you are too valuable a hostage

Problematic Crushes

Summary: The Flash rescues you and creates some unnecessary problems within your love life.

It felt like nearly everyone knew of Barry’s secret identity. So the fact that he had managed to keep that from you still was nearly unbelievable.

But, in a way, Barry almost always preferred it. This way he was able to spend time with you without letting Flash business get in the way. Almost like as soon as he saw you all the troubles he encountered that day faded away and he was free.

But that also had his drawbacks since it was like he was hiding a part of his life from you and you weren’t oblivious to this fact. He wasn’t a great liar and you weren’t stupid. But you also weren’t one to pry. He’d tell you or you’d confront him eventually. Lucky for him, that time hasn’t come yet.

But Barry has proven time and time again that he’s no good with keeping secrets.

-

Cisco’s name popped up on Barry’s phone and he nearly ignored it since he was already so behind with his paperwork and Cisco was probably just bored and wanted to talk to someone. At the last second he decided to against himself and reached to answer his phone.

“Hey Cisco,” Barry sighed, now splitting his attention between the boy on the phone and some crime scene write ups.

“Barry!” Cisco exclaimed. “Where are you? I’ve called you twice already. Never mind that,” Cisco sighed annoyingly. “There’s some type of hold up at the office Y/n works at. No more information is known at this point since they’re keeping the whole building on lockdown until their demands are met.”

At the very mention of your name, Barry ran off and quickly dressed in his suit while he talked with Cisco on his earpiece instead.

“Are they metas or just regular criminals?” Barry asked, not really bothering to wait for an answer and he sped to the familiar office building.

“Don’t know,” Cisco replied. “Just figured you’d want to know that she was in trouble either way. Metas or no metas. News says there are reports of hostages.”

Barry silently agreed as he cautiously passed the police brigade and ran right into the lion’s den.

Thankfully, it was regular everyday criminals and wouldn’t take Barry too long to fix this situation.

There were about six men, all wearing military camouflage in combination with their rifles. Barry would be scared if he couldn’t stop a speeding bullet but thankfully he could.

At first the perpetrators didn’t notice him as they were too busy raiding cash registers and breaking into anything else that looked like it contained something valuable. There was no obvious hostages, meaning no one was lying on the floor with guns pointing at them but he also didn’t doubt that there were hidden in another room. He just prayed that you were alright.

Quickly, he took down the three men in the room before they were to notice him. Step one, complete. Step two was to try and free the hostages Cisco told him about. And step two is where many more things could go wrong.

The next room was clear, leading Barry into a much bigger office space. Countless cubicles filled the room while the three other men patrolled the hostages.

This time, they noticed him and were quick to aim other guns.

Shots were fired but Barry dodged them all with a smug grin on his face. “Gonna have to try harder than a few measly bullets to stop me.”

One man whispered something into the other’s ear with a smile on his face as they took action. “If bullets can’t stop you then maybe this can.” Without a second thought he pointed the gun at the hostages. Barry’s eyes fell on you and he instantly took off running. He caught the twelve bullets that were unleashed and his hands stung slightly at the pain. But that sting was nothing compared to the fear he felt over the possibility of losing you.

Screw the money, they could take that. Right now he had to rescue the innocent people that just happened to get caught up in this mess. There were only five hostages but there was no way he could transport them all at once.

And, just his luck, you were one of the hostages.

He automatically reached for you first but you shook your head. “No,” your voice quivered as rejected his request to save you first. “Help them first. Natasha’s hurt, I can wait, Flash.”

Barry debated this for a second but he knew how stubborn you could be and he didn’t have any time to waste.

Finally the other four hostages were safe in police care. “Are you okay?” He automatically asked once you were outside the building. The police instantly charged in the building to take back control and capture the perpetrators.

You were obviously shaken at the near death experience but you wouldn’t let The Flash know that. “I’m okay…”

Barry instantly took you into his arms and gave you the tightest hug imaginable. And that’s when you broke.

Central City was supposed to be a safe place with The Flash and he usually proved that to be true but it seemed like today was a very close call. As soon as those shots rang, you were sure that was the end of it. Sobs racked through your body as you buried your head into his neck. “Thank you.”

