write-up,” he admonishes.

  Frustration creases her forehead. “Geez, would you just chill? My car broke down.”

  Liam crosses his arms, narrowing his eyes at her. “So, you mean to tell me your car has broken down three times this week?” he asks, holding up three fingers. “And on either of these occasions, you couldn’t pick up the phone and give me a heads up? Did your phone break, too?”

  She flashes him a look as though the answer to his question is obvious. “I told you my car’s a piece of junk. And I tried to call, but no one answered.”

  Killian fights off a laugh, knowing for a fact Ruby is bluffing. At least about calling tonight, since the phone hadn’t rung in the past hour. But he could easily check to see if she’d called on the other two days on the bar phone’s caller i.d. to find out for sure if he really wanted to. 

   “So get a new car. Don’t you make enough from your tips and the hourly wage I pay you?”

  “I make enough from my tips,” she replies with a sarcastic smirk, “but I have more important things to buy.”

  Liam rolls his eyes. “Like what? More six-inch heels, low-cut tops and short skirts?”

  Ruby lets out an exasperated sigh. “How do you think I get good tips—by dressing like a Catholic schoolgirl?” She twists her lips and presses the back of her long, red-painted fingernail to her chin, pondering her own words for a second. “On second thought, that actually might bring in even more tips. Besides, you should be paying for my work clothes. Maybe then I could afford a new car.”

  Liam scoffs. “You want me to pay for your outfits?” He shakes his head. “I don’t think so.”

  Ruby's eyes widen, as though she’s shocked he declined her request. “Why not? Can’t you claim them as a work expense?”

  He nods. “Alright, fine. But if I’m paying for your work attire, then I’m choosing what you wear. Sound good to you?” he asks, knowing damn well she’ll never go for it.

  Unsurprisingly, she shakes her head. “Absolutely not. I ain’t wearing no damn polo shirt and black slacks. I like my low-cut tops and short skirts, thank you very much.”

  Liam sighs and cups his forehead in his hand to indicate she’s giving him a headache as he turns around and walks toward his office. “Just get to work, Ruby.”

  She wraps her apron around her waist and mimics his words in a mocking tone, “Just get to work, Ruby.”

  “I heard that!” Liam hollers.

  “I could be already serving customers if it weren’t for my pain in the ass boss riding me every two goddamn seconds!” she shouts, hoping he heard that too.

  Killian chuckles to himself as he rings up a customer for his drinks and hands him the change.

  “That dude seriously needs to get laid,” Ruby huffs. “Maybe then he’d back off a little.”

  “Ha! I doubt it,” Killian comments before taking another drink order.

  Ruby heads to the dining area to wait on customers. She knows Killian’s not wrong to doubt Liam’s ability to show a little mercy. He’s worked for his brother for two years, longer than anyone has ever been able to stand working for him, and he’s never once seen Liam be lenient, not even to his own brother. He runs a tight ship, and Killian doesn’t see that ever changing. Liam has owned this bar for five years and takes his job very seriously. 

  Killian’s just glad he only has to work here for another six months. Or at least that’s the plan. He’s about to graduate from Storybrooke University and get his degree in engineering. As much as he enjoys working for his brother, or rather listening to his coworkers complain about his brother behind Liam’s back, he doesn’t plan on spending his entire life making drinks.

  Liam emerges from his office an hour later and announces he has to take off for a while to run some errands. Killian’s confused because this is Liam’s night to manage the bar. He dedicates the majority of his other time performing administrative tasks during the week.

  “What errands do you have to run on a Friday night?” Killian asks, his words laced with suspicion.

  “Just some errands I promised someone I’d take care of. You’re in charge while I’m gone.” He pulls on his jacket and leaves Killian behind the bar with a confused expression on his face, wondering what his brother is up to. 

  Killian brushes off the thought, deciding to further question him later.

  Liam heads out the door, but not before scolding Ruby for sitting down at a table full of rowdy men, chatting (and not about the menu). She may be into women, but she flirts with customers regardless of their gender for the tips. 

  Ruby curses under her breath and gets up, moving to her next table to jot down orders.

  ~*~

  Emma sighs as Mary Margaret grabs her hand and pulls her into The Captain's Rum. Or more like, drags her in kicking and screaming. She doesn’t wish to be at this bar any more than she wanted to be at the last two. But her sister-in-law insists on the outlandish idea Emma’s going to find Mr. Perfect tonight. Or somehow get over her asshole of an ex-boyfriend after one night of drinking.

  And even though it's been two months since she left Neal and his thieving and cheating ass, and as much as she wants to get over him, Emma knows it’s not gonna happen for a while. At least not tonight.

