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jrob64 · 2 years

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One Thrill Ride Leads to Another - Chapter 1 (A Bold Move) A CS Modern AU story for @snowbellewells

Happy birthday eve @snowbellewells! You actually gave me the idea for this story yourself when we were at the Ark Encounter and you saw the man helping everyone board the bus pull his sunglasses down and look over the top of them. You mentioned that you could see Killian working at an amusement park and doing that and, well, I took the idea and ran with it! Of course I had to work Graham into it somehow, too and he’ll show up in the next chapter. I hope you have a very lovely and wonderful birthday, because you are lovely and wonderful yourself and you deserve it! I also hope you enjoy the story and the art!

Special thanks to @kmomof4 who helped me plot this story as we spent hours in the car driving to her house, provided me with specifics of Universal’s Islands of Adventure, CityWalk and Disney Springs, and also read over the story as I wrote it to make sure it sounded right.Thanks, as always, to my beta @hookedmom, who jumped onboard for yet another one of my stories!

Story summary: While working at Universal Islands of Adventure, Killian Jones meets Emma Swan, slips his name and number into her phone, and later sends her a text asking her out. His snap decision could lead to her blocking his number, or to an adventure much more thrilling than a ride on a roller coaster.

Rating: M (for smut in future chapters)

Words in Chapter 1 of (probably) 4: 5549

Also found on ffn and Ao3

*********

“The line is moving, Em,” Ruby Lucas pointed out to her friend, who was busy talking on the phone.

Emma Swan nodded, but didn’t interrupt her conversation as she took a few steps forward. Ruby elbowed her and pointed to the lockers where they were to put any belongings that could be lost while riding the Velocicoaster. At Emma’s questioning eyebrow raise, Ruby pointed to the speakers above their heads, which announced the purpose of the lockers on a loop.

“Of course we miss you, M’s,” Emma assured their friend, while slipping her small purse over her head, placing it and her sunglasses in the locker along with Ruby’s things. “But you wouldn’t have been able to go on most of the rides since you’re pregnant, so it wouldn’t be very much fun for you.”

Ruby closed the door of the locker and urged Emma forward again. They continued to shuffle through the maze of metal bars, until they finally approached the loading zone. “Tell her we’re getting on the coaster soon,” the brunette mouthed to her blonde friend.

Emma nodded briefly. “Okay, I’ve got to…” Her words came to a screeching halt as she looked up to see the amusement park worker in front of her. The man was the embodiment of sexiness, and her eyes slid down his form to take in his sky blue polo, snug jeans, and navy blue Vans. When she scanned back up to his face again, he was sliding his sunglasses down his nose and peering at her over the top of them with the bluest eyes she had ever seen. “...go,” she finally finished, not taking her eyes off of Mr. Gorgeous, while tapping her thumb against her phone screen, hoping she hit somewhere in the vicinity of the red button to end the call.

“You were supposed to leave your phone in the locker, lass,” he informed her, and fucking hell, he had an accent too.

“Oh, uh, s-sorry. I was, um…” Every word in the English language exited her brain at that moment, as she did her best deer-in-the-headlights imitation.

The man - his official Universal’s Islands of Adventure nametag declared his name to be Killian - smiled and held out his hand. Emma was halfway to placing her hand in his, before her brain cells reactivated and she realized he was asking for her cell phone. Blushing furiously, she placed it in his palm. “You’ll end up right back here, so I’ll hold onto it until you disembark,” he reassured her.

Emma mumbled, “Th-thank you,” and managed to give him a slight smile, then felt Ruby grab her arm, leading her into a stall to wait for the arrival of the coaster. She craned her neck to follow his movements, as he continued looking for other people who had inadvertently forgotten to secure loose items in the lockers.

“Did you see that guy?” she asked Ruby.

“You mean the hunk of hotness you were trying to undress with your eyes? Nah, I barely noticed him.”

Emma smacked her friend’s arm with the back of her hand. “I was NOT trying to undress him!” she hissed. “But I have to admit, he is pretty…”

“Yes, pretty is a good word for him,” Ruby interrupted, “along with about fifty other adjectives that all mean ‘sexy as hell’.”

Their conversation was cut short by the Velocicoaster arriving back into the station. Emma scanned the wide-eyed, windswept riders and crossed her arms. “I hope I live to regret letting you talk me into riding this thing.”

“C’mon, Em - it’s gonna be fun and exciting. All of these people survived, so odds are, we will too.”

Emma rolled her eyes, then followed her fearless friend into the car and sat down, lowering the lap bar as soon as she was settled. Workers moved along both sides of the coaster, making sure all of the bars were locked into place.

Glancing around the platform as she waited for the safety procedures to be completed, Emma caught a glimpse of Killian, who flashed her a brilliant smile and gave her a thumbs up, just before the roller coaster shot out of the station.

*********

Killian turned to watch the train take off along the tracks, the blonde ponytail of the woman seated in the third row flying out behind her. He glanced down at her phone in his right hand, his thumb in the middle of the screen keeping it from automatically locking. Working quickly, he tapped on her contacts icon and hit the plus sign. When the new contact screen came up, he typed in his first and last name, phone number, added ‘the Velocicoaster guy’ in the Company space, and hit ‘done’ before he could rethink it. Then he went into her settings to find her name and phone number, which he added to the contacts in his own phone. The whole procedure lasted less than the two minutes it took for the coaster to return.

As he slid his phone into one of his back pockets, he considered what he had just done. He knew it was an invasion of her privacy, but something about Emma Swan - which was a perfect name for such a beautiful woman - made him take that risk.

“Hey, Scarlet. Switch me spots,” he shouted to his co-worker, who was standing on the platform close to the tracks, ready to help the passengers disembark.

“Why?” Will Scarlet questioned.

Killian was standing next to him by this time. “Because I need to return a phone to one of the passengers.”

“Just tell me what she looks like and where she’s sitting and I’ll do it.”

To Killian’s relief, the rumble of the returning train reached their ears. “No time,” he stated.

“Ugh, fine. I’ll be the ‘loose items’ police for a while,” Will grumbled, pushing past his co-worker who took his place. Killian turned expectantly, smiling as he spotted Emma Swan - disheveled, flushed, and beautiful - and nervously rubbed his thumb over the screen of her phone.

*********

Emma spent the entirety of the ride trying to catch her breath, and she knew for a fact it wasn’t just because of the thrilling twists, turns, and loops of the Velocicoaster. The man who was currently holding onto her phone was literally breathtaking. When she closed her eyes before they traveled down a particularly high hill, she saw the image of piercing blue eyes and unruly dark hair imprinted on the back of her eyelids.

As they coasted into the station, she saw him standing on her side of the platform, his sunglasses back in place. The coaster jerked to a stop and she attempted to shove some strands of hair loosened by the ride behind her ears. Before she could even reach down to push her lap bar up, he was there, raising it for her.

“Thanks,” she gasped, breath knocked out of her all over again.

“Here you go,” he said, handing her phone to her.

“Thanks…again,” she said, wanting to facepalm over her inability to say more than two words in his presence.

He grinned, before moving on to the car behind her.

“Uh, Em? You have to get out of the roller coaster now,” Ruby called from where she already stood on the other side of the platform, breaking Emma out of her daze.

She crawled out of the car and brushed past her friend, who laughed when she heard Emma actually growl at her.

*********

Killian rethought his decision for the next twenty minutes, until it was time for his break. While he sat at a table in the break room, he pulled out his phone and called his best friend, David.

“Hey, man! What’s up?” David’s voice came through the phone, before Killian even had a chance to get it up to his ear.

“I think I did something stupid.”

“I wouldn’t doubt it, but what is it this time?”

“You see, there was this girl…”

“Ah, well, now I’m sure of it!” David snickered.

Choosing to ignore him since he only had a fifteen minute break, Killian went on. “She still had her phone with her when she got ready to board the roller coaster, so I had to hold it for her.” He paused briefly, taking a deep breath before continuing, “And I put my name and number in her contacts.”

“You did what, now?”

“Not only that, but I went into her settings and looked up her information and added it to my contacts.”

“What made you decide to engage in that breach of security?” David asked in a more serious tone.

“It was a spur of the moment decision. She was…you should have seen her, Dave. She looked like one of those Greek goddesses we had to study about in that ridiculous elective class we took our Sophomore year.”

“That doesn’t give you permission to encroach on her privacy, Killian!”

“I know, I know, but I’ve already done it. It seemed like a good idea at the time. Now I’m not so sure. What should I do? I know this is a long shot, but do you think it would be okay for me to ask her out?”

He heard his friend blow out a long sigh on the other end of the phone, then waited impatiently for several seconds. Finally, David began to speak slowly. “I suppose you could try. She can always block you, and if she does, you’ll know her feelings on the matter. If not, just play it as it comes.”

“Okay, thanks mate. I needed somebody else’s opinion on the matter, and I knew Will Scarlet wouldn’t be any help at all.”

“Yeah, I can definitely understand that!” David chuckled. He had heard many hilarious stories about Killian’s co-worker during the months his friend had worked at the theme park. “Good luck and let me know what happens.”

“I will. Thanks again, Dave.”

Killian sucked in a calming breath once he disconnected the call, then pulled up his contacts and hovered his finger over ‘Emma Swan’. After curling and uncurling it a couple of times, he tapped the screen at last and chose the message option.

It took him another couple of minutes to compose the text. Hello, Ms. Swan. This is Killian Jones, the person who held your phone at the Velocicoaster. If you don’t think this is too creepy, I’d really love to buy you dessert at the Chocolate Emporium on CityWalk. My shift is over at 8:00 and I can arrive by 8:45. I hope to see you there.

Closing his eyes, he said a quick prayer that she would accept, then opened them and punched the little blue arrow to send the message.

*********

After collecting their belongings from the locker, Emma and Ruby found two rides with short lines, then decided to get something to eat. Settling down at a picnic table with a large umbrella providing shade, they spread out their food and drinks and Emma pulled out her phone.

“Mary Margaret probably sent me some messages since I had to cut our call short. I really hate that she couldn’t…WHAT THE ACTUAL HELL?”

“Whassa matta?” Ruby asked, her mouth full of the bite of cheeseburger she had taken.

“There’s a text here from that Killian guy!”

Ruby quickly finished chewing and swallowed. “The sexy one from the roller coaster?” At Emma’s stunned nod, she continued, “What does it say?”

Emma flipped the phone around to allow her friend to read the screen. After scanning it, Ruby’s mischievous grin stretched across her face. “Oooh, girl! Dessert at the Chocolate Emporium? I’ve heard that place is fantastic! Play your cards right and afterwards you can work off some of the calories with him!”

“Ruby!”

“What? Have a piece of cake, then have a piece of ass. It’s a classic combination!”

Emma pulled a hand down over her face. “That’s not going to happen.”

“Why not? We’re on vacation, Em. Squeeze every possible ounce of enjoyment out of it!”

“He put his contact info into my phone and found out my name and number. Don’t you think that’s a little weird?”

“So? The guy took a chance. What’s wrong with that?”

“I’ll bet he does that all the time. He probably hooks up with a different girl every day.”

“And your point is…?”

“I am not gonna be another notch in his bedpost.”

“Okay, so don’t sleep with him, but at least meet him for dessert.”

“By myself? No way! He could be a serial killer for all I know.”

“You’ll be in a public place! You’ll be completely safe.” Ruby thought for a moment. “What if I come along? Will that make it better?”

Emma chewed her lip thoughtfully, before rolling her eyes. “Why am I even considering this? It’s crazy!”

“Because the man is a walking billboard for male perfection, and you need to live a little. Take a risk. What will it hurt? If he’s a jerk, block his number, then go home in three days and forget about him. If he’s great, have a good time, then go home in three days and dream about him.”

“I don’t know, Rubes…”

Ruby’s hand shot out. “Give me the damn phone - I’ll send him a message myself!”

Emma yanked it out of her friend’s reach. “Fine, I’ll send one! Just give me a minute!”

“You have exactly three. If you haven’t sent one by then, I’m gonna do it.”

Emma’s brows knit together as her thumbs hovered over the screen. After contemplating for nearly thirty seconds while Ruby tapped her fingernails on the table, she finally began typing. She paused twice to gather her thoughts before completing the text. Raising her eyes to see her friend glaring at her, she heaved a sigh and sent it.

“Well, what did you say?”

“I told him I would meet him, but you will be coming with me.”

“Good enough. We’ll see how he responds to that.”

Emma turned her attention to her food, but found she was suddenly not very hungry anymore.

*********

Killian checked his phone every chance he got, his nerves jacking up a notch each time. It was nearly an hour before he saw a little red circle by his text message icon. Knowing the train was due back to the platform in less than twenty seconds, he opened the app to see that it was a message from Emma, but stuck it back in his pocket before reading it.

It seemed like the people disembarking and boarding were moving in slow motion, and he grit his teeth in frustration when one of the lap bars took longer than usual to lock. When the coaster was on its way at last, he grabbed the phone out of his pocket and read the text, sagging in relief at what he saw.

His fingers flew over the keyboard as he composed his response. I understand why you want your friend to come along, and it’s perfectly fine. I’ll see you at 8:45. Enjoy the rest of your day at the park!

He had a huge smile on his face for the remaining two hours of his shift.

*********

Emma wasn’t as stealthy as she thought. Or maybe Ruby just had a sixth sense for knowing when her friend was going to chicken out of the ‘date’ with Killian Jones. Every time she tried to take her phone out to sneak a text to him, Ruby wrangled it out of her hands and threatened to stomp it to pieces on the concrete. She even forced Emma to hand it over before she went into the restroom, blocking the doorway and refusing to let her pass until she did. The mother trying to enter with her toddler was not amused.

She wasn’t sure what possessed her to accept his offer. Now nervous, she dragged her feet like a petulant child as they left the park.

“Emma Swan, I swear if you don’t start walking faster, I’m going to come back there and kick your ass!” Ruby fumed, glaring at her from three full sidewalk squares ahead.

“It’s been a long day and I’m tired, Rubes. Can’t we just go back to the hotel and forget about this?” Emma whined.

Ruby stomped back to stand in front of her, arms crossed over her chest and a frown on her face. “No, we cannot. We’re going to meet this guy if I have to drag you kicking and screaming every inch of the way!”

“Why are you so insistent that I do this?”

Ruby dropped her arms and moved a step closer, her voice softening a bit. “Because you’ve been handed a golden opportunity to meet someone who could turn out to be a really nice guy, and I’m not gonna let you squander it. Ever since I’ve known you, you’ve been overly cautious when it comes to men, and look how it’s worked out for you. Maybe it’s time for you to start putting some notches in your bedpost.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “You know I’ll never be like that.”

Ruby shrugged. “Alright, so not multiple notches, but one is better than none.”

Emma widened her stance and put her hands on her hips. “No notches, Ruby. I’ll meet this guy and have some dessert, but that’s as far as it’s going to go. I don’t want you saying anything to give him the idea that it’s gonna be more than that, got it?”

Ruby grinned at her.

“I mean it, Rubes. Promise me you’ll behave or I’m not going.”

“You’re no fun at all, Em.”

“Exactly, and that’s how it’s going to stay. Unfun Emma. Now promise me.”

Ruby threw her head back and sighed theatrically. “Ugh! Fine! I promise I won’t say anything to give this guy the wrong idea about you. Happy?”

“Not especially, but I’ll take what I can get.”

Glancing at the time on her phone, Ruby stated, “We’ve got less than ten minutes. Now, put a smile on your face and pick up the pace.” She pocketed her phone and looped her arm through Emma’s.

“You know I hate it when you rhyme,” Emma mumbled, garnering a laugh from her friend.

*********

Killian walked quickly along the sidewalk leading to the Toothsome Chocolate Emporium, took a deep breath and scanned the crowded area in front of the popular restaurant. He almost wilted with relief at seeing Emma Swan near the hostess stand on the front steps, wringing her hands nervously, while her dark-haired friend stood beside her with a huge smile on her face.

He took the steps two at a time to reach them, weaving his way through the other people who were waiting. “Hello ladies,” he greeted, showing his own nerves by rubbing a finger behind his left ear.

“You changed shirts” Emma blurted, mentally kicking herself for making such a lame opening statement.

He dropped his eyes, glancing down at his midnight blue polo as he explained, “Yeah, uh, I had an extra one in my locker and since I worked in the other one all day, I thought, um…”

“Hi, I’m Emma’s friend, Ruby Lucas,” the brunette said, stepping forward boldly to interrupt his stammering.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Ms. Lucas,” Killian said, offering his hand.

She reached out to shake it, while admonishing, “Oh, please. Call me Ruby and call her Emma.”

“Noted. I, uh, I made reservations for us, so we should be able to go right in.”

“That was a good idea. They told all these people they’ll have to wait at least an hour,” Emma said.

“It’s a perk of being an employee of the park,” he explained with a smile, then went to check in with the hostess. As soon as she collected three menus and told them to follow her, Killian gestured for Emma and Ruby to proceed ahead of him into the restaurant.

“Such a gentleman,” Ruby whispered as she walked beside her friend.

Emma didn’t acknowledge the statement, keeping her eyes straight ahead. When they reached the booth, she slid in first, Ruby sat beside her and Killian dropped down into the high-backed seat across from them.

Before they had a chance to open the menus the hostess left on the table, Killian cleared his throat. “I…I wanted to apologize for taking the liberty of putting my name and number into your phone, and for using it to find out your information. I’ve never done anything like that before…”

Emma’s eyes shot up, the skepticism easily apparent in them. “Really?”

Killian felt heat creeping up his neck into his face, but didn’t break eye contact with her, willing her to see the honesty in his gaze. “I assure you this is the very first time, Emma. I don’t know what came over me, but I just…I felt like we had a…a moment, and I didn’t want to take the chance of never seeing you again.”

Ruby watched her friend carefully. Emma had a penchant for knowing when someone wasn’t being truthful, which Ruby had found out the hard way numerous times. The fact that Emma hadn’t immediately wanted to leave must have meant she hadn’t detected a lie in anything he’d said so far.

“A moment?” Emma questioned. “We only said about five words to each other. How does that constitute a moment?”

His finger went to work behind his ear again. “I don’t know how to explain it, but it…I…”

“I thought there was a moment, too,” Ruby jumped in, earning a glare from her friend. “Boy meets girl, boy thinks girl is beautiful, girl thinks boy is…”

“Ruby!” Emma growled, digging an elbow into her ribs.

Killian gave a low chuckle and started to speak again, when the waiter arrived to take their drink order, which reminded them that they needed to actually look at the menu. After ordering ice water all around, they flipped to the dessert page and studied it in silence for several moments.

“Have you eaten here before, Killian?” Ruby asked.

“A couple of times with some co-workers. There’s a dessert called Chocolate Brownie Bark that I’ve always wanted to try, but haven’t because I heard it’s huge. I could never eat it all by myself.”

Emma scanned the menu to find it, her eyes growing wider by the second as she read the description. “Are you kidding me? Listen to this: chocolate ice cream, chocolate brownies, chocolate whipped topping, chocolate sauce, chocolate brownie bark and chocolate sprinkles. That’s enough to put somebody into a sugar coma for a month!”

“Sounds perfect!” Ruby spouted. “We can all share it!”

“What do you say, Swan?” Killian asked, turning his eyes to her.

Her brows climbed up her forehead. “Swan?” she questioned.

The tips of his ears turned a deeper shade of red than the streaks in Ruby’s hair. “Sorry. I, um, it’s just such a fitting name for you and…”

“Why do you say that?” Emma asked.

“Well, you know, swans are beautiful and graceful and…”

“And fierce as hell,” Ruby threw in. “He’s right, Em. It describes you perfectly.”

Emma sat looking between the two of them, her mouth slightly open.

Killian cleared his throat. “Anyway, I didn’t mean to offend you, Emma.”

