#in my view it still deserves to be docked points for that but like they did pop off nonetheless

[ist4rgirlo]

────────── 𝐢𝐧𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 - 𝐜.𝐟

ONE SHOT !

they did say that when two people are meant to be together, they will eventually find a way back to each other. however, are you ready to open your heart again to a person who has broken it in the past?

SEQUEL TO : you’re losing me

───────────────────────────

“They say that your first love never dies. You can put out the flame but not the fire”

It was true, for me atleast. I’d be lying if I said that I don’t love Conrad, because I do, I still do — no matter how much he had hurt me before, a piece of my heart is still beating for him.

Time, curious time

Gave me no compasses, gave me no signs

Were there clues I didn't see?

And isn't it just so pretty to think

It wasn’t easy to move on, he made me feel things — things that I never felt before. He was different, he just was.

For two years, I had done my best to put the past behind me, but still, I would often find myself thinking of Conrad and wondering what could have been.

Until one day, when an unexpected text message popped up on my phone. It was from Conrad, of all people. Confused but curious, I opened the message. The only thing that it said was 'Are you free today?’ Could he possibly still care about me, after all this time?

A string that pulled me

Out of all the wrong arms right into that dive bar

Something wrapped all of my past mistakes in barbed wire

Chains around my demons, wool to brave the seasons

One single thread of gold tied me to you

I thought back to the words we had said to each other; the heartache that had been so painful that it had taken so long for me to move on. But still, here he was, wanting to see me. Was I willing to open my heart up to someone who had broken it so badly in the past?

───────────────────────────

Conrad asked me if we could meet at the beach near Cousins. I dont know why why I said yes, maybe I wanted closure — maybe I wanted to hear his side.

I stood on the dock, the ocean air getting caught in my hair. Although the sun was out and the sky a brilliant blue,

I couldn't bring myself to take in the beauty of the day. I was too consumed with my thoughts, instead glancing around, distracted and flustered.

I saw Conrad — standing at the end of the shore, a better vision than the view of the ocean I had become accustomed to.

I swallowed hard as I stared into his eyes - the same eyes that had shattered my heart months ago. He looked different. Older, strong, different from the man I had said goodbye to all those months ago.

But there he was, standing in front of me, arms crossed — pain pierced through me like a hot knife as I remembered fond memories I shared with him. Memories that were now tarnished by the hurt he had caused me.

I took a deep breathe and stepped forward — walking towards him.

“Hey Conrad,” I said tentatively.

He looked up with surprise, then quickly looked away. “Hey y/n,” he muttered.

“It’s been so long huh?” Conrad asked. I looked at him before answering “Yeah, It has. I just want to get to the point already. Why did you want to see me?” I asked him.

His eyes met mine, filled with regret and longing. "I never stopped thinking about you," he confessed, his voice laced with raw emotion.

I listened, my heart warring between the past and the present. Memories flooded my mind - stolen kisses, whispered promises, and the crushing pain of betrayal. And yet, beneath it all, the flicker of what once was remained.

"You broke me," I replied, my voice steadying.

Conrad reached out to gently touch my cheek, sending a shiver down my spine. "Please, Y/n," he pleaded, his voice filled with desperation. "What I did was fucked up, you didn’t deserve that — you didn’t deserve to be ignored, I-I should’ve paid more attention to you”

"I messed up, I admit it. I was a fool to let you go. I've regretted it every single day, and I wish I could turn back time and change things." He said, taking a step closer.

I blinked back tears, trying to resist the pull I felt towards him. "Conrad, it's not that easy. You hurt me so deeply, and I've spent so long trying to heal." I said, backing away from him.

"I know," he murmured, his voice cracked with emotion. "But I'm here now, and all I want is a chance to make things right, to prove to you that I've changed. I want to be better for you.”

His words tugged at my heartstrings, and I felt a glimmer of hope. Could we really find a way back to each other? Was it possible to rebuild what had been broken?

Time, wondrous time

Gave me the blues and then purple pink skies

And it's cool, baby, with me

The sound of crashing waves filled the silence between us, punctuating the weight of the moment. I looked into Conrad's eyes, searching for sincerity, I’m scared — scared of risking again. Scared of getting hurt again.

“I-I don’t know, Conn-“ I said looking down, he walked closer — his hands reaching for mine.

“I don’t want you to feel pressured or anything, just.. just let me love you. Let me be a better man for you.” he paused “I’ll wait for you”

And isn't it just so pretty to think

All along there was some

Invisible string

Tying you to me?

I looked up at him, I saw the glint in his eyes — he was genuine, his voice sounded hopeful — his eyes filled with love. It wouldn’t hurt if I tried again right? maybe now, it’ll be right.

#Spotify #tsitp #tsitp conrad #conrad fisher #conrad fisher imagine #conrad fisher x you #conrad fisher fanfic #conrad fisher fic #conrad fisher x reader #the summer i turned pretty #tsitp imagine #tsitp fic #tsitp fanfic #conrad fisher fluff #conrad fisher x y/n #conrad fisher angst #abtconrad fics #taylor swift

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

So I’m mostly curious about this for Muriel’s sake (he’s my favorite) but I have an HC request for if the M6, whether through a dream or magic, got to talk with their past selves from the darkest point in their lives, what would they say? Try to comfort/cheer themselves up? Assuming everyone got their Upright endings.

The Arcana HCs: M6 talking to their past selves

~ this is such an interesting one, @httyd-chocolate! thank you for the request, I hope you like what I do with it! (for hc purposes, this occurs as a magical dream where past and present selves interact) - brainrot ~

Julian

The dream is so vivid that he doesn't realize what it is until it's over

But right now, he's staring down at this gangly, scared, insecure almost-teenager, and every heroic bone in his body is telling him that this boy deserves all the safety and support in the world

It's weird to hear his young self saying the same deprecating things that he still does, but the jokes that normally make him laugh don't sound funny at all coming from a kid

And before he knows it, all the words he's heard you and Portia and Mazelinka say to him are spilling out of his mouth

"You're not alone. People are fortunate to be around you. You only drag everyone around you down when you refuse to let them lift you up. Sticking around to see the future is worth it."

At the same time, seeing himself in that kid's eyes is world-altering

Because to that younger self, the man he is now is smart, and heroic, and important, and somebody worth growing up to be

They stroll down to the seaside, at one point, as Julian listens to tiny Ilya's frustrations with his sister, and himself, and not knowing who he is or what comes next besides a call away from home

"You're pretty cool, mister," Ilya says at one point, "who are you?"

"I'm you," Julian says, and the look of hope and surprised delight he sees on Ilya's face makes him wake up with tears in his eyes

Asra

They know where they are as soon as the back alleys of the South End swim into view. They don't expect to see themself though

He's caught glimpses of the past once or twice, with you by his side, but those were moments of a childhood of wonder and escape. The kid in front of him hasn't found that magic yet

Little Asra is hiding in a corner behind a trash heap, clutching their lost mother's shawl and trying to hide the sniffles that shake their thin shoulders. Though all that disappears when they spot Big Asra

Suddenly, he's being scrutinized with the most curious gaze, and there's no hiding who he is. So he joins hands with him and starts wandering around, paying for lots of street food along the way

They'd forgotten how many questions they used to ask people

Until one hits him out of nowhere: "what's it like for us now?"

They don't want to leave that scared, lonely kid without something to look forward to, so they play with the dream a bit and lead Little Asra to a familiar magic shop a few streets away from the town square

In the dream, you're dozing by the fire, tea and snacks waiting on the table, and Big Asra watches his child self gaze at you in awe and remember what home feels like

It's sobering, to lead that child back to the docks and tuck them in to sleep under the pier, but it's a glimpse of warmth they're glad they got to share

Nadia

She has a suspicion of what's going on when she opens her eyes in her childhood bedroom, and that suspicion is confirmed when her 14-year-old self storms in and slams the door shut

She's ready to provide a haven. A listening ear. Ready to tell the young woman in front of her that she's right, that she's ready for more, that being held back and dismissed like this really isn't fair

Until the 14-year-old opens her mouth and starts to unload her day

For the first time in years, Nadia's not sure what to say. Does she want to tell this young woman that she's right, her parents and older sisters are being overprotective and unreasonable? Yes!

But does she find herself agreeing that a 14-year-old should not be allowed to go off to the battlefield her older sibling is serving as a medic on to lead the army to victory herself? ... yes ...

Does the embarrassed, hurting, angry teen in front of her need to know that? Absolutely not. So Nadia listens and nods instead

There are other things she sees that she realizes she remembers correctly. The fear of not measuring up. The frustration of having to wait to meet the milestones her siblings have already passed

So she tells this precocious, prickly young woman what you've been seeing in her all along: she is strong. She is smart. She is someone worth having faith in, and she doesn't need to be afraid

Muriel

He doesn't have to think twice. As soon as he sees that big, bony lad that was himself in his early twenties, huddled in a cell under the Coliseum after his first fight, he's breaking him out of there

He starts to wonder if this is a dream, when the iron bars give way under his grasp, but he's focusing on wrapping his cloak around those shivering shoulders and leading him out of the city

He's forgotten how scrawny he'd been before he bulked up on the meals provided for Lucio's prized fighter, and seeing spatters of his first opponent's blood on such a boyish face breaks his heart

They're both silent on the way through the woods. The younger him is still in shock, and the older him isn't sure what to do next

When the reach the clearing, the hut is more like what older him is used to. He helps young Muriel into the outside bath and begins putting together a hearty stew for the two of them to share

They both stay quiet. Older him watches every flinch and start and quiet pause of happiness and safety and keeps realizing that he deserves better. He deserves good things. I want him to have that.

They both turn bright red when younger him notices that the bed has two pillows on it, but they both know that that's a good thing

When the time comes for them to wake up, Muriel wraps that kid up in his arms. "... it gets better. Promise. You deserve it."

Portia

This is trippy, but after what she's been through with you, Portia guesses this is just par for the course. Why is she in Nevivon?

Her question is answered when a nine-year-old girl comes careening around the corner, fiery curls flying, just in time to collide with her and go sprawling in the dust by the road

Oh, Portia thinks, I remember being like this. I remember her.

Portia watches Pasha pick herself up, lower lip trembling with rage and eyes full of tears, getting ready to lash out at whoever just ripped her dress and made her day go from awful to terrible

And she pulls that little girl into the tightest hug she can manage

Once Pasha's made good use of the handkerchief she's been handed, she takes Portia's hand and shows her around town

She tells Portia all about her life right now. About the grandmas who take care of her, and the parents she doesn't remember

And she talks and talks and talks about her amazing older brother, the last family she has, who left several months ago to explore the world and find adventure and save people - without her

Portia listens and comments, but she keeps getting distracted looking at the strong, clear-eyed, purposeful little girl next to her

So she spends the rest of her visit telling that kid that she's strong, she's interesting, she's exciting, and she is so, so very important, even when it's just her

Lucio

He's back in the frozen woods. He doesn't like the frozen woods

And neither, apparently, does the six year old boy across from him

At first he's just concerned. Why is a small child alone in the freezing cold? He needs to help them get safe and warm

Then he recognizes the golden head of hair, and the big, silver eyes staring up at him, and the nose red from cold, and he has to bite his tongue to keep from yelling as he starts a fire and asks for a name

He likes having a different name, he realizes, when he gets to introduce himself as Lucio the Adventurer to little Montag

Montag, he learns, is alone on a quest to hunt down a bear per his mother's instructions, but he's cold and hungry and frightened

To Montag, Lucio is a hero. He's big and strong and has a cool arm and builds a fire to keep him warm and listens to him talk about how he wants to be a leader when he grows up, without scoffing at his dreams

So the two of them huddle together by the fire under one of the trees, sharing a cloak and talking about who they are

Lucio hears the beginnings of his downfall already in Montag's stories about growing up stronger than everyone so the people in his family and his tribe will have no choice but to praise him

And Montag hears humility and hope from Lucio, about the importance of recognizing mistakes and learning to love and be loved

#ask arcana brainrot #the arcana #the arcana headcanons #the arcana hc #asra the arcana #julian the arcana #nadia the arcana #muriel the arcana #portia the arcana #lucio the arcana #the arcana game #the arcana fluff #the arcana angst #asra alnazar #julian devorak #nadia satrinava #muriel of the kokhuri #portia devorak #lucio morgasson

[mid13s]

hey guys! (with the intentions of having you read my fantasy byler AU “Exile”)

heres a pre-view of chapter 1 🥰 (words: 1394/4227)

-

“Get back!”

Mike seemed to scream at the sky. The fog closed in, thick and wet, and coated his face in its slick spray. He gripped a spear in his clammy hand so hard his knuckles were white, exposing the bone underneath.

The monster flew overhead, its gaping mouth stained with the blood of his men. It turned to face the boat and hissed, exposing its sword like teeth which had to have been the same length as Mike’s arm. Its hollow eyes glowed behind the haze.

Mike acted fast; raising his spear and launching it towards the creature's open mouth. It caught in the back of its throat, shearing its tongue from the root, and came out of the other side, slamming into nearby rock with the sharp clang of bronze. The creature’s wings flailed helplessly in an attempt to fly through the narrowed rock.

Mike heard Lucas crying orders as the monster came crashing down into the front of the boat. Its heavy head hit the dock, cracking the floorboards beneath it. Dustin had spent the morning oiling down the boards to avoid them from creaking but it was proven useless; the monster could smell them anyway.

The creature's mass weighed down the ship, sending immense amounts of water to seep into the boat's deck. The party scrambled back as their boat sank.

“We have to get it off the deck!” He heard Max scream behind him. Mike grabbed a spear and ordered the others to do the same. A mix of blood and water flooded his boots as he made his way towards the monster's head. Its dyspneic breathing reeked of the rotted flesh which clung to its teeth.

Mike aimed his spear under the creature's head in an attempt to lift it off the deck. The party also added the spears to the dead weight and lifted. Mike turned his head to the others and the gut wrenching realization set in; They were the only one’s still living. The dock was soaked in the fresh and old blood of his comrades. Mike turned back to face the monster who slayed his men and burning anguish rose in his chest. With a grunt, he raised his spear and stabbed the creature in the face and pushed.

The monster's limp body flopped off the deck with a splash that drenched his party. Waves crashed into the boat as the weight was lifted off the end of the deck. Mike dropped to his knees and dragged himself away from the edge as he tried to grasp his breath. His forehead was slick with sweat and the sickening mixture of blood and water sloshed around underneath him.

Dustin crashed down next to him. “Holy shit.” That came muffled through Mike’s ears along with the labored breathing of his party, who lay behind him. Lucas held Max in his arms, smoothing the hair on her forehead.

Dustin got their boat steady again, guiding it carefully through the ragged rocks and other wrecked ships who hadn't been as prosperous. The others had pulled out their bedrolls and sleep soon overcame them.

Given his experience, Dustin was on watch first and in charge of keeping the boat in the right direction. Mike approached him, noting how exhausted he looked.

“I can take watch. You deserve sleep.” Mike spoke.

Dustin sat with his lyre in his lap, his fingers moving across the strings as a weavers would their thread. “No, I assure you I am fine. After all your effort today, It would be heedless to ask you of that. Take the bedroll there.” He pointed toward the bedroll which lay beside him. Mike wanted to protest but Dustin started to play a tune, soft and sweet and Mike soon found himself overwhelmed with sleep.

❋ ❋ ❋

Mike awoke alone, with heavy limbs and aching muscles. The wind carried through the boat's edges was sweet and sultry and the sun illuminated above him, warming the bronze that covered his back. He lifted himself into his elbows and looked around over the edge of the boat. He was on the shore of what he assumed was an island. Huge trees with fresh, juicy apricots hanging from their branches were scattered around the island. Behind him was the open ocean, nothing in sight besides the mountains which were miles away. The tide came in and out and he watched as the sand absorbed the water as the tide drew back.

Mike stood up, armor creaking with the shifting weight. He pried his helmet off his head, his sweat slick hair clinging to it. He tossed it to the side with a huff. He grabbed his sword and slid it into the sheath strap on his hip.

Stepping out of the boat carefully, he was met by plush flowers that pooled around his ankles. He looked back at the boat. The front was demolished because of the monster. He was surprised Dustin had made it so far given the state of their boat. Where were they? Mike thought. He hadn't heard them leave or anything–they were simply gone.

Mike placed his hands on the small of his back and bent rearwards, receiving some sharp pops in response. He exhaled through his nose and continued his walk through the forest. Birds sang their soothing lullabies from their spots in the trees and the gentle wind wrapped around his curls.

Up ahead, he heard footsteps. They were quick and close together; running. Mike took a step back and unsheathed his sword, raising it with both hands. He clammed up, breathing through his nose. The quick footfall got louder, closer and Mike gripped his sword, eyes locked toward the direction in which the sound was coming from.

A girl with burning red hair ran toward him, her golden bracelets clinking together as her arms moved back and forward. The bottom of her white skirt was caked with mud.

“Mike!” It was Max.

“Max, are you alright?” He lowered his sword.

She caught up to him, panting. She glanced behind her nervously but from what Mike could see, no one was following her. She turned back to him, eyebrows furrowed.

“We–we found a palace and,” She gasped, “and we heard this voice—a wonderful, lively voice–singing, but there was something—someone—lurking inside.”

Mike studied her carefully. “What did the palace hide?”

“A man. He–he offered us rest and food. I was skeptical but followed Lucas and Dustin inside. They sat down and he offered them watered-wine but when they drank it..” She paused, her eyes darting across Mike's face.”

“Max,” Mike spoke carefully, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“He did something to the wine Mike. He changed them.”

“Changed them how?”

Max glanced behind her once more, fresh sweat dripping down her temple. The loose hairs from her braid clung to her face and neck. “While they ate, they began to grow shouts and cloven hooves. He turned them from men to pigs. Mike, we must do something.

“We’ll have to fight this..man.” Mike spoke, glancing out towards the woods.

“No!” Fear flashed in her eyes. “No, we can not. This is unlike anything we’ve faced before; the gods, and monsters have nothing to compare. We are weak to a power such as his.” Max spoke fast, seemingly in one breath.

Mike clenched his sword. “Where are they now?”

“The pen. He led them there. He watched me run, Mike. He knew I was getting help. He is not stupid, he knows someone is coming for him.”

Mike straightened his posture. Fear swelled in him as he glanced into the forest, now knowing what lay inside. “Did he go back into the palace?”

Max nodded, swallowing her nerves down.

“Okay, you need to go back to the pen and watch over Dustin and Lucas, make sure they are not harmed. Grab a spear in the boat,” He gestured behind him, “and make sure he does not come out again. I will follow close behind but we don’t want him knowing you came for me, but for the spear alone.”

Max blinked, processing. “Okay.” She regarded him once more before setting her attention on the boat back on shore. Mike watched her as she grabbed a spear from the chest. She made her way back up to him, nodded, and headed back towards the palace.

-

I hope you enjoyed chapter 1 so far! i have NO idea when this is coming out (I'm debating on finishing it in its entirety and then post a chapter every Friday) but i know it will be start getting posted around May-July. Also keep in mind that this is a draft so it going to be pretty shitty.

@will80sbyers @unlockedcuriositydoor @sillylittlerock heard u guys were interested 🙏

-

ao3: mid13s

character playlists:

#i already have like five chapters written #Its gonna be split up into sagas #the karidá saga #the pythia saga #and the vecna saga #the playlists will make more sense as the fic progresses #but it's a nice way to get a feel of this universes mike and will #byler #will byers #mike wheeler #stranger things #fanfic #cleradin #< vibes tbh #wiseheart #Spotify

[abysscronica]

Do you think One Piece is a political anime?

I guess it depends what you mean by "political"?

I've always thought there's a curious duality in OP: it definitely portrays a lot of politics, showing many different facets and crafting complex political and social dynamics among various states/ethnicities/races. AND YET it all happens around a main character that just wanna do his own thing and couldn't care less about labelling himself part of any group. Quite the opposite in fact, he wants to be the most free a person can be. His dream is to be a King that rules over nothing and answers to no one. I think it's very poetic.

Granted there's a part of Luffy's dream we don't know yet and Oda chose to keep a secret, so it's possible that may change this image a little bit. For example, if since he was a child Luffy uttered to Ace and Sabo something like "I want to tear down all the barriers of this world", or something to that effect, that would already give him a sort of ideology.

At least this is how I always perceived One Piece, keep in mind politics is not really my forte, so take it with a grain of salt. I'm sure you can find analyses around from people much more versed than me on the matter.

In the story itself, there's a recurring theme of revolution against a totalitarian power (the Revolutionary Army vs. World Government), and you can draw many parallelisms between situations in OP and the real world. The fascinating thing is that Oda presents this struggle from so many points of view! Even though most of the time it's pretty clear which one is the wrong side, the story as a whole doesn't buy into a simplistic vision of "all the good guys vs. all the bad guys".

Let's take Alabasta for example. When we dock there, it's a kingdom torn apart by a mounting revolution against the current monarchy. And yet in this case Oda doesn't really pick a side between the two, does he? Or better, he leaves the choice to the reader. He draws the struggles of the desperate population turned rebels, the passionate strong princess that tries to avoid the war, a king that (in his weakness) loves his people, the old man that stays behind and chooses to have faith. Sure, Oda gives us an actual bad guy, a culprit to blame, the mastermind that orchestrated the misunderstandings behind the crisis. But I don't think this takes away from the depth of the political overview we're met with in the Alabasta arc (on the contrary, it adds layers, as we're certainly not exempt from manipulation behind the scenes in our world).

And then, AND THEN! Oda goes on and offers Crocodile redemption?! Or, once again, putting it into better words: he leaves you free to choose. He goes like: hey, here's Crocodile again, kind of an interesting guy, I've got a lot of lore on him, maybe he's not all bad, in fact he's going to help Luffy now for a bit, oh but he still has his ambitious goals and schemes of course. What will you do? Do you like him now, despite what he did to Vivi and her people? Does this mean that you forgive him?

Oda does that a lot with former villains, in general. Hachi, Bellamy, Bon Clay, Buggy, Caesar Clown (?), etc... they all did horrible things to people. Katakuri killed his servants in cold blood as they begged for their life, just because they saw him eating, and he's one of the most beloved characters ever.

It seems that I'm straying from the topic, but here I circle back: Oda goes as far as offering a possibility for redemption to the most f*cked up character ever, a Celestial Dragon. I'm talking about Mjosgard, of course.

And Mjosgard only has a chance because of Queen Otohime. Through Otohime, Oda shows us a different ideology, a different path to change a broken society (incrementalism maybe?).

Does it work? Was it worth it? Does Mjosgard even deserve it? Will it serve to anything?

Again, you're free to choose your answer. And if that answer is no, then what about Hody Jones killing Otohime? Does the mean justify the ends?

I won't delve into Fishmen Island here because there is waaay too much to unpack, one could write a doctoral dissertation on all the layers, the different personalities, the background, how the past of individuals and societies shapes futures and ideologies. SO many aspects!

Also, also, the possibility for redemption that was given to Mjosgard was given to Orochi too, through Oden, with diametrically opposite results. Why? Was it the trauma? Did Orochi's past break him beyond redemption?

It's horribly sad if you think about it. This would suggest that it's the environment that shapes you. Mjosgard had a chance because he was privileged since birth, whereas Orochi had to live through extreme trauma in his childhood, so he had no chance.

But then Oda goes ahead and flips the cards again! Is it really just the environment? Does the individual account for nothing? Look at Doflamingo and Corazon then. Born nobles all the same, endured trauma all the same, turned out completely different. They were completely different since birth, Corazon even says Doflamingo was born evil (and yet he may be capable of love as it's suggested he truly cares about the closest members of his adopted family).