  And yet, here she is.

  One night of drinking can’t hurt, she supposes. One night of forgetting everything. Of numbing her pain. Or so she keeps telling herself, but that could be the alcohol she’s already imbibed at the other two bars speaking.

  “So, how’s it going tonight, Rubes?” Mary Margaret asks the cocktail server once they’re seated at a booth. 

  Apparently, they know each other.

  “Well, no one's tried to manhandle me yet, so it's a start.” The tall brunette with red streaks in her hair leans over the table and murmurs, “Not a great start, but it's a start.”

  Mary Margaret rolls her eyes and laughs as she gestures at Emma. “Rubes, this is my sister-in-law, Emma. She just moved here from New York.”

  Looking at Emma, Ruby grins and sticks out her hand. “Hi! Nice to meet you!”

  Emma gives her a polite smile and shakes her hand. “Likewise.”

  When Ruby brings the chips and cheese Mary Margaret ordered, she places them on the table along with two empty plates. Before arriving here, Mary Margaret decided they would put some food in their bellies before they added more alcohol so they wouldn't get too drunk too fast and have to head home early. Well, that was Mary Margaret’s idea at least. Emma would much rather be home in the comfort of her bedroom watching Netflix. Or rather, her brother’s and sister-in-law's guestroom they so graciously let her sleep in until she gets her own place. 

  “Enjoy, ladies.”

  “Sure will,” Mary Margaret beams as Ruby leaves their table. She sips on some water as she scans the bar. Probably for potential suitors she can hook her sister-in-law up with, Emma surmises. “What about him? He's cute,” Mary Margaret remarks, her eyes trained on someone behind her. 

  Emma looks over her shoulder and arches a brow. “He’s cute if you’re sixteen. He looks way too young.”

  “Well, he’s drinking, so he must be at least twenty-one,” Mary Margaret points out.

  “He looks sixteen, and sorry, I don’t date children.”

  “Emma, he’s not a child, probably a college student. And you act like you’re so old just because you already graduated. You’re twenty-two,” Mary Margaret points out like she’s jealous and wishes to be so young again. But she's only a few years older—the same age as David.

  Emma groans. “No, thanks.” Her last boyfriend was immature enough as it was, and he was ten years her senior. “So, tell me, how are you and my brother getting along?” Emma asks, attempting to change the subject and get her sister-in-law to avert her attention from the college boys across the room. “Sick of each other yet?”

  Mary Margaret whips her head around and scowls. “Of course not. Why would you ask such a thing?”

  Emma laughs and raises her hands in defense. “Because I knew it was the only thing that would get your attention.”

  Guilt and apology flicker in Mary Margaret’s eyes. “Sorry, Emma.” She lays her palms on the table. “David and I are just worried about you, that’s all.”

  Emma sighs, frustration creasing her forehead. “I’m fine, I promise. Neal was an ass, and honestly, him cheating on me was a good thing. I needed the wake-up call, okay? I was blinded by love. But now that we're over, I can move on with my life. That’s why I let you talk me into bar hopping.”

  A slow, hopeful smile spreads across her lips. “I know, and I’m so happy you got out of that relationship, Emma. David and I both are.”

  Emma laughs. “I know. When I landed on your door stoop, we both had to stop him from driving all the way to New York to kick Neal's ass.”

  Mary Margaret nods. “True. He’s very protective of you.”

  Emma rolls her eyes. “I know. It’s both a blessing and a curse.” She takes a sip of water as she scans the bar. It’s the first time she’s been to The Captain's Rum, and everyone is so unfamiliar to her. New York is a huge place, especially compared to Storybrooke, but in this bar, it feels like she‘s back in New York. She swears everyone in Storybrooke is here.

  Ruby returns to their table to sit and chat. And steal some of their chips, double-dipping them in the cheese. Emma fights off the urge to laugh at this as her eyes wander past Ruby’s shoulder. 

  Huge mistake.

  The group at the bar counter disperses, revealing the most gorgeous sight she's ever seen.

  Holy. Fucking. Hell. 

  She loses a breath when she sees what she can only describe as a fine specimen. 

  Good Lord.

  Handsome features and such a delicious smile to accompany his perfect face as he chats with a male patron at the bar, she finds herself licking her lips.

  “What about him?” Emma manages when she’s able to find the words in her throat. 

  Mary Margaret’s eyes light up before she even looks to see who Emma is staring so unabashedly at. “Who?!” She and Ruby both turn their heads, their eyes following the path of Emma’s gaze until they land on the target.

