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dancingamongstdust · 3 years

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sdc group when their partner sneakily joins their Egypt mission? And they only find out when it's too late for them to return?hcs pls?

Yes! My first Jojo's request! Hopefully I get more of these in the future because I love this show.

· You didn’t even make it onto the first plane before you sensed Jotaro’ large presence standing behind you.

· You turned around with a big smile and tried to pretend that it was a complete coincidence to see him there. He just stared while you slowly made your way through the boarding terminal with your ticket out.

· His plan was to send you home the moment that you next landed.

· The fight with Tower of Gray caused a problem with that plan though the stand itself had little effect on your trip. You only noticed when the group went bustling towards the cockpit, their tones betraying the importance of what was happening.

· You had ventured over and asked about the situation.

· The majority of the group had attempted to usher you out and Jotaro didn’t even respond. Still, Star Platinum kept you safe when the plane hit the water and you were practically carried into the lifeboat with the rest of the group.

· Your comment about the trip being more hazardous than expected earned you a glare.

· The rest of the group didn’t realise anything was special about you until you all arrived in Hong Kong officially and Jotaro led you alongside them to the hotel.

· Details about your relationship with him were quickly brought up after that though he seemed content to mostly ignore everything that was said. You found yourself enjoying the conversation with Joseph though he too felt that the trip was too dangerous for you to be on.

· Jotaro didn’t share a room with you in the hotel, instead having his grandfather get you one that was next door to his.

· Before he could disappear after making sure you were safe, you quickly apologised and asked if he was upset. He was always quiet but there was a heaviness to the air that made you feel as though you’d upset him.

· He told you that you hadn’t and that was the last of that.

· You missed your flight the next day when it became clear that Dio hadn’t sent just one person after the group. Star Platinum’s tendency to hover in front of you (whether you could or couldn’t see him) made it clear that you weren’t to be put in danger.

· Jotaro thought it would make you an easy target to send you back alone after you had been seen with the group.

· He was right and you quickly found yourself an occasional target for those who didn’t know any better. They never injured you badly but scratches and bruises became expected as you continued on the journey.

· Jotaro wasn’t affectionate normally but his coldness built up until one day, you asked if he resented you being there and apologised for your brash actions. You had no idea that the things they were involved in broke the lines of reality and fiction.

· He stared at you for a bit before sighing and wrapping one arm around you.

· That was all that you needed to fling your arms around his middle and squeeze him as tight as you could.

· He didn’t need to say it for you to understand that he didn’t hold it against you. Despite the constant danger that you were in, he had found himself calmer about the situation thanks to your presence. It would have been a much harder trip without you being there.

· Kakyoin thought he saw you several times but brushed it off as wishful thinking until toward the end of their Singapore stay.

· You were remarkably good at remaining undetected but more and more creepy things were happening, and it made you want to be closer to the group. It felt like the better option if you were putting yourself in danger anyway.

· There was a moment of silence when you made eye contact – your attempts at sneaking around now thwarted.

· So you raised your hand and waved.

· Kakyoin wasn’t sure what to think. For a second, he was sure that he was imagining it but your reaction to his unexpected departure had been suspicious in hindsight. You had gone from being devastated that he was just leaving without warning, to supportive about whatever he had to do.

· And this would be why.

· You made a joke about being mildly codependent when you sat down next to him, awkward and unsure of how he would react to you being there. It was followed by a question about his sun tanning wear that made him chuckle.

· Somehow, he wasn’t overheating in his uniform even though you were dying in just casual summer clothes.

· You apologised for not telling him that you were coming but pointed out how weird he’d been acting for the past few months. Sure, he had gone back to normal afterwards but you were worried. Especially because you knew fully about the slightly weirder aspect of his life.

· Whether you could see him or not, you felt Hierophant Green appear at the mention. He wrapped around your waist as usual. Close even when Kakyoin couldn’t be.

· As if to prove your worries correct, the first thing you found out after spending a day at the pool (pretending that you were just a couple on a regular vacation) was that an imposter had been walking around as Kakyoin.

· The others weren’t entirely on board with your presence and Kakyoin wasn’t happy with the amount of danger you were in.

· Several times he attempted to convince you that it would be safer elsewhere. He even asked Joseph to get you a plane ticket home at one point but each time you would see or experience something that added to your worries.

· The only way you were going home was if he was with you.

· You managed to remain mostly out of danger despite everything. The main threat you faced came in the form of Death 13 who quickly found a way to manipulate your cares for Kakyoin.

· After the first nightmare, you had started staying up later to make sure he was okay before going to sleep – thwarting the stand’s plans in a substantial way.

· When he nearly lost his eyesight, you didn’t sleep for days on end. You sat alongside the bed and waited for him to recover. Often, you’d think you should call somebody back home to let them know what was happening but he always asked you not to.

· While he was recovering, he asked you again to go home. The trip had almost doubled in danger and he didn’t trust Hierophant to be able to protect you fully.

· You refused once more and reiterated that you had come this far.

· You weren’t going to be going back without him at your side.

· Yeah, Polnareff wouldn’t have noticed you were following at all if it hadn’t been for Jotaro.

· It was shortly after they had arrived in Varanashi and you had accidentally drawn attention to yourself by laughing at Polanareff’s attempts at flirting with Nena. Though he himself hadn’t noticed that you were there, Jotaro had and he quickly come to the conclusion of having seen you before.

· You had made eye contact with him and quickly realised that continuing to hide was going to turn dangerous.

· So you waltzed over to your very distracted partner and draped yourself over his shoulders, playing with the earring and smugly smirking at whomever he had been flirting with.

· He was a flirt, that part you had never minded, but it was always satisfying to show off that he wasn’t truly available.

· Not having expected your sudden appearance, Polnareff had almost fallen over in his scramble to get away from you. After the shock subsided however, he had gasped and swept you into the air with an excited greeting and a seemingly endless stream of French.

· After you were put down, he rapidly introduced you to the rest of the group before realising that you weren’t meant to be there.

· You gave Jotaro an apologetic smile and mentioned that you hadn’t meant to cause trouble with your following.

· He had rolled his eyes and gone back to staring at nothing so you had to assume it was all fine now that you had shown you weren’t an enemy.

· Polnareff on the other hand had begun interrogating you to find out exactly why you had been in India when he remembered saying goodbye to you in France. Though admittedly, that memory was hazy due to the fleshbud having been in effect during time.

· When you explained his suspicious behavior was why you had followed in the first place, he gathered you close and squeezed you as tightly as possible.

· Your unexpected appearance came at the right time. After the bittersweet experience with the Hanged Man, Polnareff had been struggling and you acted as the best possible solution.

· You are a distraction, that much quickly becomes obvious, but it’s not necessarily a bad thing.

· Unfortunately, you did end up getting injured quite frequently while you were with the group but never once did Polnareff mention sending you home. You were never hurt in a way that would leave more than a small scar.

· The others did suggest it once but Polnareff had instantly shut that down.

· He could make sure you were safe. Why wouldn’t he want you with him at all times?

· You got quite a bit of attention during the trip, primarily from other men who all took great interest in you. It was entertaining to see the contrast between your casual attraction of attention and Polnareff’s active seeking of it.

· The only time either of you got actually jealous during the trip was of Iggy who had quickly realised how to exploit both of you.

· Surprisingly, you managed to follow the group all the way to Singapore before you were spotted by Avdol.

· You could have made it further still without notice but you had been so worried when their ship didn’t arrive in time that you just ran into Avdol the next time you saw him, hugging him as though he was going to slip from your fingers and never return again.

· Avdol was confused though he held it in well enough, just stroking your hair and reassuring you that he was alright.