On another note, what about the Marines? They're the dogs of the WG, the antagonists of the story, many of them are depicted as horrible. But do you hate them all? Koby, Smoker, Tsuru, Garp? Can you hate the category and spare the individuals? Do you condemn all of their ideals?

I could go on and on, there's SO much more to this story. I didn't even mention slavery and human trafficking, another theme very much present in OP. I barely hinted at the fact that racism is also treated. But this post is already long so I'll stop for now.

I am really not suggesting any answer to the questions above here, you pick your own. After all, Luffy overthrows kings and protects princesses. He beats bullies up and then he forgives them. If Oda lets you free to choose, who am I to sway you?

#one piece #eichiro oda #one piece meta

[gotinterest]

EDITED 11/27/2023 TO ACCOUNT FOR MORE WATCHED SEASONS AND FURTHER INSIGHTS FROM REWATCHING. Current list of Kamen Rider Seasons I've either completed or mostly completed in order of how homoerotic I think they are:

Ryuki- It pains me to put Ryuki up this high because of this but two characters have honest to god real canonical evil gay sex in the Rider Time special and that's about as homoerotic as you can get despite how homophobic the scene feels (Tezuka deserved better). But even excluding the gay sex, Ryuki is still pretty homoerotic. Kitaoka and Goro's relationship reads extremely gay to the point where listing specific examples would feel like understating things when you could really just vaguely gesture to literally every interaction they have in the whole show. Tezuka is also lightly gay coded in his backstory. Ren can have a little yaoi break as a treat. Asakura is there (that's homoerotic enough).

OOO- Homoerotic to the point of being a couple sentences away from being canon. Both Ankh/Eiji and Date/Gotou are pretty homoerotic. The actors have really good chemistry with each other and made Some Decisions. There is a moment where Eiji is asked to think about his desire and it hard cuts to a shot of Ankh. Ankh and Eiji have a combined form that is literally rainbow themed in the movie.

Kuuga- Kuuga has gotten bumped up from my last ranking because I read the anniversary novel written from the perspective of Ichijo (by the lead writer of the show) which pretty much solidified my view that Ichijo was intentionally gay coded. They literally have another character bring up that he has gay rumors IN UNIVERSE and he spends the entire novel pining after Godai. This is on top of the homoeroticism in the series itself, such as sleeping on Godai's shoulder, cradling Godai in his arms, all the girlfriend comments, his unwavering loyalty to Godai, etc, etc.

Blade- Blade's reputation for homoeroticism is well earned. However, this is a show where the homoeroticism sneaks up on you. It's not terribly gay until it very much is (which happens well into the show). By the end of the show, Kenzaki and Hajime come across as star-crossed lovers. Their actors seem to agree with that assessment and commissioned couples rings themed around the two characters. Subsequent released story (such as the audio drama and the Zi-O special) further support a gay reading of their relationship.

Faiz/Build-On Build's end, Banjou is literally subjected to explicit homophobia like a couple episodes after a scene where they have a gag of Banjou wondering if Sento is asking him out. The tag line for the show is "A Heated Drama Between Men" which is uhhh. Banjou and Sento also get a gay little combined form. On Faiz's end, the homoeroticism feels very tied into the themes of societal exclusion and social isolation. Kiba and Takumi are "different" and they can sense that within each other, growing closer as they continue to remain closed off from one another about what is truly "different" about the two of them. Kiba indicates to Mari that he is in love with someone, but it is ambiguous as to who he is talking about. Their relationship with each other is continuously criticized by Kusaka in a tone and using language that calls to mind homophobic bigotry. Furthermore, for the ladies, there are moments of homoeroticism between Mari and Yuka where the two girls connect and you can briefly see a better version of the show where their relationship is focused on more instead of the love quadrangle bullshit that Inoue put in there. All this being said, there is no happy ending for homosexuality in this show and watching it will give you an everlasting grudge against Inoue.

Kabuto- Kabuto's homoeroticism is a bit more understated, but it does have just enough in there. Kagami and Tendou have a few moments together and then there is whatever the fuck is going on between those two hopper losers. I am docking Kabuto a few points because Daisuke is there and he is so heterosexual in the worst way possible that it cancels out some of the homoeroticism.

Agito- Haven't finished this one so my ranking may change. Not very homoerotic but there are certainly some moments in there. I wonder if the writers realized that part of the appeal of Ichijou from Kuuga was his homoerotic devotion to Godai, and decided to gradually make Hikawa more homoerotically devoted to Agito as the show progressed.

W- Double is not very homoerotic. If you see someone praising its homoeroticism chances are they are shipping a grown man with a literal 16 yr old. We do not interact with these people. There is some homoeroticism earlier on in the show between Shoutaro and Kirihiko but that's a relatively small part of the show. The focus is more on family bonds and brotherhood as part of its exploration into the theme of familial abuse (and escaping from familial abuse).

Den-O (THE SHOW)- I haven't finished Den-O so I haven't watched any of the movies besides the OOO crossover. So I am not taking Teddy and Kotaro into consideration here. You'd think that a show with this many male characters trapped on a train together would be more homoerotic, but it really isn't. You get more of a family vibe between these characters. Fortunately, Den-O does not need homoeroticism because Momotaros is there.

#kamen rider

[teamdilf]

🌳 and 💙 for the snippet asks? :3c

💙share a snippet where a character falls out of love a little

From Practice Child:

“You need me more at the moment. Did you want to talk about what happened with Eleni?”

[Tarquin] tells the story; her parents’ prejudice, and their fear of turians that was so intense that Eleni refused to so much as introduce them. That he’d purchased a ring and was preparing to propose. “That’s how humans ask to bond - they use rings,” he explains.

“I think I knew that - Lora has talked to me about the ring she found to signify her and Garrus’ bonding,” Dad says.

“It’s a diamond. Traditional - I thought it looked boring but that’s what humans like so I found something nice that I could afford on my salary. Don’t know what I’ll do with it now. The thought of her parents’ disapproval got to be too much and she chose them over me. It makes sense, y’know; we’ve known each other for a year and she’s had her family for 25 years, so I was never going to win…”

“Your mother won,” Dad says, looking straight at him. “I chose her over my parents and never hesitated for a moment. The biggest hurdle was ensuring they did not prevent me from seeing Sabina, who was about 11 at the time. We’d been together close to two years at that point. If she cannot stand up to her family against their prejudice and make clear that you’re the one she wants a life with, then she is not worthy of being your partner.”

“But that’s so much to give up! Your family!”

“I’m of the belief that prejudiced family members are not family worth having, but I recognize that there are grey areas that I am unable to see, given my own circumstances. The fact remains that you deserve to join a family that loves and respects you. They are unlikely to, and she was unwilling to stand up for you. Therefore, she is unworthy. That does not mean your pain is invalid - it is hard to lose a future you’ve envisioned and a love you cherish, but there may come a time when you are grateful this has happened, even if that seems impossible right now.”

🌳 share a snippet featuring nature of any kind

From Father, Daughter, Rocket Launchers and a Side of Wrex:

Their campsite comes with a view of the mountains they’ll be hiking and climbing in. Once, you could take a winding mountain road up to the top of the mountain, but the Reapers destroyed it, though left behind a hiking trail and now this is a popular tourist spot for adventurers.

While still a clear day, the breeze smells of acrid smoke; as if someone had tossed an empty gas canister onto a fire. A different sort of burn than Cipritine, which smells more of charred metal and glass. City versus country, he assumes. A two minute walk from them is a creek with clear water and smooth, white stones - they brought bottled water with them, but can use this water to cook, so long as they boil it first.

They’re within walking distance of a lake, where the fishing is good, he’s told. Neither he or Aurelia are much good at fishing, but plan to spend an afternoon doing so from a dock. Worst case scenario, it’s time for the two of them to chat, snack and drink, which to him is the primary point of fishing. Tully would be aghast, but she has actual fishing talent.

#mass effect fanfiction #j's fics #ask games #thank you! #adrien victus #Tarquin Victus #Aurelia Victus

[high-dragon-bait]

Oh who is Eshana’s stepdad!?

OKAY tbh I don't know too much about him yet, but here's what I have:

His name is Lucian Hale, but he likes to be called Lucy. He's a human, a sailor/dockworker guy and I have no idea where he's from but I imagine him with a Scottish accent cause Why Not

He's got an excellent sense of humor, I feel like that's a requirement for Fenris honestly, he dosn't hide the fact that he's caring behind the humor. He's just very... raw. Honest. He is who he is and doesn't apologize for it.

He also likes to call Fenris "m'lord" cause it annoys him.

Eshana's story is centered around her running away and the adventure she goes on as a result, it's solely from her point of view and so Fenris is only present at the very beginning and the very end. However, because I'm me, I do have an "alternate" story from Fenris' point of view during the time she was gone, and she's gone for awhile, a year. Obviously... Fenris was not doing too hot during that time.

Lucian was one of the first dockworkers he talked to when he realized there's a good chance Eshana tried to board a ship. Fenris was frantic, terrified and angry, the other dock workers were too uncomfortable/afraid of him to approach. It was Lucian who actually took the time to listen to what was wrong, and because of that was able to spread the word about a missing girl to the other workers quickly.

Still that one encounter doesn't really... establish much. After that Lucy goes back to sea and comes back a month or so later and decides to see if that girl is okay, and asks around, when he finds out that they still haven't found her- that's when he gets more involved. I have this idea in my head for him going to check on Fenris and Fenris who has not slept this entire time very much does not remember him. It's delightfully awkward but does at least establish Lucy in Fenris' mind as someone who cares enough to check in on that raving stranger he met once on the docks. That means something

From then on Lucy makes a habit out of it, and it's at first something Fenris goes from being too tired to resist to actually looking forward to until it's something he relies on. He does not see him as a romantic interest yet though, just a nice man, and then a friend.

It's not until Eshana finally comes back (lets herself be found really) that their relationship grows. Fenris takes Eshana home with the mindset that he is going to use this as a clean slate. He will not forget what the past year taught him. He's going to make up for his mistakes and mend his relationship with his daughter. He can finally, finally breathe again.

And then that night he wakes up at like 3am and just thinks "Fuck... I'm in love."

Eshana absolutely ADORES Lucian by the way. She thinks he's the best. Fenris would ask Lucy if he'd like to stay for dinner and Eshana would be distantly yelling "WOULD YOU LIKE TO STAY FOREVER?"

I also have one scene concept in my head of Lucian visiting Avis Hawke's memorial and asking for her blessing to marry Fenris. Promising to love him for her, with her, for the rest of his life. When he gets to the end of it he sees a hawk fly above him and takes that as the blessing. It's a very cliche scene but I think it's sweet leave me ALONE

Anyway, I think I've talked enough about this random Dragon Age OC for now. I just want Fenris to be happy dammit. I put him through so much he deserves to be happy in the end

#Dragon Age #FenHawke #My Dragon Age

[geminiamethyst]

Limitless. Chapter 19: Living Accommodations

Chapter 1: click HERE

Chapter 18: click HERE

Chapter 20: click HERE

Once the ship docked and everyone grabbed what they could, they immediately evacuated it. This was the closet port that they could find since leaving the island. No doubt this is where it was supposed to dock if things went according to White's plan. His men might be waiting for them somewhere nearby. Even if they weren't, sixteen people suddenly getting off of a boat that wasn't supposed to be there will draw attention to them soon. They need to hide somewhere. They had no money, so they can't go into a hotel for the night somewhere or get themselves food. There might be a place for homeless people to get food, like a soup kitchen, so that might not be too much of a problem. However, they can't sleep on the streets. If there was a homeless shelter that they could stay at would be a blessing, but not if the shelter was full. Besides, White might order his men to check out any homeless shelters for everyone, so it might not be safe anyway. Maybe an abandoned building could be safe for now. They just need to make sure that it was suitable enough to stay in.

It took a while, but the group was able to find a two floor apartment building with a basement. It was boarded up at the windows, meaning that for now, everyone was obscured from view. Miu set to work in fixing the wiring inside the building. If anyone was going to be using the lights or any electrical outlets, they need to make sure that it was safe to do so. With Kirumi's help, everyone helped to make it was clean as they could. There wasn't any furniture to get comfortable on, and there weren't any carpets, but at the moment, that didn't matter too much. It wasn't perfect, but it'll have to do for now.

"Well, at least we can sleep in the dry now." Kaede commented as she brushed dust off of her hands.

"Not to mention warm! I fixed the heating too." Miu shouted as she came back up from the basement. True to her word, the building started to feel a little warmer now.

"That's a relief." Himiko sighed in content. "But what about money? We need to get food and clothing somehow."

"I've already thought of a solution. I can rent out my services under an alias. Tsumugi, could you assist making a disguise for me?" Kirumi spoke up, giving everyone some relief.

"Of course." Tsumugi smiled, happy to put her dressmaking skills to some use finally.

"Maybe I can help to. I can use my powers to fix shit for people and get payed for it." Miu offered, thinking of a similar idea to Kirumi's. Everyone else was thinking the same thing, wanting to try to find some way of employment or any other way to get money other than begging people on the street.

"At least that'll help out in terms of money." Shuichi said. "So where are we all sleeping?"

"Oh! Oh! I know the perfect place for Murder Girl! The basement!" Kokichi suddenly declared.

"What?!" Kaito exclaimed, whipping around to face everyone so quick that he almost slipped.

"I agree! It's plain to see that we can't trust a killer." Tsumugi asked, pointing right at Maki.

"Atua says that almost everyone agrees." Angie added joyfully. Maki didn't react to this. It was like she was expecting this to happen. She knew that this was going to happen to her. She knew the moment that she saw that there was a basement, everyone would rather keep her down there. Just like she was kept in Isolation.

"Hold on a sec! You can't just-" Kaito protested, his shoulders tensing up. The basement will only remind Maki of the hell that she was forced to go through for five years. She went through it longer than everyone else. She doesn't deserve to be locked away and everyone still treating her like a monster.

"It's fine." Maki suddenly spoke up before Kaito could say anything else. Kaito was stunned into silence the second she started speaking. Maki looked at everyone in the eye, wanting to confirm that this was truly what they all wanted. "So long as I'm kept down there, you'll be fine with that right?"

"Yep! You stay down there, and everything will be just fine." Kokichi smiled like a child at Christmas. Kaito looked back at Maki, hoping that she would state an argument to say why she shouldn't be put down there in the dark. However, Maki was silent and her face was emotionless like a doll. She finally turned around and headed towards the door of the basement.

"Hold on! Maki!" Kaito shouted after her, but it was too late by then. Maki only answered him by slamming the basement door behind her. Hearing her quiet steps disappear into the basement, Kaito immediately turned to everyone else. "What is your problem?! If it wasn't for Maki, we would never have gotten out of there!" Almost everyone looked shocked that Kaito was suddenly this angry. It was like they didn't see the problem with what had just happened and what they were doing right now. It made Kaito furious to think that they were this ignorant.

"Maybe. But have you forgotten that she's a professional killer? We need to make sure that she doesn't hurt anyone." Kiyo sighed, is voice sounding far too calm about this situation.

"Besides, I only let her out of Isolation because I thought that you were going to use her as just a distraction for us to get away!" Miu barked, remembering what Kaito had asked her to do as they were escaping.

"You mean that you expected me to leave her behind?!" Kaito glared at Miu, causing her to whimper and cower a little bit. That wasn't his objective at all! He wanted Miu to let Maki out because he wasn't going to leave her behind. She didn't deserve to get left behind at all.

"Well...yeah! I mean...that's all she is right? A heartless weapon." Miu whimpered so quietly that Kaito barely heard her.

"That's right. She is an assassin after all. The only thing that she is good for is killing." Tenko added.

"Even Gonta not sure if Maki should be trusted." Gonta spoke up, but he sounded unsure himself about what he was saying.

"Are you all idiots?!" Kaito shouted so loud that the apartment building seemed to rattle. Again, everyone looked at him in surprise. Seeing that he got their attention, Kaito kept going, wanting to get what he needed to say out. "Maki never had a choice in that life! Did any of you think to at least trying to get to know her?! No? I didn't think so! She's still human. And if you don't see that, then you're no better than the monsters that hurt her." Everyone continued to look stunned as Kaito said that. After a couple of seconds, a few of them looked ashamed. The ones that looked ashamed seemed to have gotten the message. Kaito felt like it was a small victory in a way, but it might not last. Wanting to calm down, Kaito stomped outside. He regretted it a little as the cold air hit him like a truck. He didn't bother going back in to grab a blanket to keep himself warm, he wasn't sure if he could face the others just yet. Clenching his teeth to keep them from chattering, Kaito started rubbing his arms to try to warm up. He looked up at the sky, seeing that it was starting to cloud over again. Looks like the snow was getting ready to start falling once more. Kaito hoped that the heating down in the basement was fixed, otherwise Maki might freeze to death.

Kaito jumped a little when he heard the door being opened and closed. He turned a little to see Shuichi coming outside to join him. He had a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and was carrying another in one hand. He offered it out to Kaito, noticing how cold his friend suddenly looked. Kaito smiled gratefully and gently took the blanket from Shuichi. He wrapped the blanket around him, sighing silently in content as he felt a little warmer now, his breath turning into mist as it made contact with the winter air.

"Are you okay?" Shuichi asked as he stood next to Kaito.

"I'm fine. I'm just fed up with everyone judging Maki just because of what had happened in the past." Kaito explained, trying his best not to have a too much of a rant, otherwise he and Shuichi might be out here all night.

"I'm ashamed to say that I was like that. But, I'm willing to give Maki a chance. After all, she did get us out of that place." Shuichi sighed, offering a reassuring smile to Kaito at the end. Kaito returned the smile, again feeling like he had a small victory. At least one person admitted that they were wrong to distrust Maki. He was quite surprised that Shuichi had changed his mind that quick. The others however, might be a different story. After all, not everyone changes their opinion overnight. Especially if they've had the same opinion about something or someone for a long time. It might take some work, but Kaito wasn't going to give up easily. Another thing as well to consider is Maki. She might not be trusting of everyone else yet, especially after the way they had treated her just now. She seemed to trust him, which felt good. Hopefully overtime, she'll start trusting everyone else too. All it takes is time.

#limitless fic #Kaimaki #super power au #drv3 #angie yonaga #gonta gokuhara #kaede akamatsu #maki haruwaka #kaito momota #himiko yumeno #tenko chabashira #korekiyo shinguji #tsumugi shirogane #shuichi saihara #ryoma hoshi #rantaro amami #miu iruma #keebo

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Words: 6,188 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: Alexandria, pre-Negan + flashbacks in other eras Warnings: language, fear and anxiety, mention of fear of heights Summary: Y/N and Daryl head out on the run for the requested medical supplies. Things are tense, but possibly about to get worse... This part is written in Daryl's POV!

Your name: submit What is this?

* * *

“I ain’t waitin’. I got a whiff of him and I gotta go before it disappears.”

“Daryl, are you sure about this?” Carol pressed him, creases from worry between her eyebrows. “Are you sure you’ve really thought this through?”

“What is there to think through? If he finds her again, he’ll kill her. And I ain’t waitin’ around for that to happen.” The archer was a blur of activity, gathering his gear and shoving it into his pack.

“I think you need to talk to her about this,” Carol insisted, relinquishing her hold on his poncho somewhat unwillingly as Daryl pulled it from her hands.

He shook his head. “Nah. Ya know she’ll want to be there and I can’t risk that…” he trailed off. “I can’t risk—can’t risk that.”

A thick silence stretched for a moment and Carol wrung her hands. “Well, what are you going to tell her?”

He paused, his hands on the clasp of his pack. “I ain’t tellin’ her anythin’. I’ll leave before its light tomorrow. By the time everyone is up, I’ll be gone.”

“What am I supposed to tell her then? When she inevitably asks?” Carol pressed him. “You want me to lie to her too?”

“I ain’t lyin’,” Daryl snapped. “‘M just not—not tellin’ her everythin’. ‘M ending this so she can move on.”

Carol’s jaw tensed. “It feels like a lie.”

“Just tell her I went north. To see what I could see. Lookin’ for supplies,” he drawled, setting his pack and crossbow on the ground beside his bed. “I don’t know.”

Carol sighed heavily and shook her head as he straightened up. “I don’t think this is—”

“Look, tell her whatever ya want. Just wait until ‘m gone. This is happenin’. It’ll be done. S’gonna be over with. For good.”

She shook her head and gave him a long look before crossing his cell and gently clasping his shoulder. “Be careful. I mean it,” she said, surrendering to the fact that there would be no changing his mind. He nodded, pulling his bottom lip in between his teeth for a moment.

“I will.”

Carol gave him one last look full of anxiety and left him.

* * *

I hardly slept. Maybe caught 20 minutes here and 15 minutes there. Anxiety about the run—that’s all it was. At least, that’s what I kept tellin’ myself. Wanderin’ into a hospital was about the dumbest shit we could do. They always promised to be loaded with unexpected bullshit and floods of undead assholes. But lyin’ flat on my back in the dark, I knew deep down it had a helluva lot more to do with her than it had to do with the run. I was tryin’ to remember the last time I’d spent more than ten minutes alone with her and it left me with a feelin’ like somebody had dropped a damn lead weight onto my chest. I turned over in bed in an attempt to throw it off, but it still sat there on my lungs. I knew exactly when we’d last been alone for longer than a few minutes. Of course I fuckin’ knew. It was burned into my goddamn memory.

But it wasn’t doin’ me a lick of good to think on it so I pushed it away and waited for the clock beside me to read 5:15 before I climbed out of bed. My gear was all waitin’ ready, except for pickin’ up a gun on the way out. I half-expected to run into her in the armory, but it was dark and empty when I grabbed a handgun and some ammo. It felt like a lonely walk to Aaron’s, up the empty street, dew heavy on the grass, and my bootsteps echoing loudly off the dark rows’a houses. I never feel right in here… with the square little lawns and lights on by the front doors. It just felt fake, like somebody had built paper houses and was plannin’ to light ‘em up to burn any minute. I couldn’t feel settled. I just felt… lost. Outta place. Like I didn’t belong.

I’d gotten rid of that feelin’ once… My mind drifted back to her like it always did. It was like I didn’t have no damn control over my own mind. She’d been the one who’d made me feel like I belonged. But now? Fuck. I’m doin’ it again. Focus, dumbass.

She wasn’t waitin’ by my bike either, so I rode up to the gate. As the lookout platform came into view, I caught sight of her climbing down, followed by Gabriel. Her pack was slung on her back, a shotgun hanging at her side and her favorite pistol in a holster on her thigh. I found myself chewing the inside of my cheek. Nerves. Anxiety. This was gonna be a long fuckin’ day.

“I’ve got the gate,” Gabriel said, heading for the latch. She wandered over and I felt a jolt when she met my eyes. I nudged my nose up in a nod, but she just looked back at me with that same stony expression. Unreadable. It always seemed like I never saw her smile anymore. Maybe she did, just not around me. I got that blank look or a glare that I probably deserved…

“Were ya on watch?” I asked, curious why she wouldn’ta gotten rid of her shift in favor of sleep, knowing we’d be heading out on a run early.

“No,” she said simply. No extra info. Typical. Why waste more on me when one word would do? She didn’t owe me nothin’. And she knew it. I swallowed my other questions and leaned forward on my bike so she could climb on. I felt her settle in behind me and glanced over my shoulder at her. She caught my eyes for a brief moment before looking away, down toward the ground. That was typical too. It was like she just couldn’t look at me. Felt like somebody twisted a blade in my chest every time she dodged me like that. And yet I couldn’t get enough of her, even if she was purposely a giant pain in the ass most of the damn time… I still felt like she was a mirage in a desert. A mouthful of cool water in a drought. Food for a starvin’ man.