“It’s okay,” Barry whispered, rubbing your back in an attempt to calm you down and he refused to let go of you till you’ve substantially calmed down. “I’ve got you. You’re alright.” He cooed in your ear. Finally when your breathing eventually evened out he pulled back slightly, only enough so he could get a good look at your face. When he glimpsed the tears staining your cheeks, he was quick to wipe them away. “You’re okay.”

Instinctively, he pressed his lips to yours in a quick, reassuring kiss before he bolted away to his next task.

-

And these incidents seemed to occur much more frequently after this little encounter.

A bank robbery, you just happened to be there. A meta causing a ruckus in the park, there you were. You just happened to be on the train ride that a meta decided to hijack.

Maybe this was all a coincidence and Barry was just over analyzing things but it seemed to him like you were suddenly throwing yourself in harm’s way and Barry had to get to the bottom of why.

Just as he decided to investigate, his phone went off.

A text from you: We need to talk…

-

“Hi, Bare,” You smiled, setting your purse down on the coffee table while you shrugged off your coat.

Barry’s palms were sweating as he noticed how relaxed you were. Didn’t ’We need to talk…’ mean ’I’m actually going to break up with you’?

“It’s freezing cold for November. Should'a worn a scarf and hat like you suggested this s'mornin.”

“I thought we had to talk about something.” Barry finally sputtered out, fearing the worst. He couldn’t stand anymore small talk if things were about to end here.

You sighed. “Yeah, I guess we do have to talk. I don’t even know where to start.” An awkward laugh escaped you as you picked at your chipping nail polish. “I assume you’ve noticed that I’ve been acting a bit off this past week?”

He nodded. Ever since the attack on your work, he’d noticed things were different. At first he assumed that you had discovered he was the Flash and you were pulling away due to that. He didn’t know what else it could have been. Everything seemed to be perfect up until that day. Eventually he just decided that you were dealing with the aftershocks of the attack but you would eventually come to terms with that and things would return to normal.

“I don’t know where to start,” you repeated, running through the events that led you to this exact moment. “I can’t lie to you, and I don’t want to either which is why I’m telling you this now. Remember how I told you all about the attack on my work and how the Flash saved us all?”

Barry nodded, suddenly unsure as to how this related considering how the direction of this conversation was surely headed to the whole ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ spiel.

“Well,” You awkwardly fidgeted with your fingers while you avoided looking at him. “After the others were safe, Flash ran me to safety and, for some reason, he wanted to make sure I was okay. I don’t know if he did it with the other hostages or if it was just me, but that isn’t really important now.”

Barry stayed silent. He knew he had screwed up that day but he was so worried that he wasn’t in the right mindset to begin with, knowing you were a part of that situation. He was thrown off and now he was going to have to face the consequences.

“Long story short, he ended up kissing me. And… and Bare I feel so awful.” Wiping tears off your cheeks, you finally met his gaze and Barry felt his stomach twist at how torn up you were and how he was the cause of this. “I don’t know if you’d consider this cheating since, y'know, everyone has a different definition of it but I do. I totally view that as cheating and maybe I wouldn’t if I had pushed him away or regretted it after. But instead I just wanted to see him again and ask him why. Why would he kiss me? And I wish I had told you sooner because you deserve to know but I didn’t want to actually admit that it happened but it’s the least I could do since you deserve to know.”

“Y/n,” Barry gulped, wrapping his hands around your clasped ones. He knew he had to come clean since he was the reason for this situation. “I would consider this cheating.”

Wrong thing to say. He thought he’d be clever and witty, trying to make the situation a bit lighter but he only mad it worse as a choked cry escaped your mouth. Barry pulled you into a hug, rubbing your back and humming quietly to soothe you, similarly to how he did that day.

“I would consider it cheating,” he repeated, “If it weren’t for the fact that it was me who kissed you out of fear that I could’ve possibly lost you that day. I kissed you in hopes to soothe you as well as to satisfy my constant need to kiss you whenever I see you.”

As your cries quieted, Barry pulled back slightly to wipe your face. “Wha…?” It was clear what he was insinuating but he couldn’t possibly be telling the truth.

“It’s not cheating if you kissed me. I’m the Flash, baby.”



A/N: I don’t really know how I feel about this one but please tell me your thoughts on this. I don’t like it too much to be honest.

