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thetriumphantpanda · 1 year

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The Way You Miss Me | Joel Miller (Chapter Two)

It's been a week since you and Joel threw yourselves over the cliff of the unknown together. It's been tense and you're worried that things have changed for the worst. That is, until you receive a message.

Pairing | Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings | Smut, dry humping, rough sex, protected PIV sex, hair pulling, alcohol consumption - nothing else that I can think of but let me know if I've missed anything.

Word Count | 4.5K

Authors note | Thank you for the love on chapter one - it's spurred me to write part two which I hope you enjoy as much as me! If you love it, I'd love to hear from you - send me ask, keeping reblogging and liking.

Your phone buzzed on your bedside table to signal a new text message. Setting your book down on the bed with the corner folded to keep your place, you picked up your phone and your heart skipped a beat.

J. Miller

Sarah at a sleepover tonight. Can you sneak over?

It had been a week since you had been pinned underneath him for the first time and whilst you’d looked after Sarah each weekday there was nothing in his behavior that suggested anything had happened between the two of you. When he came into the house each evening, he’d merely told you your dad was waiting outside for you and bounded up the stairs to check on Sarah. Sensing he was thinking that he’d made an almighty mistake in stripping you naked and sitting you on his face until you saw stars you always made sure that you were gone by the time he came back down the stairs. You didn’t even wait for him to come back down to give you your money.

To say the message was a surprise was the understatement of the century. Butterflies bloomed in your lower tummy at the thought that he wanted to see you. How were you going to play this? It was a Saturday afternoon, still unbearably hot, but it gave you options. You could tell your dad you had a date in the city perhaps? No. That wouldn’t allow you to stay out all hours of the evening, he’d expect you back at 10pm sharp. If you were going to see Joel you didn’t want to have to rush things this time.

You went through a range of options before settling on your final plan. You padded down the stairs to find your father sitting in his chair reading the paper.

“Hey dad,” You called from the bottom step, “Emma just text to ask if I wanted to go out tonight, would that be okay?”

He looked up from the paper and smiled, “Of course, will you be staying with her tonight?”

“I think so,” You replied, “It’s easier considering her apartment is right in town, I’ll be back tomorrow morning.”

“Alright sweetheart,” He nodded, moving his attention back to the newspaper, “Just make sure you drink water with your alcohol, it’s hot and you’ll make yourself sick otherwise.”

“I will, you know Emma is the sensible friend.”

Your father chuckled, “I have to head into town in a little while to sort some paneling for next week, do you want me to drop you down?”

You thought for a moment. It would add to the story for sure, but the town center was in the opposite direction to Joel’s house, “No that’s okay, you head off whenever, it��ll take me a while to get ready.”

He folded the paper and threw it onto the coffee table in front, “Alright, I’ll head off now – if I’m not back before you leave then have a good night but be safe and text me to let me know you’re okay.” “I will dad.” You reply, walking over to give him a hug before he picked up his truck keys and left.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you had been holding in before bounding straight back up the stairs. Deciding to leave replying to Joel for a little while longer, you scrolled through your phone and dialled Emma’s number.

“What’s cookin’, beautiful lady?” Her chipper southern drawl answered.

Emma had been your best friend since high school. You’d met on day one and bonded over a love of British history and music. Despite being the same age, she was almost like the mother you’d never had. Your mum had passed away when you’d just turned 4, not old enough to understand the consequences of being left with just your dad, but old enough to realise something was missing. Emma was an old soul, she liked to drink tea and be in bed by 11pm, even on a weekend. She instinctively put her arm in front of you to stop you crossing the road when she deemed it unsafe. She’d sat next to your dad at your college graduation, crying tears of pride just as your mother would have.

“I have something to admit to you.” Was your response as you flicked the phone to speaker and set it on the bedside table.

“Oh hell yeah, this is fun,” Came Emma’s response, “Let me guess, you’re a hardcore crystal meth user?”

A laugh ripped from your throat, “Emma I wouldn’t even know where to start buying it, so no.”

“Damn, you’re hanging around with the wrong people,” You could hear her shuffling about at the other end of the phone, “Put me out of my misery then, what have you done?”

You took a deep breath, “You know Joel Miller?” You asked, “The guy that pays me to babysit his daughter?” “Honey, of course I do,” Emma snorted, “You never shut up about him and his big arms and his dark hair and his beautiful eyes.”

“I slept with him.” You blurted out.

There was silence on the end of the phone. This was going to go one of two ways. She was going to kill your ass for being so reckless and fucking your dad’s best friend, or she was about to nominate you for a Nobel Prize.

“Fucking get it girl,” A sigh of relief came at her response, you could hear her throwing ice into a cup at the other end of the phone, “Was his dick as good looking like the rest of him?”

“Jesus Em,” You chuckle, “Yes, okay, everything looked great and was in proportion.”

“I applaud you, ethics aside, this is going to be great for you, a summer of being ridden by your neighborhood’s most eligible bachelor.”

“I appreciate it Em but I have a favour to ask?”

“He’s called you over and you’ve used me as the excuse to your dad?” God damn she was good.

“I appreciate you very much Emma, just cover my ass if he calls you.”

“Will do!” She called back, “Now go and get ready and leave me to my margarita in peace.”

You said goodbye and ended the call, immediately noticing a second text message notification.

J. Miller

You’re not ignoring me are you baby?

Never. Just cooking up a story for my dad. You have me all night. I’ll be with you at 6.

You hopped straight in the shower to divulge your body of the thin sheen of sweat that had been gathering on your skin throughout the day before fighting through your closet for something to wear. You had no idea why it mattered to you what you wore, Joel had seen you at your worst, turning up to his door in sweatpants and oversized jumpers more times that you’d care to admit, but things were different now. You didn’t want him to view you as the young babysitter, you want to be a woman for him.

Settling on a light-yellow sundress pulled over the cream lace underwear, you threw a change of clothes in your rucksack for the morning and slipped on your sandals before practically running out of the door.

***

Joel had been pacing around his kitchen for ten minutes when a knock at his door roused him from his thoughts. He had no idea what he was doing. Once you’d left him to his thoughts after last time he had spiraled. If your dad ever found out what he was doing with you he’d be dead, no questions asked. He was 36 after all and should have known know better than to give in to his temptations.

However, every single night he’d led in bed and replayed the images of you in his head. You were spread out underneath him, trying so hard to keep quiet as he pushed inside of you. When he allowed his hand to take hold of his cock when he was alone in his bed at night he thought about how tight you’d been around him and how you’d fluttered around his length as you’d cum for him. He had it bad. So bad that as soon as Sarah had asked if she could sleepover at her friends place he had agreed. No arguments. She’d raised an eyebrow at him showing him that she knew something was going on – she certainly didn’t know what, but she’d always needed to plead her case to do anything outside of the home.

He yanked open the front door and you were a picture in sunshine yellow. The dress you wore barely made it mid-thigh and although he couldn’t see what you had underneath, the bra was certainly doing wonders for your chest as it was heaving in front of him as you caught your breath.

“Come in.” Was all he could manage to say as he moved to the side of the door to let you pass.

He watched intently as you dropped your backpack in its usual place next to the kitchen island.

“You look lovely.” He offered as he watched you walk to the back door, looking out at the garden.

“Thank you.” Was all you said, not even bothering to look at him.

“Can I get you a drink?” He asked, “I don’t have much food in but if you want we can order in?”

You finally turned to look at him, framed by the late afternoon sun pouring in through the window. He couldn’t help but think that you looked positively ethereal.

“A drink sounds good,” Your reply was blunt, that’s what he deserved for basically ignoring you he supposed, “I’m going to sit outside.”

Joel went to reply but before he could you were gone, settling yourself not in the chair you’d chosen before, but on one edge of the bench. That was something at least. He quickly made you up a tequila pineapple, just like before grabbing himself a cold beer. Too early for whiskey.

“You mind if I sit?” He asked after he’d handed your drink over, motioning to the other end of the bench.

“It’s your house Joel, you can sit wherever you’d like.”

You hadn’t meant to be so cold but as you’d walked to his place you couldn’t help feeling like a fool. You’d dropped everything for a grown man who had all but ignored you all week. No, if he wanted to see you he was going to have to explain himself. You’d expected to have to coax it out of him but thankfully the cold shoulder wasn’t something Joel was enjoying.

“I’m sorry darlin’ for keeping my distance,” He offered, placing a hand softly on your thigh to test the waters, “I just couldn’t trust myself to make smart decisions after last time.”

You could feel your heart soften a little at his words, “So you don’t regret it?”

“Not a single second,” He replied almost immediately, “I haven’t stopped thinking about you – when I’m alone at night it’s always you my mind comes back to.”

“You couldn’t even touch me though?” You challenged, “A hug? Or a brush of the fingers?”

“Darlin’ trust me I wanted to, every time I look at you it’s like I want to consume you, but I know if I did your dad would get real suspicious about what was takin’ so long whilst I had your thighs wrapped around my head again.”

Your breath hitched in your throat for a moment at his words as you were processing that fact that Joel Miller was struggling with his need for you as much as you were for him. You took a sip of your drink as you thought over your next words.

“And tonight?” You began, “Am I just some kind of booty call whenever Sarah leaves?” “Baby…” Joel trailed off, taking a long glug of his own drink, “I need you to know that’s not just what I want but this,” He said motioning between the two of you, “Whatever this is, it’s complicated.”

“I need you to know that this won’t be just sex to me Joel,” You ran a hand over your face in frustration, “I’ve never been good at that, separating sex from feelings, so whatever this might be, I want to do it right.”

He took his hand from your thigh and took hold of your hand to give it a reassuring squeeze, “I don’t want you to be just sex to me either darlin’ but we’ve got to keep this a secret whilst we figure out what the hell we’re gonna do about telling everyone.”

You nodded in understanding, “I’m not going to shout it from the rooftops, and I don’t want to rush this, so it stays between us,” You reassured him, “But I swear if you pull whatever bullshit that was from this week again, I’m out.”

“I promise to try harder darlin’, I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.”

You smiled at that. How could a 36 year old man make you feel like a teenager again. It was like he was trying to traverse his first ever relationship in high school. You gave him a reassuring squeeze to his bicep to let him know you got the message.

“So, I’m starving, how about pizza?”

***

Several hours later, with more pizza than you should have consumed in your stomach, you’d laid yourself on Joel’s couch whilst he prepared another drink for you. You’d sat in this space more times than you’d cared to think about, never did you imagine that all those evenings sat with Sarah would conclude with you being sat in her dad’s lap making out like two horny teenagers.

A few moments later Joel was back with two drinks and you’d resumed your earlier position, you stretched out long with couch with your legs in Joel’s lap whilst he ran his hands over as much skin as he could reach.

“Joel?”

“Hmmm?” He replied, shifting his head to look at you.

“Kiss me.”

He wasted no time in following the instruction you’d given him, instead of settling himself between your thighs like he had done earlier in the night, he effortlessly pulled you onto his lap, settling your hips above his own before cupping your face in his hands and pressing a kiss to your lips.

Once the both of you had fallen into a rhythm of kissing each other, taking it in turns to switch from featherlight kisses to the lips to, nibbles of bottom lips and chaste kisses to each other’s neck’s, you felt Joel’s hands move from your face to the thin straps of your sundress. Without even realizing it, he’d softly slipped the straps from your shoulders, causing the material to fall away from the sheer lace bra you'd thrown on when getting ready.

"Darlin', this all for me?" Joel's husky voice spoke as his hands came up to cup your tits.

"Unless anyone else is here then yes, it's all for you Joel."

He looked up at your face and his eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas morning. The feeling of his hands cupping you through the sheer material had your nipples hard in seconds and you were silently begging him to take the material from your body and put his mouth on you.

Thankfully he did just that, pulling the straps down just like he had with your dress before pulling the cups down, exposing your tits to the air of the room and to his almost immediate assault. He bent his head slightly and captured one nipple in his mouth, softly rolling his tongue over the exposed bud, whilst his fingers worked on the other, rolling it between thumb and finger.

How on earth a man could make your pussy flood with warmth from the tiniest of ministrations against your tits was beyond you at this point, but your hands ran to clasp together at the nape of his neck, pulling yourself flush against the rest of his body as a small moan fell from your lips.

Joel pulled his mouth from his place at your chest, looking up at you with your head tossed back, “I want you to be as loud as you want tonight baby, you got me?” He asked you before taking your other nipple in his mouth to give it the attention he’d been paying to the other just moments before.

Taking advantage of your position, you dipped your hips a little lower until you felt your clothed core settle on Joel’s growing bulge at the front of his jeans. You felt him tense slightly at the friction and felt a little smirk appear on your lips. He didn’t let up with his mouth, swapping every few minutes to the other nipple, which spurred you on. Using your hands around his neck as an anchor, you started grinding your hips against his. Even through layers of material the friction it created was delicious. A low guttural moan left your lips as Joel pulled his mouth from you, opting instead to place his wide hands on the curve of your ass to lead the movement of your hips against him.

You bent down and captured his lips in yours, moving your hands to rest on his broad shoulders as he continued to slowly move your hips so your pussy was dragging against the harsh denim underneath you, the lace of your panties doing nothing to protect you.

“You like that, huh?” He asked, “You think you can make yourself cum like this? Grinding that pretty pussy over my jeans?”

There was something about the filth from Joel’s mouth that lit a fire within you which made your grind into him even harder. You could feel the beginnings of the tightening in your abdomen – how, when men who touched you with their hands and mouths but couldn’t get you aacross the cliff edge, could Joel do this with just a flick of his hips through his clothes.

“Hmmm… Joel.. I’m.. Oh god, I think…” “That’s it baby, grind a little harder.” He encouraged with his lips right at your ear, “Come on, I know you can do it.”

Within seconds you were mewling as you were grinding yourself through your first orgasm, hands squeezing Joel’s shoulders so hard you were sure your fingers would leave little bruises in the morning.

“Such a good girl for me,” He breathed as he stilled your hips, “Look at you.”

You looked down and could see a patch of denim at his crotch that was a deeper blue than the rest, your wetness was seeping through your panties. Your chest was heaving as you tried to catch your breath and you could tell if you attempted to stand your legs would fail you.

“Don’t stop now,” Joel purred into your ear, wrapping a strong arm around your waist as he stood up with your legs wrapped around his waist, “That was just number one.”

***

Orgasm number two had come shortly after by Joel’s mouth. He had you pinned to his bed, a wide hand splayed across your tummy as your writhed beneath him whilst his tongue flicked mercilessly across your clit.

Number three had been drawn screaming from your throat as you leaned back against his naked chest with his erection pressing into the small of your back. Two of your own fingers planted deep within your soaking pussy as his fingers rubbed circles across your clit.

Four and five came quickly one after the other, the first as you sat on his face like you had done the first time, pressing yourself so hard onto his tongue you were sure you were going to suffocate him. The second caught the both of you by surprise as Joel lightly teased your clit with his thumb as you leant back to catch your breath. You were so sensitive it took less than a minute for him to pull his name from your lips as you collapsed into a heap next to him.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Was all you could breathe out, which earned a chuckle from your side.

“Afraid not darlin’, it’s just me.”

A half-hearted swat to his chest was earned for that – before you could move your hand from his skin, it was taken into his own and he was pressing soft kisses to the palm of your hand as he shifted about next to you.

“Baby you’ve gotta let me fuck you,” He growled into your ear, moving your hand down to his boxers that neither of you had taken the time to remove just year, “See how hard you’ve made me? Cumming for me like a good girl.”

You looked up at him through your eyelashes as he shifted his weight to look at you, “I’m not stopping you.” You tried as seductively as possible to open your legs for him.

“Not like this,” He mumbled, “Turn over.”

He pushed lightly at your hip to turn you over onto your front before hauling himself up behind you, “Lift your hips a little bit.” You did as you were told and watched as he placed a pillow under your hips to lift you up a little.

You craned your neck to look at him behind you as he was stripping himself of the final barrier between the two of you. It was still as impressive as you’d remembered from before, thick and hard and just waiting to take you right to the edge again. As Joel was putting a condom on you opened your legs as wide as you could, displaying yourself for him before you gave him a little wiggle.

“Minx.” Was all he said before he gave a swat to your ass, causing a gasp and a chuckle from you.

You held your breath as Joel moved closer, “You ready baby?” all you could do was nod in answer as you felt the head of his cock at your pussy.

He was slow as he pushed himself inside you, just as he had been the first time, giving you ample time to catch your breath and enjoy the delightful feeling of being stretched open like you never had been before. You heard a throaty growl leave his lips as he bottomed out inside of you, stopping to get himself used to the feeling of your pussy clenching around him again.