“You…you didn’t. I, um, I really don’t mind at all. The way you say it sounds nice. ”

“She’s right,” Ruby agreed. “What kind of accent is that?”

“Irish,” Emma and Killian answered at the same time.

“That’s quite impressive, Swan,” he praised. “Most people tend to think it’s a British accent.”

“I studied abroad for a semester and traveled to England and Ireland, so I got pretty good at recognizing the differences between the two accents,” she explained, a small smile of pride turning up the corners of her lips. Killian returned it with one of his own.

Ruby looked back and forth at the two of them and bit down on her bottom lip to keep from blurting out how well suited they were for one another. There definitely seemed to be a spark between them, and he appeared to be a genuinely nice guy. She just hoped Emma would be willing to give him a chance to prove it.

Their drinks arrived and the waiter took their order for the Chocolate Brownie Bark. Ruby sipped her water as she watched the conversation continue between the other two.

“Are you still in college?” Killian asked.

“No, I graduated last year.”

“Where did you go to school?”

“The University of Maine. Go Black Bears!”

He laughed. “What was your area of study?”

“Journalism. I write for a couple of different college sports websites.”

“That sounds interesting. Do you specialize in any particular sport?”

“Not really, but I probably like writing about volleyball and baseball the most. What about you? How long have you worked for Universal?”

“I worked here during the summer between my Freshman and Sophomore years, but had internships the past two summers. After I graduated this past spring, a friend of mine had three months left on his lease and he was moving to Colorado, so I came back here to work to finish it out for him. I’ll start going to grad school to earn my master’s in the fall.”

“What did you get your degree in? And where?”

“Marine Engineering at Florida Tech.”

“Is that like designing ships?”

“That’s one aspect of it.”

“That sounds interesting.”

“I’ve always been intrigued by ships and sailing, ever since I was a lad.”

“Did you come to America to go to college?”

“We moved here to live with my uncle when I was twelve, after our mum passed and our father left us.”

“You have siblings?”

“One brother - Liam. He works with my uncle at the docks in Boston Harbor.”

The two women exchanged surprised looks, but when Ruby started to say something, Emma shook her head slightly, giving her a meaningful look. Ruby snapped her mouth shut and reached for her glass of water instead.

Emma was enjoying chatting with Killian and was beginning to relax, but she wasn’t comfortable enough to reveal where she lived at this point.

“You still have a pretty strong accent after living here all this time,” she commented.

“It’s actually lessened a bit, but I’ve yet to shake it completely.”

“Don’t,” Ruby said simply.

Emma nodded her head in agreement, but before she could add to Ruby’s remark, their dessert arrived.

“Wow! That is massive!” Killian said.

“What are you two going to eat?” Ruby asked, plunging her spoon into a heap of chocolate whipped topping.

“You’ll have to excuse Ruby,” Emma said dryly. “She’s very shy.”

Killian laughed and Emma felt her stomach do a funny little flip, which she knew wasn’t due to the small mountain of chocolate in front of her. The man was affecting her in ways she didn’t really want to admit to herself.

“Ohmigod,” Ruby mumbled, her eyes rolling in pleasure over the gooey goodness in her mouth.

Emma and Killian watched her nearly obscene expressions of delight for a few more seconds, then looked at each other. “Shall we?” he asked, one eyebrow quirked up in question.

“We better, before she eats the whole thing,” Emma answered. Both of them stuck their spoons into the decadent dessert, then let out soft moans when the chocolate hit their tongues.

“I know, right?” Ruby grinned. “I would say it’s better than sex, but let’s be real!”

“Jeez, Ruby!” Emma exclaimed, using her free hand to cover her face in embarrassment, while Killian chuckled.

They continued devouring the confection in front of them, making comments now and then, but mostly just enjoying the deliciousness.

After Emma took a bite of a brownie dripping with chocolate sauce, Killian noticed a bit had landed on her chin and reached over to remove it with his finger. As soon as he touched her, she gasped, her mouth falling open slightly.

He didn’t seem to notice her reaction as he drew his finger back and licked the sauce off of it, but Ruby did. She eyed her friend keenly, taking in the flush on her face and the look of astonishment in her eyes, and smirked knowingly. She knew Emma better than just about anyone else did, and she had never seen her react to a guy like she was doing tonight.

When the dessert was gone, the trio chatted while waiting for the check.

“Did the two of you go to college together?” Killian asked.

“Yeah, we met our Freshman year at the Student Union when this one was having a meltdown,” Ruby answered, pointing at Emma.

“I wasn’t having a meltdown, I was just upset about my roommate.”

“Her original roommate was an absolute nightmare,” Ruby explained. “She was such a prima donna and an all-around bitch of the highest degree. After Emma survived the first semester with her, M’s and I squeezed her into our room without the university being any the wiser. We ended up living together until we graduated.”

“M’s would have been with us on this trip, but she found out about a month ago that she’s pregnant,” Emma added. “She knew she wouldn’t be able to go on any rides, so she decided not to come.”

“I doubt she and her boyfriend would be able to last a week without each other anyway. Those two are as sickeningly sweet together as that dessert we just ate.”

“In a good way,” Emma threw in. “We love her boyfriend, too.”

“In a platonic way. Nothing kinky,” Ruby said, causing Emma to cover her face with both hands.

Killian laughed again, thoroughly enjoying the conversation. “Do you still live together?”

“Ruby and I do. M’s pretty much lives with her Prince Charming.”

The waiter brought the bill and Killian placed his credit card on the tray. “We can help pay,” Emma protested.

“Oh, no, I won’t allow that. I was the one who asked you to join me, so it’s my treat.”

After he signed the receipt and got his card back, they left the restaurant and stood on the sidewalk in front of it, not quite sure what to say or do.

“How much longer are you ladies on vacation?” Killian finally asked.

“Two more full days, then we fly home Thursday afternoon,” Emma responded.

Killian hummed and rubbed at the back of his neck. After several moments, he spoke haltingly, “It’s, um, it’s still early. Would you…be interested in going to one of the clubs on CityWalk?”

Emma exchanged a questioning look with Ruby, then turned her eyes back to him. “Do you mind if we discuss it first?”

“Absolutely not. I’ll just step over there,” he said, pointing to a lamp post several yards away. He walked over and leaned against it, fidgeting anxiously. He truly hoped they would take him up on his offer. He didn’t want the evening, and his time with Emma Swan, to come to an end just yet. She was as amazing as he thought she would be when he had his brief encounter with her that morning, and he longed to get to know her better.

Once he was out of earshot, Ruby said, “What’s to discuss, Em? You seem to be having a good time with him.”

“Yeah, but having dessert with him is one thing, going to a nightclub is something else entirely.”

“Why?”

“Because maybe his strategy is to get us drunk or slip drugs into our drinks…”

“Oh, come on, Emma! Do you really think this guy is capable of doing something like that? He’s a big ol’ sweetheart.”

“Or that’s what he wants us to think.”

“You don’t believe that and you know it.”

“Sometimes you’re too trusting, Rubes. Bad guys do exist and I don’t know if it’s worth the risk.”

“You pride yourself on being able to tell when someone is lying. Have you sensed any insincerity in him at all tonight?”

Emma hesitated. Her friend had a point. She was usually very perceptive about whether or not she could trust people, and her warning bells had remained silent when it came to Killian Jones. Still…

“I agreed to have dessert with him, that’s all. Going somewhere else afterwards wasn’t part of the plan.”

“What else do we have to do? I’d kinda like to take in some of the nightlife on CityWalk. Aren’t you even a little curious how he acts in a setting like that - if he continues to be a gentleman or turns into a jerk when he gets a couple of drinks into him?”

Emma studied her sandals, uncertain about what to do. Lifting her eyes, she swung them in Killian’s direction. He was pacing back and forth between two lamp posts with his hands jammed into the front pockets of his jeans. As he drew near the pole closest to her, he glanced up and caught her gaze. His face brightened and he flashed her a sincere smile, his dimples showing just above his neatly trimmed scruff and his blue eyes sparkling.

Turning back to face Ruby, she conceded, “Fine, let’s go to the nightclub with him, but on one condition. If I start to feel uncomfortable around him at all, we’re leaving, okay?”

Ruby grinned. “Deal!”

*********

Thank you for reading, liking, commenting and reblogging. Please join me in wishing Marta a very happy birthday tomorrow!

Tagging: @xsajx @hookedmom @kymbersmith-90 @kmomof4 @lassluna @pirateherokillian @teamhook @stahlop @elizabeethan @whimsicallyenchantedrose @resident-of-storybrooke @therooksshiningknight @jennjenn615 @lfh1226-linda @ilovemesomekillianjones @killianswannn @stories-enchanted @eleveneitherway @withheartfulloflove @kday426 @lyssapup27 @swanlovato @djlbg @kristi555 @laschatzi @xarandomdreamx @lkles08 @wyntereyez @bubblegum1425 @xhookswenchx @yasbio2015 @tiganasummertree @winterbaby89 @wefoundloveunderthelight @hollyethecurious @let-it-raines @jonesfandomfanatic @searchingwardrobes @dreamingdreamsalways @oncechicagolove @andiirivera @gingerchangeling @everything-person @klynn-stormz @qualitycoffeethings @vampcoffeegyrl23 @enchanted-swans @ohmakemeahercules @donteattheappleshook @bluewildcatfanatic @the-darkdragonfly @demisexualemmaswan @lavenderbudd @grimmswan @spartanguard @flslp87 @ultraluckycatnd @thisonesatellite @captainswan21 @zaharadessert @mariakov81 @snowbellewells @xouatxcs @kiwistreetswan @batana54 @nadine200179 @probalicious17 @courtorderedcake @julesep3026 @jackieorioncat @whatthehell102082 @jarienn972 @sthonour @linda8084 @pirateprincesslena @daxx04 @winterbythesea @artistic-writer @cocohook38 @captainswan4life85 @molly958 @kingofmyheart14 @badwolfreturns @itsfridaysomewhere@fallingforthecaptain @onceratheart18 @strangestarlighttree @omgmarvelousmorgan @justanother-unluckysoul @mrs-potato-but-likes-tomato @anothersworld @deckerstarblanche @purplehawkcaptain @superchocovian @k-leemac @citygirlscowboy @laughterandbooks @sotangledupinit @apiratewhopines @huntressandlioness1 @cosette141 @gingerpolyglot @motherkatereloyshipper @cs-rylie

#csff #one thrill ride leads to another #jrob64 #happy birthday Marta #cs fanfiction #captain swan fan fiction #fluff and eventual smut #modern cs au #amusement park worker #emma and ruby on vacation

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kmomof4 · 2 years

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HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MARTA!!!

So, today is the birthday of one of my very favorite people in this fandom, @snowbellewells!!!! And to celebrate, I finally got down a fic that’s been rattling around in my head for the better part of a year. I so hope you enjoy it, my friend!!! Thank you so much for all your love and support, but most of all, your friendship over the years! You mean so much to me and I hope this little offering conveys that to you!! Happiest of birthdays, love!!!

Thank you to @jrob64 for her beta help and second pair of eyes on the artwork and also to @hollyethecurious who has listened to me whine about this fic since the inspiration first hit me and encouraged me to write it in the first place. And then finally to @cosette141 for the idea of Angsty August and gave me the kick in the pants I needed to get this written. Love ya, ladies!!!

Fic Summary: Inspired by Burn the Ships by For King and Country, lyrics below. Bar wench Emma Swan has a chance encounter with Pirate Captain Killian Jones who changes her life forever.

Rating: M (Violence and Smut)

Words: 6640

Tags: AU, Golden Age of Piracy, References to Non Con, References to Prostitution, Smut, Violence, TW Physical Abuse, References to Physical Abuse, Major Character Death, Fiery and Well Deserved Death of a Majorly Horrible Person, That Would Be Neal Y’all...

On ao3

Tagging the usuals. Let me know if you’d like to be added or removed.

@hollyethecurious @winterbaby89 @snowbellewells @stahlop @resident-of-storybrooke @jennjenn615 @kingofmyheart14 @profdanglaisstuff @branlovestowrite @thisonesatellite @ultraluckycatnd @flslp87 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @let-it-raines @shireness-says @kymbersmith-90 @darkcolinodonorgasm @bethacaciakay @searchingwardrobes @ilovemesomekillianjones @teamhook @aprilqueen84 @qualitycoffeethings @superchocovian @artistic-writer @donteattheappleshook @doodlelolly0910 @seriouslyhooked @tiganasummertree @lfh1226-linda @xsajx @klynn-stormz @jrob64 @wefoundloveunderthelight @zaharadessert @elizabeethan @xhookswenchx @gingerpolyglot @allons-y-to-hogwarts-713 @sailtoafarawayland @justanother-unluckysoul @veryverynotgoodwrites @jonesfandomfanatic @deckerstarblanche @the-darkdragonfly @batana54 @purplehawkcaptain @k-leemac @motherkatereloyshipper @apiratewhopines @killiansqueenofthejollyroger @onceuponahookandswan @meat-pie-with-sauce @cosette141 @pirateprincessofpizza @xarandomdreamx @fleurdepetite @hookmecaptain @o-wild-west-wind

Inspired by Burn the Ships by For King and Country

How did we get here?

All castaway on a lonely shore

I can see in your eyes, dear

It's hard to take for a moment more

We've got to

Burn the ships, cut the ties

Send a flare into the night

Say a prayer, turn the tide

Dry your tears and wave goodbye

Step into a new day

We can rise up from the dust and walk away

We can dance upon our heartache, yeah

So light a match, leave the past, burn the ships

And don't you look back

Don't let it arrest you

This fear is fear of fallin' again

And if you need a refuge

I will be right here until the end

Oh, it's time to

Burn the ships, cut the ties

Send a flare into the night

Say a prayer, turn the tide

Dry your tears and wave goodbye

Step into a new day

We can rise up from the dust and walk away

We can dance upon our heartache, yeah

So light a match, leave the past, burn the ships

And don't you look back

So long to shame, walk through the sorrow

Out of the fire into tomorrow

So flush the pills, face the fear

Feel the wave disappear

We're comin' clear, we're born again

Our hopeful lungs can breathe again

Oh, we can breathe again

Step into a new day

We can rise up from the dust and walk away

We can dance upon our heartache, yeah

So light a match, leave the past, burn the ships

And step into a new day

We can rise up from the dust and walk away

We can dance upon our heartache, yeah

So light a match, leave the past, burn the ships

And don't you look back

Under the cut, unless Tumblr ate it.

Out of the Fire, Into Tomorrow

Emma Swan looked toward the door as it opened to admit a rather large group of men.

Pirates, she thought, suppressing a shudder and turning away from the newcomers.

She would avoid them as long as she could. But spying Neal behind the counter and registering the lustful gleam in his eye as his attention moved between them and her, she knew it wouldn’t be long. There were no patrons of the seaside tavern more laden with gold than pirates- or more specifically, pirate captains- and it was her job, as well as the other wenches employed at The Dark Hollow, to show them a good time and relieve them of said gold. And since she was Neal’s prized possession, he expected her to entertain the captain. He seemed to get off on the knowledge that he could parse her out to infamous and dangerous men every night, and still call her back to his side at a moment’s notice, letting everyone know who she really belonged to.

She turned toward Ruby and Mary Margaret and shared a brief look of commiseration, before turning her resigned gaze to Neal’s angry countenance. He jerked his head toward the group as they settled at several tables near the large hearth.

Inhaling deeply and loosening her corset just a bit, she made her way over to the pirates.

“What can I bring you, boys?”

The captain looked up at her, and Emma felt her breath catch. Pirates, as a general rule, were not handsome, nor were they clean or well groomed. This man, however, broke- actually shattered- every one of those rules.

Inky black hair, just the right side of grabbable, flopped over his brow. His eyes were the color of the ocean, and his sharp jawline was covered with scruff the same color as his hair, with hints of auburn reflecting in the firelight. He was broad shouldered and lean, and she could just see the defined muscles of his chest in between the deeply opened shirt, over which he wore a blood red waistcoat. A silver necklace with several charms hanging from it lay nestled in a thick thatch of chest hair. The man was literally breathtaking.

Shaking her head slightly, she realized he was apparently just as dumbstruck by her as she was by him. His mouth hung slightly open, and stunned appreciation mixed with equal parts desire swam in his eyes. Never breaking his gaze, he reached for her hand and brought it towards his luscious mouth.

“Captain Killian Jones, milady,” he murmured, brushing her knuckles with his lips. “Might I have the honor of knowing your name?”

“Emma Swan.”

“Lovely to meet you, Miss Emma.” He kissed her knuckles again before speaking. “A round of ale for my crew, and a bottle of your best rum for myself and…” he trailed away, waggling his eyebrows, the invitation clear in his eyes.

“I’d be delighted, Captain,” she replied in complete honesty.

She turned away from the captivating captain toward Neal. Her steps faltered slightly as she took in the stormy visage on his face. As soon as she reached him, Neal grabbed her by the arm and all but hauled her over the bar toward him. She bit her tongue to keep from crying out, but the tears still gathered in her eyes from the pain of his vice-like grip.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice the way you were looking at him,” he hissed in her ear. “Or the way he was looking at you.” He pulled back just enough to spear her with his gaze. “Just remember who you belong to. I’ll be expecting a hefty pay day when you return tonight.”

Emma didn’t answer him, but he released her and began to fill the round of tankards. He turned back to her, the anger in his eyes still clear. Her arm where he’d grabbed her throbbed as she picked up the full tray. She knew there’d be a colorful bruise there in the morning.

Approaching the pirates again, she took in the angry expression on the captain’s face and caught her breath. Where Neal’s gaze and anger were focused on her, the captain’s rage was directed at Neal. She knew he witnessed what Neal did and his apparent fury caused a feeling of safety that was wholly unfamiliar to settle around her shoulders. For all Neal’s talk of how much he loved her, how no one would care for her the way he did, just the few moments of interaction with Captain Killian Jones made it abundantly clear that everything Neal had been telling her for years was nothing more than a blatant falsehood.

A fierce longing rose in her chest. A longing to get away from here. A longing for freedom. A longing for… she didn’t know what exactly, but when she looked at him, she had a feeling she’d found it.

She set her burden down on one of the tables, Ruby and Mary Margaret right behind her, and started handing out the full tankards. She didn’t miss the smiles and brightened eyes between her friends and two of the more attractive pirates in the crew. It made her smile to herself as she turned toward the captain.

He stood and grasped her forearm gently, staying well away from where Neal had grabbed her. His eyes were filled with compassion and Emma’s heartbeat thundered in her chest in response.

“Are you alright, lass?” he asked.

She nodded. “I’ll be fine,” she assured him. “It’s no worse than what’s come before. Many times, in fact.”

Killian’s jaw clenched and his eyes flashed as he looked back at Neal. She held up the bottle of rum, catching his attention once again. He smiled, taking the bottle from her and grasped her hand in his own before leading her toward a more secluded table at the back of the tavern.

He sat down and drew her into his lap, then poured them both a drink. He was so gentle with her, she didn’t really know what to do with herself. Her experience with pirates was nothing short of brutal. One didn’t become a pirate captain by treating others, much less a bar wench, with gentleness. And her previous experiences only cemented that fact in her mind. In all the years she’d been “employed” here and all the men she’d “entertained” over those years, there had never been any thought or consideration for her comfort, her needs. Nothing but merciless violence against her body. The best she could hope for was a partner who was indifferent. At least then she wouldn’t be too bruised or even broken to move the next day. But the vast majority of the time, the patrons seemed to believe that the high price to engage her for the evening meant they could do literally anything they wanted to her, and they often did. Many times over the years, particularly cruel men had left her with broken fingers, a collarbone, and even ribs on one occasion.

But looking into Captain Killian Jones’ eyes now, she knew he was different from any other man she’d ever met.

She raised her glass to her lips and tipped it back, draining it in one swallow. The sweet burn down her throat made her hiss in pleasure before looking at him again.