Left Unsaid

A/N: An anon request for a Spencer x Reader where she takes a bullet for him. Spencer is broken because he’s afraid he won’t be able to tell her how he’s always felt about her. @coveofmemories

                                                              —-

She looked on as the unsub held the gun to Spencer’s head. There had to be a way to get Spencer away from him. “Take me,” she said without thinking. “Take me instead.” She would paint herself as a weak woman. Given the unsub’s misogynistic and narcissistic nature, he’d likely take her instead. He’d inherently believe that Spencer had more strength than she did, although the opposite was true.

When she repeated herself, a look of abject terror washed across Spencer’s face. “What are you doing?” he mouthed. 

But she paid him no mind. Her only thought was about getting him to let go of Spencer. “Take me,” she repeated.

“Why would I do that?” The unsub pointed his gun toward her, but he seemed intrigued by the possibility of a female hostage, so she took the opportunity. 

As Y/N told the unsub that a female hostage was inherently more valuable to him, that she’d be easier to control and easier to move around than a man, all Spencer could think of was that if something happened to either of them, he’d never get the change to tell her how he felt. For years, he’d harbored feelings for her, but had always been too afraid to confess; if he made it out of this, he would. No more holding back. “I would be easier for you to handle than him…take me.”

“Walk toward me,” he said, and she did, allowing him to reach for her belt and throw her gun to the ground. A wash of relief and a subsequent wave of terror cascaded over her when he pushed Spencer to the side and grabbed her around the neck by his arm. “You’re with me now,” he said into her neck, his heated breath sending shivers down her spine. As he spoke, she could see that he was making eye contact with Spencer, trying to get under his skin, and she knew it was working. 

He backed away with her; Y/N could tell that the team was running through every possibility they had. Could they take a shot and hit him? But what if they hit her? She knew they wouldn’t take the shot - it was too risky and they cared too much. They’d rely on her ability to get herself away from him and follow behind as best they could. “Get in the car,” the man growled. “And stay down low.”

The screech of car tires rattled through her ears as he drove off, leaving the rest of her team behind. “Hotch!” Spencer panicked. “What do we do? We have to get her back.” In this moment, anyone could tell what he felt for Y/N - if they didn’t already know before. “He didn’t take her cellphone, can we track it?”

“Garcia,” Hotch said. “Track Y/N’s cellphone. She was taken by the unsub.”

“Oh my god,” she cried, her fingers hitting the keyboard at light speed. “Pinging her location now. And sending it to you. Go get her.” Anytime one of her babies was in trouble, Garcia immediately started to panic. “Bring her back.”

                                                             —-

“I need out of here,” the man said, searching the streets for a way out. She could suggest a road to take. But even if she told him the truth, he undoubtedly wouldn’t take her word for it. 

“You’re not going to get away with this,” she said softly, clenching onto the arm rest of the man’s hijacked car. “My team is going to find you.” His mouth dropped open and another shock rolled through her. It looked as though the lightbulb had just done off in his head. Like he knew exactly what he needed to do to make it out of this mess.

He jerked the wheel to the left and went down a particular straight she knew would lead them toward a local precinct. “You know where you’re going?” she asked. 

“I know exactly where I’m going,” he said coolly. 

The beads of sweat began to fall down the length of her spine as they got closer and closer to the police station. Should she just bail out and roll out on the side of the road? It might be her only way out of this. But as soon as she made the decision to open the car door, he pulled up to the police station, ripped out his gun and shot her in the stomach, pushing her out of the car and onto the ground as he sped away.

                                                            —-

Spencer, JJ and Emily had been sent in one direction, while Rossi, Hotch and Derek went in another. Nearly every member of the nearby precinct was sent off in other directions to track this man down, but no one was having any luck. That was until JJ saw someone lying in the middle of the road. “That’s her!” she screamed, pulling to the side and running out of the car. 

His breath was knocked out of his lungs as he saw a small pool of blood forming under Y/N’s body. “Oh my god,” he said, turning her over and putting pressure on the wound.”What happened?”

“He drove off,” she sputtered, her vision going in and out as she tried to speak. But as he’d sped away, she took note of where he was going and what his license plate was. “He went left.” She grimaced, looking down at her wound with tears in her eyes. Her stomach was on fire. “License plate was Charlie, Bravo, 4, 2, 7 , 8…I’m sorry.”

Spencer swallowed hard and pushed down on her stomach just as the ambulance showed up. “I’m coming with you,” he called to the EMTs. “Why are you sorry?”

