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doe-s-labyrinth · 5 years

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Noche Estrellada

Noche Estrellada | Javier x F!Latino!Reader | Oneshot

This fic is all thanks to @curlyfriesworld - I hope you like it, and I’m sorry it took so long!

Warnings: Fluff, slight angst, racial slur, smut

Word Count: 7,355

Note: You can avoid the smut - the beginning and end of it is marked by ‘#’.

I also apologize for any misuse of the Spanish language - I mostly used google translate so I’m sorry if it's butchered.

The sun rays shone down on your face, the curtains that framed your window blowing in the slight breeze. A soft, sleepy murmur left your lips as you were slowly awakened from your sleep. The soft playing of a guitar stirred you awake, your eyelids slowly opening before quickly closing again from the harsh light of the sun. A grunt of harmless malice left your lips as you sat up, stray hairs falling in your face as your arms moved to stretch.

Elegant fingers moved upwards to brush the stray hairs out of your face as you moved to stand, your nightgown that covered your body was wrinkled from your sleep. Your eyes moved to the window as you listened to the music - its sound was clearer now that you’d shaken some of the remnants of your slumber. The soft playing sounded familiar, but you couldn’t pinpoint its location as you peaked out from your window, gazing out at the many fields of the farm you lived on.

You figured it was one of the ranch hands on their break despite it being, at the very least 8am. The music calmed your morning as you moved to get ready - washing your face and brushing your dark hair back before finally dressing into something more appropriate than your nightgown.

“Hun, are you up?” You heard your mother’s voice call for you as you finished pulling on a pair of socks. You were quick to leave your room and walk down the stairs to greet her,

“Yes, mama.” You greeted her kindly. The American woman shot you a smile, her thin blonde hair was tied back in a messy bun as she worked over the stove, cooking breakfast.

“Ah - that smells divine, mi amor.” The voice of your father chimed as he walked into the kitchen,

“How’s the foal?” Your mother asked your father - one of the mares and given birth the night before, and your father had been busy taking care of the duo.

“He’s a fiery little stud.” The Spanish man chided, “reminds me of someone we know.” He teased as his gaze flicked to you for a second before ruffling your hair, taking his seat at the end of the table. “We had another visitor last night,” He started as your mother laid a plate of bacon and eggs in front of him. He thanked her with a kiss before beginning to dig into his breakfast.

“Oh really? Was it the salesman from before? You told him that we’re not selling the farm didn’t you?” Your mother asked as she put a plate down before you, you thanked her with a nod before eating a mouthful of the food. Your father shook his head as he chewed before answering her question,

“No no - it was the Escuella boy, Javier.” Your father chided as he ate his food. Your head instantly raised at his words - swallowing your barely chewed mouthful before listening in completely, “Asked if he could help out for a week or two.”

“I haven’t seen him in years.” Your mother’s voice held a tone surprise at the mention of the man, but you were eager to know more,

“Did you say yes?” Your words were rushed, catching your father off guard for a second as his gaze moved to you. You realized how eager you must have looked and pulled your excitement back in for a second, clearing your throat and straight in your seat.

“I couldn’t see why not,” Your father said after swallowing another mouthful of his breakfast, “He’s camped up in the barn right now.” You stood abruptly at his words, catching your parents attention as they stared at you with confused eyes.

“Excuse me for a minute, Mama, Papa.” You quickly apologized for your rudeness but quickly rushed out the door before they could say anything more.

Your actions even surprised you - but like your mother said, it had been years since you’d last seen the man you were currently accommodating. The sound of the guitar reached your ears once more as you headed towards the barn, passing and briefly greeting the farmhands as you walked by. Many of them watched after you, curious to see the cause of your hurry as you walked into the barn.

The music was much louder now and you could hear the man’s quiet humming from the floor above you. You tried peaking at him from where you stood, but he was hidden behind the many bales of hay. You bit your lip as you moved over to the ladder - your heartbeat was noticeably quicker as you climbed.

The Hispanic man slowly came into view as you climbed, his gaze was concentrated on his guitar as he played. He was comfortably leaned back against one of the hay bales, his legs crossed and a cigarette hanging from his lips. You admired him for a moment - your breath absently catching in your throat as you stared at your old friend.

He was older now - and life had definitely been kind with his looks. His slight stubble and the facial hair he’d let grow framed his lips - the smoke that silently raised from his cigar fit his aesthetic pleasingly. His sense of style hadn’t changed - his clothes giving him a sophisticated yet charming air, and the way his piercing brown eyes lit up when they met yours caused your heart to melt.

“Erizo?” His nickname for you caused a flurry of nostalgic memories to enter your mind. The cigarette fell from his lips in surprise, and his playing had immediately ceased. He stamped the lit end out quickly - and you had to stop the tears the brimming from falling at the sight of him.

“Javier,” Your voice was soft and gentle - a sheer contrast to your usual wildfire self. You made quick work of the rest of the steps as Javier raised to his feet, resting his guitar against the hay bales before turning back to you and engulfing you in a tight, friendly hug.

It only lasted a few seconds, but you hugged him back just as warmly, even his smell was nostalgic - and you could have sworn it was the same Javier you’d met almost eight years ago if it weren’t for the strong smell of smoke that mixed in with his usual spiced aroma.

“Erizo - you’ve grown so much.” His words were laced with fondness as he pulled back, his hands staying on your shoulders as he took a good look at you, “and my - you've become a real chica.” He seemed almost shocked, and if it were any other time then you would have playfully hit him and called him an idiot, but you were still starstruck that he was back.

“And you - if it weren’t for all those scars then I’d think you were a real pedazo.” You couldn’t help but joke, causing Javier to break out into a joyful smile,

“You haven’t changed a bit have you, amiga?” He teased, his arms crossing over his chest. You couldn’t help but shake your head in response, your hair moving with your gesture as a happy smile painted your lips. Silence captured the air for a moment, and the two of you stared at one another - it was more comfortable than awkward - until one of the ranch hands climbed up the ladder and ruined your little moment,

“Oh - uh,” Your eyes met Thomas’, missing the piercing look that Javier had shot the poor boy’s way, “I’m sorry Miss - I just had to grab a bale for the horses, I swear it, Miss Arias.” He reasoned quickly, a slight blush on his cheeks as he moved to throw one of the bales down to the ground floor,

“No worries, Thomas.” You forgave him kindly, your eyes flicking back to meet Javier’s who’s gaze instantly softened. “We should really get to... Yeah...” You didn’t want to get to work yet - you wanted to sit and chat with him all day - you both had a lot of catching up to do after all, and you couldn’t help but be curious about the scars that littered him.

“It's alright, Erizo.” He was understanding, agreeing that he should probably get to work too if your father was to let him stay. “I’ll see you soon, Chica.” He winked, causing your tanned cheeks to heat up slightly. You quickly turned away, offering your own quiet goodbye before moving to climb back down the ladder and get started with your day.

“So who is he, exactly?” You overheard one of the ranch hands talk from where you sat milking one of the cow’s. Your head raised in curiosity, peaking over the gate to see two men leaning on the fence of the horse’s field.

“I heard he was chased from Mexico.” One of them mused, another man walked over and chipped into their conversation, “Heard he was associatin’ with some bad people.”

“Isn’t he apart of the Van Der Linde gang? I swear I’ve seen his face plastered all over the West.” The newest member of their conversation said, his words muttered with an edge of dislike.

“Really? Is it safe to have him ‘ere?” The red-haired one spoke, “What if he’s here to scope out the place? Could be trynna steal from Mr. Arias.”

“He wouldn’t dare it - that man saved his life, he did.” A slightly chubbier, bearded American spat - “The boy was dying on the side of the road and Arias took ‘im in an’ he fixed ‘im up.”

Your spine relaxed and your hands rested in your lap as you eavesdropped on their conversation. You already knew that Javier wasn’t apart of the best of crowds - your father knew too, but he would trust Javier with his life. The two had a close friendship ever since that night eight years ago.

You remembered it like it was yesterday - your father had come home carrying the body of a dying Hispanic boy who was covered blood. It was during one of the worst storms of the century, and they were both soaking when your father had placed him on the couch and your mother had rushed to attend his wounds. Why your father had helped him that night you didn’t exactly know, but he’d said it was like a sign. Javier had stumbled out of the woods and landed face first on the street in front of your father - bloodied and beaten and on the verge of death itself.

Javier had recovered fairly quickly - but he stuck around for a while after the incident. He owed your father his life after all, and Javier had little means to apologize apart from working for him whenever he could. The two of you had become extremely close friends in the time you had spent together. You had to change his bandages after all, and with no one else to speak to apart from your parents and the ranch hands, it was nice to have a new person around.

He’d told your father that he’d been jumped by a gang - but you weren’t stupid. The way he’d struggled to come up with a reason was evidence enough, and your sure that your father didn’t believe him either, but he didn’t bother to question him.

Javier had told you the truth one night when the two of you were sharing stories in the barn. Your endless questioning had gotten him to spill his guts - and he’d told you in a way that you were sure was meant to make you scared of him.

“I travel with gangs. I murder people out of spite and steal from the weak. One of the rival gangs found my camp one night and jumped me. I should have been dead.” His cold gaze pierced your curious orbs. He was expecting you to be frightened - to run away and tell your father of the bad man you were keeping. But you stayed, sitting on your knees before him with wide, innocent eyes.

“You’re not all bad, Javier...” You said quietly, the boy before you envied your innocent bliss. His gaze softened on you, his head tilting to one side as his eyes that had seen so much bloodshed and loss gazed into your pure irises.

“We strive for good. We want to change the world for the better, but...” He started once he’d realized that he wouldn’t be able to scare you away that easily, “If we have to fight, we fight. If we have to run, we’ll run, if we must die, we’ll die, but...” he trailed off, his eyes moving to look at the full moon. The large open window of the barn’s second floor gave a pleasant view of the moon above the mountain treetops,

“We’ll always be free.”

His words had held so much sincerity and sentiment that they’d stayed with you ever since. You could never shake the look he held as the moon shined on his face - it had touched your heart, but also made you realize just how much you didn’t know about him - and how much you might never know about him.

But he’d suddenly left one night a few months after his arrival before you ever got the chance to know. There was no note or goodbye - just a pile of money left on the dining table and a missing horse the next morning. His departure had saddened you, but now he was back, and you were eager to get to know him all over again.

The men soon walked away, carrying on with their conversation as they left. But it had made you think - just what exactly had Javier gotten up to in the time you’d been apart? Eight years was a long time - but you couldn’t help but feel a part of you feel whole again with his presence in your life. He seemed exactly the same with the brief reunion you’d had - more mature maybe, but he was still the Javier you knew, right?

Your eyes caught sight of the glow of a campfire from your room that night. Peaking out from your window, you saw the many ranch hands sat around the open blaze - it must have been that time of week again. They usually had one night of relaxation where they all caught up with each other and let loose for a little while. You’d sometimes join them, and with the chance of Javier being amongst them, you quickly rushed out to join them.

Your mother watched you speed out with a few confused blinks as she processed your eager air. She’d never seen you so quick to join them around the fire, but she didn’t question it as she returned to reading her book.

You were quick to join the men, their loud chatter could be heard from up to a mile away, but you didn’t mind it. You spotted Javier laughing with another man from where he sat on an upturned box, smoke in his hand and a beer beside his feet.

His eyes instantly met yours as you neared, they softened slightly yet still held an air of question. You only offered him a friendly smile as you took a seat on the end of a log, Thomas sat beside you and greeted you quietly as you listened to their ongoing conversation,

“I swear to god it was the size of a boat!” One of the already drunk men boasted, “It had to be the legendary bear - I swear it!” He was adamant, his arms wide open to try and convince them of the bear’s size, “Look, he even did this to me!” A chubby finger pointed at the large scar that ran down his face. A few of the men made a few comments, ‘it couldn’t’ve been that big’, ‘how’d you get away?’, ‘liar.’ But the man just waved them off before taking a large swig of his beer.

Another man spoke up to tell his tale after the drunkard had finished. The new story was about how he’d ended up at the farm, running from some gang until your family had offered him work and a place to lay low for a while.

Javier’s gaze subtly flicked to you as you listened to the man’s tale. The flickering of the fire reflected in your orbs only caught his admiration as he really looked at you - you’d really grown into yourself in his absence, and you’d become just as beautiful as your mother with her spirit and your father’s flare.

Your eyes caught his after a few minutes, and he shot you his personal charming smile which you gladly returned with a kind one of your own. Both of your eyes lingered for a few moments, undisturbed until Thomas tapped your arm and asked you how your day had been.

But Javier’s gaze on you lingered for a few moments more.

“(y/n),” The familiar rough voice met your ears. You had to suppress the sigh from leaving your lips as you turned from where you stood, leaned against the fence. Your eyes strayed from the newborn foal to the burly American man who wasn’t much older than you.

“Good evening, Mr. Grace.” Your body was stiff as you faced him, your eyes meeting his - his green orbs squinted from the sunlight, his slight crow's feet showing. He was quite a bit taller than you with a large but muscular build, his sleeves rolled up to reveal his protruding biceps. Your eyes trailed his sharp jawline, up to his freshly cut hair that had been messed up after a day of work.

“How many times have I told you? Its just James.” His words had an edge of a command, contradicting the charmingly kind smile that lay on his thin lips. You swallowed thickly at his words, your back pressing against the fence as he took a step closer,

“How about we go to the theatre in Saint Denis together? I hear the magician is amazing.” James moved to lean against the fence beside you, your eyes followed him. You couldn’t lie - James was quite an attractive man who usually had no trouble with women, but his personality could be quite vile.

“Saint Denis is a five day trip from here, and you know I have to work.” Your excuses were valid - yet the click of his tongue made them feel weak. He leaned over you, his head tilting slightly, “Your game of hard to get is overdone, Princess.” His words were low and laced with an underlying threat.

Your teeth clenched, a frown appearing on your soft lips as your hand reached out, pushing him away as you stepped back, “Hard to get? I’m not interested, Mr. Grace.” You spat, eyebrows furrowed in disgust.

“Oh don’t lie to me.” He growled, face contorted to reveal his rising anger, “Its that new greaser isn’t it? I’ve heard about your past with him,” the slur felt like a stab in the heart, but James carried on, “it doesn’t matter if you’re used, hun. I’d still work you.” His true colors revealed themselves to be dark and murky.

You stared him down, lips slightly parted in utter disgust. A snide smile spread across his lips as he stared you down, your head shook and your jaw clenched, and before you knew it - you were slapping the larger man across the face.

Your hand stung and tears burned at your eyes as you turned away, walking quickly to get away from the vile brute. James stared after you for a moment, expression dark as his head to spit into the grass, muttering curses under his breath as he moved to return to his work.

The Hispanic man smirked from where he sat in his little nook in the barn, his eyes still following the man who had disgraced you. He sat, mind burning with possible ways to make the brute pay for his actions, his knife chipping away at a wood block in his hand.

“How are you doing today, Bonita?” Javier called out to you, making his way towards you from across the field. You couldn’t help but smile at his words, your eyebrows furrowing slightly despite the remnants of a blush on your cheeks.

“Another day, another chore.” You said, holding the bucket of feed in your arms slightly higher, “how are you, Javi?” Javier’s smile only grew at your use of a nickname. He reached out and took the bucket of feed from you, walking alongside you as you headed towards the chicken coop,

“Much better now that you’re awake, Chica.” His smooth words surprised you - yet your heart beat picked up at his flirt. You didn’t quite know how to respond as you approached the coop, taking the feed off of Javier and tossing it on the ground for the chickens to eat.

“You’re in a nice mood today,” You commented, but you weren’t complaining by any means as you put the bucket down and faced the man, “Estas enfermo?” you asked, reaching out to feel his forehead and make sure he was feeling well, but his hand caught yours and intertwined your fingers. He shot you a wink before speaking,

“If I say no, will you be the one to take care of me?” He teased, causing you to roll your eyes and remove your hand from his. He laughed at your actions, and the pleasant sound was like music to your ears as you watched him, your cheeks a sheer red against your tanned skin and a smile tugged its way at your lips.

“Javier, come help me with this, amigo!” The voice of your father boomed, Javier’s head flicked to meet the sight of him.

“I’ll see you soon, Chica.” Javier gave his short farewell, sending you a wink before he walked off to meet your father, leaving you standing next to the chicken coop with red cheeks and an erratic heartbeat.

Javier’s compliments and pet names carried on for the next few days, causing your heart to beat out of your chest with each sweet thing he said to you. He had truly dampened your usual wild flames with his endless flirting, and you would argue, but you loved every moment of it.

You wouldn’t deny that your feelings for Javier had often been more than friendship - you’d even thought that he’d felt the same for a brief time before his disappearance all those years ago. Yet you had no idea if he was just playing with you or if he was serious.