“So tell me, Captain,” she purred, “What brings you to these parts? I don’t think I’ve seen you before.”

“That’s because you haven’t,” he affirmed, refilling their glasses. “If I’d ever met you before, you can be sure, I’d be back. Regularly.” His finger traced the apple of her cheek as she threw the drink back. The intensity in his gaze and tenderness in his touch set her heart aflutter, making it difficult to catch her breath. “At least until I could convince you to join me on board my ship.” He drained his glass and looked around at the seediness of the tavern, his teeth bared in disapproval. “To take you away from this.” He looked back into her eyes, the banked heat in his making a shiver work its way down her spine. “And to your question of what brings me here- opportunity. My fortunes in New England were rather dismal, so I thought we’d move south, see what I could find here to use to my, and my men’s, advantage.”

“I see,” she said. “And what have you found?”

His eyes darkened and his tongue darted out to lick his lips. Emma couldn’t breathe for a moment.

“I think my fortunes are looking up.” There was no doubt that he was talking about her. Fear gripped her. A fear of the unknown. A fear of the future. A fear of change. But curiously, not a fear of him. He moved toward her slowly, giving her ample time to pull away if she wished, before gently pressing his lips to hers. There was that word again- gentle. She’d never been treated with such gentleness and respect before. She gasped, her mouth opening for him. He immediately took advantage, but the gentleness was unchanged as his tongue met her own. The fear she’d felt before he kissed her melted away completely into trust and hope. Trust in him and hope for the future.

A low groan reached her ears as he pulled her closer to him, his hand tangling in her hair and cupping the back of her head as if she were a priceless treasure. Her arm still throbbed where Neal had grabbed her, but it didn’t stop her from wrapping her arms around him and holding on for all she was worth. His scent- notes of leather and the sea, along with something that was just inexplicably him- filled her nostrils, and another shiver worked its way down her spine as his other hand began to explore. The shadows were enough that she didn’t worry about anyone seeing what was going on between them in the corner, but as his lips left hers and trailed light, teasing kisses along her jaw and the slope of her neck, she knew they should adjourn to somewhere more private. Soon.

It almost killed her to do it, but she pulled away from him and stood. His pupils were blown with arousal and she could see the hard ridge of his cock through his leathers. Fingers still entwined, she tugged until he stood next to her. He grabbed the neck of the bottle with his other hand as she collected the two glasses in hers.

Not releasing his hand, she led him to the stairs that took them to the rooms above the tavern. As soon as the door shut behind them, Killian took the glasses from her and set them and the rum down on the small table by the door. He grabbed Emma and spun her into his arms, capturing her mouth with a passion she’d never known.

His fervent desire was tempered by a care and tenderness that had her blossoming under his touch. His tongue stroked hers, one hand resuming its place in her golden locks, the other stroking her exposed skin above her corset, lighting a fire within her that threatened to blaze out of control. His lips left hers again, trailing down her jaw, neck, and decolletage while his hands went to work on the laces of her corset. Emma’s head fell back as he lavished attention to the newly exposed skin, sucking her nipple into his mouth.

A shuddering exhale left her as his tongue circled the sensitive bud and his teeth gently bit down, bringing it to an almost painful point. He switched sides, his fingers attending to the neglected breast. The pleasure was almost too much, the coil in her belly tightening, tightening, and tightening even further. She knew what was happening, but it was something she’d never personally experienced before.

He moved them toward the bed on the other side of the room, his arms reaching behind her to loosen the skirt and petticoat she wore. His passion left her dizzy, but once they began moving, she went to work on his clothing- pushing the heavy leather duster from his shoulders before unsnapping the clasps from his waistcoat and finishing the buttons on his shirt underneath it all. Once his torso was bare to her, she buried her fingers in the hair on his chest, delighting in the softness she found there. She kissed her way down until she knelt before him, the laces of his leathers in front of her. She set to work with alacrity, Killian’s hands on her shoulders, gently caressing her skin. Tears, different from those earlier, filled her eyes. She’d never been the object of such unadulterated desire and tenderness before and it left her trembling with want and expectation.

She stood on the precipice of something, she knew not what, but every touch, every kiss, every sigh of pleasure only served to make her more certain that her life was about to change. Forever.

She pushed his leathers down his strong legs, his cock bobbing proudly in front of her. She looked up at his beautiful face through her lashes and licked her lips before darting her tongue out to the tip where a bead of precum gathered. Killian groaned as she went to work on him in earnest, sucking him between her lips.

“Gods, Emma! Yes, just like that, darling,” he moaned as she bobbed up and down on his length. She wasn’t nearly ready to release him when he tugged on her hair, pleading with her to stop. “I don’t want to come like this, love. Let me see you. Please,” he begged. She released him with a pop and stood before him on shaky legs, her skirt and everything underneath left on the floor.

“Gorgeous,” he breathed. “The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” He stood staring at her a few moments longer before reaching for her hand and drawing her again into his embrace. His lips captured hers as he turned them toward the bed. Moving backward, she sat down heavily when her legs met the edge. She moved toward the headboard and Killian followed her, his eyes glowing with something she didn’t dare try to define. He moved up her body, kissing, stroking, nipping, and licking his way up. When his eyes landed on the hand shaped bruise on her upper arm, she saw a flash of anger and then a softness and care that she’d never had directed toward her as he leaned over the discoloration and kissed it softly. “I’m so sorry he did this to you, love,” he breathed.

She didn’t have a chance to respond before he captured her lips again. The tenderness and affection he showered her with, using only his tongue, was so overwhelming, she was almost literally melting in his embrace. His fingers ran lightly down her sides until he cupped where she was hot, wet, and wanting. She was so aroused, his finger slipped in easily sending her spiraling, chasing her release that was now closer than ever.

“Yes, that’s it, love,” he whispered in her ear, “Take what you need.” The tension within her was beyond anything she’d ever experienced. Pure pleasure pushing her higher and higher and higher until she thought she’d spontaneously combust from the exquisite torture she wasn’t sure she ever wanted to end. His lips and teeth closed over her nipple and the coil snapped with a blinding, mind numbing, cascade of bliss completely enveloping her. She floated on a cloud of euphoria for some time afterward before she became aware of herself and her surroundings once again.

She could only open her eyes halfway, the lids so heavy in the aftermath of her pleasure. She was met with eyes as blue as the sea filled with a joy and satisfaction that was wholly unexpected.

“There you are, love,” he murmured. “Did you enjoy that?”

She felt a wet stickiness on her belly and her eyes snapped open and looked down to where his cock lay flaccid. Heat flooded her cheeks and she covered her face in shame.

“Oh, Gods,” she cried.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he rushed to reassure her, “None of that.” He took her hands in his own and drew them away from her face. “When you broke, darling, I couldn’t stop myself. You were breathtaking.”

“But I…”

“No ‘buts’, Emma,” he crooned, kissing the tip of her nose. “We have all night. I’m not letting you get away. Not tonight. Not ever.”

Her eyes widened at his declaration. After his earlier statement of joining him on his ship, was he truly saying what she thought he was saying?

He drew her close into the shelter of his embrace and she touched her forehead to his chest. She knew he was different moments after meeting him, but his tenderness downstairs and then gentle lovemaking and his lack of indignation at her failure to meet his needs simply confirmed what her heart was telling her- she’d never met anyone like him, and she belonged with him.

“What do you mean?”

A tender kiss was placed on her head before he spoke. “When I saw what he did to you downstairs, I felt rage like I had never known,” he confessed. “That he could treat you like that, like nothing more than a possession, was more than I could stand.” His arms tightened around her even as his eyes darted between her own. “Come with me, Emma,” he urged her. “I can get you away from him. I’ll take you far from here. I’ll protect you. You can step into a new day. Tomorrow can be a new day for us both. Together.”

“How can you say that? You don’t know me at all,” she exclaimed. “You might be sorry you made this offer in a week, a month, a year.” She paused a moment, searching his countenance for any hint of a lie. She found none. “How do I know you won’t leave me?” she whispered.

“I don’t have to know you well to know that you are an extraordinary and precious woman,” he assured her. “One who does not deserve to be treated like I saw you treated downstairs. And if you consent to come with me, you will never be mistreated again.” He paused, looking intently into her eyes and stroking her cheek with his finger. “You’re a bit of an open book, and I can see in your eyes, my dear, you��re close to breaking. Breaking underneath the yoke he has on you. You can cut those ties. You can feel the weight of them disappear.”

She wanted to believe him. She desperately wanted to trust him. But the fear Neal had instilled in her over the years wasn’t so easily vanquished.

“Neal took me in when I was fifteen, an orphan and a runaway,” she said, tears filling her eyes. “It wasn’t always like this. He wasn’t always like this. He didn’t make me start doing this until I’d been with him a few years. But either way, all these years I’ve been with him, he’s made sure I was fed and clothed, had a roof over my head. He says he loves me, that I’m necessary to him. He’s made me necessary, Killian. I don’t know if I can walk away from that.”

“Emma, necessary means something you can’t do without,” he explained. “From what I observed downstairs, that is not how you treat someone who is necessary to you.” His darkened blue gaze pierced her own before he spoke again. “To me, however,” he took her hands in his and kissed the pad of each of her fingers in turn, “you are very much necessary. I can’t do without you. Please, Emma. Come with me. I’ll be your refuge,” he promised. “You’ll never have to fear again.”

She looked into his beautiful blue eyes and saw more there than she’d ever seen in Neal’s eyes. Could she do it? Could she really leave Neal and this life behind? The look in Killian’s eyes bolstered her weakened resolve and she nodded slowly before drawing his face down to hers for another kiss, full of love and tenderness. The kiss quickly turned heated, as tongues tangled and hands began to roam. She was barely touching him and he was already at half mast. She giggled into his mouth as she stroked him to full hardness. He thrust into her hands, a low groan passing his lips.

Pushing on his shoulders until he lay flat on the bed, she rose above him and straddled his hips, grinding down on his length. His eyes rolled to the back of his head and his hands gripped her hips tightly. She wouldn’t mind sporting those bruises the next day. He lifted her off of him, the strength necessary for that action making her mouth dry in desire.

“I need to taste you, darling. Please,” he begged. Emma was shocked. Oral was not something she’d ever had performed on her, although it was a rare night she wasn’t expected to do it for her clients. She caught her breath and slowly positioned herself over his face. A gasp escaped her lips as he licked a long stripe through her sodden folds and she bent over until she hovered over his rigid cock, bobbing proudly against his stomach. She licked and laved at the tip before closing her mouth over it.

Emma shuddered as Killian continued to work her and she put forth all her skill at wrecking him as he had wrecked her earlier. Killian’s fingers plunged into her channel and his lips sucked hard on her clit, sending her flying. She released him and shuddered through her climax. She was too sated to move, but she refused to allow what happened last time to happen again. She dragged herself around and positioned him at her entrance. Their eyes met, a dazed clash of viridian green and cobalt blue, as she sank down upon him. A rapturous chorus of moans emerged from them both and combined into a melodious duet as they moved together in a dance from the dawn of creation.

“Killian, I think…” she gasped, “I’m gonna…” she inhaled sharply as she ground down on him, falling over that precipice once again.

“Yes, Emma, darling,” he praised. “Take me there with you.” His hips met hers one last time and she felt his throbbing release deep within her.

Emma collapsed against him, thoroughly exhausted and sated. She’d heard that sex could be as pleasureable for the woman as it was for the man, but she’d never experienced it herself. And to climax three times? She never would have believed it if she hadn’t lived it. He was stroking her back, drawing nonsensical pictures into the sweat that remained on her skin.

“So you’ll come with me?” he asked. She had a sudden thought and raised her eyes to his.

“Can Ruby and Mary Margaret come with us?” she asked. “They’re my family, and they seemed to be getting on well with two of your men.”

“We’ll have to see how all of this pans out, but I give you my word, if they want to come with us, they will.”

She moved up and captured his lips with her own in a kiss full of gratefulness.

“Thank you, Killian.” She laid her head back down on his bare chest and drifted off to sleep.

~*~*~

The next morning, Killian’s eyes opened just as dawn touched the horizon. He looked down to see the beautiful Emma Swan still sound asleep in his arms. A small smile touched his lips as he thought back to their time together overnight. They’d woken twice after they initially came together, enjoying the pleasures of the flesh until the wee hours of the morning. He was surprised he was still awake so early after all that, but once a sailor, always a sailor. He’d probably wake with the sun for as long as he lived, no matter what happened the night before.

He sighed. It’d certainly be nice to awaken Emma slowly, erotically, but after the night they’d shared, she definitely needed her rest. And Killian had plans to make and provisions to acquire.

She’d agreed to come away with him. As his thoughts turned to the bastard who purported to “own” Emma, a frown furrowed his brow and he further tightened his arms around her. What would he give to be able to publicly denounce the man and avenge his treatment of his love?

His love.

Yes, he truly did love her. The connection he’d felt with her since she entered his field of vision the night before was something he’d never experienced. And then holding her in his arms and loving her throughout the night only settled that same conviction deep in his heart. He would never regret asking her to come away with him, to give him a chance to show her what love, true love, really looked like.

He disentangled himself from the beauty at his side and smiled when she snuggled down further into the blankets that had covered them. He washed in the basin and then donned his scattered clothing before he found a paper and pen on the small writing desk on the other side of the room. He wrote Emma a brief note explaining his absence and promising her that he’d return for her this evening after seeing to his duties. Reaching into one of the many hidden pockets inside his duster, he withdrew a bag of gold that would hopefully appease the ire Emma would surely be subject to for remaining with one patron for the entire night. He made his way back over to the bed and gently stroked his knuckles along the skin of her face before leaning over and pressing a soft kiss to her brow. He could just hear her soft breaths as she exhaled and it gave him such a sense of peace and well-being that he was loath to leave her.

But leave her, for the moment, he must. He’d return to her as the sun set.

~*~*~

Killian hadn’t made it back to The Dark Hollow as soon as he would’ve liked, but the sun had barely set when his long strides brought him up the cobblestone street, ever closer to his love. His men had gone on ahead and were no doubt enjoying themselves inside by this time. As he approached the establishment however, he heard a low cry from the alley behind it that made his eyes widen and then narrow in surprise and suspicion. Rage poured into his veins. He stopped at the entrance of the alley, just out of sight of the people hidden in the shadows within.

Stealthily poking his head around the corner, Killian could see the proprietor of the tavern illuminated by the lantern outside the back door, and opposite him, Emma, with yet another visible bruise marring her lovely skin. This one was blooming on her cheekbone and it was all he could do to contain himself and not reveal himself just yet. Taking a deep breath, he attended to the words the man was speaking.

“If he thinks a bag of gold will curry my favor, he is sorely mistaken! No one spends the entire night with you but me.” Killian watched as the man’s arm swung back and the crack of his hand meeting bare skin filled his ears. He then wrapped a section of her long golden hair in his fist and dragged her to her knees before him. Killian could hear the tears in Emma’s voice as she cried out and it nearly undid him. “When he comes back,” Killian could hear the sneer in his voice, “if he comes back…” the man paused, and Killian revealed himself, stepping into the light of the lantern, his cutlass gleaming in front of him.

“Oh, I’m back,” he informed the man, a manic grin lifting his lips. “And you will never lay another finger on Emma again.”

And with those words, he lunged toward his adversary, the wickedly sharp blade piercing his flesh like a hot knife sliding through butter. The look on his face was nearly comical in its surprise, and if the bloodlust created by the man’s abuse of Emma wasn’t singing through Killian’s veins, he probably would have enjoyed it. As things were, however, his innate sense of justice stood in stoic approval of the man clutching his abdomen as his lifeblood poured out of the not yet mortal wound. He fell to his knees, releasing Emma’s hair as he fell. Killian moved toward her, never releasing the blade still buried in the man’s gut, and gathered her close. Withdrawing his sword, he stood with Emma by his side and looked down at the pathetic and dying man.

He turned to Emma and watched as a mask seemed to fall over her face and she reached for the lantern by the door. Realizing what she meant to do, he stayed her hand and took it down himself.

“No, Emma,” he said. “I can’t allow you to do this. No matter what he’s done to you, vengeance isn’t the answer. This isn’t you.” Her countenance fell and tears began to fall unchecked down her cheeks. His sword clattered to the ground and he wrapped her in his arms, her tears soaking his shirt in moments.

A desperate cry as full of venom and hate as could be summoned from the depths of the dying man’s soul sounded from the ground below them before Killian was suddenly pushed back toward the wall of the tavern. The force wasn’t hard enough- the gravely wounded man hadn’t the strength for more- to make Killian release Emma, but it was surprising enough for the lantern to drop from his hand and land on top of the other man’s head, shattering the glass and covering his face with the oil. The flames leapt, engulfing him in moments. His screams pierced the night around them and before they knew it, the flames had spread to the back wall of the tavern. Emma turned terrified eyes on Killian.

“Run, hurry,” he told her. “Warn them! Get them out! You only have a few minutes.” She nodded and ran out of the alley toward the front of the tavern to get those inside, who had no knowledge of the danger they were in, out.

“Get out! All of you!” Emma cried, crashing through the door. Eyes skittering around the large room, she saw the attention of her friends, all of Killian’s crew, as well as a few others fly to her. “The Dark Hollow is going up in flames! Get out, NOW!”

Noone questioned her instructions and they all began running for the door. Emma could just begin to smell the smoke from the back of the tavern, as far away from the front door as could be. She saw Ruby and Mary Margaret being pulled along by two members of Killian’s crew and she breathed a sigh of relief when they all got out the door.

They quickly moved away from the burning building toward the harbor, just a short walk away.

“Emma! Emma!”

She turned back toward the inferno to see Killian running towards her, his silhouette lit up against the flames in the night.

“Killian!” she cried, running toward him. He caught her and swung her around in his arms before setting her back on the cobblestone street and kissing her like it was the last time he ever would.

Their lips parting, Killian rested his forehead on hers. “You’re safe, you’re safe now,” he promised. “He’s gone, never to hurt you again, and tomorrow is a new day. Leave the past. Don’t look back.”

Emma caught her breath at his declaration and brought his lips back to hers again in a fierce kiss.

“I never could. Not as long as I’m with you,” she assured him. “Take me away from here, Killian.”

“As you wish, my love.”

An hour later, they all stood upon the deck of the Jolly Roger as they headed out to sea. The flames of The Dark Hollow could still be seen and Emma felt like she could truly breathe for the first time in her life. She turned to the helm to see the man she loved handing it over to his first mate, a short, rotund man she’d heard the other men refer to as Smee. Killian came over to her and wrapped his arms around her, his fingers linking over her abdomen, mirroring the stances of his men whose arms were wrapped around Ruby and Mary Margaret.

“Ladies,” he greeted them, “Welcome to the Jolly Roger. I am her captain, Killian Jones. This is your home now, as long as you’d like it to be.” Emma glanced at her friends- her family- and saw the way they were looking at the men who held them close. She smiled softly, realizing they were in the exact same situation as she was. In love. True Love. “Some call us pirates,” Killian continued, “But we prefer to refer to ourselves as free men. We sail where we will and we answer to no crown.”

Mary Margaret turned and rested her head against the chest of a blonde headed man. “I’m right where I want to be,” she said. Emma smiled.

“My lieutenants, David Nolan, Purser, and Graham Humbert, Sailing Master,” Killian introduced, “My love, Emma Swan.” Emma felt her cheeks heat at the possessive pronoun he used for her. She nodded at the two men who responded in kind. “The gentlemen will show you to their quarters. I would assume,” he said, his eyebrows raised in question, “that you’d prefer to berth with them.”

“You assume correctly,” Ruby informed him before capturing Graham’s lips in a passionate kiss that he reciprocated quite enthusiastically.

Emma smiled at Killian as he waggled his eyebrows at her, before pulling her away from their companions and leading her toward the Captain’s Cabin. Once inside, she looked around the large space as Killian crossed to the lanterns scattered around the room and lit them, bathing the room in a soft glow. Once finished, he approached her again, seemingly a little shy. He scratched at a spot behind his ear and Emma smiled, glad that he perhaps was as nervous as she was.