  “You mean the bartender?” Mary Margaret asks, though, to Emma’s surprise, she doesn’t seem very excited; more like disappointed.

  Emma tears her gaze away from the bartender, as much as she doesn’t want to. But she couldn’t breathe when she looked at him and she needed to come up for air. “Yeah, why not?” 

  “Why not what?” Ruby asks as she looks at Emma, curiosity flashing in her big hazel eyes. “Because if you’re asking ‘why not jump his bones,’ then I can’t think of one good reason.”

  “Ruby, don’t encourage her,” Mary Margaret chides with a glare.

  Ruby frowns, confusion etched in her features. “Why not?”

  “Because… Killian is a player. Emma just broke up with her player of a boyfriend a couple of months ago. She doesn't need another one in her life.”

  “Um, excuse me, I’m right here,” Emma groans wryly. “And I’m perfectly capable of making my own decisions.”

  “She’s not wrong though,” Ruby remarks. “He is a player. But a fucking hot player. Between the two of us, we’ve conquered all the women of Storybrooke.”

  Emma lifts a brow. “Does that mean what I think it means?”

  “Yep. Probably even some of the same women,” she winks, her words bearing no shame or remorse.

  “Ruby, would you stop? Besides, neither of you have conquered me,” Mary Margaret points out with air quotes.

  Ruby rolls her eyes. “Of course not. Prince Charming had already parked his car in your garage long ago.” She reverts her eyes to Emma. “If you’re looking for a relationship, he’s definitely not for you…” she leans over toward Emma, speaking softly, “but if you’re looking for a hookup to get over that cheating ex of yours, then he’s absolutely perfect for that. He’ll give you an orgasm sooooo hard, you’ll forget all about that scumbag. Then he’ll do it over and over again until he knows you won’t be able to walk for weeks.” Ruby grins wide. “Hell, you’ll forget your own fucking name for weeks.”

  Emma gulps, having to recover from the images Ruby implanted in her mind of the man on the other side of the bar. Once she recovers, she furrows her brows at the conclusions she’s drawn from Ruby’s graphic depictions of what a night with the handsome, dark-haired bartender would be like. “How would you know? Have you two—”

  Ruby laughs as though Emma just said the funniest thing she’s ever heard in her life. “Oh Gaaaaawwwwd, no! I don’t swing that way, honey,” she says, rising and waving off Emma’s words with a flick of her hand. “But I’ve seen the number Killian’s done on his conquests. People talk, especially the drunk, horny females who enter the bar. Plus, as I said, he’s my competition, so I have to know what he's working with… if you know what I mean,” she says with a wink.

  “Yeah, I got it,” Emma groans as Ruby saunters away. Why do all the hot guys have to be players? 

  It’s just her luck.

  Emma turns to catch another look at him. 

  God, he’s gorgeous. 

  Dark, wild hair, stubble on his chin and cheeks, and a fantastic body based on what she can see from her vantage point.

  “Emma! Don’t even think about it! That man’s trouble and you know David would never approve,” Mary Margaret explains, pulling Emma from her trance.

  She turns her head, glaring at her sister-in-law. “David is not my father. And besides, I’m a grown-ass woman! He can’t tell me who I can or cannot date.”

  Mary Margaret gives her a motherly look. “I know, sweetie, but this man doesn’t date women, he fucks them and then sends them packing. David only wants to protect you from guys like him.”

  “I don’t need his protection, okay? Or yours. I’m perfectly capable of looking out for myself.” Emma stands from her seat, and she’s not sure if it’s because of the alcohol still brewing in her system, or because her sister-law has expressed disapproval from both her and David, making this man seem like a forbidden, sinful dessert she’s dying to get a taste of, even though she’ll pay for it later. But right now she doesn't give a fuck. 

  She sucks in a breath and strides across the bar, ignoring Mary Margaret’s pleas and warnings.

  Her eyes are fixed on him like a magnet. He’s wearing a black v-neck that fits him like a glove and shows off a provocative amount of chest hair, his tight, firm muscles bulging as he wipes down the bar counter. His muscles aren’t inhumanly large, just big enough for her to imagine him picking her up and easily carrying her to his bedroom like she weighs nothing. Emma can feel her panties grow wet just from watching him work. 

  But even though she doesn’t wish to be told who to be with, she knows she should heed her sister-in-law’s warnings.

  What would one night of fun hurt, though? She’s spent too much time holed up in her New York apartment, wallowing in self-pity and heartache after Neal hurt her. She hasn’t been with anyone since then. And maybe she’s not looking to dive into a serious relationship right now. Or ever. Maybe she just wants to blow off some steam. And this man looks like he can handle such a task. She’s more than willing to find out. 