Your mind was filled with him as you stared out at the horses, sitting on the fence in thought with your legs swinging. Your eyes caught sight of James talking to two other men - pointing towards the cows and yelling at them for something or other. His head turned, and his eyes met yours for only a second - but that was all you needed to see the new addition to his looks.

Your breath caught and you couldn’t help but stare at the large cut along his face - it looks deep, and the stitches were obvious even from your distance. Your lips parted in shock as you stared - but James didn’t hold your gaze, quickly looking away as soon as he’d seen you. It was odd for him - he’d usually stare until it made you uncomfortable, but now he seemed quick to try and get away from even the sight of you. You knew it was bad - but your lips couldn’t help but slyly smirk at the damage he had suffered, karma had certainly caught up to the vile man.

“Bella Dama,” The Spanish words reached your ears, causing you to turn to the speaker with a soft smile. Javier met your kind eyes with infectious joy, causing your heart to race.

“Javier, how are you?” You asked, moving off the fence as he neared. You gazed up at the slim yet muscular man who looked as dashing as ever, adorned with his signature charming smile.

“Amazing, now that I’m with you.” Your eyes flickered away from his for a moment and your mind urged for your cheeks not to blush and reveal your feelings. “I’m about to go fishing actually, you should join me.” His gaze stayed on you as he waited for an answer, and suddenly you felt like a shy little school girl.

“Um - of course, Javier, I’d love to.” You were quick to reply as you smiled up at your old friend - the two of you had barely spent any time together since he’d come back, an evening together was honestly a dream.

He was quick to lead you to his horse, adamant that you rode on Boaz with him instead of taking your own girl for the ride. He helped you onto the back of his horse despite you not needing it, but you couldn’t deny his gentlemanly actions, and holding onto his waist as your rode was quite nice. You could smell his cologne mixed in with his natural scent as you rode, your cheeks blushing as you tried to admire your surroundings and take your mind off the other Spaniard you were currently clinging onto.

“It's a nice little spot - it's not too much further.” He assured you, Boaz’s gentle trotting had begun to lull you into a gentle sleep, but you quickly awoke to Javier’s words.

“It's beautiful up here.” You whispered, your voice quieter than intended, but Javier heard you all the same. He smiled to himself and agreed with you as you gazed out at the view. The two of you had been riding higher into the mountains - it was slightly colder up here, but the snow was still a good few hours of travel away. You couldn’t pull your eyes away from the clear view of New Hanover. Javier rode into a forested area, the trees became slightly thicker but opened up to reveal a beautifully hidden creek. The view was still amazing, and you didn’t want to look away, but you had to as Boaz came to a stop and Javier moved to get off. His arms reached up for you, and with a small laugh, you accepted his help.

He allowed Boaz to freely graze on the fresh grass as he led you to a nice spot on the creek, two fishing rods in his hands. “Beautiful,” He mused, you agreed wholeheartedly as you took one of the fishing rods from him, his gaze staying on you before flicking behind you, “The view is too.”

Your eyes rolled playfully at his comment, “Idiota.” You hushed, causing Javier to send you a side-eyed smirk. You moved away from him.

You placed some cheese on the end of your line as Javier cast his out, you followed suit, your head tilting slightly at the water.

“There’s some great smallmouth here,” Javier said, already catching a bite. Your lips pouted as your eyes watched him reel the bass in easily. You hadn’t even felt a tug on your line - but you barely knew what to do even when a fish caught on. You’d only been fishing once with your father, and that was a good ten years ago now.

“I’m no good at this.” You murmured, Javier’s eyes flicked over to you from where he stood,

“Is it your bait?” He asked, and you shook your head, your cheeks heating up in slight embarrassment.

“I don’t think so...” You trailed off - it wasn’t like you to admit defeat or ask for help, Javier knew this. Your gaze turned determined as you watched where your line lay in the water. You didn’t notice as Javier reeled his line in, placing his rod on the ground before walking up behind you. His back pressed against your chest caused your breath to catch. Your heart skipped a beat as his hands reached out and took yours, bringing the rod closer to your body.

“You should have said something.” You could hear the smirk in his voice as his larger hands moved yours, reeling in your line. You didn’t say anything, your eyes flicking focus on a tree before his hands left yours. He fished something out of his pocket, your hands suddenly feeling cold with the absence of his. He took hold of your line, putting the small body of a cricket onto your hook,

“Crickets?” You asked, your eyes meeting his for a brief moment until he returned to his place behind you,

“Their the best bait for the bass in this creek.” His wise words spoke into your ear, his warm breath hitting your earlobe caused you to shiver. A ghost of a smirk graced Javier’s lips as his hands found yours once more. His chest pressed against your back as he easily maneuvered your body as if you were a rag doll, and your mind went blank as he moved your arms, turning your waist slightly before hoisting the line into the creek. He’d been explaining his moves, telling you the trick to the trade, but his words had gone through one ear and out the other, your mind concentrating on nothing but how close the two of you were.

“And now we wait,” His eyes stayed on the line, his grip on your hands loosened and they absently dropped to your waist, “Keep your body still.” His voice was hushed, his dark eyes moving to your face. Your head turned slightly, slowly, your eyes meeting his. Your faces were close - extremely close, and you couldn’t help but glance down at his perfect lips, Javier’s eyes watched yours before doing the same. You could feel yourself slowly leaning in, Javier stayed still as your eyelids drooped, almost closed.

The line violently jerked, catching your attention - Javier quickly took action, his hands moving to yours once more as he helped you reel the fish in,

“Let him tire himself out,” He said, but you weren’t listening, your hands limp on the rod as he moved them. Your cheeks were a deep red as your mind played over the scene that had just happened. “Alright - now reel him in.” He said once the fish had stopped struggling, you followed his words in a fluster - embarrassment fuelling your actions.

“Nice catch!” Javier cheered as he helped you pull the fish out of the water, it was quite a large bass, causing the embarrassment you had felt to quickly disappear. A wide smile replaced the slight frown on your lips as you stared at the catch, pulling it onto the rock you were stood on. Javier moved away from you, unhooking the fish and holding it up, “Well done, Chica.” He smiled at you proudly,

“It was mostly you-” You started, but he shook his head, the smile staying on his lips as he gazed at you,

“But you’ll be a fishing champ in no time.” His supportive words warmed your heart, his eyes moved to the view behind you, and you followed his gaze to see the sun beginning its descent into the sky.

“We should set up camp, these will make a lovely dinner.”

You’d helped Javier set up camp, and he’d quickly built a fire. You’d sat together talking about the years you’d missed one another as you watched the setting sun. Javier had shown you how to get all the good meat off the bass you’d caught before cooking it over the open flames. It had actually tasted amazing after Javier added some spices onto the otherwise bland meal, and you couldn’t help but admire his knowledge of survival.

The fire still roared as you sat on your bedroll, gazing up at the stars that now plagued the sky in a beautiful array of colors. Your eyes moved to Javier who sat on his own bedroll beside you, his guitar in his arms as his fingers silently strummed at the different strings before moving up to tune them. You held his spare poncho closer to you - he’d insisted you wear it after he’d seen you shivering, and it was the most comforting thing you’d ever worn. It smelled of him, and you couldn’t help but hold it close as you watched him.

The cigarette burned at his lips as he inhaled the smoke, taking one last puff before flicking the stub away. His eyes flicked to you briefly as he strummed at the strings, and your heart practically melted at the sound of his voice,

“Besame,

Besame mucho

Como si fuera ésta noche

La última vez.”

His eyes stayed on his guitar as he sang, briefly flickering up to see your face. You couldn’t help but smile, your heart felt like it was exploding for this man.

“Besame, besame mucho

Que tengo miedo a perderte

Perderte después.”

You had to wipe at the tears brimming your eyelids as he sang - his voice was so beautiful, and you couldn’t help but giggle at the way he spoke the lyrics, slightly exaggerated but still sincere. He sang perfectly until about halfway through the song when he couldn’t help but giggle, the goofy smile on his lips only caused yours to widen.

His hands stopped playing and his head raised, his eyes moving to meet yours. The goofy smile stayed, and his eyes moved to the ground briefly. He felt slightly embarrassed - or vulnerable, he wasn’t quite sure, but he had practically placed his feelings on a silver platter for you to do as you wished with.

“Javier-” You started but didn’t quite know what to say. Your heart was so touched - fluttering to a point that it almost hurt. Your chest swelled and your lips smiled the widest they ever had before. His eyes met yours once more, admiring how the flames of the fire flickered in their reflection. Your hand reached out and took one of his, holding onto his loosely as his other moved to put the guitar on the floor.

His lips formed a thin line as his eyes gazed into yours in a searching manner, his hand squeezed yours as he sucked in his lips for a second,

“I understand if you don’t feel the same-” He started, his eyes didn’t meet yours until you shook your head,

“No, Javier- I-” You didn’t know how to explain it, so before your thoughts could talk you out of it, you leaned forward, cupping cheek with your free hand and pulled him to meet your lips. Neither of you moved for a second, and your heart stopped beating for just a moment until he got over his shock and started to kiss you back. The kiss was slow and gentle - his hand squeezed yours before he released it and moved closer.

You broke the kiss, Javier leaning in slightly, immediately missing the feeling. You caught your breath, your heart practically exploding in your chest as your eyes locked once more. Your parted lips formed a smile as you gazed at him, and his eyes looked just as lovesick in the light of the fire.

“Mi amor,” Javier whispered, moving off his bedroll and onto yours. You watched his movements as his head blocked out the moon. He looked like a painting amongst the stars as you innocently blinked up at the man who held your heart,

He didn’t have to finish his sentence before you silently nodding, words of sincerity and pure love leaving your lips - a silent promise that you could never break,

“I’m yours.”

Javier didn’t need any more convincing, he leaned down to your level, your eyes flickering to his lips once more as he returned your words,

“And I’m forever yours, mi mundo.”

His lips met yours in another gentle kiss, under the bright stars of that gorgeous night.

Your legs parted and made room for him as he crawled over you, leaning you down onto your bedroll. Your head hit your makeshift pillow - a folded pair of pants. Javier’s tongue slipped past your lips, grazing yours as you moved into his touch. Your thighs tightened around him as his tongue played with yours, his hands finding yours. His fingers interlocked with your own as he moved them above your head, pinning them to the bed.

His skilled tongue played with your own, causing you to moan into his mouth, a small smirk tugged at his lips, but he didn’t let it ruin the fun. His pants unintentionally ground against you from both your movements, causing your legs to wrap around him tighter. Javier noticed and couldn’t help but push his hips against yours, causing you to squeak in delight.

His smiling was getting out of hand - so he instead moved his lips to place butterfly kisses in a trail leading down your jawline and to your neck where he stopped and kissed slightly harder at the skin,

“Javi-” The nickname left your lips in a gasp and you could feel his lips twitch on your neck, his hands gripped at your wrists and his hips moved against yours even harder. Another gasp left your lips at the feeling of his hardness - you could feel him even through his pants. His own breath was slightly labored against you, only heightening the pleasure that coursed through you.

He attacked your neck with kisses, finding the most sensitive skin based on your breathless moans and nipping at it, repeatedly sucking at the skin and marking you as his. His hips ground harder against your growing wetness.

He pulled away suddenly, leaving you to groan in frustration at the sudden stop of pleasure. He stared down at you with loving eyes, yet a slight seriousness invaded his otherwise lust filled air,

“Are you sure about this, Chica?” He asked, “It's not too quick?” his voice was husky and filled with concern despite his want for you. Your heart yearned for him - he wanted this to be special for you, he didn’t want to rush you or make you feel like you had to go through with it for him.

Your head slowly shook as you sat up, your eyes gazing up at him from where he sat on his knees.

“I’m more than sure, Javier.” You spoke his name so softly, it caused his heart to yell for you. Your hands tugged at his poncho and you pulled him down on top of you once more, your lips meeting his in a much more passionate kiss.

Javier, now completely sure of your desires, moved quickly to unbutton your clothes. Your own hands tugged at his poncho and shirt, and he was more than eager to help you removed them. You gasped at the sight of his shirtless torso - scars littered his tan skin, but you didn’t care one bit as you pulled him to you once more and met him with another lust-filled kiss. Your hands explored his body as he undressed you, his own hands moving up your now naked stomach and up to your plump breasts.

His mouth left yours, littering kisses down your body until he reached the middle of your chest, his eyes flicking to yours briefly as his fingers started to play with your nipples. You gasped as you felt his warm mouth surrounding your left nub, his tongue sparing no time in playing with your hardened skin, causing your legs to squeeze around him and your lips to let out a flurry of gasps.

He treated the other one slightly rougher, gently grazing his teeth over your nipple before leaving a multitude of love bites all over your chest.

He kissed down your abdomen slowly, teasing your impatience before he reached your clothed legs. He wasted no time in taking your pants off, revealing your womanhood. He gazed at you with hunger, his hands hooked under your thighs as he dragged your body closer to his, lifting your knees to rest on his shoulders.

You had no time to think before his lips were kissing at your entrance, his tongue swirling over your slit before focusing on your clit. The bud of nerves sent a wave of pleasure through you, and you had to lay your head back against the bedroll to keep yourself grounded as his skilled tongue pleasured you. He flicked over your bud, swirling his tongue around it before ravaging it with a flurry of movement, causing you to squirm, gasp and moan in his grip. On the verge of your orgasm, he stopped, causing a groan of frustration to leave your lips, your legs squeezing at him, urging him to continue.

Javier shook his head in amusement, “Soon, amor.” he whispered, placing you back down on the bedroll before he moved to take his pants off. Your head raised to see him, and you gasped at the size of his member. It was longer than you had expected - not that you had really thought about it much, and his girth was just right. You mouth salivated at the sight of him, and your holes screamed with want.

Javier smirked down at you, quite cocky now that he was in possession of the thing you wanted - but he wouldn’t tease you - not today when you were both on the brink of losing it. All you wanted was to feel him inside of you - and he wanted nothing more than the two of you two to be connected - mind, bodies, and souls.

His hands hooked around your thighs once more, pulling you closer to his hardened length. Your eyes moved to his as he moved to lean over you once more. Your legs raised to loosely wrap around him, your torso raised, supported by your elbows against the bedroll. One of his hands placed itself on the bedroll, his other moving to the small of your back, his eyes never leaving yours as you both delved into the movement.

His member pressed against your entrance, and your hand raised up, holding his head as you brought him to you, your lips kissing his softly just as he pushed into you. His length parted your lips with ease - easily pushing into you with the amount he’d worked you up before. Your teeth bit at his lip as you let out a gasp of a moan, Javier grunted as your walls tightened around him.

He pushed the entirety of his length in before beginning a short rhythm - drawing out every moment of your time together. Your fingers moved through his hair, tightening your hold on it as he pushed further into you, his hips meeting yours in an experienced thrust. Your lips parted in pleasure as he moved into you, his own lips moving to kiss at your neck once more, going over the sensitive love bites he’d left.

Once you were used to his size, he lay you down and began to move his hips quicker, his mouth kissing at your chest as you moaned, your hands tugging at his hair. Your hips bucked to meet his thrusts and you could feel the heat building in your stomach - the body heat between you warding off the cold night air as the passion rose.

Javier grunted your name, quiet, audible moans leaving his lips compared to yours that filled the night air. His thrusting staggered and the heat built until neither of you could take it anymore. Your hold on him tightened and you hugged his body close as you came, his own climax meeting yours as he let his seed fill your insides, the twitching of his member only sending your senses into overdrive.

You gasped for your breath as the passion died down, Javier’s lips still softly kissing at your skin. Your fingers in his hair loosened their grip, a loving smile adorning your features as his head raised and his eyes met yours. He returned your love as he leaned closer, his lips meeting yours in another soft kiss.

“Te amo,” the words left his lips before he could stop himself, but in the heated moment, you felt just the same,

“Te amo.”

#rdr2 #rdr x reader #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption #javier #javier escuella #javier escuella x reader #smut #javier escuella smut #fluff

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ramheavenandhell · 5 years

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The Lines Between Ricks And Mortys – Chapter 2: Is that a Morty? / Am I interrupting something?