· After you had calmed and pulled away, he touched your cheek before asking what you were doing there.

· You just shrugged and he sighed.

· Introductions happened then and you made an incredible impression on the rest of the group. Apparently Avdol had been sending you updates about his trip but due to your following, nothing had gotten through and you had to be caught up with everything they had learned.

· Stands were far from a foreign concept to you but you found yourself fascinated by the newer ones.

· Magician’s Red came out shortly after you had examined Silver Chariot closely – betraying Avdol’s otherwise well-hidden jealousy. He simply smiled and winked when you had given him a look because of it.

· He knew their trip would be difficult but Avdol couldn’t bring himself to send you home.

· You had spent such little time together since his first encounter with Dio (him having to flee Egypt shortly after) and he genuinely missed you more than he cared to admit. Additionally, Avdol was very certain that their group could protect you with the combination of knowledge and power they had.

· Avdol kept you well protected while you travelled. Nobody suspicious even got close to you while you were near him.

· He guided you away from dangerous situations with a hand around your waist and a smile on his face. You never even knew there was a problem. Those who got too close quickly found themselves at the mercy of Magician’s Red.

· Even if you couldn’t see his stand, the warmth of its presence would quickly alert you to its appearance. If you could see it though, Avdol would find it harder to brush off things as ‘precaution’ though he would still try.

· After his initial encounter with Hol Horse, you felt your entire world shatter around you.

· That was the end of your journey with the Crusaders as, after he was stabilized, you refused to leave Avdol’s side. You tended to him as best as you could while secretly hoping that he wouldn’t rejoin their quest after this injury.

· But as he recovered you realised that wouldn’t be an option.

· You volunteered to come with him again. Though you hadn’t been much help on the earlier parts of the journey, he was still injured and could probably use your assistance.

· The incident had been frightening to both of you however and when he next left, you weren’t with him. Before he left, you clutched at his clothing in a silent plead for him to stay.

· After the submarine disappeared beneath the waves, you sat down on the beach and just stared at the ocean for hours to come.

· You got to India before he noticed you and it was a complete accident.

· There was a problem with your hotel booking so you had to remain in the lobby for longer than anticipated – a hand propped on your hip and a bored expression on your face. You hadn’t anticipated that the group would make their way downstairs again, a problem with some missing room service.

· Honestly, he really should have noticed sooner given that the additional charges were coming from his account.

· To the others, nothing was wrong. Joseph just kind of stopped walking and you offered a simple smile in hopes that neither of your covers would be blown.

· He didn’t allow that to last.

· His shout of confusion made everybody jump and you turned around sheepishly. There were a few seconds while the rest of the group realised that you were the source of the commotion so you volunteered your information.

· You had been worried after Joseph’s stand developed (having been there when it happened) and you realised something dangerous was going on. While you weren’t planning on getting involved, surely it couldn’t help to at least know what was happening. From his stories, he didn’t exactly live the quiet life.

· Avdol – having met you before – had a feeling that you were trailing him and is pleasantly surprised to be proved correct.

· Joseph was irritated and worried and happy all at once which resulted in a half-hearted but very loud complaint about why you couldn’t understand what the word ‘dangerous’ means.

· He immediately demanded that you take the first plane home and you very simply responded with ‘no’.

· This resulted in a pretty one-sided argument where he continuously tried to urge you to stop being stubborn and just get back to safety. Your response remained the same to pretty much everything until eventually you just smiled and said that it was good to see him.

· That flustered him enough to cut off his tirade.

· A small silence was broken by the return of the hotel receptionist who couldn’t find a spare room to make up for the booking not coming through on their system. She began apologising when Joseph cut her off.

· It didn’t matter, you would be staying with him either way.

· Avdol sighed and commented something about having to change rooms when the question was finally asked by a very irate Jotaro.

· Who the fuck were you?

· There was a great deal of awkward stammering from Joseph before he eventually settled on saying that you were his assistant. You raised an eyebrow at that but went along with it.

· Though it was obvious that nobody believed it, the matter of your identity wasn’t pushed any further.

· You stuck around after that, mostly remaining at the hotel, and occasionally getting slightly hurt. Joseph made very sure that you remained far from any potential stands and you really didn’t mind that all too much.

· A rule was quickly made to make sure you weren’t ever left alone but that was just fine. You ended up dragging Joseph into too many stores, him complaining about it all the while, until you both left with at least one bag each.

· Jotaro didn’t warm up to you for a long time and even then, it’s more tolerance than anything else.

· The trip didn’t leave you badly injured but it strengthened your relationship with Joseph more than you had ever expected.

#jjba #jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo part 3 #jojo headcanons #joseph joestar #joseph joestar x reader #oldseph #oldseph x reader #muhammad avdol #avdol x reader #avdol headcanons #polnareff x reader #jjba polnareff #jjba kakyoin #noriaki kakyoin #kakyoin x reader #jotaro #jotaro x reader #stardust crusaders

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julek · 3 years

Text

for love, for love, for love

for @writinglizards <3 love you, i hope you enjoy the filth. | READ ON AO3

rated E | 2.8K | warnings: A/B/O, intersex omegas, knotting

The sun was shining, birds were singing, and Jaskier was in love.

After years and years and some more years of pining and moping around miserably, Jaskier had finally gathered up the courage (and the liquor) to look into soft vanilla-eyes and utter the most important three words that had ever crossed his mind. And he’d watched as Geralt’s eyes had softened, melting into amber, and crinkled around the corners; felt the way his scent had gone sweet and the faint smell of lust had begun to fill his senses.

And they’d fallen into bed — after a murmured yes, I do too, and a sigh of relief, and sweet nothings whispered between long-coming kisses. And Jaskier had found himself pressed flat against the rickety inn bed as Geralt’s breaths came hot and heavy against his throat, their hips pressed together. They’d come just like that — legs entwined and sweaty kisses being pressed into each other’s skin.

Jaskier had expected Witchers to be different — Geralt had offhandedly mentioned some of the changes they’d had to go through in their adolescence, the way their skin stretched and their muscles tore apart just to be rebuilt anew. He was the only omega in his pack, he’d told him, and had therefore been trained harder, pushed into new limits just to be assured he would stand his ground in a fight. What a load of shit, Jaskier had thought, the image of a brown-haired Geralt chained to a bed, crying out in pain making his hackles rise.

“I want you to knot me,” Geralt had murmured against his chest, unprompted, that first night. Jaskier groaned.

“You— that— you can’t just say that to me, Geralt,” he’d huffed, frowning at Geralt’s self-satisfied smirk. “You’ve basically rendered me useless for the months to come, dear.”

Geralt shrugged. “I want you to,” he said simply. “I wanted you to, tonight.”

“Oh?” Jaskier made an inhuman effort to sit up straighter, propped against the wall with two-hundred pounds of satisfied Witcher on top of him. “I didn’t— I would never assume.”

Geralt pressed a kiss to the hollow of his throat, burrowing closer into Jaskier’s warmth. “I know,” he murmured. Then, he took a deep breath. “It’s harder, for us,” he said. “To be… prepared.” He looked up at Jaskier. “Here,” he said, and took Jaskier’s hand, guiding it down to his crotch. Jaskier’s breath hitched as his fingers gently brushed against Geralt’s folds, but a tiny frown appeared on his brow when, instead of hot wetness, he was met with dry skin.

He looked at Geralt. “But did you—”

“I did,” Geralt reassured him. He closed his eyes. “Witchers— I can’t produce much slick. No matter how much I want to.”

“Oh,” Jaskier said, his voice small.