  Emma approaches the bar and stands in front of him, placing her hands on the counter. 

  “What can I get you, lass?”

  Well, fuck me sideways.

  He has a British accent too?

  She knows she should run for her life, but before she can talk herself out of it, he looks up from his task, and she feels like her feet are glued to the floor. 

  Ho-ly hell.

  He’s even more gorgeous up close.

  His arms are inked with tattoos she so badly wants to trace with her fingers, and his striking blue eyes sparkle as he stares at her, his smile showing off a set of pearly white teeth.

  Well shit.

  She couldn’t run away if she wanted to.

  ~*~

  Killian had been running back and forth behind the bar for hours, ringing up bar patrons, making drinks and engaging in small talk. It’s a typical Friday night at The Captain’s Rum; the place is normally busy on the weekends, especially since the bar is only a stone’s throw away from the university, and tonight is no exception. It’s crowded and loud, couples are dancing, and the women are scantily clad in either tiny dresses or short tops and skirts. As he’s grabbing beers and making cocktails, the bar continues to fill and grow louder. 

  He hands off drinks to a couple before moving on to the next customer. 

  “Hey Jones, can I get two Blue Ribbons?” his good mate, Robin, calls over the blaring music. 

  Killian chuckles and grabs the desired beers, popping off the caps before handing them over. “Taking it easy tonight?” he asks, leaning against the counter and gripping the edge of it with both hands.

  “Aye. Regina doesn’t like the hard stuff. She’s more of a wine person.”

  “Ah, I see.” Killian nods; he can definitely see that about Regina. He doesn't want to say this to one of his best mates, but the lass can be a little stuck up and quite bossy at times. She makes Robin happy though, so he keeps his mouth shut.

  He chats with him for a few minutes, finally getting a few minutes of reprieve. As Robin heads back to his girlfriend, Killian takes the opportunity to wipe down the bar top. But before he’s finished, someone approaches the counter. His eyes are still trained on his task, but he can’t miss the long blonde hair, pink lace and fantastic cleavage, seeing as the view is directly in front of him. “What can I get you, lass?” he asks, throwing on his most charming grin as he lifts his head.

  His smile is cemented on his face the second he looks up.

  Killian’s accustomed to seeing pretty women entering his brother’s bar and parading around in clothes that barely cover their essential parts.

  Yet nothing in the world could’ve prepared him for the woman standing in front of him on the other side of the bar counter.

  No, not woman. 

  Goddess.

  Emerald green eyes, soft pink lips curved into a shy smile, smooth creamy skin, long golden hair cascading over her shoulders.

  Good. 

  God.

  She’s breathtaking.

  Stunning.

  “What would you recommend?” she asks in a teasing tone.

  Fuck.

  Her voice is that of an angel’s. Pure and sweet and innocent.

  She looks like everything he doesn’t deserve but wants every... fucking... part of.

  “Uh… I um…” he stutters, scratching nervously behind his ear. He can’t form a cohesive sentence as he looks into those hypnotizing eyes. He wants to get lost in them, drown in them. “What are you… what are you in the mood for, love?” he finally musters, adding another one of his signature grins. “I can make you anything your heart desires.” What he wants to say is, “I can give you anything your heart desires,” but even that may not be true. As gorgeous as she is, he’s afraid he wouldn’t be the man she deserves. He’s never been the guy women like to take home to their parents, anyway. He’s the guy chicks like to have around for a good time before they eventually settle into a serious relationship with Mr. Perfect. He’s definitely no Mr. Perfect, more like a Good Luck Chuck, but at the moment, he feels like he could be fucking Superman for this woman. And he's only exchanged a few words with her so far.

  She arches a brow and it’s literally the most adorable and sexiest thing he’s ever witnessed in his life. “Anything?” He senses a challenge in her tone. 

  “Try me,” he encourages.

  She bites her bottom lip in thought.

  He lied. Now that’s the most adorable and sexiest thing he’s ever witnessed.

  “What if I said I wanted a Baby Yodarita?”

  He arches a brow, very much intrigued. “A Baby Yodarita? Never heard of it.”

  She laughs and the sound is music to his ears. “That's because I made up the name. But I figure it would be a green drink that looks like baby Yoda.”

  “So, I take it you’re a Star Wars fan?”

  “Are you a bartender?” 

  Just as he answers like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, since he’s behind the bar serving drinks, he catches her drift and flashes a smirk.