AN: This chapter we're finally getting into our first Morty battles. I'm not really good at writing action scenes so I apologize in advance and won't be angry if you just decide to skip those parts ^^' Warning: violence (aka Morty battles), minor character death, Rick/Rick (Lab Rick / Surgeon Rick) smut (rimming, fingering, anal)

The Lines Between Ricks And Mortys – Chapter 2: Is that a Morty? / Am I interrupting something? "Oh man, Rick. I'm still not sure about this whole "catching Mortys" stuff…" The C-137 duo was walking over the plaza, their current goal the centrum where the portal was located. Rick had just miraculously finished building an injector, some manipulator chips and some other random stuff that he thought useful from the junk that Morty had found around the place for him. Obviously, he would let Morty dig through the trash to find that stuff for him – that was the work of an assistant and not the work of a genius scientist after all. "Morty, just go and look around on the streets and inside trashcans and bring me whatever is useful enough to build something with." Rick had said. "What?! How am I supposed to know what you regards as "useful"? For all I know, you're just gonna complain that I brought you junk when I'm done." Morty wouldn't complain about such a task no matter how dirty it was, but what he wouldn't stand up for was digging for hours through trash bins for Rick when he didn't even know what he was supposed to be looking for. "Jeez, Morty! Learn to think for yourself for a bit!" His grandfather was immediately frustrated with him again. "I'm not asking you to bring me some leftover food or dirty paper dishes, but some spare parts. Wires or anything that is metallic – heck, even—even some alien bacteria would be useful." So, that's what Morty tried to look for – working better when he was given directions to follow anyways – and picked up empty cans and whatever else fit the description of what he was supposed to look for. While Morty had been trash hunting, Rick had been taking a look at Salesman Rick's manipulator chips, having a hard time convincing the man to at least just show him the goods even when he knew that he wasn't allowed to buy them yet – not that C-137 was even too fond about venturing into the guy's shop. Long story short: Rick got a glimpse of those chips and was able to build a few himself with the trash that Morty was able to find – it was really fascinating what some people threw away… "I mean, if these Mortys are lost in those dimensions shouldn't we actually help them instead?" Morty finished voicing his current moral troubles about the Ricks' newest pastime. He had been actually starting to think about this whole "Pocket Morty Game" thing – the fact that Ricks and aliens were capturing Mortys (altering their minds with manipulator chips) and then forcing them to fight against each other just for entertainment – and it didn't sit well with him. "Morty, by catching them we're helping those Mortys. I mean, think what would happen to them if we just keep letting them wandering around. They might starve or another Rick could catch them and might do unthinkable things to them. Think about that mystery Rick who kidnapped you. What do you think he might do to those Mortys if he catches them, hm?" Rick interjected. The number of Rick guards was slowly increasing the more they proceeded, which meant that they must be getting closer to the communal portal – not that you would not be able to find it with all the signs pointing in its direction along the way. "I-I guess you're right, Rick." Morty mumbled as memories of what Mysterious Rick had done to him slowly seeped into his mind. Since they were constantly on the jump, Morty hadn't found a moment yet when he could have properly reflected on the traumatizing experience. "I'm always right, Morty. So, you see, we're helping them and they'll help us getting through this stupid "game" – it's a win-win situation. And hey, I don't have to tell you that you'll be the leader of the bunch, right? So, let's do this!" They finally came to the landing where a bunch of armed guards were standing gathered and as they were close enough one of the guards gave them – or more specifically Rick C137 – a scrutinizing look-over before activating a small machine via one button press. As soon as he had done that, a green vortex opened, the swirl and humming of the portal being the only real familiar thing that they had encountered in this entire place yet. Morty looked up at the huge metal ring that had produced the portal. It reminded him of a Stargate from the movie and the series of the same name. Being a fan of all sorts of sci-fi shows Morty remembered that he had watched it when he was younger even though it had some scary scenes. Now that he thought about it, Rick's portals were a lot like that "gate to the stars", too. They just didn't have those fancy effects. Still, He couldn't help but be a little disappointed that the metal ring that was around the portal didn't rotate when the guard had activated it. Without waiting for an invitation or further instructions, the duo entered the rip in space that would lead them to a random dimension and as soon as they passed through, the portal closed again.

Since Morty C-137 had called the other Mortys in the meantime and informed them about some possible suspects that they should probably investigate a bit more, the boys had all agreed to share the work and Morty C-133 was the one that volunteered to check out the doctor Ricks from the Healing Center and Morty Labs. Obviously, his Rick wasn't too happy about their involvement with this whole Morty kidnapping thing – it was none of their business and they were busy with other stuff. "You do realize that we're actually here to look for that weirdo Morty and don't have time for this crap." Rick C-133 did point out to his Morty. However, his grandson kept insisting, "C'mon, Rick. The others are helping out, too, and will inform us if they see or hear anything about the Morty we're looking for. And maybe we also find something out about him when we're asking around. At least it can't hurt to do it, right?" "Yeah, fine. I guess you got a point…" the scientist finally gave in with a sigh. Actually, it wasn't such a stupid idea to poke around at the clinics, seeing as the little shit had been wounded the last time that he had seen him. So it wasn't completely unlikely that he would visit a doctor who would take care of that for him. Therefore, the C-133 duo was approaching the Morty Healing Center first and Rick couldn't help but asses Surgeon Rick's crazy look and questionable outfit from afar already. Thankfully, he couldn't see past the counter or he would have seen how short the white latex skirt actually was as well as the straps of the garter belt that suspended the white latex stockings or the teal colored, heeled sandals that made his long legs look even longer still – in short Surgeon Rick's outfit looked like a cyber version of a latex nurse outfit and was definitely more fetish wear than actual work clothes. "So, you must be Surgeon Rick." Rick C-133 greeted. "Why, hello there. Yes, I am. How can I help you?" Surgeon Rick greeted cheerfully. C-133 peered behind the doctor and at the interior of the small clinic and spoke up again. "You've got no Mortys here? I would have expected a cute little Nurse Morty at least." Surgeon Rick's face fell a little "Yeah, they don't let me have any Mortys here. Actually it's been prohibited to assign Mortys to me anymore." "Why's that?" "That's none of your business, Mr. Customer Rick." Surgeon Rick's smile looked a bit strained and his voice sounded menacing despite the fake-friendly tone. "So, anyways…" the medic continued. "You gonna heal your Morty now or what? Actually he looks quite healthy to me." Surgeon Rick looked with slight disappointment at the Morty at Rick's side. Morty felt a shiver run down his spine and resisted the urge to hind behind his Rick's back. Screw it! He jumped behind his Rick and dug his hands in his lab coat. He had enough of creepy Ricks after what he had been through. Until now, he didn't even get a break to come to terms with what had happened to him and until his Rick found the culprit behind his kidnapping, he probably wouldn't get around to digest it properly – if he ever will. "No, we're fine right now. Just doing a bit sightseeing, checking out the locations. You know, stuff like that." Rick C-133 explained with a fake smile. "Okay. Well, when your Morty gets hurt just bring him to me. I'm going to fix him back up for free. Courtesy of the Council of Ricks of course." Surgeon Rick offered, sounding sincerely nice now. "Will do." Rick C-133 mumbled. Trying to bring it up as casually as he could, he finally cut the small talk and asked what he really wanted to know about, "By the way, did a suspicious Morty come by here?" "Suspicious? How so?" Surgeon Rick asked confused. "Well, I mean a Morty that's just different from other Mortys." "Hah! All Mortys are different from one another. There are not two Mortys who are the same." Surgeon Rick replied with conviction. "Well, he should have had a broken left arm. You had any like that in today?" he tried to specify. "Sure. I've got at least twenty today alone." The doctor replied with a smile as if they were just casually talking about the weather and not injured Mortys. Yeah, that didn't help him at all. It was obviously just a waste of time trying to get some useful information out of the crazy medic. With a sigh and a mumbled "Yeah, whatever…" Rick C-133 turned around and left for good this time. "Bye and have a nice day~" Surgeon Rick sang in his shrill voice, his creepy grin back in place and waving a latex-gloved hand. Both Rick and Morty had to agree that this guy was uncomfortably freaky. "That guy is not quite right. And I'm not just talking about his weird personality or clothing." Rick said to his Morty "I wonder why he's prohibited from getting a Morty assigned to him?" His Morty nodded at that "Yeah. That certainly sounds very suspicious…" "Well, since the Morty Labs are pretty close by, how about we check out the other nutty doctor over there. Can't be much worse than this one…" Morty didn't really feel like encountering another Freak Rick, but he followed his Rick anyways. He had promised the other's to check them out and so far the suspicions didn't seem to be entirely for nothing…

They wandered around in this oddly looking dimension, which had mint-green grass and trees with pink leaves. Morty C-137 looked in awe at their surroundings, which looked so different from earth and not only because of the odd color palette. The smells of peppermint and cotton candy wafted through the air coming without a doubt from the nature that was surrounding them. Rick, however, was completely focused on his Mortytector, not looking up for a single second. He went in a straightforward path to a row of trees and only then did he bother to look up from his device. Motioning for Morty to be quiet, he slowly nudged himself between the trees and peeked at what was behind it. Morty also slid up next to Rick, trying not to make any loud noises as he walked over the fallen and piled up leaves from the trees and supporting himself on the trunk so to not trip over an extended root. There, walking on a patch of grass and looking rather lost was a kid. "R-Rick? Is that a Morty?" C-137 asked in a careful whisper. "Let's see: brown hair, yellow shirt, blue jeans. Yeah, I'd say that it's obviously a Morty. I-I mean— just take a look! What else could it be, Morty?!" Rick replied also in a hushed whisper but clearly annoyed tone. "But t-that doesn't really—" Morty started, but was quickly interrupted by his grandfather. "Look, Morty. We're here to—gotta have to catch us some Mortys, okay? So, let go of your planetary mindset, stop being judgmental and let's just gonna do so-some catching now." Without waiting for a reply, Rick left the safe hiding place to approach the Wild Morty, his own Morty following a bit reluctantly. Startled by the rustling of the leaves, the Wild Morty turned around to see the advancing duo and the Morty's eyes widened before the instinct to flee kicked in. "Oh great." Rick groaned, but started to run after the fleeing Morty nonetheless. "Looks like we'll have to chase it until it's tired itself out, Morty." "'It', Rick? Really? 'IT'?!" Morty complained about the phrasing. They ran over patches of grass, weaved between some trees and even followed a small, pebbled path, before the Wild Morty was forced to stop. Panting heavily from exhaustion the poor thing had reached a dead-end as thick shrubbery blocked off any means of escape. Morty himself was panting heavily from all the running, but felt bad for the other Morty. He could clearly see the fear in the Wild Morty's eyes. "Finally. That Rick from the Day Care had said that we need to weaken Wild Mortys before we can catch them, so – attack, Morty!" "Aw, geez…" Morty complained but approached the other Morty. Still not wanting to fight against one of his own kind, he wanted to try a different approach and lifted his hands up a little to show that he meant no harm. "H-hey, there…" he started, but didn't come very far as the Wild Morty lunged at him and managed to throw him to the ground. "Ouch!" "What the heck was that, Morty? That's just embarrassing." Rick immediately criticized. And that was probably true because any attempt at peaceful conversation was pretty much pointless at the moment. The Wild Morty was acting like a cornered animal now and not holding back at attacking Morty C-137. Rick watched the entire scuffle from the sidelines and could tell that the Wild Morty was clearly stronger than his own. Just as Morty C-137 was short of passing out, laying on the ground with the other Morty sitting on top of him and about to deliver the final blow, did Rick actually step in. In a swift motion, he pressed the injector to the Wild Morty's temple and watched the red LED on the attached Manipulator Chip blinking on and off a few times before it turned green. The newly captured Morty's stare was blank as the chip was probably working on rearranging the memories and Rick hoped that it was working properly. Obviously, it should work properly because this wasn't even one of the chips that he had crafted, but actually one that he had stolen from Salesman Rick. Not that his own chips wouldn't be able to work. He just stole that one, to check out how this thing was built up because it was always easier rebuilding something that already existed instead of having to start from scratch. Which wasn't saying that Rick couldn't do that, but he really didn't have the time for all that crap. "Morty?" he carefully addressed the newest addition to the team to make sure the chip really did work. "Yeah? What is it, Grandpa Rick?" the freshly caught Morty asked back. "Wow. You really listen to the name 'Morty'?" Morty C-137 now asked, having recovered a little bit from the brutal, one-sided battle and got to his feet again. "Why wouldn't I? You listen to the name 'Morty', too, aren't you?" "Well, yeah, but that's not really your name, is it?" C-137 asked, but gulped at the antagonizing look he received in return. "Well, it's not really your name either, right? You're name is actually 'Mortimer', yet you listen to the nickname 'Morty'." "Yeah, w-well… that's true. What is your actual name though?" "My name is Morticia. However, I'm fine with being called Morti even though no one in my family has started to call me that before Grandpa Rick came to live with us." Morticia confessed. At the mention, she looked back to Rick, but suddenly her eyes went wide. "Um, Rick?" she asked. Rick did feel uncomfortable at that look. Did the chip not work properly, after all? "Yeah?" he urged here on. "Wh-where are your boobs?" Rick and Morty's facial features derailed at that. "WH-WHAT?! Obviously, I don't have boobs! I'm a guy, not a chick!" Rick yelled almost indignantly, the hint of a blush on his face. Was Morticia's original Rick a female Rick or something? "Y-yeah, I know. But remember that you actually made it so that you had boobs and said that you did it so that I wouldn't feel so bad about being a female Morty anymore? And you were so proud of them, too. I mean those were some huge knockers." Both Rick and Morty looked at her as if asking if she was serious about this. It made her a little nervous and definitely uncomfortable. "B-but I guess it's better for your back if you don't have them anymore. I mean, i-it's not like I'm complaining." she decided to quickly drop the subject.

The walk to Morty Labs was short since it was just in the neighborhood. Of course, these facilities were all located close to each other to save the trainers the mileage and also to keep up the sales. All they had to do was walk down some steps and then turn around the corner and the building of nutty medic Rick number two was already in sight. As they waltzed up to the counter, Lab Rick seemed to be just finished with his last job. He handed a Morty over to his alien trainer. The poor boy looked somewhat dazed and completely disoriented. Morty C-133's heart immediately went out to him, but the Morty's owner already dragged him away – probably off to more Morty battles. Tearing his eyes away from his unfortunate alternative counterpart, Morty looked back up and looked around the so called Morty-Lab – and instantly regretted it. He cringed at the sight of a brain in a glass jar, eyeballs still attached to it and staring blankly into nothingness. In another jar was something, which looked like a Morty-embryo or something and he wasn't sure if he even wanted to know what it was here for. Aside from that – and some other jars that contained eyeballs and who knows what else – an assortment of questionable medications like "Mortynol" for example littered the workspace and a bunch of capsules that he had seen in the Blips and Chitz machines as well as some Petri dishes and even some of those manipulator chips. A calendar that hung on the wall however caught his interest. Not exactly the fact that the calendar stated that it was the 11th of Ricktober today – though it was interesting to know that the Citadel had its very own calendar system – and also not the notes that Lab Rick had scribbled on certain dates, but for the fact that a picture of Surgeon Rick was decorating it. After his uncomfortable examination of the business, he turned his attention to a grinning Lab Rick. The medic completely ignored him though and was focused on Rick C-133. "Hey, there. How can I help you? Your Morty needing a memory wipe?" Rick C-133 looked like he was actually considering taking him up on the offer and maybe he was really contemplating it. Wouldn't that be the easiest way to help his Morty? To just erase that traumatic experience that he had to suffer from? Even if it meant that, he had to lie to his boy? "Nah, just doing a little sightseeing. I was actually wondering what your shop is about. So, you wipe Mortys' memories? Is that it?" "That's part of it, yes." Lab Rick answered, not sounding offended by the other's very insulting-sounding statement. "I can wipe Mortys' minds or trigger forgotten or even erased memories. So, if there's something you want your Morty to forget or to remember, you're in the right spot here." "Wow. Do you have a lot of customer's because this doesn't really sound too exciting?" Rick C-133 was not impressed. "More than you think, actually. Aside from Morty trainers, I've got my hands full with the Mortys from Plumbubo Prime 51b. Those Plumbus Slaves need some regular mind wipes." Morty looked alarmed and wanted to ask about that. Plumbus Slaves? Regular mind wipes? What was going on, on or in Plumbubo Prime – he honestly had no idea what Plumbubo Prime was even supposed to be. Was that a planet? A different dimension? His own Rick snorted and wore a look of disgust on his face. Looks like he knew what this was about. "Yeah, well whatever. Did a Morty without a trainer come by here today? He should have had a brok—a wounded arm." Lab Rick looked at him with something like disbelieve. "No. Why? Did one run away from you? For malfunctioning manipulator chips, you should go and see Surgeon Rick to fix that. Or you could go to Salesman Rick for a refund. But if that Morty is really wounded the Healing Center would be your best bet." "Do you know him personally?" Morty suddenly spoke up from behind the safety of his Rick's back. "I-I mean Surgeon Rick?" Rick L-54 looked down at him for the first time, making a face of surprise as if he hadn't noticed him being there until now. "Yeah, I do know him. We've both been working at the Citadel's Medical Research Facility before we took on these jobs." He admitted. "So you know each other pretty good?" Morty carefully treaded forward. The medic huffed a little laugh. "Yeah, you could say that we know each other very well." "T-then… do you also know why he's prohibited from Morty re-reassignments?" Lab Rick's smiling face dropped instantly and the playful mood turned to ice in a matter of seconds. He leaned forward, coming closer to Morty's face who froze up in fear, hands digging deep into his Rick's lab coat, completely forgetting that there was a perforated glass window still separating them. The boy had a deer-caught-in-headlights-look on his face. "That's some very personal information, you know. And it's not really my place to tell." The medic's tone sounded dangerous, almost threatening. Even to someone with the disability of not being able to read between lines, it would have been obvious that he just said "That's none of your fucking business!" without actually saying it. Morty fought the urge to 'eep' in fright and just hid more behind his Rick's back, almost regretting to be so forward and asking as he did. However, this also made the medic fishier and Morty couldn't help, but suspect that the two doctor Ricks are somehow working together. At least they were both sharing this secret and that was suspicious enough as is. Lab Rick cleared his throat as he stood to his full height again and looked back at Rick C-133. "There something else you want to know or can I go back to my work now?" He pulled on his leather gloves as if to make a point. C-133 matched his attitude with a sigh and a slightly agitated look on his face, seeming equally irritated. "We're fine, thanks." With that he turned around, one hand on his Morty's back to urge him to move. He was getting really frustrated that Lab Rick also didn't seem to know anything about that mysterious Morty. C-133 had as many traces as before – namely none. "Hey, if you ever need to wipe your Mortys memories, you're welcome any time." Rick L-54 shouted after the retreating duo. It made Morty feel somehow uncomfortable. The very thought that there was Rick technology that could do that sort of thing… Ricks being able to control what Mortys got to remember and what not. A shudder ran through him, as his imagination went wild. Rick didn't turn back or comment on it. He only patted Morty's back slightly where his hand still rested that had pushed the boy in the direction that they're headed…