“Fuckin’ Christ baby, you feel incredible.”

“Joel, please fucking move.” You had no time for his compliments right now, he’d pulled five orgasms from you and all you needed right now was to feel his cock moving inside of you.

“Alright m’lady, whatever you want.” He pulled almost all the way out of you before thrusting back into you hard and you were lost. You could feel his heavy hands gripping your hips as he pulled you back to meet his thrusts which somehow had him reaching even deeper inside you. The angle that the pillow had placed your hips at had Joel going as deep as humanely possible into you, ripping a moan from your lips every time he thrust into you.

“Holy fuck Joel, that’s so fucking good.” “Hmmm I know baby, you sound so fucking good when you moan for me.”

He set a fast pace for you both but you knew he was holding something back, the feeling of his cock inside you was dizzying but you needed more.

“Joel,” You cried out as you shifted your hips, “Joel I need more.” “More?” He asked, coming to a complete stop inside you, “What more could you possibly need from me right now?”

“Harder,” You begged, “Or faster, God I don’t know Joel, I just need more.”

You could hear him chuckle behind you – you didn’t need to look back to know that he’d be beaming with pride right now at being the cause of your frustration even whilst he was balls deep inside you.

You felt a rough hand make its way up your spine before it tangled in the loose hair falling around your back. He pulled hard causing your position to shift, your back now arched into a position you didn’t think was even physically possible. When he began moving again you could see stars. He was perfectly hitting a spot within you that made your vision blurry. It was rough and it was loud but God wasn’t it perfect.

“Is this what you needed baby?” He asked, his voice giving away that he too was close to the edge, “Like it when I get a bit rough with you?”

“Oh god…” You choked out, “I fucking love it Joel, don’t stop.”

Not knowing it was even possible, you felt him shift gear and he was fucking into you harder and faster than ever before, you were so close to your sixth orgasm you could almost taste it and you knew Joel could tell.

“You gonna give me one more Darlin’?” He growled, not letting up the pace, “Come on, I can feel you getting tight around me, let go.”

The mix of his dangerous Southern drawl, the angle of his hips and the way he was sliding in and out of you with such ease were enough to tip you over the edge. Joel let go of your hair and, with a hand placed on the back of your neck instead he pushed you into the mattress as he pounded into your pussy from behind, seeking his own high.

It took less than a minute for him to seat himself deep inside you as he came, growling your name into your ear, peppering your skin with kisses. You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that, but once he slipped from inside you and you were free to turn yourself onto your back you had never felt so empty.

You watched as Joel disposed of the condom in the bin next to the bed before leaving his room and coming back moments later with a warm washcloth that he handed to you. You took it gratefully and cleaned yourself up as best you could. You knew you needed to get up and use the bathroom but right now, as Joel was peeling back the sheets and motioning for you to get under the covers with him, the cloth would have to do.

Despite both of you feeling like you were on fire, you wrapped yourself up in Joel’s strong embrace. You rested your head on his chest and used your hands to trace tiny patterns across the skin of his shoulder.

“I can’t remember the last time a girl stayed long enough to cuddle with me.” He mused, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead.

“I can’t remember the last time a man made me cum six times in one night.” Was your response.

The rise and fall of his chest told you he was silently chuckling to himself, “Six?” He asked, “You think you’re getting away with just six tonight?”

You shifted enough to look into his eyes thinking you might find that he was joking but the look on his face suggested otherwise.

“I’m not having you here all night and not making the most of it.” He whispered into your ear, causing goosebumps to appear on your skin, despite the temperature in the room.

“Give me a chance to catch my breath Miller and you’re on.”

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#Joel Miller #Pedro Pascal #the last of us #the last of us hbo #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller pedro pascal #TWYMM

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archiesweirdparody · 5 months

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Reblogs > likes, id in alt text and under the "Read more" after the caption

Ive never posted my art here so. i don't really know how to go about this but! Yeah!

[ID: a comic with 2 distinct frames, but below the frames are a speech bubble and a separate drawing. the borders between frames resembles a dark sky with snow falling. the first panel shows emma perkins looking out a window to the sky. she's wearing a green striped shirt and is underneath a red plaid blanket. she is on the phone. next to her is text that reads, "you called me last night on the telephone". the next panel shows paul matthews looking at his phone which his shoulder is propping up next to his ear, like he's on a phone call. he's smiling and blushing. he's stirring a pot. he's wearing a grey hoodie and black shirt. the text next to him reads, "and i was glad to hear form you, cause i was all alone". the speech bubble coming from emma says "it's snowing, it's snowing- god, i hate this weather!". next to that is emma and paul wearing winter clothes, seemingly outside, and smiling at eachother. the text between them says, "now i walk through blizzards just to get us back together". End ID]

#I've never really used tags on here properly so bear with me #emma perkins #paul matthews #hatchetfield #paulkins #starkid #Rj's art

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fullscoreshenanigans · 6 months

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Debating whether to make the criminally underexplored platonic dynamics polls into a tournament (with the top two or three from the Grace Field kids, Goldy Pond crew, Lambda/Paradise Hideout gang, and free-for-all rounds advancing to a final round).

I'm also taking suggestions for any of these, either in the reblogs or replies of this post, or as asks or in a DM. The requirement is a panel of the two characters interacting* in the manga or a piece of official Demizu art must be included in the suggestion, or in lieu of the picture itself, the chapter citation of where the panel is in the manga.

Notes: • One suggestion per person per poll on a first come, first serve basis. 11 options per poll, with #12 being "other." • Adam, Emma, Lucas, and Yuugo are eligible characters for the GP poll. • Lucas & Oliver, Yuugo & Emma, Yuugo & Ray, and Gillian & Nigel are ineligible dynamics for any of the polls. • Free-for-all is technically everything not covered in the three prior polls (e.g., Nigel & Yvette, Gilda & Violet, Pepe & Ray, etc. If there's enough interest in a demon-exclusive poll, it can be a separate fifth poll. Otherwise, stuff like Leuvis & Sonju goes here.) • *"Interaction" preferably being them talking or engaging in something together intentionally, but if you want to stretch it, it can be two characters just conveniently standing next to each other (because the potential is there Shirai throw us a bone.)

#think that's everything #ineligible dynamics are ofc not bad at all #but feels like comparatively speaking fandom has them more than covered lol so arbitrary elimination to satisfy my curiosity #for GP poll I already have Adam & Paula and/or Adam & Violet #think the only time we ever see James & Smee interacting is the Ch173 side scene </3 #The Promised Neverland #TPN #TPN Polls #FSS Polls #FSS Shenanigans #Goldy Pond Crew #Lambda Gang

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tenpointsav · 1 year

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night shift pt. 1

After a few weeks in Hawkins, on a late night in April, Emma has an unexpected visitor on her back porch.

cw: slight angst, season 4 spoilers, descriptions of healing injuries, blood, this will be a short series and there will be smut in eventual parts but we have some healing to do first.

remember to like, reblog, and gimme a little comment or two. <3

Emma hasn’t seen much of Hawkins since she moved in.

She made it about two hundred miles before her old truck went out on the edge of the small town. The plan had been to head to Indianapolis for a new start, something different from the nowhere town that she grew up in. When the mechanic sent her the bill for the repairs, Emma took a job in town and now she’s stuck.

Government vehicles sit on every corner and barricades block off many of the neighborhoods and businesses. There are still people, families who made the decision to stay and young people who have never known anywhere other than this place. A few of the kids from the local high school, which now sits buried under rubble, come by the diner she works at often. They are sweet, even if they often speak in hushed tones and their eyes shift from person to person, slightly paranoid but abundantly cautious. The one with the curls is her favorite, but there’s something about his smile that doesn’t quite meet his eyes. She always gives him something sweet on the house.

Emma drags a final box to the center of the table, pulling out books for the small shelf by her bed. Double shifts didn't allow for a lot of time to get everything unpacked at once, so it had been a slow process. Her dog Duckie's tail thwacks the side of her leg as she makes two piles, one of books to keep and another to give away. It's the kind of thing she should have done before she packed up her old place, but it had been rushed.

Suddenly, her dog lets out a low growl that vibrates Emma's skin. She follows the dog's line of sight to the back door. It’s dark out and she doesn’t know anyone in town that would be coming to visit her here.

"What is it, baby?' Emma asks softly, scratching the coarse hair behind Duckie's ear. A bark echoes through the trailer and he steps towards the door. The hair stands up on her neck as she tries to make out anything in the night outside her windows.

The thought of calling the police flashes through her mind, but the cops haven't been much use lately, based on chatter she’s overheard at the grocery store. Especially since a Hawkins High cheerleader died in the trailer near hers. It was two days after she got the keys and cops were camped in her yard for a week before the earthquake. Her new home was one of the few that survived at Forest Hills. Every once in a while, a tremor runs through the ground, just strong enough to make the lights flicker and the screen door rattle. During the day, the feeling isn’t so bad, but at night is the only time Emma slightly regrets the decision to stay here.

"We've seen enough horror movies to know this is a terrible idea," she says, both to herself and to the dog. She follows Duckie tentatively, heart hammering in her throat.

They reach the back of the trailer and Emma grabs a bat that rests by the back door. The sound of shuffling boxes and bottles makes her jump as her trash can is knocked over. Duckie barks, following it with a high pitched whine. Emma takes a deep breath as she grips the bat tighter.

"Fuck, okay…" she grumbles, taking a deep breath.

With a quick motion, Emma grips the handle, twists and pushes the door open. The sound of crickets and the loud smack of the door on the outside paneling is the only thing that greets her. The cement steps leaving her trailer are illuminated with yellow light and the fluttering of moths, but beyond that is pitch darkness. Most streetlights haven't been working.

She sticks the bat out of the doorway, swinging it into the night haphazardly. Silently hoping that none of her neighbors happen to be watching this display, Emma steps outside. Spring hangs in the air as April crawls into May. A warm breeze ruffles her hair and she looks around slowly. Her eyes begin to adjust to the dark, the outlines of cars and trees barely visible. Stepping down two more times to reach the small yard, Emma turns to see Duckie. The large dog is still standing in the doorway, tail tucked between his legs as he whines.

"Some help you are," she grumbles, raising the bat over her shoulder before walking towards the side of the trailer. There's a huddled shape and it groans before moving towards her sluggishly. Emma gasps, swinging the bat high above her head.

"Wait, please," a male voice pleads from the dark. It’s breathless and raspy, seeming hoarse from lack of use. Walking forward, Emma can barely make out the sole of a black boot and the slight glow of white skin.

"Help…I need help."

She hears shuffling as he tries to stand, a hand gripping the rusted siding of the trailer. He steps closer to the light with a limp, his hand clutching his side. He stumbles and Emma feels her heart stutter. She rushes the final few feet to keep him from falling and throws her arms around his narrow waist. With a grunt, Emma tries to take on the full weight of his body. He’s lean but tall, all broad shoulders and long legs.

“Christ, what happened to you?” she whispers, her eyes flickering to the stains his clothes are leaving on her shirt. "We have to call the police.”

He stops in his tracks and grabs her arm, fear painted across his face. Scratches and bruises marr his pale complexion and his eyes are black in the light filtering across the small area.

"No," he exclaims, the rings on his fingers digging into her skin and she bites back a wince. "Don't. They can't know I'm here."

Emma pauses in alarm, staring up at him. Those deep, dark eyes pull her in and for just a minute she feels a tingling in her chest. He notices her fearful expression and lets go of her arm, a hint of sorrow crossing his features.

"Okay, I won't. No cops," she replies before continuing to help him up the cement steps to the door. "But if you try anything, I'll beat your ass myself."

A huff that could be mistaken for a laugh can be heard from above her head, his breath fanning against her temple. Another tingle shoots through her, this time raising goosebumps. The dog is losing its mind, an angry growl punctuating each bark as Emma nudges him gently out of way with her hip.

Stumbling inside, Emma sits the man at her small kitchen table. He sags down against the back, swaying to the side. Her hands come out to grab his jacket which leaves more black residue on her skin.

"Whoa," she exclaims, gripping his upper arms until he's propped on the table. "I'm gonna go grab some first aid stuff and I'll be right back. Just don't...die or anything. Okay?"

He gives her the smallest nods as he takes in a deep breath, eyes fluttering closed in the warm light of the living room. His thick lashes stand out against pale skin. Even covered in grime and what can only be blood, Emma can’t help but think he's handsome.

Yeah, Em, the guy you found in the trash is hot.

Emma spins around and flies down the hall to dig through her miniature bathroom. She manages to find a few bandages, some gauze, and a bottle of rubbing alcohol. Balancing everything in one arm, Emma snatches a clean towel from the shelf by her shower and hurries back to the kitchen. Her guest is thankfully still upright, head resting on the kitchen wall behind the chair. She’s glad she thought to bring something useful with her from home besides old romance novels and her wine glasses.

"Alright," Emma says, attempting to announce her presence, "I can't promise this isn't gonna suck."

His eyes flicker up to hers briefly as she drops everything onto the table. He looks so tired, dark circles under his nearly black eyes. She gets a good look at his body for the first time, blood dried to his shirt and torn fabric plastered to his skin.

“Jesus Christ," she whispers, turning to quickly wash her hands. There’s a tar-like substance on him and it’s stuck under her nails. Emma scrubs and scrubs until it’s somewhat gone before giving up. She figures she is going to get a lot messier pretty soon.

Her dog continues to pace the kitchen as he growls, a low steady hum. His nails click on the floor but he never attempts to approach their visitor. She reaches over and pats his soft fur as he emits another whine.

"Duckie, chill out,” Emma grumbles, walking back to the table. She starts fighting with the plastic of the alcohol bottle as the man shifts in his seat.

"Like from that movie?"

Emma's head flies up as she jumps, the sound of his voice startling her. It’s clearer than before, low and husky in a way that makes her face warm. The corner of his mouth twitches slightly. She prays he can’t tell her heart is racing a mile a minute.

"W-what?" she stammers, eyebrows drawing together in confusion.

He nods to the dog, sitting forward to try and pull his worn leather jacket off but failing, lacking the strength to even lean up more than an inch or so. Emma grasps the torn fabric and helps ease it off his shoulders. The t-shirt underneath is in shreds and she bites back a gasp at the sight of the jagged wounds across his ribs. Maroon colored streaks run along his forearms, seemingly in pattern with his veins. The color is completely gone from his face now with the effort, making his eyes seem even more piercing. Emma feels a shiver down her spine as she turns and busies herself with preparing the gauze to try and get him back into good shape.

"Your dog's name,” he murmurs. “Like the dude in that movie."

Emma huffs out a laugh, picking at plastic to avoid looking him in the eyes.

"You don't strike me as a Pretty in Pink kinda guy..."

"Well, we've all got our secrets, sweetheart," he rasps, his eyes fluttering closed as he leans back on the wall.

Emma wants to melt into the floor, becoming very interested in the bandages before mustering the courage to look at him and say the first thing that comes to her mind.

"So is your name one of your secrets or would you like to share?"

His smile is small as he looks at her again, barely moving his cheeks but enough to show off a dimple there.

"Eddie."

There’s an itch in the back of her mind as his name passes his lips, like she has heard it before somewhere.

"Emma."

A heartbeat goes by, the only sound is their breathing and the hum of the nearby fridge. Eddie's eyebrows furrow as he looks down at the table, seeming to notice everything she's pulled out for the first time.

“Why do you have all this doctor stuff?”

Eddie’s question makes Emma laugh softly and it earns her another small twitch at the corner of his mouth.

“Well, this doctor stuff is pretty normal for a first aid kit. But I was going to school to be a nurse. Just kinda never got out of the habit of being well stocked, I guess.”

Eddie hums in understanding, his eyes fluttering closed again. She reaches back, grabbing a washcloth from a nearby drawer. Eddie's body is slouched in the chair, clothes tattered, his skin bloody and bruised. She can't help but wonder what he looked like before whatever happened to him.

After about half a minute of studying both his wounds and her meager collection of medical supplies, she throws the cloth on the table. Emma puts her hands in her lap with a heavy sigh.

"I think it might be easier if you took a shower," she murmurs, scrunching her nose as she looks up at Eddie through her lashes. He sighs, a full bodied movement, before giving her a slight nod.

After several minutes and a few deep groans from her partly willing patient, Emma manages to get Eddie up from the chair and down her small hallway. The warmth is missing from his body as it shuffles next to her and it sets off alarm bells, but Emma pushes it down. If she thinks too much about how weird this all is, she might break down and call the cops. Something is telling her not to do that just yet.