Geralt took Jaskier’s hand back, began playing with his fingers. “I’m— I can’t carry. The Trials took that away, and they thought… they thought I wouldn’t be tempted to try, either, if it was harder for me to…” He trails off, gesturing at their bodies. “I’m broken. I’m sorry.”

Jaskier took him into his arms and hugged him tightly to his chest, his nose pressed against the crook of his neck, and felt Geralt’s shoulders release some of the tension they were holding. “I love you,” he murmured. “You. You’re not broken.” He kissed the top of his head. “I want you to feel good. To enjoy yourself.” He pulled back, meeting Geralt’s eyes. “You make me feel—” He spluttered, at a loss for eloquency, and it made Geralt laugh. “I don’t even have words for it. You make me feel incredible, love, and I only want the same for you.”

Geralt leaned his forehead against Jaskier’s. “Thank you,” he said, his voice small. “I do want your knot, though.”

Jaskier laughed, his thumb rubbing Geralt’s hip soothingly. “And I’d love to give it to you, any time, no questions asked,” he replied. “Is there something we could do?”

Geralt leaned back, sitting on Jaskier’s lap. They were touching everywhere, and Jaskier couldn’t get enough of it. “Oil could work. Takes too much time, though, and it— it doesn’t feel good.” He frowned. “We could… when my heat comes,” he said, awkwardly. “No way of telling when that would be, though.”

The sole mention of sharing Geralt’s heat made Jaskier’s Alpha preen. “You’d like that?”

Geralt nodded. “I would.” His shoulders slumped slightly. “I’m sorry it’s all I can offer you, Jask.”

Jaskier shook his head, his hands coming up to rest on either side of Geralt’s head. “You are enough,” he said. “All of you, always. Believe me” —he rocked his half-hard cock against Geralt’s thigh— “you will never leave me wanting. I want you because I love you, not because I want to fuck you.” Geralt smiled. “Which I do want to do, because you drive me insane— but I’d happily be by your side if all you ever wanted to do was kiss,” he said, and pressed a sweet kiss to Geralt’s lips to emphasize his point. “Because I love you.”

There was a faint blush on Geralt’s cheeks, and he smirked. “You’ve said.”

“And I hope you know I’ll never stop,” Jaskier replied, grinning. “I love you, I love you, I lo—”

Geralt had shut him up with a kiss of his own.

Seasons had passed, flowers had bloomed and empires had fallen, and they’d gotten creative. Geralt was insatiable, Jaskier had learned, and he’d discovered countless ways to make him come — on his fingers, on his mouth, rutting against his half-blown knot. Their scents were intermingled, now, sweet jasmine and olives entangled with leather and fresh bread.

“My heat is near,” Geralt whispered to him one night, pressed against his body as they were laying on their bedrolls.

“Yeah?” Jaskier replied, willing the thumping of his heart to slow down, even if Geralt would be able to tell anyway. “How near?”

Geralt rolled around to face him. “A week.”

Smiling softly, Jaskier pressed him closer, wrapping his arms around him and dropping a kiss on his temple. Tentatively, Geralt purred against him. “A week.”

As the days passed, Jaskier could feel Geralt grow more and more restless, pacing around their camp on nights when he had nothing else to do and kicking and thrashing in his sleep. His scent was changing, too, turning sweeter and heavier, making Jaskier dizzy whenever he caught a whiff of it.

He secured an inn room for them, his hard-earned coin going into the sticky hands of the innkeeper. Geralt had protested — had argued he could spend his heat in the forest, for crying out loud, but he’d taken one look at Jaskier and realized there would be no bargaining.

He hadn’t let Jaskier help with the nest, though. In fact, he’d made him leave the room — just outside, though, as he couldn’t stand it if Jaskier wandered too far — and had looked very sheepish as Jaskier had walked in again, his eyes falling on his arrangement. Jaskier had refrained from calling it adorable and shedding a tear or two, only because Geralt’s heat was hours away and he could not get his hands off him.

“I need you,” Geralt whined, already scrambling to get Jaskier’s clothes off. “Now.”

Not one to argue, Jaskier hurried to remove his doublet and chemise as Geralt hungrily tore at the knots on his trousers. Their mouths clashed against each other, hot and wet, as Geralt kissed him fiercely, Jaskier giving as good as he got. He got a hold of Geralt’s undershirt and took it off, tossing it on the floor, and his pants followed. He pulled back, and took a moment.

“What?” Geralt said, and Jaskier’s Alpha roared at the sight of him — fully nude and covered in a light sheen of sweat, the sunlight pouring from the closed window enveloping him in warmth, his flushed cheeks and tousled hair the picture of his dreams, his hard cocklet jutting against the cut of his abdomen, an inviting sight.

“Look at you,” Jaskier rumbled, his hands coming down to frame Geralt’s waist. Geralt let out a pitiful whine, embarrassed. “No, no— how could you be ashamed, when you look this beautiful.” He nosed at his throat, breathing in the sweet, ripe scent of him. “I want to eat you up.”

“Please.” Geralt pressed himself against Jaskier’s body, his cocklet rocking against Jaskier’s half-hard cock. “Please, Alpha.”

Any thread of sanity Jaskier had been holding onto snapped as he growled low in his throat in response, mouthing at Geralt’s shoulder, feeling the shudder that ran down his spine. “Geralt.”

“Yes, please, yes, Jaskier,” he panted. “Please.”

Pressing a tender kiss to his mouth, Jaskier led him to the bed. They fell against the soft, worn blankets, Geralt’s back pressed against them as his thighs winded around Jaskier’s waist.

“So eager,” he teased, but rocked down against Geralt. He pressed kisses to his mouth, his cheeks, his throat, any part of him he could reach as his fingers travelled down Geralt’s chest, down, down, down until he brushed against his cocklet, making him moan. “There you go,” he said, jerking him between his fingers. “Good boy.”

Geralt gasped at the praise, falling back against the mattress, boneless, as Jaskier pressed open-mouthed kisses down his body, following the invisible line his finger had drawn just a moment ago. “Such a good boy for me,” he murmured, reveling in the needy mewl it pulled out of his Witcher. “So beautiful.”

“Jask—” whatever Geralt wanted to say died in his throat as Jaskier licked a stripe up his cunt and his words dissolved into a punched-out moan. “F-fuck, Jask.”

Jaskier hummed against him, his tongue lapping gently against Geralt’s folds, the taste of his slick inundating his senses. He wasn’t dripping, not yet, but as Jaskier pressed his finger against Geralt’s opening, he could feel its warmth as it clenched around nothing. “So wet for me,” he panted, pressing a kiss to the curls just above his cocklet. “Such a pretty omega.”

“Jask,” Geralt moaned, his hand coming down to rest on Jaskier’s head as he continued lapping at his cunt, the filthy sounds of Geralt’s moans and his slick going straight to his cock where it hung heavy between his legs, neglected. Gently, Jaskier pushed his tongue against Geralt’s entrance, fucking him with shallow thrusts in a rhythm he knew drove Geralt crazy, delighted in the barely-there resistance he found as he pushed his tongue inside.

“I’m— Jask,” Geralt panted, his grip tight on Jaskier’s hair, “I’m gonna—”

Jaskier hummed against him, and that drove him over the edge. Geralt’s thighs pressed hard against Jaskier’s head, locking him in, his cunt clenching around nothing as his hips rocked forward against Jaskier’s tongue, little ah, ah, ah sounds being pulled out of him.

“So good,” Jaskier purred, his fingers rubbing soothing circles on Geralt’s thighs as his breaths evened out. Jaskier had always teased him for how useless he was rendered once he’d come, but the scent of his heat was thick and heavy around them, and he could see in Geralt’s eyes that he wouldn’t be sleeping any time soon. Good, his Alpha rumbled, let’s keep our pretty mate awake.