“I couldn’t stop him,” she whispered. She was starting to get cold. “Spence, I need you to do something for me.”

“Anything,” he said as the tears streamed from his normally shining eyes. 

She knew him. She knew him inside and out, and there was no way he wouldn’t blame himself for whatever happened next. As the heat slowly left her body, she  sensed that she was about to die; she wasn’t scared for herself, but she was for him. “Don’t blame yourself,” she said. In the distance, she could hear him saying no, to not let go, but her body wasn’t cooperating no matter how hard she tried. “This wasn’t your fault…It was my choice…even now…I’d do it again. I love you, Spence.”

“Y/N don’t go,” he sobbed, his voice cracking as he grabbed tighter onto her hand. “Don’t go. I have so much I need to say. Please, don’t leave me.” 

Was it raining outside? She felt a drop of water on her face and didn’t know where it was coming from. 

Then another. 

And another. 

It was him. 

She wanted to tell him to say what he needed to say now, because she wasn’t going to make it much longer, but she couldn’t make the words go from her brain to her mouth. As she drifted off into the cold abyss, she saw a faint light in front of her. Maybe there was something else out there. 

“Y/N,” he wept. “Please hang on. We’re so close.” When he looked down, he saw her squeeze his hand gently, her touch barely perceptible if he hadn’t been looking. 

And then there was nothing. 

“No!” he screamed. “Y/N! Stay with me! Stay with me!” The flatline sound wasn’t real. This couldn’t be happening. There was too much left unsaid. The words spilled out of him. He cried how much he loved her, how much he’d always loved her, how he never wanted for her to give his life for his. He would’ve died for her a thousand times over. But there was no response. She was gone - his words had been said, but were left unheard.

Negotiate

For the anon who asked for the reader whose a hostage negotiator.

“I get it.” You tell the very angry, very large man holding a gun on you. “Your wife was such a bitch. Lying to you like that but I don’t think killing this woman will solve your problem.”
“She’s a lying bitch too! I’m just doing what her fucking husband was too weak to do!”
“Please don’t. Please!” You beg, “Let her go. I’ll stay with you.”
“Why would I want you?” He sneers, not moving the gun from where it’s pointed at his most recent victim.
“Because I’m much more valuable to the FBI. As an Agent they’ll do just about anything to get me back safe.”
“Give me a plane.”
“Let’s talk about it.” You can see a sniper setting up in a window behind him, hopefully he doesn’t turn or it’s not going to end well. You’re feeling that sick feeling in the pit of your stomach that tells you this probably isn’t going to end well for him.
“I let her go. Then you and I get on a plane and I’ll let you go once we’re somewhere they won’t extradite me.”
“I don’t know about all of that. If you let her go we can talk about it.”
“I’m done talking!” He yells and that’s when you make your move. You lunge for the gun in his hand. “What!” He yells again as you struggle for the gun. It fires once, the bullet whizzing up and into the ceiling. The second time it fires the bullet flies into a wall, the sniper must not have a shot. The unsub, Karl, twists just right and gets off one last shot. This one doesn’t go harmlessly anywhere but goes up under the bottom edge of your vest.
You hear two more shots before what happened has fully registered. You crumple to the ground, the blood warm on your fingers.
“No!” Hotch’s cries rushing to you. “We need paramedics!” He calls unstrapping your vest.
“Aaron.” You breathe.
“Hey, relax. You’re going to be fine.” He soothes putting his hands over yours. You let out a small whimper as he presses down on the wound. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He says softly looking down at you.
“Aaron I’m sorry. He-he was too strong.” You mutter.
“It wasn’t your fault sweetheart. You did everything you could.”
“Is she safe?”
“Yea. You saved her. Now relax, you need to keep your eyes open. Stay with me okay baby?” He says his hazel eyes searching your face. It’s like he can tell you’re struggling to keep your eyes open. “Where’s that paramedic?” He yells, the panic evident in his voice.
“I-I can’t. Hotch I’m so tired. I-I love you.” You wheeze.
“I love you too. You’ve gotta stay with me!” He pleads, “Stay with me.”
“Aaron, I’m sorry.” You mumble as your vision fades to black, you’re so sorry.
“No!”