The small bathroom is just a toilet, a standing shower, and a small sink with a mirror. It’s shoved so close together you could do your makeup in the mirror while you took a shower. The already lacking amount of space is cut down drastically as they enter together. Eddie detaches himself from her side and limps forward a step. The rings on his hand shine in the dim light as he holds himself up on the wall. She turns to leave, pulling the door closed behind her.

“Wait.”

Emma stops, looking down at Eddie’s outstretched hand. His fingertips are barely skimming her arm. He glances at her nervously, his hand falling back to his side with a soft slap.

“I think…I might need help. I don’t know-”

There's a weariness in his voice, so soft it makes Emma's heart hurt. She hesitates, looking down at the worn tile floor. For all she knows he could have done something terrible to end up this way. There's something in his eyes though, deep within the swirls of brown and gold, that tells her to trust him.

She nods, motioning with her hand for Eddie to sit on the closed toilet lid. When he moves, she scoots by and reaches up to turn the shower on. Part of her swears she feels his breath on the bare strip of skin that shows when she reaches up and it raises another set of goosebumps, another shiver down her spine. The water sputters to life and Eddie stands up wearily.

"Could you…" he asks, gesturing to his shirt with one slightly shaking hand.

Emma grasps the torn hem of the once white t-shirt and he jumps slightly when her fingers brush his skin. Her eyes flicker up to his and he nods, giving her permission to continue pulling it up over his stomach. The pale skin there is partially torn and still oozing blood and her hands start to shake slightly as she eases it over his chest and head. Lean muscle tinged in that same crimson and black that covers his clothes is exposed to the air and he shivers. Her hands can’t help but ghost over the healing cuts and bruises, deep jagged marks across his abdomen and chest.

"What happened?" she asks softly, the question tinged with worry and a little fear.

Eddie says nothing, instead focusing on a spot on the floor between them. A few heartbeats of silence give Emma her answer. Something horrible, something most people don't come back from.

"Okay," she says into the silence before dropping her hands, swirls of steam now spreading around them. "We don't have to talk about it."

“Thank you,” he murmurs, his voice breaking slightly and Emma’s heart feels the fissure, swallowing a lump in her throat.

“Um, I’ll just turn around and let you, you know-” she whispers, gesturing to his pants and shoes.

The clinking sound of the metal chains of his torn jeans is the only sign that Eddie has moved, a soft rustling filling the air as he nudges his pants off his feet. She peers over her shoulder as the shower curtain moves and realizes that Eddie still has his boxers on. Grateful for that small mercy for both his sake and hers, despite the pounding in her chest, she steps over and stands on the plush bath mat.

Eddie lets out a groan as the water falls on him, drenching his tangled curls and battered body. He hisses in pain slightly when it gets to be too much on his wounds and Emma isn’t sure where to even begin to help him. This is all so ridiculous. Less than an hour ago she was listening to Bowie and getting ready to drink wine until she passed out in front of the television. Now she’s helping some guy who’s been through hell and back, washing blood out from underneath his fingernails.

He does most of the work, the sweet smell of her body wash filling the small room. She helps rinse shampoo out of his thick, dark curls, standing on her tiptoes to run her nails against his scalp. Eddie lets out a groan when she hits a particularly sensitive spot and Emma jumps back a little, a deep blush turning her face as red as the bathwater at Eddie’s feet. “Sorry,” he murmurs. “That felt really nice.”

It takes a while to wash away the evidence of Eddie’s misfortune, the water turning cold before it’s even close to actually running clear. When he starts to shiver, Emma turns off the tap and passes him a towel, leaving the room to grab him some extra pajama pants and a shirt to sleep in. Once he changes, she leans on the doorframe, watching him squeeze the excess water from his hair.

“So,” she starts hesitantly. “How long have you…been like this?”

Eddie pauses, looking at himself in the mirror. Now that he’s clean, Emma can see the pallor of his cheeks and the scars that snake underneath his shirt. “I’m not sure. When…I don’t even know what day it is,” he huffs out with a grimace.

“It’s almost May.”

He nods and Emma sees his jaw clench before he swallows, hanging the towel up behind him.

“Long enough, I guess.”

Water still steadily drips down his back and Emma steps forward to grab a hair tie off her sink. She holds it up to him and raises an eyebrow.

“Want some more help?” she asks softly and Eddie nods, turning his back to her.

Emma grabs handfuls of his damp curls, heavy in her hands as she does her best to bundle them up. A few pieces fall to the front so he turns back around. Her heart starts to hammer again and she focuses intently on getting Eddie’s hair into some sort of order. She notices his eyes flicker down to her lips and to her throat, his breath coming a little shorter than before she got started. Emma takes a step closer, arms stretched up above them as she wraps the rubber band around his hair. His hair is now in a messy bun, hanging from the back of his head while loose curls frame his face. Her fingers itch to move some of the pieces behind his ears but she chooses to ball them at her sides instead.

“God, you smell good,” Eddie whispers fervently, licking his lips as his eyelashes flutter.

Her breath falters at the drop of his voice, something pulling her towards him. Her thighs brush his and she tilts her head up to meet his gaze. Suddenly, the small bathroom light flickers and Emma steps back to take a deep breath. Eddie’s eyes close and he does the same.

“I think you’re tired, Eddie,” she says softly, cutting through the thick air. “I’ll go grab some blankets for you. The couch pulls out into a bed so you can sleep there if you want.”

“Thank you,” Eddie blurts out as she turns away. “For all of this. I know it’s really weird and you didn’t have to, so…thank you.”

There’s a loud banging at her door and she jumps, unable to reply to his genuine comment. Eddie’s eyes go wide and Emma places her hand on his chest.

“I’ve got it. Just stay in here, okay?”

He nods and rubs a hand across his face, a slight tremble to his fingers as he turns around in a little circle. Emma hurries down the hall for what seems like the hundredth time tonight, trying to calm her expression and her breathing. If someone ever asked her to cover up a crime, she’s now sure she’d never be able to handle the pressure. Whipping open the door, Emma’s wide eyes take in an unexpected sight. Instead of uniformed officers like she imagined, there’s a guy about her age with thick brown hair, dressed in jeans and a red polo shirt. He stands on the bottom step and gives her a wave with two fingers.

“Hi,” he says. “I’m Steve. Harrington. I know it’s late but-”

Steve turns to gesture behind him, revealing two more kids. One is a smaller teenage girl with spiky brown hair, almost shaven, and a face she actually recognizes.

“Dustin?” She asks incredulously, staring down at the kid from the diner.

“Hey, Emma,” Dustin says bashfully, looking a lot more animated than she has ever seen.

“What are you doing here?”

“Well,” Steve interjects, holding up his hand and turning back towards her, his light brown eyes attempting to calm her nerves. “I think…you might know a friend of ours.”

He looks behind him once more at the girl, who nods once with a serious expression. Steve continues, saying the only thing she was afraid of and Emma has to remind herself not to panic.

“His name is Eddie.”

#eddie munson x oc #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x female reader #eddie stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things imagine #stranger things smut #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson slow burn #eddie munson smut

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adder24 · 1 year

Text

The Ranch hand

Warnings: Second time writing smut and quite honestly I still giggle like a twat when writing things like “Cock” Oh wait sorry, this is warnings for within the story? Yeah so there is some stuff I wrote about things you do with the tongue in a sexy way as well as fingers and the fact they do the horizontal pant dance against the wall.

Rating: Very much an R here people.

Summary: For Mal Reynolds, A break from illegal shenanigans and a trip to Beaumonde, leads to more than just a rendezvous with an old friend on his ranch. A new addition to the ranch captivates him and leads to more than just a friendly welcome.

Tags: @nuggsmum @nuggsmumreads @untilthe12ofnever @untilthe12ofnever @wholesome-dragon-lady @plinkitee @izhunny @littletime67 @the-boneyard-rider @emelinelovesjc @bonnie131313 @scnewztown @wolfsmom1 @mother-of-a-murder @dystopian-dez382

Please reblog or tag on. I know it’s a bit of a niche fanbase.

Story below the cut

Mal always knew when it was time to pay Beaumonde an overdue visit. When he pined for open spaces, when he felt the urge to feel grass under his fingertips and to sleep in a proper bed, that was usually the sign that it was time to take a much needed break from his rebellious life.

Luckily he had an old friend that resided on Beaumonde, A man called Kane. He was in his late forties, sported a greying black goatee and was bald on top. He stood at six foot one, stocky build and was a former browncoat like Mal, in fact there were a few times they fought together on the battlefield and Mal always marvelled at how level headed he always was. After the war, Kane lived the same life as Mal, until he met Rebecca and ended up settling down and running a ranch.

They stayed in touch, Kane updating Mal on his life, sharing transmissions and even introducing his daughter Amber, now four years old. On the last transmission they shared together, Kane told Mal about the new Ranch hand he had hired, excitedly told him about the new cows and even informed him of a new barn he was working on. So of course, Mal needed to stop by and see what all the fussin’ was about. It was a viable excuse in his eyes.

When he told the crew about visiting Kane’s ranch, they were more than accepting of the idea, in fact they were thrilled because it meant for the first time in a while, they could all unwind and relax.

It took them four days to get to Kane’s ranch but once they had landed they were given a warm welcome and loads of cuddles from Amber, who Zoe lovingly nicknamed the blonde whirlwind. She was a typical four year old, inquisitive, sometimes mischievous and often mastered the butter wouldn’t melt look by giving her parents big blue eyes and a rosy cheeked smile. In short she was adorable and luckily for Zoe, she managed to strike up a friendship with her daughter Emma, which also meant double the trouble.

“There he is!” Mal said happily as Kane casually strolled towards them

Kane was wearing his black Stetson, a red plaid shirt and black jeans to match his black boots. He had a big smile on his face and he threw his arms around Mal, giving him a warm hug.

“Been a while Reynolds. How’s the verse?” Kane asked him as he released him from his bear-like hug.

“Still plying me with credits and adventures aplenty” Mal replied happily “How’s the Ranch? And where is your smoking hot wife?”

“She’s hiding in the barn with the new farm hand, settling in the new cows. Come and say hi” Kane says encouragingly

“Say hi to the cows or hi to the farm hand?” Mal asked

“How about both?” Kane replied with a playful look in his eyes

“I don’t like that look Kane, that look spells trouble. Every time” Mal protested before begrudgingly following his friend.

There was no denying that Kane and Rebecca had made the ranch their own. Their six bedroom ranch house had been completely renovated to their style and tastes, the once white exterior panelling replaced with a mix of Sandstone and timber, making it strong against the elements of Beaumonde. The timber was stained with a mahogany stainer and the sandstone still clean looking despite being exposed to the elements. The grass gardens were beautifully landscaped and well maintained and the surrounding areas for the cows and harvest were also kept in good condition. There was no denying that Kane worked hard to get it to that level.

As well as the house, Kane had completely renovated the barns and stables within the lands of the ranch and Mal couldn’t help but fall in love with the place.

“You must have spent many credits getting this place looking all shiny” Mal said as he gazed across the land.

“I don’t like to think about it,” Kane replied as he walked towards the barn, where a stunning red haired woman stood waiting for him.

Rebecca. A former outlaw with long flowing red hair, emerald green eyes, stunning cheekbones, freckles on her nose and a sharp jawline. She was, as Mal said, smoking hot and Kane was indeed extremely lucky to have met her, especially since he fell into a river while drunk and she had to dive in and save him. She was dressed similarly to Kane, only her jeans were faded blue and the plaid red shirt had smaller black checks in comparison to Kanes.

“Hi Mal!” She shouted before Kane pulled her in for a passionate kiss.

Mal rolled his eyes and chuckled “Put her down stud”

Kane just smirked and gave Rebecca a quick peck on the cheek before heading into the barn, allowing Rebecca to give Mal a cuddle.

“Been a while Cowboy. Come on, I got someone who wants to meet you” She said happily

“The cows?” Mal asked

“The cows as well” Rebecca replied as she escorted him to one of the freshly made pens; The cows settled themselves in and got themselves acquainted with their new surroundings and right in the middle of the pen, throwing out feed, was the new farm hand. A petite woman, athletic build with long, wavy, raven black hair pulled into a tail. She wore a white open blouse with a black vest underneath, black cargo pants with tanned boots and a black stetson. She was gorgeous and Mal couldn’t stop staring.

“Russo, this is our good friend Mal” Rebecca said, snapping Mal out of his thoughts.

“THE Captain Mal? Mal Reynolds?” She asked as her eyes grew big “I have heard alot about you from these two. Apparently you’re the reason these two met” She said happily

“Err...Yeah, I was. We got blind drunk and he fell into a river and was saved by Rebecca and I apparently was passed out on the river bank” Mal replied, stumbling over his words a little.

Russo chuckled and then gave him a playful wink “He’s cute, I like him”

“He’s only cute some of the time, rest of the time he’s a real jerk!” Kane replied playfully “Come on Mal, let's get you and the crew fed. Rebecca made her famous mac and cheese and Amber made cookies”

“Okay” Mal replied, still watching Russo “Bye Russo!”

“Bye Mal” Russo replied with a giggle, as she continued to put out feed

Kane wrapped his left arm around Mal’s shoulders and guided him in the direction of the ranch house, chuckling every time his friend kept looking back at Russo. He knew Russo was his type, strong, independent woman who was often accepted as an honorary bro among male friends. A little like Rebecca in a way.

“So what do you think of Russo?” Kane asked, already knowing his answer.

Mal cleared his throat, glancing back at her once again.“She’s a fine woman, stunning in fact…where did you get her from?”

“I’ll tell you tomorrow. Come on, let's eat” Kane replied as he patted his shoulder.

Both men made their way back to the ranch house and began preparing a feast. Mac and cheese was on the menu, along with steak, salad, freshly made cornbread, chicken wings and burgers.

The entire crew, plus Kane and his family, fitted around the long dining table that he had crafted himself. Food was passed around, plates were stacked high with food and everyone talked and shared stories of their adventures around the verse. Yet throughout the whole exchange of stories and food, Mal and Russo were busy exchanging sultry looks and seductive gestures, tempting each other, getting under each other's skin as they attempted to drive the other wild. It was just a question of who would break first.

As the evening grew late and the coffee was drunk, people began to retire to their rooms. The first being that of Amber and Zoe’s daughter Emma, understandably, followed shortly after by Zoe. A few hours later Kaylee followed in pursuit, closely followed by the Tams. By the time it was midnight, Jayne was barely hanging on and those who remained were also contemplating calling it a night. Rebecca was curled up on Kane’s lap, snuggled into his chest as she rested her eyes, the man holding her in his arms, kissing her forehead gently before brushing her hair away from her eyes.

“Okay stunner…I think it’s time we crawled into bed and let these folk get some beauty sleep” He said softly.

“Oh… no need, no amount of sleep will make me beautiful” Mal piped up as he yawned and rubbed his eyes.

“And I am already beautiful” Jayne said sleepily as he slowly hauled himself off the couch “But it doesn't hurt to top up once in a while. Have a good sleep you darn animals”

Mal chuckled as he watched Jayne go up, closely followed by Kane who had managed to lift Rebecca up and was carrying her bridal style.

“Me and the hot smoking wife are also going up, been a long day for us both. Have a good night kids” He says, looking at both Mal and Russo.

Mal smiled and saluted the man as he climbed the stairs. It was just him and Russo left and the sexul tension in the room went up a notch. He gazed upon her, studying her as she locked eyes with him, a sultry smile on her lips as she ran her finger around the rim of her cup, gathering up the cream and putting it to her lips before slowly sucking off the cream from her fingertip.

It got the desired effect she craved, causing Mal to squirm as he fought back his urges. She giggled when his cheeks flushed red and he tried to clear his throat.

“You haven’t taken your eyes off me all day cowboy” She purred as she slowly stood up from the table “What’s got your attention?”

“You’re my type.” Mal blurts out.

“And what exactly is your type Captain Reynolds?” She asked as she slowly sauntered over to him.

“I like a woman who can stand her ground, someone who has a sense of humour and is a little bit feisty” Mal replied honestly as he held her gaze. “I’m sensing that in bucket loads with you”

She smiled sweetly at him and then straddled him on the chair, running her finger down his cheek.

“Is that your gun prodding me?” She asked with a knowing look

“No, I left that in the shi-ooooh you already know the answer” Mal replied innocently

“Yuh huh. So, I think we need to go and deal with this, somewhere away from the small folks ears” Russo suggested

“Barn?” Mal asked

“Barn” Russo responded as she ran her hand slowly down his chest to his belt. Giving it a tug “You in stud?”