  Could this woman be any hotter? And yes, as he’s asking this question in his head, he’s picturing Chandler Bing and the way he would say it, emphasizing the word be. Gods, he hates that he knows that about Friends. He hates that he actually likes that show.

  “You don't really have to be a Star Wars fan to be a baby Yoda fan though. He's so cute, he's trending on the internet, haven't you seen?”

  He chuckles. “Aye, who hasn't?” 

  She plants her hand on her hip, donning a sultry smirk. “So, are you up for the task, or not?”

  He licks his lips and leans over the bar counter, his eyes locked with hers. He wants to ask her if she fell from heaven. Or if he just died and went to heaven. But he has a feeling cheesy lines wouldn't work on a woman like her. “I'm afraid you'll have to be more specific as to what task you’re referring to, love.” But who the fuck is he kidding? There is nothing he could do for her he would consider a task. 

  Only a pleasure.

  Blush paints her cheeks and she leans over, meeting him halfway until her face is mere inches from his. “I have a few in mind… but how ‘bout that drink, first?” 

  Bloody. Fuck-ing. Hell.

  Her voice is a mixture of sweet and seductive. He doesn’t know how she manages to pull off a combination like that. His eyes drop to her lips and he’s seriously considering kissing the holy fuck out of her over the bar counter, audience be damned. He almost groans just thinking about her soft, luscious looking lips pressed against his, but he swallows the sound before it leaves his throat.

  He lifts his eyes to hers. “Sit tight, sweetheart.” 

  “Okay,” she says with a smile and takes a seat on a barstool. “Oh, and a Cosmo for my sister-in-law.”

  “Coming right up.” It takes every ounce of strength within him to pull away, but somehow he does. 

  He has to take slow, deep breaths to peel his mind from the fantasies he’s already having of him and the blonde temptress watching him intently as he prepares her drink. 

  ~*~

  Emma snorts. She honestly didn’t think he would actually take her seriously. She was only kidding around. But he took her very seriously and eagerly accepted her challenge. And he did an amazing job.

  She stares at the green drink in amusement, impressed, to say the least. He brought it to her in a margarita glass with two lime wedges sticking out like ears. The stem is wrapped in a napkin tied with twine and clearly made to look like Baby Yoda’s coat. And there's a cocktail stick tucked into the twine like a sword. 

  “Well? How did I do?” he asks, eagerly seeking her answer.

  “It's so cute,” she comments honestly. “It looks great, but does it taste as good as it looks?” As she asks that question, she’s looking up into his gorgeous eyes. And she can’t deny she’s wondering the same about him. 

  Does he taste as good as he looks? 

  Before she brings the glass to her lips, he puts up a finger to stop her. 

  “Hold on.” He grabs a toothpick and stabs two cherries, one on each end, before sticking it into the drink, giving the baby Yoda a pair of eyes. “For the finishing touch,” he smirks.

  After she stops laughing, she takes a hesitant drink. Once she takes the first sip, her face sours and she blinks a few times as she swallows. “Wow, that’s strong.” She arches her brow, pinning him with an accusatory stare. “Are you trying to get me drunk?”

  He chuckles. “Aye, isn't that the intention?” 

  She nods and grins. “This will certainly do the trick.” She rises from the stool and reaches into her back pocket, pulling out her phone case wallet, which holds her phone and money. “How much?” she asks, pulling out some cash.

  He waves off her offer. “The drinks are on me,” he says with a wink.

  “Are you sure? I don't wanna get you in trouble.”

  “Trust me, I won't get in trouble.”

  Taking his word for it, she tucks the cash into her wallet. “Thanks for the drinks, Killian.”

  He arches a sultry brow, making her heart skip a beat. “So, you’ve heard of me, but I have yet to learn your name?”

  She laughs and points at the name embroidered into his shirt. “Yours is right there.”

  “Oh, that,” he chuckles, a light blush tinting his cheeks as he peers down and brushes his fingers over the letters. “My boss insists we have our names displayed on our shirts.”

  “Well, your boss sounds like a pain in the ass.”

  “He is, but I only have to work here for another six months. I’m graduating from SBU in the Spring.”

  She nods as a group of people approach the counter beside her. She glances over at them and shifts her gaze back to him, wishing he had more time to chat, but she knows he has to work. “It's Emma,” she makes sure to tell him before the counter becomes too overcrowded. “My name,” she clarifies, in case that wasn't obvious.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Emma,” he says sweetly, reaching over to shake her hand. When she slips her palm into his, she can feel the sparks from his touch, but instead of shaking her hand, he brings it to his lips and kisses the back of it.

  Oh, God.