It was only a few trainer battles in that Rick quickly realized what a good addition Morticia was to their team. She easily proved that she was so much a better fighter than Morty in those few battles that the scientist really thought about renouncing what he had said to his grandson previously and make Morticia the leader of the bunch. Who knew that the slight difference in gender could make such a huge difference? It probably didn't really have to do with gender, but that's what Rick would be sticking to for now. Beating just another weak trainer and his pathetic Mortys to the ground, they found themselves slowly approaching the battle ground of this dimension's Rick. Morty was currently ignoring how the scales were tipping and that his grandfather was down talking him more and praising the female version of himself above everything else, clearly favoring one of the two. It wasn't like he didn't notice it, he was just too busy pondering over the call that he had received a short while ago. Morty C-133 had called and teleconferencing all of them as he shared his gatherings from investigating the Medic Ricks. "Unfortunately I couldn't find out any specifics, but both Ricks from the Healing Center and from Morty Labs are definitely freaks and very suspicious. Surgeon Rick is definitely the crazier one between the two and they both share some secret that they won't reveal to anyone. It's about the reason why the surgeon isn't allowed to have any Mortys assigned to him anymore. Whatever this is about, the two clearly seem to be working together somehow. I'm sorry that I couldn't find out more yet, but I'll definitely try to keep it up…" The other Mortys found that as suspicious as C-133 did and they all promised to keep some track on both of the medics and that they would try to look into it more if they found the chance and time… Morty wondered if they really already found the culprit – well, at least someone who was behind the brothel ring. Of course, there was still the search for Mysterious Rick and also that dangerous Morty… C-137 got drawn out of his thoughts as they walked up a small flight of stairs and into the arena, ready to face their first Rick (Boss) battle. Morty was actually shocked as he looked their opponents over. Ignoring the odd-looking Mortys, he actually observed the Rick more closely. Actually, he would have thought that all Ricks would be cocky bastards that would seem a lot more intimidating, but this one looked rather… pitiful. This Rick looked far older than any other versions of his grandfather, the wrinkles like deep valleys in the ashen skin and bags hung heavy under his eyes. But that wasn't what was so shocking to Morty C-137, also not the skull that the other scientist was clutching tightly in his hands. No, it was the open display of emotions that laid bare on this Rick's face. He actually looked like he would start to cry any moment and his gaze was fixed on his two Mortys, making it looked like he wanted to do nothing more than to apologize to his grandsons over and over again. Their first Rick opponent was Guilty Rick. Rick C-137 stepped forward and said "Okay, let's make this qu*oouurgh*ick." Guilty Rick finally looked up to his opponent, clutching the skull in his hand that was that of a Morty, the slightest bit tighter. "Actually, I'd rather not fight. I've seen so many horrible things already, I do not want to see more Mortys getting hurt…" C-137 smiled smugly. "Pfft. Fine with me. Then just hand over the badge and give me a portal and we're outta here without anyone getting hurt." Guilty Rick sighed loudly. "I'm afraid, I cannot do that. The rules prevent me from it." C-137 facial features flipped back to a frown "Well, then we gotta battle. Morty get in there." Hesitantly Morty stepped forward. Guilty Rick only sighed again before he sent his own Morty into the ring. Morty C-137 looked his opponent over. It was a very odd-looking Morty. The tiny creature looked like a Morty in an almost embryonically state as his hands were in its most rudimentary form and its feet were absent as if they hadn't developed yet. The pink jelly-like substance that was surrounding it only added to the helpless-look that it emitted. "Be careful, Test X1." Guilty Rick said to his little partner, looking worried for his little companions health and safety. "Rick. I-I can't do it, Rick. I can't fight against it—him." Morty said as he looked at the other's big eyes. "Argh, Morty!" his Rick groaned in frustration and slapped his hand on his face. "Aren't you the most useless turd ever? Whatever, just get back here. Morticia, you go in and crush him." As Guilty Rick saw the look of determination and lack of mercy on the female Morty's face, he panicked a little and decided to also switch out his Morty. "Test X64, you go in." Even if it was a wise decision of Guilty Rick to swap out, correctly sensing that Morticia was a tougher enemy even his stronger Morty didn't stood a chance. The Test X64 certainly put up a fight, attacking Morticia with body slams and weird pitiful screeches and howling noises, but Morticia was still stronger than that. She fought back with fist and even teeth as she bit her enemy, throwing him to the ground and jumping on him to pummel him with her fists before he would throw her off again. Rick C-137 cheered her on between shouting out commands to her while Guilty Rick also spoke commands but watched mostly worried. With one last powerful punch Morticia came out as the victor, towering over he fallen and dazed opponent while she was still panting heavily. "Oh no, Test X64." Guilty Rick mourned and grieved over the loss of the fight. The Rick carefully check for his wounds, accessing the damage as he apologized and stroked the Jell-O outer case. The dazed Morty gave a few pitiful screeches that made his Rick's heart break. Morty Test X1 came forward now, moving back into the ring. "Oh, nonono, Morty. You don't have to do it. We can forfeit this battle." Guilty Rick said, now even more reluctant than before to let his littler Morty fight. The Morty gave a few noises as if to tell his Rick that it was all right and he wanted to do it. The moment was so touching that it brought tears to Guilty Ricks eyes. Rick C-137 rolled his eyes at the overly dramatic display of emotions and affection. "Morticia, come back here. You did good, girl." Rick said as he saw that the fight had taken a bit out of her and she was wounded and panting still. He didn't doubt that she would be able to finish the other opponent off, too, but he wanted to give his grandson another chance. "C'mon, Morty. I'm generous enough to give you a second chance at this. Rip him apart." Morty stepped hesitantly forward and looked at his determined opponent who really seemed to have an entirely different opinion on this battle than he did. Despite its confidence, the creature still looked innocent albeit weird and Morty still couldn't find it in him to cause any harm to it. "Jeez, Rick. I-I still don't think that I can do it…" Morty said as he looked with curled brows over to his opponent. "C'mon, Morty! What the fuck?! What is wrong with you?!" Rick was getting peeved – 'Such an ungrateful, little bastard!' – and got more and more aggravated by the second. "Y-you know, if you keep that up I'll just leave you at the Day Care, Morty." "Yeah, seriously. What's wrong with you?" Morticia now also started to chime in. "Just do it!" "Yeah, Morty! Just do it, you little pussy. Aren't you embarrassed that a girl version of you can do this so much better?" Rick continued to lay verbally into him and Morticia also continued going at it, their voices starting to overlap as if they were trying to outdo each other at beating him down with words. The verbal abuse, coupled with the built up stress from everything that had happened in the previous battles – and most likely from the events that had even lead them here – was starting to get too much. Morty may had been preoccupied with his thoughts on the events of the other Mortys investigations, but it didn't mean that all the insults that he received from his Rick since Morticia had joined them were just forgotten. The boy was at his limit – having finally reached the breaking point – and suddenly he started to see red. Flipping out, Morty suddenly screamed and ran at his enemy, furiously attacking the seemingly defenseless Morty-Embryo-Thingy that didn't stand a chance against him. He kept pounding, laying into his enemy for several minutes even after it had stopped moving already. After something that felt like an eternity the red sheen lifted from his vision and he panted heavily as he looked down at his poor victim. The pink Jell-O-like membrane had been almost completely liquefied and still clung to his hands, yellow shirt, pants and face and the Morty inside that jelly-like outer case had been beaten to a pulp, laying on the ground and only giving an occasional twitch and making the faintest pained sounds. As he slowly realized what had happened while he was still regaining his senses, his Rick commented, sounding slightly proud "Whoa, Morty! Who knew that you were such a killing machine? You really need to chill, buddy." Guilty Rick had abandoned the Morty-skull that he had hang on to in favor of cradling the dazed Test X1 Morty in his arms. "I'm sorry, Morty. I'm so sorry." He whispered to the small creature. He wailed as the Morty in his arms took his last painful-looking breath. "Oh my god! I think I-I killed it, Rick! Uh, him." Morty shouted panicked. "*Urp* whatever." Rick commented with little interest. "I'm so sorry, Morty." The grieving Rick mumbled still cradling the deceased Morty in his arms. "C'mon, I don't have time for this crap. Hand over the badge and shoot us a portal back to the Citadel so that we can move on with this shitty adventure." Without looking up, the other Rick pulled first a badge from his lab coat and handed it over before retrieving his portal gun and opening a way back for the C-137 Team. Guilty Rick never let go of his little Morty and still mumbled apologies while rocking back and forth. "I'm so, so sorry, Morty. I will join you soon…" Rick C-137 ignored the poor excuse for a Rick that had crumbled before his feet and went through the portal. His two Mortys joined him albeit his Original Morty a bit more reluctantly as he looked worriedly at the defeated Rick that they left behind. "Rick, do you thing that he's going to do something to himself?" "Morty, I don't know and I don't care." Rick pulled his flask from the pocket of his lab coat and actually took the time to look back at him as he said, "You know, at best that's going to be a subplot that has no relevance to our story-line." He continued to walk as he took a sip from his flask.

Surgeon Rick sat slumped at his counter, just lost in his thoughts when he suddenly saw a familiar figure approaching the Healing Center. He immediately perked up. "Mio Amante." He said happily, as Lab Rick came up to the counter. "What do I owe the pleasure to see you here?" "Well, I'm having lunch break right now and thought that I couldn't spent my time better than with you, mia Estrella." He answered. "Oh, that's so sweet of you, but you know that I can't close the clinic. Gotta be always open in case of emergencies, you know?" Surgeon Rick replied, looking first delighted but then a little saddened again. "Well, I don't see any customer's right now." Lab Rick commented after he looked around. Indeed, there wasn't much going on today and there were surprisingly few pedestrians walking around at the moment. It was an extremely peaceful and quite day today and it actually felt pretty nice to have a breather for once. Lab Rick went around the reception counter, taking the freedom to invite himself in. He quickly took Rick S-422 in his arms from behind and whispered against his ear "C'mon, let us spend some time together." The way in which Lab Rick had said those words, made it very obvious to Surgeon Rick how exactly he wanted to spend the time with him. "Oh, c'mon. Never at work, remember?" he answered back, but didn't try to get out of the embrace. They still had their rule from the time when they both worked at the medical research facility: to not have sex at their workplace – at least Rick S-422 was still sticking to that. "I don't see you working right now." Rick L-54 commented and began to nip at the other's ear. "Hngh… Amante…" Surgeon Rick moaned softly from the ministrations. He was slowly giving in. After taking one more look around at the plaza in front of the Healing Center and seeing it practically empty, he sighed. "Okay, but make it quick." "Hmm, sure. Been awhile since we done it quick and dirty, hasn't it?" L-54 agreed. S-422 didn't comment further on that and instead dragged the other deeper into the little clinic. They went over to a little cot that was for examining the Mortys. Enticingly Surgeon Rick bent over it, thrusting his ass out and showing the other exactly what and how he wanted it. Lab Rick licked his lips hungrily at the sight, his eyes wandered over the patch of shaved and surprisingly smooth skin between the rim of his stockings and the tips of the mini skirt. His hands quickly followed on that trail and lifted the skirt up enough to reveal a bright-pink lace thong underneath. Nice! Rick L-54 grinned wolfishly at the seductive garment. As pretty as it was, it was in the way though and needed to go. So, with a quick movement, he pulled the garment down and left the other Rick's bottom completely exposed. Deciding to have a little fun and foreplay first even though they should really hurry up since they didn't know when the next customer would show up, he gave one of the ass cheeks a hard spank. Surgeon Rick groaned from the slap, but didn't seem to mind – if anything it was actually quite the opposite. The L-Rick's hands then started to knead both cheeks before he spread them wide apart. Hungrily, he bent down and started to lick from the surgeon's balls all the way up the crack. "Mmh… Amante. Hurry up!" Surgeon Rick moaned impatiently and wriggled his ass. Lab Rick smirked in reaction to that. "Don't you know that good things come to those who wait, Estrella?" "If I'd been the kind of Rick who sits around and waits, I wouldn't be a Nobel price winner." The surgeon retorted smugly. Well, that was probably true. Instead of commenting though, Lab Rick bent down again to lap at the other's opening. The wrinkly rosette fluttered, giving an invitation to the wet muscle to come inside, which the hungry tongue gladly followed. Surgeon Rick groaned loudly as his lover was eating him out. He eagerly thrusted his ass back as Lab Rick fucked him with his tongue, delving deeper and deeper with each push. "Hngh… J-just hurry up already!!" "Tsk. So impatient." As Rick L-54 said that, he pulled off his gloves and pushed two fingers at once deep into his lover's rectum – dry. The sudden stretch and burn made the surgeon groan loudly. "Yeah. You like that, baby?" Rhythmically Lab Rick stretched the other out who didn't really mind the pain from the lack of lubricant. After all, Rick's were as much masochists as they were sadists. After deeming the other ready enough, Lab Rick mercifully retrieved a bottle of lube that he always carried in his apron and slathered up his cock, which he quickly freed from his pants with the slick gel-like substance before positioning its head against the pink puckered hole. In one quick, hard thrust, he buried all of his nine inches inside of his lover. Surgeon Rick practically howled and even Lab Rick couldn't contain his groan at the feeling of the heat that enveloped him. For a moment neither of the two lovers moved. Then Lab Rick started to lazily stroke with one of his hands over the other Rick's back. "C'mon. Just get to it, Amante. You're really taking your time today…" Surgeon Rick urged and moved to push back against him. "And you are more impatient today than usual." Despite his reply, Lab Rick decided not to tease his lover any further and finally moved. He withdrew his length till only the tip remained inside just to ram it back in a moment later. Like that, he set a hard and fast pace, reaming his lover who was bent over the cot and clutching the upholstery tightly. Surgeon Rick moved back, matching each of Lab Rick's harsh thrusts and they both groaned and moaned loudly as they were quickly approaching their orgasms. The sound of someone clearing his throat was suddenly heard loudly over every other noise the two Ricks made in their little tryst of love. Both looked up to see none other than Rick C-137 standing at the counter. "Looks like I'm interrupting something here." He said with a grin that indicated that he wasn't the least bit sorry for disrupting them. At his side stood Morty who was covering his eyes with his hands and his head glowed as red as a traffic light. Morticia stood on his other side and was also blushing heavily while looking the other way. Neither of them had wanted to see that. "I'm here to get my Mortys healed up." C-137 continued. Morty instantly complained, fidgeting. "Aw geez, oh man… do we really have to go in there? Can't you just buy a serum or something?" "And waste my hard earned Schmeckles that I got from the battles which, by the way weren't won by you? C'mon, the healing here is free so move your ass in there already, Morty." Arguing further with his grandfather would be pointless at this moment so Morty just gave in and walked together with Morticia in the clinic. Thankfully, the two lovers had already separated again and fixed their clothes. Lab Rick was on his way out, but not before saying something to his boyfriend in a low-tone. "See you later, mia Estrella." However, even if it was spoken lowly, Rick C-137 still heard it and quirked his eyebrow after the medic had left the facility. "So, you gonna fix my Mortys now or what Estrella?" he spoke that nickname in a mocking tone. "Yeah, yeah. I'm on it already. You just wait up there in the front." Surgeon Rick answered before finally focusing on the Mortys. "C'mon, get out of your shirt and hop up so that I can examine you." He said to Morty C-137 while motioning to the cot that he had been bent over just recently. Morty visibly cringed at the thought of having to sit there while being half-naked and getting examined by the creepy-looking doctor. Surgeon Rick saw this reaction and exaggeratedly rolled his eyes. "Just get on it already. It's not like it's contaminated or anything." After all, he didn't get to cum so nothing was ruined – well, other than his mood…

After he was examined, healed, cleaned up and even given some clean clothes to put on again, Morty C-137 had decided to inform the others about his newest "discovery". He was able to get all the Mortys on teleconference again before he reported the news. "Okay, so the Medic Ricks are definitely weirdos, but I think I have uncovered their big secret now. It seems that these two are actually having an affair with each other." He explained. "Uh… you guys don't wanna know how I found out about that…" "S-s-so, does t-that m-mean that we-we can already r-rule them o-o-ou-ut now?" A-22β6 asked. "I think that we can." K-4872 spoke up now. "I found out why Surgeon Rick is prohibited from Morty reassignments. I've done some research and to make a long story short there had been an incident, concerning the death of a Morty. The whole thing had been a tragic accident though and another incident with a Morty who reported him was apparently just a misunderstanding. So, yeah. I think that we can rule these two out as suspects." "Okay, got it. Still, thank you for your efforts, C-133." C-137 replied. A-22β6 spoke up again. "I-I'll check o-o-ou-ut Salesman R-Rick together w-with my R-Rick next." "Okay. Good luck and take care." The Mortys bid each other goodbye before they hung up again. Morty K-4872 also hung up after the tel-co was over. "So… Rick-cest, huh? I guess that is a thing, after all…" he couldn't help but comment on the entire affair thing. "We've all been there and done that at one point…" his Rick answered. Morty looked with a frown at his Rick. "TMI, Rick. TMI."