in response to Robb Stark hate I’ve seen floating about:

he’s a kid. literally. he’s thirteen at the start of the series, sixteen when he dies. he’s a teenaged boy who has a fuckton of responsibility placed suddenly on him, who’s ill-equipped to deal with them bc he’s never been taught about how to be a king, just how to be a lord of Winterfell - and Winterfell is pretty tiny, when compared to, you know, having to be lord over the North, which is said to be bigger than all the other kingdoms put together.

did he fuck up? well, yes. he’s a kid, fuck-ups are going to be had, because he’s a goddamn teenager in a position of power. he can’t trade the Kingslayer for his sisters because, as he sees it, his bannermen - you know, the people who MADE him king - would not be too pleased that he traded a very valuable hostage in turn for two girls. (he also later admits to his mother that he should’ve traded the Kingslayer for his sisters, anyway - he cares, deeply, for his siblings, he’s the sort of person who would befriend his dad’s bastard and his dad’s ward, both of whom are frowned upon as friends by his mom, and keep them as friends for years. the thing is, when you’re in a position of leadership? you HAVE to put ties of friendship and family aside, for the good of the kingdom, and that’s what Robb finds himself doing re: keeping Jaime Lannister as a hostage.)

was bedding Jeyne Westerling smart? heavens, no. but you have to remember, at this point, he’s just come out of a fever, he’s just learned his best friend took his home and killed his brothers, he’s been bottling up his own grief about his father’s death for a while, and he’s been fighting a war. not only that, but nobody would’ve blamed him, I suppose, if he’d just not married Jeyne W. but he did, because he remembers how his mother would treat Jon Snow, and he doesn’t want Jeyne’s kid to grow up a bastard, because he’s seen what a life that would be. (and Jon was one of those who was privileged enough to be acknowledged and folded into the family.) also he is a goddamn teenager under a lot of stress.

plus: he’s a great strategist, you think he didn’t at least weigh the pros and cons of this? he did, he definitely did, but he went through with it anyway because he didn’t want Jeyne’s honor to be tarnished. JEYNE’S honor. Robb considers other people in his decisions too, especially those who might be most affected. I’m still not saying it was a smart decision - a lot of the time I just look at Robb in the books and sigh deeply in his direction like “I am so embarrassed for you” - but to him, it was the right one to make.

and also: for all that he fucked up, he did surprisingly well as a king. look at the other boy kings in this setting: Joffrey Baratheon? complete and utter prick, fires crossbow bolts into crowds just for the hell of it, also abusive towards Sansa. Tommen Baratheon? he is a fucking kid, he’s nine years old (I think?) and while he is a great deal nicer he can also be easily manipulated by the adults around him into making decisions that do not bode well for the people of Westeros. Robb manages to win all his battles, in contrast, and the respect of his bannermen as well, and to top it off, he’s a decent person at heart. yes, he does fuck up, but this is Westeros - who hasn’t, at one point or another, Fucked Up?

so, tl;dr: Robb Stark is a kid, goddammit, do not shit on him. he already has enough shit to deal with.

2

Gif source:  Digger

Imagine being a hostage in a bank that Captain Boomerang is robbing and while the other men he’s working with clean out the money and valuables, Boomerang is far too busy hitting on you.

——— Request for anon ———

You were freaking out to say the least, but the way this one guy was acting kept throwing you off. This was an armed robbery and here he was, flirting with you!

“Aren’t they going to need help,” you squeak, weakly gesturing towards the other men who were bagging the valuables, “with, um, robbing us?”

“Ah, my mates can handle that much,” he waves it off, before giving you a toothy grin that shows his metallic dental work, “so don’t worry about them. Now, why don’t ya’ tell me the pretty name that goes with that pretty face, huh? How about it, darlin’?”

Mute (Negan x Reader) Part 1/?