Gabriel was waiting with the gate open, so I revved the bike to life again. Her arms wrapped around my waist to hold on and for a second I thought I felt her cheek press against the back of my shoulder, but I knew I must have imagined it. My heart was racing as we pulled out. I was more anxious than I had been all night. The thoughts rushing through my head moved so fast I couldn’t even focus on any of them.

Gabriel yelled at us to be safe as we moved through, kickin’ dust up that left a glowing red cloud behind from the reflection of the taillights. The ride to the city was smooth. We made good time, luckily only passing lone walkers or small herds that were easy to avoid. Around the curves, for a brief moment, she’d hold tighter to me and lean into the turns like I’d taught her in what felt like another fuckin’ lifetime. Each corner I could feel every individual fingertip pressing into my waist or stomach. It was always followed by a sudden wash of heat like somebody had shoved me in a shower with the temperature all the way up. I couldn’t control it. Didn’t matter how hard I tried to ignore the feelin’ of being so damn close against each other…

I slowed down as we neared the hospital. Cars sat rusting in gridlocked traffic, tires long gone, frozen in time—same place they were when everythin’ shut the fuck down. I slowed my bike to roll over some debris and hit a chunk of concrete a little harder than I meant to. Her arms tightened around me reflexively at the jolt before loosening again the next second. My heart jolted at the same time. That feeling… of her clinging onto me for safety—but fuck. Let’s not make it out to be more than it is, dumbass. I turned toward my left shoulder. “Sorry,” I murmured. She didn’t say anything back, just shifted in her place behind me, puttin’ an inch more space back between us. The hospital came into view ahead, tall over everything else on the block.

She tapped my arm and I turned so I could hear her over the engine. “We should park. Sound of the bike,” she said. I knew what she was thinkin’. Any walkers or people anywhere around would hear us. I turned down a side street and parked in a loading dock bay. She climbed off about as damn fast as she could. Kicking the kickstand out and swinging my leg over, she was already walking back toward the corner of the building to look down the street.

“Hold up,” I called after her. I still had to get my gear off the back. She either didn’t hear me or didn’t give a shit and I found myself gritting my teeth. But when I rushed around the corner, I nearly collided with her. She did wait. She was leaned up against the brick, her shotgun in her hands, staring ahead at the looming building.

She straightened up as I stopped beside her and we started windin’ our way down the last couple blocks, keepin’ to the shadows of the buildings, stayin’ in cover as best we could. Even so, I couldn’t help glancin’ up at the endless windows, too many high points. All it would take is one asshole with a rifle and a scope... My hands started to sweat as I gripped my crossbow. I glanced at her, but she was as stony-faced as ever. “C’mon,” I said, quickening my stride. “I wanna get the hell off this street.”

I heard her let out a small scoff behind me. “Yeah, you��re the only one worried about being out here,” she murmured. My teeth clenched again but I did my best to ignore it. There was no point gettin’ riled up this early in the day. We still had a lot of fuckin’ work to do. We reached a set of double doors on the side of the hospital, but one glance inside showed they were well barricaded. I stood there rubbing a hand over the stubble on my face. “S’try the south door,” I drawled. To my surprise, she didn’t argue. But that side was a fuckin’ bust too. “Shit,” I spat out. There was a tall cabinet blocking the entrance.

“Good call,” she said sarcastically.

I shot her a glare. And this time when I bit my cheek, I tasted blood. “Ya got a better fuckin’ idea? Huh?” I challenged her.

She rolled her eyes, studying the door for a moment. There was a large glass pane above it that was broken out and I saw her eyes lock in on it. “Boost me up there,” she said, inclining her chin to indicate the window.

Did she want to go in alone? Well, that sure as shit wasn’t fuckin’ happenin’. “Like hell,” I growled back. She rolled her eyes again.

“Just boost me through and I’ll get the door open. I’ll let you in.”

Now it was my turn to scoff. “Ya gonna move that cabinet? By yerself?” I asked skeptically. The muscle in her jaw tensed.

“I don’t have to move it far. Just enough to let you squeeze in. And you can help from the outside.”

I pulled my bottom lip in between my teeth. I didn’t like the idea. I paced a tight circle, thinkin’, as she shifted impatiently beside me. “What if ya get in there and there are walkers? Huh? We can’t see shit down the hall.”

“I’ll be quiet. Come on. We haven’t got all fucking day and we’re sitting ducks out here. Unless you’ve come up with something better—”

I didn’t like it, but she was right. Shit. “Fine,” I interrupted. She leaned her shotgun up against the wall as I set my back against the door, fingers locked together and hands low at my bent knee. “C’mon. Gimme yer foot.”

She seemed to hesitate and I wondered if she was having second thoughts, but the next moment she stepped close in front of me and her hands came to my shoulders. “Ready?” I asked. Her face was maybe six inches from mine, her hands light. I started to feel warm again, a flush of heat across the back of my neck that started spillin’ into my chest. I could see every fleck of color in her eyes, the upturned curve of her eyelashes, that little scar on her chin... Fuck. Focus.

“Ready.” She planted her boot in my hands and I boosted her up so she could grab the window edge. The tinkling of glass dropping in was all I could hear for a moment, and then her weight disappeared from my hands. Spinning around, I watched her pull herself through onto the top of the cabinet. She stayed perched there for a moment, glancin’ behind her, scoutin’ the hallway, before she dropped to her feet lightly. She made it look easy. Graceful.

I couldn’t stand still, constantly shifting my weight. I watched her face tighten as she wedged her shoulder into the cabinet, using all her weight, and it started to move at an angle away from the door. I pushed in with my shoulder from the outside and we finally had enough space for me to slip through. I passed her shotgun through first before turnin’ sideways and slidin’ in. It was dark and completely silent except for the sound of our own breathin’. It felt stuffy inside, and I could vaguely smell somethin’ sharp like animal piss and a sickeningly sweet smell. Death. Decay. I paused to draw the string on my crossbow back, cocking it ready to fire, a bolt nestled in the flight groove.

She pulled her flashlight out from the side pocket of her pack and clicked it on, shining it partially up the hallway ahead. “Jesus…” Her boots crunched over broken glass. She adjusted the shoulder strap of her shotgun, her eyes fixed down the hall, following the moving beam of her light. “This place is a fucking wreck,” she whispered. In her distraction, her tone lacked the usual hostility or sarcasm.

“Somethin’ went down since we were last here,” I agreed. There was a lot more debris and furniture toppled over and strewn about. A lot of obstacles to a clean getaway if we had to make one. “Let’s just get this done and get the hell out.”

“What a unique idea…” she remarked over her shoulder. There it was. Damn sarcasm was back.

I couldn’t help rolling my eyes and movin’ past her so I was in the lead. I knew it would annoy her, but I secretly wanted to be the one in the line of fire if somethin’ was crooked. I headed for the stairwell, pullin’ my own flashlight out and shinin’ it inside before I tried the door. It looked clear. “Upper floors are more likely to have shit left. Let’s go.”

We moved in silence. I could feel her ghosting behind me the whole way, almost mimicking my movements. This was the first time the two of us had been alone on a run since… since I dun even know when. But despite it being so goddamn long, we weren’t out of step. Once we started movin’ it was like no damn time had passed. We fell right back into our old rhythm. I knew her and she knew me. We worked well together when she put aside her need to argue with everythin’ I said. It still felt like we each knew what the other was thinkin’. Not that I expected this run would magically make working together bearable again for good, or solve anything, but at least we could if we had to. I also now was realizin’ this whole thing was probably orchestrated by Rick. Did Denise really need the supplies? Sure. But did it have to be Y/N and I gettin’ ‘em? Alone? Fuck no. I dunno exactly what he was hopin’ for but I’m pretty sure he’ll be disappointed…

Moving steadily upwards, we had most of the supplies on the list, plus plenty of extra finds, but I was growing more and more uneasy as we went on. We hadn’t run into a single fucking walker yet, and to me that meant they were probably herded up in a massive hoard somewhere. It felt like a matter of time before we found them or they found us. I could sense Y/N’s tension risin’ again too. She was more fidgety, more careful about each step she took. I found myself frequently sweeping my eyes back behind us to make sure nothin’ was lurking just outta the flashlight beams. There were the usual signs of walkers nearby; smears of blood on the floor and walls, that fuckin’ smell ya could never get outta yer nose, even chunks of flesh from the rottin’ fuckers. But we still hadn’t seen one, and I was fuckin’ worried.

“Almost got everything,” Y/N whispered to me, shoving a couple more bottles into her pack. “We just need to find the CPAP machine,” she murmured, staring down at the list. “I don’t have a fucking clue what the hell that looks like.” She glanced over at me, one of her eyebrows quirked in a question and I realized she was waitin’ for some kinda response.

“What? Yer lookin’ at me? I ain’t got a goddamn clue what the hell that even is,” I said gruffly. Shit. I saw it. Just for a second, but one corner of her lips twitched up in a smile and I swear there was a spark in her eyes—like the ones I used to see in her all the time. My heart jumped and I tried my best to ignore it. She seemed to turn away, hidin’ her face right as I was puzzlin’ over it.

“Right… well, let’s try down the hall. There’s probably another supply closet at the other end,” she said, nudging her head toward the darkness ahead.

We made our way cautiously. I pushed into the lead again and was surprised when she didn’t argue. I tried every door handle but most of ‘em just led to empty or trashed patient rooms. I caught her frozen in the doorway of one that had a massive bloodstain on the floor and spatter partially up the walls. Her eyes were wide and vacant, and I wondered what she was reliving. “Hey,” I said, just over her shoulder. She seemed to pull out of it abruptly and she turned away, moving on like nothin’ had happened. I let her go ahead, mainly so I could keep an eye on her for a minute and make sure she still had her head in the game, but I didn’t need to worry. Not about that anyway. She’d always been tough. She wasn’t shaken by shit easily. I knew that. And yet I still had this drive to want to protect her, even though she didn’t need it from me. And she definitely didn’t want it from me.

“Here,” she said suddenly, slinging her gun back on her shoulder and more fully opening the door to a small supply closet. There was hardly enough room for her to stand inside, so I posted up just behind her and strained my eyes and ears for anythin’. “It’s all electronic stuff,” she whispered, entirely focused at the task at hand. Her hands floated from one device to the next, illuminated by her flashlight. She was looking for some label or model number or somethin’ to tell her what they were. She bent down and grabbed some scattered papers from among the boxes on the floor. Swearing under her breath she held one up to the flashlight. “Of course the cover and all the useful shit in the front is torn off,” she muttered. She was bending down to grab another handful when there was some sudden, deep noise on the floor above us.

My heart seemed to stall out for a moment and she straightened up and froze, her eyes lifted toward the ceiling, lips partially parted. The sound seemed to reverberate through the building. I could feel it beneath my feet. It resonated through the walls. After a moment, I was looking at her and she glanced over and met my eyes, her eyebrows a little furrowed with worry.

“What the fuck was that?” she asked in a harsh whisper. I only shook my head. She gulped and refocused, shakin’ it off, focusing back on the papers. She was flipping page after page, scanning them as fast as she could.

I started to hear some more noises above us and then eventually spilling toward the other end of the hall. My grip on my crossbow tightened. “We need to move,” I said, keeping my voice low.

She was still intensely focused on the manual in her hands. “Just gimme a minute…” she said vaguely.

I shifted, turning more toward the far end of the hallway, straining my hearing. There was more clattering above us. “We might not have another damn minute.”

“Just—hold on—”

Fuck. I stood frozen for a moment as a herd of walkers started to spill out from the stairwell at the other end of the hallway and start toward us. “We ain’t got a minute, Y/N!” I urged in a harsh whisper. She didn’t seem to hear me.

There were more walkers than I could count. They hadn’t spotted us yet but I had to move fast, so I did the only damn thing I could think of and pushed her forward into the closet, pressing in after her and shutting the door as quietly as I could. I instinctively clicked my flashlight off and hurried to grab hers and do the same, plunging the two of us into darkness in that small space.

“Daryl, what the hell?!” she snapped at me. She’d been so focused she was completely oblivious to the mass of dead wandering our way. The goddamn closet was so small I had no choice but to be pressed into her… My heart started to pound and I think it had more to do with her against me than the undead assholes outside. I was sure she’d be able to feel it and prayed she’d just think it was adrenaline or somethin’. “What the fuck are you doing?!”

I shoved my hand over her mouth, all my patience gone. Did she really think I’d shoved her in a closet for the hell of it? “For once in yer goddamn life just shut up!” I growled in a low voice. She seemed to tense against me but in the quiet the sounds of the walkers outside the door were now easily heard above our ragged breathin’ and they were growing louder every second. I still had one hand over her mouth and the other clenching my crossbow at my side. She shifted against me and pulled my hand away. I could hear and feel her breathin’ pick up pace. I planted my palm on the wall behind her, next to her head, very aware of the growin’ heat pooling between the two of us where we were pressed together. The air felt suffocatin’. I started to worry the walkers outside the door would be able to hear my breathin’ I was so nervous. I wanted to shift, move away from her like I’m sure she wanted… I wanted to change positions and get my bow up, but it was impossible.

She didn’t seem to know where to put her arms within the tight, dark space. I couldn’t blame her. I was leaned in against her, sorta over her even. I felt her hand accidentally brush my arm and my body jolted a little at the contact, like some reflex I didn’t know I had. My teeth ground together. After that she seemed to settle away from me, into the wall behind her.

We had to just stay there, fuckin’ frozen, hardly room to breathe while the hoard passed by. Every once and a while, a body would thump hard against the door and I’d feel her flinch. I could feel sweat dripping down my neck and beading up on my face, my hair sticking to it. We were so close I could feel her breath against my skin when she faced toward me. I felt the rhythm of her breathin’. And I couldn’t ignore the fact that in that tiny ass closet, the only thing I could smell was the faint scent of her shampoo. I tried hard not to notice, but I’d be lyin’ if I said I didn’t try to put some name to the smell. Lavender? Not quite. Maybe more like rose? I dunno. And despite the possible death lurking just outside, I found it hard to focus on anythin' other than the feeling of her against me.

It felt like it took hours for the hoard to pass, but it was probably only ten minutes. But after the sounds drifted away we were still left with a big fuckin’ problem. They had to go somewhere, and my best guess was that they were travelin’ down.

It was so dark in there I couldn’t even tell if my fuckin’ eyes were open or closed, and it seemed to be makin’ it hard to think… Or maybe the angle of her one hip pressed into me was—fuck. Get it together, man… I fumbled for and clicked on my flashlight, findin' the two of us both wincin' at the sudden glare, noses almost touchin'. She was lookin’ up at me, her lips softly parted, her expression only full of concern for once, that little worry line she always gets near her eyebrow.

We both stayed like for a second. I guess just struck by actually seein’ how close we were in the sudden light, until finally she tore her eyes away and turned her head.

I tried to clear my throat, worried my voice was gonna come out soundin' strained or somethin’. “Uhh… sounded like they were goin’—”

“—down. Yeah,” she finished.

My eyes traced the angle of her jawline as she kept her face turned away from me. I heard the paper manual crinkle in her hand and groped for the doorknob behind me. “Yeah,” I agreed quietly. “So, we got a problem about gettin’ out.” My hand finally landed on the doorknob and I turned it and slowly opened the door on the hall, checking both directions carefully but also feelin’ like if I didn’t put some damn space between the two of us again I was about to explode. It looked clear and I stepped out. Glancin’ back, she still seemed frozen, up against the wall, her face turned away toward her shoulder so I couldn’t really get a read on her. “Hey. What is it?” I prompted her.

“Hmm?” She seemed to snap back to herself. “N—nothing…” She went back to searching the manual in her hand, like nothin’ had fuckin’ happened. Just one goddamn time I’d like to know what the fuck is goin’ on inside her head… But I ain’t got no right to that. She’s made that pretty fuckin’ clear.

It wasn’t the right manual or the right machine. But she went through two more until she found it. “Got it,” she announced, waving the paper at me before shoving it into her already full duffel bag. She seized a small machine from the shelf and started trying to rearrange items to make it fit in her pack.

“I got room,” I said, still nervously checkin’ over my shoulder. I thought I could hear the hoard moving below us, maybe two floors down.

“It’s fine. I can make it fit,” she said, jostling more stuff in her bag.

I rolled my eyes and grabbed the damn thing from her, slinging my crossbow strap over my shoulder. “Ya’d really rather split yer pack at the seams than take any fuckin’ help from me,” I murmured. I didn’t wait for an answer. I didn’t need one…

She stepped out of the closet and I caught her wiping her forearm across her forehead. It left a smear of dirt near her hairline. I had to pull myself back to the present. “So, how are we getting out of here?” she asked, adjusting her pack and the duffel bag strap on her shoulder.

I glanced at her, knowing she wasn’t gonna like my idea.

She rolled her eyes. “Well, you’ve obviously got something. Just get on with it.”

“Fire escape,” I said.

I watched the muscle in her jaw twitch as he jaw clenched. “Fuckin’ great…”

“Unless ya got somethin’ else—”

“You know I don’t,” she snapped back at me. She wiped a hand across her forehead again, swiping away fresh drops of sweat. “It’s—” She cut herself off. “Let’s just go,” she sighed, defeated.

I looked at her for a second more, trying to gauge just how freaked out she was, but it didn’t seem to matter. We didn’t have any other options.

“Let’s go,” she snapped again. “Before I change my mind about being able to handle this.”

“It ain’t—”

She squeezed her eyes shut and I watched her body tense. “I swear to god, Dixon, if you say ‘It ain’t that bad’ or ‘It ain’t that high’ right now, I will lose my shit and attract every fucking walker in this goddamn building. I don’t even give a fuck.” Her jaw muscle twitched.

I couldn’t help letting out a sigh that was more of a growl than anything but then I turned and headed for the window a couple doors down that I’d noticed was busted out. Leaning through, I scanned the outside of the building for a fire escape. Nothing on that side.

“It’s probably around the other side. Let’s try the end of the hall,” she suggested. Her boots stayed rooted to the floor and I glanced at her again. She caught my eyes and must have read the concern on my face.

“I’m fine. You’re the last person I need worrying about me,” she growled.

Fuck. She could be infuriating… I found my hand clenching and unclenching a few times before I followed her back out of the room.

She was right. There was a fire escape down that side. I grabbed a piece of metal off the floor and straightened up. “Ya ready?” I asked one more time. “They might hear this glass break so we gotta fuckin’ move.” I thought her hands were a bit shaky.

“Just do it,” she said. And this time, I could hear the quiver in her voice.

I smashed the window and knocked out the glass before pullin' myself through. The metal grates rattled under my boots and she looked suddenly sick as she approached the window sill. I hesitated a second before reaching a hand out to help her through.

“I’m fine,” she said. She didn’t look fine, but she gripped the ledge and climbed out. “Oh, fuck. Fuck…” she muttered as her feet landed on the platform. She was keeping her eyes fixed straight out. Even just the metal grates at th prison used to freak her out, and that was one floor.

I wanted to comfort her but… I wasn’t dumb enough to think it’d help or that she wanted me to, so instead I just started down the stairs at a good pace. She followed stiffly behind me, gripping onto the railing with white knuckles and falling behind.

Every once and a while I’d glance back and she looked like she was about to be sick, but she was still following. We hit a snag as we reached the third-floor platform. A large part of it had rusted and fallen away, leaving a gaping hole we would have to edge around to reach the next set of stairs.

“Oh, you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.” I heard her behind me and when I looked back her eyes were wide and round and she was clutching onto the railing like it was a lifeline.

“S’fine. I’ll cross first. Just keep over—”

“Oh, really, Daryl? I should keep over to the side? You mean I should stay away from the huge fucking hole in the goddamn floor?” It kept drawing her eyes and I’d see her rip them back up and away, reeling.

I knew that was mostly coming from the fact that she was fuckin’ terrified, but every harsh word from her still stung. “Fine. Clearly, yer good,” I spat back. “Ya don’t need me and ya don’t give a shit and yer fine. I fuckin’ got it.” So much for trying to calm her down. I edged past the hole in the metal grating and went down the next set of stairs. Finally, I just had to push down the ladder, climb down, and we’d be on solid ground again. But when I looked back up, she was still frozen where she had been, on the far side of the platform. I watched her for another minute, waiting to see if she’d move. I knew she wasn’t gonna ask for help, not from me, but she obviously needed it and tough shit, I’m the only damn person here. I rubbed a hand across the back of my neck, anxious to even try again, and climbed back up. I edged past the rusted-out hole and stopped next to her. “Just gimme yer hand.” She didn’t loosen her grip on the railing, and her eyes landed on my face. “S’fine. Just for two seconds, lemme fuckin’ help ya.”

Her chest was heaving with fearful breaths and I guess the idea of tryin’ to cross along that edge alone was worse than puttin’ her hand in mine. Part of me still thought she’d take the heights over me, but she didn’t… She pried her hand off the railing and placed it into mine. I—I can’t say my heart didn’t jump when my fingers closed around it. The motorcycle. The fuckin’ closet. Now this. We’d hardly been within six feet of each other for years and now all this in one day… I felt dizzy. It ain’t like Rick could have predicted these things would happen. He sure as shit couldn’t command a hoard to force us into each other in a tiny closet… but he must have been hopin’ for somethin’ by sendin’ us out here. Was it gonna work on her? I fuckin’ doubt it.

As we stepped along the edge of the edge of the platform, she held her breath. She always seemed like nothing in this fucked up world scared her anymore, nothing phased her. Half the time it almost seemed like she didn’t give a shit if she died. But this? Heights? This still scared her on some level she couldn't reason away.

But we made it across just fine. She was gripping onto me so tightly I thought she might have bruised the bones in my damn hand. And as we climbed down the next set of stairs, long past the danger, she was still holding onto me. But just as quickly as I realized it, she slipped her hand out and stiffened next to me again, fixing her eyes away toward the railing, which she grabbed onto again desperately.

We made it down the ladder, dropping onto the concrete and making a run back to my bike, slippin' from cover to cover, packs heavy and weighing us down. I was thinking how batshit crazy it was that we’d just done a hospital run and hadn’t had to kill a single walker AND managed to get all the damn supplies... when we rounded the last corner and a string of curses left her mouth.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me. What the fuck?!” She knelt down next to my bike and as I looked, my stomach dropped.

“Son of a fuckin' bitch.” Both tires on my motorcycle were slashed. Ruined. Fuck.

We were stranded in the city without a runnin’ vehicle and somebody knew we were here.

#daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon twd #the walking dead #twd fanfics #daryl dixon drabbles #daryl imagines #daryl x y/n #fanfics #writers of tumblr #twd drabbles

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

Take Me, I’m Yours

(the highest voted options on the poll were ‘Geralt rescues Jaskier from trouble’ and ‘Jaskier riles the Captain up in public’ so I teamed up with the ever-marvelous, stupendously talented @limrx to bring you this Swashbuckling AU oneshot/art piece featuring a horribly jealous Geralt and a frisky, flirty Jaskier)

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“Do you think he likes me back?” Jaskier asked. He leaned over the ship’s railing to look more closely at the dolphin following behind them. Lambert didn’t think he’d fall overboard but it would be kind of funny if he did. The strange young nobleman did have a way of always landing on his feet, though. 

“I know he does.”

“Well how come he hasn’t told me anything about it, then?” 