Jaskier shook his head, willing his possessive Alpha away. Geralt wasn’t his — as much as he’d wanted to — and he wasn’t going to be yet another knotheaded alpha who couldn’t keep his teeth to himself.

“Hey,” Geralt said softly, bringing him out of his reverie. He was looking at him with tenderness in his eyes. “C’mere.”

Jaskier went happily, his mouth finding Geralt’s in a slow, deep kiss. He swallowed Geralt’s moan as he tasted himself in his mouth, his fingers brushing lightly against Geralt’s soft stomach.

He grinned when he felt Geralt whine.

“Desperate already?”

In response, Geralt flipped them around, positioning himself above Jaskier as he ground down against him. His cocklet was rock-hard again, brushing against Jaskier’s leaking cock, making him moan.

“You feel so good, pup,” he managed, his hands resting on Geralt’s hips, not guiding, simply holding. “So— fuck, so perfect.”

Geralt bent down to kiss him, filthy and hard, and suddenly the movement stopped. Jaskier was about to complain when Geralt lifted himself up a bit, and Jaskier felt his dripping cunt grind against the base of his cock.

“Fuck, Geralt— fuck.” The pressure on his aching knot made his eyes roll back in his head with pleasure, and fuck— Geralt’s cunt was wet and soft against him as he moved up and down. They both moaned as, on a well-aimed thrust, the head of Jaskier’s cock caught on Geralt’s opening.

“Jaskier,” his Witcher panted, and there was a needy edge to his voice, “please.”

“What do you want?” Jaskier asked, out of breath himself, his hands running up and down Geralt’s sides as he rocked his length against Geralt.

Geralt whined. “You.”

“You’ll need— ah— to be more specific, dear.”

“I want— fuck,” Geralt shuddered. “I need your knot.”

Jaskier was a mere mortal, after all. In a swift movement, he pressed two of his fingers to Geralt’s sopping cunt, rubbing his entrance just to get him used to the feeling. He was used to it — had come on Jaskier’s fingers rubbing against him more than once — but Jaskier needed to be sure.

“C’mon, I’m good, please.” Jaskier pressed his fingers inside, punching out a groan out of his Witcher, who rocked down on his fingers as deep as he could go. “More,” he pleaded, and Jaskier could do nothing more than comply.

With three fingers deep inside of him, Geralt deemed himself ready. “Now, Jaskier, please.”

Jaskier used his slicked-up hand to smooth over his cock, and Geralt whined at the loss, chanting feverishly, “Please Alpha, please, I need your knot, want it so bad, I need—”

“Geralt,” Jaskier said, reaching for a kiss. Geralt melted against him, and Jaskier positioned him over his swollen cock. “Ready?”

Geralt clawed at his back. “Yes, yes, please—”

In one smooth motion, Jaskier entered him. It felt heavenly, the wet warmth enveloping him and swallowing him whole, the feeling of Geralt’s body against him, sweaty and wound-up and perfect, his needy mewls coming out of his chest unbidden. He reveled in it.

But then, Geralt started to move, and whatever ode Jaskier had been composing in his head flew out of the window, because this— this made Jaskier sob, for there was nothing like it.

Jaskier leaned back against the blankets and watched, enraptured, as Geralt bounced up and down on his cock, and it was filthy — the way his hair was messy and disheveled, his cheeks dark red and his eyes shut with pleasure — but it was also oh so tender, watching him chase his release with abandon.

“Fuck, Jask,” Geralt moaned, his hands on Jaskier’s chest as he picked up speed, Jaskier’s swollen knot catching on his entrance. Slick was dripping down his thighs. “Feel so good.”

Jaskier groaned, his orgasm building up inside him. “Geralt, dear— fucking Melitele— fuck, I’m not going to last.”

“Good,” Geralt purred, his pace never faltering. “Give me your knot, Alpha.”

And oh, how Jaskier wanted to. Still, “Are you sure?”

Geralt slowed down the slightest bit, and pressed a soft kiss to Jaskier’s lips. “I’m sure,” he said. “I love you.”

Jaskier pushed his knot inside as he came with a groan. All he could think of was Geralt, Geralt, Geralt, as he felt him clench down on his knot, milking him. “Fuck, Geralt—”

“Yes, yes, good Alpha,” Geralt chanted, reaching down between his legs and rubbing his leaking cocklet. “Jaskier—”

He kept coming, pumping Geralt full of it, and the thought made him shudder. “My sweet omega, so beautiful, so good to me—”

Geralt came with a cry, his hips stuttering and pushing Jaskier’s knot deeper inside him. It dragged a moan out of Jaskier, feeling the tie tug against him, and Geralt collapsed on top of him.

Gently, and with as much care as he could manage, Jaskier arranged them on their sides. They moaned as the movement tugged on Jaskier’s knot, and Jaskier pressed a kiss to Geralt’s temple, his arms wrapped around him.

“Geralt,” he whispered.

“Mmm.”

Jaskier laughed, dazed. “Love.”

“Mmmmmmm.”

Ah, useless after coming. “How do you feel?”

Geralt pressed back against him, clenching weakly around him. “Good,” he rasped. “So good.”

Jaskier hummed behind him, pressing soft kisses on his shoulder, his neck, his cheek. “I’m glad.”

Geralt turned his head, reaching for a kiss. Jaskier gave it to him. “I love you,” he whispered against his lips, and Jaskier felt his heart leap in his chest.

“I love you too,” he answered.

Geralt watched him through half-lidded eyes. It made Jaskier laugh. “Go to sleep, old man.”

Geralt frowned at him, then clenched hard, making Jaskier gasp.

“You—” Jaskier hissed, “are lucky you’re pretty.”

Geralt closed his eyes, smug, and nestled himself against Jaskier, kneading at the blankets.

“Sleep,” Jaskier murmured. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Geralt’s scent spiked with lust. “Gather your strength,” he mumbled sleepily. “You’ll need it.”

#mywriting #smut directly under the cut lmao #geraskier fanfic #a/b/o geraskier #geraskier smut #geralt x jaskier

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rumblelibrary · 3 years

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Exhibitionism and jealous sex with Zemo? 👉👈

I need him like showing off to everyone exactly who you belong to 👀

Colonel Helmut Zemo x EKO!Reader

(This is like my main land, Colonel Zemo and his favourite Lieutenant are back showing off their power dynamics to the rest of the group)

Warnings: SMUT, public sex

To stare at his lands from the above alway quieted the mind of Zemo, it brought him rest. Sokovia. That’s all they did it for. That’s all he was on that cargo plane with his squad for.

He swore to protect it, to make sure to bring it to freedom, one day. Maybe not today, maybe not without blood. But he will.

Now for the imminent problem.

To get down a small group of weapons dealers, of course the Stark Industries behind it as always, but these men were using Sokovia as land of exchange and this had to change.

His eyes travelled over you getting geared up in your tactical suit, you looked ravishing even in that. This wasn’t a mission you were needed, you were good at infiltrate, gaslighting, manipulation, you were his chess queen masked as a pawn, but he cousin’t really give you a discount for being extra good at what you do. His attention drastically shifted when another member of the team coming behind you to help as you chatted quietly. You smiled at him as he bowed lightly to say something to your ear and you smiled nodding.

Those moments before a mission, usually Zemo would spend those with you framing the important informations you have to keep in mind and instead you’re there flirting? Also, with him? Among all?

He studied the way he leaned forward, bowing his head and his facial expression. He really was going hard on you and you even let him do it. Oh, you were enjoying it, you were like a cat that moves around the ankles of a stranger to earn some undeserved food and attentions. Maybe you won’t ever pay back those attentions and yet look how he gave in for it. The chance to be the one you will celebrate the success of the mission with enough to make the man strive for it.