“Oh I will be” Mal responded, gazing upon her in desire

In that brief pause, the fire between them grew, the heat becoming insatiable. There was a want and a need to give into their desires, to know the other intimately while enjoying the ecstasy that came with it. Mal caved first as he leaned in and pressed his soft lips against hers, his eyes closing as she deepened the kiss, parting her lips, allowing his tongue to plunge into her mouth, exploring and dancing with her own tongue. Small happy noises escaped her mouth as the kiss grew more heated, his hands becoming knotted in her vest while her nimble fingers expertly unfastened a few buttons on his shirt. Both getting caught up in their lust for one another, forgetting their surroundings momentarily before Russo broke off the kiss.

“Barn” She growled into his ear as she climbed off his lap.

Mal gulped and then scrambled from the chair he occupied, following Russo like a puppy dog to the barn. She led him through a side door, closing it behind them as she turned on the lights and dimmed them on the sophisticated system that Kane had set up. Something Mal was about to question before Russo yanked him away, dragging him into the hay room and allowing him to manhandle her, pinning her against a wall as their lips met again, the kiss more heated than the last as their lips frequently pushed against each other, her hands effortlessly sliding underneath his leather suspenders, pushing them down his arms while he shucked them off, slipping his hands underneath her vest top, slowly hitching it up her toned body, breaking off the kiss to allow her to pull it over her head and throw it on the floor, exposing the black lace bralette she was wearing underneath.

Her nimble fingers then got to work on unfastening the rest of the buttons on his shirt while she kissed and nibbled his neck, making him groan under her touch. Once she unfastened his shirt, she took a moment to let her fingers explore his toned physique before she delicately dragged them over his stomach down to his belt, slowly unfastening it. He in turn shucked off his shirt and dropped it on the floor, reclaiming her lips once more while his fingers tugged at her trouser waistband. A growl of frustration escaped his lips before he got creative. He slipped his hand into her trousers, his fingers tip-toeing their way down to her moistened entrance, effortlessly slipping beneath her lace underwear before gracefully entering her with two of his long fingers.

A small gasp escaped her lips as his fingers got to work, gently pumping In and out, hitting her soft spongy spot, over and over again, small little moans falling from her mouth. Her body tingled with excitement from the unexpected intrusion and welcomed the way the man dragged his lips down her neck, occasionally nibbling on her sweet spots to make her knees shake and buckle from the overwhelming pleasure coursing through her body, slowly becoming undone by his touch.

She tugged at his trousers, desperately wanting his engorged member burrowed deep within her but he had other ideas in mind as a smirk spread across his lips. He stole her lips again as he slowly removed his fingers from her silky depths and slowly began edging her trousers down, taking her underwear with them. He trailed kisses down from neck to her chest, distracting her momentarily before he swiftly pushed down her trousers, moving with the action, his lips now gently kissing her stomach, working her into a frenzy as her body tensed in anticipation of his next move as his lips moved further down, his fingers gently running down her legs to the back of her knees, holding there while he began to deflower her with his tongue.

She bucked her hips, mewling as she felt his tongue explore her core, swiping, tasting and teasing her as she ran her fingers through his thick luscious hair, her fingers getting themselves knotted, as tiny gasps fell from her lips. The man certainly knew his way around as he worked her sweet spot, bringing her close to releasing her sweet necter. She bit her lip and threw her head back, toes curling as she battled with herself, not wanting to reach her peak before the main event but he was making it difficult for her as she could feel herself slowly start to unravel before him. Somehow the man sensed her climax was starting to peak and slowly withdrew his dangerous tongue and began kissing his way back up to her soft lips, allowing her to taste her own sweet arousal. He pressed himself up against her as their tongues danced, placing his hands on the wall behind her as he allowed her hands to explore once more, delicate fingers feeling every gnarly scar on his body, his skin reacting by erupting into goosebumps, hair standing on end as she caressed his toned stomach before latching onto the waistband of his trousers, unbuttoning them and sliding them down, releasing his hardened cock.

She looked down at the sight before her, taking in the size of his package before he masterfully lifted her up, hooking his arms under her legs and allowing her to wrap her legs around his waist. They took a moment to catch their breaths and gaze upon each other, admiring each other's natural beauty. To him, she was stunning and everything he craved for in his ideal woman.To her he was handsome, charming and strong. They didn’t exchange words, they didn’t need to, it was in their eyes what they desired.

Then their lips found each other once again, frantically clashing, caressing and pressing over and over again, while he slowly adjusted his position and as he deepened the kiss, he carefully pushed his hips forward and entered her, filling her entirely with his member. Her walls stretched to accommodate him as a loud audible gasp escaped her mouth. He allowed her a moment to adjust to his size, feeling her tighten around him before she gave him the nod to continue. He started slowly, gentle thrusts while he gently nipped and nibbled her collarbone, causing her nerves to spark little ripples of ecstasy through her body; She was already turned on by the way he took charge and pinned her to the wall, yet when he hoisted her up with his strong arms and began to slowly thrust his hips, he made her feel electric and she couldn’t resist dragging her nails down his spine, causing him to growl in his throat, urging him to up his tempo.

She craved to be manhandled, to be slammed against the wall and ploughed within an inch of her life. She enjoyed it rough but at the moment he was either being too polite or he was building up to it.

“Harder” She whimpered as she dug her nails into his back.

"Harder?” He asked

“Mmmhmm, I like it rough” She purred as she nibbled his ear.

It provoked a response from Mal. He gripped her thighs tightly, digging his nails into her skin as he upped his rhythm. A growl escaped his lips as his thrusts became more powerful, causing Russo to gasp and moan as she clamped around him.

"I thought I was the captain" He growled against her ear while keeping pace.

“You are” Russo moaned as she ran her fingers through his hair, losing herself

“Good girl, now you better try and not come undone before I tell you to” Mal ordered as he pushed himself in a little more, causing her to whimper while her body trembled in ecstasy “And if you do, I’ll have no choice but to punish you. You understand?”

She nodded her head, unable to speak as she started to fall into a blissful haze. She could feel him pounding her sweet spot over and over again, trying desperately not to release her sweet nectar before being commanded to. Little whimpers fell from her lips, almost begging him but the more she whined, the more he slowed and the more he relished her little pleas for release.

"Someone's a little sensitive" He purred as he nibbled her neck.

"Please captain" She pleaded "I can't hold on much longer.

She could feel a smile spread across his lips, her begging him was like music to his ears. He wanted to play a little more and so he kept his thrusts slow and gentle, freeing one hand to caress her breasts while his lips nibbled, licked and sucked every inch of her neck and collarbone. It was driving her insane, every moan and groan was a plea for release, each slow and gentle thrust was almost excruciating, as her body ached for him to fill her with his seed. He knew how to make her wait, knew how to play her body and bring her to the brink of release and then delaying that final push. He took pleasure from it, enjoyed riling her up and leaving her suspended in bliss, yet despite the teasing, even he longed for his own release. He gently caressed her lips with his own, gazing at her momentarily before slowly nodding his head.

“Alright…I think I’ve worked you hard enough” He purrs softly

He steals another kiss from her before he begins to increase his rhythm, his thrusts becoming more and more powerful as he begins to start slamming his hips against hers, causing a rhythmic thudding against the stable wall while he pounds her sweet spot over and over again groaning and grunting with pleasure, his hands gripping her legs tightly, her hands running through his hair as they both start to reach their peak, their movements more frantic before both are overcome with a wave of pleasure washing over them. Russo’s toes curled as her body came alive, pleasure flowing from her core, causing her skin to erupt in goosebumps as her whole body trembled at his touch, the sheer intensity causing her to moan his name over and over again, urging him on before she could feel him erupting within her core, his legs buckling slightly as he too is overcome with pleasure, his nerves sparking to life with ecstasy as he chants her name before resting his head on the wall behind her, panting, skin glistening with sweat.

They took a moment to bask in the afterglow, regaining their breath and enjoying each other's warmth before Mal carefully pulled himself out and eased her legs down, stealing a few kisses in the process as she rested her hands on his chest.

“...Well….you certainly live up to the name…the great Mal Reynolds” She purred.

“Was I everything you hoped for?” He asked with a grin, holding her gaze.

“Everything and more, wouldn’t mind you boarding me once again” She replied playfully, causing a chuckle to escape Mal’s lips.

“That’s the best one yet. So, round two tomorrow? I’ll let you take the controls this time” He offers as he gathers up their clothes

Russo licked her lips as she studied his naked form, taking in every inch of his body while he sauntered over and handed over her clothes.

"Deal" She replied as she took her clothes from him "Let's see what you got cowboy"

#Serenity #Captain Malcolm Reynolds #Captain Mal #Mal Reynolds #Nathan Fillion #Firefly #smut #why do I do this to myself #Ya know I had a massive crush on Captain Mal Right?#Wait #I still do #Ooops #fanfiction #ship #oh captain my captain #Mr Fillion

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cityofdreamsrp · 1 year

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WELCOME TO OUR SNOWMAN BUILDING CONTEST!

Everyone will be randomly paired together, and each team will build and decorate their own snowman. Once your snowman is complete, post a picture using the hashtag #codsnowman and tagging @cityofdreamsevents so that we can reblog for everyone to see. We have a panel of judges ready to select the winners, and the winners will receive an incentive of their choice! All contest entries should be posted by 8 PM EST on Wednesday, 2/22 to count towards voting. Any entries made after that will not count.

**We do ask that prior to posting your snowman picture, please check the tag to make sure someone else hasn’t used that particular one**

See below for the pairings! Get with your partner to plan out your snowman and get your post drafted. If you’d like to write out the process via F2F or gif chat, or even if you just want to headcanon it with your partner, will be entirely up to you!

Jessica Chastain & Talia Ryder

Emma Stone & Sidney Crosby

Lottie Tomlinson & Madelyn Cline

Joseph Quinn & Cody Christian

Saoirse Ronan & Shawn Mendes

Lauren Jauregui & Ariana Grande

Mitchell Marner & Florence Pugh

Robbie Amell & Max Domi

Dove Cameron & Jack Lowden

Margot Robbie & Sabrina Carpenter

Hailey Baldwin & Ryan Ross

Joe Burrow & Chris Evans

Sophie Turner & Pedro Pascal

Renee Rapp & Kelsea Ballerini

Jonathan Daviss & Natalia Dyer

Austin Butler & Sydney Sweeney

Gracie Dzienny & James Norton

Taylor Swift & Zac Efron

Nina Dobrev & Sofia Carson

Vanessa Morgan & Demi Lovato

Imogen Poots & Nick Jonas

Taylor Hill & Bill Skarsgard

Harry Styles & Hunter Schafer

Luke Hemmings & Winona Ryder

Rudy Pankow & Awsten Knight

Laura Harrier & Vanessa Hudgens

Elizabeth Olsen & Grace Van Dien

Troye Sivan & Travis Kelce

Patrick Mahomes & Jacob Elordi

Timothee Chalamet & Zendaya

Cari Fletcher & Ja’Marr Chase

Alexandra Daddario & Daniel Ezra

Gemma Chan & Selena Gomez

Joe Jonas & Alycia Debnam-Carey

Emilia Clarke &

#codgoestoaspen #codsnowman

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hollyethecurious · 1 year

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I posted 853 times in 2022

101 posts created (12%)

752 posts reblogged (88%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@pirateherokillian

@wyntereyez

@hollyethecurious

@killian-whump

@kwistowee

I tagged 744 of my posts in 2022

Only 13% of my posts had no tags

#colin o'donoghue - 158 posts

#killian jones - 132 posts

#captain swan - 75 posts

#captain hook - 41 posts

#icymi - 39 posts

#curious replies - 37 posts

#911 lone star - 32 posts

#cs ff - 31 posts

#words by hollye - 31 posts

#ask game - 27 posts

Longest Tag: 92 characters

#emma enlists killian to come to a family dinner so he can take some of the heat off her from

My Top Posts in 2022:

CS AU: Pan Says... (2/?)

Summary: After waking up in a strange room with a naked stranger, Emma and Killian must endure the twisted game their kidnapper insists they play in order to gain provisions and avoid punishments.

A/N: Sorry I took so long to update. Originally, this part was going to be much longer, incorporating several prompts that were sent to me, but I have opted to go about it differently now. In an effort to highlight each prompt (or the bits of prompts I’m fusing together for a single scene), I’m going to keep the updates focused on one or two Pan Says scenarios as well as their reward/punishment.

I am still taking prompts, so if something comes to mind please feel free to send it in an Ask. Nothing is off limits, as I don’t really have triggers and very few things squick me out, however, I cannot guarantee every Ask will make it into an update. I’ll continue to take prompts until an end game for the fic emerges.

Lots of love to @ultraluckycatnd and @kmomof4 for their exceptional beta skills on this one!

Rated M & eventual E /Also available on ao3 and ff.net / buy me a coffee / add to tag list / Curious? Come Ask Me! / Part One

Prompt & Content Warnings: This prompt came from the csmm Discord - “Tell the other something you don’t like about them.” I don’t think there are any additional content warnings that apply to this part that weren’t listed for Part One, but as with every update to this fic: read at your own risk!

Part Two

“Swan, will you please come sit down?”

“I can’t. I can’t sit down. Not while you’re so calm. You should be yelling at me. Why aren’t you yelling at me?”

“I don’t want to yell at you. There’s no reason for me to yell at you.”

“No reason?” Emma shouted, rounding on him as he sat on the edge of bed, finally halting her frantic pacing. “Killian. I blew it. Failing Round One, that was all--”

“That was not your fault, Swan.”

“Yes, it was! Don’t try and make me feel better about blowing our chance to get out of here. It is my fault. I pulled you into the damn kiss.”

“Aye, you did.” He stood, the pillow still firmly in place over his groin, and Emma had to force herself to not keep glancing down at it every few seconds, focusing instead on his exasperated expression and increasingly frustrated tone. “But in your desperation to get us the fuck out of here, it seems you failed to notice my lips were halfway to meeting yours before your hand even met my shoulder!”

Taken aback, Emma’s lips parted, but he barreled on before she could respond. “That kiss was going to happen, Emma. Whether you initiated it or not, that kiss would have happened. We both fell for Pan’s tricks, and blaming ourselves or one another will do us no good. We have to keep our wits about us and focus on being constructive, because sooner or later he’ll be back to commence with Round Two and God only knows what fresh hell awaits us.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t classify what I have planned for you as hell,” Pan stated over the speakers. “In fact, I’m prepared to make you a very generous offer.”

“Save it.”

“Now now, Emma,” Pan tsked. “Let’s not be hasty.”

The sudden slide of a metal panel startled Emma, causing her to stumble back. Killian moved to stand in front of her, both of them unnerved by the sight of a now exposed window looking into the room from the outer hallway… and that which lay on the other side of it.

Two masked figures, dressed all in black, stood shoulder to shoulder facing them with long, black, pronged batons gripped in their hands.

“Meet my Lost Ones,” Pan said. “Round Two sometimes requires a bit of encouragement in order to really get going, so they’ll be doing my bidding if necessary.” A long pause echoed through the room before Pan spoke again, his tone low and applying a clear measure of threat. “I’d advise you both in making that necessity as infrequent as possible.”

The panel slid closed, hiding the window and the shadowy specters from view, and Pan’s voice was once again jovial.

“As I was saying, I am prepared to make you both a very generous offer!”

“What offer would that be?” Killian questioned through his clenched jaw, reluctantly playing along.

“Pan Says you can earn everything back if… you both spend two full minutes appreciating one another’s naked body.”

Furtive glances were exchanged, and Emma could see the slightest shake of Killian’s head, ready to refuse.

The action did not go unnoticed by Pan either. “Oh, please. Don’t act so noble. You both got your fill of each other’s backsides while taking turns in the shower, so what’s the big deal in paying equal attention to each other’s fronts?”

Emma hated that he had a point. They’d both been guilty of ogling each other in the shower, the only difference in his request was that there would be no sneaky peeks. Actually, that was not the only difference. This time, when she and Killian admired one another, it would be with the other’s full consent. Killian had already given his last night in a blanket statement, but based on the way he had his head craned upward, doing all he could to avoid looking at her at all, he would need for her to reciprocate his words if he was going to agree.

“Killian, look at me.” He shook his head, his Adam’s apple jumping and his teeth grinding in agitation. “Last night you told me I had your consent. Remember?” He nodded, but kept his gaze skyward until she took his hand and brought it up to rest against her sheet shrouded chest. “Well you have mine, too,” she told him, her eyes piercing into his, imploring him to understand why she needed him to agree. When he still seemed unsure and unwilling to relent, she quietly murmured, “Please. I don’t want to give him any reason to send those two in here. ‘Cause we both know they won’t care about our consent, only Pan’s rules.”