The night before had been wonderful and entirely unexpected, but her life had just literally been turned completely around, and navigating the emotions surrounding those changes was going to be a challenge. But looking into his cerulean depths, she knew, just as she had the night before, that she was home. She was exactly where she belonged. At that realization, her nerves disappeared, replaced by a joy and peace she’d never known.

Killian hadn’t made any other move toward her, so she took his hands and wrapped them behind her, around her waist. She stepped toward him, into his embrace and he surrendered to her completely, kissing her passionately and tightening his arms even further around her.

“Oh, Emma, my love,” he breathed as he peppered light kisses along her cheek bone to her ear before gently taking the lobe in between his teeth. She felt his lips lift in a smile when she gasped at the sensation. He worked his way down the slope of her neck until he reached the top of her corset, tugging on her laces as she went to work on his.

He shuddered as she undressed him, desperate kisses and hands hungry for the touch of bare skin. As the last of their clothing fell to the floor, Killian lifted her in his arms, Emma wrapping her legs around his hips, and moved them toward the bed. She ground down on him, coating him in her juices, as he released a groan that she felt in her very core.

His hands were not idle as he laid her down on the bed. Eyes glowed with love and lust as they slowly roamed over her body, tracing all her curves and rediscovering all her secrets. His fingers found where she was so hot and wanting, and when he plunged them into her channel, she combusted around him, soaring as high as the main mast above them on the deck of the Jolly.

Opening her thighs for him, he settled between them and kissed her so gently, so tenderly, she felt tears fill her eyes.

“I love you, Killian,” she whispered, a single tear escaping.

“Shhhh,” he soothed, catching it on the pad of his thumb. “I love you, too, Emma. You will never have need to be afraid again,” he promised as he slid home.

He made love to her slowly, whispering endearments into her ear as his hands on her body and strong sure strokes pushed her higher and higher until finally, they came together in a cascade of unspeakable pleasure.

Floating together in each other's arms, the drift back to earth seemed to last a blissful eternity. Her limbs and eyelids were heavy, but she had one more thing to tell him.

“I think I can breathe again, Killian.” He hummed in response, fingers stroking the lines of her back. “You’ve given me my freedom. You’ve brought me out of the fire and into a hopeful tomorrow. Thank you.”

“Of course, my love,” he murmured. “You’ve faced the fear, cut the ties to your past, and reached out and grasped your future, your happiness with both hands. And I’ll be right by your side, into a lifetime of tomorrows.”

Feeling safer and more loved than she ever had before, Emma dreamed the dreams of peace, the dreams of hope, dreams with Captain Killian Jones by her side.

The End

~*~*~

Thank you all for reading and sharing! I’d love to know what you think! Happy birthday, Marta! I hope your day has been as wonderful as you are!!! 😘

#out of the fire into tomorrow #krystal writes #happy birthday marta #art by krystal #inspired by burn the ships #cs angsty august

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vorbarrsultana · 2 years

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This is how it feels to be Anakin Skywalker. Forever...

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, @vardaelcntari!

#movies #star wars #sw #sw pt #starwarsedit #swedit #anakin skywalker #anakinskywalkeredit #darth vader #*#*gif #happy birthday again marta!!#hope you'll enjoy this small present:)

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alexlacquemanne · 15 days

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Happy Birthday Ana ♥️

#ana de armas #ana #actress #photoshoot #aestethic #goddess #coupsdecoeur #knives out #marta cabrera #no time to die #paloma #deep water #love #sexy #happy birthday #birthday #hbd

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thedeadthree · 2 years

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POLINA (dceu/bop) // VIKTORIYA (cyberpunk 2077)

ITHLINNE (dragon age: 4) // MARTA (fallen hero)

my dearests @chuckhansen, @florbelles and @risingsh0t tagged me to make the loves in this cutest picrew! thank you so so much you sweetest souls this was so cute to do!

TAGGING: @griffin-wood, @blackreaches, @marivenah, @trvelyans, @celticwoman, @wayhavenots, @leviiackrman, @preachercuster, @jackiesarch, @shellibisshe, @theotherwiseman, @nokstella, @adelaidedrubman, @yennas, @jacobseed, @hoesephseed, @lustyargonianmaid, @roberthouses, @cobb-vanthss, @loriane-elmuerto, @aceghosts, @belorage, @blissfulalchemist, @amistrio, @rosebarsoap, @themysteriouslou, @shadowglens and you! 🖤

#only if you want to of course! 💕🌸#oc: polina velichkova #HAPPY BIRTHDAY POLLY DARLING 🖤😌🔪#oc: viktoriya vays #viktoriya you ice queen you! 🤍😌#oc: ithlinne #i did jump the gun and have the new dearie all set and ready to go 🖤🥺#oc: marta chaykovski #in true rasputina fashion 🖤😌#thank you so much airika and Stella and Alyssa i absolutely adore you both! this was the cutest to do for the girls! 🖤🥺#(also if you’ve done this already feel free to ignore my memory isn’t always the best ✨🤧)#leg.ocs #leg.tagged #t: picrews #playing skyrim and catching up on WTS since the update came out yesterday! im so excited i missed mina & mavis 🖤🥺#and their beloveds! kian and arion! 🖤🥺#im so sorry if these tags make no sense jajzjxjxk it’s the tired leg brain ✨🤧

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duranduratulsa · 11 months

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Happy Birthday 🎂 Jason Voorhees!!!! Now showing on my 80's Fest Movie 🎥 marathon...Friday The 13th Part 2 (1981) on glorious vintage VHS 📼! #movie #movies #horror #fridaythe13th #fridaythe13thpart2 #seanscunningham #jason #jasonvoorhees #happybirthdayjasonvoorhees #amysteel #JohnFurey #stevedash #stuartcharno #martakober #kirstenbaker #WarringtonGillette #billrandolph #russelltodd #tommcbride #laurenmarietaylor #waltgorney #ripwaltgorney #crazyralph #AdrienneKing #betsypalmer #ripbetsypalmer #vintage #vhs #80s #80sfest #durandurantulsas4thannual80sfest

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hjbirthdaywishes · 26 days

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April 19, 2024

Happy 42 Birthday to Marta Milans.

#Marta Milans #Happy Birthday #Rosa Vasquez #Shazam!#Shazam! Fury of the Gods #DC Extended Universe #DCEU #DC #April #2024

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copper-16 · 2 months

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Scary

Several things go amiss during an El Clásico, but it is nothing that cannot be fixed with a little love and bravery.

(a/n: This might be a stretch to the imagination, but let’s just pretend that all the RM/Barcelona games are played at bigger stadiums in this universe. Also Marta Cardona still plays at RM in this as well, because I said so <3)

Ingrid and Mapi had made a small list of rules regarding their daughter when she was born. Some of them included things like:

4. She would not attend any games at stadiums bigger than Johan Cryuff until she was three years old.

7. She would never go to a Spain camp or a Spanish national team game unless situations change drastically.

12. She would take turns being their mascot, unless it was a big event for one of their teammates, and they wanted Elena as their mascot.

All of them had been good additions to the list, and they had stuck to their guns on it. They were made for her safety, to make sure that she wasn’t overwhelmed or overstimulated as a young child, or put in situations that could negatively affect her as such a young child. They did not regret their choices, but it did lend itself to an interesting situation just a few weeks after Elena’s third birthday.

Ever since she had been born, all of the Barcelona vs. Real Madrid games had been played at large arenas, beyond the capacity that they wanted Elena to experience at such a young age. And just as they said, the toddler had never been to a Spain national team camp or game. She readily came to the Norwegian camps and games, but Mapi strictly forbade her from coming to Spains.

When the Spanish defender had made the decision to go back to the Spanish national team, it wasn’t something she had taken lightly. But Pina and Patri wished to go back, and the brunette both wanted to protect her friends, and play for her country again.

But hell would freeze over before she let her baby anywhere near that environment, near the coaches and structures that had played a hand in so much abuse, both physically and mentally.

It was better for Elena this way, and Mapi preferred it that way. But it also meant that several of the Real Madrid girls who Mapi wasn’t necessarily as close with, had never met Elena.

So when El Clásico is scheduled for early January at Lluís Companys Olympic Stadium, the mothers realize that it will be their first time getting to bring Elena to such an event. She had just turned three a few weeks ago, and they figured it was as good of a time as any to introduce her to the environment of a larger game, still safe with the two of them.

And as it turned out, Mapi was the one who got Elena as her mascot that day. Which meant that early in January, the center back stood in the starting eleven lineup with her daughter on her hip, bouncing her lightly as they waited to walk out onto the pitch.

Elena was slightly overstimulated, the roar of the crowd outside of the tunnel and the sheer size of the place around her slightly overwhelming for the young girl, so she was happy to cling to her mother’s side. She looked around at everything for a while, before settling on waving back at her Mama, who was standing in line behind her, holding the hand of another little boy.

Mapi waved forward at Misa Rodríguez and Marta Cardona, who were both pointing at Elena with excitement. The Barcelona defender smiled, rubbing her daughter’s back up and down softly as she nodded - confirming that the two players would get to meet the little girl today.

But it’s an exchange Elena misses entirely, only focusing fully back on her Mami when the players begin to walk out to the stadium properly.

It’s an early evening game, the sun just beginning to set as Mapi tickles Elena’s stomach as they walk out, pointing at all the fans and explaining everything to her daughter. The little girl tucks herself into the smaller defenders side, happily pressed up against Mapi as she takes everything in, curious if not a little anxious.

It’s the biggest environment she’s ever been in, but Mapi finds that their daughter settles quite quickly, waving at all the people as they stand in a line.

“Hola!” Elena calls out happily, and the brunette smiles as many of the fans wave back, well aware of who was in the defender's arms.

“I love you mi sol,” Mapi murmurs, pressing a kiss to her daughter's temple before she passes the little one to Irene, who would not be playing in the match, but rather resting. Ingrid comes over to kiss Elena’s forehead once before she runs toward the backline, leaving Mapi to jog after her, still looking at their daughter.

“Adios Mami, good luck!” Elena called out as Irene carted her away, remaining happily placed in the older defender's arms for the remainder of the game.

The game doesn’t end up being too hard of a match for Barcelona, with a scoreline of 5-0 in their favor. Ingrid had even scored one of their goals, a header off of a corner set piece they had played.

When the final whistle blew, Irene released Elena and watched carefully as she ran straight to Ingrid, who was closer to the little girl than her wife. The Norwegian turned easily, opening her arms as she crouched down, scooping the toddler up into her arms and pressing kisses all over her head.

“You won!” Elena cheered as she giggled, and Ingrid nodded, sweaty and tired but excited nonetheless. It had been a good match, and the crowd was rowdy and roaring around them, clearly equally as elated with the win.

“We did!” Ingrid responded happily as she bounced her daughter on her hip, clapping her hands together as best as she could as she held her daughter, looking around at her teammates with a big smile on her face.

The Norwegian headed toward the bench, intent on getting some water, when she was intercepted by one of the staff members.

“They need you for media,” she explained with a grimace, her voice urgent, and the dark haired woman nodded her head in understanding as she looked quickly toward her wife. The Spaniard was standing off toward their bench, talking to some teammates.

“Of course, let me just do a hand off real quick,” Ingrid explained, rushing over to place Elena down a few paces from where Mapi’s back was turned to them, as she hears her name being called more urgently. “You go over to Mami, okay Elena?” Ingrid explained as she brushed the little girl's sandy blonde curls back, and she received a small nod in response from her daughter.

“María!” Ingrid called out as she turned around, running over to where they needed her for media. But just as she called out and turned away, Mapi started walking forward, away from her daughter as she was called to meet with one of the staff members. Ingrid’s call for her wife is lost in the crowd, and suddenly Elena is left standing on the sidelines of the pitch, with neither of her parents really in sight.

The little girl looks around, hoping that someone in her Mami and Mama’s team will notice her standing all alone, but everyone is distracted. And the loud, rambunctious crowd that she didn’t mind so much when her Mami was by her side, suddenly seemed much scarier than it had a minute ago to the toddler.

Elena doesn’t know this stadium like she does Johan Cryuff, but there are similarities. She turns around, eyeing the tunnel that she finds similar to the one in Johan, and she makes a run for it, weaving through legs in her quest to get to somewhere a little more quiet and contained.

Once she gets there, she realizes that she’s maybe made a bit of a mistake. Because suddenly nothing really looks familiar, and the young girl struggles with what to do. At Johan, you turned right to get to the Barcelona changing room, so that’s exactly what she does.

The little girl is near close to tears, and desperately hoping that she’ll stumble across the locker room, or one of the Barcelona players that she knows. She’s simply kept walking, going down hallway after hallway, trying to find something or someone familiar. By the time she decides that she should turn back around, she’s so lost she doesn’t know how to get back out to the field, and there are tears beginning to brim in her eyes.

Elena comes to a halt in one of the intersections of a hallway as she realizes that she just wants her Mami and Mama, and she doesn’t know what to do. She isn’t the type to wander off, and she’s never been lost like this before. Armed with exactly no experience or skills in coping with such overwhelming feelings, the little girl can do nothing but burst into tears, which stream down her cheeks at a rapid pace as she stands there helplessly.

Misa had been pacing up and down an abandoned hallway in Lluís Companys, staving off tears of her own, her face red as tears brimmed in her eyes. She was frustrated with her performance, with her team's performance, and she needed a second to calm herself down before talking to her teammates or the press, she had decided.

What she didn’t expect, however, was to hear someone else burst into tears, in what sounded like the hallway down from her. Misa pauses, confused by how high pitched and small the noise sounded. It didn’t sound like one of her teammates, and when she rounds the corner, she is entirely unprepared for what she finds.

There is a toddler, a little girl standing alone in the completely empty hallway, her shoulders heaving with the force of her cries, her hands covering her face. She has a little Barcelona kit top on, with the number 23 on it but the last name León across it. The Madridista immediately knows who it is, but what she doesn’t quite understand is why Mapi León and Ingrid Engen’s daughter is sitting in the middle of a hallway on the away side of the stadium.

“Niña? Elena?” Misa calls out softly, walking toward the little girl, who looks up at her when she hears her name called.

Elena looks up, finding a woman she doesn’t know walking toward her, and the first emotion that pours through her is fear. The woman is tall, like Mama, but her face is flushed and she’s wearing an alarmingly bright red jersey and shorts that the young girl doesn’t recognize. Her hands are large, considering that they are encased in goalkeeper gloves, but Elena doesn’t quite realize they are just gloves in her stressed state.

All she registers is that there is a large, unknown woman walking toward her with big, scary hands, and if she was panicked before, it was nothing compared to now. She lets out a fearful squeak as she cowers from Misa, taking several unsteady steps back.

“Hey, it’s okay, I am not going to hurt you niña,” Misa promises, even though she herself is cringing at her words. She’s never felt more like a child predator than in this moment, despite her intentions being more than pure. The goalkeeper had been excited to meet Elena, even more so after the loss, honestly. All of the girls often spoke about how much they adored the little girl, how smiley and kind she was. Misa felt like she could use just a little bit of that energy after the frustrating loss.

And here the smiley little girl was, trying to get away from Misa because she was scared of her. It cracked the Spaniard’s heart right in half, and if she wasn’t upset before, she most definitely was now.

Elena looked behind herself, finally and thankfully spotting a familiar face that had just turned toward the hallway toward the two of them. The Spaniard and Norwegian’s daughter ran as fast as her little legs could carry her, beelining for the Barcelona player who had just turned the corner with Marta and Olga next to her.

Salma had just been coming back to talk to Misa with Marta when all the sudden she felt something slam into her legs, nearly sending her toppling over.

“What the hell—o Elena!” Salma quickly corrected, trying to take in the scene in front of her with complete confusion. The little girl was cowering behind Salma’s legs, holding onto the forward for dear life, practically shaking. Salma instinctively placed her hand over the little girl’s hair, smoothing her curls as she looked up to see Misa walking slowly toward them.

“Elena? What’s going on?” Salma asked helplessly, lost on what to do as she looked between the three Real Madrid players for some semblance of guidance.

Elena had always loved Salma, from when she was a baby. The forward never knew what to do with the little girl, especially when she was younger. She had no experience with children, and she found herself often stunted and awkward in her interactions with Mapi and Ingrid’s daughter, but Elena’s love for her transcended any superfluous worries or awkwardness Salma expressed.

“Scary,” Elena whispered as she pointed toward Misa timidly, her grip on Salma tightening as she tucked her head behind the young Barcelona player's legs. Salma looked up with a heartbroken expression, watching as Misa bit her lip to keep from crying, keeping her distance.

The goalkeeper knew that some people thought she was scary. She got it, she really did. She had an RBF that could probably win an award, and a very intense personality. But it was one thing for a conscious adult to call her scary, and another for a little girl who she had been so excited to meet to call her that. The goalkeeper's heart sank at the realization that this was how Elena was always going to remember her, as the scary woman who tried to kidnap her when she was three years old.

Salma looked between Olga and Marta, silently begging for help. She still had no clue what to do, and appeared to be rather paralyzed by indecision.

It’s Olga who crouches down so that she’s level with the little girl, her voice soft and kind.

“Are you lost niña?” The defender asked gently, and Elena poked her head out from its spot against Salma’s calf, nodding slightly. Her lower lip wobbled heavily, but she wasn’t actively crying, so they all took it as a win.

Elena regarded Olga kindly, if not a bit shyly. The two women with Salma were wearing white, nowhere near the angry red that the other, larger woman was, and the little girl didn’t find them nearly as frightening, all things considered.

“Come on, why don’t we take you back to your Mamis,” Olga decided, holding her hand out for the young girl. Elena took it carefully, but not before reaching for Salma’s hand, making sure that the forward was still holding onto her.

Salma sent the little girl what she hoped was an encouraging smile as they began to walk out toward the pitch. The Barcelona forward wound them down the confusing hallways, with Olga holding Elena’s other hand while Marta carefully wrapped her arm around the goalkeeper. Misa was fighting to keep it together as they all ventured back out to the stadium pitch together.

After a few minutes of walking, Elena let out a small whine, looking up at Salma with big, wet eyes.

“Carry?” She asked, letting go of Olga’s hand in favor of staring up at the tall forward hopefully, tugging lightly on her kit top. Salma looked around at the other girls, terrified and scared of disappointing the little girl. They all looked back at her expectantly in that moment, and she was struck with the fact that she was the one with the most experience with Elena, of the group. It both calms her and terrifies her at the same time, somehow.

“Uh…sure!” She laughed nervously, reaching down to pick Elena up, gripping her under her arms. The forward was used to dealing with the toddler when she was planted firmly on the ground, and she hadn’t carried the sandy blonde girl since she was a baby. She had been so scared to drop the baby that she had shook anxiously the whole time, until Mapi took pity on her and took her daughter back.

But she tries to remember how Mapi and Ingrid do it, settling Elena on her hip as she clings to the little girl for dear life. She would never forgive herself if she dropped her, and she knew she would never hear the end of it from the rest of the team if she did. They were all highly protective of her, a fact that they all prided themselves on.

As the five of them walked out toward the pitch, they had no idea the chaos that was awaiting them out on the field.

—

After her interview had ended, Ingrid had walked back over to her wife with a pep in her step, still overjoyed at the win and the goal she had scored.

Mapi wasn’t hard to find, standing with the assistant coach, discussing a few tactics from the game after he had called her over to talk about some of their defensive lapses. Their daughter was nowhere in sight, so the Norwegian assumed that Mapi had passed her off to one of their teammates, but when she looked around, she couldn’t see Elena anywhere.

“Who did you give Elena to?” Ingrid asked, a crease appeared in her forehead as her eyebrows furrowed together. Mapi looked back at her with equal confusion, shaking her head.