Then Zemo saw it, that hand resting on your hip and yet no reaction.

What game were you playing at?

Even the faint hope you were giving your comrade was irritating the Baron, you won’t celebrate with anyone but him, the rules are clear and yet you seemed up for testing the waters. You looked up and your eyes met, oh you knew. You knew you fucked up and yet you put your hand on the other man’s arm with a reassuring touch.

Then the time to put on the parachutes was on, these dealers had their headquarters in the middle of a forest and the only way to get them down was to surprise them from above in order to avoid mines and other traps.

Zemo shifted from his position to get ready himself even if that sense of uneasiness was still pestering him.

His eyes drifted back to the man, a smirk playing on his lips as you now got parted.

His friends coming closer to him giving him pats on the back and whispering things he would never allow to be said about his woman.

You were one of the first to do the jump and Zemo leaned beside you, the cold air hitting the bot of you.

“Are you sure of what you’re doing?”

You looked up at him as he pushed that question on you, there was no surprise in you. That almost made Zemo want to flip you immediately. You knew exactly what you were doing, he wasn’t misreading.

“I am” you said pulling down the mask covering your mouth, almost shouting to be heard “what about you?”

He frowned to your come back as you pulled that mask back up and jumped soon followed by the ones after you.

Zemo frowned as he took also the parachute and followed up.

The mission was hands down a success, no loss from your side and the whole place destroyed, now he will only sand a group to make sure the surrounding lands get cleaned up from any possible explosives. Back on the cargo plane Helmut looked at the team undoing their technical suits and cleaning their weapons, his eyes once more on you. As always you have been a proper sight on field. You’re not enhanced by serums in any way nor trained since you were a child. You just have it in you, that hunger, that primal instinct to do or die.

Once more, that comrade came closer to you, he talked to you quietly, whispering close to you, his way of behaving rubbing Zemo in all the wrong ways. Plus the fact you’re doing it on purpose. You are destabilising the group like this.

He called everybody’s attention as most of the group was on the seats on the sides of the plane.

“Today’s mission could be considered a success, but you were still slow” he said as the group frowned, Zemo always strived for perfection and he knew soon or later they will have to face something greater than a pair of smugglers.

“But the thing that I find most insulting of tonight’s mission is how some of you believe that they can play among the ranks”

A thick silence fell over the team, only you were still looking at him as he observed their reaction.

He let his little sentence sink in before adding “we do not mix Andalusian Horses with donkeys here”

Only a baron could do such a metaphor and you smirked lightly to yourself as he glared at you, being the closest to him in the chain of command you were beside him and he rested his back against the wall staring at you, his legs spreading.

If you had an hint of fear in your body you’d probably get worried, feel the pressure of what he was implying, of what he wanted to prove. Everyone knew there was one favourite and that was you. Not because he went easy on you, oh no, to be his favourite you had to be the hungriest and most savage of them all. The favouritism was the chance to be in his arms, beside to be his right arm.

You stood up and leaned in to look at him, he didn’t wince. Oh, he was mad you were giving hopes to the guy.

You kneeled down undoing his pants as he stared at you. Oh he wished you’d be afraid of this, but you’re not, you’re just where you wanted to be in the moment you welcomed his cock between your lips. You gave a big show indeed, you were skilled and you showed it off, you used your tongue licking striped of saliva over his cock, you even left out a soft moan as it vibrated against his sensitive skin. You hummed pleased sucking his tip softly, before going down bobbing your head.

He didn’t touch your head, he kept his hands still as he stared at you, you looked for it, asked for it, his hips snapping every now and the hitting the back of your throat.

The soft whines coming from you as he pulled his cock abruptly out and you pressed your tongue fat over the vein on it, looking for welcoming it back into your warm mouth. But that was enough already.

The rest of the group was growing restless, staring and resisting barely to start palming themselves.

“Up”

He ordered and you stood up undoing your pants pulling them down with your undergarment “You’re making a show” you whispered to him.

“You will give the show now” he assured to you gesturing you to turn around with a finger when you moved to sit on his lap “you have been looking for this, didn’t you?”

You groaned softly as he pushed his cock inside you snapping his hips hard inside you “oh, I should have prepped you, poor baby”

He cooed at you slapping your thigh as his hand moved onto your throat, your back resting against his chest as you actually bounced back his thrusts, you liked it and you weren’t holding it back.

Even if the beginning was raw you were too aroused by the whole situation, your body jerking over it in pleasure as he was blessing and punishing you with his attentions

“Tell everyone how much you like it”

“I love it” you moaned

“louder!”

You repeated is again before his hand squeezed harshly your neck, you parted your lips as he just went harder, he controlled your breathing skilfully, he swayed his hips harshly.

“You’re my bitch, let everyone hear the way you call out for more”

He growled into your ear as you held yourself up on his upper thighs, you knew you were playing a dangerous game there, you were teasing the wrong man.

But how pleasurable it was.

The whole group wasn’t letting out a word even if the air was thick, the arousal evident, the man you were teasing before just sweating his soul out for fear mixed up with excitement. That was what Helmut wanted to obtain: you’re an eye candy, but to look and not to touch.

His lips brushing over the skin of your neck, his groans resonating through you.

The way he touched you, the way he slammed into your body, changed angle and trusted more. The way his free hand touched you.

He wanted you to cum out loud. To make a mess on his lap.

There was only one man you couldn’t ever lie to and it was him, only one man held your devotion, your complete submission, the only one that you could accept something like this from without ever considering it an humiliation. It was a pack leader kind of ritual, showing the younger wolves who was the alpha through you and all of them knew you weren’t exactly a defenceless flower.

“Hel”

It was a soft whisper yours, almost strangled by the pressure he held on your neck.

He had to make you cum, it was part of showing them who you belonged to “It won’t end here”

A whisper, a promise you wished and knew he would keep as his fingers grasped over your body forcing you into a very obscene orgasm, the sounds you made could be recorded and played to torture touch starved people in jail, the other members of the group shivering in their spots. If you overacted it just to make it be heard loud and clear not even Helmut could say it.

He thrusted inside you more, once, twice until you felt him release into you and you shivered letting out a pleased moan to be full of him.

Your landing wasn’t far, the plane arrived just on time to let others stare intensely at Zemo to order to break the lines.

He didn’t satisfy them immediately. The had to see it, to see you shiver as his cum dripped on your inner thighs while still on top of him. Only when they did witnessed it, all of them he ordered them to leave.

You rested against him few moments more catching up your breath.

His hands travelling onto your body squeezing your thighs hard almost to the point of bruising you.

“You are a manipulative whore”

You chuckled “I leaned from the best”

He smirked with a soft chuckle escaping him.

“So it is reviewing time, show me what else you learned”

#helmut zemo fanfiction #colonel helmut zemo x reader #colonel helmut zemo #baron zemo fanfiction #baron zemo x y/n #baron helmut zemo x reader #baron zemo x reader #baron zemo smut #baron zemo x you #baron helmut zemo x you #baron zemo #helmut zemo x y/n #helmut zemo smut #helmut zemo x you #helmut zemo au #baron helmut zemo #helmut zemo #helmut zemo x reader #helmut zemo imagine

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kylorenisadorkable · 3 years

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How TROS Failed Rey

These are just my opinions and from my personal perspective, if these things worked for you in the movie then cool, but this is why it was never going to work for me.

A Feminine Power Fantasy

Growing up in the 90s there wasn't a ton of media that had female lead characters. I grew up with strong female characters but they were often relegated to being the token girl of the group (see the Smurfette principle), the story was never centered around them and we never got to experience things from their point of view or really get to know their story. It felt like I was being asked to relate to male characters but boys were never asked or expected to relate to female characters.