“You’ve met the Captain, right? About this tall, long white hair, weird yellow eyes, emotionally incompetant?” 

“You have a good point. Should I just confront him about it?”

“Yeah, sure.” Lambert rolled his eyes before shooting Jaskier a pointed look. “If you want to send your ransom note back to Lettenhove the following morning.”

“Fuck. I just want to kiss him, Lambert. Regularly. I want to know if he snores or not. I want to lay on the deck beneath the stars and talk to him like we’re friends and not just pirate and pseudo-pirate-captive. I really want to see what his ass looks like under those godsforsaken trousers, Lambert, it’s killing me not knowing.”

“You’re more insatiable than a siren during the rainy season,” the second mate teased. “But with fewer teeth.”

“Shut up.”

“Are you going ashore when we lay anchor?”

“Am I allowed?”

“I assume you’ll be allowed. You’re practically part of the crew. You’ve been aboard for nearly two weeks and you’ve pulled your fair share of the weight, if not moreso.”

“Why thank you, Lambert. I appreciate you noticing.”

“Of course, Jaskier. You may be an utter fool and a fop to boot, but at least you’re a hard worker.”

“Asshole.”

“Mhm.”

They both watched the dolphins for a minute in silence before Jaskier’s face split into the most heinous and dastardly grin. It filled Lambert with an unmistakable sense of fear and worry. “I have a brilliant idea. I know how to get Geralt to admit his feelings.”

“No, absolutely not. I am not getting roped into this, you horrible little minx. Don’t give me that look! I won’t help you this time!”

“But Lamby-bert,” Jaskier whined. “If he has someone to take all his frustrations out on in bed then I’m sure it’ll be easier to negotiate for higher shares next time we take a vessel.”

Lambert did not miss the fact that Jaskier said ‘we’ when referring to the crew. The second mate knew the little nobleman was here to stay; it had been clear that Jaskier would be sticking around from the moment Geralt first laid eyes (and hands) on him. The Captain hadn’t stopped looking out for the lad since. Lambert wasn’t even going to think about that singular flirty kiss atop the mainmast nearly a week and a half ago. Geralt had been pining after the acrobatic little idiot ever since and making absolutely no move to flirt back. It was driving the crew absolutely crazy. “Alright, you devilish siren. I’m in.”

----------------------------------------

Jaskier cleaned up nice.

And he deserved to clean up nice. He’d worked hard to put this outfit together. Billy had lent him a pair of dark blue breeches in return for Jaskier’s help with mending the mainsail. The shirt he was wearing was half a size too big, which was exactly big enough for the neckline to plunge even lower than he usually wore it. This way it revealed more of his toned (and rather hirsute) chest. He’d borrowed it from Starkey, who was the same height as him but who had much broader shoulders.

The Captain was going to absolutely die when he saw Jaskier.

He whistled a rather naughty shanty as he exited the bunk room and made his way towards the gangplank where Starkey, Lambert, and Eskel were waiting for him. He spun in a quick circle, arms out to show off his clothes. Lambert and Starkey whistled appreciatively and Eskel hid his face in the palm of his hand. “Ready, boys?”

“Absolutely not,” Starkey smiled. The first mate standing next to him tilted his head back to look at the sky, sighing deeply.

“Are you sure about this? What if the Captain tries to kill Lambert?”

“He won’t be killing anyone. Hopefully. If he does run his sword through anyone, it will most likely be me,” Jaskier joked. “Now, this is my first time drinking with real pirates. Anything I should know?”

“Don’t be an idiot,” Eskel suggested. Lambert bit back a laugh and Starkey snorted.

“Impossible.”

“Well then, let’s go.”

The four men made their way down onto the docks and through the sparse crowd of sailors and merchants still mingling in the evening light. Starkey led them to a decent tavern and found a vacant corner table, which gave them an excellent view of the door.

Geralt and Starkey had spent the morning selling their stolen cargo to various merchants, shopkeepers, and artisans. The Captain had divided up the gold between his crew according to their various contracts and Jaskier, more as a jest than anything else, was given two crowns as well. “For not dying,” Geralt had intoned seriously. The men were amused but Jaskier’s face had gone bright red with embarrassment. The young noble had talked them out of trouble with the Skelligan patrols twice last week and Geralt was repaying him with public humiliation? Lambert knew that the Captain’s earlier actions were about to make this evening a lot more entertaining (if slightly uncomfortable) and he was ready to get this show on the road. He flung an arm around Jaskier’s waist and ordered them all a round of ales.

“So everyone knows what the general goal here is, right?” Jaskier clarified.

“Yes,” Eskel nodded. “You’re using Geralt’s jealous nature to make him act on his less than subtle feelings for you.”

“Correct. Wonderful.”

Lambert squeezed the noble’s hip through his borrowed pants and Jaskier huffed indignantly in reply. Starkey chuckled softly at their antics and winked at the barmaid when she brought them their drinks. “Can’t wait, really. It’s been so boring lately and the last two ships we took didn’t even fight back. This is drama. This is entertainment!”

“Shut up, Starkey,” Jaskier pouted. He leaned back into Lambert’s embrace and gulped down half his ale.

“Slow down, kid,” the first mate teased. “Or you will be drunk when he gets here and your plan won’t work.”

“I need to get the pink in my cheeks or I’ll look suspicious,” Jaskier argued. “One ale should do it without getting me tipsy. Maybe two if it’s weak.”

“Method actors,” Lambert rolled his eyes.

Jaskier was sipping slowly at his second ale and the other three pirates were on their fourth or fifth when Geralt finally came barreling through the tavern door. “There you are!” Eskel shouted, waving the Captain over. Nobody missed the barely-hidden glare Geralt aimed at Lambert’s arm where it rested against the nobleman’s lower back.

“Captain,” the second mate nodded.

“Lambert. Eskel. Starkey.” Geralt greeted them all in turn.

“Heyyyy,” Jaskier whined, leaning forward against the edge of the table and pouting. “What about me, sir?”

“You.”

“Rude,” the brunette huffed. Lambert ran a lazy hand up and down his spine and Jaskier watched as Geralt’s eyes narrowed into slits. He sighed sadly and melodramatically into his mug and nodded once in the second mate’s direction. “Thank you, darling. At least someone in this crew likes me.”

Starkey saw Geralt’s eyelid twitch and slid Eskel two crowns under the table to settle their bet. He thought the vein on their Captain’s throat would show up before the eyelid went, but it must have been the first mate’s lucky night this time around. “Hey Eskel, let’s see if any of the lovely ladies here want to dance with us, eh?”

“You coming, Captain?” Eskel asked. “Seems like Jaskier and Lambert are a bit busy.”

“Yes, Geralt,” Jaskier egged him on. The Captain had a white-knuckled grip on the handle of his mug. The noble took a long swig of ale and licked a bit of foam from his lip when he was finished, noting the way Geralt’s eyes locked onto his mouth. “Why not go dance with a pretty lady. Certainly nobody else has your attention.”

The pirate Captain finally snapped. He slammed his mug down and reached around the table to grab Jaskier around the waist. He hauled him out of the second mate’s grip and onto his feet. “Captain, what are yo-”

“Yer coming with me, siren,” Geralt snarled. Lambert relinquished the nobleman with very little fuss, winking at Jaskier as the pirate Captain swung him up and over his broad shoulder. The young man flashed all three of his co-conspirators a thumbs up as he was carried out of the tavern like a sack of potatoes.

“A little rude to Lambert, don’t you think, sir?” he asked, resting his elbow against Geralt’s shoulder blade and settling his chin onto his hand. He crossed his ankles to make it easier for the pirate to balance his weight comfortably. “But they’ll be happy to know that our little plan worked out.”

Geralt stopped in his tracks but did not set his captive down. “Your what?”

“Our plan,” Jaskier explained as if bored. “To get you to finally do something about all this sexual tension between us. I kissed you on the mouth for fuck’s sake.”

“I thought it was an accident.”

“Oh, and saving you from hanging at the hands of some Skelligan officers, was that an accident? Not sending a ransom note last time we stopped for water and not turning you in for the reward in Novigrad, were those accidents too? There is a hefty bounty on your head, White Wolf, and I could be living independently in a castle somewhere right now except that I happen to find you endlessly attractive and fascinating.”

“Hmm.” Geralt resumed walking. Jaskier noticed with a smirk that his pace had picked up quite a bit. As if he was suddenly in a hurry to be somewhere.

“Hum dismissively all you like, sir, but you’re still carrying me back to your cabin to ravish me senseless, are you not?”

“Ravish may be the wrong word for what I’d like to do to you, but you do look rather tempting.”

“Thank you. I put a lot of effort into this ensemble.”

“You’re a calculating little nymph, aren’t you?”

“No, of course not. I only managed to secure a bunk aboard the Kaer Morhen and wrap its infamous captain around my finger in less than a month. I am but a silly nobleman with excellent dexterity and a penchant for climbing.”

“Lambert was right to call you a minx.”

“He does love that nickname.”

“It’s not an endearment.”

“Whatever.” The ground shifted and Jaskier knew they were making their way up the gangplank and back onto the ship. This was the part he’d been waiting for! Geralt kicked in his cabin door and stepped inside, turning to close and lock it behind them. Jaskier wriggled impatiently. “Set me down!”

“Hmm, no. I rather like the view from here.”

“Excuse me?”

Geralt gave him a gentle smack on the ass, almost a pat really, and huffed out a laugh at Jaskier’s offended noise. “You’ve been an awful lot of trouble for a nobleman and a captive.”

“I’m barely a captive, Geralt. Give it up already.”

“You haven’t signed the book.” He set Jaskier back on his feet and looped his arms around the younger man’s waist to pull him close. “You’re still a captive until you swear on the book and sign your name next to the others. Then you’ll be part of my crew.”

“I have yet to negotiate for my shares,” the brunette stated. He tilted his chin back, baring his neck slightly and offering Geralt his ale-damp lips. “Ten crowns after every capture and I get to sleep in here with you. That sounds fair.”

“You’re a good worker. Seven crowns, you can sleep in here with me, and you can borrow my bandannas whenever you want.”

“Even the red one?”

“Especially the red one.”

Jaskier’s soft pink mouth brushed against the pirate’s as he murmured his answer: “Deal.”

Geralt’s lips crashed against Jaskier’s with the strength of a wave hitting the side of his ship in a maelstrom. The Captain’s mouth was so warm and his lips moved against the younger man’s with almost frightening determination. As if he was trying to prove himself. His arms were strong around the nobleman’s lower back and his white hair brushed deliciously against the skin of Jaskier’s neck.

“You’ve bewitched me, body and soul.”

“Oh, Geralt,” the younger man sighed, opening his mouth to let the other in. I never thought the word ‘plunder’ could apply to kissing but here I stand, corrected by experience yet again. The White Wolf of the Seven Seas pulled away, made breathless by a young and foolish nobleman in search of adventure.

“I’m not a siren, you know. Not even a little. My family’s estate is landlocked.”

Geralt’s fingers rose from his waist and brushed against his cheekbone reverently. Those amber eyes, so cold and focused when he shouted orders or intimidated a merchant captain, were looking down at Jaskier with such devoted tenderness. The ex-noble felt his heart fill anew and double in size. There wasn’t enough room in his body to hold all of this feeling.

“Kiss me again, Captain. Take me to bed.”

“You’re too good at tempting me. You must be evil.”

“I assure you,” Jaskier smirked, ripping Geralt’s shirt over his head in one smooth movement. “I am.”

#fanfic #geraskier fic #geraskier fanfic #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #geralt/jaskier #swashbuckling au #geraskier swashbuckling au #pirate au #geraskier pirate au #geraskier pirates au #geraskier pirates #limrx is a fucking queen and i owe her my life #collab #geraskier collab #limrx #i borrowed starkey from Peter Pan #lambert #eskel #the witcher fanfic

[kaistarus]

The Only Exception

Pairing: NishinoyaXReader

Words: 2.2K

Summary: Nishinoya was genuinely happy with his life. He’d gotten used to being by himself and had accepted the fact that that was how it was supposed to be. Until you came along and threw everything he thought made sense out the window.

A/N: I really like this fic. It’s one of my favorites Nishinoya ones so far just because it’s his pov and timeskip and the amount of love feels makes me happy. i got a lot of serotonin while writing it :D

Masterlist

Nishinoya had never been someone’s first choice.

He knew that sounded dramatic, but it was just a fact of life. The sky was blue, Tanaka could chug three-fourths gallon of milk before vomiting, and Nishinoya was never anyone’s preferred option--which never bothered him so keep the pity to yourself.

He learned to accept this when he never got scouted for the All-Japan Youth Camp and after the only person Nishinoya ever even kind of loved ended up loving his best friend. It taught him to keep his expectations low and to focus on things he could control, which was what led him to solo-traveling Japan and then the world. He realized things might be better on his own, and with the constant itch that he was missing out on something bigger traveling alone just made sense.

But then you came and ruined everything.

Hold on. That came off way more aggressive than Nishinoya wanted. He meant there was a perfect vision for how his life would go-pyramids in Egypt, Hollywood sign in Los Angeles, deep sea fishing in Italy-until he toppled over you in the streets of Italy. He’d been sprinting toward the docks when you stepped out of a marketplace and he collided into you, knocking you flat on your butt and sending your groceries all over the sidewalk. Nishinoya fumbled through his best apology in broken Italian while shoving produce into your paper bag, but froze in surprise when you snorted rather than began an enraged lecture.

He swore his heart actually stopped when your eyes met. You were clearly amused by his flustered behavior and when his heart started back up it was abnormally fast. Not once had he understood what Tanaka meant when he explained the first time he’d seen Kiyoko, but the first time Nishinoya saw you everything Tanaka said clicked. If Nishinoya had been fifteen he probably would’ve proposed to you on the spot.

But he wasn’t, so instead he shakily handed you your groceries with furiously red cheeks.

“Come ti chiami?” You asked with a raised brow.

Nishinoya blinked several times. He racked his brain for what he’d been taught on his last fishing trip, but it was mostly curses and inappropriate sayings he should probably avoid using. He was pretty sure Duolingo mentioned ‘chiamo’ as name though.

“Nishinoya?” He answered like a question and felt relief wash over him when you nodded.

“What are you doing this weekend, Nishinoya?”

He stared blankly before pointing at you with wide eyes, “I understood that.”

“Well you obviously don’t know Italian,” you rolled your eyes and he pouted at the incredibly accurate jab, “so, are you free?”

He looked around the empty street before pointing to himself. “Are you still talking to me?”

“Is there another Nishinoya around here?”

“I mean, there could be.” He looked up thoughtfully. “The odds would be crazy though.”

You laughed lightly which made a warmth creep up his neck. “I’m talking to you. I’m trying to ask you on a date.”

He looked at you like you’d grown a second head. “Why?”

“You’re attractive and you seem nice,” you cocked your head to the side. “Is that not a good reason?”

He stared at the ground intensely. “I guess… It is?” Then his original reason for being there struck him and his eyes widened. “Oh shit. I have to go,” he started leaving before quickly coming back. “Wait, I, uh, yes. Yes to the date thing.”

You chuckled, pulling a cellphone from your pocket to let him hurriedly create his contact before continuing his sprint to the docks-with a teasing recommendation not to knock anyone else over. That literal run in was the moment his entire world view became out of whack.

It wasn’t that he thought he was immune to liking someone-high school Nishinoya fell for any breathing human that gave him attention-he just lost the ability to imagine someone liking him. Maybe he’d been by himself too long or maybe that was just another fact he’d grown used to. He didn’t know anymore.

He did know that when he showed up at the restaurant thirty minutes early-there’s only so much pacing someone can do before they go insane-he hadn’t expected to see you. Just sitting on a bench beside the main entrance, looking too perfect while bouncing a knee and nibbling on your thumb nail as if you were nervous to be there.

Except it was only him, so that wouldn’t make sense.

“Hey,” you said when you spotted him standing in the middle of the sidewalk like an idiot.

“You’re here,” he raised a brow. You took it as the time, but he meant it in a general sense. He truly hadn’t expected you to show up.

“Oh,” you chuckled awkwardly, twisting the material of your clothes. “Yeah, I was kind of nervous.”

He mulled that over for admittedly too long, but it just seemed like such a stupid thing to say. It wasn’t that you looked stupid, but that’s what made it so confusing.

“You’re also early.” You pointed out when the silence became awkwardly long.

“I was nervous.” He said like it should have been obvious.

“At least we’re starting on equal ground,” you said with a shaky breath.

Equal ground? He wasn’t sure his brain was cut out for this type of critical thinking. He’d even spent the past few days planning for every scenario-even you sneaking out the bathroom like in the movies-but he never pictured you being nervous.

“Uh, yeah,” he tapped against his leg while glancing through the window at the half-filled dining area, “we can probably go inside.”

“That’s probably a good idea,” you gave him a quick finger gun before whipping around with shoulders to your ears.

Nishinoya blinked several times before looking back down the street. A part of him thought about running, saving you both from the shitty date to come filled with awful conversation starters he’d pulled from an online article for high schoolers. However his fate was sealed the moment you sent a gentle smile over your shoulder and his feet began following you through the door without his permission.

Ever since that day he’d been waiting for the other shoe to drop. Ever since you giggled behind your hand instead of wincing at the terrible jokes he regretted the moment they left his mouth; ever since you weren’t burdened by the need to translate for him the whole night; and ever since you were amused rather than annoyed at his nervous rambling and awkward icebreakers.

It was just too good to be true.

Like the first time you came over and teased him for the cheesy dialogue in his favorite action movies. How his chest ached when your head rested in his lap and you gazed at him with overwhelming amounts of affection. He’d never dreamed he’d have this-couldn’t have if he tried. Sharing his favorite things with someone while they traced designs against his palm and occasionally sealing them with featherlight kisses. The fire it sent up his arm was too much and not enough and he hadn’t realized how much he’d wanted this.

It was a little scary how much Nishinoya didn’t want to lose it.

And that thought started keeping him up at night. Nishinoya was never really scared of anything-it was kind of what he was known for everywhere he traveled. If anyone needed something done they asked the foreigner with a death wish. So, the idea that you had that effect on him was, again, terrifying.

But what was Nishinoya supposed to do when you press your forehead against his in the middle of the night? Running your fingers through his hair and paying special attention to the blonde strands he’d always been secretly self-conscious of, whispering low how they were one of your favorite things in the world. How could he regret anything when you rubbed your nose lazily against his and kissed him softer than he ever deserved? He didn’t give a shit how scared he was if it meant he could stay like this, with you, for as long as you’d let him.

Because his heart raced a million miles a second when you mindlessly held his hand under a table or leaned against him just to be close. Because for some reason he was the first person you called when you were excited or when you needed comfort. Because when he rambled too long about spearfishing or an old friend’s volleyball game your eyes lit with genuine interest rather than annoyance. And because he was in love with you.

Which he both wasn’t prepared for and had known was inevitable. Falling for you had been like getting hit by a semi-truck he’d seen coming for miles.

It probably happened sooner than socially acceptable, but that didn’t surprise him given his all or nothing nature. This outcome was decided the moment Nishinoya knew he’d be fine with you breaking his heart a hundred times if it meant he could keep waking up next to you cascaded by the rising sun because he was still too lazy to invest in curtains. Just you cuddling closer to him for warmth in your sleep would make every ounce of pain worth it.

Once Nishinoya’d acknowledged his feelings it was nearly impossible keeping them down. With every breathtaking smile, or brush of your hand against his, or bubble of laughter that rang throughout his apartment it nearly spilled from his lips like a breath. It took all self-restraint he had to hold it back. And it wasn’t that he didn’t want you to know because you deserved this piece of him-every piece of him.

He just wasn’t sure you’d want it.

His resolve lasted nearly a month-a month longer than he thought he was capable-before the feeling was too intense for him to keep down. And it wasn’t anything drastic that made him break. No, it was something so absurdly casual that he was almost pissed at himself when the words flowed from his mouth.

It had been a completely average morning, nothing crazy, the weather was actually gross with rain pounding against the windows and the sky a depressing shade of grey. But then you stepped out of his bathroom while rubbing the sleep from your eyes, giving him a lopsided smile before slurring a soft request for breakfast. It was like time froze and he was in a stupid romcom except you were there so it was actually an oscar nominated masterpiece.

Your head lolled to the side, half-lidded eyes filling with concern at his silence. “We can cook together. I didn’t mean it like-”

“I love you.”

That seemed to wake you up. Your body straightened while your mouth hung open in stunned silence. Nishinoya had expected this kind of reaction, so he clenched his fists tight in preparation for the worst.

“Are you sure?” You asked, barely above a whisper. “That’s a pretty serious word, Noya.”

He knew that. Nishinoya had spent too many nights losing sleep over that.

“You scare me,” he confessed, deciding if he was going to dig his grave he might as well make it deep. “I’ve never really been the one someone chooses. More like deal or settle with.” He grimaced when his heart squeezed painfully in his chest, “but I love you more than I thought I could ever love anyone and that scares me. You make me feel wanted and I don’t know what to do with that.”

“Because I do want you.” You whispered and his stare locked on yours so quickly, meeting your loving gaze while his heart started racing. “And everyone you know must be really stupid because I feel lucky I got to choose you. I get to love you.”

He stared at you wide-eyed while his chest swelled with so much emotion he was surprised he hadn’t passed out.

“Sorry, that sounded really lame.” You placed a hand against your forehead and Nishinoya shook his head vigorously.

“I think that was the greatest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

You stepped closer and cradled his face, gently brushing your thumbs along his cheeks. If he wasn’t so manly and awesome he may have teared up, but he definitely didn’t. Which was why you obviously weren’t wiping any water off his cheeks before pulling his lips against yours.

Nishinoya set a languid pace that turned desperate when you tangled your fingers in his hair. He pulled you as close as he could, which was never enough, snaking an arm around your middle and sliding one to cradle the back of your head. 

When it got heated enough that he decided he’d very much like to move it to his bedroom Nishinoya’s stomach growled and you snorted against his lips. Nishinoya pouted, whining when you pulled away with a playful smirk.

“Later,” you said, pinching his cheeks and waving his head around. “Food first. We’re both hungry.”

He did love food.

He disrespectfully watched you leave him in favor of searching the fridge for food that could be thrown together for breakfast. A dopey smile covered his lips because he loved you. He was lucky enough to get to love you. And for some ridiculous fucking reason you were dumb enough to love him.

He would do whatever he could to keep it this way. For now, that was helping you cook breakfast. Tomorrow, who knows? But whatever it was you would be there, so it would be pretty god damn amazing.

#nishinoya yuu #nishinoya yu #nishinoya x reader #nishinoya yu x reader #nishinoya x you #nishinoya yū #nishinoya imagine #nishinoya fluff #haikyuu #haikyuu!! #haikyuu x reader #haikyu!!

[elizabeethan]

Overboard: 1/1

Emma Swan spends years trying to find her parents, and when she finally does, she gets more than she bargains for

A Silver Hook AU for @the-darkdragonfly

hours of watching Wicked Tuna has ruined me and thus this AU was born. Sorry...