  This man’s lips on her skin feel like heaven and sin. She has to clench her thighs to stop the throbbing she feels between her legs.

  Fuck.

  She feels the loss when she pulls her hand away and sees the loss written all over his face. “Well, I should um… I should get back to my sister-in-law,” she stammers after learning how to form words again.

  He scratches behind his ear and opens his mouth to speak before closing it again like he’s nervous about something. “Of course, love.”

  Emma swallows thickly and lingers a bit, patiently waiting for him to say what’s on his mind. 

  He must sense she's waiting for him because as she grabs the drinks and starts to back away from the counter, his voice stops her. “Emma?”

  Good Lord, she loves the way her name slides off his tongue.

  She cocks a brow, hoping he's about to ask for her number. Praying he does. “Yes?”

  “I um… can you come back here before you leave? Say in an hour when it slows down a bit? I’d love to chat with you some more,” he says sincerely.

  Emma purses her lips like she has to mull over his question. The offer is extremely tempting. But she has something else in mind other than talking. Something involving his hands all over her body and her legs wrapped around his hips as he's plunging into her. 

  And you know what? Fuck it.

  She’s sure whatever he has in mind is exactly what she has in mind. Or at least, close to it. “Sure.”

  His eyes widen in excitement and surprise, as though he wasn't actually expecting her to say yes. “Really?”

  She flashes him her sexiest grin. “Yeah, why not? I’ll see you in an hour.”

  “See you then, love. Enjoy your drink. May the booze be with you.” 

  She snorts and backs away from the counter, holding up her glass in salute before taking a sip. Their eyes are still locked before she turns around.

  As she walks away, she cranes her neck to see him still watching her, even as he's serving other customers. She winks at him and has the pleasure of witnessing that adorable pink blush coloring his cheeks and the smirk on his lips before she faces forward and heads back to Mary Margaret. 

  She’s not looking forward to the lecture her sister-in-law is about to give her, but honestly, she doesn't care. She's looking forward to returning to the hot bartender, hoping to go back to his bedroom. Or the restroom. Either will do, really. As long as she gets to have him.

  After Mary Margaret is done chewing Emma out and reminding her of what a player Killian is, and after she finally realizes Emma is going to do what she wants, regardless of what anyone says, they are able to have some fun. 

  Ruby keeps the drinks coming, and soon they’re tipsy enough to get up and dance among the crowd of gyrating bodies already on the dance floor. Emma glances over at the counter every now and then, and every other time, she catches Killian staring at her, sending shivers down her spine. And every time he tosses her one of his cheeky smiles, her stomach flutters with butterflies. 

  Emma's thankful Mary Margaret is plastered enough to let loose and not give her any shit because she has no idea what Mary Margaret would do if Emma told her she's going back to talk to Killian. Though she has a feeling if Mary Margaret were sober, she'd do anything in her power to make sure Emma stayed away from him. 

  When the time finally comes, they order an Uber, which takes much longer than expected. She helps Mary Margaret into the backseat and tells her she's staying for a bit longer and will catch another Uber when she's ready to leave. She doesn't dare mention Killian's name, or that she plans on leaving with him, for fear Mary Margaret will blabber to her brother. Because then he'll come marching into the bar on his white horse to find his sister with the bartender and embarrass the hell out of her.

  Mary Margaret's too drunk and in no shape to talk her out of anything, so Emma’s able to escape, knowing her brother will take care of his wife when she gets home. 

  Emma quickly shoots David a text to let him know his wife had a few too many drinks and is on her way home in an Uber and that Emma decided to stay a little longer but will be home soon. Which is a lie. 

  She hopes. 

  Before the Uber drives away, Emma slips her phone into her pocket before heading back into the bar. She's fifteen minutes late, but it's not like Killian can go anywhere. He’s the bartender.

  Once inside, she takes a deep breath and tucks some hair behind her ears, a smile playing along her lips as she makes her way to the bar counter. She has no idea what exactly will happen once she reaches him, but with a face as gorgeous as his, she’s pretty sure she would let him do anything he wanted to.

  She’s also pretty sure he could help Emma get over her ex. As they say, the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else. And that’s exactly what she plans on doing.

  As Emma nears the counter and spots Killian, the beaming smile on her face immediately falls flat.

  And her heart sinks.

  A busty blonde is standing at the bar, her hand running up and down Killian’s arm, her fingers tracing his tattoos. The woman is sitting on a barstool at the opposite side of the counter in a low-cut top that leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination, and a skirt so short and tight it looks like it's been painted on. Killian’s standing in front of her, so his back is to Emma as he gives his full attention to the other blonde. It's almost time for last call, so it's now much quieter in the bar, and she's close enough to be able to hear their conversation.