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66 notes - Posted January 2, 2022

CS AU: Conviction (3/?)

Summary: The story had been front page news for months. Scandalous details of a married woman of low birth and with limited means, murdering her husband; hatcheting him to death in order to save her own life and that of her unborn child - or so she claimed. No evidence to support her allegations of abuse had been presented during the trial, but in the end, it was the fact that Mrs. Cassidy was with child that saved her from a verdict of murder in the first degree, a judgment that carried the death penalty for both men and women alike. As an act of mercy, a lesser charge was issued, one that spared her life but now made her Misthaven Penitentiary’s problem to contend with, and more specifically, the Captain of the Guard charged with keeping order within its walls.

A/N: I continue to be blown away by the response to this fic. Thank y’all so much!

In answer to a question I received after the last chapter posted, this fic IS written entirely from Killian’s POV.

Thanks to my amazing betas, @snowbellewells and @kmomof4. Also, shout out to @sotangledupinit for the assist in defringing (there, @teamhook, is that better?) Killian for the art.

Rated T-M (for themes, mentions of abuse, murder, and attempted assault) / Available on ao3 and ff.net / buy me a coffee / add to tag list

Chapter One | Chapter Two

Chapter Three

As the weeks passed, the Captain of the Guard and his unusual charge settled into a familiar routine. Every night Killian would spend time outside her cell, talking with Swan about all manner of things. He would bring her books to read so they might discuss them, and she would share with him the local gossip she’d heard from Granny or one of the other ladies Elsa had recruited to keep her company during visiting hours and the morning walks he still oversaw before leaving each day.

It warmed his heart to see her cell filled with items gifted to her or crafted by her own hand with the yarn and knitting needles she’d come to master. Soft blankets, hats, and booties were overflowing the trunk Marco, the town carpenter, had made for her to hold such keepsakes. Another trunk had been approved to house the garments she’d collected through the generosity of her new friends in order to accommodate her expanding waist and keep her warm during the frigid nights as winter swiftly settled over the prison.

Nights like this one.

Killian turned up the collar of his overcoat and shivered past the drafts seeping in through every crack and crevice within the old stone prison. With a new, heavy blanket in his arms, he made his way to Swan’s cell, intending to spend a few moments with her while Officer Booth (who had replaced Robin on night watch) finished his patrol.

A few of the prisoners nodded at him as he passed, the cold making sleep difficult for them, and one or more groused under their breath at the sight of the blanket. Towards the end of the block, dirt-stained arms hung over the cross brace of the barred door, and one of their newest inmates, Will Scarlet, gave Killian a look bordering on insubordinate as he cheeked, “Something to help keep the missus warm, Captain?”

Killian ignored the man’s question, pausing before his cell only to issue him an order to get back in bed.

“It’s just…” Scarlet continued with a tone of ribbing. “I think someone’s beat you to it.”

Killian’s brow arched up his forehead. Before he asked the thief what he meant by that statement, the soft sound of Swan’s hushed laughter perked his ears. Setting off, he rounded the corner and found Booth standing outside her cell, a bright smile stretching over his usually wooden features as he passed a thick quilt through the bars.

“Officer Booth,” Killian barked, causing the man to balk and snap to attention. “Have you finished patrol?”

“No, Captain,” the man answered.

“Then I suggest you get back to it before I write you up for dereliction of your duty.”

Booth gave his captain a stiff nod, his eyes flicking back towards the cell as if unsure whether he could risk saying anything more to the woman inside. Resolving it wasn’t a risk he was willing to take, Booth made his way past Killian and back to the cell block to continue his patrol. Killian’s flickering jaw muscle practically chased him as he went.

“He was only checking on me,” Swan said, her face pressed between the bars with a look of alarm pinching at her features. “Officer Booth has always been kind, he’s never done or said anything improper. He’s--”

“I know, Swan,” Killian assured her as he closed the distance between them. “I know August is a good man with no… untoward intentions. But he does have duties, and he’s new to the night shift. Many of the men think standards can be lowered during the night because the inmates are asleep, when really it’s the time to be as vigilant as possible.”

Swan nodded, chewing on both her lip and his words before her eyes fell to the blanket in his arms. An amused sound huffed from her chest. “Is that for me?”

“Aye,” Killian replied. A swell of heat rose up the back of his neck, prickling behind his ear until he reached up to paw at it. “I thought you might need an additional blanket to help keep you warm, but it seems Officer Booth has already seen to that comfort.”

His eyes flicked down to the quilt tucked beneath her arm, then back up to her face, which was covered with an expression of affection. Normally, he would have been pleased to see such an appearance, yet for some reason he found himself rather perturbed by the sight of it.

“He isn’t the only one,” she told him, turning to the side and gesturing to a stack of quilts, afghans, and other spreads teetering upon one of her trunks. “Every visitor I’ve had this week has seen fit to bring me at least one.”

The irritation that had flared within his chest subsided when he realized her temperament was because of all the care and kindness she’d received from the community at large and not just from a single, particular source. He also resolutely refused to examine that initial annoyance any further, choosing instead to focus on the issue he could see swirling within the depths of her green eyes as she vacillated over giving it voice.

“What is it, Swan?”

“I know it’s probably against regulations, seeing as there aren’t enough for everyone, but…” Her eyes turned pleading as she gazed up at him, and Killian knew no matter what her request might be, he was unlikely to refuse her. “I have more than enough to keep me comfortable while others must spend the long nights absolutely freezing. Would it… would it be possible to have these extra blankets dispensed to other inmates? Perhaps the older, frailer ones?”

Killian stared down at her, stunned. It really shouldn’t have surprised him that she would be willing to share her excess with others she felt were more in need, but such mindsets were not at all commonplace within the hardened walls of a prison, or among equally hardened prisoners.

See the full post

66 notes - Posted April 24, 2022

CS AU: Conviction (5/?)

A/N: My apologies for not updating last week. While I am determined to maintain a regular, weekly schedule, I'm afraid I've fallen behind on my wiring, and therefore I can't guarantee there won't be more skipped weeks. Now that my homeschool semester is over, I'm hoping to get more writing time so I can catch back up. I just ask that y'all be patient with me.

Thank you for all the lovely comments! I treasure them, and am so thrilled y'all seem to love this story as much as I do! Also, thanks to my amazing betas, @snowbellewells and @kmomof4. Also, shout out to @sotangledupinit for the assist in defringing Killian for the art.

Rated T-M (for themes, mentions of abuse, murder, and attempted assault) / Available on ao3 and ff.net / buy me a coffee / add to tag list

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Snow swirled and the frigid air burned in Killian’s lungs. The scent of pine danced in his sinuses and tickled his tongue, the aroma of the season stirring those feelings of good tidings even though there had been no great joy in his days for the past few weeks.

Actually, that wasn’t completely true. Despite the rift between himself and his brother - a chasm that had only grown wider since his brother’s decree, forcing Killian from Swan’s presence and the pleasure of her company, while removing any comfort his might have given her - there had been moments of elation and gratitude to help lighten the otherwise gloomy December days.

Elsa had wasted no time in acquiring the services of a few masons and the blacksmith, converting the old offices along the upper level of the officer’s wing into a much larger cell for Swan and her swiftly approaching arrival. The men had offered their time and materials, free of charge, and word had spread regarding the prison’s forthcoming addition, spurring the townsfolk into actions of charity, not only for Miss Swan, but the entire prison as well.

The soft crunch of compacted snow, mixed with the shuffle of freshly fallen flakes echoed beneath Killian’s boots as he made his way up the long drive towards the prison. He stopped for a moment, adjusting the bulky item in his arms so he could tighten his scarf, a slight shiver traveling down his spine when the winter breeze whispered across the thin layer of perspiration dampening his skin from the exertion of carrying the object from town. A ring of faint laughter tinkled through the air, and Killian knew the carolers he’d passed in the village must be making their way to the prison.

He remembered lamenting many months ago about how they were to make it through the winter without the assistance of the convent. He never would have imagined the outpouring of care, kindness, and compassion they had received from the town’s residents, from necessities like foodstuffs and fuels, to the indulgence of new clothing for the prisoners and a collection for the officers’ uniforms, as well as decorations and community visits to help lift the population’s spirits. Killian could not remember a more festive or exhilarating Christmas season in all his years, and though Elsa had certainly had her hand in making it happen, Killian knew the true prompting that had brought the whole town together to rally around Misthaven Penitentiary was Emma.

A cloud of vapor briefly hung in the air from where Killian had exhaled heavily. Emma. His Swan. Not a day had gone by that he had not thought of her, and not simply because the work being done on her new cell was happening, quite literally, before his very eyes day after day. He’d timed his arrival during those first few shifts he’d reported for duty with when she’d usually be out on her walks, so he would at least have the opportunity to see her, perhaps even speak with her. However, his brother had accounted for such an action and had issued new orders regarding her yard time. Now that they were back to full staff, they no longer had to depend on the off-duty night shift to perform the task, so she was worked into the day rotation schedule, usually escorted from her cell when Killian was in the training room with one of the new recruits.

The sound of his boot falls interrupted the quiet once more as he trod up the path towards the prison gate. Two of the recruits were milling about in the yard, most likely awaiting the arrival of the carolers. They snapped to attention as soon as they spotted him, one moving quickly to open the door for their captain, whose arms were still laden with an object he hoped to deliver before the visitors’ arrival.

It was a yearly tradition, the carolers beginning their Christmas Eve serenade at the prison before moving through town and finishing at the church for the Silent Night Service. They would spend some time visiting with the prisoners first, encouraging them with conversation and perhaps a small, gifted token, like a piece of peppermint or some other candy, to commemorate the holiday, then sing a few carols before moving on. Killian had always enjoyed the Christmas Eve caroling and the festivities it brought with it, the guards finding ways to make their own merriment as those off-duty joined the on-duty shift for a celebratory toast after the carolers departed, but this year… The rift between him and Liam would most likely sour whatever toast their warden made, and the only person with whom he wished to share Christmas he was forbidden from seeing.

That hadn’t stopped him from bringing her a gift, though.

Depositing the item in his office, Killian straightened his appearance, smoothing down his hair, which had become tussled by the winter wind, and took in a steadying breath as dread gnawed his gut. Never before had he been anxious to face his brother, not to this degree at least, and he wondered if the damage both their words and actions had caused to their relationship would be permanent. In addition to keeping his distance from Swan, as ordered, Killian had done all he could to avoid Liam these past few weeks, dispatching another officer to meet with the warden in his stead and begging off all of Elsa’s invitations to share dinner with them now he had his evenings free. When the rare moment occurred that he had to report to the warden’s office himself, he had been overly formal and guarded with a rapport of extreme professionalism, a conduct Liam had reciprocated in kind.

It had not escaped Killian’s notice that the officers walked on eggshells around them both, nor could he deny the strain it was starting to have on Elsa, who desperately tried to get the two brothers together so they might discuss the matter rather than allow it to continue to fester. Killian would be lying if he said the glimmer of tears in her eyes when he’d turned down the offer to spend Christmas with them hadn’t made his heart twist painfully in his chest, but he knew he’d only bring the celebration down with his sullenness, and he wasn’t about to make her sister or her sister’s family uncomfortable with the added tension his presence would bring.

Besides… Swan was supposed to be moved into her new cell Christmas morning, and Killian wanted to be there, even if he couldn’t share the occasion by her side or give her the gift he’d worked on with Marco himself.

Exiting his office, he glanced across the corridor as he passed the new cell and paused. Philip and Thomas - two of the newest recruits and set to make officer after the first of the year - were bustling around the space, depositing firewood into the nook beside the hearth and positioning the new furnishings into place, readying the cell for its new inhabitant. A copper tub sat in the corner, partially hidden behind a partition that would provide her privacy when she bathed, the fireplace allowing her not only warmth, but the ability to heat water without the assistance of the guards. A rocking chair faced the hearth, a fresh mattress was laid out upon the suspended frame on the opposite wall, and a wardrobe filled the opposite corner, ready for Swan’s and her baby's belongings to be transferred from the trunks they’d been packed in for months. A smile lifted the corners of his mouth, a moment of gladdened contentment pushing past the longing that had been hollowing out his chest cavity day by day.

“Do you need something, Captain?”

The question brought Killian back to his purpose. “No. Thank you, Thomas. Carry on.”

Leaving the recruits to finish their work, Killian turned and fortified himself before raising his hand to knock on the warden’s door. Dutifully, he waited until he heard his brother bid entrance.

“Killian?” Liam said, standing from his chair with a perplexed yet tentatively relieved expression. His hair was as unruly as Killian’s, but where the wind had been responsible for the younger Jones’ appearance, it seemed the chaotic nature of Liam’s hair had been caused by his fingers continuously running through the curly strands. “I was not sure you’d return for the festivities when Erik informed me you’d already left for the day.”

Killian lifted his chin, his hands tucked behind his back with his posture board straight as he addressed his warden. “I had an errand to run in town, sir.”

“I see,” Liam commented, wincing a bit at the curt edge of Killian’s formal tone. Making his way around the desk, Liam paused when he reached the front edge, wringing his hands for a moment before letting them fall to his sides. “I was sorry to hear you refused our invitation for Christmas,” he said. “And not because it means I must endure Elsa’s sister and brother-in-law without the aid of my li...er, younger brother.”

Killian’s brows twitched, nearly pinching together in disbelief at the correction. Was his brother attempting to make amends? It wasn’t like Liam to concede, to ever admit he might be wrong, and if it was his intention to make things right then it surely had to have been prompted by Elsa.

“I offered to take the Christmas shift so Thomas could spend the holiday with his wife. I felt the other recruits deserved to spend the day with their lady loves as well.”

“And the fact Mrs. Cassidy is moving to the cell across the hall tomorrow morning had no bearing on such an offer, I’m sure.”

Killian stiffened further, his posture becoming more rigid as he geared up for another row with his brother, but the spark of anger Liam’s quip had ignited was quickly snuffed out with his brother’s next words.

See the full post

69 notes - Posted May 15, 2022

WIP Wednesday: New CS AU Sneak Peek

Summary: The story had been front page news for months. Scandalous details of a married woman of low birth and with limited means, murdering her husband; hatcheting him to death in order to save her own life and that of her unborn child - or so she claimed. No evidence to support her allegations of abuse had been presented during the trial, but in the end, it was the fact that Mrs. Cassidy was with child that saved her from a verdict of murder in the first degree, a judgment that carried the death penalty for both men and women alike. As an act of mercy, a lesser charge was issued, one that spared her life but now made her Misthaven Penitentiary's problem to contend with, and more specifically, the Captain of the Guard charged with keeping order within its walls.

A/N: This fic was inspired by the true account of Martha Casto who was incarcerated in the Missouri State Penitentiary in 1843 for manslaughter. I first heard her story on an episode of Who Do You Think You Are, featuring the lineage of actress Cynthia Nixon. While I have taken some details of Martha’s crime and sentencing to weave into the story, mine will not be a retelling of the accounts of her time in prison. Also, while I am setting this fic in the same time period as the inspiration (mid-1800s), I will be taking some historical liberties.

Thanks to my amazing betas, @snowbellewells and @kmomof4. Also, shout out to @sotangledupinit for the assist in debanging (don’t make it dirty, people) Killian for the art.

Rated T-M (for themes, mentions of abuse, murder, and attempted assault) / updating weekly on Sundays / buy me a coffee / add to tag list / Curious? Come Ask Me!

Sneak Peek from Chapter One:

“Mrs. Cassidy, I am Liam Jones, Warden here at Misthaven Penitentiary, and this is my Captain of the Guard, Killian Jones.”

Killian gave the woman a curt nod and tried to focus his attention on the words Liam was speaking. Not that he really needed to. It was the same speech he gave to every other inmate who passed through their doors. Albeit, no other inmate had ever had the privilege of receiving these remarks within the warden’s own office. A change in protocol that further iterated how remarkable a situation they all faced.

Remarkable. Yes. Such a designation seemed apt as Killian took in the woman before him. He was not sure what he had expected of Mrs. Cassidy, but the thin-framed young woman before him certainly was not it. She couldn’t have been more than twenty years old, and only reached his chin. Though she had to be petrified of what lay ahead, her countenance betrayed none of her trepidations. Standing stiff-backed with her head held high, she struck Killian as a tough lass. Tough and bloody beautiful to boot.

His job just got a whole lot harder.

A small grimace passed over her features when she turned back towards the door, having been dismissed by the warden and ready to be led to her cell. Her delicate hands clenched and released, the red welts from the shackles clasped around her wrists stood out in stark contrast to her pale skin. Killian ground his teeth together, a response he’d involuntarily given into a number of times since seeing her disembark from the prison wagon with chains binding her wrists and ankles. It was standard procedure when transporting prisoners, but Killian could barely stomach the sight of those restraints on a woman, regardless of her crime.