“You have Elena, not me. She went to you after the game,” the Spaniard insists, now beginning to grow confused. Ingrid’s eyebrows flew into her hairline at that statement, shaking her head.

“I gave her to you ten minutes ago, I sent her your way and called out to you,” Ingrid explains, and Mapi pales at the realization that she had never received her daughter.

“I did not hear you, and she never came over to me!” Mapi cried, looking around wildly for her daughter. When she cannot see her anywhere on the pitch, her worry only balloons. “Oh my god, she is lost. She is not here!” The brunette cried out, panic washing over her in waves as she realized what this meant.

The ironic thing was that generally, Ingrid was the anxious one between them. She was the one who worried for Elena, the one who baby proofed the house and took first aid classes and sat in the back of the car with her when she was the baby.

But Ingrid was also exceptional in a crisis, and this was no different.

Mapi, however? Not so good in a crisis, at least a non-football related crisis, that was.

“Oh my god, Ingrid, she could be anywhere!” Mapi pitched as she clawed at her chest, her throat tightening with anxiety as she whipped her head around, looking for any sign of the little girl.

“Do not panic Mapi, she has to be here somewhere. Come on, let’s go find her,” Ingrid insisted, forcing herself to remain calm as she pulled her panicking wife with her as she began to inform people, everyone scrambling to begin looking for the young girl.

They alerted security, sent people all over the stadium to look for her as the Norwegian drug her wife back toward the Barcelona bench.

“This was the last place I left her, so we should stay here. She’s around here somewhere, we just have to find her!” Ingrid insisted as she turned to Irene, who had come over as she got wind of the situation. Hot on the tails of the older defender is the Barcelona captain, looking close to tears herself.

“Is Elena really lost? Where could she have gone? We must find her!” Alexia cried, baby hairs escaping her ponytail as she looked around, clearly frazzled and stressed at the news of the curly haired little girl being lost.

“Yes she is gone–” Ingrid began, only to be cut off before she could even really start her sentence.

“Well we must search for her then!” Alexia interrupted, looking around wildly, her own panic growing.

“Alexia, this is not even your child! If anyone should be allowed to panic, it should be us!” Mapi interjected, her stress seeping into her tone as she gestured wildly with her hands. Alexia let out a huff of disapproval at that, clearly in disagreement.

“She is my goddaughter, I love her too!” Alexia insisted, the two squabbling uselessly as Ingrid watched on with an unimpressed expression.

“If I were not more aware I would assume that these two were the mothers, and not me,” Ingrid mumbled under her breath to Irene, who couldn’t resist letting out a small peal of laughter that she quickly masked as a cough when Mapi and Alexia looked toward her pointedly.

“Who knew that all it took to reduce La Reina and the fearless Mapi León into a puddle of stress was losing a toddler one singular time,” Irene joked back, where she was promptly met with more unimpressed looks from her teammates, and a chuckle from Ingrid.

But even the Norwegian, who was generally cool in a crisis, was beginning to grow worried as time stretched on. Her eyebrows remained furrowed together, her foot beginning to tap nervously as she looked around, letting out a nervous sigh.

“She’s going to be fine, Ingrid. She’s just wandered off somewhere, kids do it sometimes. We lost Mateo in the store once, and found him in the freezer aisle cuddling with some old lady's little dog,” Irene soothed, and Ingrid sent her a grateful smile, even if she didn’t look convinced. She knew the stories, she knew it was normal, but it didn’t make it any easier when it was her own child.

She just wanted Elena back in her arms, proof that she was safe and sound, and to not let her daughter out of her sight until she was twenty seven years old.

“How about we go check the locker room again?” Irene suggests, and the dark haired woman jumps at the opportunity to do something, nodding insistently.

“That’s a good idea,” Ingrid confirmed, and she was just about to head back with her fellow defender when she heard it.

“Mami! Mama!” Elena called out from her spot in Salma’s arms, and both Ingrid and Mapi were booking it toward their daughter as soon as they heard it. The forward was entirely unprepared for both the Spaniard and Norwegian to plow into her, raining kisses down onto her head as they plucked her from Salma’s arms. Mapi hugged Elena tightly to her, as Ingrid pressed into her space, both of them crowding their daughter with an abundance of love and relief, the panic washing off of them at the sight of their precious little girl back safely in their arms.

The forward flipped her braids over her shoulder in relief at the hand off, nearly stumbling over when Ingrid stepped away from her wife and daughter, pulling her younger teammate into a tight hug as Mapi cradled Elena to her chest.

“Thank you so much Salma,” Ingrid murmured in the space above the forward’s shoulders, and despite accepting the hug, the younger woman shook her head.

“It was Misa who found her,” Salma promised, and the dark haired woman wasted no time in moving toward the Real Madrid player, stepping into her space and immediately hugging the goalkeeper, regardless of the fact that they hardly knew one another. Elena looked up from her spot against Mapi to see her Mama moving toward the scary woman, and she let out a whimper as she turned, burrowing her face into Mapi’s sternum with fear.

As the panic subsides from her chest slowly, Mapi takes stock of the whole situation. Elena seemed scared of the Real Madrid players, cowering into her arms as Ingrid hugged Misa tightly. Everyone else seemed focused on Misa, with Salma, Olga, and Marta watching her wife and the Real Madrid goalkeeper. The goalkeeper seemed on the brink of tears, something that the center back assumed was because of the game.

She was informed otherwise when Marta approached her carefully, her voice soft as came close to the Barcelona defender.

“Misa found her in the hallway, but I think she caught the little one in a bad spot, and now I think she’s a little scared of her,” Marta explained, looking toward the Spanish goalkeeper with worry before looking back at the Barcelona center back. Misa was getting a pep talk from both Ingrid and Irene, to what appeared to be little avail, if the tears in her eyes were any indication.

Mapi nods slowly, rubbing her hand soothingly over Elena’s back, up and down softly. Her daughter is already a hundred times calmer, having regulated herself well in her Mami’s arms. That being said, Mapi knew they needed a few moments to regather themselves before they reintroduced her to Misa, if they could.

“Okay, thank you for letting me know. Give us a few minutes?” Mapi asked gently, and Marta nodded before leaving, heading back to her teammate's side.

It was just a few moments later that Ingrid appeared at her wife’s side, the Spaniard wordlessly passing her daughter to the Norwegian, who held her close and rained kisses down on her.

“It’s okay, we’re right here Elena,” Ingrid promised, her own worry and stress evaporating at the content little sigh their daughter let out as she was held tightly to the Norwegians side. It was after a few minutes of holding her that Elena leaned back, looking calmer, if not a little more worried.

“‘M sorry, got lost,” Elena explained gently, her lower lip wobbling as tears brimmed in her eyes again. Ingrid shook her head slightly, her words soft and soothing.

“You do not have to be sorry, Elena. Just try to stay close to me or Mami next time, or someone you know, si? We do not want you to get lost where we cannot find you, because that would make us very scared, okay?” Ingrid explained carefully, and when she finished Elena nodded, a small smile finally appearing on her face as she settled in her mothers arms, back to the happy little girl she normally was. That was something wonderful Ingrid and Mapi both loved about their daughter being so small, how resilient she always was in situations like this.

Mapi looked back over toward Misa, her heart breaking when she saw that the tears had broken through finally, her head buried in her hands.

Elena looked from her mother to the Real Madrid goalkeeper, her little eyebrows worried together at the sight.

“Mami, is she okay?” The sandy blonde girl asked as she looked toward Misa, recognizing the signs of someone crying. Mapi looked toward her wife for a moment, and after receiving a nod of approval from the Norwegian, the Spaniard took her daughter into her arms from her fellow center back.

“That is my friend Misa,” Mapi explained to her daughter, her words slow and gentle. She stays where she is, but tries to convey her warmth to the woman regardless. “She has had a bad day, and I think she is just expressing that by crying, like you do sometimes too when you are upset,” Mapi continued, watching as her daughter stared at the goalkeeper with concern painted in her small face.

“Friend? Tía?” Elena asked curiously, clearly trying to work everything out as Mapi nodded.

“Yes Tía Misa, she is one of my very good friends. She is very kind and funny, just like you!” The Spaniard tried, and Elena looked over at her skeptically, but she chose to believe her Mami.

“Maybe we cheer up?” The little girl asked, and Mapi raised her hand to run it over Elena’s cheek gently, in a soothing manner.

“Are you sure, El? You do not have to, I know you thought she was scary earlier. I promise she is not though, she is one of Mami’s friends,” Mapi promised, not wanting to pressure her daughter to do anything she didn’t want to.

“Cheer her up,” Elena decided, wriggling her body slightly to signal her mother to move. She stiffened suddenly as she looked from Misa to Mapi, with some fear clearly still present in her tone. “You come too,” she checked quickly, relaxing back into the Spaniard when Mapi nodded her agreement to the statement.

Salma, Olga, and Marta had led Misa over to the Real Madrid bench, which was where Mapi brought Elena over to. The goalkeeper was sitting on the bench, her head in her hands as silent sobs wracked her shoulders.

Marta looked over at Mapi with a hopeful expression as the Spaniard placed her daughter on the ground, taking Elena’s hand as she led her over to Misa.

The young girl held her mothers hand carefully as she made her way up to the woman who had been wearing the angry red jersey. She was now wearing a white jacket over her kit top, and something about seeing her when Elena was in a calm state, and the lack of such an aggressive kit top helped to soothe the little girl’s initial concerns.

“Hola,” Elena said softly, her voice small but fierce in its kindness as she stopped a few steps from the goalkeeper. Misa paused, looking up carefully, unable to keep the surprise off her expression when she realized who was in front of her, looking at her carefully.

The goalkeeper looks up at Mapi in shock before she is wiping the tears from her eyes, offering a watery smile to the toddler.

“Hola,” she responded, unsure of what else to say. Elena took another step toward her, offering a small smile.

“My name is Elena,” she expressed quietly, watching as Misa rubbed the tears from her eyes.

“Hi Elena, I’m Misa,” the goalkeeper repeated, trying not to burst into more tears. There was no fear in the little girl's eyes, only curiosity and kindness. Misa feels hope flying into her chest at the little girl's face, at the thought that maybe this whole situation was salvageable. Elena looks at the spot next to Misa, her eyebrows furrowing together in curiosity.

“What are those?” Elena asked gently, pointing to the abandoned goalkeeper gloves that were sitting next to the Madridista. The Spaniard reached for them, holding them out to the little girl softly.

“These are my goalkeeper gloves. Would you like to see them?” Misa asked gently, her voice hopeful. The little girl looked back at her mother for a second before releasing Mapi’s hand, nodding as she walked over to Misa, right up to where she was sitting, placing her hand on the goalkeeper's knee.

“Here, you can put them on,” Misa said softly, everyone watching with relief as the goalkeeper slid her giant gloves onto Elena’s little hands, holding them on to help to keep them from falling off.

The Real Madrid player was absolutely positive that Elena healed something within her when she giggled, leaning into Misa as she moved her hands with the gloves still over them, laughing happily at the sight. It was the goalkeeper's first real smile of the day, and her heart leapt into her throat when Elena climbed into her lap, beginning to talk her toddler nonsense to Misa, who held onto every single word she said.

The Madridista carefully held Elena to her, making sure she was secure with no chance of falling. She looked up when the toddler gasped, seeing Pina and Jana still out on the field, passing the ball listlessly back and forth as they spoke about something.

Elena turned back to Misa with excitement, the goalkeeper gloves falling off her hands in excitement.

“Come play Tía Misa?” The toddler asked hopefully, her eyes big and filled with joy at the prospect of getting to play with all of her friends. Misa looked toward Mapi, who nodded her head in agreement before she smiled brightly, agreeing with Elena.

“Come on!” Elena cheered as she took Misa’s hand after being set on the ground by the goalkeeper, and dragging the taller woman toward the younger girls.

Ingrid had come over to join Mapi, Salma, and Marta, as the right winger shook her head in disbelief. Misa was sitting criss-cross applesauce on the ground, rolling the ball toward Elena, cheering when the toddler tried to kick it.

When Elena finally managed to hit the ball back with some semblance of accuracy, Jana and Pina immediately cheered loudly. Elena giggled at both of them, smiling before she ran over to Misa, collapsing into a hug as she wrapped her arms around the goalkeeper, who hugged her back just as fiercely, a huge smile pulling at both of her cheeks.

“What is it about children that just…heals any wrongdoing?” Marta asked wistfully, and Ingrid chuckled as Mapi shook her head.

“You can’t not love them,” she acquiesced, letting out a final sigh of relief as they all moved to join the girls in playing with the toddler, who happily giggled away at all the attention raining down on her.

#mapi leon #ingrid engen #ingrid x mapi x daughter #woso #barcelona femeni #alexia putellas #olga carmona #marta cardona #misa rodriguez

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facewithoutheart · 2 years

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Happiest of Birthdays to @martsonmars! I’m theming WIPsday to celebrate. (Art in the banner by Marta.) Thanks to @artsyunderstudy for the tag!

First up, it’s a celebration of Marta in gift fic form:

wrapped around my heart by @johnwgrey an adorable and sexy established relationship with LEO CONTENT we love cheeseburger-verse

Second Impressions by @sillyunicorn which gives me Pride & Prejudice vibes but this time Simon gets to be Mr Darcy!

where I belong by @martsonmars a Hercules (Disney version) AU because even though it’s her gift for my birthday I think you should all go read what’s posted as a gift to yourself

Aaaaand a snippet from (insert trumpet noises) MYSTERY PROJECT, aka The Wedding Bet or it’s working title Return of the Mustache Plaque, which is, of course, my gift to Marta.

The Wedding Bet (Teen, 15.5k total, 1/5 chapters posted) is a HIMYM AU where you don’t need to have seen HIMYM to enjoy it. I decided I hate myself when writing it so the fic is broken up into five Acts, with each Act containing three scenes: Past, Chat, and Present. All Simon POV.

Here. Have some slutty Agatha from Chapter 2, posting later today:

I fight back a grin. “So I’m just about to offer him a bite of my muffin–”

“Is that a euphemism?” Agatha interrupts, sitting beside me. “Hello, Niamh.”

Agatha’s draped one arm over the counter and I can see Niamh’s eyes drop to it briefly before turning her face into a scowl. “We were talking,” Niamh says.

“Uh huh.” Agatha reaches over to pluck a maraschino cherry from behind the bar. Tilting back to expose her long neck, Agatha dangles the fruit above red lips and darts out her tongue to lick a drop of juice that threatens to fall from the garnish. She sucks the cherry into her mouth.

I snap my fingers in front of Niamh’s glazed eyes. “Brody? Brody?”

“I’m listening,” Niamh frowns.

If I’ve already tagged you, consider yourselves tagged plus: @urban-sith @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @fatalfangirl @whatevertheweather @stardustasincocaine @captain-aralias @forabeatofadrum @aristocratic-otter @moodandmist @takitalks @jbrrring @excalisbury @otherpeoplesheartachept-2 @confused-bi-queer @palimpsessed @tea-brigade @cutestkilla @creepyspice @ivelovedhimthroughworse @bookish-bogwitch @bazzybelle @dragoneggos @letraspal @im-gettingby @orange-peony @nightimedreamersworld @messofthejess @ionlydrinkhotwater @basiltonbutliketheherb @ileadacharmedlife @stitchyqueer @erzbethluna @whogaveyoupermission @hushed-chorus @larkral @yeonjunenby

#snowbaz #fanfic #WIPsday #wip wednesday #HAPPY BIRTHDAY MARTA

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astudyincontrasts · 6 months

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Penance IX (redux)

Priest!Silco x Fem!Reader AU (nsfw)

A/N: Its my birthday! Last year everyone in this fandom and all the friends I have made because of it made today one of the most special birthdays I have had in a long time. I felt more loved and surrounded in celebration with sweet friends then I had in years, and the cup of that happiness has not stopped running over. There are not enough ways to express my love and gratitude for everyone I've had the joy of meeting here.

So this year, I wanted to offer a gift to all of you. Everyone has been exceedingly patient about my writing struggles to continue Penance, so I'd like to give you the alternate Penance XI chapter- blood I have managed to wring from that stone of writers block. The fate of the continuation of this story may still be up in the air until inspiration comes knocking again, but at least I can share this with you today.

To all my fandom friends, and everyone who has been so supportive of this silly little smutty story. You have my heart.

This picks up after Chapter VIII

“Girl, are you listening?”

Sister Marta’s sharply scolding voice brought you back down to earth with a little jerk, blinking as you turned attention back to the tall, thin, sallow faced nun to meet the exasperated gaze of her cataract-hazed grey eyes.

“Sorry Sister.” You mumbled, casting about for a context clue of whatever it was she might have been speaking about while you’d been off daydreaming about the priest of her parish. Nothing jumped out at you in the dusty old store room of the basement where you both stood in the dim light of one naked and straining lightbulb still swinging gently upon its cord from the nun’s yank of its chain a moment before.

You hadn’t meant to drift off, but it had been four days since you’d seen Father Silco last and that painful, sweet contrition you’d done across the desk of his office was still fresh in your mind as if it had just happened. You ought to have been angry at the fact he’d left you such an unsatisfied mess, and the fact he’d spanked you like a wicked child, in spite of his promise he’d never hurt you as they had back in school.

Truly, he had not. Those sharp little slaps of his open hand were nothing compared to the cruelty of a sharp ruler across knuckles or the backs of thighs delivered by an angry, bitter nun. You smiled faintly at Sister Marta’s increasingly irritated, withered old face and privately thought perhaps she could teach the Father a few things about corporal punishment.

“The candles, girl!” Sister Marta exhorted at last, the thin limit of her patience snapping.

Unlike the ‘my child’ diminutive that the other nuns like Sister Eleanor or Sister Angelica were so fond of using with you and other parishioners, Sister Marta had no use for any such hollow faithful endearments. You hadn’t yet made up your mind if it was an honest gruffness about her you liked, or an insulting mein you did not. You had the notion it would have hardly mattered to the old woman either way.

She nudged one of the pair of low boxes with the toe of her sensible black shoe from under her long, dark habit.

“Take them to the Father to be blessed and then kindly refill the votive stands. You can remove the spent ones and toss them.” She explained, slower this time as if she was speaking to a simpleton.

You bore it with a tight little smile and bent to lift the box on top, surprised by the weight of it, staggering a bit upon rising only to catch a smugly satisfied look on the wrinkled old pucker of a face before Sister Marta reached up to pull the chain of the light and leave you to struggle out the door of the closet and back up the rickety old stairs of the basement in the dark, save for the light from the open door at the top of the steps.

Quietly you wondered if you accidentally fell and broke your neck, if the church would have their endowment free of the burden of your presence that came with it.

Cold comfort, knowing you’d crush the brittle bird-boned old woman climbing up, wheezing softly behind you, and take her with you if you did pitch backward down the steps.

The real trial wasn’t making it to the top of the stairs with the heavy box full of candles, though. No, that one still lay ahead once you’d reached the top without incident. The real trial lay in taking that armload into the rectory to face Father Silco once more and ask his blessing.

You’d thought you’d be safe if you came on a Thursday. You’d avoided the parish planning committee on Monday, as well as your usual Wednesday session with the Father. You’d hardly doubted you’d be missed at the planning meeting, and Wednesday, well. You’d chosen to skip it half in a little act of spite, half just to see what might happen. When no scolding phone call or visit had been forthcoming after shirking both of those commitments the victory felt hollow.

Turning up to make yourself useful to the nuns on Thursday seemed like a good way to cover for your failed gambit and to keep from looking as if you were avoiding the church. Foolishly, you’d thought perhaps you’d manage to skim by with just catching a glimpse of Father Silco in passing.

Unsure if it was because you wanted to see him, or wanted him to see you.

You’d been on rocky footing ever since your little transgression in the confessional, and you knew it.