Just as young boys see themselves as Luke, leading the adventure I also wanted to see myself as the main character. I wanted to have my own adventures.

When I first saw TFA, I went in knowing nothing about the movie. I had seen the OT and the Prequels as a kid and I had thought they were ok but I wasn't a huge Star Wars fan and in hindsight I really think this was due to the lack of female representation, Leia and Padme are great but I never really felt like I really got to know them as people. Not to mention that these characters are 2 women out of a cast that's predominantly male, it just seemed like the message LF was sending was that Star Wars is for boys, yeah girls can watch it if they want to but this isn't a series that is meant for you. So as you could guess I wasn't really expecting much from these new Star Wars movies, but I was pleasantly surprised.

I fell in love with Rey's character during those first 3 minutes of her introduction. During this brilliant example of “show don't tell,” story telling they were really able to convey so much about Rey's character and personality, I really began to care for her and felt like I understood her, as I could relate to her loneliness and isolation in my own way. And I was excited to see a story from a major fantasy/adventure franchise told from a feminine perspective. It felt like I was finally getting the representation I wanted to see.

So what happened? How did we go from Luke's line “And I will not be the Last Jedi” which is essentially him “passing the torch” to Rey, the next generation, to “One day I will earn your brother's saber?”

As if the saber didn't already choose her in the Force Awakens? Why did they decide that all of a sudden Rey was unworthy? Didn't Yoda say “that library held nothing that the girl Rey didn't already posses?” which yes was a clever way of saying that Rey already took the jedi texts with her but was also implying that she already had everything she needed within herself to be a jedi (courage, humility, compassion etc...). Why did they take a step backwards in the last movie in the franchise? Insisting that Rey needed to train, that she suddenly wasn't good enough?

I can't say for sure what happened to lead up to this point. Was it just that the creative team gave in to the pressuring of a loud minority of alt-right youtubers and bots. Were they relying on Reddit and Twitter for public opinion rather than doing actual marketing research? While I think that this was definitely a big factor I think there was just a general misunderstanding of the characters on Terrio's and JJ's part to begin with.

What Does Rey Want/Need?

To know where they went wrong, we have to ask ourselves who is Rey? All characters have a story goal, or the thing they want. By the end of the story the character will either get what they want after some struggles of course or learn that the thing that they want isn't what they need. So what does Rey want? To understand what she wants we have to first understand her wound or past experience that caused emotional pain and interferes with the character's life. Rey's wound stems from her abandonment. Along with the wound, comes the concept of the false lie. What is a lie that the character believes about themselves that we as the audience knows is untrue? Rey's lie is first, that her family is going to come back for her.

The other lie she tells herself is the belief that she is worthless because she was abandoned, as she tells everyone she meets “I'm no one“ or “I'm just a scavenger.”

When Daisy Ridley was asked in an interview why Rey says she's “No One.” Ridley says it's because our relationships to people define so much of who we are and without relationships then who are we? This makes sense considering that our parents are major influences in our development and in how we think about ourselves through much of our lives.

Rey seeks out parental figures, thinking that through them she'll figure out where she belongs. “Whoever you're waiting for on Jakku, they're never coming back. But there's someone who still could. The Belonging you seek is not behind you. It is ahead.”

Rey initially believes that Maz is referring to Luke and when she later sets off to find him. She believe that he is going to be able to give her answers, and provide her with the belonging that she longs for, but Luke ultimately ends up disappointing her but finds comfort in her relationship with Ben.

This goes back to the idea that what Rey thinks she wants, Isn't necessarily what she needs. As JJ stated in the directors commentary of The Force Awakens, “So there was a very powerful idea that what she desperately wanted was belonging, which she’ll get, but just not how she expects.”

JJ and Terrio try to fullfill Rey's need through “found family” the family she finds with her friends and the resistance, but I think there is more to Rey's desire of wanting family that can't be satisfied by this alone. Finn, Poe, Leia are definitely a part of her journey in finding belonging but they're not the final piece to the puzzle. Otherwise she would have felt completely fulfilled by the end of The Last Jedi when she is on the Falcon surrounded by her friends.

I think part of Rey's desire for family, is also the desire to be understood, to be “seen.” Rey even tells Finn in TROS that “People keep telling me they know me. No one does.” We hear Ben's response in the trailer “But I do...” (which was cut from the movie)

Ben has always been shown to be the person who truly “sees” Rey. He sees even the aspects of herself that she doesn't like to acknowledge. Recognizing that her holding on to her parents is affecting her negatively and that if she really wants to “find herself” she needs to let go.

Which is why when Ben says “You have no place in this story. You're nothing. But not to me.” What is really being expressed is “I don't care about where you come from and I see you for who you are.”

This is why I believe that Ben was always suppose to be the final piece to the belonging Rey is searching for. As their narratives are intertwined. They both satisfy each others needs as characters, Rey's need to be seen for who she is and Ben's need for reconciliation and healing within his family.

Rey Palpatine

Rian Johnson said that when he began working on The Last Jedi, he wrote out all the character's names and next to them wrote what would be the hardest thing for that character to face. For Rey, this was that she needs to stand on her own two feet and define who she is for herself but JJ and Terrio seemed to have misunderstood this as Terrio states that,

“We also thought that Rey’s arc cannot be finished after Episode VIII. You can leave Episode VIII and say, “Well, now, Rey is content. She’s discovered her parents aren’t Skywalkers, or whatever, and that’s fine.” But so much of her personal story was about where she came from, what kept her on Jakku all those years and the trauma that shaped her. We see quite strongly in Episode VII that something mysterious and troubling happened to her. Although she did get some answers in Episode VIII, we didn’t feel that that story was over. We felt that there were still more questions in Rey’s head about where she came from and where she was going. So, that was the other big idea that we had to address in this film. Rian’s answer to, “What’s the worst news that Rey could receive?” was that she comes from junk traders, and that’s true. She does come from junk traders; we didn’t contradict that.”

Rey's conflict wasn't that she came from junk traders. Rey didn't care about “legacy.” Her conflict stemmed from her abandonment. Rey thinks she's “a nobody” not because of her parent's occupation or lineage but because she feels that she must be worthless because why else would her parents give her up? Rey learning that her parents sold her off for drinking money, that they didn't want her, was already a difficult and traumatic truth to overcome. Star Wars is a coming of age story, in the OT Luke grows from being a boy longing for adventure to discovering what it truly means to be a Jedi (following your principles and having a compassionate heart). Rey's journey is about letting go of childhood trauma and discovering her own independence.

It's also strange seeing as JJ had previously stated during The Force Awakens press tour that “I really feel that the assumption that any character needs to have inherited a certain number of midi-chlorians or needs to be part of a bloodline. It's not that I don't believe that as part of the canon, I'm just saying that at 11 years old that wasn't where my heart was. And so I respect and adhere to the canon but I also say that the Force has always seemed to me to be more inclusive and stronger than that.”

And there was still conflict for her to overcome. The one person who she felt truly understood her is now the supreme leader of the first order, will the resistance discover their connection? Will they see her as a traitor? All of this had the potential for great external and internal character conflict, but for some reason they didn't see this as conflict enough to sustain a whole movie?

Instead they gave Luke's character arc in the OT of having a dark side relative to Rey. “Discovering that you actually descended from your adoptive family’s greatest enemy, the same enemy who corrupted Anakin Skywalker and is responsible for the destruction of the Skywalker family in the first place, felt most devastating to us.” This doesn't make any sense to me as it feel like they just gave Rey Luke's internal conflict of being afraid of his dark side, I don't think this was ever a problem for Rey. In fact, in The Last Jedi she leapt into the dark side cave to face her darkness (her abandonment). Luke even says “You went straight to the dark and you didn't even try to stop yourself.”