Escorted by his fellow guardsman, Robin, Killian marched his prisoner along the corridor towards the catwalk that allowed them to cross over to the other side of the upper level. While passing the manned cells, Killian did his best to shield Mrs. Cassidy from the other prisoners’ view, but it didn’t stop a few taunts and lewd comments thrown her way by one of the more hardened inmates. Pulling his baton from where it rested at his hip, Killian slammed it against the bars as a warning.

“You’d best hold your tongue, before I remove it,” Killian said in a hushed, menacing tone that matched the look he stared the man down with until the perpetrator backed away.

Out of instinct, Killian reached out to grasp the woman’s arm in order to prompt her forward, but retracted his hand when he saw her flinch. He had to bite down on his tongue to keep from apologizing, reminding himself she was just another prisoner and had to be treated as such in order to maintain the necessary balance required for order and discipline within the prison.

They made their way across the catwalk, down the opposite side, and around the corner to her cell without further incident. Robin unlocked the cell door, swinging it wide, while Killian knelt down to remove the shackles around her ankles. The length and layers of her skirts made it difficult to locate the keyhole on the first side, until they suddenly hitched up, revealing her boots and metal irons surrounding them. Killian flicked his eyes up to see Mrs. Cassidy had bunched the fabric up in her hands in order to make the work easier for him, and he was once again tempted to break protocol, swallowing back the thank you that threatened to slip out.

Once her leg irons were removed and handed off to Robin, Killian gestured her inside the cell and closed the door behind her with a loud, jarring clang, causing her to flinch once more.

“Hands,” he ordered. His tone was a bit harsher than he meant it to be, so he was thankful when she slipped her hands between the bars without hesitation.

Like the shackles at her ankles, Killian made quick work of the restraints around her wrists. Anger flared within him at the sight of the red, raw skin revealed beneath the heavy metal, and this time he could not hold back the apology slipping past his lips when a hiss escaped her from the fresh air stinging the open wounds.

“I will have a salve brought to you that will help with those,” Killian told her, passing the wrist restraints off to Robin, who nodded his understanding of the implied order before heading back towards the officers’ station.

“That isn’t necessary,” the woman replied, gingerly rubbing the skin surrounding the welts and sores.

“It’s standard procedure,” Killian informed her, lest she think he was offering her special treatment. “As the warden mentioned, meals will be brought up for you to eat in your cell. Your dinner should arrive within the hour. Have you any questions, Mrs. Cassidy?”

“Emma,” she replied sharply.

“I beg your pardon?”

She sighed and set her features with a firm resolve. “I do not wish to be addressed as Mrs. Cassidy. Please, call me Emma.”

“I am afraid that will not be possible,” Killian told her, attempting to keep the sympathy out of his voice. “My brother feels such familiarity would be inappropriate.”

“Your brother?”

Killian bit back a curse at the carelessness of his words. “I meant, the warden,” he corrected.

“Right,” she nodded. “Jones. I should have realized the connection.” Robin returned and handed the jar of salve and a square of clean linen to her through the bars, which she accepted with a timid thank you. “How should I address you and the other guards if I have need?”

“You may address the guards as Officer, or include that title with their surname.” Killian gestured to Robin. “For instance, this is Officer Locksley.”

Robin offered her a polite nod which she returned before flicking her gaze back to Killian. “And you?”

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80 notes - Posted April 6, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

CS AU: Conviction (1/?)

Thanks to my amazing betas, @snowbellewells and @kmomof4. Also, shout out to @sotangledupinit for the assist in debanging (don’t make it dirty, people) Killian for the art.

Rated T-M (for themes, mentions of abuse, murder, and attempted assault) / Available on ao3 and ff.net / buy me a coffee / add to tag list

Chapter One

“You cannot be bloody serious.” Killian’s eyes jumped from the order in his hands to his brother’s face. “They’re sending her here?”

“This is the only prison within Misthaven County,” Liam reminded him, seemingly unperturbed by the proclamation that a woman, who had just been found guilty of manslaughter and sentenced to serve five years for the crime against her husband, would be housed within the stone walls he was charged with overseeing as warden.

Killian shook his head and tossed the missive onto the imposing mahogany desk in front of him. “This is madness,” he said, running a hand through his hair while trying to grapple with the logistical nightmare the magistrate had set upon them. “Her presence will cause chaos among the other prisoners, to say nothing of how she will affect the guards.”

“I see no reason why her incarceration here should cause such disastrous waves of which you seem concerned.”

Killian stared slack jawed at his brother, who had resumed his seat and began scratching quill to parchment. “Brother,” Killian began with an incredulous tone once he again found his voice, “We are not equipped to see to the needs of a woman here, especially one who is with child.”

“We will see to her needs as we do the men under our supervision. However,” Liam held up his hand to stay his brother’s protest, “I recognize that a few concessions will be necessary in order to ensure her safety and well-being whilst she is here.” Setting the ink he had just finished applying to the page, Liam stood and handed the paper to Killian. “As Captain of the Guard, I entrust these added measures into your authority. See to it the other guards are aware of my instructions and that they are upheld.”

Killian grit his teeth, but held his tongue. He knew a dismissal when it was issued, and though Liam was his older brother, he was also the prison warden and Killian’s superior. Positions Killian respected, even if he did think his brother was being purposefully obtuse about the reality of the circumstance about to befall them.

Upon exiting his brother’s office and returning to his own, Killian settled himself in his desk chair and read over the principles by which Liam would have them all handle the presence of Mrs. Cassidy. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Killian released a long sigh before glancing out the window that looked across the open corridor to the upper level cells that stood adjacent to the officers’ wing. From where he sat, Killian had a clear view around the corner to the secluded stretch where lay the cell Liam had determined would house the infamous ax-murderess.

The story had been front page news for months. Scandalous details of a married woman of low birth and limited means murdering her husband; hatcheting him to death in order to save her own life and that of her unborn child - or so she claimed. No evidence to support her allegations of abuse had been presented during the trial when neighbors and members of the man’s family had come forward with their testimonies of character, painting the victim in portraits of virtue while his wife was further vilified. In the end, it was the fact that Mrs. Cassidy was with child that had saved her from a verdict of murder in the first degree, a judgment that carried the death penalty for men and women alike. As an act of mercy, a lesser charge was issued, one that spared her life but now made her Killian's problem to contend with.

And she would most certainly be a problem.

Keeping order within the prison was a challenge on the best of days. They were woefully underfunded and understaffed. Though not as deplorable in condition as other prisons Killian had seen, Misthaven Penitentiary had always relied on the charity of the local convent to see them through hard times. With its closing earlier in the year, and the nuns dispersed to other parishes, Killian was not sure how they would fare in the upcoming winter. To say nothing of how they’d fare having an inmate of the fairer sex within their midst.

A scoff of scorn erupted from the back of Killian’s throat when he read back over his brother’s edict. No man shall enter Mrs. Cassidy’s cell for any reason, lest it be a matter of life or death. Liam was a damn fool if he thought such a decree would dissuade some of the more… unsavory members of their guard from the temptation the woman would present, and it would be left to Killian to maintain order and discipline, not just from the sentenced population, but from his own men. A task he was not relishing in the slightest. Nor was he overjoyed by his brother’s commands that essentially made him her own personal jailor, a notion which left him with a sour taste in his mouth and equally unpleasant sensation in his gut.

Checking the time on his pocket watch, Killian stood and made himself presentable for the shift change. Liam would be addressing the whole of their guard staff, informing them of the impending arrival of Mrs. Cassidy, as well as a dozen or so other new inmates to follow, which meant longer shifts would be required in order to make the necessary preparations. Killian’s hopes of spending some time along the coast while the autumn weather was still agreeable were well and truly snuffed out, much like the desk candle he extinguished before leaving his office.

~/~

“Mrs. Cassidy, I am Liam Jones, Warden here at Misthaven Penitentiary, and this is my Captain of the Guard, Killian Jones.”

His job just got a whole lot harder.

“You’d best hold your tongue, before I remove it,” Killian said in a hushed, menacing tone that matched the look he stared the man down with until the perpetrator backed away.

Once her leg irons were removed and handed off to Robin, Killian gestured her inside the cell and closed the door behind her with a loud, jarring clang, causing her to flinch once more.

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85 notes - Posted April 10, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #long post

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adrianmata26 · 3 months

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The Sachairi & Peaches Show - S2E10 - The Best in the West: How Sheriff Callie Keeps It Nice & Friendly

Saddle up... we're heading off to Nice & Friendly Corners! Adrian and Emma discuss about Sheriff Callie's Wild West and its twist on the Western genre to teach a lesson or two about getting along. Then, stay up After Midnight with rising and up-and-coming comedian Taylor Tomlinson, as Adrian gives his take on CBS's newest late night panel game show that airs after The Late Show with Stephen Colbert!

Question of the week: What lesson did you learn about friendship and getting along with one another did you learn at one point in your life? Reply now under this recap entry or reblog it with your answer, or if you listen via Spotify, through their Q&A feature!

Subscribe to RETROcirq now on YouTube for nostalgia and original segments from The R-Team! ⁠https://www.youtube.com/@RetroCirq

Join us on Discord to discuss about the media industry with fellow community members and professionals! Bring Your Team to Our Team at Broadcast Plaza. ⁠https://discord.gg/broadcastplaza⁠

Have an animated show or movie you’d like for us to review? Email us at ⁠[email protected]⁠ or reach out to us on the following social media handles to send your suggestion in!

Main theme and original music composed and produced by Adrian Mata. Additional music has been provided from slip.stream.⁠

Follow The Sachairi & Peaches Show: Instagram: @ sachairiandpeaches Threads: @ sachairiandpeaches

Follow Adrian Mata: DeviantArt: @ AdrianMata26 Instagram: @ adrianmata26 and @ sachlandhub Threads: @ adrianmata26 and @ sachlandhub YouTube: @ Sachland (Adrian Mata // Sachland)

Follow Emma Settles: DeviantArt: @ LocalPeaches Instagram: @ localpeacheswolf and @ localpeaches_studios YouTube: @ localpeachesstudios8124 (LocalPeaches Studios)

#The Sachairi & Peaches Show #SachairiAndPeaches #Sheriff Callie's Wild West #After Midnight #Taylor Tomlinson #Mandy Moore #Stephen Colbert #animation podcast #new podcast episode #Disney Junior #Disney #Spotify

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usagichanp · 4 years

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Here’s a little comic on what I imagine would be the conversation between the BF gang and our wonderful Professor Hidgens after the events of Black Friday (assuming they’re not all dead lmao)

Sorry it’s chibi and not fully coloured, but I wanted to make a short comic that didn’t take forever to make lol.

(Reblogs appreciated ^^)

#black friday #starkid #tgwdlm #professor hidgens #lex foster #Emma Perkins #Paul (tgwdlm)#the guy who didn't like musicals #team starkid #my shitty art #ok to reblog #yes Hidgen’s pose in the 2nd panel is based on the Ancient Aliens meme sue me #I was using ibixpaintx so I wanted to use to manga tones #ibispaintx #i love Paul’s face in the last panel. Confusion ™#starkidcomix

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samuel-de-champagne-problems · 3 years

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It's Delicate: Part II

Summary: Spencer Reid finds himself at a gas station at 2:00 am, thinking he’s only leaving with a cup of crappy coffee. But something taped to the door catches his eye. Spencer leaves the gas station with more than he intended: the chance at a friend, and maybe something more along the way.

Word Count: 3.6 k

Author’s Note: Here's the second part in It's Delicate, my first chapter fic. I've planned out kind of where I see this eventually going! Thank you to anyone who reads, likes, comments, and reblogs. It really means the world to me.

Content Warnings: Expletive language (3 uses), mentions of drug use, sexual innuendo

READ PART I

It's Delicate Masterlist

It's Delicate

Sitting on the plane, Spencer looks out from the little window. For hours, there’s been nothing but corn fields and clouds. It’s eerily peaceful, being there high above the clouds. His whole life Spencer has felt this distance between him and everyone else, but nothing makes that feeling more prominent than being strapped in a glorified metal box 35,000 feet off the Earth’s surface. But the thing is, Spencer does need to be flying above the trees to feel lonely. He can do that with two feet on the ground.

Luke sits across Spencer, the table between them and a deck of playing cards are spread out across its surface. He has to nudge Spencer’s leg from under the table, trying to bring him back to reality as he stares out the window.

“Whatcha thinking,” Luke asks, Spencer has been noticing more and more that Luke is one of the few people that actually listens to him.

Spencer, whose mind is racing too fast to even formulate an articulate thought, attempts to dodge Luke’s question with a noncommittal shrug.

“Reid, these cases are hard for all of us, you gotta know that man,” Luke says, laying down a four of a kind.

Spencer narrows his eyes, shocked that it hasn’t clicked yet for the rest of the team. He cracks his neck, preparing to answer Luke.

“We almost locked up an innocent man, Alvez. I almost sent another man to the same fate as myself. What kind of fucked up message is that?” Spencer says, throwing down the cards on the table. He doesn’t wait for Luke to respond.

“I fold,”

Spencer walks off into the small kitchenette to make a cup of coffee. He doesn’t want to think about his increased reliance on coffee, because he knows it’s a hot cup of coffee or a cold needle of Dilaudid in his veins. Spencer checks his watch, it’s 10:17 pm, maybe too late to find a meeting at a church or rec center somewhere.

He sneaks a peak at his phone, which was still unfortunately on Airplane Mode, he hasn’t even gotten a chance to see if Y/N has responded. He doesn’t know much about her, just as much as she knows about him.

It’s a brave new world for Spencer and he’s knee deep into the unknown.

Spencer can feel Luke’s eyes on him. He just knows that the minute he gets home, a certain tech expert will be ringing him. He knows that it’s Luke’s way of caring, but for someone who’s been alone for so long, having people that actually care is almost drowning.

Walking back to his seat, Spencer hands Luke a coffee. He smiles slightly; it’s the awkward smile that he used to make when intimating police chiefs and idiot cops would look him up and down like he’s a TA. It’s a peace offering for Luke, who despite his tough looking exterior, is one of the kindest people Spencer knows.

“Look, Reid. I’m sorry that we didn’t put it together. It’s just that man that we caught, he’s not like you. He’s not innocent of crimes, he’s just innocent of this crime,” Luke says in an attempt to make Spencer feel a little bit better.

“The thing is Luke, I’m exactly like that man,”

Spencer returns to staring out the window. The cards and the coffee on the table are long ignored for the silence that is found when you’re high above the clouds.

Spencer hears Tara and Emily murmur quietly about going out for a round of drinks. Luke accepts, while JJ and Matt decline, eager to get home to their families. Emily looks over at Spencer, her eyes silently scanning him, his body language. Spencer knows that there’s nothing he can hide from Emily, so there’s no use in trying to pretend he’s alright when she can take one look at him and know that nothing is right.

“You guys have fun, I’m going to head home and get some sleep. I plan on visiting my mom tomorrow and mornings are usually better for her,” Spencer says, slinging his go bag around his shoulders and making the trek back to the security to check out.

He walks slowly, enjoying the sound of the crickets chirping as he trudges along. Spencer tries not to think about the man, Richard, who was almost locked up for a crime that he didn’t commit. Spencer is pretty sure that being the person to throw an innocent man in jail is worse than being the innocent man in jail.

Spencer’s phone buzzes loudly, disturbing the silence of his walk. He looks at the phone to see a couple of messages from Y/N. Spencer slides open the lock to his phone and hits the button to read her messages.

Y/N: Spencer...that has a nice ring to it. So tell me a little bit about yourself. Your big three, but as books. Go! 🌞🌙⬆️

Furrowing his brow, Spencer reads the message over again. He does not have a clue what “big three” means, but it seems like some sort of pop culture thing that he’s not skilled in. He wants to text Garcia for a translation, but he’s also not too keen on telling her how he came across Y/N’s number.

Y/N: I assume you’re working, but I'm kind of impatient so I’ll give you mine 🙃 I’m a Little Women sun, an Emma moon, and an In Cold Blood rising.

Y/N: Oh no….I hope my astrology didn’t turn you off

Y/N: Not that I was trying to turn you on

Y/N: omg Y/N please shut the fuck up

Astrology? Spencer isn’t one to judge, but he’s a scientist first and foremost. The idea that there is something written about him in the stars seems like ludicrous. He decided to ignore the other messages, particularly the ones with a little more than slight innuendo.