The door to the rectory lay open just across from the basement door in the open nave of the large narthex, and you waited until Sister Marta crested the steps behind you and shut the basement door to hobble off heavily upon her cane, before you started the slow walk toward his office. You didn’t let yourself hesitate in the doorway, and didn’t have a free hand to knock on the open door with anyway. Instead, summoning all the calm composure you could muster, you simply walked in and paused before his desk.

He sat there, scribbling away in an open book, papers and letters and other books opened in a slightly scattered mess about his work, dark head bent and eyepatch on. He left you standing there until he’d finished what he was writing. Until your elbows and wrists had begun to ache a little from the weight of the box you held. Only then he sat back, letting his pen drop upon the desk as elbows found the armrests of his tall-backed chair and he turned the cool glint of that duplicitously calm ocean colored eye upward.

The thin, scarred cut of his mouth tugged a hint of a smile at one corner.

“Lamb.” He stated mildly, as if unsurprised in the least to see you there and only half interested as to what you might want with him.

Infuriating, how badly you liked hearing that little endearment again. How flustered it made you feel to get hooked on the edge of that smile.

The box shifted heavily in your hands as you juggled its weight and stepped forward to set it upon his desk. Damn his paperwork.

“Sister Marta asked if you’d bless these candles so I could put them in the votive holders.” Your attempt to keep your voice as even and disaffected as possible only resulted in it coming out far softer than you’d meant for it to be.

Leaning forward a touch, Silco flipped one of the flaps of the cardboard lid back to glance at the candles inside with a little hum. One by one he folded each of the other three flaps back and rose to his feet. Elegant fingers stroked absently along the edge of one packaging dividers hashed between the votives within before he plucked a single candle out and set it aside.

Letting that cool eye of his drift shut he made the sign of the cross over the open box of remaining candles before opening both hands before himself, palms cupped upward.

“Lord Jesus Christ, true light that enlightens every man who comes into this world, bestow thy blessing upon these candles, and sanctify them with the light of thy grace. As these tapers burn with visible fire and dispel the darkness of night, so may our hearts with the help of thy grace be enlightened by the invisible fire of the splendor of the Holy Ghost, and may be free from all blindness of sin.”

His eye opened and fell upon you, and suddenly you were profoundly aware of how you just stood there, staring at the tall, lean lines of him in that dark cassock, soaking in the sound of his voice and very obviously not with your hands folded in reverent prayer or eyes downcast as they ought to have been. Something entirely ungodly flickered at the edge of Father Silco’s mouth as he continued on, holding your immobilized gaze.

“Clarify the eyes of our minds that we may see what is pleasing to thee and conducive to our salvation. After the dark perils of this life let us be worthy to reach the eternal light.” His eye closed once more and again he made the sign of the cross over the box as he finished, “Through thee, Jesus Christ, Savior of the world, who in perfect Trinity livest and reignest, God, for ever and ever. Amen.”

His hands lowered, one coming to settle over the glass edge of the candle he’d set to one side, and he considered you as you crossed yourself hastily and reached forward to gather the box back up again. He stopped you lifting it with a touch of the fingertips to its lid.

“When you are through with these, perhaps you’d come back here?” Couched so carefully as a question, yet all you could hear was the quiet order in it. Come back here. Your head was nodding before he even finished speaking and the thin, dark brow not covered by his eyepatch quirked slightly.

“Yes, Father.” Your correction of yourself came nearly automatically.

Another little humming assent and with a slow blink he removed the touch that had stopped you lifting the box, resuming his seat. You hoped he’d resume his work as well, but instead he sat there, watching you go, fingertips drumming thoughtfully upon the little glass votive.

You took your time with the candles, mostly because your hands were shaking and the very last thing you wanted to do was drop one of the blessed things and have it shatter across the church floor. But also, to give you time to scrape yourself together, collect calm and poise. It was no good, heart hammering anticipation equal parts nervousness and excitement. The part of yourself that had wanted so badly to keep up this little charade of wishing to avoid him had succumbed without so much as a whimper.

Again thoughts drifted back to Sunday. To the stinging warmth of skin under his hand, to how he’d teased you to a sodden mess without once slipping fingers beneath the barrier of cotton that had separated you. To how he’d left you wanting and writhing and nearly in tears. A perfect act of contrition, indeed.

It was a struggle not to let yourself wonder what next punishment he could possibly have in store for you.

Spent votives replaced with fresh ones, and the box filled with the clatter of the empty candleholders, you made your way back to his office. Dropping the detritus of other people’s prayers off in the dumpster out back could wait. You had your own worship to attend to.

Father Silco’s desk was far less littered with papers when you returned, open books stacked neatly to one side now and everything else put away save for the book he was still writing in. And that little candle he’d taken. His dark head didn’t even lift as you set the softly clattering box down upon the settee against the wall.

“Office hours are over.” He intoned flatly as you wiped palms nervously over the skirt of the dress covering your thighs.

It froze you, cold like ice water suddenly filling the pit of your belly. Had he just dismissed you after ordering you to return?

“...Father?” It came out a strangled little question and you almost hated how needy the note of your voice made that singular word.

He glanced up and you realized with a start that he’d removed that eyepatch, the hellish orange-red fire of his darkened eye a constant little shock every single time. Ruined eye and teal flicked from you to the door and back again as if in blatant explanation.

“Lock the door.” He elaborated.

It should not have been a matter of pride that you managed to turn and do his bidding without falling all over yourself or scrambling in an embarrassing rush of eagerness, and yet. Far more collected than you felt within, you managed to push the door shut soundlessly and throw the latch, pausing for a moment with your back to him, safely sheltered in the little alcove of the doorway, to breathe through the easing of that sudden cold panic that had surfaced at your earlier misunderstanding.

When you returned to him he’d shut his notebook and set it aside atop the others, and reached to slide that pilfered votive candle before himself as he watched you sidle up to his desk. Watched you stop, smooth the skirt of your dress only to fist it again in fitful hands, watched the tight little press of thighs as he drew out the silence.

“Do you know what these are called?” He asked, nudging the little candle forward with the press of one elegant fingertip before rising from his seat.

“Devotionaries.” You answered, and watched him cross to the wall to the right of you, to a tall coat stand that stood near the door to his quarters.

“Very good.”

A child could have answered that question, but it did not stop the little smile of pleasure that tugged at the corners of your mouth. His praise as euphoric as a drug and twice as addictive, even for the smallest of successes.

Your mouth went dry however, as he turned profile to you, tugged a button or two open upon the throat of his cassock, and then turned his back to undo the rest before shrugging out of the long, dark cloth to hang it upon the coat stand. The black fabric fell in a long and shapeless mass without him, hem puddling ever so slightly on the floor.

It put you in mind of Peter Pan hanging up his shadow, or it would have done, had you not been so preoccupied with the shape of him divested of the dark habit. Of that petulant posture and taut lovely lines, proud set of shoulders and careless, dangerous beauty in how he moved. It was patently unfair that a man sporting licks of sliver at his temples and etched crows feet at the outset edges of his eye should have the lithe shape of youth the way he did.

Devoid of the cassock, he was left instead in the black roman-collared linen shirt and dark, sharply pleated trousers he wore beneath.

He turned back to you and came wandering back toward the desk, unbuttoning the cuffs at his wrists.

“Do you have a lighter?” The question was so casual it caught you off guard and you had to shake your head, tugging at the pocketless skirt of your dress on either side of thighs by way of explanation.

His mouth twisted the merest fraction of a smile as he tucked the cuff of one of his sleeves back, began rolling it neatly toward his elbow. Lean hips turned a fraction as he stepped closer.

“Left pocket.” He instructed, helpfully.

Hesitation grasped you but a moment before you inched forward, stepped into his space and paused. Glancing upward, you found his attention fixed upon meticulously still folding his sleeves back, crisp turn by turn. The focus of those mismatched eyes not even flickering to you, to how every fine hair upon your bare arms stood on end like they were aching toward him, toward that magnetic draw of snapping static thrumming in the air between you both.

Easing half behind him, you reached for the little gap of the pocket and slowly slid fingers into the warmth of its silken confines. Over the bone of his hip and down, wrist deep until you hit the bottom of the pocket and touched the smooth, rectangular shape of the lighter within. Metal heated to body temperature from where it nestled.

Fingers curled around it before you stopped. Let it go, and moved just a little closer, pressed fingers flat to that join between hip and thigh his pocket lay against. Pushed the delve of that pocket just a little deeper and felt his stomach tense beneath your fingertips as your cheek brushed the outside of his upper arm.

“The lighter, lamb. If you please.” His tone was darkly amused at least, though if you kept pushing your luck it would be at your own cost. That much was clear.

You scooped up the lighter once more, but withdrew your hand slow, knuckles grazing softly along the cut of muscle you could feel running from his hip inward and down. Air felt unwelcomely cold against your skin once you pulled your hand free, and before you could step back, he moved away for you. Walked away to resume his seat behind the desk as he finished doing up his other cuff to just below his right elbow.

A small push of his foot made space between the seat and the desk, and you only needed the flick of his eyes from you to the room he’d made to set you in motion to come and stand before him, his lighter clenched tight in your closed fist, unwilling to relinquish the little bit of his heat you held in your palm.

Gazing up at you, his attention licked over the details of your dress, your posture, your hesitant composure, as he tugged at the give of trousers a little at the bend of thigh and hip and settled himself more comfortably.

“You weren’t here yesterday.” He observed as he relaxed back against the tall chair, a flicker of a blink over that oceanic eye. You held your tongue and his gaze fell to the candle upon the desk just beside where you stood, and you wondered if your absence had made him angry, filled him with regret, or perhaps just left him lonesome. You wished there was a way to tell, any little crack in that stoic mask of scarred features and sharpness to let the truth of what he was thinking seep out. Nothing there though but that calculating, penetrating gaze and a subtle shrug of broad, lean shoulders, “I suppose we might make up for lost time, then. Contrition may be an important facet of faith, but so is devotion.”

He reached forward to scoop into fingers the loose end of the bow that tied the wrap of your dress shut beside your waist. His good eye narrowed, the fine lines of crowsfoot deepening. He’d seen that dress before, yes– the same one you’d worn to catch him by surprise in the confessional.

You allowed yourself the most innocent little smile you could manage when those mismatched eyes flicked sharply to your face, and willed breath to stay even, slow, no matter how skin had begun to sing his name in soft coursing waves of prickling goosebumps.

“I don’t suppose you have your rosary?” He asked archly, letting the ribbon of the bow drop from his open hand as he sat back once more.

He’d every right to ask it of you so dryly, given your lack of pockets. And you had every right to feel as smug as you did when you lifted a hand, reached into the low, criss-crossed neckline of your dress and drew out the strand of little purple beads from the nestle of your bra.

The war between shock, dark delight, the struggle to keep his poker face, and perhaps even a hint of righteous outrage that overtook the sharply handsome ruin of his features was nothing short of spectacular. You’d replay it, over and over again at night. Reveling in how well you toppled the high and mighty cold ivory pillar he so often perched upon.

Out and out you drew the beads until the little cross popped free and the rosary hung, swinging, upon your forefinger.

His hand, resting upon his knee, tightened, fingers twitching slightly, before it stilled, then lifted, palm open in demand.

You dropped that little holy object into his hand and watched his fist close around it, knowing full well he now held a little piece of your heat as surely as you held his within your other hand. There was a slight softening to the creases where thin brows met over that sharp nose that told you he felt it, too.

“Good girl.” He murmured, and the flush that crept up to warm your ears was nearly as delicious as the thrill that both chased up your spine and tugged at the backs of your knees to fold, to kneel. You rested the heel of your palm upon the desk behind you and let it take your weight so that you did not cave.

By the time he turned his face back up to you he’d mastered his expression once more, beatific calm singed at its hard edges.

“Turn around,” He instructed, making the simple order sound heavy, dangerous. Bringing thighs together from their slight sprawl, he patted the top of one, “Have a seat.”

Heart thudded hard in your ears as you did as you were bade, turning to sink onto his lap carefully, perched upon his knees. He sucked chipped teeth softly at it.

“Have a seat,” That grit velvet voice scolded gently from behind you as both his hands curled about your waist and urged you backward, until you sat comfortably fully upon him, back fitted to his front.

A hand upon your hip skimmed over stomach and waist, back to the bow of your dress.

“Why do we say devotions?” He asked, and you could feel the question purring through his chest against your back as he claimed the thick ribbon of the bow and tugged. The knot gave with no resistance, and the part of it he held served nicely to pull the cross of your dress open, just enough to part the skirt of it and leave you bare from stomach to thighs.

The shudder that overtook you was sweet and slow, wringing from core to limbs, leaving a little shivering tingle rising over scalp and curling toes, that familiar little throbbing ache back with a hot and hungry vengeance. Hips shifted in your seat as his fingertips ghosted skin to part fabric and push it aside, leaving your lower half bare save for the dark, smooth satin of underwear in the same shade of inky black as his habit.

“To remember the dead?” You chanced, feeling halfway there yourself, pulse racing erratically.

“Sometimes,” He agreed, and you swore you felt the whisper of scarred lips at your neck. Certainly felt the wash of warm breath plume over skin, “More generally devotions are an act of prayer or private worship. Remembrance is one act, as are service, reflection, beseeching, prostration… your rosary, for example, is considered a devotion.”

His hands slid along your arms, touch warm, bringing your hands together to press in prayer before he began to wind the beaded strings around your wrists again to bind them together.

“I thought that was a penance.” You exhaled in a shuddering little rasp.

“It can be, but not today.” The tip of his sharp nose drew a long, slow line against the rise of your spine, above the neckline of your dress between shoulder blades and to the base of your skull, “although that can be a devotion too.”

The heel of his foot caught the floor and pulled the seat with you both in it forward towards his desk, so that he could reach around you and lift the candle from where it sat before pushing you both back again. He held the votive before you.

“Light it,” he asked, free arm curling about you, fingers trailing the soft of your stomach from navel on down, “I owe you a devotion, lamb.”

Fingers bound in prayer fumbled with the thick golden rectangle of the lighter as you struggled not to simply sink back against him with a little shiver and beg that he stroke that little path across vulnerable skin once more. A flick of your thumb sent the hinged lid open and the circular little flint struck on the second attempt, hot flame bursting to life. Silco turned the candle so that you could light it and then pulled it away as you flicked the lighter shut and slipped it back between folded hands.

“Do you know the devotional prayer?” He asked, hand holding the candle coming to settle upon an armrest as his lap shifted beneath you, lean legs pressing together beneath your own and lifting before spreading wide, the hook of his knees beneath your thighs opening them in an indecent slow splay.

It set you writhing; the kissing chill of the air of the room contrasting sharply with the heat of him beneath you, so very bare, bound in his lap, spread open like an invitation. The door was locked, yes, you’d made sure of it but what if you were wrong? What if someone had a key? There’d be no explanation for the position you found yourself in, no way to hide.

The thrill of that little licking fear warred with the light caress of his free hand as it curled over the top of one thigh and smoothed toward your knee, only to hook it better in its drape over his own before it began the slow teasing, lazy circles that drew it back toward the little throbbing want hidden beneath the black satin gusset of thin panties.

“Bare legs.” He murmured, and you gave another little squirm, folded hands pressing together tighter. You’d not worn what you were coming to suspect was his favorite item of your clothing because you’d not expected to see him, and also to spite him if you did. The move seemed to have backfired spectacularly. When you had no excuse or answer, Father Silco simply carried on, a note of pleased amusement in his tone, “The prayer?”

“N-no. That is, no I don’t know it.”

“Hmn.” His little hum of disapproval at the gaps still existing in your liturgical knowledge colored your cheeks, and you could only hope that from his position he could not see the frustration that joined the embarrassment upon your face.

You watched him lift the candle slowly from where he’d held it at your side, bring it to hover over your open lap. His hand upon your thigh stilled its toying little strokes and instead closed in a taut grip of your leg, soft skin denting tenderly beneath his fingers.

“That’s alright,” he reassured you quietly, and you could hear the dark little smile in it, “This is my devotion anyhow.”

The flickering little candle he held hovering before you began to tilt, turn, and the inward gasp of breath caught in your throat as the clear melted wax welled at the lip of the red glass before spilling over, heat spattering in a little drip against the sensitive skin of your knee.

He paused, and you could feel him shift under your restless hips, feel the little roll of his own and the way his breath strained ever so slightly for just a moment.

“Does that hurt?” Low and velvet that voice mumbled up against the skin behind the fold of your ear and again he tipped a little burning drop of wax onto waiting skin.

Your knee jumped the barest fraction, reflexive little jerk at the soft scalding that faded quickly into gentle warmth, and you nodded, folded hands pressing the knuckles of forefingers tight to your lips.

“A little.” You breathed, raggedly.

“Enough to stop?” He pressed, and the soft moan of a sigh that broke from you when the warmth of his mouth touched to the hard thrum of your pulse answered well enough for you before your shattered little ‘no’ eked out.

His fingers had strayed far up the leg they’d been casually toying across, toward the heat that he had to feel absolutely radiating from the apex of thighs. One long forefinger drew a tracing line around the triangle of slippery black satin, up both edges and across your lower stomach slowly.

Air seized in your throat as his fingertips plucked at the smooth waistband.

“Lord, may this candle which I light illuminate all my difficulties and decisions.” Silco began, waiting to feel the tension stringing through you begin to ease before he spilled another dollop of wax, and then a second and third a bit further up each time. The soft sting of it had you writhing, the little shock of burning heat fading to a warm tickle as the wax rolled down in heavy drips, cooling against your skin.

Behind you, Silco’s breath caught in a little huff once more, a soft whistle between clenched chipped teeth on the inhale.

“May this candle be a fire,” He continued after a beat, spreading the warm little shocks and sudden pinching stings to the tender inner thigh of your other leg, “that burns away all my pride, selfishness…”

Writhing and shifting, you struggled in his lap, not wanting to escape yet fighting the way every fibre of you recoiled from the spattering searing sting of the wax in a reflexive, uncontrollable urge. Several of these squirming jerks of your hips and the hand teasing at the edge of your panties caught suddenly in a taut cup between your legs as you felt Silco’s own hips give a hard little shove upward.

Stilling breathlessly, he kept you waiting a long moment while he seemed to struggle to master himself, the fingers cupping you picking up an almost absent little up and down stroke over the satin covering the shape of your sex, unerringly finding the cleft between lips.

Cooling wax flexed and tugged at skin as you tried to spread a bit further for him, to press into his touch, scared if you were to beg for more with words that it might stop the tease entirely, as it had the last time he’d had his hand between your thighs. God, how he’d tormented you, brought you so terribly close… Hips rolled hard and slow against him in retaliation as you relived your humiliation.

As if reading your mind, his touch skimmed higher, and fingertips tucked themselves beneath the satin confines of the upper edge of panties, teasing little strokes at skin that tensed and trembled beneath his touch before they began to slip lower, “and all my other sins.”

Wax was flowing freely, dripping to punctuate each word, taking his sweet time as you wriggled and bucked in his lap, swallowing little gasps and hisses as your skin sang.

At least one shift of your hips must have caught him just right because for a moment you could hear him choke on his words, feel him tense beneath you again. Determined to give as good as you got you did it again and felt the rush of his breath fan against your neck.

His free hand tensed where it lay, fingertips so tremulously close to the cleft of lips, and delved to catch a second taut grip over the shape of your bare sex. The sudden hard grasp of naked contact had you spiraling, arching hard back against him. He was hard beneath you, you could feel it, and caught between his hand and that hint of hardness digging into the soft of your bottom you rocked slowly, only to be rewarded with a long pour of hot wax up your thigh that turned the gentle motion of hips to a wild little ride.

“May this candle be a flame,” He continued, and the broken rasp of his voice was nearly, nearly as sweet as the single slow caress of his finger that found the slick part of your folds and pressed between slippery skin to drag upward. Unerringly found the proud, eager little swell of your clit and sent your lower back into a hard strung arch with one little nudge, “that warms my heart and incites me to love.” He concluded, raggedly, and you swore you felt the graze of chipped teeth scrape over your shoulder.