Do you think you could write something about Negan being interested in a damaged woman who happened to be mute after her tongue had been cut out? It sounds weird I know but this is an idea I had for my own story but I’m not patient or quite imaginative enough so it would make me very happy for you to adopt the idea if you are interested.Maybe something along the lines of her being a part of Alexandria and her being very bitter towards negan because ricks group is the only group that she has trusted since being attacked. I also think that the whole tongue being cut out thing should have happened early on so that the physical wounds have healed" - @kaethec

I really really liked this idea so this may turn into something longer, I’m not sure but I was definitely fascinated by the idea.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Walking the empty halls of the sanctuary you pondered at how empty they were, the echoing of your shoes uncomfortable and desolate. It made your head pound with them. A thundering and repetitive beat that drilled so far into your mind you could no longer think.
Then a dripping sound. Not like a leak in a roof, more of a slow and deliberate tap that had been left too long with leaky seals. Combined with the clicking of your shoes over the floor, the tiny mutterings of far off saviours, at one point even the sound of a bird walking on the corrugated roof above your head. It deafened you.
The aggressive man with a rough hand clamped over your arm shuffled his feet, it evoked a squeaky chalk-like sound.
You were very sound sensitive after you lost the ability to taste. Well, you lost the ability to speak too, but it was common knowledge that once you were deprived of one sense your others got stronger. This was correct in your case - resulting in improved visual perception, more finely tuned hearing and a heightened sense of smell which wasn’t the most convenient in a world where rotten corpses walked the streets.

In all honesty, you weren’t much of a talker anyway, you preferred to simply watch situations as opposed to be the center of the attention. You carried a notebook with you in spite of this, just on the off chance you would be asked an answerable question. Clearly however, the impatient man had no time to communicate with you as he hastily shoved you forwards, further into the dimly lit hallway.

His thick fingers mercilessly tore at your soft skin, evoking deep reddened gouges that would surely bruise. His body was forcing yours forwards, leaving you no where else to turn to other than where he was directing you. You saw plenty opportunity to run but you knew they would only catch you again. Yeah, you knew you could run back to Ricks group and show up at the gates but soon enough the attempt would mean nothing but revoked privileges and a slightly more hostile hostage situation and quite honestly you didn’t feel like putting your neck on the line. And so you complied.

You planned though. You would make it back, you knew you would. Ricks group was the only place you felt was suited to you. You made runs, were a productive member of the newly forged society, a valuable member too, being Daryl’s sister. You were infamous before all this happened. A explosive woman with a fiery temper. You took no shit from anyone… apart from your brothers. Brother. 

Forced into a room, the man loosened his grip and thrust you into the center. You felt a little exposed, strangely, however that was, you realised, because the room was empty apart from one man. Sitting in a leather chair, he radiated pure arrogance and cockiness. Head propped back, his feet boot clad and rested on a table. His hands crossed together and held over his belt in a carefree stance. Even his face, which was immediately attractive to you, had a aesthetic to it which you could not place.

Grinning, he leant forwards, swinging a leg down off of the table, “Wait… Your that new girl right ?”

You sigh.

“Don’t answer that” He chuckled to himself, ‘Too soon ?”

Prick.

“And well, honey, in this lighting, you look damn fucking spectacular if id do say so myself” His grin did not have the effect you thought it would. It was not like at the line up, then it was mocking, uncomfortable. Here it was somehow different, endearing. 

You faked a curtsy in response and plastered your own face in a sarcastic forced smile. 

Chuckling, he jeered, “Aren’t you a feisty little thing ?, Im gonna have a lot of fucking good times with you” 

You returned this comment with glaring daggers. As innocently as you could possibly muster, you carefully and slowly tugged your notebook out of your pocket, Batting your eyes at him to stoke his curiosity as you brought your pen to paper. In the curliest, fanciest, over the top writing, you wrote, “Fuck you” and turned to paper to show him, Recreating the smile as you show him the middle finger. 

In truth, you felt lucky he hadn’t hit you. He didn’t scare you. Nothing did after what had happened… There were a lot of sick fucks out there but he wasn’t one. He was just a man with power, you could tell the difference. 

“So what is your name Darlin ?” He asked with a deep purring voice, 

“(y/n) Dixon” You scrawled in your natural hand. 

Both his eyes and grin widened. “ Holy shitting shit. The real (y/n) Dixon ?”

Rolling your eyes, you nodded. You were so sick of your reputation from before the end of the world playing a part in your treatment, even though it was kind of obvious you were a Dixon now that you thought about it.

“SHI-i-it then we have a mighty large load of crap on our hands, don’t we?” He smirked. “ Id heard of you, y’know. Long long fucking time ago. You were, er, that young wild girl with a bounty for stealing shit, right?”

This was quickly becoming an interrogation. His reaction was more entertaining than Ricks when he found out, Rick had still wanted to arrest you deep down but you had gained his trust eventually. 