Thank you to @the-darkdragonfly, @donteattheappleshook, and @xhookswenchx for listening to my ramblings

Rated M

Read on Ao3

Read my other stuff

~~~~

The sun pours through his blinds, assaulting the lids of her eyes as she squeezes them shut. Delicate fingers dance across the expanse of her bare stomach, making her giggle before she even has the wherewithal to stop herself. As sleep leaves her assuredly, she should feel irritated, but she feels nothing but comfort in her bedmates arms. 

 “It’s rude to wake people up,” she chastises, and his answering hum is deep and rumbling against the skin below her ear. “Shouldn’t you have learned your manners by now?”

“Are you making fun of my age?”

 “I wouldn’t dream of it,” she whispers back, giggling as he pokes his tongue against her skin and then nips at it lightly. 

 “That’s good. Because one mustn’t disrespect one's elder.” 

 “And you are quite a bit older than me,” she points out in jest, rolling onto her right side to face him straight on, her smile beaming as the sun lights her golden hair. He distracts himself from their morning banter to run his fingers delicately over her temple, tracing over the shell of her ear as he tucks a wayward strand behind it. 

 “I seem to recall you being a bit more appreciative last night. What was it you said? Something about my extensive practice?”

 Emma hums softly, nuzzling her face into the skin of his palm as she recalls their rather satisfying evening. “It’s true,” she tells him. “With great age comes great experience.” 

 Killian laughs, refusing to let his thoughts of being too old for her taunt him. “I can assure you, I’m not nearly as experienced as you may believe.” 

With a small shrug, Emma wriggles under the thin sheet that covers them until she can sling her legs over his own. “You’ve got a good decade on me. And trust me, you know what you’re doing.” 

Killian falters, holding her cheek with his palm again as he pushes away more thoughts of self doubt. He stops himself from correcting her- fourteen years, love- and chooses instead to lift his head high enough to meet her lips with his. In the six months that he’s known her, he’s been endlessly fascinated by her free spiritedness. And in the four months since she joined him in his bed, hardly giving him much of a choice to deny her of what she so desperately wanted, he’s been unable to go much more than an hour without thoughts of her plaguing his mind. Thoughts of her body and her mind and her most alluring personality. 

 He’s falling for her, of this he is completely certain. 

 She grins against him in response to the groan that escapes his throat, her tongue lightly tracing the lines of his collarbone and making it that much harder for him to consider getting out of bed. “I’ll surely have a mutiny on my hands if you don’t stop now, love.” 

 Humming in question, Emma sits up and gives him a look of disgruntled confusion. “Your crew is going to be mad that you’re getting laid?” 

 With a smirk, one that he tries to fight, he shakes his head and says, “my crew is going to be mad if I miss another day on the water.” 

 Rolling her eyes, she responds, “I suppose I can’t keep you from your livelihood forever,” in concession. 

 He rolls them easily, Emma much lighter in weight than his usual catches as he flips her onto her back and latches his mouth to her neck. “That’s very considerate of you, siren,” he says against her warm flesh. 

 “I told you, I’m not a damn mermaid,” she says, likely rolling her eyes before she lets out a soft sigh. 

 “Aye, but I find myself struggling to believe you as you continue to seduce me with your wicked ways.” 

 Snorting softly, she meets his mouth with her own, sucking his bottom lip into her mouth gently and tracing her tongue along the tip of his own. She lets her hands wander, careful not to get too explorative with the knowledge that he should be getting up soon as she scrapes her fingers down the taute skin of his back. Despite her jokes, she really doesn’t want to keep him from his vessel. She knows his crew relies on their captain to bring them out each day, especially as the season comes to a close and the pressure to catch becomes more and more. But the way he kisses her gives her other ideas all together. 

 “I think one day I’d like to go out with you,” she hums thoughtfully against his mouth, and he stills anxiously. When they first met upon her first coming to town, Killian was almost embarrassed to tell her what he does for a living for fear of her judgment. Her genuine grin as he explained the way his family has been fishing for generations quelled his nerves, but still it felt like his profession wouldn’t be good enough for the likes of her. 

 “It can be quite dangerous,” he tells her instead, wanting not to dwell on the twinge of embarrassment that sits in the pit of his stomach at the thought of her watching on as he battles each and every paycheck he earns. 

 “I’m sure you’ll keep me safe,” she flirts, tenderly stroking her long fingers through the hair at the base of his scalp and smiling softly up at him. The sun catches her eyes again, the emerald reminding him of the warm ocean water stirred up after a rough storm. 

 His smile is sad and awkward as he turns his face from hers, glancing out the window at the horizon. “I’m sure there are better ways for you to pass your time visiting our sleepy little town.”  

 “Killian,” she says more firmly, moving her hands to cup his cheeks and encourage him to look back down at her. “You know I don’t plan on leaving anytime soon.” 

 The look in his eyes when they finally meet hers cracks her hardened heart, his anticipation of rejection something she knows all too well. “No one would blame you for heading back to Boston, love.” 

 She shakes her head. “I came here to meet my parents. To get to know them. And while that’s still important to me… they're not the only reason I’m sticking around.” 

 He feels selfish, foolish, as he gazes into her deep, soulful eyes. Of course he knows that Emma has a reason to stay in town, but when she says that he’s a part of that, he becomes consumed with a sense of desperate want. A desire to become all of that for her. An insatiable craving to become everything to her. 

 Of course, he’s never had much of a way with words. Thoughts, that’s a different story. But getting those thoughts out of his mouth and into the air between them is almost impossible. So, rather than express himself to her in the way that any mature adult should be able to, he leans down and captures her lips with his in a kiss that he hopes tells her everything that she deserves to know. 

 “You're going to be late,” she murmurs against him. “And as much as it would be nice to meet your friends, I’d rather not do so while I’m naked in your bed. I have a feeling they’re going to come knocking down your door if you don’t get to the docks.” 

 “Aye,” he agrees. “Hopefully we get lucky today and I can come back in relatively early. Will sometimes loses the plot if we come in empty handed.” 

 She rolls her eyes, prepared to make fun of how painfully British he sounds as he crawls over her to the edge of the bed, giving her a rather distracting view of his ass. He may be quite a few years older than her, but the physical nature of his work, and his devotion to his crew leading to him doing as much work as they do, gives him a physique that she isn’t shy about ogling. 

 “Will you tell me when you get in?” she asks shyly, the two of them playing off of the others insecurities without meaning to. “I mean, you don’t have to. But I’d like to see you--” 

 He cuts her off with his mouth on hers, leaning over her so that the stubble on his chin scratches against hers. “Normally, if we catch something, we bring it to the harbormaster to have it dressed and weighed. Perhaps I can inform you when we’re there? And meet you afterwards?” 

 She smiles up at him, careful not to let his words stall her as she considers their content. Perhaps it should have been obvious by now, that a local fisherman should have to deal with the harbormaster on a fairly regular basis, but the topic has never come up and so it’s stayed far from the front of her mind. “Okay,” she finally chokes out nervously. She’s always been good at hiding the intricacies of how she’s feeling, but given the way his eyes narrow at her, she wonders if she’s losing her touch. “I look forward to it.” 

 “Very good. Perhaps you’d… that is… I wonder if you’d be amenable to--” 

 “Killian.” 

 He clears his throat, standing from the bed and stepping away from the mattress to grab one of his aged knit sweaters. He’s rather old school in his techniques, she’s found, and the old fisherman sweaters that he wears out on his small fishing vessel are no exception. 

 Watching as he wrestles a pair of jeans over his legs, she giggles and sits up, bringing his thin sheet with her to cover her breasts modestly. Finally, while he stands by the door and fascens his watch to his wrist, he asks, “I simply wondered if you’d perhaps be interested in joining me for… a meal.” 

 Emma sits stoically still under his sheets as he fiddles around the room anxiously, refusing to look her way out of embarrassment and fear of rejection. She knows the feeling well, so she sits and waits for his eyes to dart in her direction before she gives him a soft, encouraging smile. “Are you asking me out?” she finally asks, and she watches his throat bob up and down before he turns to face her. 

 Clearing his throat, he says, “ah, I suppose I am.” 

 Really, it’s about bloody time he asks. Each time they’ve been together-- each time they’ve been anywhere near each other-- it’s been with her making the first move. He should be grateful for her willingness to take the leap that they both want to take, but after four months, he figures he’d best put his fears aside and grow a pair already. 

 It’s not that he thinks she’ll say no, although rejection is painful enough. His worry is that she’ll say yes, and eventually realize how much better she could have it. He’s a forty-year-old fisherman, for goodness sake. At only just twenty-six, she could certainly land a man with a more respectable, more lucrative, less deadly job, and that fact isn’t lost on him. It hasn’t been since the moment he first saw her at The Rabbit Hole six months ago. 

 She hums happily, smiling up at him and nodding. “I guess this means you’ll have to come in tonight. Better catch a good one, Captain.” 

 ~~~~

 “Oi, he lives!” Will calls from the dock next to Killian’s small boat, grinning and shoveling a pile of ice into the compartment under the deck. “We were worried you’d forgotten about us.” 

 “No,” Killian replies simply, shaking his head and climbing aboard. He makes his way into the wheelhouse, dropping his bag and turning the engine over. “We’ll need to get fuel before we head out.” 

 “Something you forgot to do last night? Perhaps you were too busy?” Robin asks, winking at his captain. 

 He rolls his eyes rather than responding, turning the engine on and checking the gauges as he listens to his mates making assumptions about his whereabouts. 

 When they finally get out onto the water, they avoid the other boats in the fleet in favor of finding solitude. A lot of the other captains think that Killian has some secret knowledge about the best places to drop anchor, but really, he just listens to his gut and gets lucky most of the time. 

 “So,” Will starts once they’ve put their lines out and chummed the water. “The blonde?”

 Killian glares at his deckhand and friend, unwilling to give him much information about what he gets up to when they’re not at sea. He knows they did a piss poor job of keeping things quiet when they started up… whatever it is that they’ve started up, what with Emma practically jumping him after a few too many flirty comments were exchanged between the two of them. Everyone in the Rabbit Hole saw them that night, Emma’s fingers tightly gripping the lapels of his jacket and his sliding under her shirt and into her hair. Everyone saw them leaving together, too. His desire to hide her away and ensure that no one ever finds out about them is wholly unreachable at this point. He only wishes that he could quell his own fears about the judgment that the townsfolk must be passing on them. Emma is young, Killian is decidedly not. Emma can do better, Killian is batting far out of his league. Emma is an energetic young lady with her whole life and an endless amount of opportunities in front of her, Killian is a mildly successful fisherman. He can’t ever hope to be good enough for her, and the whole town knows it. 

 “Aye, the blonde,” he finally mumbles, wishing he could dive into the waves and never be heard from again. 

 “She’s quite something.” 

 “Aye.” 

 “A few years younger than you, if I had to guess.” 

 He glares to his left as Will continues to reel in some herring to use for bait, catching five at once without even blinking. Their age difference isn’t a secret, and it isn’t difficult to pick up on by simply observing the two of them for a few moments. The wrinkles around Killian’s eyes and the gray peppered throughout his hair and concentrated at his temples makes his age quite obvious. Meanwhile, Emma’s flawless physique and supple skin gives way to her youth, although her maturity is observable as well. One couldn’t possibly guess her to be a day over twenty-eight, and even then, she may seem too young for him. 

 Finally, he agrees, “aye.” 

 “Well, I think they make a lovely couple,” Robin supplies, poking his head out of the wheelhouse. “Sorry sod deserves a bit of happiness, finally.” 

 Rolling his eyes, Killian can’t help but agree with his friend’s sentiment. Despite the awkwardness and the assumptions of others, he can’t deny how happy he’s been since she rolled into town. And he definitely can’t deny how much happier he’s been in the last four months since she went home with him. 

 “I’m not sure she’ll be in town much longer,” Killian finally says after too much silence passes between the three of them, their lines quiet and the ocean seemingly empty below them. 

 “Didn’t she come searching for her parents?” 

 “Aye, she found them when she first arrived. But I can’t imagine her sticking around… I believe she simply wanted to get to know them a bit and then head back to Boston.”

 Will and Robin must read the shift in his mood easily, the obvious disdain for the idea of her leaving Storybrooke and going back to the busy city where she could so easily meet someone worthy of her time. Perhaps he should let her go himself, be the one to make the difficult decision for them so as to not drag things out too long, but he’s a glutton for punishment and can’t possibly consider the idea of being separated from Emma Swan for a second longer than he absolutely has to be. 

 Rather than continuing the topic and torture Killian with thoughts of Emma inevitably leaving him, they change the subject to something equally as painful when Will jokes, “I’m sure her parents love you, aye? That age difference must have gone over well with dear-old-dad.” 

 Killian cringes and shakes his head. “I doubt they even know about me. I certainly don’t know much about them, aside from what she’s told me.”

 “So she talks about that stuff with you?” 

 “Aye.” Will make a face, clearly surprised at his statement, and glances over at Robin suspiciously. “What?” 

 Robin shakes his head, casting another bait line, and says, “Nothing, we both just assumed it was just sex, that’s all.”

 “What do you mean?” he asks curiously. It’s not because this is just sex to him, but because he’s curious about what they seem to think makes it not just sex for Emma. 

 Will laughs lightly, cheering when he brings in another line full of herring. “Mate, if she’s talking about her family, it’s not just sex.” 

 He hums thoughtfully, supposing that must be true. Emma wouldn’t confide in him about her upbringing— and her trauma, and her fears of abandonment— unless she was comfortable with him, would she? She wouldn’t have tried to process her feelings surrounding her adoption if she didn’t trust him, would she? She wouldn’t have agreed to a date with him tonight if some part of her didn’t like him, right? 

 “I love the look on his face when realization strikes,” Will jokes, bumping Killian with his elbow. He looks like he’s about to say more, perhaps another jest, perhaps something that will give Killian more insight into his companionship, but the radar starts marking fish and they each stand still and silent in anticipation. 

 The line starts clicking with the indication that something may be going for the bait, and when the reel begins screaming as the fish in question tries to escape, they jump into action. There’s shouting and running and fierce reeling, and it’s almost enough to get Killian’s mind off of Emma bloody Swan. 

 ~~~~

 Emma tries not to drag her feet as she makes her way down the main dock, the chilled ocean air sending a shiver down her spine despite her borrowing Mary Margaret’s windbreaker. With the season coming to close in a few weeks, the late fall weather sends a damp chill through her bones that she isn’t used to despite growing up in Minnesota. 

 It’s not as if she isn’t excited to see David this evening. She’s been spending time with him and Mary Margaret, and their son Leo as well, fairly regularly since she’s come to town. But things have been awkward to say the least. 

 She didn’t know about her brother when she arrived in Storybrooke. Finding out about him, finding out that he’s just turned eighteen, making them almost eight years apart, hurt a bit. Of course she understands that people change a lot in eight years. But the fact is, her parents had her and gave her away. They had her brother and raised him. It stings. 

 It stings. But it isn’t something any of them can change now. So she puts it behind her, just like Ingrid taught her. 

 If she wasn’t raised by such a soft, caring woman for most of her life, Emma’s certain she would be a different person from who she’s become. She had every chance to build walls as high as the eye can see, but Ingrid broke them down little by little from the day she welcomed Emma into her house when she was eight years old. After being given back by two families in a row, she was seen as broken, as damaged goods, as a stray no one could truly want. But Ingrid saw through her trauma and her bad behavior and welcomed her with open arms. 

 When she became sick, Ingrid gave Emma all of the information she was able to dig up on her parents. It wasn’t much to go on, and Emma initially refused to use any of it for fear of hurting her mother’s feelings. She didn’t want to make Ingrid feel like she was trying to replace her by finding her birth parents. But as Ingrid lay on her deathbed, the ovarian cancer too much for her frail frame to fight any longer, she begged Emma to seek her parents out, telling her that she deserves answers. That no matter the choice they made all those years ago, they deserve to know the beautiful woman they brought into this world. 

 She couldn’t exactly turn her down. So, traumatized and heartbroken, she put all that she had into expanding upon her mother’s research until finally, almost two years later, she found them. 

 David and Mary Margaret Nolan. She found them in a small fishing town off the coast of Maine, well known on the East Coast for their lucrative bluefin tuna fishing season. 

 It wasn’t exactly what she expected. And when she knocked on their door and a gangly teenager answered, she’ll admit to feeling slighted. 

 Okay, perhaps irrationally angry is more accurate. And if her method of coping was to go to the first bar she could find and get completely obliterated, so be it. The handsome man in the soft, cream colored sweater helping her to her room at Granny’s was an added bonus. 

 “Hey, Ems,” David calls from his makeshift desk where he does all of his accounting and paperwork. She’s sat here a few times before, but found herself bored out of her mind in a matter of minutes as she watched him work over his ledgers. 

 “Hi,” she greets back. She’s found that she doesn’t really call them anything. It doesn't feel right to call them mom or dad, because she had a mom. And while David may be her biological father, he isn’t really her dad. So instead, she doesn’t address them as anything. 

 “I’ve got a couple of boats coming in,” he informs her. “Season’s almost over, so the fish are big this time of year. You may get to see some record-breakers.” 

 “Cool,” she smiles, taking a seat on the folding table he sits at all day, cringing as it creaks under her weight. 

 “I think your… I think Mary Margaret is gonna come out tonight too. We were thinking of grabbing dinner. You know, celebrate the weekend, and all that.” 

 With a small grin coloring her features, her heart skips a beat at the thought of the sailor hopefully making his way to shore as they speak. She doesn’t doubt that he’s on his way, but she isn’t sure how happy he’ll be if he comes in empty handed and with an angry crew. “I actually have plans,” she tells him with a blush. 

 “Dinner plans?” 

 “Yep,” she answers with a nod. “A date.” 

 “A date,” David says, his brows drawing close together as he crosses his arms over his chest. “Who are you--” 

 He’s interrupted by his wife, her excited voice carrying across the length of the docks as she hurries towards them. “Emma!” she shouts as she gets closer. “Hi, honey!” 

 She tenses slightly at the title, still feeling uncomfortable when she hears words of affection coming from the woman who gave birth to her. She smiles anyway, waving softly and hopping off of the table, letting the woman embrace her briefly before pulling away. “Hi.” 

 “Did your father ask you to dinner? We figured we’d celebrate the weekend starting. Plus, it seems like the fleet did really well this week, doesn't it, David? The buyers are always more generous at the end of the season--” 

 “Emma has plans,” David cuts her off. “A date.” 

 “A date?”

 “A date.” 

 “Do you guys mind?” she asks, only half joking. It’s been hard enough opening up to them and letting them into her heart and her personal life. She does try to not use humor as a way to keep them at a distance, really. 

 Mary Margaret clears her throat, smiling at Emma sweetly and only a bit awkwardly. “Who is your date with, sweetheart?” 

 “Well,” she starts turning to face David, “you might actually know him.” 

 “Oh, hold that thought for just a second, Ems. A boat’s coming in.” 

 She turns to face the water below them, noting the modestly sized vessel floating towards the loading dock. Two crewmen stand outside, grabbing for ropes as they pull themselves against the dock while the captain stands in the wheelhouse, diligently watching as he guides the boat. She smiles at the sight, taking in his ruffled appearance and the fact that he’s changed his sweater, wondering what happened out at sea to make the other one unwearable. 

 “Evening, Dave,” one of his mates calls, waving in their direction once the boat is secured to the dock. “We’ve got two big ones for ya.” 

 David praises him, watching as they open up a small hatch in the floor of the boat and reveal two massive fish. Emma’s never seen anything like it, the tunas taking up the entire space below the main deck. They must be almost twice as long as she is tall. “Think we’ve got a good thousand pounds here,” the other man calls as he wraps a rope around one of the tails. “Hope we can lift it.” 

 Killian trips and stumbles when he sees her, the blush on his cheeks spreading to his ears and down his neck and reminding her of how he looks when he’s about to finish inside her. The thought makes her blush as well as she grins down at him, giving him a small wave. He’s been quiet and shy for as long as she’s known him, but he’s also professional, and his silence and lack of greeting is almost concerning. 

 He climbs off the boat, hoisting himself easily onto the dock as the muscles under his sweater ripple with the effort. Clearing his throat, he finally makes eye contact with her, smiling awkwardly as his blush deepens. “Evening, Miss Swan,” he says sweetly, reminding her of when they met months ago. She’s not sure she likes it. 

 “Hi, Killian,” she responds with a smirk, making his blush deepen and heating him to an uncomfortable temperature in his dampened sweater. The first fish they caught was barely above the length requirement and relatively easy to hoist onto the deck, but the second has to be one of the largest they’ve ever gotten, and it put up one hell of a fight. 

 “You two know each other?” David asks, glancing between him and Emma, and it strikes Killian that she isn’t here waiting for him like he thought. She’s standing by the harbormaster, relatively close to his wife and child, and things start to fall into place in his mind. 

 They’ve talked about her parents briefly, about how they were young when they had her and made the decision to give her up at the persuasion of both of their parents. She told him about how they had a son a few years later and raised him. She just never told him that her father is the bloody harbormaster. 

 “Yeah,” she answers finally, giving David Nolan a smile that Killian recognizes. It’s the same one that David gives him when he catches a big fish; friendly and necessary but not entirely genuine. She doesn’t expand upon how they met, or how they know each other, or the nature of their relationship, and the harbormaster looks at Killian suspiciously as the machinery lifts his second fish onto the dock. 

 David evaluates each fish and offers him a hefty price for the both of them. The second one, the one that gave them such trouble, is over a thousand pounds, just like Will had guessed, so they make out very well after just one days work. Normally, their undeniable success would be enough to erase any negative thought floating around in Killian’s head, but all he can focus on is the fact that he’s pretty sure he’s standing beside the father of the woman he’s sleeping with.

 He tries to be an adult about it, ignoring the awkward air that has settled between them as David’s family watches on happily, but when Emma asks, “are you ready to go, Killian?” everyone’s eyes dart up immediately. 

 Thankfully, the check had already been cut and handed to Killian, because he’s almost certain that he wouldn’t have gotten his hands on it if Emma’s question had come any sooner. He watches as David’s eyes grow twice their normal size, his wife’s mouth falling agape as she turns to stare at Emma in complete shock. 

 “No,” David says immediately, shaking his head in denial and turning to face his daughter. “Absolutely not.” 

 “Excuse me?” Emma asks, raising both brows in challenge and taking a step away from her mother and towards Killian. She sees his eyes widening and darting between the three of them nervously as the exchange becomes more and more tense. 

 The man, only slightly older than Killian, clears his throat and looks at his daughter again before saying, “please tell me you're not dating him.” 

 “How dare you,” she accuses immediately, stepping back once more until she stands beside Killian, his warmth radiating off of him and comforting her just slightly in the wake of her anger. She doesn’t even know why he would say something like that, what would make him feel the need to say that, but she’s quick to become defensive. She knows Killian is a good person, and she feels immediately as if this man has no right to dictate who she dates. 

 “Honey,” Mary Margaret starts, stepping closer to her and placing her hand on her elbow just as Emma pulls away. She looks in Killian’s direction awkwardly and tensely before trying again. “It’s just… he’s a bit older...” 

 “I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” she says angrily, and notices David stiffening beside his wife. 

 “Emma, please. He just catches fish for half a year. You’re too young to be thinking about settling down with someone who doesn’t have a stable career. Not to mention, he’s almost the same age as me and your mother.” 

 She senses him becoming rigid beside her, his shoulders rising slightly and his jaw clenching in tense discomfort at the accusation. They’ve had this conversation briefly several times, sometimes jokingly and sometimes out of his own insecurities. He’s always seen himself as too old for her-- too old, too common, not good enough-- and the confirmation from her father surely hurts him. 

 Of course, they’ve never talked much about who her parents are. They’ve had their share of conversations about her past and why she’s here, so he knows plenty about the things that she’s been through, but she never felt the need to tell him who they are. She never even put two and two together that he may know her father until this morning. And now she’s hurt him by keeping this from him. 

 With shock and anger, she answers too loudly. “Well, it’s not my fault you guys had me at 17, it is? And are you really judging him for his job? He works hard every day!”

 “Emma,” Killian tries softly, placing his hand on her elbow, but she pulls away in the same way that she had with her mother. 

 “No! They have no right to judge you for what you do for a living. Or us for our age difference. This is completely ridiculous.”

 “It’s alright, love,” he says, resigning to the fact that he’s likely going to lose her. Her parents are right; his job is seasonal and not always as lucrative as he would like, and he’s closer in age to her parents than he is to her. It was bound to end eventually, he tells himself sadly, as she deserves so much more than he’s able to give her. “I’ll go.” 

 “You’re not going anywhere unless you're bringing me with you,” she gripes angrily, grabbing his hand in her own and yanking him away from where her parents are standing. He lets her pull him along, looking back nervously at the harbormaster and his wife as they gape at the two of them. 