Bonus: "Harder, Amante! Harder!" Gloved fingers dug into the sides of the cot as he held on for dear life. His lover was driving into him in a fast pace, hitting his prostate with each powerful thrust. "Fuck! You feel so good, Estrella!" Lab Rick groaned, his hands gripping those bony hips tighter, sure to leave some bruises. The two medics moaned loudly, both longing feverishly for release. So close, so close…just a little more… "Excuse me?" Surgeon Rick groaned in annoyance, his head dropping forward on the cot in defeat. Not again. "I want to have my Mortys healed. What kind of service is this?" The voice of a Rick complained from the counter. Lab Rick, despite wanting to do anything but stop right now, halted. That only agitated the surgeon more. "Is it impossible to get some dick in peace and quiet here for once?!" He yelled frustrated in his shrill voice. The outburst actually shock the customer Rick and with a mumbled "jeez" he left with his entourage of blushing Mortys. No one in their right mind would want to deal with a sexually frustrated Rick voluntarily…

AN: I like to point out that we have a side story now that will be accompanying this fanfic. It's called "The Mortys and their Stories" and as the title suggests, it will center on the backstories of the Mortys that Rick C-137 catches in this fanfic. That way you can still get more information and character development if you like without me cluttering up this story too much.

Part 11 of Entricked Fates

Chapter 1

Chapter 3

Part 1 of Entricked Fates: Gotta Catch Me Some Morty

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Part 2 of Entricked Fates: Mortyfied and Rickfused

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Part 3 of Entricked Fates: Ricking the Routine

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Part 4 of Entricked Fates: Ricks will always be Ricks

oneshot

Part 5 of Entricked Fates: The Morty-Lover

oneshot

Part 6 of Entricked Fates: Second Chances AKA The Rick One For Me

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Part 7 of Entricked Fates: Rickvestigating the Morty Disappearances

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Part 8 of Entricked Fates: When the Morty’s away, the Rick will play

oneshot

Part 9 of Entricked Fates: It’s Not His Ricking Fault!

oneshot

Part 10 of Entricked Fates: I Ricking Hate My Life!

oneshot

Part 12 of Entricked Fates: The Mortys and their Stories

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

#rick and morty #ram #rnm #rick #oc ricks #surgeon rick #Lab Rick #rick c137 #morty #oc mortys #rickcest #smut #fanfic #fanfiction #hopesfanfictions #entricked fates #morticia #morticia smith

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writemyanchor · 7 years

Text

Along Came You

Summary: Killian Jones is a jaded NYPD detective who has been on the force for nearly ten years. He doesn’t do emotions and he certainly doesn’t do relationships. Enter Emma Swan. She’s never been one to back down from a challenge.

Rated E

Content/Trigger warnings: Strong sexual content, language, mention of minor character(s) death(s), alcohol abuse

a/n: First of all, thank you to the community @captainswanbigbang that put the CSLB together. It was so much fun interacting with artists and writers on tumblr and getting to create together. So, thank you!

Also, thank you to my amazing beta-reader @awkwardnessandbaseball who has more patience than I can understand and is so bad ass in her editing skills. She made this story SO much better.

Finally, I love my artwork! I’ve never had one for a CS fic before and @liloproductions made this beautiful one for my story that fit so well and was so perfect that I was almost shocked how spot on she got it. I’m simply in love with it.

Lastly, if you read this fic in its entirety, then you’re already really freaking awesome in my book!

Links: AO3 FANFICTION

X X

KILLIAN JONES

He pushed himself harder than he’d intended at the gym, his sweat-soaked shirt sticking to his skin. He was beat, having gotten off an 18-hour shift two nights before then jogging to and from a two-hour gym session with David. He should have ignored his best friend when he rang him at 6 o’clock that morning, but…

The elevator dinged on his floor and Killian pushed himself off the wall, grabbing his keys from his pocket as he walked down the hall towards his apartment. When he entered his place, he was surprised to find the scent of bacon and eggs as well as the faint sound of the radio coming from the kitchen. Killian kicked off his shoes and left his things by the door before rounding the corner, a pinch in his brow.

The brunette standing in front of the stove—the very reason he had answered David’s call—was currently humming along to Electric Light Orchestra’s ‘Don’t Bring Me Down’ without a care in the world, swaying her hips, completely oblivious to his presence.

He was hit with flashes of the night before. His head ached from the amount of rum he had consumed, but he could remember bits and pieces of her dancing against him. He wasn’t much of a dancer, mostly just swayed slightly, smiling like a drunken fool as she rubbed her body against him.

Killian shook his head to clear his mind before he loudly cleared his throat. The brunette jumped slightly before spinning around on her heel. She was wearing her tiny boy shorts and one of his t-shirts, which made him clench his jaw.

Had she rifled through his things while he was gone? The woman before him smiled and reached over to turn off the radio. “Hey, you,” she said, her chest heaving a bit. “I was wondering where you went.” She sauntered over to him, a seductive smile on her face as she wrapped her arms around his neck. Suddenly, Killian couldn’t breathe. “Um,” he hummed and, trying his best to remember his manners, placed his fingertips barely on her waist to push her away gently. Her forehead wrinkled in confusion. “What’s the matter, baby?” His eyebrow rose of its own accord because he had just met this woman last night, after a pint too many, and they didn’t even know each other’s last names. “Listen, Aurora—” She almost beamed at him remembering her first name and it made something in his chest ache, but he pushed it away—“I have an early shift tomorrow morning and I have...a lot of errands to do today.” Aurora’s face fell and she took a step back. “What?” she chuckled. “Last night you said we’d...spend the weekend together.”

Killian’s jaw dropped. Had he really said that?

She took a step towards him and he took one back. Both of her eyebrows flew up this time and after a moment she said, “You’re blowing me off.” “I’m not—“ “I thought we had a good time last night.” Bloody hell. “We did, love, just...” “First, I am not your love. Second, my friend told me exactly what you were like and I didn’t listen.” She let out a sigh before looking around uncomfortably for a moment. “Let me just grab my things.” Killian ran a hand through his hair and let out a long sigh of his own as he heard Aurora rummaging around in his bedroom. About five minutes later she emerged fully dressed with her hair thrown up in a high ponytail. Killian could do nothing but watch her as she sat down in the foyer to slip on her shoes. It wasn’t until she reached for the doorknob that he finally found his voice. “For what it’s worth, I did have a good time,” he said. “I just don’t...do this.” He motioned between them pathetically.

She let out a humorless laugh before turning around to face him. “So what? You just fuck your way through New York because you have commitment issues? Guess what? We all have baggage. What makes yours any heavier than the rest of ours?” He couldn’t help but flinch at her words, but she didn’t give him a chance to respond—not that he could—before she left. She didn’t slam the door behind her like he expected, like he knew he deserved.

X X

EMMA SWAN

Emma was laying in her bed at 2 o’clock in the morning, hair thrown up in a loose bun and eating leftover pizza from the parlor down the street. She had to be up in just a few hours, but for now she didn’t care. She had finally finished unpacking and was officially moved into her new apartment— it was modest, but it was clean and in a nice neighborhood and that was all she had wanted. She didn’t think she would actually finish moving in that night, but her friend Mary-Margaret, in all her beautiful, insistent glory, had rang her doorbell at 5 o’clock that morning with a smile on her face.

“David’s at the gym and I wanted to see your new place!” was her only explanation. But she had brought coffee and bear claws and was an interior designer for crying out loud, so really Emma had no room to complain.

Emma had known Mary-Margaret back in Storybrooke, Maine. They met their freshman year of high school and had even been roommates at Boston University for four years. They only parted ways when Mary-Margaret moved to New York for graduate school. Then she met David and the two of them had been inseparable ever since, moving in together not long after.

Emma was happy for her friend—David was a good man who loved her and Mary-Margaret deserved nothing less. Although, sometimes Emma had to admit she envied her friend’s love. She knew that what Mary-Margaret and David felt for each other was deep and rare, and it was something Emma had never had.

That didn’t stop her from thinking about it, though. Perhaps it was the romantic novels she buried herself in, but Emma sometimes wondered if there was a person out there who would fit into her life like a missing puzzle piece.

She thought she might have found something close with Neal, but it turned out she had just been young and naive. She turned to casual dating through college, thinking she would ‘stumble’ across her Prince Charming one day.

But that had only led her to Walsh, the arrogant salesman; Jefferson, who flirted with everything in a dress; and of course Graham, who was so sweet and kind and good-looking to boot that Emma almost wanted him to be the one. Sadly, there had just been no spark.

Needless to say, she still hadn’t met the man that quite...did it for her. She hadn’t met her person.

Emma’s plan had never been to join Mary-Margaret in New York—she had a good teaching job at Bunker Hill Community College and a cozy little loft—but she felt maybe it was time to get out of Boston and try to get a fresh start away from everything that was familiar. So when NYU had emailed her about an opening for professors specifically in Classic Literature, she knew it was a sign.

The next day was her first day teaching and she was ready.

X X

KILLIAN JONES

“Well hello there, Casanova.”

Killian rolled his eyes as he took a seat at his desk, across from his partner David. He handed David his coffee while taking a sip of his own. Killian began aimlessly fiddling through a finished case file on his desk, hoping to distract his friend from where this conversation was obviously headed.

“Sorry for pulling you away from your lady love yesterday,” David continued, an infuriating grin on his face. “If you’d just told me you were seeing someone…”

“I’m not.” Killian couldn’t help but snap, looking up. Then his eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he shook his head. “Wait, how the bloody hell did you know about that?”

David couldn’t hide his guilty face even if he tried. “Robin may have let a few details slip about your outing at the bar this weekend. So, what’s her name?” He smiled and leaned back in his chair, placing both hands behind his head.

Killian’s jaw clenched as he looked down at the papers in front of him. “It doesn’t matter,” he said quietly. “I’m not seeing her again.”

He heard David sigh. “Isn’t that the third one night stand you’ve had this month?”

Killian couldn’t help but slam his pen on his desk. “Bloody hell, are you keeping track?”

Suddenly David leaned forward with a serious expression. “Look, Killian, you know I love you like a brother—”

“Mate, I’m going to go ahead and stop you right there. I don’t want to hear your speech about ‘meaningful relationships’ before I’ve even finished my first cup of coffee,” he said, a pleading look on his face.

David held his hands up in surrender. “I promise you this is not a speech. I just think if you met the right person—”

Killian clenched his jaw again. “Listen, Dave. I told you once we’re not discussing this. I don’t want to have to tell you again.” He fixed his partner with a hard stare, and as expected, David let out a sigh before he finally backed down, frustration clear as day on his face.

Thankfully, the awkwardness didn’t last long because their captain approached them a moment later, clearing his throat and looking between the two men curiously. Killian tore his glare away from David to meet his superior’s gaze.

“Morning, gentleman,” Captain Gold said. “Is there a problem here?”

“No,” Killian answered, fighting to keep his voice steady. He didn’t want to get on his superior’s bad side today. “I have the briefing on the Samson case whenever you’re ready.” It was easy for Killian to slip back into the role of detective; it was familiar and safe.

“Absolutely,” Gold responded, all authority. “Be in my office in ten minutes.”

Killian simply nodded and turned his attention to his computer, burying himself in his paperwork once again. Twenty minutes later, David got up and offered him another cup of coffee. When Killian raised an eyebrow, and David only nodded once in return, he knew he and his friend were on good terms again. For now.

X X

EMMA SWAN

“You are being dramatic,” Mary-Margaret said, her tone disbelieving.

“I’m really not,” Emma laughed as Mary-Margaret took the wine bottle from her hands and led her to the kitchen. “Second day of class and I already have two students asking for extensions on a paper. What is happening to the world?”

“Hey, do not ask me that,” Regina—a close friend of Mary-Margaret—chimed in. “I could go on and on.”

Mary-Margaret giggled as she uncorked the wine and filled a glass. “We don’t want that. Here, drink this,” she said, handing the full glass to Regina, who took it graciously.

“By the way, is Jones gracing us with his presence tonight?” Regina asked.

Mary-Margaret sighed, handing Emma a generous glass of wine before pouring her own. “I honestly do not know what is going on with that man,” she said, setting the bottle down. “You know I haven’t seen him since Trivia Night? Two months ago.”

“Who is Jones?” Emma asked curiously.

“Killian Jones,” Mary-Margaret said. “David’s partner.”

“Oh!” Emma recalled the few stories she heard about him from Mary-Margaret and David over the years, but she had never met him, nor seen a photo of him. “So he does exist.”

Mary-Margaret laughed and rolled her eyes.

“Who exists?” Regina’s husband, Robin, asked as he entered the kitchen. He was a few inches taller than her, with sandy blonde hair, kind eyes, and a British accent.

“Detective Killian Jones,” Regina said dramatically, wrapping her arm around Robin’s waist as he embraced her. “Heard of him?”

“Ahh yes, the elusive Detective Jones,” Robin said playfully. “I hear he lurks in subway trenches in the middle of the night, and feeds off the empty beer bottles of the Uni kids.”

Regina giggled, startling Emma and making her completely forget about the drink that was halfway to her mouth. She watched Regina snuggle closer to Robin with an almost drunken smile on her face that Emma was sure had nothing to do with the wine.

“You’re so cheesy, do you know that?” Regina murmured.

Robin looked down at her so longingly, Emma had to look away. “Only for you, my darling love bug,” he said.

Emma inexplicably felt herself blush and she quickly looked down before gulping the rest of her wine—despite it still being half full—and discreetly moved to the island to pour herself another.

Just as she was topping off her glass, she heard the distinct sound of lips smacking, so she took a large gulp of her wine and reached for a cracker on the cheese plate in front of her. Mary-Margaret appeared next to her, grabbing a tiny piece of salami and thankfully oblivious to her discomfort.

Before anyone could say another word, the doorbell rang. Mary-Margaret stepped forward to answer it, but David finally appeared from the living room and headed toward the front door. There were muffled voices and a few chuckles before footsteps approached them.

“Look who I found!” David’s booming voice entered the kitchen before he did.

Following behind him was a tall, dark-haired, incredibly handsome man. Emma Swan did not get goosebumps often, but here she was getting them at the sight of a total stranger. He was looking a bit sheepish at the attention he was now getting from everyone, and Emma took a moment to admire his crisp, dark blue button-down shirt, rolled up to his elbows. He was wearing a pair of dark, tight-fitting jeans that fit so snugly around his hips and legs she briefly wondered if he got them custom-fitted. He was holding a bottle of red wine in his hands...Which brought Emma to his hands.

Maybe it was because he was so handsome, maybe because he had this air of mystery surrounding him, but his hands were so...nice. They were manly, but elegant. Long and lean, but obviously strong. And his forearms, covered in a dark dusting of hair, flexed when he shook hands with Robin, and it took a minute for Emma to realize she was actually biting her lip. She quickly stopped, but immediately after her eyes zoned in on the bit of chest hair peeking out through his unbuttoned shirt collar and she was sure she was done. Right. There.

Emma realized there were muffled voices around her, and quickly came to before someone realized she was day-dreaming. Thankfully, the man in question had his entire focus on the host, apologizing profusely for his tardiness.