Riding the light touch of his fingertip and behind you, the hard press of his cock through his pants and your open dress, you sprawled redolently back against him, let your neck find a home in a comfortable arch over his shoulder before turning your head, nestling forehead in the hollow of his throat before shifting to tuck a begging little kiss to the sharp of his jaw.

“Amen.” You finished for him, and felt the sting of wax hit your hip and then your stomach that made you hiss and buck hips once more. Your reward a groan of breath from him and another lingering stroke of his fingertips through soaked folds to flick caressingly at the sweet throbbing ache of your clit.

How long, how many bitter nights now had you wished for this, how many feverish and filthy dreams had you endured, just longing to feel his bare touch? It had become so much worse after your last meeting, all that sharp longing redoubled after his heartless punishing teasing.

No more, no more thin cotton or sheer lace or anything at all between his touch and you. The heat of his hand was nothing to the splashes of searing wax you’d endured, yet it was so much sweeter. That little flicking touch came ghosting over the sensitive little nub of your clit and you writhed unashamedly, trying every which way to force his touch more, closer, deeper.

The prayer was far too short for your liking. What good were hollow words meant to convey something as strong and fervent an ideal as devotion if they were over in mere minutes? Grumbling a little whinging protest you pushed back against him with a hard roll of hips.

“Father…” You objected, voice cracked with pleading.

“Who?” The grit dark velvet of his voice asked at your ear, delighted and tormented as the devil himself.

“Daddy.” The word was out before you could even think it, like it teetered perpetually on the edge of your teeth ever since the first time he prised it out of you, “P-please, please, daddy…”

The sharp blade of his nose shoved hard behind your ear, his ragged breathing a hushed tickling whuffle from narrow nostrils, and any further pleading you were on the verge of was stifled with a squealed little gasp as he spread the sodden petals of your pussy with the splay of three fingers, and the center one of those long, elegant digits found its way down between slicking folds, delving deep into the welcoming clenching grip of your want… only to withdraw his entire hand in a long, slow drag, tracing a line of accusatory wet all the way up to the dip of your navel.

It left you sobbing tearlessly, gasping and gulping and lifting hips in a wordless eagerness that only earned you another splattering of scalding wax across the strain of thighs.

Father Silco ignored your plight as steadfastly as any man of the cloth could ignore temptation, and began a new prayer.

“Earnestly I seek you;

I thirst for you,

my whole being longs for you,

in a dry and parched land

where there is no water.”

The psalm he recited washed over you like a slow caress while you squirmed fitfully on his lap and watched his hand lift, middle finger glossed to its base with your wet. Vanishing in your periphery, the sound of him sucking that long digit thoughtfully clean acted perfect punctuation to the sacrilege of his misappropriated prayer.

Guilt spiced the edge of half-denied pleasure and soft pain. As his hand slid back down your skin and toward the clenching, shivering yearning of your core, you’d never felt so debased, so deeply wicked and wrong. Burning wax hit your thigh once more in heavy, rolling drops and you arched, straining, hissing between clenched teeth; become more serpent in the garden of Eden than Eve.

“I have seen you in the sanctuary

and beheld your power and your glory.

Because your love is better than life,

my lips will glorify you.”

He teased the upper edge of soaked panties once more, tracing the pucker of their hem, slipping fingertips just beneath them, savoring the softness of skin and the way the taut of your stomach quivered beneath his touch. Desire welled like a dark stone filling your throat, heart coated in the sticky sap of filthy blasphemous sin as his scarred mouth tickled at the hook of your jaw and tender line of your throat. This was wrong, so wrong, so deliciously perfectly throbbingly wrong.

Heat flooded your face as you crushed the press of prayer folded hands to your forehead, eyes shut tight against the rushing high of mortifying lust. Forbidden, taboo, illicit; whatever you wanted to call that gut-deep and undisputed knowledge that this was unforgivably wrong, it excited you in a way nothing else ever had.

He could see it in you, you knew he could. He saw how horrible your deepest darkest thoughts could be and he just kept dragging them out into the light, smiling as he let you dirty yourself with the honesty of your predilections.

The line of his arm tightened against your side as he reached to slip fingers back into your heat, another lazy circling tease to against clit that left you wrung out and breathless before he delved back inside of you and let you ride the slow pumping slide of one long finger.

“I will praise you as long as I live,

and in your name I will lift up my hands.

I will be fully satisfied as with the richest of foods;

with singing lips my mouth will praise you.”

Your head rocked as he butted his forehead gently to your temple, words a warm, seeping whisper at your cheek, that stern, gravel worn seduction of his voice undoing you, taking you apart at the seams until you felt sure you’d fall open there in his lap like a ragdoll with the sin-like sawdust spilled out.

Inside of you, he was inside of you- and just that knowledge, just the wretchedly wonderful wrongness of it made the whole of you jerk in a taut little shiver of surrender. That slender artful finger kept up its torment like he had no notion of your mortal struggle; curling, thrusting, buried deep. It had you in a tailspin, hips working devoid of conscious thought, all sensation dialed down to the hard, hot, fluttering building to a crescendo within. Greed, gluttony, lust… were they called deadly sins because you felt fit to die if you did not satisfy each one right this moment?

The stinging pain of the wax he kept dripping in erratic little patterns jerked you from the sinking, seeping pit of ecstatic bliss over and over again, a cruel and wonderful see-saw that kept you gripping white-knuckled on the sharp edge of insensible pleasure.

“On my bed I remember you;

I think of you through the watches of the night.

Because you are my help,

I sing in the shadow of your wings.

I cling to you;

your right hand upholds me.”

His right hand was all that stood between you and heaven; the grinding press of the heel of his palm to the throb of your clit, the smooth slow fucking his single finger was giving you, all of it an overwhelming agony of delight but just shy of what you needed to crest the rising wave of tense bliss he was intent on drowning you with.

Head tossed back, you groaned that little, broken, sordid version of his holy title once more, hands bound at the wrists with your rosary clenched in fervent prayer to your chest that he’d let you come, please God just let you come...

And with that one word, beneath you Father Silco went suddenly still and rigid, something like a strangled gasp caught in his throat as hips pinned under your writhing ones jerked their own stilted thrust upward… and held for a long and breathless moment before you felt him sag with a rushing, panting release. His hand cupped to you had gone quite still, and you could feel the ragged rise and fall of his chest against your back.

Had he… had he just…? You shifted hips experimentally and heard him hiss a wordless scolding as his hand gripped the shape of your pussy hard. Stilling obediently, you had to struggle not to smile sinful bliss.

Just a little touch of you combined with the friction of your hips working in his lap and he’d cum those dark, well tailored pants of his.

In spite of being robbed of your own relief, for the moment you felt nothing but powerful, smug and heady with the evidence of how your infatuation was not one-sided, just as you had in the confessional, and it made you foolishly proud.

Proud, right up to the point when he withdrew his finger from within you and in the space of a half second, just before your mouth could open in complaint, caught a little pinch of your clit between thumb and middle finger only to assault that overstimulated cluster of slick nerves with his forefinger in such lashing that you pitched clean into the waiting arms of your release.

It was hard and fast, unmerciful, the lovely strain nearly ruined by how long he’d kept you waiting and how hard he’d teased you up to it.

“Amen.” He was purring in your ear, voice near drowned out by the hard thrumming pound of blood rushing in your brain. Thighs shivered in their hook over top of his own, gone weak as every ounce of tension bled out of you, leaving you lolling, warmly pliant and sighing devoutness far more fervent than any stale saint could have possibly understood.

There was a little click of glass as he set the remains of the candle back upon his desk and turned your face toward himself where your head lay back upon his shoulder. Fingers traced the curve of your cheek, and when he licked at the open part of your lips the faint taste of yourself mingled with him lingered. Bless me father, for I have sinned.

Profane and perfect, you felt his smile stretch against your mouth.

“Do you doubt my devotion, lamb?” He asked quietly, hands smoothing away the cooled and peeling wax in long strokes that left gently welted and red splotched skin stinging sweetly.

Your head shook infinitesimally, not wanting to break the scant contact of his mouth to your own.

“Do you pray for me, Father?” The urge to know felt crushing, the weight of guilt creeping in to gnaw at the edges of sordid bliss.

“Oh lamb. You’re the only thing I pray for anymore.”

#penance #silco #father silco #priest silco #silco au #arcane au #silco x reader #silco arcane x reader #no y/n #more penance at last! rejoice!#my birthday gift to you

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futbol16 · 1 year

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Not In Front Of Me! • Alexia Putellas

Took me a while but I’m finally here with another forgotten birthday angst! Hope you enjoy!

Request: This idea would be amazing: Reader is Mapi’s younger sister and Alexia’s gf and it's her bday and all of the girls seem to have forgotten. Neither Alexia or her sister manage to cheer her up when she comes into the facility and match sadder than ever. Alexia and Mapi had absolutely no idea what was going on and were kind of getting annoyed with Y/N throughout the day and tearing Y/N down even more, which she thought wasn’t possible. Until a journalist asks them in a post match interview what they did for Y/N’s birthday and the whole team is left speechless. They can’t get a hold of Y/N as she disappeared right after the game. They eventually find her after the whole team, especially her two favorite people were sick with worry at her favorite spot on the beach, alone, cold and in tears. You can take the angst level to another dimension

Word count: 2,4k

This was your day, your 25th birthday and to say you were looking forward to today would be an understatement. A week ago you had made plans with Ingrid and Frido to go out for coffee before the match and later that day you’d celebrate with your teammates.

You loved celebrating birthdays with your Barca teammates because it felt like a big family. Everyone had their roles, the responsible ones; Irene and Sandra, the ones more excited about the cake than the celebrations; Mapi, Caro, Marta and Alexia, and the rest were the silly children going crazy. You’d all dance around to the loud music like there was no tomorrow.

There’s a skip in your steps as you arrive in the lounge room looking for the two Scandinavians. It’s not hard to spot them towering over some of the others and you approach them with a wide smile as you put your arms around each of their waists.

“Ready for that coffee date?” they laugh at your excited face as they pull you along and out of the facility and to the coffee shop. You spend the next hour or so with them talking about the Christmas break and sometimes bringing up a memory from your early Barca days. Conversation flows so smoothly that you don’t even realize they haven’t wished you a happy birthday until you’re glancing down at your phone and see the date. It wasn’t like they had to congratulate you on your birthday the second they’d see you but the two of them were usually the firsts to do so.

“We better get going or we’ll be late for the bus” you nod at Frido’s words and the three of you hurry back to the rest of your teammates.

You quickly grab your training bag and shove it into the bottom of the bus before walking over to your girlfriend and placing a kiss on her cheek.

“Hola mi amor” you greet her cheerfully which she doesn’t seem to reciprocate

“Where were you? The three of you could’ve missed the bus or made us late to the stadium Y/N” she lightly scolds you and you frown at her.

“We just had coffee, we made sure to get back in time” she exhales lowly before turning to the bus.

“Come on then cariño”

As you walk the stairs of the bus you find your usual seat next to your sister, it had been an unspoken rule the two of you followed. You’d always sit next to each other before matches no matter what, you could’ve had an argument the day before but sitting together was a must. It was like a pre match superstition. You plop down in the seat next to Mapi who turns to you with a raised eyebrow as you get comfortable. You sit in silence for a while knowing that she was getting in the zone but you grow tired of it quickly.

“Hey Mapi?”

“Hmm?”

“Are we gonna go home for Christmas?”

“Yeah” she answers shortly as she turns back to look out the window, hinting that she wouldn’t like to talk. But like any younger sibling you’d push her just a little more.

“Are you bringing Ingrid with us?” she turns back to you as she answers

“Sí, that’s okay, right?”

“Of course, I love Ingrid!” she nods at you with a slight smile playing on her lips, but she’s also trying to focus on the match ahead of you all and you’re not helping her one bit.

“You know what day it is?” you continue as she stays quiet “It’s weird a year has already passed, I’m-”

“Go annoy someone else Y/n, I don’t have the patience for you right now!” she snaps at you and you stare at her with your mouth slightly parted as you get cut off. She rarely ever talked to you like that.

“Go!” she snaps again with an expectant look. You blink back your tears as you move out of your seat and look for an open seat closest to you. You sit in the empty seat next to Ana-Maria and the blonde gives you a sympathetic look.

“Happy birthday” she whispers into your ear as she pulls you into her side, you had always been close to her, even after her relationship with your sister ended. To know that your sister’s ex remembered your birthday but not your sister was like a knife to your heart.

“Thank you” you sniffle as you lean your head on her shoulder.

“What’s up with you?” your sister asks as you walk into the stadium, the frown having not left your face. You shrug at her.

“You feeling sick or something?”

“I’m fine María” you tell her as you push past her.

“Sure” she grumbles under her breath as she moves to her own locker.

As you make your way into the tunnel you feel a tug on your arm and you’re pulled into a stronger body.

“Happy birthday baby León” the Atlético Madrid goalkeeper greets you and you smile into her embrace.

“Thanks Lola” you’re about to say something else but you’re cut off by the shout of your captain.

“Y/N! Your own team!” you give her a look but she doesn’t budge and so with an apologetic look you move away from Lola and back in line.

“I was just saying hi to her” you mutter from your place behind Alexia.

“I know, but you can do that after the match, okay amor?” she tells you with a quick discreet kiss to your forehead before the two teams start their walk out of the tunnel.

You go into halftime leading 2-1 and five minutes into the second half you’re scoring Barcelona’s third goal. However, that doesn’t mean Alexia lets your mistakes slide as you accidentally give the ball away to the opposition for the second time in a row. She pulls you aside as the ball goes out.

“I don’t care what’s going on, I want you to be here and focusing on the match” are the harsh words that come out of her mouth. You know this is the captain's side of her, the captain that can’t make exceptions for anyone, not even for her girlfriend. Despite many beliefs, the midfielder was the softest person with you behind closed doors, but she was an ambitious player, much like most of you and so that side of her rarely was shown on the pitch. Which is exactly why you know you shouldn’t let her words get to you but with everything that’s been going on today you can’t help but take it to heart. Your best friends have forgotten about your birthday and your girlfriend is angry with you.

The match eventually comes to an end after a long 96 minutes and you’re happy to have your name on the scoreboard twice as Barcelona win 6-1. You’re pulled into the brunette’s side as Alexia puts an arm around your shoulders, a joyful look on her face.

“Good game, you played well, querida!” she tells you enthusiastically but you keep looking forward.

“Mhmm” you hum out as you shrug her arm off and gently move away from her. The midfielder stops in her steps with a frown as she watches you get pulled away by Lola, a smile making its way onto your face. You were always great friends with the goalkeeper, that was not why she was confused but rather at your bad mood. How could you be feeling sad after winning a match? She’s about to walk after you but Irene interrupts her and pulls her away for a post match interview where some of her other girls are already waiting.

“Congratulations on the win! Celebrations are big tonight at Barca after an amazing victory over Atlético Madrid and Y/N León’s birthday is today too!” Alexia, Mapi, Irene and Patri’s faces fall in sync. They’ve totally forgotten about that. Irene and Patri exchange looks while Alexia stares ahead with wide eyes, utterly disappointed in herself. Your sister looks behind the three of them in panic as she searches for your form. You had been talking with Lola only moments ago, where were you now?

“Anything special you’re doing for the birthday girl?” the interviewer speaks eagerly as she moves the microphone over to them.

“Erm-”

“I can’t find her” Mapi whispers so only the captain can hear next to her.

“Excuse us please, lo siento, we gotta fix something” your girlfriend rushes out as she hands back the mic and all four of them take off at the same time, the rest of the team following them to the locker room like a herd of sheep.

“Y/N! Mi amor!” Alexia yells out as they enter only to find your locker empty.

“Where is she?!” your sister speaks in a panicked tone as she puts her hand in her hair.

“What happened?”

“What’s going on?”

Mariona and Sandra ask what everyone else wants to know and the four of them turn to the rest of the team to explain but someone beats them to it.

“You all forgot her birthday”

“Like you didn’t!” Mapi points an accusatory finger at the other blonde, who despite the disappointed look she’s sporting stays calm.

“I didn’t” Ana lets them know.

“Fuck!” Mapi whispers under her breath. “Ale do you know where she went? Come on Ale, you know everything about her!”

The brunette thinks for a second before nodding. It doesn’t take the team long to arrive back to their own training facility where they decide they’d split up to cover more ground, everyone going in pairs to where they thought they’d most likely find you. Alexia and your sister stay back as the others disperse and Mapi looks over at the brunette.

“You know where she is don’t you?” she asks with a knowing look, grinning when the other nods back at her. Despite the situation they were in right now, your sister knew Alexia and you were made for each other. She was it for you and you were it for Alexia.

Without another word the two of them take off to the direction of the beach closest to your shared apartment with your girlfriend. Upon arriving they notice a form sitting at one of the larger rocks, supposedly you, leant back on said rock.

They approach you slowly, taking notice of the training bag by your feet and the Barcelona kit still on you. You’re shivering slightly, the thin hoodie on you not protecting you from the chill air of the evening.

You’re startled as someone sits next to you, you know it’s Mapi but you don’t bother to acknowledge her presence as you keep your gaze fixated onto the water. Your view is soon blocked by Alexia as she sits on your other side, your sister and girlfriend sandwiching you between them.

Alexia’s heart breaks at the sight of your tear stained face and she reaches out to wipe them away but you pull out of her hold. She feels her own eyes well up as she retracts her hand.

“Come on hermana, don’t be like that” your sister pleads but you shut her up with a glare.

“I don’t wanna talk right now” you huff out, though them leaving you alone right now was impossible to ask, not with the state you were in.

“I was really worried when you just left amor, I didn’t know if something could’ve happened to you while you were out alone”

“I’m not a baby” you mutter to Alexia

“I know, I know, but I’m always going to worry about you” she tells you sincerely and you nod at her words, though still not looking at either of them.

“How can I make this right pequeña?” your sister tugs at the sleeve of your hoodie gently.

“You forgot my birthday, both of you, all of you” you speak in despair. “I know it’s stupid that I still get excited about it but-”

“It’s not stupid” both of them cut you off and you stay quiet at that.

“I always look forward to seeing your excited face on your birthday”

This is when Alexia tries again and she slowly reaches out to grab your hand, but you surprise her as you lean into her body, pulling your sister with you until you end up in a heap of tangled limbs.

“Lo siento mucho mi amor”

“Yo también” your sister adds and a small smile makes its way onto your face.

“Fine, but you owe me a cake” you point to the defender who nods eagerly before you turn to look up at your girlfriend. “And you’ve got other ways to make up for this” the brunette catches onto the suggestive tone in your voice and she grins at you as she leans down to kiss you.

“Ew! I did not need to know that!” your sister jokingly gags and you push her away with a laugh of your own.

The three of you settle into a comfortable silence until you notice a group of people making their way onto the beach. Mapi tugs the two of you up and you stand on your feet with Alexia’s hand gripped in your own as you watch confusedly.

“Feliz cumpleaños bebé León!” your teammates scream as they get to you and a wide smile pulls at your lips as you notice the cake in their hands.

“Well you were quick with that one” you mutter to your sister who only winks back at you.

The twenty-three of you sit on the beach as you celebrate your birthday together, apologies thrown in the air along with further ‘Happy Birthday’s and the smile on your lips never leaves your face.

They might have forgotten your birthday, but they still managed to make the most out of today for you and you couldn’t be happier to have such a great group of friends.

“Te amo Ale”

“Te amo mucho mi amor” she tells you fondly as she kisses you and the two of you smile into the kiss as the girls cheer you on.

“Not in front of me Y/N!”

“What? I have to watch you and Ingrid kiss all the time too!”