  “What can I get you, love?”

  “A Tequila.”

  “Tequilas are trouble,” he says matter-of-factly.

  She moves in closer, biting her smile. “So am I,” she taunts.

  “I’m fully aware,” he replies with a chuckle. He tries to move, probably to make her Tequila, but she grabs his arm, forcing him to stay. Though, forcing is a bit of an overstatement; Killian doesn't seem to be putting up much of a fight. “Would you like a snack, too?”

  Mischief dances in her eyes as she licks her lips, ogling him like he’s the snack. “I’m looking at it, honey.”

  Emma feels like she's going to be sick. 

  The woman leans in and bites his ear and then pulls away slightly. “Last weekend was incredible. Can’t stop thinking about having my legs wrapped around you,” she giggles.

  Jealousy stabs Emma’s gut and disappointment shoots through her like a lightning bolt, bringing her back to reality.

  Mary Margaret and Ruby were totally right. 

  He’s a player. 

  Unable to listen to them for another second, Emma spins on her heels and dashes out the door so fast, she almost tramples over some guys heading in at the last minute. 

  She should’ve listened to the warnings, but she was too blinded by the attraction she felt for Killian. 

  God, she’s a fucking idiot. 

  Why does she always fall for the dangerous guys? The ones who are bad for her? Why can’t she just find a nice guy for once? Someone safe. Someone who won’t stomp on her heart and discard it like trash without batting an eye.

  She pushes open the door, tears stinging her eyes as she runs outside into the bitter, chilly night, hoping the Uber driver hasn’t taken off yet. But it's wishful thinking because she can't think of a reason why he wouldn't have left by now.

  “Ooof.”

  The air rushes from her lungs as she slams into a tall, solid mass. 

  Hands are gripping her arms to keep her from falling as apologies leave her lips. “Sorry.” She looks up at the man towering over her, Emma's eyes connecting with soft blue ones, which are full of apology. 

  He flashes a warm smile, his lips framed by a light brown scruff.

  “I’m the one who should be sorry, lass. I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.” 

  Shit.

  He has an accent too? 

  What’s with all the accents in this town? She’s noticed a lot of the locals here weren’t actually born here. Or the States. She didn’t realize how much she liked men with foreign accents until tonight.

  This man continues to apologize, but he doesn’t sound very sorry. At least not for crashing into her. “I was distracted,” he says with a smirk, giving Emma the impression she was what he was distracted by.

  Emma tears herself from the trance she’s in and glances at the side of the road, where the Uber once was. “Shit,” she curses under her breath.

  “Are you okay?” he asks in genuine concern.

  “Yeah, it’s just… my ride has already left. And I’m too drunk to drive home,” she sighs.

  Before the man can respond, his phone chimes from his jacket. “Excuse me,” he says apologetically, pulling out the device. He studies whatever’s on the screen with a worried expression, then looks up at her, his mouth slightly agape.

  “Everything okay?” she asks with an arched brow, starting to shiver as a frigid wind sweeps around her.

  “Um, yeah.” He glances at his phone again before lifting his gaze. “You wouldn’t happen to be Emma, would you?”

  She freezes and just stares at him, not knowing how to answer that. Or rather, why she should answer that.

  What the hell? 

  She's never seen this man before in her life, so how does he know her name? 

  Her heart pounds and she wants to run, but she's afraid she’s not sober enough for that at the moment. “How do you know my name?”

  He appears to be hesitant as he holds up his phone, showing her his screen.

  Emma takes it in her hands so she can get a better look.

  Her eyes widen when she sees a text from a Nolan.

  Nolan, as in her brother? Who else with the last name, Nolan, lives with a Mary Margaret and an Emma?

  Nolan: I just received a text from Emma. She sent Mary Margaret home in an Uber and is at your bar. Can you make sure she gets home all right?

  Her blood sizzles as she rereads the message. Then she reads the texts before it, a couple in particular sticking out like sore thumbs.

  Nolan: So… I have a huge favor to ask.

  Me: Sure, what’s up, mate?

  Nolan: The wife and sister are going to the Rabbit Hole tonight. Emma just moved here from New York after a terrible break-up and Mary Margaret is determined to hook her up with someone.

  Nolan: Think you have time to get away from work and keep an eye on my sister, make sure she doesn’t find any trouble? 

  What the actual fuck?

  Why is her brother having this man spy on her?

  Emma turns around and pulls back the hand still holding the phone, about to toss the damn thing.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa, don’t shoot the messenger, love,” he pleads. “I need my phone.”