“I’m just glad you’re here, Killian,” Mary-Margaret said, smiling wide. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, love,” he breathed, wrapping his arms around her in a hug, and for heaven’s sakes Emma felt a jealousy she had no right or reason to feel. Mary-Margaret was in love with David for crying out loud! And who even was this guy?

She took a moment to be relieved no one had caught her ogling, then proceeded to accidentally ogle more when Killian greeted the others.

It wasn’t until she saw...eyes...blue eyes...looking right into hers...that she finally snapped out of it.

“Um,” Emma shook her head, feeling her entire body go numb.

Thankfully Mary-Margaret saved her, with or without knowing it. “Oh, Killian, this is my best friend Emma,” she said, walking over and wrapping an arm around her. “From Storybrooke.”

Killian, who was now looking at her like a deer caught in the headlights, shook his head so minutely Emma was probably the only one who noticed. Then his face broke out in a stunning grin and he took a step forward.

“Aye,” he said, sticking his hand out. “Pleasure to finally meet you, Ms. Swan.”

Emma shook his hand, smiling slightly. His hand was warm. “You too, Mr. Jones.”

His lips twitched.

She blushed.

Who was this man?

X X

KILLIAN JONES

Emma Swan. The name had been thrown around quite a bit in the years he had known David and Mary-Margaret, but he truly wasn’t prepared for the blonde goddess that greeted him that evening. He had planned on blowing off Mary-Margaret and David’s dinner invitation that night, in no mood to sit through hours of menial small talk. But he knew he’d disappointed his friends enough times; he didn’t have too many chances left.

But that had in no way factored in Emma Swan, with her tight jeans and long, blonde hair and her heartbreakingly beautiful smile, with eyes so green he wanted to sit and stare at them for a little while to memorize all the hues.

Killian cursed himself for his ridiculous thoughts and promptly accepted the beer Robin handed him.

She’s just a woman for bloody sake, he thought, taking a heavy swig.

It only took an hour into the evening, however, to understand Emma wasn’t like any other woman he had ever met. When he spoke, she looked directly into his eyes, even when it made him uncomfortable and he had to look away. When he looked back at her, she was always still gazing at him. Her presence was far too distracting and he was aware of her the entire night. When she laughed, gods above when she laughed, Killian actually had to bite his lip to keep from groaning out loud.

Bloody hell, he had a crush on her. Like some pre-pubescent lad in preparatory school. He couldn’t even remember the last time he had a crush, if he had ever had one. Killian had never really felt emotionally attached to a person; he had always been more comfortable initiating physical relationships.

A woman had never made Killian uneasy like this and he didn’t like it.

He knew he was in big trouble when he found himself purposely not answering her the first time she called his name simply because he wanted to hear her say it again.

So after dinner, when everyone else was pretty much three sheets to the wind and eating the remaining cheesecake straight from the tray, Killian excused himself to the kitchen to get some ‘water.’

At the sink, he downed two shots of tequila, and was pouring himself a third when he felt the air in the small space suddenly shift.

His shoulders went tight.

“Drinking alone?”

Killian swallowed hard and finished pouring the shot as he let out a humorless chuckle. He threw back the drink, barely wincing at the sting, before he composed himself and turned around.

Emma was leaning across the island, and bloody Christ he could see straight down her blouse, her arms pressing together, adding to the exposed cleavage. He quickly tore his eyes away and cursed internally again.

“Can I have one?” she asked.

Killian looked back at her and she gestured to the bottle of tequila and shot glass behind him. He raised an eyebrow, but grabbed the bottle and glass, placing them on the island between them.

She frowned when he only poured half a shot and he chuckled, shaking his head as he topped it off.

“Thank you,” she said, standing up straight. Killian sighed in relief when he could no longer see down her shirt.

“Drinking alone?” he couldn’t help but tease.

“I’m not alone. You’re right here with me,” she smiled, not breaking his gaze as she threw the shot back gracefully, setting the empty glass on the countertop with a clink.

X X

EMMA SWAN

“So what’s your story, Killian Jones?” she asked, reaching for the bottle and pouring another shot.

“I beg your pardon?” Killian leaned against the sink behind him and crossed his arms.

Emma shrugged, holding up the glass. “Everyone was surprised that you came. Why is that?”

“No story, I’m afraid. Just ol’ chaps happy to see one another, I suppose.” He smiled and, despite only having met him a few hours ago, she could instantly tell he was lying.

Emma finished half the shot before sliding the half-full glass towards him. Killian quirked an eyebrow at her again, a habit she was growing to really like, before gently pushing off the sink and taking the drink. Emma watched him down the rest in one go, admiring the way his Adam's apple bobbed and his throat muscles contracted as he swallowed.

“I don’t buy it,” Emma continued, the alcohol essentially evaporating any filter she had left. “I think there’s something Detective Jones isn’t telling me.” She swayed slightly, leaning her hands on the countertop as she tilted her head at him.

Killian scratched the back of his ear and let out a nervous chuckle. “Why so curious, love?” he asked, placing the empty shot glass back on the counter between them.

She bit her lip and shrugged, reaching for the bottle of tequila and gasping when his hand suddenly covered hers.

“Enough of that, love.”

Emma looked up at the endearment, throat clenching at the fire behind his eyes.

“You call all the girls ‘love,’ love?” she challenged in a far more menacing tone than she intended.

She quirked her eyebrow and reveled in the way his mouth fell open in shock. Emma tore her hand away from his and reached for the bottle again, grabbing the shot glass with her other hand and pouring a very generous shot.

“By the way, buddy,” she added, “nobody tells me what to do but me.”

And very spitefully, Emma took the shot in one go, not even wincing, and setting the glass on the counter with a louder clink.

When she looked up, Killian was leaning back against the sink again with his arms crossed and an almost challenging look on his face before it melted into a sweet smile.

“Point taken,” he said.

“So. Are you ever going to answer my question?”

“What question was that, love?”

Emma narrowed her eyes at him. “Don’t play games with me.” She knew she was drunk, but he was definitely trying to be cute with her.

“But I’m quite fond of games,” he grinned, biting his lip.

Well, shit.

“What’s your favorite?” she asked almost breathlessly, her eyes glazing over ever so slightly.

“Game?” he asked quietly.

Emma shrugged and met his gaze with a small smirk, definitely enjoying this game. “Aye aye, Captain.”

His smile faded and he clenched his jaw, swallowing hard. And just like that the air in the room shifted.

She wanted him. And if she was reading that dark look in his eyes correctly, he wanted her, too.

But she didn’t have time to explore that further, because the moment she took a step to go around the counter he was standing up straight and running a hand through his hair.

“I should probably get back in there,” he said, his accent coming on thicker than before.

It snapped Emma out of her haze. “Oh. Yeah. Right.”

She expected him to say something more, but instead he just gave her an insincere, tight-lipped smile before all but bolting out of the room.

Emma went to the bathroom and splashed cold water on her face to gain her bearings before rejoining everyone in the living room where Regina was loudly demanding more card games and Killian had occupied the lone Lazy Boy.

It might have just been her drunken haze, but Emma could swear Killian did everything in his power to stay away from her the rest of the night.

X X

KILLIAN JONES

He thought once she was out of sight, she would be out of mind. But Killian couldn’t stop seeing Emma Swan’s smile every time he closed his eyes.

He washed down two valiums with a swig of rum so he could have a dreamless sleep that night and stop thinking about her. He told himself the infatuation would fade come morning, that he’d literally sleep it all off.

Killian got up first thing in the morning and jogged the two miles to the gym, lifted weights for 45 minutes, and jogged the two miles back. By the time he was in the shower and the hot water was streaming down his tense back, he felt completely exhausted. He dressed in comfortable sweats and put some laundry away. When he was closing his dresser drawer, one of his picture frames sitting atop the drawer fell over.

Killian sighed and picked it up, but froze when he realized it was the photo of him when he had just graduated the police academy. His older brother, Liam—Killian’s throat felt like it was closing up—had saved all of his money for months to pay for their mother to make the trip to see him graduate, all the way from London. It had been her first time and only time to the States.

Killian’s jaw clenched and he snapped his eyes shut at the sudden onslaught of painful memories. He shook his head after a moment, rolled his shoulders, and opened his eyes, once again fixing his gaze on the picture in front of him.

Killian stood, smiling proudly in his uniform. His mother and brother were both at his side, beaming with pride at his accomplishment and they just looked so...happy. His mother had just gotten the news that her cancer was back, but she insisted she wouldn’t miss Killian’s ‘milestone.’

She’d come all this way to see me, just to...

Killian swallowed those memories down, shook them off, and opened the top drawer of the dresser. He shoved the picture frame underneath some t-shirts in the very back, face down, before slamming it shut. He allowed a couple minutes to recollect himself before taking a deep breath and letting it all roll off his shoulders.

x x

It was a week later that he unexpectedly saw Emma Swan again.

He and David were in the middle of staking out a hotel when Killian decided to grab a couple of coffees. When he spotted her, he quickly backed out of the coffee shop like a bloody coward, but a man and his two kids were walking in. The apologies and slight commotion attracted attention, and before he knew it his eyes were locked on breathtaking green once again.

Killian shook his head at himself, apologizing to the family one last time, before stepping in line behind Emma, who was looking at him with an amused expression. He felt his cheeks blush as he slid his hands into his jean pockets.

“Emma,” he said, enjoying the way her name sounded on his tongue more than he had any right to. “I, uh, didn’t see you there.”

Emma smiled wider and crossed her arms. “Clearly you didn’t see anyone.”

Killian couldn’t help but choke out a laugh as he scratched the spot behind his ear. “Aye, I’m a bit out of sorts when I don’t have my afternoon coffee.”

Emma nodded as the barista called her next. She smiled at Killian and quickly ordered. Killian allowed himself a brief moment to take her in because his memory of this woman did not do her justice in the slightest.

She was wearing those damn tight jeans again, which emphasized a pert bottom he hadn’t had the pleasure of admiring before, and a red leather jacket that hugged her curves so...so bloody well.

Killian heard a throat clearing and looked up to see the man with two kids looking at him with a hard glare and he realized he’d been caught staring. He felt himself blush red for the second time, before he looked down and scratched that stubborn spot behind his ear again.

At the counter with all of the sweeteners and creams, Killian tried not to stand too close to her, or let on the way her sweet perfume was making him dizzy. He blinked quickly as she asked about the case he and David were working on.

“Is it serious? Or, I’m sorry, you can’t discuss ongoing investigations with me,” she said, shaking her head as she poured an obscene amount of sugar in her coffee, followed by a generous amount of Half and Half. He couldn’t help but smile to himself as he looked back down at the coffee he was stirring with a small straw.

“It’s alright, love,” Killian finally said when he realized she was looking up at him expectantly. “It’s a harmless stakeout. Recon really, but nothing to worry about nonetheless.”

He finished fixing David’s coffee the way he liked and poured just a tiny bit of cream in his own before grabbing both coffees.

“Well, duty calls I’m afraid.” He managed a smile despite his nerves—he couldn’t help feeling like he was going to do something else to utterly embarrass himself.

Emma nodded and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Yeah. I’m just on my way to class.”

“Ah, taking the subway?” he found himself asking, even though he should have been walking away.

Emma scrunched her nose with an adorable, self-deprecating smile.

Bloody hell, Jones, adorable?

“Yeah,” she shrugged. “I’m getting used to it. It’s not too far so, baby steps.” She smiled and his heart clenched. “I miss driving my bug though. She’s just parked in the garage.”

She looked so calm and peaceful then, obviously lost in thought, and Killian had no problem taking advantage of the moment to take a mental photograph of her face.

His buzzing phone, of course, had other ideas. He cursed as he set down the coffees and grabbed it from his back pocket.

“David,” he told her, smiling apologetically.

She nodded and forced a small smile. “Yeah. You should go. I’ve gotta get going anyway.” Emma nodded again and clutched her drink closer to her chest, her smile growing smaller but still just as breathtaking. “Tell David ‘hi.’”

“As you wish.”

They stared at each other for a few seconds, neither of them saying anything, before he nodded once more and finally left.

He could still smell her perfume as he sat in the patrol car beside David, sipping his coffee and unable to stop himself from thinking about the one thing he knew he shouldn’t.

X X

EMMA SWAN

“Can I ask you something?” Emma started, keeping her eyes focused on the task at hand, but her attention on her best friend seated beside her.

“Of course,” Mary-Margaret said, her voice distracted as she too was paying more attention to the menu in front of her.

They were both starving.

“Who is Killian dating again?” she asked, keeping her voice level and measured as she struggled to focus on the words and pictures before her. She zeroed in on an entree titled ‘Wacky Wahoo Tacos’ and kept reading it over and over again to try and keep her composure.

But Mary-Margaret wasn’t buying her casual attitude and Emma should have known her friend better.

“Excuse me?” she asked. Emma looked up and saw her friend looking at her with a glint in her eyes and a wide grin on her face.

Emma shook her head and rolled her eyes. “What is that look for?”

“Nothing,” she said, resting her arms on the table and leaning forward. “So. You like Killian.” And just like that, Mary-Margaret was no longer hungry.

“Um, no. I’ve just met a few of your friends this last month, and I’m refreshing my memory on all of them,” she said, taking a sip of her drink. “Regina is married to Robin, right? Do they have any kids, by the way?”

Mary-Margaret shook her head, her grin somehow growing even wider. “No, they don’t have any kids yet. And Killian is not seeing anyone. As far as I know, he’s single. But nice job trying to change the subject.”

“Oh. Okay,” Emma said with a forced casualness that was almost painful. “Thanks for the information.”

“Oh, you’re welcome,” she said, “but we’re not finished talking about this.”

“We are, because David is here,” Emma said, spotting him over her friend’s shoulder and smiling smugly.

Mary-Margaret greeted him happily, and Emma hugged him before he joined them, ordering a tequila shot and a Corona.

“Are we celebrating something, David?” Emma smiled as his drinks arrived.

“Long week,” he sighed, taking the shot first.

“Emma and I were just talking about Killian,” Mary-Margaret said, stirring the straw in her margarita innocently.

Maybe Emma should have also known better than to bring this topic up when her friend was already one drink in.

David’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Why were you talking about Killian?” he asked, taking a swig of beer.

Emma shook her head, trying to mask her frustration at her friend. “We weren’t. I was just asking where you were.”

“David, let’s set them up,” Mary-Margaret said wistfully.

David almost spit out his beer, and it would have been funny if Emma wasn’t so damn mortified.

“What?” David laughed uncomfortably. “You like Killian?” he asked, fixing those baby blues on her.

“No. I don’t,” she said firmly. “I was just wondering if he was seeing someone, if there was someone you guys still hadn’t introduced me to,” she babbled, shrugging like an idiot.

“He’s not, nor do I think he ever will be,” David said seriously, taking a long pull from his drink.

Mary-Margaret laughed, obviously thinking he was joking. She elbowed him gently in the side. “David.”

But Emma’s interest was piqued. She hadn’t missed David’s sudden change in posture.

“Why do you say that?” Emma asked.

“Look, Emma, just don’t get close to Killian...in that way. I just don’t think he’s the kinda guy you wanna date.” She could tell the topic was making David uncomfortable, but Emma couldn’t let it go.

“Okay, Dad,” she said, adding a light laugh to make her tone less cutting. It probably didn’t work so she took a sip of her drink to pretend she was relaxed. “I turn...mmm...29 this year? Practically a grown adult,” she couldn’t help but mock.

David sighed. “I know that, it’s just...I know Killian, okay? You don’t. His relation...sss with women, it’s…” Their eyes met and Emma raised her eyebrows dramatically. “Killian’s life is...complicated and you don’t need that.”

Part of her wanted to argue that the topic was moot, that she didn’t like him that way anyway. But Emma couldn’t deny her feelings, couldn’t push them back down. And—inexplicably—the urge to defend Killian was stronger than anything else.

“That’s a hell of a way to speak about your partner, David,” she couldn’t help but snap. David sighed, a guilt-stricken look crossing his face, but before he could respond Emma pressed on, “And thank you for telling me what I need in my life, but I think that’s unfair. Especially since Killian has been nothing but nice to me and he’s not even here to defend himself.”

“Emma…” David began again.

But that was the moment their server arrived to take their food orders. By the time their orders were taken and their menus collected, the three of them were left in the tension once again.

Emma decided to finish the conversation before it could start again. “I appreciate your concern, David, I do,” she said calmly. “But I don’t think we should talk about it anymore. Let’s just eat.”

Mary-Margaret nodded and raised her drink, looking at David with a soft smile. He nodded and forced a small smile before clinking his beer bottle with their drinks in a silent cheers.

The rest of dinner went by fairly quickly and at the end of the night, when they were saying their goodbyes at the front of the restaurant, Mary-Margaret wrapped Emma in a tight hug and whispered, “Don’t listen to David.”