“Oh and if i do remember fucking well, which i do, You were also on trial for arson, Drunk and Disorderly Behaviour, Public indecency and Attempted Murder” He grinned, until it slowly disappeared. “ So wheres your fire, Darlin ? Who shit in your coco pops ? hmm ?”

He was partly right, you’d calmed down a lot from how you were but you felt he was underestimating you. You’d show him what you were capable of. He’d better watch his back.

Originally posted by scarletswitch

acaptainswaneternity  asked:

I would sent you everything on that list, but can you write this one: "i asked you to babysit one time and now my child keeps asking when you will spend time with them again"?? Pleeeease!

Hehe, it’s like you knew it was your prompt coming *g* Hope you like it, honey!! <3

Not A Babysitter; ~ 2, 200 words; also on FF.net

Emma Swan has 4 problems and she tries to regain some semblance of control by listing them in her head on the way home in the precise order in which they developed.

Problem #1: She moved. That on its own is neither a problem, nor unusual. It is not her apartment or the building or the landlord. It is her damn next-door neighbour. Her extremely good-looking, well-build, accent-wielding, guitar-strumming, jogging-in-a-very-fit-white-shirt-every-morning-but-Sunday neighbour. And, frankly, wanting to jump a man like that meant one thing and one thing only – she is not losing her sight or hearing.

The problem is that for the last 3 months Emma Swan has been having absolutely ridiculous, the-hell-I’m-not-14-and-he-is-not-in-a-band, stupid, stupid fantasies about one Killian Jones writing her a love song and freaking serenading her. And that just won’t do.

Problem #2: She has terrible luck. It is a standing issue in her life to be honest but it never seizes to amaze her just how bad her luck can get.

“No, no, no. You cannot do this to me!”

Emma stared at the text in absolute horror. A text. Her babysitter was letting her know she ‘just won’t be able to make it today’ with a fucking text. She should’ve stopped using that agency when they sent that one girl who came over with 5, she counted them – 5, history books under her arm and tried to make Henry pancakes for dinner. Try being the operating word.

“I was going to say ‘Good morning’ but now I think I will stick to just ‘Morning’.”

The deep, accented voice only makes her groan again and Emma turns around to see Killian Jones, a very sweaty and flushed Killian Jones with a ridiculously bright pair of headphones hanging on his neck, raise his arms in an attempt to placate her.

“You can just head to Horrible, God awful, I’m fucked Morning.”

“Oh,” his mix of amusement and concern would be quite entertaining, if Emma was in the mood to be entertained. “Any way I can attempt a dashing rescue of your morning?”

“Unless you happened to score a babysitter last night, who hasn’t left your apartment yet and is free for the day, I’d say no.”

He actually, genuinely, honest to God, blushes at that, chuckling somewhat uneasily and Emma is stuck between her now-unavoidable amusement and feeling slightly bad for making him feel that uncomfortable. But how the hell was she supposed to know? He certainly looked the type.

“You need somebody to watch your boy?” Killian asks after clearing his throat for the third time.

“Yes,” she admit, slightly on guard but then again he wouldn’t-

“I can do that.”

Or he would.

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hateprovider  asked:

So, don't you think that Show!Doran is a little bit stupid? It looks like he supports Lannisters... letting Myrcella leave Dorne is the dumbest decision ever, he'll lost valuable hostage. I know, he doesn't want to start a war or hurt little girls, but Book!Doran is intelligent enough to take revenge without starting a war. Maybe Show!Doran is plotting something too, but it looks just ridiculous.

I think sending Myrcella back to King’s Landing is just the anticlimactic result of Jaime’s pointless venture to Dorne. What bugs me much more is that Doran is willing to send his only son - his heir on the show - to King’s Landing, trusting that the Lannisters will treat him well. 

Doran is supposed to be very smart and cautious - and in my eyes Alexander Siddig is also portraying him that way. But once again (I feel like this has become some kind of mantra in the fandom) D&D focus more on the plot and where they want it to go  instead of actually spending one thought on what those actions imply for the characters involved. 

It’s the same issue as with Stannis sacrificing Shireen: People in power need their heirs to carry on their legacy. Especially on the show, where they made Trystane an only child, it is completely unrealistic for Doran to voluntarily send his son to the place where his brother and sister were killed. But apparently having even this little grasp on common sense is too much to ask of the people in charge of this show.