The dark side cave in The Last Jedi was symbolic of Rey coming to terms with her darkness (the parts of herself she wants to hide). It relates back to Jungian psychology (which much of Star Wars is based on) that people can only become whole through understanding both the light and shadow aspects of their personality. So it doesn't make sense for Rey to be afraid of who she is in the final movie when she just finished a journey where she learned to accept who she was?

Rey Skywalker

Terrio says that the decision to have Rey take on the name “Skywalker” was a way to show that “you can choose your ancestry.” Which is not true and also a strange thing to say considering the trilogy started with this:

But even if this was just awkward phrasing and what Terrio meant to say was that she considers the Skywalkers her family. Does this make sense considering that she didn't have a great relationship with Luke to begin with?

I've seen it argued that she took the name as a way of honoring Leia but Leia never took the name or considered herself a Skywalker. Also this is another step backwards for Rey's character as The Last Jedi was trying to assert that Rey does not need to keep looking for parental figures to define herself.

So why must she be a Palpatine, a Skywalker and “all the jedi” anyways? I think this was done for two reasons, the first was because by killing Ben they were going to kill the last of the Skywalker family and they wanted to keep the name tied to the franchise, in case they need the characters for future projects down the line, so they just pushed it onto Rey. The second reason is that I think they were trying to appease the misogynists' who spent the last 4 years calling Rey a “Mary Sue” so they explained her power away through powerful male lineage. It just feels so weird to me, like the creators are saying that we should like Rey not because of who she is as a character but because of who she is in relation to all these other characters we know you like (Luke, Leia, all the jedi that use her as a vessel etc...)

Daisy Ridley has even expressed her frustration with the Rey's lineage debate multiple times, “I love that Rey is such a great character, they’re like: ‘No, no, she has to be… she has to be-’She’s her own person! Let her be her guys, let her live.

Yet even at the end of the final film poor Rey can't seem to catch a break as she's once again asked for her last name. She once again has to justify herself for just existing. Why are surnames suddenly so important in Star Wars now anyways? Shouldn't the correct answer be “just Rey,” now that she's come to accept who she is and where she's come from and shouldn't that be good enough? What happened to the message of anyone can be a hero? That you don't have to come from or align yourself with a powerful family legacy. That we all have the power to make a difference?

TROS seems to be constantly asking Rey to prove herself. And weirdly enough it reminds me in a strange meta way of my own experience being a woman in the fandom and being constantly asked to prove that I'm a “True fan” (whatever the f@#% that means...) to prove that I'm worthy of consuming and participating in this content that male fans feel belongs solely to them.

In Conclusion

So what did our heroine gain in the end? Did she find family and belonging? No. So what does she have in the end? A yellow lightsaber (for merchandising purposes) and a surname of a dead family? I guess she finally has an answer to give all the nosey nellies, obsessed with ones pedigree that have suddenly popped up all over the galaxy.

It's not a satisfying ending for her, as she's basically right back where she started. Alone, in a desolate desert, once again staring face to face at an old woman (an old woman which at the start of the Force Awakens symbolized her fear of growing old and wasting away her life on Jakku).

Terrio states that this is not meant to indicate that Rey plans to stay here, “The very last thing Rey would do after all that is to go and live alone in a desert.” but when that is the last shot you chose to end the movie on then what is the audience suppose to think? The bigger issue however, is that Rey's ending holds no significance to her or her journey. Terrio says that “In our thinking, Rey goes back to Tatooine as a pilgrimage in honor of her two Skywalker masters. Leia’s childhood home, Alderaan, no longer exists, but Luke’s childhood home, Tatooine, does. Rey brings the sabers there to honor the Skywalker twins by laying them to rest — together, finally — where it all began.” Tatooine, the Lars homestead and the twin suns, don't mean anything to Rey. You know who did mean something to Rey? Who was the one person who understood her, who she had an intimate relationship with, who she explicitly states she wanted to be with? Ben. But he's gone too. But clearly a light saber and surname are more important. Again this all comes from a lack of caring for what Rey wants.

I just wish that the Sequel Trilogy had stayed Rey's trilogy, that she got to be a heroine in her own right not because she was a skywalker, or a palpatine or from some other powerful family. I will always love Rey but I will always hate what they did to her and I'm tired of people invalidating my feelings and telling me that it was a good ending or that it was empowering. I just want heroines to be taken as seriously and to have all the same privileges as male heroes. Let them stand on their own without connecting them back to every male hero in the franchise, let them be their own character, and finally just let them be human, let them fall in love and have relationships if they want to. Male heroes are never considered to be less of a hero for having a love interest, so why are female heroes? Basically what I got out of the Rise of Skywalker, was that it was created by a couple of guys that loved Luke and the OT and could care less about Rey and that's truly heart breaking.

#rey #rey nobody #reylo #ben solo #rey deserved better #rey deserves better #bring ben solo back #I love rey #aTROSity #just rey #reunite the dyad

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most-datable-datable-bracket · 3 days

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QUARTER-FINALS MATCH 3

Claude propaganda:

"To say Claude has trust issues is an understatement—you have to spend half the game earning his. (Claude isn't even his real name!) Once you have it, though, he's absolutely ride or die for you until the stars go out. He is so full of heart and ambition: He wants both sides of his heritage to get along, he wants to open borders and eliminate xenophobia and promote equality between commonfolk, and deep down, I think he craves a partner to stand with him at that new dawn, or an equal who sees his vision for the future and will fight for it just as hard. Nobody believed in him when he was a kid, but if you put your faith in him, he'll return it tenfold. Some people don't like that he's calculating, or has to leave the player character at the end of the game to go back to his homeland, but both are necessary elements for his goals to change things. He will always come back, and everyone who bets against him and his love for his companions is wrong with a big fat W. #KhalidForMostDatablePrez"

"Claude is a fun little onion of facades. He calls himself the embodiment of distrust, he acts like he's carefree and without worries, an unscrupulous schemer--and so many in universe buy into that hook line and sinker. He's used to others viewing him with suspicion and uses it as armor to obscure his not-so-dark truth: that he cares immensely, that he values minimizing the loss of life, and that above all he has so much hope that people will fundamentally choose to do better given the choice.

His front guards a center that his conflict filled world would be happy to tear apart. As the child of people from two nations in constant conflict--one of which is explicitly isolationist and dehumanizes those outside its church's reach--he hasn't really had a place where he can be without his facade. As a child he thought he could run, but when confronted with the fact that this hatred existed no matter where he ran, he chose to instead try to create a more just and kind world.

His inability to let others in beyond his facade at first may lead to a sense of distance, but isn't it then all the more satisfying when you're allowed in? All he wants is a little trust, a little faith, and--like what he wants to give everyone--a chance to be better.

And like that you got a charming young lad with a fun personality that your grandma would be thrilled to have stay forever."