#woso imagine #alexia putellas imagine #futbol16 #mapi leon x reader

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helloliriels · 4 months

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Speaking of The Goes Wrong Show ...

S4 has to be my favourite season ...

(Guess who just started watching this show? Omg, my ribs hurt from laughing so hard, ty to whoever rec The Pilot Episode (not the pilot episode)) this week! Ofc Cabbage Rosie had to be included for @barachiki 🪄 (happy birthday)

(ps. water is a b*tch to make. I'm never doing it again 😂) @johnlocky @chinike @rhasima @fluffbyday-smutbynight @whatnext2020 @masterofhounds @missdeliadili @mutedsilence @meetinginsamarra @chriscalledmesweetie @arwamachine @discordantwords @calaisreno @totallysilvergirl @youcouldcallmegus @safedistancefrombeingsmart @dragonnan @solarmama @bertytravelsfar @sarahthecoat @7-percent @a-victorian-girl @gregorovitchworld @demonicangeling @marta-bee @janetm74 @sgam76 @impalaparkedat221b @colourfulwatson @glows-n-the-dark @ninasnakie @kettykika78 @khorazir @raina-at @topsyturvy-turtely @13monkton @sabsi221b @ohnoesnotagain @pocketwatchofmycroft @egregiously-chuffed @keirgreeneyes @deelaundry @jobooksncoffee @anyway-kindness @iamjustreading @johnlockismyreligion @lisbeth-kk @john-smiths-jawline @i-call-me-clarence

I have phone wallpaper format of this, should anyone want it 📱

#the goes wrong show #bbc sherlock #sherlock #helloliriels #lockout films #now with 400% more cabbage!#_large

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freakazoidfuc · 1 year

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Sugar

Joel Miller x F! Reader

Summary: You wandered off without letting anyone know. Joel doesn't like that one bit and decides that he's had enough of your loud mouth.

+18 smut

p.s. don't like this at all but I felt bad for not posting after my last one, so here's this, dunno what it is but hope you like it, might or might not be writing something with tlou2 game Ellie ;)

The days had begun to blend together. You didn’t know if it was Monday or Saturday. You didn’t even keep track of what month it was. All you knew was that it was winter. Living in New York had prepared you for this, while it was cold in Massachusetts, you felt like nothing compared to the winters in Brooklyn.

You remember running around outside of the apartments. Playing with your neighbor's pitbull and scraping your knee because said pitbull kept chasing you around. You remember the sweet laughter that came from your mom when you told her what had happened. Oh your mom, how you miss your sweet mom and her voice, though the sound of her voice is starting to become a fog in your mind.

You lost your mom on outbreak day. You had just turned 17 the day before, September 25, 2003. You remember that last day so vividly. Your mom took that week off because she wanted to spend more time with you. Luckily you had a few days off from school so you were home those days too. It was Thursday and you were sound asleep. In the kitchen was your mom preparing you a birthday breakfast.

She came into your room singing ‘Las Mañanitas’ in the loudest voice she could muster. You woke up abruptly from the noise but once you found out what it was, you started laughing uncontrollably. You covered your face with your hands out of embarrassment, never knowing what to do when someone sang you happy birthday. Your mom was recording you with her big bulky camera.

“Mami stop, I'm too old for this!” You exclaim, your laughter dying down a little as she sits beside you in your messy bed. She leans over and plants a kiss on your forehead. “Happy birthday mi amor”. She picks up a sliced mango from the plate she made you and plops it in your mouth.

“Omg mami, it's so good” Your eyes roll back from the sweetness of the fruit. Mangos have always been your favorite fruit and your mom always makes a dish that has something to do with mangoes on your birthday. Last year it was pancakes with mango hearts on top. Today it was chocolate-covered mangos. “I got them from the little market on the corner of 8th Street. Marta said they just came in, so they're extra fresh just for you!” She says happily, admiring you.

She sighs deeply and suddenly her face turns into one of glum. She grabs the plate from you and places it on your bedside table, she suddenly engulfs you in a tight hug. “My baby’s all grown up” she whispers in your ear.

“Aww mami, it’s okay. You know I'm not leaving you anytime soon. I love you mami, thank you for always giving me what you could, and for never abandoning me even after Dad left, I know that was hard for us but especially for you. I’m so proud. You’re the best mommy ever. Te amo”.

That was the last full conversation you remember having with your mom. It's been 20 years since then. You're now 37 walking down the streets of a gated community. The streets are completely stripped of any life form, that's not a surprise though, it's been like that for the past few years. The wind is slapping your face, causing tears to form in your eyes. There's garbage just scurrying the streets. No noise, just the whistles of the wind and your footsteps. You hadn't gone on a walk like this for a long time, despite everything it's quite peaceful.

You just showered in Bill and Franks’s house, You're shivering from your wet hair, and if your mom was around she would have scolded you for it. You look around at this rural town, the few stores it had, and the empty houses that decorate the streets. It dawns on you that you can't even remember what life was like before the outbreak. Life is just being on the run, killing and surviving. You know nothing else.

You’ve stopped in the middle of the street and closed your eyes. Trying to imagine what you would have been doing now in your life if none of this would've happened. You begin to imagine yourself in Brooklyn, you're married with a baby boy. Your mom is in the living room watching your baby boy, as you cook. Life would've been so great. But you can't help but think, what if it was all supposed to happen like this? What if this was the plan all along?

You’ve always been a firm believer of “things happen for a reason” but with everything that's happened, you've questioned your beliefs. You were raised religiously. Every Sunday you’d go to mass with your mom. And you were taught that God had plans for all of you, that he does everything for a reason, and that he’ll only give you things you can handle. But this? To you, this isn't something you could handle. How could you have worshiped someone that caused such great disaster to humankind?

You just don't know what and who to believe in anymore.

You were so immersed in your thoughts that you didn't hear the footsteps that were approaching. But somehow even so caught up in thought, you still had that sixth sense that drove your mother crazy. Within a second you pulled your gun out of the back of your jeans and pointed at whoever was behind you.

The scene you have painted is quite funny. Your gun pointed straight at Joel Miller. Once your brain has fully registered that it's in fact Joel and not some infected, you lower the gun down and place it in the back of your jeans, a habit you picked up from Joel.

“Jesus Joel! You can’t just sneak up on me like that”. You play the dramatics out so Joel could feel bad for you, or get him to show some emotion.

Since you met Joel like 5 months ago, he’s said very little and shown very little emotion. The only time you've ever seen a sliver of emotion is when he's with Ellie. It’s the only time he ever seems real. You see the way Ellie is starting to warm that grump's heart. But Ellie kind of has that effect on people, especially with those dumb puns she likes to tell you every chance she gets. She’s a good kid, so good that you feel terrible for what she’s gone through, she doesn't deserve all the bad she’s gotten. You don't know how much time you’ll spend with Ellie but you’re gonna try your hardest to give her a bit of normalcy, well as normal as you can in the world you live in.

“What did I tell you about wandering by yourself? If you want to leave, tell me first”. Joel scolds you. Let's just say it's not the first time you've left without a word. He got really upset at you that time. You swore that forehead vein was going to explode. He got all up in your face, saying that you can’t just wander around without him, that he needs to know where you are at all times, blah blah you have to learn to be responsible, more blah and blah about getting yourself killed.

Just to shut him up, you promised you wouldn't do it again, but… well here you are.

“Um, not to do it?” You end it with a questioning tone. He starts nodding his head at you, moving a few steps forward. “Right, and where are we right now y/n?”

His tone is serious and harder than usual.

“Dude, you're acting like I'm a kid, I'm not that much younger than you. I don't have to tell you where I'm going, I can protect myself”. You roll your eyes at him and cross your arms in front of your chest. You see Joel clench his jaw and his eyes moving from one of your eyes to the other.

“Oh trust me, sweetheart, I know you're not a kid” What the hell is that supposed to mean? “But the way you just walk out of the house with not at least letting Ellie know where you're going, is you acting like a fucking kid, is it so hard to do what I fucking tell you?”

You scoff at him, not believing the words that are coming out of his mouth. “Joel be fucking serious for once, will you? Where the fuck am I gonna go? Huh, tell me. There's nowhere to go. I don’t have to tell you where I’m going because frankly there’s nowhere to fucking go! you’re not my fucking dad, okay? So don’t come here yelling at me like I’m some helpless fucking kid”

That was a lot of fucks

At this point you’re yelling at him, you've moved closer to him. You hadn’t realized until you noticed your finger on his chest. You quickly remove it and storm away back into Bill and Frank's house, without letting Joel say anything else. You’ve truly had it. You can't handle Joel treating you like a kid. You're 37 for god's sake. You’d think he would take that into account.

Once you're in the house, you hear the shower running. Ellie, she must still be wondering where you are. You head to the bathroom door and knock softly. “Ellie?”

“Y/n?” Ellie yells from the other side of the door.

“Yeah babe it's me, hey sorry about not telling you I left. I just went on a walk”. On the other side, Ellie’s eyebrows furrow into confusion. “Oh, I hadn't known you left, but thanks for telling me”

“But Joel said-”

Just then you hear his loud footsteps coming up the stairs. “Ellie I’ll be in the room, Let me know if you need anything”. As you walk away you hear the faint okay from Ellie.

You quickly shut the door and stand by the windowsill. You know he’s probably going to come inside to yell at you some more because it seems that’s all he can do. You face the window. Your back to the door. The doorknob jiggles, it's an old house so things get a bit jammed. Joel finally got the door open, he steps and gently shuts the door. Your heart starts to pump faster.

While you didn’t want to admit it, Joel makes you nervous. Not in an “I’m scared, he'll hurt me” kind of way but more because you think he's a hot grump that doesn't know how attractive he is kind of way. Yeah, Joel makes you want to pull out your hair but, you can’t deny that his overprotectiveness over you doesn't make you feel things you shouldn't. Especially because you think Joel just sees you as some kid who doesn't know what to do on their own.

The first time you met Joel a couple of months ago was when he found you and Ellie together in that abandoned apartment where the fireflies had set camp. He was on his own looking for a car battery or something. You were on your way out to meet with the others to start the journey to Boulder, which is where the University of Eastern Colorado is located at. There are doctors there that have claimed to help create a cure with the help of Ellie. You were skeptical at first, but if Marlene believes it, then there has to be some truth to it.

He thought you were infected and tried to kill you, Marlene stepped in and explained to Joel what was going on. She was hurt before Joel came in. One of the fireflies somehow got infected and went crazy on the rest of the members in the complex. She had to fight him off, and while she didn’t get bit, the infected had toppled her into a piece of glass and she was bleeding heavily.

You knew she wasn't going to make it, she was bleeding too much and you had nothing to help her. You felt absolutely useless, just standing there covering Ellie so she wouldn't see what had happened to Marlene. You knew Ellie couldn't handle seeing another loss.

The last thing Marlene muttered was for Joel. She asked him to promise to take you and Ellie to the ruins of Boston and that the fireflies there would provide him with a car so he could take it to wherever he had to go.

While they were talking, you took Joel's look in. He was older, had salt and pepper hair, taller than you, and very broad but soft at the same time. He was very sweaty and dirty, but that weirdly made you think he looked 10 times better. Once he agreed, you knew you were in trouble. You knew that when you developed a crush it wasn’t gonna go away anytime soon. That's exactly what happened.

You remember that one time in the resort when the floor was flooded with water. He jumped in to prove to Ellie that the water was shallow. But all you could seem to notice was the way his shirt clung to his body. You don't know if he caught you, but if he did he didn’t say anything. Moral of the story, your little school girl on Joel never went away and while you hated when he screamed at you, you couldn't ignore the warmth you felt when he got all angry and up in your face.

You feel Joel's eyes on you, burning holes through you. Your breathing starts to get heavy. Joel was quick to notice that, more of the reason why he brought himself closer to you. You felt the heat of his body bouncing to your back. Joel sighed before letting himself talk. “Y/n?”

You won’t give in easily, no. If he wants to apologize you're gonna make him work for it. Joel moves in closer to you, to try to get you to give in. He’s always known. He's caught you sneaking glances at him, your eyes glued to him, but he never acted on it, he also believed it was his delusions getting to him. He hasn't had contact with a girl for a long time. You’re the first person that has been with him for a long period of time. How wasn't he supposed to notice you? Not only that, but he thought you were one of the most beautiful girls he’s seen.

“You don't have to talk to me, I just came here to say sorry. I shouldn't have said all that outside. I was just- um I was..”

You didn't understand why it was so hard for Joel to admit that he cared about you. You know you said you weren't giving in but, you had the urge to say something. “You were just what Joel. I don't need your half-assed apology.”

It's like your words made Joel switch from soft-spoken babble to that hard tone he used before, but now it was different. You weren't sure what made it sound different, you just know that there is something else laced in his tone.

“Turn around, and look at me while you talk to me” His words alone had you turn into pure heat. But you didn't want to obey him. He talks to you like he has power over you. That's not something you're going to take.

“Didn't I tell you to stop telling me what to do Joel?” You turn to face him, the look on his face alone made you want to pull your hair out. His pupils were blown out, his face a little flush probably from the cold outside, and veins popping out everywhere. From his neck to his fists.

What you didn’t expect was for him to grab your face forcefully. So hard that your lips were being squished together. “I’d watch that fucking tone sugar”

Those fucking pet names, why can’t he just say your name like a fucking normal person

“I’ve let it slip before but a pretty girl like you shouldn’t have such a filthy mouth, you listen here. You want to be treated like an adult?” He’s looking at you waiting for a response. There’s no way you can physically move your mouth so you just nod.

“Yeah?” he mocks you.

“So start fucking acting like one, stop with your temper tantrums. Bratty don’t look good on you sweetheart”.

Why is this making you horny?

Suddenly you’re not the loud-mouthed girl, you feel yourself slip into a submissive headspace. You wanna obey and definitely not make him mad, though it is a good look on him.

He starts to feel a bit guilty for yelling at you but that quickly dissipates when he sees your pupils blown out and glazed over. He scoffs and lets go of your face. Your hand comes up to gently rub on where he was gripping you. He didn’t hurt you, just now you miss his touch.

“You like that, don’t you? Like when I yell at you, hm?”

Didnt even have to say anything. You gave yourself away when you brought your body closer to his. You’re looking up at him with glazed doe eyes. Asking for something without actually saying anything.

Joel completely gets rid of any space between you and him. He encloses your jaw with his big hand. Tilts your head to be looking directly at him. He brings his face close to yours, you can feel his breath fan across your face. You try to reach his lips but he pulls away a bit, just enough to make a huff release from your mouth.

“You’re a big girl, right? Use your words and tell me what you want”

“I want you” You mumble, a sudden wave of shyness engulfing you. He raises his eyebrow, in a fake confused face. “Hm? Can’t hear you darlin’, gon have to speak up” His smirk prominent as ever.

You put on your sweetest smile, and the sweetest tone ever for him, “Joel I want you”

And because Joel is well Joel, that’s not enough for him, he made you say it one more time before you couldn’t handle it and pushed yourself and smashed your lips onto his. His hands leave your jaw and immediately roaming and touching what he could, if it’s not him groping your ass, it’s him smoothing his hands across your back.

Knew he was an ass man!

He’s pulling you up by your thighs, now your legs around his waist. Your cunt pressed directly on his hard-on. The friction he created caused a slight whimper to escape you. Which riled him up, You feel him walking towards the bed. He breaks the kiss to throw you on the bed.

“Gonna do what I’ve always wanted to”

Warmth has spread everywhere, and you just hope that that wetness you feel in your panties hasn’t seeped through your jeans, you know Joel wouldn’t let that go.

You get up on your elbows, watching him through hooded eyes. You haven’t done anything but you already feel drunk on him, he makes you feel woozy.

He kneels before you, almost like a lion silently stalking toward its prey. Made your heart go crazy, you can feel your cunt throbbing just at the sight of him. He gently spreads your legs apart so he can get in between them. Placing kisses on your jean-clad legs.

“Gonna take these off alright”

You nod at him, you haven’t said much because you honestly can’t believe this is happening. All those nights you’ve spent with your hand down your pants, palming away your ache with this exact picture in mind, and now it’s actually happening.

He slowly peels your jeans off, admiring your black lace panties.

Thank fuck for that fully stocked victoria secret you stumbled across during a hunt

“Fuck, don’t know how good you look right now. All pretty and perched just waiting for me to have a taste of you”

He’s going too slow, and doesn’t know much you can handle. You just need him to fuck you already. Need to feel him in you. It’s all you want.

“J-Joel c’mon you’re torturing me”

“There’s that mouth, been too quiet” He chuckles, leaving wet kisses on your thighs. He is so close to where you need him. While you wanna make him proud, you are still the same person, submissive or not you gotta throw in a quip.

“Thought my mouth was too filthy for you, didn’t think you liked it?”

He didn’t like that though, instead of a kiss, he bit into your soft skin. Making you whimper and squirm in his grip. He quickly pressed a kiss where he but you.

“Different between being mouthy and bratty. Love your mouth. Could hear you moaning and whimpering for me all day. Jus’ don’t like when you get that bratty attitude”

“Makes me wanna fuck it out of you”

His word has you bucking your hips for a bit of friction. “So do it, Joel, fuck the brattiness out of me”

You yelp when he rips your panties off you. Hey! Those are the only cute ones you had. Immediately pressing his hot mouth to where you wanted him. Because you didn’t expect it, a loud moan comes out of your mouth. Your legs try to close but he grips your thighs apart.

“This what you wanted, huh? Wanted me to eat this pretty little cunt out? Treat you like the filthy brat you are. Hm?”

His words only spur you on, grinding your cunt on his face. “Y-yes Joel, ugmh- feels so good”

He doesn’t stop, lapping his tongue up and down. Sucking your clit like it was candy. “Taste so good sugar, I could stay like this all day”

While it felt good, it wasn’t enough. “Need more Joel, n-not enough please” You whine. Needing something else. His mouth doesn’t stop, but you feel his hand leave your thigh. He brings his fingers to your mouth. You knew just what to do, you took his two fingers and sucked on them. Swirling your tongue around both of them coating his finger with your saliva. He removes his fingers and you don’t miss the way his eyes went heavy when the string of spit connected your mouth to his fingers.

“Such a dirty girl”

His fingers tease your entrance, You clenching around nothing. You know you’re close you just need something else. He slowly inserts both his fingers into you. Letting you stretch around his fingers not moving them.

“Joel need- Mmh, you to move. Porfavor- be nice”

He beings to slip them in and out eventually finishing that toe-curling pace. Your hands gripping onto his hair. His grunts vibrate and make you clench around his fingers. You feel that burning sensation in your tummy.

“That’s it, baby, taking my fingers so well, being such a good girl for me”

His mouth and fingers abusing your cunt. Making you scream his name.

“Joel, gonna c-cum, faster”

He slowed his fingers, making you whine. “Your manners baby, don’t forget em”

Once you muttered please he went ham on you. His tongue circling your clit, his fingers fucking you relentlessly. His other hand released your thigh and palmed your tits under your shirt, pinching your pebbled nipples. The new sensation brings you to your limit.

You feel your tummy tightening. Joel feels you tensing.

“C’mon baby let it go, You’re doing so good. Just hold on a little more for me”

“C-cant Joel!

“He pumps his fingers a few more times and you realize your sweet juices are all over his fingers. Making a sticky mess all over his face. He doesn’t mind, in fact, he’s bringing his fingers to taste you more, not wasting a bit of you.

You’ve splayed yourself on the bed, chest breathing heavily.

Joel licks you a bit more and cleans you up before properly cleaning you up. You squirm. Pulling Joel off you by his hair. “Ah! Joel, still sensitive”

“Sorry sugar, just can’t get enough of ya” He leans in for a kiss and you immediately warm up again.

“If I knew this is what it took to shut your bratty mouth up, would’ve done it a long time ago”.

#pedro pascal #joel miller #Joel x reader #Joel miller smut #tlou #age gap Joel miller

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