Spencer: Y/N- I’m sorry I just got out of work. As for my big three, I’m not sure about astrology. I don’t particularly believe in pseudoscience. But those are good choices. In Cold Blood is an excellent choice. Capote spent years researching the case. In fact his prose and technique inspired the entire “Nonfiction novel” genre. The world of journalism and true crime would not be where it is without Capote’s work.

Y/N: Oh my god. You are a total nerd. 🙀

That stops Spencer right in his tracks. He’s only a couple of yards away from the Volvo at this point, but somehow it feels a million miles away. You are a total nerd. The words replay in his mind as the small gray bubbles pop up again. Spencer can feel his heart constrict at Y/N’s words. It’s ridiculous, he’s nearly 34 and is getting upset that a stranger called him a nerd. Spencer unlocks his car and tosses his go bag, phone included onto the passenger seat.

After a couple of minutes his phone buzzes again. He’s half tempted to answer it, but the way his heart seems to beat faster tells him to ignore it.

Y/N: I fucking love it and I think you’ll love this too

Spencer’s entire demeanor changes as he reads the message. He’s always had difficulties reading emotion in writing, especially when he can’t analyze the handwriting. Sometimes, it’s even harder to judge inflection during conversations. Maybe that is why Spencer has spent all this time studying people, studying the way that their minds work. Before he can get too lost in his thoughts, another message pops up.

Y/N: Meet Capote and Second Cat

Y/N: They are the loves of my life

Spencer: They are very...distinguished looking. Capote is an excellent name choice then. Second Cat is also quite catchy.

Spencer hesitates before sending the message, he notices that Y/N uses what Garcia calls “emojis” quite frequently. He assumes that it’s some sort of “texting lingo” that expresses emotion in small graphics. Great, he thinks. He already has a difficult time deciphering Y/N’s cryptic wording and now he’s got to analyze these emojis.

Maybe he should profile her. He re-reads the message and settles on a “😄” because he figures that he can’t go wrong with offering Y/N a smile.

Spencer: I don’t have a cat, but when I was a kid I always wanted one, they’re quite good companions for those that live several different kinds of lifestyles. From active to sedentary, they are adaptable and independent. Honestly they are the perfect pet.

Y/N: Is this your way of telling you’re a crazy cat man? 😜 🙀

Spencer, still sitting in his car that’s parked in the parking lot, chuckles at Y/N’s response to his message. Maybe it’s just easier to ignore his rambling when it’s done through 1s and 0s and there isn’t a face to the words.

Spencer: I’m actually more of a fish guy

Y/N: Like a “I-like-to-go-fishing-and-post-picture-of-myself-kissing-my-catch-on-Tinder” kind of fish guy or...I can’t think of any other kind of fish men

Spencer, not totally understanding the obvious joke that Y/N is trying to make, settles on something that he hasn’t really ever tried: being himself.

Spencer: Not quite sure what a Tinder is, but I think fishing is terrifying and kissing a fish is something out of nightmares. But his name is Leo

Y/N: DiCaprio?

Spencer: Uhh, Tolstoy

Y/N: Good😉 ⚔️🕊️ 🇷🇺

Spencer glances at his clock on the control panel, it tells him that he’s been messaging with Y/N back and forth for nearly 22 minutes. He nearly forgot how tired he was.

Spencer: Y/N- I’m so sorry but, I just got to my car to drive home from work. I’ll text you tomorrow morning about the book club, maybe we can figure out some things.

Y/N: OMG Spencer!! you should have told me. I’ve been talking ur ear off. sleep well and yes please tomorrow we can talk about the book club

Y/N: Good night, Book Buddy 😴

Spencer wants to respond to Y/N, but he doesn’t know what to say. She seems to text so easily, and judging by that, she must be around Spencer’s age or a little bit younger. Besides JJ and Penelope, Spencer has never had a friend close to his age. It’s a strange new territory for him and he’s walking in head first into No Man’s Land.

He starts his Volvo, the check engine still lights but, reminding him once again to go get it fixed. Driving away from the parking lot, Spencer hands over his ID to Gina, the security guard. She checks his ID and gives him a tired smile. Spencer, as he drives home to his apartment, thinking about what books he and Y/N will read together. He wonders what kind of books are her favorite, if they have any authors that they can obsess over together, or if what she thinks a poet’s prose is.

The summer air rushing in through the window is nowhere as warm and as comforting as thought of Spencer finally having a friend that isn’t able to read the scars of his past in the text bubbles that pop up on her screen.

When Spencer opens his eyes for the first time that morning, he isn’t sure where he is. Sometimes, before he can stop his thoughts from travelling there, Spencer thinks he’s still in jail. He hates the feeling of terror that rushes over him but he hates the idea of being vulnerable a little bit more. But the softness of his pillows and the coolness of his cotton sheets remind him that he’s not sleeping on a hard cot with only a layer of fabric over his body. The light streams in through the half closed blinds, and Spencer judges by how brightly the sun shines in, it must be around 9:45 am.

He supposes that he prefers the way the sun’s rays paint horizontal bars across his face more than the vertical bars that cast gray shadows over his cell at Milburn Penitentiary.

It’s a day off from work, so Spencer didn’t set an alarm, instead allowing his mind and his body to catch up on some much needed rest. The nightmares have been getting better, but his dreams are still haunted by the way that he hardly recognizes himself anymore. Deciding that it will be a day spent in pajamas, Spencer goes to his bookshelf in his bedroom to pick out a couple of novels to read while he drinks his morning coffee and defrosts some of Luke’s strawberry pastries.

Before heading out of his room, Spencer stops himself in the doorway. He replays the events of last night. He declined to go out with the rest of the team, while he walked to his car he thought about the crickets telling the temperature, and he read over Y/N’s messages.

Y/N.

He promised he’d text her back in the morning about their book club. Last night, she didn’t seem to mind Spencer’s long messages and awkward phrasing. He still doesn’t really know how this Book Buddy thing would work, but since he found Y/N’s number on the flyer, he can only assume that she knows what to do. He leaps on his bed, landing with thud on his belly, to grab his phone that charges on his nightstand.

Spencer settles at his kitchen table, a cup of steaming hot Dark Roast coffee in a Captain Spock mug in one hand and, surprisingly, his phone in the other. He scrolls through the messages from last night, Y/N’s cat and emojis tempt a smile to Spencer’s face.

Not entirely sure how to start the conversation again, Spencer looks around for inspiration until his eyes land on a certain fish tank in the corner of his apartment. He snaps a quick picture of Leo and attaches it to the message.

Spencer: Good Morning from Leo & Spencer

Spencer sets down his phone after a moment when he realizes that Y/N is probably not going to answer him back in a couple of seconds. He takes out a strawberry pastry from his freezer and puts it into the toaster oven on a non-stick baking sheet. His thumbs run across the texture of the book he started on the plane ride after his and Luke’s ill fated poker game. It's a thin book of collected essays on the meaning of life. Camus, to Spencer, is a little pessimistic with his droning on about the meaninglessness of life. Though Spence has seen the absolute worst that humanity has to offer, he still has to believe that there’s a deeper meaning behind it all.

His toaster oven rings, altering him so that his toasted strawberry pastry is cooked. He plates his breakfast and pours himself another cup of coffee- he’ll need it to get through Camus’s section on Absurdism this early in the morning. But the flash of Spencer’s phone screen sends him reaching for his phone. Y/N replied to his message.

Y/N: hi leo!!!

Y/N: and you too Spencer :) Did you get a good night’s sleep. You got back late it seems.

Spencer, taking a bite of the strawberry pastry, ignores the burning sensation in his mouth. He types out a response to Y/N as he washes down the bite with a swing of coffee.

Spencer: I did, thank you. Can you tell me a little bit more about this book buddy thing. From what I gathered from the flyer it’s like a little book club of our own and we meet at the bookstore?

It doesn’t take long for Y/N to respond. The little gray dots pop up almost immediately after Spencer’s message is delivered.

Y/N: That’s about right! Is it okay if I call you? Kinda easier to talk that way 🤷‍♀️

Spencer reads over the message a couple of times. He doesn’t really like to talk on the phone and only does it out of necessity. He’s pretty sure that his voice is grating and his vocal fry is quite irritating. Yet, he finds himself replying “yes” to Y/N. Soon enough, his phone buzzes in his hand and Spencer has to remind himself how to pick up a call.

“Spencer? Um, this is Spencer Reid, right?” the voice says. It’s a woman’s voice and he can only assume that it’s Y/N, considering it is her phone number calling him.

“Y/N, uh hi. This is Dr. Spencer- I mean this is Spencer,” he says, nearly forgetting that Y/N doesn’t know him as Dr. Reid, but as just Spencer. It’s been a long time since someone has known him as Spencer.

“Oh great! It’s wonderful to finally have a voice to your name. So about these buddy reads. You seem to have a good grasp of what they are,” Y/N’s voice trails off a little bit at the end and Spencer finds it natural to fill in the silence.

“Yes, the flyer was quite informative. But I was wondering, do we read the same books or do we read different books?” Spencer asks, trying to restrain himself from scaring Y/N off. But something about her made him think that she didn’t scare easily.

Y/N chuckles lightly in the speaker of her phone, “that’s a good question, uh, I was actually going to ask you what you would rather. We can read the same books, or if it’s okay with you we can choose what the other would read for that week,”

“Oh really?” Spencer says, very much aware how his voice rises a couple of octaves. He can’t trust himself to hold back on rambling over the phone Y/N, so he resorts to using his strained, brittle voice that’s full of hesitation and restraint.

“That’s the plan, so whatcha thinking, Spencer,” Y/N says playfully, like she can sense that phone conversations maybe not make him feel at ease. There’s something so natural and silvery about her voice; it reminds Spencer of an audiobook reader. While he’s not too keen on audiobooks, he’s sure that he’d listen to anything she reads or has to say.

“Um, I think it sounds interesting to pick out books for each other. I tend to gravitate towards more technical books or even books that aren’t in English so, uh, I think it would be interesting to get out of my comfort zone,” Spencer says, cringing internally at using the word “interesting” twice in a couple of sentences.

“Well, as long as you don’t pick out something in physics or anything by Ayn Rand then I’d say we’re good,” Y/N says. Spencer thinks it’s a joke, but he’s not too sure how to respond.

“Will you still be my Book Buddy if I read 1 out of 2 of those?” Spencer asks, hoping she’d get that he is trying to continue the joke.

“Oh no Spencer please don’t tell me you’re an Ayn Rand fanboy,” she says, and by the airy way she laughs, Spencer ventures to guess his joke landed successfully.

“So,” Spencer starts, he never has made plans with people outside of his team, and on top of that, there’s something about Y/N’s quickness that makes him a little nervous to meet her.

“I’m talking your ear off, aren’t I? Please Spencer, if you’re going to be my Book Buddy, you’re going to have to get used to me talking a lot, especially you pick out good books, which, I already have a feeling you’re going to be favorite Book Buddy,”

For once in his life, Spencer doesn’t really know how to respond. He lets out something in between a strangled laughter and a noncommittal chuckle.

��So,” Y/N says, mirroring Spencer’s earlier words, “so are you free tonight, I can meet you at the bookstore..”

Y/N’s voice trails off and Spencer leaps to finish her sentences. It doesn’t feel like his interjecting or interrupting, but like he’s snapping a puzzle piece together.

“Does 7 work?” “7 is great, Spencer. It’s a date,”

Those three little words send Spencer’s eyes flying wide open. He scrambles to come up with answer to louden the silence that falls, but he swears he can hear a string of quiet curses before Y/N manages to squeak out a small “goodbye,”

Y/N’s last words play back in Spencer’s ears. He scolds himself for being so weird and awkward that the very idea of going on a date with him would send Y/N in a tizzy. It’s not a date, because Spencer can’t think about it being a date. It’s not a date because of the looming photo above his mantle that freezes his future in the past. It’s not a date because of the nightmare of vertical bars that haunt his dreams

It’s not a date. It’s so not a date because Spencer would call Luke to come over to help him if it was.

“Hey Luke,” Spencer says, trying to control the nervous waves in his voice, “no man, I’m fine, it’s uh, easier if you just come over. I’m fine, really,”

Y/N: I really hope you're not an Ayn Rand fanboy 😉

It’s so not a date.

--THANK YOU FOR READING--

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myfearless-love · 3 years

Text

The Wildest Place You Run (6/?) - No Intention of Hurting You

As promised, second chapter this week is here! Hope you like it! Thank you for reading, reblogging, liking! Also huge thank you to my bet and artist, @thejollyroger-writer!! Check out the art she made for chapters 5 & 6!

Summary:

Vampires, Werewolves, Mages, and Elves. For centuries, they kept their existence a secret, but the constant rebellions against the strict laws of the Guild had led to a terrible tragedy. In an open clash, it became apparent to humans just what kind of monsters lived among them. Emma Swan loses the love of her life in the first battle of the war. A few months later, while still trying to process what happened, a mysterious and terrifying figure worms his way into her life. But the man is hiding far more terrible secrets than he reveals to her, pulling them both into a horrible situation...

Chapter: 6/? - No Intention of Hurting You

Fandom: Once Upon a Time

Rating: M

Relationships: Killian Jones/Emma Swan

Read on: FF.net or AO3

Words: ~4.4k

Previous parts:

Ch 1 II Ch 2 II Ch 3 II Ch 4 II Ch 5

It was as if the whole world were swaying around her and a giant vortex was about to swallow her. She felt the cold biting into her bones, its cruel teeth like needles on her skin. Then she saw huge cordons emerge from the utter darkness around her, a pale figure appearing before her eyes. His arms swelled with muscle, his eyes gleamed black, and his mouth twisted into a satisfied grin. Behind the cordon, there were burning, overturned vehicles...

“Swan! Bloody hell, what’s happening?”

Someone shook her shoulder violently, the darkness flickered, and she found herself back in the comfortable leather seat of the Porsche with the soothing orange glow of the instrument panel. “Just a vision. I’m sure it was one this time,” she murmured, massaging her aching temple.

“A vision?” Killian’s gaze wandered back and forth between her and the road. “Your eyes were closed, and you weren’t breathing. I thought it was a… seizure.”

“No, it wasn’t. But we have to turn back, the road’s closed. Or it will be in a few minutes.”

“I can’t.” He shook his head. “It’s the only way out of town. It would be too much of a detour, and we’re running out of time.”

“But it’s closed!” she repeated desperately, the image of the man and the cordon still flashing before her eyes.

“And you think that’s going to stop me?” He raised an eyebrow, and she already knew the answer to his question: no, of course not.

After half a minute, the barriers appeared in the street, as did the uniformed policeman loitering before them. She was sure he was the figure she had just seen in her vision. With a half-smile on his face, he let his hand slide loosely into his pocket and walked toward the slowing Porsche.

“Good afternoon! As you can see, the road is closed. There has been a minor accident. You can get around to Vermilion Boulevard—”

“I’m afraid we don’t have time for that. Can we just…”

She blanked out Killian’s voice and instead stared at the cop in fascination. He looked so familiar, but she just couldn’t figure out where from.

Then the officer pointed to the back of the car, leaned lightly against the door with one hand, and turned his face away. The left half of his cheek was marred by a couple of circular scars.

And then it became crystal clear.

He was the vampire who had wounded Neal with the dagger.

After a moment’s thought, she reached for her gun. She would never have a better opportunity than this to settle at least a small score from that night. But the creature noticed her movement and immediately jumped on top of the car. She suspected he wasn’t in the mood to get a few more cuts on his face.

Killian didn’t hesitate for long either, he immediately stepped on the gas.

“Killian, the barriers!” she yelled, holding her arms in front of her face (as if that would protect her from a possible collision).

She heard the Vampire roll off from the roof of the car and hit the ground behind them with a thud, then she waited for the impact.

But nothing happened, only the soothing purr of the engine could be heard. Half a minute later, she blinked her eyes open and looked anxiously at the windshield, but by then they were speeding through the suburbs, dodging the burning cars in the streets.

“What the…?”

“Did you seriously think I was going to wreck this car?” Killian laughed, amused by her baffled expression, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

He was making fun of her a lot lately, and she didn’t like that at all. “I hardly know you, you could be a total lunatic!” She objected, but to her surprise, he only laughed louder instead of being offended.

“How true, lass.” He left it at that, but still smiling.

It was strange to see that expression on his face. Cheerful. Open. Sincere.

“And it would be best for you if it stayed that way…” he added, and the smile didn’t fade from his face, instead morphing into bitterness.

“What do you mean?” She raised an eyebrow, but she was almost certain she had guessed what he meant.