 ~~~~

 “How dare they,” she grumbles, slamming his front door harder than he thinks she means to. “I mean, they barely know me, never mind you.” 

 “Emma,” he tries, but she refuses to let him get a word in edgewise as she continues her venting. 

 “It would be one thing if they had actually raised me. If they instilled in me these values that they seem to think puts them on a pedestal. But they gave me away.”

 He guides her gently through his small cottage, the weight of his hand on the small of her back serving as a reminder that he’s here for her. 

 “Emma,” he repeats once they’re sitting and she’s able to hear him. “You know I understand.”

 She does know this. He told her one night, while their legs were entwined and their arms were around one another, about the way his father abandoned him and his brother when he was just a boy. “I know,” she confirms softly. 

 “And you also know that I hate the idea of getting in between you and your family. They’re the reason you’re here in the first place, love.”

 She stares at him for a moment, taking in the meaning of his words and angering when she realizes that he thinks he’s the problem here. 

 “Stop,” she insists suddenly. “If you’re making me consider them my family, then I’m going to consider you my family, too.”

 “Love--”

 “I’ve known you the same amount of time as I have them. And you’ve never once judged me, or let me down, or made me feel… like I’m doing something wrong.”

 His face drops slightly in response to her words as he saddens. It kills him to know that she’s been made to feel this way. “I appreciate hearing that, love. But at the same time… they have a point. I’m closer in age to your parents than I am to you.”

 “Please,” she says, rolling her eyes and pushing his shoulders until he’s lying down and she’s lying across his chest. “You should hear about some of the other guys I’ve dated. You being old is nothing.”

 He pinches her hip in response to her jest and says, “I dare not hear about them, or else I may leave here and start a fight with each of them.”

 “You’re too old to fight.”

 “Aye, that’s right.”

 They lie in comfortable silence, Killian’s tired arms running up and down along her spine until her breathing evens out. It’s either an indication that she’s feeling less angry, or that she’s fallen asleep, but he knows it to be the former when she speaks up. 

 “Do you know that you smell really bad? Like… I mean really bad.”

 “Thank you, darling.”

 “You’re welcome,” she says, and he can hear the sly smile in her voice without needing to see her perfect face. “You know, I could probably help you with that.”

 “Is that so?” he asks in falsified surprise. 

 “Yes,” she nods. “A nice hot shower is just what the doctor ordered.”

 “Oh, are we playing doctor now, Swan?” 

 “Ugh, no, Jones. It isn’t 1950 anymore, old man. Kids don’t play doctor. Now come with me if you want me to soap you up.”

 She yanks him from the couch, guiding him through his small space until they reach the shower. It’s a tight fit, squeezing the both of them inside, but she somehow manages to get on her knees before him and quell his anxieties that he’s not good enough for her. Her mouth is useful when it’s using words to comfort him, and it’s just as useful when she’s using it to worship him until he can finish in the back of her throat. 

 As she stands slowly and salaciously, the warm water trickles down her face and into her hair, dampening the flawless length of her body as she reaches behind him for the body wash. “Does this mean you aren’t going to leave me?” she asks softly as she squeezes some soap into her palm. He can barely stand straight, leaning against the wall of the shower as she begins to lather the soap over the coarse hair on his chest. 

 His thoughts finally return to him and he says, “please tell me you didn’t just give me the best blowjob of my life as a means to convince me.” 

 She snorts, wrapping her arms around his waist and running her hands up and down his back. He knows she’s trying to follow through on her promise to soap him up, but she grabs onto his rear and he isn’t sure if she’s cleansing him correctly. “No,” she responds, pressing her lips to his neck and licking along his racing pulse. “But... did it help persuade you?” 

 He hums, not trusting his own voice and nodding. “It did,” he breathes, then he rights himself and remembers how imperative it is that he get his point across. “Emma, I don't want to leave you. I don’t think I’ll ever be happy if you aren’t by my side. I just… I only want to do what’s best for you.” 

 “You are what’s best for me,” she says, her voice barely audible over the sound of the running water. She finally looks up, releasing her lips and tongue from his skin and meeting his eyes with hers. “I never… I mean, I didn't grow up with a family. I know how to get by without my parents. But it’s-- It’s different with you. Ingrid always said that I need to fight for my happiness. I finally understand what she meant now that I’ve met you. I can’t lose you.”

 Her words are so soft, so small, that he could have missed them. If he wasn’t watching the way her lips moved when she spoke, he would have. The way that she’s able to perfectly express how she’s feeling, while also giving words to the way that he feels about her, makes his heart practically jump out of his chest. 

 “Love,” he breathes, his voice gruff and barely audible as he cups her cheek with his palm. “I can’t lose you either.” 

 “You just mean a lot to me,” she whispers. 

 “Aye. You mean more to me than I could put into words.” 

 “Then please don’t leave me,” she mouths. He knows she had the intention to say the words aloud, but it’s as if she isn’t able to. 

 He’s unable to form the words that he so desperately wants to, either, so he leans in close to her and captures her lips between his own, molding their mouths together as if they were made for each other. And she kisses him back in a way that conveys how she feels about him. 

 Her fingers slide through his chest hair, scratching along his skin as they glide up towards his neck. She grips the back of his hair with her fingers, grounding herself through the emotion of the entire evening. It was hard enough on her when she learned her parents disapproved of her lover. Harder still when she found out he was considering leaving her for what he assumed was her own good. Now, she can’t get enough of the soothing comfort that comes from being with him. 

 He reaches behind himself, easily shutting off the flow of the water so that the silence of the room consumes them. The only sounds between them are the weakened, aged fan and the sounds of their heavy breathing. 

 “I’m— I—.” She starts speaking, but cuts herself off in favor of kissing him again. 

 “Aye,” he agrees, and although he doesn’t know what she was going to say exactly, he has a hunch and hopes to any god who may be listening that he’s right.  

 “Take me to bed,” she asks against his mouth. “I need you.” 

 He doesn’t waste a moment; when Emma Swan tells him to take her to bed, he knows he’d better listen. Pushing the curtain aside, he holds it open for her and allows her to step out of the shower, holding onto her elbow in hopes that he’s offering her some semblance of support. It’s entirely unnecessary, though; Emma Swan is the strongest person he’s ever met. She gives him a soft smile in thanks, grabbing his towel off of the hook and using it to dry herself quickly before turning it towards him and tossing it into his hair. She scrubs the towel through the gray and black locks playfully, giggling when she lifts it over his eyes and smiling at him so brightly that he finds it impossible not to grin back. “Thank you,” he says softly, and she leans forward, holding the towel around his head and using it like a hood to pull him into a kiss. 

 What starts as chaste and gentle turns heated and passionate in second, her tongue sliding against his and her hands lighting a trail of fire as they scratch down his back. He picks her up easily, her slender frame much less heavy than the monsters he battled earlier, and carries her bridal style over the threshold of the bathroom and towards the bed they’ve been sharing. The bed in which he hopes to never sleep alone again. 

 He presses her down into the mattress, making her groan into his mouth and wrap her ankles around his hips. She’s desperate to pull him closer to her, to have him inside her until she’s seeing stars behind her eyelids. He never fails to bring her ecstasy, each time they’re together fighting for the title of ‘the best time’. When his fingers find her sensitive and soaked for him, he smirks against her lips and kisses her harder. When he slides into her, making her gasp with the welcome ache as he stretches her, they press their foreheads together and breathe each other in. He rocks into her slowly and gently, exactly as she needs him. He reads her effortlessly and flawlessly, stroking her above where their bodies join until she’s powerless to stop the desperate noises from filling the room. 

 She squeezes her entire body around him as they finish together, and she cries out his name in loving praise as he spills himself into her. He can’t get enough of her, the high of being with her is like a drug from which he will never be fully sated, and he will never stop trying to bring her pleasure and joy and contentment for as long as she allows him to stay by her side. 

 The hum that leaves her throat as they come down together relays exactly how he feels as well. They’re sated for now as they embrace each other, although he knows that his longing for her is only slightly extinguished, only to be fueled again with just the slightest encouragement from her. 

 “That was nice,” she breathes nonchalantly, making him smile softly through hooded eyes as he rolls onto his side to look at her longingly. 

 “That’s one word for it, I suppose,” he concedes, running his hand up and down along the length of her waist. Her eyes flutter shut at the tickling sensation and she leans close to him to press a soft kiss to his lips. 

 “Very excellent? As if I was being fucked by a savant? Is that better?” 

 “No,” he whispers, “I think you’re just making fun of my age again with that one.” 

 With a soft grin, she says, “you’re pretty slick for an old guy.” 

 “Hush.” 

 She snuggles into his chest, resting her head under his chin and kissing against his collarbone before uttering, “a quick nap, and then you’re taking me to dinner.” 

 “Your heart’s desire, Swan. I promise that’s all I want you to have.” 

 ~~~~

 There’s an old wives tale, apparently, that tuna are more active during a storm. At least, that’s what Killian told Emma when he left that morning with the sky bright red. She was expecting him to heed the weather advisory and the warnings given by the coast guard that it isn’t safe for small crafts to be out during the oncoming storm, but of course, he’s as stubborn as she is and dedicated to his career and to his crew. They all want to go out and catch fish, so that’s what they do. 

 It’s not like she doesn’t trust his abilities as the captain, because of course she does. And it’s not like she’s naive enough to think that he’s never been out in bad weather before. But they’d just had a heart to heart a few nights ago, and if she loses him to a storm, she’s certain that she’ll lose what’s left of her sanity as well. 

 The fact is, she loves him. She knows she does, and she knows that she has since the moment she met him. She doesn’t care that he’s older than her, or that he works seasonally, or that he considers himself to be not good enough for her. What matters is that he’s the kindest person she’s ever met. He’s the most generous man who’s ever been in her life. She’s never met someone so gentle and caring and utterly perfect, and she feels physically sick at the thought of losing what she has with him. 

 He makes her want to be a better person. He makes her strive for patience and understanding, rather than impulsivity. He makes her rethink her tendency to shut people out before they can hurt her. She’s better for having met him, and she fears what she could become if she loses him to a crashing wave or a sinking ship. 

 After he leaves, after she watches as he sets off into the open ocean, she heads to Granny’s, the wind already strong enough to push her in that direction. She has a room rented out, but she hasn’t been in it in days in favor of staying with Killian, locking themselves away from the world and letting themselves be consumed with one another. She dreads the idea of going to her empty room, the one that isn’t hers and Killian’s, but she’s in need of a good facemask after neglecting her routine for days on end, and she could use a change of clothes that don’t belong to him.

 After showering and, admittedly, taking an unexpected nap, she wakes ready for an order of grilled cheese and onion rings. The bell above the door chimes when she opens it, and Granny gives her a quick yet welcoming smile. “Afternoon,” she calls from behind the counter. “Want a seat with your folks?”

 Emma groans internally as she turns and sees her parents and brother sitting in a booth, each of them giving her a kind smile. She returns it, although hers is much tighter than theirs seem to be, and says, “sure,” in a less-than-convincing tone. 

 “Hi, honey,” Mary Margaret says when Emma approaches them reluctantly, and she tries (and probably fails) to hide her cringe. 

 “Hey.” 

 David slides over towards the wall, offering her the only available seat beside him. “Been a few days, huh? How’s it going?” 

 “Fine,” she shrugs. “I’ve been staying with Killian.” 

 She watches as her parents stiffen, her brother obviously indifferent to her dating life. “That’s… nice,” Mary Margaret forces out, her discomfort so plainly written across her face that Emma has to stop herself from rolling her eyes. She didn’t come here to start anything, and she didn’t sit with them because she wanted to argue, but it’s becoming more and more difficult. 

 “Yes, it is nice. Killian is nice. And polite, and compassionate, and perfect in every way. So yes, it’s been a very pleasant few days.” 

 “I’m glad you’ve… I'm glad that you’re happy,” Mary Margaret chokes out. 

 “I am.” 

 They’re silent. Emma’s lunch is delivered to the table and they eat quietly, the only sounds between the four of them the bustle of the diner and the appreciative hum that David gives with each bite of soup. The wind whips outside, rattling the windows violently and blowing over a table on Granny’s patio. Many of the patrons stand, David and Leo included, and hurry outside to right the fallen piece of furniture, and Emma begins to gnaw at the short nail on her left thumb. 

 “It’s bad out there,” she remarks obviously, her leg bouncing up and down in quick, anxious succession. “I hope--” 

 She notes the way Mary Margaret looks out the window with wide eyes, realization setting in as the source of her daughter’s fear becomes obvious. “Emma, is he out there? In this weather?” 

 Emma looks at her mother and, for the first time since they’ve met, finds comfort in her eyes rather than a reason for distrust. “Yes,” she chokes out in a whisper, sucking her lips between her teeth. “He said he’d be fine, but…” 

 Mary Margaret nods in understanding. “It’s kind of bad out there.” Emma nods, too. “I can see why you’re so worried.” 

 “His boat is pretty small,” she explains, her voice shaking. “But he said it’s the best time to catch the fish.” 

 “That’s what your father always says, too,” Mary Margaret responds, reaching across the table and giving Emma’s hand a squeeze. For the first time since she’s met her mother, she doesn't pull away. “I’m sure he’ll be alright. He’s a knowledgeable captain.” 

 “He has been doing this a while,” Emma reasons, mostly with herself. 

 Mary Margaret sighs, giving Emma’s hand one final squeeze before letting go and leaning forward towards her daughter. “Sweetheart,” she starts, pursing her lips together thoughtfully. “I-- I’d like to apologize for the way your father and I reacted the other night. It wasn’t fair of us to judge your… relationship.” 

 Emma looks up into the eyes of the woman who gave birth to her, the woman who gave her away, and sees truth behind them. “It wasn’t,” she agrees. 

 “I can tell now that you truly care for him.” 

 “I do,” she nods. “Very much.” 

 “It’s just that,” she starts slowly, noticing her husband and son reentering the diner. “Well, you’re our little girl. It was surprising to find out that you’ve been seeing someone, never mind someone so much older than you. We just want what’s best for you.” 

 David sits beside Emma again and Leo takes his seat next to his mother, both of them looking as though they realize that they’ve walked into a pretty serious conversation. Emma thinks about holding back with their arrival, especially considering the presence of her brother, but she simply can’t. 

 “No offense or anything, but… I'm not your little girl. I never was. I never got the chance to be. And Killian’s age means nothing to me because he’s the best person I’ve ever known. No one else I’ve dated has ever treated me nearly as well as he has; no one listens to me or cares for me or loves me the way he does. And as terrifying as it is, because my dating history has seriously sucked, I know he loves me without even hearing him say it. And I… I love him too. And I’m really going insane right now not knowing if he’s alright out there, and you judging me for being with him isn’t helping how crazy I feel.” 

 The table is silent for an uncomfortable amount of time, and Emma chooses to go back to eating her onion rings and nervously bouncing her feet against the floor. Mary Margaret gulps, David’s wide eyes look between Emma and his wife, and Leo awkwardly eats his fries in the same way that Emma does. It’s the most painful silence she thinks she’s ever sat through. 

 “I’m sorry,” David finally says softly, turning his entire body so that he can face Emma. “It startled and surprised us when we found out, but you’re right. It isn’t fair for us to judge you. We’re clinging to the hope that you’d be, well, our little girl. But it’s time we realize that isn’t realistic and celebrate the time that we do get to spend with you. No matter who you choose to spend your time with.” 

 “Thanks,” she mumbles. She appreciates the sentiment, truly, but she gets the feeling there’s a but coming. 

 “I just hope that he feels as strongly for you as you clearly do for him.” 

 She tries her hardest to ensure that the look she gives him from the corner of her eye is not a glare, and she nods. “He does.” 

 “Alright, then,” David says casually, folding up his napkin and placing it on his plate before grabbing for his wallet. “Let's head to the docks and check the radar, then, shall we?” 

 Her eyes widen with anticipation and relief as she asks, “can you do that?” 

 “I’m the harbormaster. I can do whatever I want,” he says with a smirk and a wink shot in her direction. She follows him out of the booth with more enthusiasm than she’s felt all day, practically skipping out of the diner behind her father. 

 ~~~~

 “I can hear all of the long-range radio communications on here,” he explains once they arrive at his makeshift office. He pulls out his chair for her and lets her sit while he adjusts the receiver. “You’ll just have to listen out for him. So far, no distress signals or anything, though.” 

 “Good,” she agrees. She jumps in excitement when she hears a message coming through, and even though it isn’t from Killian, she knows he’s out there with this other captain. 

 She listens in silence for a while, David leaning against the table beside her and Mary Margaret and Leo standing off to the side and talking quietly. She hears many messages come in, many captains talking back and forth about the storm and the choppy waters and the dangerous conditions. A few of them have caught some fish, so she supposes it was worth it to them, but she hasn’t heard anything from Killian. 

 Eventually, after what feels like far too much time has passed, she hears someone ask for him. Emma desperately wishes there was a transmitter that would allow her to speak to him, but all she can do now is sit by and listen. 

 “Jolly, you still on?” the man asks, and David translates to let Emma know that they're wondering if Killian is still reeling in a tuna. 

 There isn’t a response, though. David explains that each captain should let the others in the fleet know when they’ve caught something, and Killian’s lack of response probably means that he and his crew are still wrestling with the giant beast. At least, that’s what she tells herself. 

 “Jolly Roger, come in. You guys still on?” 

 “Guess that means yes,” another captain responds after a moment. “‘Less he went overboard.”

 Emma pales, putting her hand over her mouth and biting her lip until David places his hand on her shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze. “He’s joking,” he tells her. “They’re all like that. A bunch of ball-busters.” 

 She nods and gulps, listening on as the fleet’s captains joke with each other as if there isn’t a nor'easter threatening to capsize each and every one of them. As if it isn’t possible that it’s already taken the man she loves away from her. She hears one of them saying that they’re on their way back to the docks, having caught a fish big enough to justify ending their trip, and she silently begs anyone who might be listening that Killian is finishing up catching something big and will do the same. 

 Eventually, after far too long, someone speaks up and says, “I’m going in, too. Anyone hear from Jones?” 

 “No,” another answers. “He was fighting something big; hopefully they catch it soon. Gettin’ bad out here.” 

 Emma knows she can’t wait at the docks for him forever. It’s unrealistic, and she’s going to freeze to death. It’s nearly winter, and the mixture of snow and rain and heavy wind that assaults her in the scarcely covered dock is starting to soak down to her bones. But she can’t leave. She still hasn’t heard Killian’s voice over the radio-- it’s been pretty silent for the last hour-- and she can’t get herself to leave before she knows that he’s alright. 

 Mary Margaret apologizes as she leaves, bringing Leo with her to get warm. She says she’ll have a mug of cocoa waiting for Emma at Granny’s, but she isn’t sure when she’ll make it over there. Despite how cold and wet she is, she can’t leave here until he gets back. She can’t even think of the alternative to him coming back. 

 David waits with her for another hour. They’re fairly quiet, hardly any words exchanged between the two of them, but after some time passes, he starts to open up to her in a way she never expected. He tells her how grateful he is that she found them. He tells her how impossible it was for him and Mary Margaret to give her up, and that both of their parents essentially forced their hands due to their young age. He tells her how painful it was, finding out about Mary Margaret’s unplanned pregnancy and being faced with the reality that they could keep this child and they couldn’t keep her. He tells her how badly he wanted to try to find her, considering breaking the terms of the closed adoption that fell through for years. He had no idea that the family who adopted her initially had sent her back because once they agreed to place her for adoption, they gave up their right to know anything about her. 

 Tears spring into his eyes when he talks of wanting to give her her best chance. When he admits to her that giving her away was a mistake-- “the biggest I’ve ever made.” 

 When she was young, this is what she’d hoped for. She dreamt of her tortured parents, broken because of their decision to give her away. She’d hoped that they realized their mistake and regretted it every day. But now, seeing the way that the decision they made 25 years ago hurts her father, she wishes she could take his pain away. They didn’t have much of a choice at 17, what with having no income and no support from their families. They thought they were doing what was best for her; they can’t help that it didn’t work out that way. 

 “It’s alright, dad,” she finally says after some silence passes between them. She notes the way he looks up at her hopefully, his eyes still glassed over, and she realizes why. She’s never called him that before, never thought she ever would. But in this moment, with the support and honesty and love he’s shown her, she can’t think of him as anyone other than her father. Her dad. 

 She sniffles as she steps towards him, her eyes beginning to match his own, and she embraces him. It feels exactly how she’d hoped hugging her father would feel. It feels true, and loving, and she’s at peace here with him. 

 “I love you,” he says into her hair, his hand cupping the back of his head. “I always have, since the moment I found out about you. I’m so sorry I couldn’t give you the life you deserved.” 

 She doesn’t even think before she says, “I love you, too.” 

 A boat comes in and David buys their fish. When asked about the Jolly Roger, the captain shrugs and says he hasn’t heard from Killian since he got a tuna on his line, but that was hours ago. “Sometimes it takes a whole day to get them on the deck,” David tells her after the captain leaves. “With the weather, I'm sure they’re being challenged out there. But we would’ve heard a distress call if anything was wrong.” 

 She tells herself that he’s right, and that he would know, and sits back down at the table. She can’t torture herself standing by the entrance of the warehouse, getting soaked and becoming even more frozen as she stares out at the horizon. She distracts herself with her phone, trying to keep busy as she waits, wishing he would call or text her to let her know that he’s alright. 

 It’s nearly dark when David calls her over, and when she looks up, she sees a small vessel backing up towards the dock, Will and Robin tossing some rope around the post to keep the boat from floating out to sea. She stands with such force and hope that she sends the chair crashing to the ground, but she hardly notices as she starts running towards the stairs. It’s still windy and cold, but the snow and rain has slowed, making it just a bit safer as she sprints down the wooden stairs and across the dock where he’s landed. 

 “Killian!” she calls as she gets closer, and she sees him poking his head out from the small cabin at the sound of her voice, shutting off the engine and hurrying towards the edge of the deck. She doesn’t let him disembark, choosing instead to jump onto the deck and nearly shoving Will to the ground as she fights her way towards him, crashing into his sturdy arms. 

 “Bloody hell,” he whispers into her hair as he holds her close, his arms wrapping tightly around her and warming her in a way that nothing else possibly could. His sweater is damp, and she’s soaked to the bone, but neither of them care. She can finally breathe again with her nose against his neck and her arms around his waist, squeezing him close to her. 

 “Are you okay?” she finally asks against his skin. She pulls away so that she can look at him, holding his head in her hands and bringing his lips to hers in a relieved kiss. “Fuck,” she breathes when she pulls away. “I thought… I was so worried about you.” 

 “I’m sorry--” he says against her mouth when she kisses him again. He chuckles softly and tries again, “I’m sorry, my love. I didn’t mean to worry you.” His hand leaves her hip and brushes her wet hair out of her face, his fingers returning to trace gently over her cheek.