  The endearment makes her shiver. Killian had called her love, too.

  She spins around to glare at the stranger. “David’s using you to spy on me?” she demands firmly.

  He holds up his hands in surrender. “I didn’t want to, lass, I promise, but I would’ve felt terrible if I said no and then, later on, found out something bad happened to you. I promise, I was only helping a friend and looking out for you.”

  Emma sighs and hands his phone back, knowing he’s telling the truth. She saw his responses to David’s texts and gathered he didn’t wish to put his nose where it didn’t belong or to stir up any trouble. “David always has been good at persuading people,” she grumbles.

  “Aye, especially when it comes to protecting the ones he loves,” he winks. 

  “Even so, he has no business spying on me!” she states louder than intended.

  “I wholeheartedly agree,” he states adamantly, making sure to express how much he was against this whole idea, to begin with.

  Emma crosses her arms over her chest, wondering how she never saw him at the Rabbit Hole when she was there. “So, you spied on me at the Rabbit Hole?”

  He shakes his head. “No, I didn’t get the chance to. By the time I got there, you and Mary Margaret were already gone.”

  Emma shakes her head and rolls her eyes at the thought of her own brother asking someone to spy on her. But she’s not surprised. “Brothers are so annoying,” she grumbles.

  He chuckles, and the deep, hearty sound warms her heart a little, despite the chill in the air. “Agreed.”

  She arches her brow, as though to ask him to expand on why.

  “I have one of those, too. So I get it.”

  Emma’s features soften, a small smile pulling at her lips. “Older or younger?”

  “Younger. He can be quite the ponce sometimes, but at the end of the day, I’d lay down my life for him.”

  “I usually feel the same about David… and then he goes and pulls something like this,” Emma remarks bitterly.

  “I take it he does this a lot?”

  “He did when we were younger. But then I moved to New York and he came here, so we didn’t see each other very much.”

  “Ah, I see.”

  Another gust of wind makes her shiver and has him removing his jacket and offering it to her. Even though she’s already wearing one.

  “May I?”

  She cocks a brow. “Won’t you be cold?”

  He shrugs. “I rarely get cold.”

  She gives him a soft nod. He looks like he’d be the type of man who knows how to stay warm, and therefore knows how to keep a woman warm. He has those big, strong arms and broad shoulders, and he’s very tall. She could picture herself being buried in his warmth, but maybe because she's currently freezing her ass off. “Thanks,” she murmurs when he goes behind her and drapes the jacket over her shoulders. 

  “It’s my pleasure, love.” When he’s standing in front of her again, he sticks out his hand. “The name’s Liam.”

  Emma smiles and slips her palm in his. 

  She was right. He is warm. Very warm. “I think David’s mentioned your name a few times.”

  “Probably not as much as he talks about you. In fact, I feel like I already know you,” he chuckles as they break the handshake.

  “Hopefully, he had good things to say?” She almost groans at the idea of David spewing a bunch of embarrassing stories about her from when she was a kid.

  “Aye. Very good things… well, mostly,” he admits. “But who doesn’t have at least a complaint or two about their siblings?”

  She nods in agreement. “True. I complain about him all the time.”

  He grins big and wide. “I don’t doubt that.” When his smile fades a little, he scratches his head as he looks at her, hesitant to form the next words he wants to say. “Well, uh… seeing as it’s,” he checks his watch, “almost two o’clock and not getting any warmer out here, how about I give you a ride home?”

  Emma twists her lips in thought. Normally she wouldn’t even think twice about rejecting a ride from a stranger, but there’s something about this guy that tells her he’s not a serial killer or rapist. There’s something pure about him, a vast contrast to the bartender inside. That guy screamed danger and sin, but this man standing before her gives off completely different vibes. He has a warm personality, which is very refreshing, and he has honest eyes. Besides, she may not be able to stand her brother and his antics sometimes, but he's always had good taste in friends. And if David trusts Liam enough to keep tabs on his sister, then he must be trustworthy.

  So with a feeble smile, she finally answers. “Okay.”

Tagging people who have shown interest. Let me know if you would like to be added. @itsfabianadocarmo​ @resident-of-storybrooke @onceuponaprincessworld @viajandosinalas @teamhook​ @captainswan-shipper88 @jamif @katielovesstarcrossedlovers @uhthreeyuh @lfh1226-linda @babyyouremyqueen @sthonour @julesep3026 @fairytalewhispersinmyheart @andiirivera @wefoundloveunderthelight @wickedsw4n @eleveneitherway @eherron14 @ouatpost @transparentclodsludgeweasel