He didn’t answer right away. He bit his lower lip, then gave her a quick sideways glance. “It doesn’t matter.” He shook his head and said nothing more.

Emma, on the other hand, scanned his face and his rigid eyes curiously.

An awkward silence descended upon them, and for long minutes, neither of them said anything. She couldn’t decide whether to force the issue or not. She wondered about Killian’s past and wanted to know what had happened to him.

“It does for me. I want to know you,” she replied softly, opting for honesty.

Killian shuddered and looked at her again. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.” He shook his head ruefully.

“Then tell me. Let me be the judge of that,” she insisted, surprising herself at how vehement her tone was.

August would surely be interested, too, and after a long, painful month, something — or someone — was finally making her curious.

Killian didn’t answer this time, just kept his gaze on the road and wrapped himself in silence again.

“Why are you interested?” he began after a few minutes.

“I don’t know. I just am,” she admitted and shrugged.

She wasn’t trying to snoop in his past because of August, though. She wanted to know more about him because of her own curiosity.

“You’re strange,” he said quietly, but there was no trace of mockery in his voice.

“So are you.” She left it at that, counting down the seconds for when he would finally give in. But it seemed she had been overconfident, and cracking the nutshell would be harder than she thought.

“Are we far?” she asked after a good quarter of an hour. She decided to table the subject for now. He obviously didn’t want to elaborate and it wasn’t like she had a choice in the matter. If he didn’t want to talk about himself, she wouldn’t force him.

“Not long now,” he replied, his face suddenly looking infinitely tormented. He blinked flatly and slowly tilted his head back, rolling his neck.

“Are you tired?”

“A bit,” he murmured wearily, but kept his eyes on the road.

“Um, do you mind if I turn on the radio?” she asked, a little concerned.

She couldn’t let him fall asleep behind the wheel. If she could drive, she would gladly offer to take the wheel over, but since she couldn’t, her only option was the loud booming music.

“I’d rather listen to my own music,” he said, gesturing towards the glove compartment.

Without a word, she plugged in the USB player after fishing it out.

At maximum volume, "Sin" by Pet Shop Boys began blaring. Killian seemed to have perked up a bit, and she contentedly drummed the rhythm on her jean-clad knees. She was shocked, too, but she was actually having fun with him, in the middle of a huge storm and a possible Elf attack, while listening to one of her favorite songs. An inexplicable serenity took hold of her, and she returned Killian’s smile.

“I never would have guessed you’d like this genre,” she exclaimed over the music.

Killian raised an eyebrow, but decided to let the remark slide. “I see you like it too.”

“Yeah! I’m always up for some retro music.”

She was eagerly searching the USB player’s library for more songs when the car skidded through a dent in the road. With a jerk, she snatched her head up, only then realizing they were driving on a forest road.

“Where exactly are we now?” She began to grow uneasy.

“Not far from Firefly Hill.”

To avoid a nasty hit on the head in case of another bump on the road, she leaned back in her seat. Soon her phone vibrated again and, of course, it was David. Again.

“Get me Killian!” was her only greeting.

“It’s David. He wants to talk to you.” She handed him the phone.

Killian stared at the device in surprise for a while, but then took it from her grasp. “We’re on our way,” he replied after some silence. “We just left Firefly Hill … Yes, I’ll take her right there… Sorry mate, you’re late. It’s too late.”

With that, Killian ended the call and handed the phone back to her. She took it with a slight daze and put it back in her pocket.

“Where’s David now?” she asked seriously.

“At your place,” came the curt reply.

“Didn’t you just say he was coming too?” The whole thing was getting weirder by the second, and she was beginning to feel uncomfortable.

“That was the plan, yes.”

“Killian, what the hell is going on?” She stopped trying to pretend to be calm. She was in full panic mode.

“Your brother will be a little late, but he will be there,” he tried to reassure her, but he failed.

Killian gradually slowed the car at the edge of the clearing but didn’t turn off the headlights, so Emma could clearly take out the wood-framed house in the thick of the trees, which was ready to collapse at any moment.

“Why are we stopping here?”

“We’re here.”

“Are you seriously saying that this dump is the Guild headquarters?” She was beginning to lose her patience.

August was right, something was off about Killian. Involuntarily, her fingers wandered to her gun, the alarm bells in her head refusing to fall silent. She knew something was up.

“Aye,” he replied as calmly as he could, but then he noticed her hands slipping to the gun, and she slowly pulled back from him as far as she could. “Bloody hell, Swan! I’m not going to hurt you.” His eyes widened in shock, but she wasn’t fooled by his almost professional demeanor.

If she thought about it, maybe he didn’t even have to put on a show. She’s sure he thought he could play her for a fool and she wouldn’t realize he was reporting back to their enemies.

“August said we couldn’t trust you! And there must’ve been a reason for my vision!” She pulled out the pistol and pressed it directly to Killian’s forehead.

“You’ve got this all wrong,” he snarled, and she detected a previously unknown emotion in his eyes. Fear.

“Get out of the car!” she demanded, and all that was running on a loop in her head was his conversation with David. That, and the promise she’d made to herself a couple of years ago that she still couldn’t stick to.

You can’t trust anyone unconditionally.

Then Killian’s voice echoed in her mind again.

“Sorry mate, you’re late. It’s too late.”

“Emma, don’t do this! Trust me!”

“Why should I? I don’t know you, you’re just a stranger to me, and you just said it was better if it stayed that way. If you don’t do as I say, I won’t leave things to chance.” Only her words were confident; she and her voice were not.

What if he really didn’t want to hurt her and she was just a scaredy-cat?

But then, what she feared the most did happen. A strange light flashed in Killian’s eyes and the gun simply flew out of her hand, right through the back window, shattering the glass. He grabbed her by the wrist and dragged her out of the car.

“I’m sorry, love, but if we keep this up, they’re going to sense our presence,” he informed her, grabbing hold of her other arm and walking her toward the house.

His hold was firm, but surprisingly gentle around her wrist.

“Let go of me, you jerk! What the hell are you doing?” she was terrified now, unable to think, and yanked convulsively on her arm to free herself from Killian’s iron grip.

“Mil... Swan!” he corrected himself immediately. “Please, calm down. I don’t want to hurt you, you have to understand that! The Guild is here, the trapdoor…”

“Tell me what you want from me! You’re not going to blackmail David with me! They’re not stupid enough to jeopardize the Guild because of me, so if that’s your plan, you might as well let me go!”

“Have you lost your bloody mind?” He, too, began to lose his patience. “I said I didn’t want to hurt you! The Elves hot on our heels, on the other hand, might not be in the same mood!” he proclaimed, but she still couldn’t believe him.

He was only trying to trick her, she was sure, as he had done so far. She cursed herself for falling for the guise of the sad, lonely guy. How could they always fool her?

She dug her heels and then simply threw herself to the ground, hoping to slip out of Killian’s hands, but he was prepared for that move. All she managed to achieve was to pull him with her, but his grip on her wrist didn’t loosen a whiff.

The next moment, he jumped up and yanked her up with one hand, her head jolting against his chest. She decided to do what was most logical and easy in this situation: she kicked him in the groin with her knee.

Finally, something he had not expected.

He let out a painful groan, curled up, and pressed his hand where her knee had been a moment ago. She didn’t hesitate for a moment and immediately ran toward the forest. She hated running, and would never understand those who did it for fun, but that mentality would have come in handy now. She threw herself into the trees, trying to watch out for fallen branches and protruding roots. She certainly didn’t want to fall on the muddy, leaf-covered ground.

The wind roared cruelly among the trees as well, she heard almost nothing but her own gasps and the whistling of the wind in her ear.

She was surprised at how far away she managed to flee, and she hoped Killian had given up and “entrusted” her to the care of the forest. Exhausted, she leaned against the trunk of an old tree, trying to quench her thirst for air. Slowly, she let herself slide to the ground, her legs trembling with fatigue. All she wanted was to catch her breath and rest a little.

She closed her eyes and tried to think soberly, rationalize everything she knew so far about Killian. He was a traitor, that’s why he was such a loner and standoffish. He was not the best actor, so he took on few roles, always standing in the corner and listening rather than speaking.

But why did they always find her? Was her naivety that obvious?

It seemed like it.

All her life, she had only trusted three people who didn’t betray her. Mary Margaret, David, and Neal. Everyone else, no matter how good she tried to be to them, had taken advantage of her, deceived and betrayed her.

A sudden noise broke her out of her musings.

To her left, a branch crackled, the rustling of leaves swept towards her by the gust. With the last of her strength, she sprang to her feet and, without turning, she started running again. Her crumbling knees warned her she wouldn’t get far, but she had to try.

She could barely jog twenty yards when a sharp pain erupted in her shoulder. She let out a yelp, and as a result of a powerful push, she landed on the hard, cold ground. The muscles and bones in her shoulder seemed to be on fire, it was unbearable and she couldn’t stop screaming.

She rolled onto her back and pressed her uninjured hand to her wounded shoulder, which was already wet with her blood. She gasped for air and found it difficult to focus on the gray, bluish-skinned Dark Elf towering in front of her. His long, white hair fluttered about his waist as he glared down at her, an evil smile stretching over his lips.

He approached her slowly and leaned over her. She wanted to get up and run away, but she couldn’t get her limbs to move. She whimpered weakly and began to regret running away from Killian. It was possible that she would have died faster and in a gentler way…

Death. Was there life after that? Could she meet Neal? She missed him very much.

Then, however, the Elf straightened and sniffed the air furiously. His face twisted into a grimace and simply turned his back on her. At that exact moment, he flew back through the air at least thirty yards, and the trunk of the tree he had collided with gave out with a weak crack.

She decided that if she still wanted to live to see the next sunrise, she had to act now. Despite the shrilling pain in her shoulder, she rolled onto her stomach, propped herself up on her palms, and tried to convince her legs to support her weight. Suddenly, however, she got help: an arm wrapped around her waist and another under her knees, and she was swept up by a tall figure.

The man pressed her body to his chest and started running. Hesitantly, she chanced a look up at her rescuer’s face, but as soon as she met Killian’s gaze, the relief she had felt a moment ago instantly evaporated. She wanted to scream at him, to hit him, to protest, but she had zero strength left. She had no choice but to beg. Maybe it would work. Or maybe it wouldn’t even move him at all.

“Killian, no... Please, don’t.”

“Shh, Emma, calm down.” He pressed her body harder against him as she began to squirm. She almost managed to wiggle out of his arms and if it wasn’t for his fast reflexes, she would’ve slumped to the ground. He steadied her and, with a concerned flash in her eyes, he brushed an errant lock of her hair from her eyes. The gesture was so gentle that she all but forgot to twist out of his hold — and then something caught her eye.

She never had a close look at the tattoos on his left arm, but now a name stood out in contrast among the many designs.

Who the hell was Milah? Was that what he was going to call her earlier before he corrected himself?

But before she could ponder those questions any longer, the last drops of consciousness seeped out of her, her strength evaporating, her limbs going numb. The last thing she felt was Killian gathering her limp body into his arms. She greeted the sweet, empty blackness like an old acquaintance, almost relieved that they were meeting again.

-/-

“They’re coming! But... I don’t think Emma is doing so well.” Robin’s voice gradually entered her brain, and Emma found it hard to fully comprehend the words. She was still numb, every part of her feeling like lead.

“What? What’s happened? Jones! What the—”

“I can explain, but first—”

Killian’s voice was cut off by David’s outburst. “What did you do to her? You’re going to regret this! Didn’t I tell you to take care of her?”

“David, we don’t have time for this now!” Mary Margaret admonished him, her voice sounding used, slightly hoarse. “Killian, come with me.”

Squeaking doors, hushed whispers, shuffling footsteps, rustling of clothes. Silence and darkness. Again.

She was recovering from a long, dreamless sleep in a completely unfamiliar room. Her shoulder woke her, a pain boring cruelly through her flesh. The throbbing brought tears to her eyes in an instant.

She wiped her eyes with her hand, then looked around the room as best she could. It was very modest, the wide double bed she was lying on almost completely filling the room. There was no window, the only source of light coming from the simple chandelier that hung from the ceiling. The walls were covered in navy blue wallpaper that immediately sent a cold shiver down her spine. The bedding was also a light cerulean shade, but it was a visibly expensive piece.

Her throat was dry and sore, and in the back of her head sat an ache that threatened to grow into a severe migraine, a sure sign that dehydration wasn’t far off. She would have given half her life for a glass of water. Emma decided to ignore her discomfort until she managed to roll her body into a sitting position and set her lead-heavy legs on the floor, standing up a little wobbly and feeling like jello. She managed quite well as she headed for the door, but needless to say, she didn’t even know her vocabulary for swear words was that enormous.

She was already halfway across the room when someone hesitantly opened the door. At first, the person only dared to poke their head in the little nook. Emma, on the other hand, instinctively took two steps back.

Killian quickly entered the room and quietly closed the door behind him. He raised both hands up in surrender and studied her face as if she were a ticking time bomb.

“Swan, I still have no intention of hurting you,” he remarked softly, and she nodded slowly, swallowing hard.

The events of the last few hours were only now beginning to become real. Not only had she made a spectacular fool of herself — which she often managed to do — but this time it had almost cost her life.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured quietly.

She felt her cheeks turn warm, so she angled her body away from Killian’s searching gaze. But the tiny room began to spin in a strange dance before her eyes.

“You should rest some more, love,” he noted softly.

“I’m thirsty. I’ll get something to drink first.” She made her way towards the exit again, but her legs didn’t seem ready to cooperate for such a long journey. She was dizzy as hell, and if Killian’s reflexes weren’t so unbeatable, she would have acquired a new gash on her head.

“I’ll fetch you some water.”

He hooked an arm around her waist and practically carried her back to the bed. He gently pressed her back onto the pillow, and then hurried out of the room.

She barely had time to close her eyes when he returned with a glass of cold water in his hand.

“Thanks.” She took the drink from his hold with a grateful look and began taking generous sips of the refreshing beverage. It felt incredible in her nearly parched throat, but she couldn’t enjoy it for long before Killian snatched it from her fingers.

“Don’t be greedy now, Swan. Slow down.” He smiled, set the glass on the nightstand, then anxiously leaned over to her and slowly shook his head.

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry!”

They said it at the same time, but somehow the scene didn’t turn out to be comical at all.

“What you did was incredibly foolish,” he said in a half-hearted, scolding tone, setting himself on the edge of the bed.

“Um, yeah, seems to be a theme in my life,” she joked. “But really, I’m sorry. You just scared me and I thought…”

“I know quite well what you thought. When you held the Glock to my head, you made it perfectly clear.” His tone sounded somber as he turned his head away.

She was incredibly ashamed and it must have shown because she was almost sure her face was the color of a tomato.

“You were cryptic and kind of shady,” she muttered defensively, but even she heard how pathetic her excuses were.

“I know, but I didn’t have time to explain, I sensed the Elves were on our heels.”

She didn’t know what to say in response, she would have preferred to turn into an ostrich and bury her head in the sand, honestly. “I didn’t think it through. My brain wasn’t working and I panicked,” she whined in despair. “I’ve been a little paranoid lately.”

Killian’s face became inscrutable again, and the whole situation felt strange as he sat on the edge of the bed. His presence somehow reassured her, because she was quite sure now that he really wasn’t going to hurt her. And it was good that they could work everything out in a civilized manner. Most Hunters would have talked her ear off by now. To be honest, she would have deserved it. She was acting like an irresponsible lunatic. Speaking of which...

“Oh, and I’m also sorry for kicking you.”

To her surprise, Killian let out a soft laugh. “I’m not saying I enjoyed it, but I must congratulate you on that move. I wasn’t expecting that,” he replied lightly. “Though, you did give me quite a scare with the gun.”

“I didn’t think you could be scared of anything, and you’ve outdone yourself in that regard…”

“I’m not surprised…” he muttered, fidgeting with the edge of the cotton blanket.

Then her brother’s shouting broke the momentary silence.

“Why is he in there? I made it pretty clear he wasn’t to come near her!”

His outburst of anger didn’t even surprise her. Nice little family she’d gotten here. Paranoia, anger issues… there’s everything. The hinges of the door creaked frantically as David stormed into the tiny room. The door slammed against the wall and he marched furiously toward Killian, who got up from the bed faster than she could follow with her eyes.

Within two fleeting seconds, David’s fist met with Killian’s chin. He made no sound at the blow but stumbled and fell to all fours. Blood dripped from his skin, the surface of his jaw scraped by the force of the punch.

“David, it was an accident! It was all my fault! I screwed up, I was stupid and—”

“If he’d kept you safe, this wouldn’t have happened! You could’ve died! Like Leo!”

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