Emma pulled away to look at her friend, but Mary-Margaret quickly kissed her cheek—loud and smacking—and hopped into the waiting cab before she could say anything.

She snapped out of it when David hugged her goodbye and as she watched the taxi drive away, Emma couldn’t ignore how the red brake lights morphed into blue eyes.

x x

After her British Literature lecture Thursday evening, Emma decided to stop at the supermarket a block from the subway to grab a few things.

She was looking for the cashew ice cream she liked when she saw him. He didn’t notice her, busy looking down at his phone with furrowed eyebrows, but he was clearly frustrated, his other hand clutching a basket.

All in a matter of seconds, a thousand thoughts flew through Emma’s mind.

He was so damn handsome, in his tight black jeans, black boots, and black t-shirt. His hair was slightly disheveled and when he ran his fingers through it, it turned Emma on way more than it should. She couldn’t help but bite her lip.

Quickly, she decided to turn around and just avoid him altogether, but just as she turned away from him, he was calling her name. Emma froze in place and took three deep breaths before slowly turning around.

“Hi,” she smiled, voice trembling slightly.

His crooked grin melted her insides. “Hi. How are you, love?”

She’d heard him refer to other women as ‘love,’ yet when it was directed towards her...it felt like it meant more. The way he looked at her made her feel different; different than when he looked at Regina or Mary-Margaret. It certainly wasn’t a way any other man had ever looked at her —it was as if she was the focal point of the room, and nothing else mattered.

Damn, Swan, stop romanticizing everything.

“I’m good, um, just picking up a few things on the way to the subway,” she said.

Mary-Margaret had mentioned to her in passing that Killian lived in this neighborhood, but the thought had only casually crossed her mind as she entered the store. The fact that she was actually bumping into him here was just…

Does the universe want me to keep finding you? Emma couldn’t help but wonder, tilting her head at Killian.

“It’s late to be taking the subway home,” he suddenly said, eyebrows furrowed.

His smooth, velvet voice startled her slightly, but when his words connected she couldn’t help but smile. “I appreciate your concern, but I’ve done it the last couple months without a problem. Plus,” she looked down at her watch and shook her head, “it’s only six p.m.”

“Aye, but it gets dark, love,” he said, placing his phone in his back pocket and switching his basket to the other hand.

Emma crossed her arms over her chest. This time her smile was less sincere. “I’m a grown woman.”

Killian snorted and shook his head, looking away, and it annoyed and attracted her at the same time.

Infatuation. That’s what this was. She was infatuated with him.

He, of course, was completely oblivious to the war inside Emma’s head and turned to her once again with a rueful smile.

“You know, you don’t have to assume every time somebody expresses concern for you, they’re questioning your ability as a capable adult.”

Emma swallowed, taken aback before she glanced down at his basket and noted the bottle of rum and box of crackers.

“Why, you’re an adventurous eater,” she said with a smug smile, challenging him.

Killian’s eyebrows shot up in surprise—at what, she wasn’t quite sure—and he shifted from one foot to the other with a smile, looking almost amused.

“And you are very adept at changing the subject.”

Emma shrugged and smiled sweetly. “I deal with students all day. I know how to direct a conversation.”

“Aye. And what else do you know how to do, lass?” he asked, tongue darting out to wet his lips.

Her breath caught in her throat and her thighs actually clenched slightly as she stood there.

They had had conversations over the last couple of months and the flirty banter was always there, but Killian always put the brakes on it when Emma would take a step towards him, try to get closer, or instigate any type of physical contact. He even hugged Regina and Mary-Margaret when she was around, but somehow always managed to avoid hugging her without anyone noticing.

But she always noticed. And it always stung. Then she would catch his eye and it was almost as if he couldn’t help but smile at her.

Sometimes she’d push him just to see how far he would let her.

Maybe today, Emma could push a little bit harder.

She cleared her throat. “I guess...you just have to find out.” She rocked back and forth on her heels and chanced a glance at him through her lashes.

Despite her lame response, Killian took a step towards her, raising an eyebrow and looking at her with an expression that was far too salacious for a grocery store.

“Is that right?” he breathed, his voice gruff as his eyes danced across her face. His expression was a mixture of surprise, lust, and—as always—hesitation.

Emma swallowed hard. He was still nowhere near enough yet far too close.

“What are you doing?” she asked, tilting her head to the side. She felt like he was teasing her, trying to call her bluff, trying to push her.

Emma decided she was done playing games. She was attracted to him. For God’s sake, if he asked her to go home with him right now she would.

His sexy smirk was still in place. “I’m not sure what you mean, love.”

But when his tone indicated he knew exactly what he was doing, Emma could no longer control herself. She took a step forward, except she didn’t stop at one. She took the remaining steps, until there was only an inch separating them, and it clearly caught Killian off guard. He didn’t move a muscle, but she heard his breath hitch when their chests barely touched. Even with the layers of clothes between them, it somehow felt like an electric spark coursed through her at his proximity.

“Do you want to take me home?” she found herself asking.

Emma couldn’t believe that for the first time in her life, she finally said exactly what she was thinking in the moment.

“What?” Killian’s question was a mere whisper.

Emma took a small step closer, closing the miniscule space between them and startling him in the process. She was sure anyone who saw them, standing in the middle of the ice cream aisle practically writhing against one another, would assume they were both on something.

But in that moment, as impulsive as it may have been, Emma didn’t care.

“Because,” she breathed, her chest practically heaving. But his was too, “because I’d go home with you...right now...if you asked me to.”

Killian’s eyes searched hers for what felt like an eternity. She felt like she was shaking, maybe she was, but she didn’t back down. The seconds ticked by, and she couldn’t take not knowing what was going through his mind.

“Killian?”

Emma jumped back from him so quickly she was impressed she didn’t hurt herself. She looked up in time to see the owner of the voice—a petite woman in a black mini-dress and lace sandals that tied in patterns to her knees—rounded the corner and spotted him.

“There you are,” she smiled, looking down at the bag of chips she was turning over in her hands as she walked over to him. She had wavy, shiny brown hair and sun-kissed skin. She was gorgeous.

God, Emma felt so stupid and embarrassed. She had felt so victorious when she had thrown herself at this man and all along he had been there with somebody else. And a knockout, at that.

The woman touched Killian’s arm and looked up when she reached them, noticing Emma.

“Oh. Hi,” she said with a smile. “I’m Cecilia.”

“Emma.” She smiled tightly at her and crossed her arms over her chest, wishing this was just a nightmare and she could snap herself out of it.

“Nice to meet you,” Cecilia said before turning to Killian. “I’m tired. Are you ready to go home?”

Emma noticed Killian visibly flinch at her words and that was when she decided to take back control.

“Alright, Killian, it was nice seeing you. Have a good one.”

Okay, it may not have exactly been ‘taking control,’ or her most graceful exit, but Emma didn’t give a damn what she looked like to anyone else in that moment. She didn’t even wait for a response, didn’t buy a single thing, as she hauled ass out of the store. All she wanted was to get the hell away from them.

Emma didn’t look over her shoulder or stop until she was on the subway. She found an empty seat and all but fell down into it.

She had never felt so small.

X X

KILLIAN JONES

Bloody hell.

“Who was that?” Cecilia asked as they stepped out onto the curb outside the grocery store.

“Don’t worry about it,” Killian said.

Cecilia was a nice enough woman he’d known for a couple of years. She was a district attorney who used to work in New York, but was reassigned to Washington D. C. On the rare occasion she was in town, she never hesitated to call Killian.

And Killian usually didn’t hesitate to agree.

But that night, when Cecilia called and asked to take him to dinner, Killian’s response wasn’t enthusiastic as usual. It was mechanical. He needed a distraction from Emma Swan.

The night had gone like it usually did with women; they had a nice dinner, polite conversation. Then she placed her hand on his knee under the table and he put his arm around her shoulders and they both knew how the night was going to end.

Now Killian couldn’t help but curse his suggestion to stop at the market on the way home, but he was completely dry and knew he didn’t want to be caught at home without a bottle of rum. When he saw Emma, he completely forgot Cecilia.

Bloody hell, that sounded terrible, even in his own head.

But Killian had quickly realized that when Emma was in the room, he quickly forgot about everything else.

He hadn’t even bothered calling her name when she fled, only cursing himself for being so damn stupid.

“Listen,” Killian said after a moment, “I’m going to get you a cab, and pay for it, to take you back to your hotel.”

Cecilia scoffed. “What? You’re kidding, right?”

“No. I’m not.”

“Why?”

Killian shook his head and looked down the street for a taxi.

“It’s that woman, isn’t it?” she asked, her tone suddenly curious. “Killian Jones, I never thought I would see the day!”

Killian wasn’t in the mood for the teasing tone in her voice. “Please just let it go.”

Cecilia eyed him for a moment, and just when he thought she would continue, she sighed and nodded. “Alright. See you next time, then,” she said.

But Killian doubted that she would.

He hailed her a cab, but she rejected his offer to pay for it. As he watched the taillights from the taxi driving away, there was only one thing on his mind.

x x

Killian was a coward for not calling her. It had been almost a week since their awkward encounter at the grocery store and though he could have used his resources as a detective to get her telephone number, could have procured it under innocent pretenses from Mary-Margaret, something had stopped him.

It had been a long time since he had felt shame and even longer since someone made him insecure about their opinion of him.

Bloody hell, she probably thinks you’re a right git.

Thankfully, Killian saw an opportunity to forget about Emma Swan for a little while when David told them they were going drinking when their shift ended. As always, fate had other plans because after he and David took their first shot, trouble walked in in the form of Emma Swan.

“Bloody hell,” he couldn’t help but mutter.

But David didn’t notice because a second later his phone buzzed with a text as Mary-Margaret stepped inside behind Emma, looking down at her cell. He took a long pull from his beer as David turned around with a smile to wave them over.

“Hey, you,” he said, standing up to wrap Mary-Margaret in his arms before hugging Emma.

Killian chanced a glance at her, but she was careful to keep her gaze away from him, so he greeted Mary-Margaret with a warm ‘hello.’

“Don’t worry, we’re not crashing your boys’ night,” Mary-Margaret teased him. “Emma and I were just having dinner down the street so we thought we’d pop in and say ‘hi.’

“No, come on. Stay,” David said before Killian could respond. “I’ll miss you if you leave.” David snuggled Mary-Margret and gave her loud, teasing kisses on her cheek as she laughed and tried half-heartedly to fight him off.

Killian looked away, feeling like he was trespassing on a private moment. When he glanced at Emma he found she too was averting her gaze, her focus suddenly on the drinks behind the bar.

“Alright. One drink?” Mary-Margaret asked.

Emma turned to her friend when she realized she was talking to her. She smiled and gave a quick shake of her head. “I’m really tired, I think I’m just going to head out,” she said apologetically.

“No,” Mary-Margaret pleaded. “Just one drink.”

“I can’t,” she said, scrunching her nose at her best friend who, after a moment, finally sighed and relented.

“Fine, but we’re getting you a cab,” Mary-Margaret told her sternly.

As Emma began shaking her head and arguing that she was perfectly capable of taking the subway home, Killian downed the rest of his beer and set the empty bottle on the table before standing up.

“It’s alright. I’d be happy to take the subway with you,” he said before he even realized what the hell he was doing.

Emma’s head whipped around to him with the most confused expression. She began quickly shaking her head at him. “No, that’s fine, I—”

“Believe me, I’d rather be home in bed than be the third wheel with these two,” he said lightly, praying to the gods he didn’t sound as nervous as he felt.

When Emma seemed to realize it was the only way to get her friends off her back, she finally agreed. He didn’t miss the way Mary-Margaret smiled at Emma when she thought he wasn’t looking and he certainly didn’t miss the hard stare David gave him as he followed Emma out of the bar.

x x

They walked for about five minutes in awkward silence.

“You know,” Emma said. “I was leaving the bar to avoid you. Not to have you escort me home.”

He peeked over at her as he slid his hands into his pockets, but her arms were crossed tightly against her chest and she kept her eyes down as she walked. He turned his head away again and clenched his jaw.

“The irony,” he chuckled. When she didn’t respond, he sighed and tried another tactic. Killian stopped and grabbed her arm gently.

Emma stopped, but the glare she threw at him was enough to make him drop her arm like it was lit dynamite.

“Listen, Emma, I just wanted to apologize,” he began.

She turned to face him fully, re-crossing her arms with a shrug. “For what?”

He couldn’t help but scratch behind his ear and avert his gaze. “I just fear...you may have gotten the wrong idea the other night.”

He heard her sigh and shuffle her feet. “Killian, please, can we not do this?”

Killian looked up at her and shook his head. “Emma…”

She took a step back and held her hands up in front of her, as if to keep him away. “I said we’re not doing this, okay? It’s none of my business. Don’t worry. We’re good.”

Emma fixed him with another hard glare and he could do nothing but stare back, swallowing the giant lump in his throat. After a moment, she turned on her heel and began walking away again.

“Besides,” she threw over her shoulder, “you were just grocery shopping with your girlfriend. Picture of complete domesticity if you ask me.”

Killian all but growled as he hurried after her.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” he said desperately, almost bumping into her when she suddenly whirled back around to face him.

“I don’t care!” she yelled, her frustration at the tipping point.

“If you don’t bloody care, then why are you being like this?” he demanded, his own ire rising to the surface along with hers.

“Like what?” she laughed angrily.

“Hostile,” he said.

“Killian, this is as civil as I can be with you!”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means I practically jumped you in the middle of a grocery store—and you flirted back, by the way—and the whole time, you were there with another woman!That’s...that’s skeezy as hell, you know that right?” Her chest was heaving and she looked at him like she was completely at a loss, as if she was truly waiting for him to give her the answer she needed.

“Yes, Emma, I know that,” he said, scrambling for the right things to say. “I just...She doesn’t mean...I mean, she isn’t…” He growled in frustration as she shook her head and looked away. When she wouldn’t meet his gaze, he whispered the only thing he was thinking, “She isn’t you.”

Slowly, so slowly he thought it might be slow-motion, she turned her head to look at him. She searched his eyes for what felt like eternity and he became restless and insecure under her gaze. But he held fast and didn’t look away like he usually did, hoping to show her what he couldn’t quite say with words.

I want you.

Give me a chance.

I’m sorry.

Don’t walk away…

But she was taking too long to say something and he knew that meant something bad. With a heavy sigh and even heavier heart, Killian turned around, shoulders slumped. He slipped his hands in his pockets and wondered where the nearest liquor store was.

He only made it about halfway down the street when he felt a warm hand grab his arm. A second later, Emma Swan was stepping in front of him. But Killian had no time to respond, because she wasted no time wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her lips to his.

And by gods if there was a heaven on Earth for Killian Jones, kissing Emma Swan would be it.

X X

EMMA SWAN

Her place was closer, he said, and they ended up taking a taxi, neither of them wanting to wait the long trip on the subway.

His hand was hot on her thigh the entire way and she rested her head on his shoulder, now and then trailing kisses up his neck to his ear, reveling in the way he shivered at the touch of her lips, disbelieving that she was finally this close to him.

She barely noticed him give the driver some bills, and the ride in the elevator was silent and charged. At her apartment door she fumbled with her keys as he placed kisses on her neck and bare shoulders, his hands gripping her waist, and his hard arousal brushing against her lower back. For a moment she abandoned her keys in the lock as she moaned low and pressed back into him, biting her lip when he groaned as her backside rubbed against his growing erection. Her leggings left very little barrier between her and his jean-clad erection.

She shivered as his hand trailed down her arm, to her hand brushing against her key still dangling in the lock. Somehow while kissing her neck, Killian also managed to effortlessly unlock her front door and push it open. Emma almost stumbled inside, but Killian wrapped his arm around her waist before she could fall.

“Oh,” she sighed, falling back into him and snuggling closer when he resumed his previous ministrations.

Kicking the door shut with his foot and then flipping it locked, Killian whirled Emma around in his arms, lips curving up at her gasp of surprise. He backed her further into the apartment, leaving very little space between their bodies, and making them stumble along the way.

“Where is your bedroom, love?” he whispered against her throat, his tongue darting out to lick a trail up to her chin.

She moaned again and shamelessly rubbed herself against him, enjoying the way her hardening nipples rubbed against his hard chest through the fabric of her shirt.

“Emma,” he sighed against her cheek, sending chills down her spine. “Bedroom…”

Emma barely breathed out, “Down the hall to the left,” before she was squealing, then moaning wantonly as his hands gripped her ass firmly and lifted her off the ground.

She peppered kisses all over his face and neck, clawing at his back as he carried her to her bedroom. She trailed one hand down his arms, loving the way they flexed under her touch, the way his muscles contracted as her fingers brushed over the hair on his forearms.