 “We listened to the radio, but we never heard from you. I thought something was wrong, or--” she cuts herself off, biting her bottom lip and staring into his eyes, as deep and blue as the ocean. 

 “The radio went out with some lightning. If I’d known you were listening… bloody hell. I’m so sorry, Emma.” 

 She tries to kiss him again, their lips touching for just a single, unsatisfying second before they're interrupted by Will. “Oi, you’re standing right over the fish, mate. You lot can canoodle after we get the check, aye?”

 They caught three giant fish, the maximum they’re allowed to have on their boat at one time. She supposes he was right about a storm being the best time to go fishing, but she doesn’t think she’d survive if he went out in this weather again. She wonders in the back of her mind if the hefty paycheck David gives them for their catch is influenced by her in any way, but she tries not to dwell on it. Afterall, it could be worse. At least her father somewhat approves of him now, or at the very least, tolerates the fact that they're together. 

 When they're done, he hands the keys to his mates and squeezes her hand. “I promise I’m not going out there in this weather again, love; not if it’s going to worry you. It isn’t worth putting you through that again.” 

 “Good man,” David says softly, nodding to himself as he packs up his supplies. “Ems, I’ll meet you at Granny’s? We should probably dry off.” 

 “Sure,” she responds with a nod and a smile. “Tell-- tell mom I’ll be there soon.” 

 David blushes and nods back at her, giving her a shy smile. “Will do, kiddo.” 

 They walk away hand in hand, both of them damp and freezing and in desperate need of the embrace of the other. 

 “‘Mom’?” he asks her when they're out of earshot, trekking towards the small cottage that’s been in his family for generations. She can hear the smile in his voice over the whipping winds, and can’t help but to smile as well. 

 “I had a very interesting day,” she explains casually, looking up at him and smiling before looking back down, careful as she navigates over the bumpy stone path that leads to his front door. It’s a very short walk; his house beside the lighthouse is prime real estate in the small fishing town. “Little heart to heart with my parents.” 

 “That’s wonderful, love,” he encourages, squeezing her hand as he fiddles with the lock with his other. When they finally get inside, out of the storm and into the warmth of his small living room, he says, “I’m happy for you.” 

 She hums and smiles softly, turning to him and wrapping her fingers around the neck of his rain and ocean soaked sweater. “You should start a fire,” she suggests in a whisper. “And get out of these clothes.” 

 “Aye, same could be said for you, angel. How long were you by the docks waiting?” he asks, running the tip of his finger along her temple and down her cheek. 

 “I don't know, it felt like hours.” 

 “I’m so sorry,” he whispers. “I didn’t realize you were waiting. I would've tried calling, but there was spotty reception.” 

 “It’s alright,” she whispers back, pushing her forehead against his and cupping the back of his head with her hands. “I’m just glad you're alright.” 

 “Aye.” 

 “And there's… there’s something I have to tell you.” 

 “What’s that?” 

 It doesn't matter that they're both nearly dripping on the floor of his entryway, or that her hair resembles a birds nest, or that he smells like fish. None of the imperfections matter because when they're together, they disappear. Everything that could make their moment together feel amiss fades into the background when she smiles and whispers, “I love you.” 

 His heart stops beating. He wonders if he’s old enough to have a heart attack. It doesn't matter, because Emma admitting her love for him will surely keep him alive if he is. He chokes slightly, swallowing and taking a deep breath and then laughing and shaking his head in disbelief. Emma Swan loves him. 

 She giggles, too, her nose brushing against his as she asks, “are you in there?” and taps her fingers on his temple. 

 “Aye, I’m just… bloody hell. I love you.” 

 “You do?” she asks happily, her smile nearly blinding. 

 “Yes,” he responds. “Unequivocally. More than I ever thought it was possible to love a person. My life was so mundane and futile until you came into it, but Emma, you’ve given me so much hope. You’ve made my life… worth it.” 

 She breathes out a laugh and sniffles, scratching her fingers along his scalp and shaking her head. “You old sap,” she chastises playfully, making him laugh too. “I couldn’t agree more.”

 Their kiss is perfect. They don’t need the heat of the fire to warm them up because the energy between them is enough. He doesn’t feel the need to strip off his clothes because of how soaked through they are; moreso because of how badly he needs to touch her. All he can think about is her body on his and the cursed amount of layers he’s adorning. He feels slightly less suffocated when she strips him of his thick sweater, but only slightly. 

 She moans as she pulls at his trousers, popping open the button and sliding the zip as far down as it’ll go. Reaching inside, she palms at the contours of his hardened length over his underwear. She giggles, the sound ringing through his ears joyously, when she tucks her fingers under his long underwear and is met with even more fabric. “You really layered up, huh, Captain?”

 He nearly chokes at her use of his title, never liking it falling from anyone else’s lips as much as he does hers, and nods. “A winter storm requires prep-- preparation,” he stutters. 

 His eyes grow about twice their size and his breathing completely stops as she sinks to her knees before him, making her smirk as she looks up at him through her lashes in a way that she knows drives him mad. She’s practically buzzing as she looks up at his bare chest, the veins in his arms popping out tantalizingly as she runs her nose along the soft fabric of his long underwear.  

 The sounds he makes are unintelligible, and she’s found that that is exactly what she seeks when she gets on her knees before him: to have him in such ecstasy that he can hardly make sense of his words. She bites at the fabric so that she can pull it down, his cock springing free so that she can lightly scratch her fingers through the hair at the base. She loves the way he’s peppered with white all over, and she knows he likes her appreciation for it. The fact is, she can’t get enough of his perfectly sculpted body, the spatterings of silver and black making her heart skip a beat each time she thinks about him. 

 She can tell when she’s about to take it too far based on the way he struggles to keep his hips still, so she slows her movements and releases him with a pop, licking her lips as she looks up at him seductively. 

 “Do you want me?” she asks in a low, growling whisper that’s only just audible over the sounds of the wind picking up just outside the door. 

 “If I ever don't immediately say yes to that question, please smother me with a pillow. It means my age has caught  up to me.” 

 “Impossible,” she chastises, standing slowly and removing her own sweater. “You may be old, but I know you’re young at heart.” 

 He shakes his head at her, moving quickly to scoop her into his arms until her ankles are locked around his waist. “What did we say about respecting your elders?” he growls into her ear, biting at the lobe as he walks them towards the bed. 

 With a hum, she asks, “are you going to punish me, Captain?” and he tosses her gracefully onto the mattress in response. 

 “Perhaps I'll simply make you beg.” 

 “Oh, I'm not above begging. I happen to know you’re quite the catch, so it'll be worth it.” 

 “Are you making fishing jokes while I’m trying to seduce you?” 

 The smirk she gives him is telling as he pulls her leggings over her hips and bites into her flesh, making her jump slightly. “Oh! I thought I was supposed to nibble on your rod?” 

 “Emma,” he laughs breathlessly. 

 She breathes out a laugh as well as he drags his tongue along her folds, not quite touching her where she needs him. “You really know how to lure me in, what can I say.” He bites the inside of her thigh silently, making her laugh aloud and then stutter as his tongue finds her clit. He keeps it there only momentarily, moving away in favor of peppering soft kisses around her thighs and over her hips. “Stop teasing,” she whines with her eyes squeezed shut, and he can see her smile growing before she says, “or should I say… baiting.”

 He growls playfully as he hurries up the length of her body, decidedly punishing her by refusing to put his mouth on her center, although he doesn't think she minds as his lips collide with hers and his fingers plunge into her entrance. “You’re quite funny,” he says against her mouth as he expertly curls his fingers up against the sensitive spot inside her.

 “Tha-- thank you,” she says, struggling to get the words out around her gasps and moans. “W-will you-- mmm, Killian.”

 “Yes, my love?” he whispers as he sucks a bruise into her neck. 

 “Fuck me.”

 He hums thoughtfully, slowing his fingers and pulling away from her so that he can purse his lips in pensivity. “No, I don’t think I will,” he tells her, his tone serious but the sparkle in his eyes anything but. 

 “Killian,” she whines, giving him a pout and gasping as he flicks his fingers over her clit. 

 She’s about to go mad, both with need and with absolute irritation at him, before he places his lips at the shell of her ear, lining his hardened cock up to her entrance, and whispers, “I’d much rather make love to you,” as he thrusts inside. 

 Emma doesn’t even have time, never mind the wherewithal, to berate him for his jest. She clings her fingertips into the backs of his strong shoulders, weathered by the sun and battered with the exhaustion of his livelihood. Their mouths fuse together tightly, neither of them willing to be any further from the other than they absolutely have to. 

 She whimpers against his lips as he strokes his fingers against her expertly, touching her exactly as she needs him to. He pulls slightly from her kiss, his mouth hovering over hers, and she knows he’s going to ask if she’s alright without him needing to. 

 Rather than wait for the question, she says, “I love you,” into the barely open space between them. 

 Killian doubles down on his efforts, driving into her with passion and love, the likes of which she’s never felt before. He breathes his love for her into every inch of her skin, his movements echoing his words until she gives him one last warning whimper and they fall apart in each other’s arms. 

 “I love you,” he whispers against her skin. “You mean everything to me.”

 She gives him a soft smile, running her fingers soothingly into his hair as he collapses against her chest, his own heaving with each breath. “I certainly got more than I bargained for when I came here.”

 “Aye.”

 “Before I came,” she whispers, pausing to collect her thoughts. “Before I met you, it was like I was sinking. Like I could barely stay above water and I was one big wave away from capsizing.”

 He smirks against her skin, chuffed at her nautical references despite his teasing earlier, and says, “I believe I know what you mean, angel.”

 “And then I met you, and it was like I jumped overboard.” Turning his head so that he can look up at her, he raises a brow. “I was clinging to this dinky little boat that was sinking, you know? I was clinging to this idea of how my life couldn’t have gone. But I met you and you showed me that it’s okay when things don’t go the way we hope they will. You helped me see that it’s okay to let go, because…” she shrugs, busying her fingers in his hair. “Well, I guess because there was a life raft waiting for me. You.”

 With a deep blush, he shakes his head in disbelief of the woman before him, pressing a kiss to her chest before pressing up onto his elbows and finding her lips with his. “I love you,” he whispers. “You’ve changed my life for the better, you know. I was quite the half-drunken recluse before you came to town.” 

 “I know,” she whispers with a satisfied smile. “We make quite the pair.” 

 “That we do.”

 They lie in comfortable silence for a few more moments, Killian’s arms wrapped around Emma and his head on her chest as her fingers continue their ministrations through his hair. Eventually and reluctantly, they remember that they’re meant to meet her parents at Granny’s for dinner, and peel themselves off of one another just long enough to make it to the shower. They clean each other, after dirtying themselves once more under the water, and resign themselves to the difficulty they have keeping their hands off of one another. 

 Once at dinner, they tame themselves as much as they can, but neither of them miss the narrow-eyed looks being shot their way by David and Mary Margaret. Killian can’t help himself, though. She makes him feel alive; like a teenager in love for the first time. At the end of the night, after his confession that he plans to never sail through a storm again if it will ease his love’s worries, David shakes his hand and claps his shoulder wordlessly. 

 Three months later, after they’ve moved the rest of Emma’s things into his small cottage, she walks into the kitchen and catches him laughing elatedly with her mother before being pulled in for a tight hug. She wants to ask what they’re so excited about, but stops herself to take in the sight of the two of them finally getting along. It means so much more than her mom liking her boyfriend. 

 Their life together is perfection-- everything they could have hoped for and more-- and he can’t wait to ask her to spend the rest of it by his side. 

~~~~

~~~~

Tagging: @courtorderedcake​ @kmomof4​ @stahlop​ @klynn-stormz​ @laschatzi @emelizabeth88​ @lfh1226-linda​ @kday426​ @elisethewritingbeast @timeless-love-story​ @captain-emmajones​ @gingerpolyglot​ @ebcaver​ @ilovemesomekillianjones​ @teamhook @superchocovian​ @itsfabianadocarmo​ @tiganasummertree​ @gingerchangeling​ @jrob64​ @onceratheart18​ @xhookswenchx @winterbaby89​ @swampmedusa​ @ultraluckycatnd​ @dancingnancyy​ @love-with-you-i-have-everything​ @shireness-says​ @snowbellewells​​ @hollyethecurious @ouatpost​ @daxx04​ @the-darkdragonfly​ @donteattheappleshook​​ @therooksshiningknight @eeteeaytay​​ @xsajx @itsfridaysomewhere​​ @alexa-fangirl-forever​​ @jonesfandomfanatic​​ @wefoundloveunderthelight @qualitycoffeethings @rapunzelsghosts​​ @spaceconveyor

#cs au #captain swan au #captain swan modern au #Overboard #Cs smut #cs angst #mildly I guess #silver fox Killian #older Killian #cs ff #overboard ff

[norcumii]

...oh thanks, Tumblr, it wasn’t like I was trying to answer that ask or anything. -_-

OHKAY. Take two! For this trope mashup meme, @dogmatix asked:

Rex/Obi or pairing/characters of choice - Apocalyse AU / Mermaid/Siren AU / Aroused by their voice

This modern!AU got a liiiiiittle bit more absurdist than planned, but NO REGRETS. Assistance was provided by @dharmaavocado and @deadcatwithaflamethrower -- THANK YOU BOTH!

*****

There was a lovely breeze coming in across the ocean, the sky had just enough puffy white clouds to keep things interesting, and Rex was taking a maintenance day. The last family group of tourists to charter a day trip had included several children that were at least two parts sticky and three parts grime. His poor Vigilance needed a serious scrub down, and Rex was not looking forward to restocking. Small Grubby Fiend 1 had stumbled – supposedly due to a sudden swell, but more likely because Small Grubby Fiends 2 and 3 hadn’t stopped ‘not kicking’ each other for way too long. Not being an entire idiot, Rex has gone right for the band-aids with cartoon characters, but since it wasn’t a cartoon Small Grubby Fiend 1 liked, that meant another – until all three Small Grubby Fiends had been plastered with far more of his first aid kit than was good for anyone.

It had been a long day.

So there he was, untangling life-vests that hadn’t even been used, while singing along with whatever music was playing from the boat’s speakers. Rex wasn’t sure if the music was pop, rock, or some other unholy category he’d never heard of, but thankfully it didn’t matter. He liked it, and could figure out which of Tup’s mix tapes it was on, which was the important thing.

Tup always made hilarious offended noises when Rex called them mix tapes, which was a significant reason why he did so. They were music folders, sensibly labeled by mood, because his little brother had realized at some point that was the only way to keep Rex up to date on anything past the 90’s grunge music.

Tup’s accusation, not his. Rex damn well knew how to use a radio – several kinds of radio, thank you very much.

He was several songs into mind-numbing chores when he spotted a flash of red streaking under the dock, and Rex ducked his head to hide a grin. He’d started spotting movement like that a couple of weeks ago, around the time the neighbors descended on their beach house. There were several ginger teenagers, so he figured one of them was a hell of a water rat who had damn odd taste in music.

To be fair, so did he.

It’d been weird at first, realizing he had an audience that disappeared the moment he acknowledged their existence. But the most he heard or saw out of them beyond the momentary glimpse was a bit of percussion, someone drumming in time against the water – and once, the dock itself – so Rex had shrugged and accepted their presence. It was kinda nice, actually, just to have someone around. He lived a ways off the end of a long, sparsely populated road, and while he didn’t mind the solitude, sometimes you just wanted another–

Rex’s train of thought went off the rails with a loud yelp as he discovered something slimy stuck to the back of a life-vest. It might have been edible once – it was a shade of radioactive green he didn’t associate with anything other than candy or video games, at least, so that was his best guess. Much as he wanted to blame the Small Grubby Fiends, he hadn’t done more than a spot check of these vests for awhile – could’ve been anyone.

Ugh. At least unlike some clients he could name, Rex’s eavesdropper wasn’t vandalizing anything. Wasn’t about to begrudge that.

Rex had managed to get most of the neon green grossness cleared when the rumble of an approaching car caught his attention. He wasn’t expecting visitors, not that that had ever stopped any of his brothers. Lost delivery drivers usually turned around before hitting up the driveway, which was long enough and had enough private property signs to keep out idiots looking for easy water access.

“Who the hell is this?” he muttered, setting the vest aside. He didn’t recognize the little black car, or the burly guy stepping out of the passenger’s side, but the guy waved and casually started towards Rex as if he knew who the hell he was.

Not reassuring, especially since the stranger rapped the car’s roof, and it headed back up the driveway.

“You seem lost,” Rex said, standing up and trying to look just the right level of intimidating.

“Nope,” the guy said back, still heading towards him. “Need your boat.”

“That’s work related – you need to wait till I’m back at the marina tomorrow. I’m at home, it’s my day off.”

Burly guy finally stopped, planting his hands on his hips – a move which just happened to part the jacket of his cheap suit enough that Rex could see the gun he carried. “I don’t think you understand, Mr. Fett. I don't want any trouble – I just want you to head inside, and take that day off while I borrow your boat.”

Oh, FUCK. Nobody really talked about how the mob owned most of the marinas in Tatooine Bay, but you didn’t need to declare water was wet to get drenched in the rain. It just wasn’t something that ever happened to someone you knew, just friends of friends or something.

“And if I don’t agree?” he couldn’t keep from asking.

Burly Guy had a surprisingly expressive shrug. “Most people don’t enjoy pushing their luck that far.”

To his credit, it was a remarkably polite threat. “I’m surprised anyone ever does.”

“Eh, every now and then there’s some freaky masochist looking for cheap thrills, but it ain’t my kink. Don’t think it’s yours, either, so if you’d just head inside, that’d be appreciated.”

The smart move was probably to comply. Rex wasn’t inclined to cooperate anyways. He was saved from making either bad decision by...sound.

It didn’t register as singing – there was something too off about it, a combination that wasn’t quite autotune, or that polyphonic singing Echo had gotten into when Fives got obsessed with the guitar. It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t right in a way that was madly distracting.

The...singing? – pulled both Rex and the goon around towards the end of the dock, and if Rex hadn’t been so muzzy-headed from that sound he would have been gaping much more blatantly.

There was someone slipping out from under the dock, and it was most definitely not one of the neighbors.

It was a trim, shirtless figure in the water – ginger indeed, short red hair just dry enough to be messy spikes. Pale skin was freckled in scales of shimmering reds, protective lines over what would be vulnerable areas on a human. It swam close enough to the surface that Rex could see the sleek fins and tail, and part of his brain kept screaming ‘mermaid!’ while the rest took in the long, sharp claws on webbed hands and whispered ‘predator.’ Its singing showed sharply pointed teeth, and it should not have been nearly that gorgeous.

The mermaid glanced over at him, eyes a deep blue-on-blue that could never masquerade as human, flicking a look up and down him that could have been flattering or terrifying – it all depended on if that was measuring him for a meal euphemistically or not.

The singing changed as the creature turned its attention back to the goon, and the magnetic pull on Rex lessened. He staggered back a step, not too surprised to find he was halfway down the dock without noticing. The hazy feeling in his brain stopped, or at least dropped down to levels that were close enough to normal, so he got a clear view as the goon started walking into the water, oblivious to everything except the mer-siren-thing he was shambling towards.

The siren moved when the goon was almost waist deep in the water, flowing forward to delicately place a hand at the goon’s throat. The singing continued, but now there was a new undertone, soft and somehow questioning. Rex couldn’t tell if there were words to it or not – maybe a whole other language for all he knew – but the goon responded, voice soft enough that he couldn’t make out what was said.

Whatever he said, it didn’t please the siren. It kept singing, but it snarled, showing more of those pointed teeth, then it twisted and dove, hauling the unresisting goon under the water.

A terrifying few moments more, and the last hums of the song seemed to stop vibrating through the water.

“What the absolute fuck?” Rex said numbly. Thank everything, no one answered.

A smart man would’ve hidden inside, or driven off to a movie theater or something – inland and away. Rex wasn’t sure why he stayed: curiosity – morbid or otherwise – shock, or a healthy disbelief in the whole debacle. He was maybe a bit too numb to not have some kind of shock, but –

He felt like he maybe deserved it. “Yeah, I can have a bit of shock,” Rex muttered to himself. “As a treat.”

Okay, he might have more than a bit. But by the time the siren poked his head out of the water again – politely out of arms’ reach – Rex had calmed down a decent degree. They just looked at each other for a bit, then the siren gave him a polite nod.

“Hello there,” he said in a pleasant, deep voice with a hell of an accent.

Rex held up a hand, needing a moment. Of fucking course the British even colonized under the goddamned sea. “Hi. You speak English.” It wasn’t quite the most inane thing he could’ve said, but his brain hadn’t managed to catch up yet.

He was talking to a goddamned mermaid who had just kidnapped and possibly eaten some mob thug who’d been trying to take Rex’s boat. It had been a day.

“You’re not the first land-dweller I’ve made the acquaintance of.”

Rex absolutely refused to make any kind of a crack about being charmed. There was too much hysteria lurking in there. “Speaking of acquaintances, you didn’t, ah, kill that guy, did you?”

The siren’s lips pulled back from his teeth a little. “I still haven’t decided what to do with him, so right now he’s out of the way.” He must’ve seen something impressive in Rex’s expression, because the angry disdain smoothed over to something more neutral. “He’s stashed in a cave I know. Enough air to breathe, but the only entrance is underwater and too far for most humans to swim without assistance.”

That was...a lot. “Thanks for the help.”

The siren smiled, an oddly sweet, bashful expression. “I’d be a very poor guest if I didn’t assist.” He cleared his throat, his expression going awkward. “Though I...suppose ‘guest’ is a bit presumptive.”

Rex grinned. “No, I spotted you a couple weeks ago – ah, I mean, sort of.” Before he could make more a hash of that, he cleared his throat. “The name’s Rex.”

The siren folded his hands together and did a little bow thing. “Obi-Wan. Pleasure to meet you.”

He wasn’t blushing. He absolutely was not blushing. “So...you in town for long?” Ok, now he was blushing, that was worst subject change ever meeting worst fishing attempt – meeting worst and wildly inappropriate pun.

Obi-Wan’s expression fell, sorrow way too visible in those non-human eyes. “I suppose you could say that. I...no longer have a home to return to.”

Definitely not a topic to change to. Right. Rex cleared his throat and shifted. “Well. You’re welcome anytime, for what that’s worth.”

The slow-growing smile didn’t remove that sorrow, but it did kindle something warm inside. This was at least three different kinds of trouble, but Rex didn’t think he’d regret any of it.

~end

#star wars #My writing #meme #trope mashup #Rex/Obi #mermaid #dogmatix #still not thrilled with how it wraps but it's certainly not the worst fic ending I've read recently #oh I'm still salty #whoops? #meanwhile there's several lines in here i adore more than is reasonable #AND I DON'T CARE

[byrachel]

oh to be seths imprint and attend a wedding and realize how in love we are and dance and have fun and fall in love with life and with each other and sneak away from the wedding and drink champagne and slow dance under the moon at night and look at the sky. I would literally die a happy woman :,(

SETH CLEARWATER THE REST OF OUR LIVES

word count: 1767

summary: when her duties as maid of honor become a little overwhelming, seth takes his girlfriend to a special place to take a break away from her family

warnings: you might experience extreme loneliness because I sure am

note: i already posted about it, but this is such a cute request. this is probably one of the cutest requests i’ve ever gotten. i still want to apologize for taking so long to finish this, because I just wasn’t sure how to approach this. i hope you still enjoy this, anon!