Milo propaganda:

“they were in the last contest sure but i feel like they could get farther. like they're literally a nonbinary grim reaper that's also an influencer and sure sometimes the influencer stuff can get kinda overwhelming i feel like it's very clear that they care about you and want to be around you. you guys go on a reaping date. their eyes and nail colour change based on their mood too and i think it's a really cute detail!! also SLIGHT SPOILERS but they even reference rocky horror in their special ending. they are perfect to me and i love them and i believe they deserve a second chance <3”

"Vote for Milo because they deserve it

They're literally so attractive

- They are a social media influencer

- They are obsessed with an adorable little kitty and will do everything in their power to make this cat the most beloved creature in existence

- They love makeovers and helping their friends rebrand (this includes working with Damien and the PC to help Jerry the Murderer rebrand so that they really has a brand identity)

- They are a grim reaper and even help the PC plan the PC's own funeral (special ending) and they give a great speech and it's super sweet

- They will sometimes take the PC on reaping jobs with them and shenanigans ensues

So in summation, vote for Milo because, as I repeat, they deserve it"

#claude von riegan #fire emblem #fire emblem: three houses #FE:3H #milo belladonna #Monster Prom #Monster Camp #Quarter-Finals #MDDC 2

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wordsnstuff · 4 years

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20 Mistakes To Avoid in Enemies To Lovers

PLEASE REBLOG | Tumblr suppresses posts with links :/

Patreon || Ko-Fi || Masterlist || Work In Progress

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Weak Conflict

There should always be a strong, compelling source of tension between two people who are considered enemies. Even if their rivalry stems from external sources, such as bad blood between families or competing for a number one spot, there should always be a concrete reason why they hate each other.

Not Explaining Forgiveness

When one of these conflicts subsides, or a tense moment resolves, it should be justified. Tension and emotions shouldn’t disappear because you’re trying to stuff romantic moments in here and there. If one of your characters crosses a line and the other character chooses to forgive them, there needs to be a clear and understandable reason. It doesn’t always have to sit well with the reader. Your character can make a blatantly stupid decision, but it needs to serve the plot.

No Tension To Be Found

If your characters have to verbally or physically assault each other to demonstrate the tension between them, you’re doing it wrong. If they have to kiss for the reader to see that they like each other, you’re doing it wrong. Tension is in the little things. It’s in the instances that most people would overlook, but your characters zero-in on because the subtext is too thick to gloss over. Tension is the most important plot device in enemies-to-lovers stories, so it requires a lot of time and attention to minute details.

Conflict Solved Too Easily

If the rivalry between your characters is one misstep after another, with immediate forgiveness following, the tension won’t build correctly. You’re working your way up to a boiling over moment. A moment where everything comes out and then, once resolved, makes way for the romantic feelings to enter. If the conflicts don’t slowly build on each other, that boiling moment will come out of nowhere and be less satisfying to read. Don’t let your characters off that easily. Enemies aren’t constantly letting things slide.

Characters Changing For One Another

People don’t need to be exactly the same to see attractive qualities in one another. It’s true that relationships shift your perspective and that it occasionally results in outward changes in behavior, but one or both characters shouldn’t mold their personality around their partner.

Stupid Potion

If one of your characters has to become oblivious or avoid critical thought to maintain a relationship with that character, you haven’t made the two characters compatible enough. This is especially true when one or both of your character’s identity revolves around a higher intelligence. They should have enough in common that there doesn’t have to be a giant shift in one or both personalities to work as a couple.

The Relationship Brings Them Down

The thing about enemies to lovers stories is that the happy endings are usually an indication of the author’s view of what is and is not forgivable in a potential partner. The acceptance of someone’s past mistakes, current flaws, and future struggles. When a love story ends with a couple that repeatedly lower each other or hurt each other, that sends a bad message, and that is your responsibility to avoid. It doesn’t need a happy ending, but it should never have a destructive one.

Writing Abuse Instead of Rivalry

There is a big difference between writing two equals who have a rivalry slowly falling in love and putting aside their differences, and writing an abusive, predatory love interest who repeatedly hurts, manipulates, and gaslights the main character. Just because you can imagine the character forgiving them doesn’t mean they’re a good partner. Cheating, physical abuse, isolation, passive aggression, and manipulation are not character flaws. They’re not “mistakes” that the character needs to forgive in order to save their relationship. It’s abuse, and when you write a story between an abuser and a victim that has a happy ending, that has consequences.

Revealing Feelings In A Cliché Way

This is very subjective, however, there are also a plethora of tropes to choose from and an infinite amount of alterations you can apply to make them your own. The objective, however, is to build up to it in a way that creates a satisfying payoff, and an interesting moment that serves all of the work you’ve done to build to it. There’s nothing worse than reading chapters and chapters of build up, anticipating a big moment where sparks fly, and then having all of that tension result in a sad sputter of mediocrity.

Instant Trust

Trust is difficult to build between two people, especially when they have a complicated past. Trust is earned, no matter who you are or what you’ve been through, it’s always a process. It’s never inherent. When two characters have a history of betrayal or hurt, trust is going to be even harder to develop between them, and that process is an opportunity for more tension, character development, conflict, and eventually a satisfying resolution. Trust development is a major plot device, and I recommend you take advantage of it. It’s also a huge opportunity for building romantic tension amongst the angst of trials and tribulations.

Why Do They Hate Each Other, Though?

There’s a thin line between love and hate, and that line is infatuation; obsession. So, what put the two of them on the bad side of that line? This reason is the main conflict. The overarching plot begins with the point where that rivalry either begins or is challenged after a long while of stagnation, and it ends with the two characters crossing over that line into love. You need to make that beginning point very clear.

Rivalry Shouldn’t Just Dissolve

There needs to be a transitionary period that is tense and awkward with scattered moments that make the effort worth it to both of them. There should be a “Well, we hated each other last week and then they did some really sweet things and now I’m not so sure. Maybe we’re starting to become friends now? I feel really excited when I see them, so I must not hate them anymore, right?” period.

Complete Opposites

Yes, opposites can attract. Yes, completely different people can fit together very well and have a happy relationship, but this is a cliché and is, in most cases, poorly thought out with little to no originality.

Love With No Reason

Just like your characters need a reason to hate each other, they need a reason to love each other. There has to be something that makes them work. Not just a common hobby or characteristic or exterior aspect they share, but something that makes them fit together. If they love each other because... they can, your reader will feel like they’re watching two stupid, lonely people tolerate each other’s flaws in the interest of sex or companionship for 100 pages.

No Actual Conflict Resolution

Relationships are built through conflict resolution. Communication, empathy, effort, and understanding between two people who work to make each other happy. Hollow forgiveness is not apart of that process, and if that’s all there is, you’re not developing a realistic relationship between compatible people, you’re depicting a toxic relationship that, in the case of these origins, can be abusive.

Underusing Sexual Tension

Sexual tension is great. It’s easy to develop, it has a satisfying payoff, and it doesn’t take up a lot of space on the pages. It doesn’t have to result in x-rated material, especially if you’re writing for a young adult audience, but it’s simple and effective.

No Awkward Transition Period

A large chunk of the plot should be awkward and uncomfortable to watch. The transition should be organic and make sense for your characters, but all organic movement contains struggle. Nobody goes from hating each other to loving each other overnight, and relationships are complicated and require hard work. Show this.

Catalogue Characters

There are enough stories out there with cardboard characters and self-insert protagonists, especially in romance. Make your protagonists unique and individual. Make your characters diverse and interesting to read about. Readers should have a bit of wiggle room for imagination, but that doesn’t mean they should be filling in the blanks like your characters are Mad Libs. Don’t close your eyes and point at character archetypes to form your cast. It’s obvious and lazy.

Stagnant Tone

The tone of these stories often falls flat because in the interest of building tension, writers ignore purposeful tone shifting, scene-to-scene. Change it up, make it potent, and make a lasting impact during important moments. Suspense and anticipation shouldn’t just build during the climax and resolution.

Bad Pacing

When your readers spend hours reading a story that promises a romantic payoff, they expect to see some of it. I think that a three act structure is really effective with this type of arc, with the first third being devoted to building rival tensions, the middle third being the shift from rivals to friends, and the last third building that romantic tension and ending with a happy resolution.

–

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elizabeethan · 3 years

Text

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

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