(Y/N) sighed softly, a pained expression replacing the fake smile which had occupied her face the whole day as she finally sat down at her assigned table. She put her hands against her back, softly straightening it to relieve herself from the twisting pain she had from walking around on heels the last few hours. “Should’ve worn flats.” She murmured to herself.

The family members and friends of the bride and groom were surrounding the dance floor of the wedding venue, where they were having their first dance of the night. It was the perfect moment to sneak away, because it was the first moment since the beginning of that stressful wedding day she didn’t have to do anything, but watch her sister and her now husband be happy. 

Even with hurting feet, (Y/N) smiled satisfied as she caught a glimpse of the dancing pair between the figures surrounding them. The soft creme glow of the low hanging lights was reflecting beautifully on her sister’s diamond encrusted dress, just like she had dreamed of. As the maid of honor, (Y/N) made sure she could bring heaven on earth for her sister so she could have her perfect day and seeing her smile, which even gave her butterflies in her stomach, she knew she succeeded. Nothing could ruin her sister’s day.

(Y/N) noticed her almost empty glass of champagne she had left at the edge of the table over three hours ago, showing her how long it had exactly been since she gave her body a rest. It didn’t even look like it had bubbles anymore. She almost wanted to chug the last bit down her throat, too lazy to get herself a new drink. She also wasn’t in the mood to talk to the flirting bartender either. She was slowly going to let her tongue dry out if she had to.

As she finally found a comfortable position to sit in, a pair of familiar hands suddenly found their way to her shoulders, rubbing their thumbs between her shoulder blades. “Hey, pretty lady.” Her boyfriend whispered into her ear, shivers going down her spine as his warm breath gently brushed along her neck. 

“Hey, baby.” Her lips curled up into a soft, relieved smile when she finally felt the one person she was waiting to spend her time with all day. Just like her, he was helping to make sure everything was perfect by being dragged along by her mother. Here and there, she would see him carry things behind the bar or make sure all the equipment was in the right place, secretly craving to be by his side and enjoy this beautiful moment with him. “I missed you today.” 

Although he probably saw her sit down, she felt like Seth didn’t only know when, but also how she needed him. On days she was emotionally drained and just avoided social interaction, he was the only person she could stand being around. He didn’t expect anything from her and just lied silently next to her, rubbing figures into her belly while they cuddled. 

“I would’ve loved to stay with you, but your mom wasn’t letting me out of her sight.” Seth chuckled, letting go of his girlfriend and sitting down on the chair next to her. “She even asked me to dance with her later.” 

(Y/N) cringed, aware of how overbearing her mom could be at times. “I told her to tone it down. I’ll talk--” 

“No, don’t. It’s fine.” Seth laughed, shaking his head. “Let’s just be civil for today, your sister deserves one day without an outburst from her. And it means she likes me, which is a good thing.”

Rolling her eyes at his statement knowing he was right, she quickly nodded in agreement. The last thing they needed was her mom to ruin the last few hours when everything went great so far. 

“But now we’ve both got a few minutes to spare, can I show you something?” Seth held his hand out to his girlfriend which she hesitantly accepted.

With a raised eyebrow, she tilted her head. “Where are you taking me?” 

Instead of telling her, he smiled from ear to ear as he promised her they would be back in time before anyone needed either of them again. Without trying to draw any attention by leaving through a random side door of the venue, (Y/N) looked over her shoulder one last time before they managed to slip away unnoticed. Holding onto her boyfriend’s arm she was able to ignore the pain in the heels of her feet, feeling a slight rush of adrenaline flow through her veins. 

It suddenly felt like they were teenagers again. It brought back a memory of when Seth convinced her to jump out of her window, promising her he would get her back into bed before anyone noticed. Thinking back she asked herself why that was her biggest concern when she was going to risk her limbs by trusting a guy to catch her as she jumped from the second floor. But she did it without a second thought and before she knew two strong arms stopped her from, what could’ve been, a nasty fall and she never doubted him again. 

“Wow.” Was the first thing escaping (Y/N)’s mouth when they ended up at a dock stretched out over a body of water. The full moon shone brightly, hitting the silent streams just right. It looked like tiny diamonds were appearing and disappearing at a rapid pace. She had seen a lot in her years, but she couldn’t have imagined something so simple would take her breath away. 

“I know, right?” Seth agreed calmly, having seen it before as he observed his girlfriend walk to the edge of the dock to get closer to take in the magnificent view. “I found it when I was helping out outside earlier.” 

“It’s beautiful.” She whispered, briefly looking back at him as his arms wrapped around her waist. He rested his chin on top of her shoulder, taking the view in with her as she intertwined her fingers with his on her belly.

Even before they started the day he knew there would be a point her family would start to drive her insane, her mom’s complaining, her sister’s requests, her aunts’ bickering about things not being to their liking. He didn’t know how she kept it together so well, but he could see it was tiring her out. She needed a break and that was exactly what he was trying to give her. He was convinced her family could survive five minutes without her.

But even with that short lived break, he already could tell she wasn’t going to pick up her phone for at least a week once they got home. He already heard himself ask her ‘what’s the excuse this time’ as they came up with something on the spot for when he picked up the phone for her. He didn’t mind though, he would do anything for her. And she knew that. 

As far away as they were, the faded music of her sister’s wedding could be heard. The new melody of the upcoming song caught Seth’s attention and made him pull away from his girlfriend. Left unprepared for the cool summer breeze brushing along her exposed skin, (Y/N) looked back at him to see what he was doing. 

Once again he held his hand out towards her, a soft smile plastered across his face. “Dance with me?” 

Her gaze softened as that same pained smile from before appeared on her face. “I would love to, but my feet feel like they’re going to fall off.” 

Seth rolled his eyes playfully and tilted his head, signaling her to come to him. “C’mere.” 

As much as (Y/N) wanted to reject his offer, she couldn’t say no to those eyes. She did as she was told, approaching her boyfriend who grabbed her hands and gently pressed his smiling lips against her knuckles - earning a giggle from her - before he placed her cold hands around his neck. He pulled her closer to him, their chests touching as he did. 

“Stand on my shoes.” He grinned.

“Okay.” She breathed, finally understanding his plan as she used the balls of your feet to stand on top of his feet. They laughed in unison when it appeared she was even taller than on her heels alone, bringing her face closer to his. 

“Hi.” 

“Hey.” Seth smiled back, lowering his hands down to her lower back. 

Even with his girlfriend standing on top of him he managed to gently sway them to the melody of the music playing in the distance. (Y/N) leaned into his touch, placing her head against his shoulder while she felt Seth’s head resting against hers. Her eyes fluttered closed to take in his warmth and scent of his cologne. She would truly stay in his arms forever if she could. 

“Did I already tell you how beautiful you look today?” Seth broke the comfortable silence between them, his voice much lower than before.

Blood rushed to (Y/N)’s cheeks, the butterflies in her stomach reminding her of their first date. How he managed to make her feel like that every time he was a little too close was still a mystery, but she would never get enough of the feeling. 

“You haven’t actually.” She answered, grinning as her head still rested against his shoulder.

“You, (Y/N) (Y/L/N). . .” His movements were starting to slow down, one of his hands pulling away from her lower back to grab her by the chin. He pushed her face up to meet his gaze and he leaned in slightly leaving a slim space between them. A shaky breath hit his face as he left his girlfriend completely flustered by his actions. “are absolutely gorgeous.” 

Closing the gap between them, Seth gently pressed his lips against hers as both of their eyes closed shut. He did not care about her lipstick rubbing off on him. He was hers after all and he wasn’t afraid to show others that. (Y/N) moved her hand up the back of his head, intertwining her fingers with his long dark locks and pushed him closer to deepen their kiss. 

This wasn’t that kind of love you would have to lose before you realized you had it, it was the kind you felt and realized in the moment. And standing there on that dock with the moon shining down at them, was the moment they realized they would have this love the rest of their lives.

masterlist | not edited

#thaliawritesx #thaliawritesasks #the twilight saga #twilight #twilight imagines #seth clearwater #seth clearwater imagine #seth clearwater fluff #seth clearwater x reader #twilight wolf pack #wolf pack imagine #twilight wolves

[theoppositequeens]

they say home is where your heart is set in stone

For @kanejweek Day 5: Love (atypical affection & domesticity).

Pairing: Kaz/Inej

Rating: T

Title from Gabrielle Aplin’s “Home”.

Summary: Three of the Dregs witness unexpected moments of love and domesticity.

THEY SAY HOME IS WHERE YOUR HEART IS SET IN STONE

sleeping

Anika is about to knock on the doorframe of Kaz's office.

His light is still on, and the door is ajar, so she thinks he might be up. It is rarer, these days, that Kaz is actually awake when she comes home from the Crow Club with that evening's numbers. On his few days off, when he entrusts the club to her, he is usually asleep or gone, and she reports to him in the morning. Most often, his days off coincide with a ship pulling into berth twenty-two, and Anika imagines that he and Inej are usually off on a rooftop somewhere, making moony eyes at each other. Those two are so disgustingly in love with each other, even if they aren't the couple for public displays of affection. Anika doesn't even think she's seen them touch more than ten times.

Now, they are touching.

Through the slim gap between the door and the doorframe, Anika has a good view of Kaz's sofa. It is an ugly brown plush thing he installed after too many late nights when he couldn't be bothered to climb the stairs and slept in his chair instead. Those work nights do not coincide with a ship being in the harbor. More like it being absent.

Either way, Kaz and Inej are curled up on the plush monstrosity, still in full dress, Kaz's arms wrapped carefully around the Wraith to keep her on the sofa. They look calm and peaceful together, like they belong. A lock and a key. Balance.

Inej is the key, Anika decides, and moves her fingers from the wood where they stopped millimeters from the frame. Her boss must be truly tired to have forgotten to lock or even close the door, and he deserves his rest. Anika does not want to take over the Dregs in the case he perishes of sleep-deprivation, after all.

And they look so disgustingly cute together, so she retreats silently.

cooking

Rotty is nursing the worst hangover in his life – funny, how he thinks that anew every morning after he's gone out drinking for a night – and he stumbles into the Slat's kitchen around midday, blinking blearily at the bright sunshine streaming in through a narrow window. He is led here by the smell of food, fried and good and hopefully enough for him too. Their cook usually takes pity on him, because he brings her fresh vegetables from the markets – stolen of course – when he is having a slow day and there are no fat pigeons around to be targeted.

"Any for me?" He asks hopefully as he turns the corner and spies the pan full of eggs and fried potatoes on the stove.

"Sure," someone answers, but he is too busy cringing at the sound of his raspy and hoarse voice to notice. As he sinks into a chair, a plate of food is set down by him, and he mutters a distracted thanks before he digs in. The meal is heavenly. Cook must have done something new with the spices. They remind him of Suli food that he once ate with Inej at a small market wagon, and he reminds himself to praise her after he has finished inhaling his food.

He largely ignores the normal noise of the kitchen, and when he looks up to thank Cook, he sputters. The fried potatoes don't feel quite as nice in his windpipe, so he coughs them out discreetly, trying not to be too loud. He doesn't want to spook his boss, who is drying dishes right in front of him.

He rubs his eyes once.

Kaz Brekker, Bastard of the Barrel, is still drying dishes in the Slat's kitchen, dressed in an impeccable suit.

Inej passes Kaz another plate from the bucket of clean water that they dip the dishes in to wash off the suds, and Kaz dries it with one of the blue-checkered towels.

"– so then I told him that my ship, my rules, and he straight up ignored me. Until Sara kicked him where the sun doesn't shine, of course. Why am I hiring boys as deckhands again? Men are nothing but trouble."

The Wraith is rambling in a way Rotty rarely sees her do: Inej Ghafa is a private creature, not as much as Kaz, but enough to be reserved. Kaz nods seriously when Inej continues to tell him that men are trash and how this is the third male hire that has caused her issues and how it is going to be an all-woman ship from now on. Plus Specht. Because apparently, Specht doesn't count. Rotty will have to mention that to his old-time friend when he next sees him.

"And you don't count, of course," Inej says, as an afterthought. "You aren't like them."

Them seems to resonate deeply, and Rotty immediately thinks of the scumbags who frequent houses like the one Inej came from. He, himself, has never felt the need to pay for attention or a body. He likes his partners interested, thank you very much.

Clearly, Kaz is some type of safe haven for Inej. Rotty has watched the two of them circle each other like sharks, never sure if they will draw first blood or jump each other. Suddenly, their tension dissipated, and now he rarely focuses on them, since they have clearly sorted themselves out. Either way, it no longer interferes with his work.

Standing here, now, Rotty feels happy. Surprisingly happy. Somewhere deep in his crooked heart, he has always felt loyal to and protective of his boss, but he didn't realize he could be this proud. Proud to serve under this Barrel boss who is ruthless but cares for the Dregs, sometimes making reparations to the Slat out of his own pocket. This man who can make a woman who has been abused in the worst way feel safe, who agrees with her opinion that many men are trash but he is not one of them. Rotty likes knowing the Dregs are a good sort of gang when it comes to the Barrel with Kaz in the lead.

Inej has made Kaz more human, and he laughs when she hits him playfully with a splash of water a minute later.

At this point, Rotty realizes he has been sitting here and gaping at them for several minutes, and as Inej packs up her spices he remembers to praise her for them food and then slip out quickly before Kaz has time to think about the fact that Rotty has been there for quite a while.

Kaz may be in love with Inej, but he still dislikes being seen acting like a normal human being.

Inej's food is a magic hangover cure, and Rotty will beg her for the recipe later.

homecoming

Docking at berth twenty-two when dusk gathers is always a messy affair. First of all, pulling into the harbor that late, when the Council of Tides has almost stopped letting ships in for the night, is nerve-wracking. Then, they have to complete all the normal unloading before darkness falls.

Specht watches as the ship is secured, and directs the others on autopilot as they scurry to collect the waste that has been stored onboard to take it to the appropriate containers in the harbor and unload the legitimate cargo they have on board from Ravka, to conceal the fact that this ship hunts slavers. He sends one of the lousier girls a sharp glare when she seems ready to skulk off and watch the others work, and then eyes the docks carefully until he finds his captain.

Inej always has a private moment when they first dock, and usually she spends it on a dark corner of the dock, greeting Kaz Brekker.

There are two shapes almost intwined in the darkness, sharing an embrace.

Specht has watched them move from awkward hellos and goodbyes, to hand-holding, to soft touches on a cheek, to half-hugs, to hugs, to kisses. Their progress has been gradual, and now he can no longer anticipate what kind of greeting or goodbye he will witness. Tonight is a hug night, and when Inej bounces onto their ship a few minutes later, cheeks red and a smile on her face, Kaz follows.

It is a bit confounding still to see Kaz help Inej unload a shipment, like they are a completely normal couple who help each other with their work. Specht knows they collaborate on many schemes as Dirtyhands and the Wraith, that they are a force to be reckoned with, but they are so incredibly domestic sometimes. He thinks he sees a lot more than others do – Inej trusts him, and Kaz seems to grudgingly accept that. Therefore, they do not guard their actions carefully around him, and he has also heard his fair share from Inej about how she misses him and loves him when they are out at sea, months from making port in Ketterdam. She once asked him how she is supposed to stand this, being away from Kaz, and he answered,

"Make the moments on land count."

Inej had smiled like he'd solved a riddle, he'd ruffled her hair and she'd bounded off to sleep. He thinks that moment is the closest he'll ever come to having a kid.

Now he watches as Dirtyhands limps down a gangplank, placing a box in a waiting wagon, and Inej presses a careful kiss to his cheek later as thanks, and in that moment, Specht believes in love.

#kanej week 2021 #kanejweek2021 #kanej week #kanej #Kaz Brekker #inej ghafa #anika #rotty #specht

[shreddedparchment]

A World of Our Own Pt.10

Epilogue

10/11/2020

Pairing: Bucky x Reader          Word Count: 1,615

Warnings: allusions to miscarriage, LOTS of fluff, past death

A/N: I know I haven’t replied to many comments or asks from the previous chapter but I wanted to get this out as quickly as possible so that the story would be truly closed. The ending was incomplete and now it is done and I hope you enjoy this ending as much as I do. It really made me so happy to write and this is the ending these babies deserve after being blown up and deserted on an island. If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work! xoxo

Life doesn’t happen like we think it will.

We can plan and schedule and arrange as much as you’d like, but things will just not go your way.

As the ship docks, you sigh with frustration, rising to your feet to look through the porthole.

“We’re late.” You grumble, glaring at the darkening sky. “We were supposed to be here by noon. That way we had plenty of time to look around and make sure it’s safe.”

“Kitten, come here.” Bucky holds his arm out towards you without looking up from the small tablet in his hands.

There’s a weather radar on one half of the screen and on the bottom, an email. Probably from Fury.

You make a reluctant beeline for him, sitting on his lap when he urges you to, wrapping his arm around your waist.

With a lick to his lips, he puts the tablet down on the small bedside table—bolted down to keep from moving in rough seas—and brings his other arm around you.

“What did you just tell me last week?”

“I don’t know.” You shrug, pretending you can’t remember.

“Yes, you do, Y/N. What did you so passionately talk my ear off and insist that I remind you, especially on this very trip, if you begin to slide back on your newest and most important—your words by the way—resolution in life? What was it?” Bucky pokes your leg as he speaks, then wraps his arm back around your waist and gives you a squeeze.

“Not to stress about the things in life that I cannot control.” You sigh. “Out of all the damn things I’ve told you, why is this one the one you remember?”

“Because you wouldn’t stop talking about it for an entire day!” Bucky chuckles. “We’re a little late? So what? We have plenty of time. This is supposed to be our honeymoon. Let’s just let go of everything and enjoy our time here.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I just…I wanted everything to be right.” You nod.

“It will be. We bought the island. They’ve been working on it for a year. I’m sure everything will be perfect.” Bucky soothes you, reaching up to rub between your shoulders. “You approved all the changes. They said it was done. What are you worried about? Specifically. Help me to understand this anxiety you’re feeling.”

You grab Bucky’s face and pull his lips to yours roughly. He mumbles against your lips, a small huff of a laugh seeping through.

When you pull away, he laughs. “Ow.”

“I just…we haven’t been back here in years, Bucky. And I want it to be safer than when we left it.”

Bucky’s eyes are full of sudden understanding.

“I see.” He gets to his feet as the large yacht finally stops, helping you stand too before taking your hand in his own. “Come on. Let’s go see it. You kept the hut, right?”

“I kept everything.” You tell him, following him along the narrow white hallway, pristine wooden floors varnished and gleaming. “I just had them upgrade most of it.”

“I like your dress.” Bucky states, giving your outfit a quick once over even though you’d been wearing it for the better part of the day.

You smile bright however, pleased by the compliment before you stop, grab hold of the intentionally designed a-symmetrical dress and swing it back and forth. It’s navy with pink pansy florals and light green leaves, the top more modest than the one you owned before. Capped sleeves and a lovely heart neckline, a very thin strip of pink lace along the hem.

Bucky stops with you, smiling at the shift in your attitude with one simple acknowledgment of your reference to your first time on the island.

“How many times did we end up cutting off pieces of that first dress?” Bucky wonders, letting you think.

“Too many.” You acknowledge. “It was more of a shirt by the time we left.”

Bucky lifts your left hand up to his lips, kissing your simple solitaire engagement ring, your matching wedding band also on your finger.

“Well, we won’t have to cut any of this one off. I promise.” He assures you then pulls you along once again.

Bucky makes you wait. He makes you stay behind as the two of you reach the deck of the yacht—the Paradise Lost as you’d named it—while he steps onto the long and reinforced pier.

It stretches out on the same beach where the cabin of the plane had once stood, now relocated, and honored on another part of the island for the lives that had been lost.

The graves Bucky had dug had been remade, a small graveyard built to give the pilot and stewardess a proper resting place.

You can see it from the deck, a little farther inland where you’d had a cobbled path built to lead to it from the pier.

Making a mental note to tell Bucky you want the Stewardess’s family invited to give them a chance to say goodbye. You’re not sure if you’ll be able to get them here with the secrets surrounding the plane, but you can try.

Bucky comes back fairly quickly and waves you over. Eagerly you make your way to him.

“What happened?” You ask him but he gestures towards an older gentleman on the beach.

“Mr. Lara wants to talk to you about the chef’s supplies. Looks like there was a delay in the shipment.” Bucky tells you, then hurries past you. “Don’t worry, I’ll get our bags.”

“Bucky, we’re paying people to do that!” You call after him, but he waves you off and you turn to meet with Mr. Lara.

The island, while still massively private, has been built up like a small resort. There’s your hut, which the basic structure is the same but to it have been added a full chef’s kitchen. Several bedrooms. A living room. A master bedroom and access to the beach and a private pier.

There’s a beach barbecue patio and lounge chairs. Hidden behind the hut right in the spot Bucky built it, is the bathing pool, now with built in filtration, temperature control and more sustainable materials so that it will endure.

Your little island, the world you and Bucky created was given a full makeover. You’d always known you wanted to come back. You’d hated being stranded but the memories and the connections you’d formed here were special.

After assuring Mr. Lara that you have enough provisions on the yacht to last you until the grocery delivery arrives, you make your way back to see what’s keeping Bucky.

You’re nearly there when Bucky’s sweet chuckle stops you in your tracks. He takes the ramp onto the pier and with his hand still extended towards the yacht, you wait, your heart swelling.

“Careful.” You tell him, but he doesn’t need you to remind him.

Into view toddles a black-haired angel, eyes just as blue as his father’s. Just as you had when you’d thought about the possibility of a child with Bucky how beautiful it would be to see a mini version of him with your temper running around, it’s just so.

You wait with patience, his legs sure though slightly unsteady. His eyes scanning the area with inquisitive gusto.

He’s only just two years old but he’s already smart as a whip and when he spots you, he gasps with excitement and as soon as his little feet hit the pier, he releases Bucky’s hand and races for you.

You stoop down to scoop him and chuckle as he laughs, wrapping his arms around your neck.

“There’s my big boy.” You coo, pressing a kiss to his cheek before he can pull away. “Where are we, Robin? Do you know where this place is?”

As he straightens up, he points towards the shore. “Beesh!”

“That’s right. We’re at a beach. This is an island, Robin.” You explain, moving down the pier with him in your arms.

“I-wan.” He repeats, then giggles before squirming from your grip. “Woah, easy.”

Bucky moves forward and stops the little one before he can run.

“Hey bud, we can run down the pier and play in the sand, but you have to make me a deal, okay?”

Robin lifts his little hand up, bent at the elbow with his palm turned up as he shrugs. “Dew?”

“Yeah. We can run down to the beach if you hold my hand. Okay? The water is very deep, and mommy will cry if you fall in. You don’t want mommy to cry, do you?”

“No!” Robin exclaims, his little face suddenly angry, eyebrows drawn down on the inner corners in an exaggerated expression. “Mommy no cwy!”

“Then you’ll hold my hand?” Bucky asks, holding it out for him.

Without another word Robin takes hold of Bucky’s hand ad doesn’t wait before he’s pulling him along as fast as his little legs can.

“Be careful!” You call after them but they’re not listening anymore.

Life doesn’t function according to your plan.

While you were planning your wedding, Robin came as a sweet surprise. You postponed the wedding and instead celebrated the birth of your rainbow. Much sooner than expected but welcomed all the same.

Then you and Bucky took time to nurture your son and the wedding was finally held only two weeks ago. Honeymoon delayed to make certain the island was safe for you baby.

And although you’re saving the news for the right time, you hope that you can convince Bucky to stay here for a while, at least until your second little one comes. Just another seven months.

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