She let out a huff when he tossed her on the center of her bed. She bounced as he chuckled and crawled in after her, his hands moving up her sides, firmer, more sure than before. Emma couldn’t help but cry out as his hand cupped her breast tightly, massaging it as his mouth found hers once more.

She melted into him almost instantly, her hands sliding up his shoulders and wrapping around him as she opened her mouth to his. Killian moaned as his tongue entered her mouth, dancing with hers. It felt like all of the passion and fire and urge they had been pushing down for each other the last couple of months was being poured into that kiss.

Killian moaned again when her hands fisted through his hair, pulling gently. Her legs fell open and Killian slipped between them easily, grinding his hard cock against her, all pretense of foreplay gone as she rubbed against her wet, cotton-covered center.

But Emma wanted to feel him and she told him so in a breathy moan, and he growled and a moment later they were both naked, his long, thick cock rubbing shamelessly against her sopping wet sex.

Emma cried out as Killian bit her chin gently, his breath coming out in harsh pants as they rubbed against each other wantonly, dragging their lips across neck, shoulder, chest. His hand gripped her thigh and she bit her lip as his tip slipped inside her.

He hissed and pulled back as if he’d been burned, his head falling to her chest as his back rose with heavy breaths.

“Sorry, sorry,” he whispered in a rush before looking up and rolling his hips against her wet center again. His eyes darted down, careful not to accidentally slip into her again. He looked back up at her, his cheeks flushed and his eyes almost completely black. “The things you do to me, love,” he continued in a whisper.

“Killian,” she moaned, both of her hands now gripping his hips, her palms sweaty and making her slip.

“Condom,” be breathed.

“No,” she whined, kissing his scruffy cheek as she lifted her hips to meet his thrusts. “No condom. I’m on the pill. I’m clean. Are you?”

Killian nodded and clenched his jaw again as he stopped his slow thrusts, covering her body with his while careful to keep most of his weight off of her. They both gasped when he covered her fully, because their sexes were pressed together so snug and perfect she never wanted to move.

Killian ran his finger down her cheek, tracing her lips. “Are you sure, Emma?” he whispered.

Emma could only nod, her entire body vibrating. She was sure if she spoke, it would be a shaking mess of words.

“I’ve never,” he swallowed and looked down, his finger falling to her collarbone. Emma furrowed her eyebrows at him and he gazed back up at her. “I’ve never been with a woman without protection before.”

“Me either,” she whispered.

Killian’s eyebrow ticked up and she giggled.

“I mean, I’ve never been with a man without protection before,” she said between breaths of laughter.

Killian smirked and leaned forward, pressing his lips to hers. This time when Killian’s tip slipped inside of her, it was with a moan from both of them as he pushed the rest of the way in.

He was larger than any lover she had ever had, and he filled her to the hilt, his pelvis resting against her ass as she reflexively clenched around him to adjust to his size. His moan of pleasure made her even wetter, and she could feel her arousal dripping down her thighs and she knew she would have to wash her sheets tomorrow.

She would have been embarrassed if it hadn't been for Killian’s whispered, “Fuck,” as he thrust into her experimentally, making her eyes roll back into her head. “You’re so bloody wet,” he said desperately, and then proceeded to fuck the living hell out of her.

Emma would have been worried her headboard banging against the wall would alert her neighbors, but his need turned her on to the point of not caring and she allowed him to play her body like a fucking drum.

X X

KILLIAN JONES

Killian had never spent the night at a woman’s place. Then again, there were a lot of things Killian had done the night before that he never thought he would do.

Kissing during sex.

Going down on a woman more than once. (Because damn he really really liked going down on Emma—the noises she made, the way her thighs gripped his head, and her hands pulled at his hair. Bloody hell.)

Not using a condom….

Having sex more than once in the same night...

They had sex three times before finally succumbing to sleep. Out of habit, Killian awoke just as the sun was rising. He could see the little bit of light peeking in through the blinds and his eyes darted to the floor searching for his pants when Emma stirred his arms.

Killian looked down at her, snuggled close to his chest, body half draped over him and his arm wrapped around her. It was a position he wasn’t very familiar with and he had been initially taken aback when she cuddled him after sex. But then the smell of her hair calmed him, and he found himself staring up at the ceiling as he stroked her arm.

Having her in his arms felt right and she fit against him like a puzzle piece.

Killian swallowed hard and looked up at the ceiling once more. He knew if he had something he cared about, he would do something to muck it up. It was just a matter of time.

X X

EMMA SWAN

Emma woke the following morning with an ache between her thighs and a full heart. There was a small smile on her face and she was so content she didn’t bother opening her eyes as she dragged her hand across the mattress. Her mouth turned down when she felt cold sheets between her fingers and she snapped her eyes open to see the spot beside her was empty.

Emma sat up, the sheet falling to her lap as she looked to the open bathroom. She didn’t hear any noise from the kitchen or living room and when she scanned her bedroom, she saw that the floor was free of their discarded clothing. Her clothes from the night before had been folded neatly and placed on the small loveseat in the corner of her room.

Her heart dropped at the realization that Killian fucked her and left her. All those sweet words the night before had been what? Bullshit lines to get in her pants? Had David been right about him all along?

Suddenly, an anger Emma had never experienced before filled her. The nerve of the man to clean up and then leave without a word. The nerve of him to make her feel wanted, safe, loved....

Emma shook her head and hopped out of bed, ripping her drawers open and pulling out a pair of yoga pants and a t-shirt. She threw her hair up into a ponytail, cursing the entire way to the foyer where she angrily slipped on her shoes. She figured the fifteen-minute walk to and from the coffee shop would calm her down a little bit.

She fumbled with her shoe laces, tears blurring her vision and burning her eyes as she wiped them away angrily and cursed Killian for the fiftieth time. She couldn't believe she had fallen for his charms, let him seduce and bed her like a fool.

She finally tied her shoes and got up with a sigh, rolled her shoulders back, and dipped her hand into the small bowl on the table to grab her keys. Her brows furrowed when they weren’t where she always left them and she cursed again when she realized she must have dropped them sometime last night in her drunken haze. She had been distracted…

Her ire rose again at the reason why and she wrenched the small drawer of the table open and grabbed one of her spare apartment keys, slipping it into her pocket. Emma opened her door, visions of hot chocolate with cinnamon dancing through her mind, but shrieked and jumped back slightly when she was met with the sight of Killian.

He was wearing his wrinkled clothes from the night before and holding a styrofoam cup holder with two hot cups and a small paper bag that smelled heavenly. She then noticed the key in his hand with a very familiar Swan keychain.

“Killian,” she breathed in confusion.

His face broke into an easy smile as he blushed slightly. “Apologies, lass. I hope you don’t mind I borrowed your key to go grab us some breakfast…”

The sentence was barely finished before Emma stepped forward, resting her hand on his shoulder to steady herself as she kissed him. Their lips met a few times, passionate, before she pulled back.

He was smiling, breathless, as he gazed back at her with those shining blue eyes. “I...I noticed you put a lot of sugar in your coffee so...I just grabbed half of the packets in the basket and—”

His nervousness and babbling was so freaking endearing and Emma could only giggle and kiss his lips again.

“Mmm,” he hummed, following her when she pulled back. “I could get used to that.”

Emma smiled wider and bit her lip. “Fine by me.”

x x

Killian ended up spending the rest of the weekend at Emma’s place and it was perpetual bliss. They were in their own little bubble with no one to watch them or question them. They could just be.

“Killian?” she said on Sunday night as they sat on the couch and Killian prepared to leave. He had an early shift the following morning.

He looked down at her. “Aye?”

She snuggled closer to him and his arm tightened around her. “Thank you for staying,” she said.

He smiled slightly and whispered, “Thank you for letting me.”

He left that night after spending about twenty minutes kissing her in the foyer and another fifteen in the doorway as she latched onto him and peppered his face with wet kisses, making him chuckle and hold her closer.

x x

Emma knew not to get her hopes up. She didn’t ask her friends about Killian too much—not wanting to betray his trust—but one of the few things she knew about him from Mary-Margaret and Regina was that he had never had a long-term relationship. She also knew he had walls a mile high and was guarded as hell. He had a past that weighed on him, she could see that, and she didn’t want to push him too much.

Which was why Emma was very pleasantly surprised to see a text from him after her Monday night lecture.

Can I come see you tonight?

Emma felt her entire body light up like a switch and she couldn’t help grinning down at her phone like an idiot as she typed out a response:

My place?

She was surprised when her phone chimed in her hand less than a minute later with his reply:

Just tell me what time and I’ll be there.

x x

It was a little over a week into their...whatever it was...that Emma finally got a chance to talk to Mary-Margaret. She had been busy with a new client on the Upper West Side and hadn’t had a moment to herself for a while.

Minutes into their conversation, Mary-Margaret became excitedly suspicious about Emma’s obvious good mood.

“Oh my god,” Mary-Margaret said on the other line, “are you seeing someone?”

Emma sighed and shook her head as her phone vibrated in her hand. She pulled it away from her ear, smiling when she saw it was a text from Killian.

I can still smell you on my skin.

Her thighs clenched as she heard her friend yelling her name on the other end. Emma brought the phone back to her ear with a shake of her head and an apology.

“So, are you going to tell me who the guy is?” her friend pressed.

“No!” Emma squealed before she could stop herself.

“Aha! So there is a guy!”

“Mary-Margaret, don’t push me…”

Her friend let out an exasperated sigh. “Alright, fine. But you’ll tell me soon?”

Emma scrunched up her nose even though her friend couldn't see. “Maybe.”

“Jesus, you’re the worst,” she laughed. “By the by, we’re having a Friday night dinner this week, finally,” she sighed. “Will you come? You can bring your man friend.”

“That’s very nice of you. I can’t speak for my man friend, but I will be there,” she said, enjoying teasing her friend a little too much.

“I hate you,” Mary-Margaret muttered.

“Should I bring pecan pie?” Emma switched topics.

Sure as fire, it worked.

“You know it,” Mary-Margaret said. “Don’t be late.”

“Would never even dream of it.”

When they hung up, Emma looked down at her phone and felt moisture pool between her legs at the words on the screen:

I can still taste you on my tongue.

x x

Everyone was surprised when Killian showed up to dinner Friday night with a smile on his face and a bottle of wine in his hand. Emma watched as he kissed Mary-Margaret on the cheek and then greeted the others. When his eyes fell to her, she felt a blush creep up her neck.

“So,” Robin said, slapping a hand on Killian’s shoulder playfully. “What made you grace us with your presence this evening?”

“He just came for the free food,” Regina joked with a smirk.

Killian chuckled, looking slightly uncomfortable as his eyes darted back to Emma again. Emma quickly looked away, but winced upon hearing Mary-Margaret’s gasp.

Her friend, she knew, was a clever one.

“What?” David asked her, taking a pull from his beer.

Emma looked to her best friend sheepishly because it didn’t feel right hiding it. Not from Mary-Margaret, not from anyone.

But what if Killian doesn’t feel the same?

“Emma?” Regina prompted.

Emma realized everyone was looking between her and Killian, confused, suspicious, and curious as hell. David, however, looked more furious than anything.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

David’s roar was the last thing Emma heard clearly, because the next few seconds happened very fast. David dropped his beer bottle to the floor and it shattered with a loud crash as he lunged at Killian. Mary-Margaret screamed out as Regina raised her glass of wine and moved away from them.

“David!” Emma tried to scream, but her throat was dry. She cleared it, watching in horror as David pushed Killian roughly against the counter, grabbing him by his leather jacket so hard she was sure it would rip.

Emma took a step forward, but Robin was beside her in an instant, holding her back.

“I told you not her!” David yelled in Killian’s face.

“David,” Mary-Margaret growled, shocking Emma with her hard tone.

“You really have no goddamn respect, do you?” David practically spat in his face.

Emma watched Killian wince and then he clenched his jaw. “Let me go, mate,” he said, his voice low, calm, controlled.

“Why? Why should I listen to you?” David shot back. “You clearly didn’t listen to me when I told you to stay away from Emma!”

“Bloody hell, she’s a grown woman. She can make her own decisions,” Killian growled, shoving David back.

He stumbled against the island before fixing his glare on Killian again. “Not when she doesn’t have all the facts,” he said.

Something in Killian’s face changed, his jaw locked, and he looked at David with the most murderous expression on his face. If she didn’t know any better, Emma would have been afraid of him.

A tense silence filled the room as all six of them stood in the aftermath of the altercation. After what felt like an eternity, Killian righted his jacket and took a step back.

“Killian, what is he talking about?” Emma asked him, her voice shaking.

Killian looked at her and the defeat she saw in his eyes nearly broke her heart. After a moment, he sighed and grabbed her hand, gently pulling her out of the apartment and into the hall.

Emma watched him close the door behind them before he turned to her, his eyes trained down at his shoes. After a moment, he reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a folded piece of paper. When he opened it and took a step towards her, she immediately closed the distance between them, looking down at his hand in confusion.

It was a wrinkled photograph of Killian in a police academy uniform holding a diploma. On one side there was a shorter, older woman with dark hair. She was leaning on Killian as if he was the only thing holding her up. She looked weak, but the pride on her face was evident. To his other side was a man a little taller than Killian, with lighter hair, and familiar blue eyes.

“I’ve kept my past as far down as I could for as long as I can remember,” Killian started, his voice grave and hoarse as he focused on the photo in his hand. “My mother died when she came to visit me in New York for my graduation, because the trip took a toll on her already deteriorating health,” he said. “My brother was a Captain on the Scotland Yard when he was stabbed off duty trying to save a mother and her son from a mugging. He died at the hospital the next day.” Killian looked up at her, his eyes shining with tears. “I told you I lost my family, but I never told you how...how guilty...how empty I feel for being here in their place.”

Emma’s heart broke at his words. “Killian—”

“It sent me down a dark path, Emma,” he said. “Bloody hell, I’ve lost count of how many women I’ve slept with.” She winced at his words, but he continued, “I’m ashamed of the choices I’ve made, but...they were my choices. I was given so many chances, and I fucked them all up.” His face practically crumbled as he looked away. “My brother and mother would be ashamed of me. I’m just like him…” The last part was a whisper and it took a moment for Emma to realize what he meant.

“Your father?”

Killian sniffed, but said nothing.

“You never talk about him,” Emma said quietly.

“Because he was a worthless coward who was given opportunity after opportunity to do better and he never did! Just like me.

“He abandoned my mum when she got sick, turned his back on his children—”

“Killian, you’re nothing like him—”

Killian looked at her again, but the emotion on his face was replaced with a haunting look of fierce determination and resignation.

“Maybe,” he said carefully, “maybe not. But isn’t it better not to find out the hard way?”

His eyes searched hers and when she realized what he was saying, the tiny rope that had been stretched to its limit inside of Emma finally snapped.

“No. No, don’t do this, Killian,” she said, tears burning in her eyes. “You told me this felt different.” She took a step towards him, grabbing his arms.

Killian sighed and backed away from her touch.

“David’s right. You deserve better.

“No,” Emma shook her head. “You're giving up. Don’t give up! If you do then you are like him, Killian! Don’t you see that?”

Killian smiled sadly at her, hollow and devoid of his usual adoration and softness and her broken heart cracked even more. “I am going to miss your fire, lass,” he whispered.

Before Emma could say anything else, he was gone.

X X

KILLIAN JONES

David may have been a bloody asshat, but Killian was damned if he wasn’t absolutely right. He had been so wrapped up these last couple of weeks with Emma that he completely ignored the truth that he wasn’t good for her. She deserved better.

He was only five minutes away from David and Mary-Margaret’s when he heard his name being called. With a clenched jaw and tense shoulders, Killian stopped and slowly turned around.

David approached him hesitantly, a guarded expression on his face as he eyes darted across Killian’s face.

“Come to yell at me some more, mate?” Kilian couldn’t help but sass.

“No,” David sighed.

“Ahh, so just came to finish what you started in your flat? Go on then,” he challenged, stepping forward and holding his jacket open.

“That’s not...Look, I’m sorry things escalated back there…”

“Escalated?” Killian let his jacket go and chuckled darkly. “You bloody accosted me in a room full of our friends.”

“You’re dating one of my best friends after I specifically asked you not to,” David gritted through his teeth, fists clenching at his side.

“Aye, and I apologize for not listening you.” David looked at him surprised, but Killian continued, “I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you, because you’re my friend and my partner and I respect you.” He paused, shaking his head with a sigh. “But I won’t bloody apologize for…” Killian’s throat closed up as David looked away, slightly uncomfortable. Killian gathered his bearings with an unsteady breath. “I won’t apologize for being with her. Because it’s been the best two weeks of my bloody life.” Another pause. David opened his mouth, but Killian pressed on, “And I know I don’t deserve her. You’re right. I’m a drunk, and I haven't dealt with my past and I don't even know how to be in a goddamn...relationship.” His mouth curved around the unfamiliar word.

Killian looked down, feeling his chest tightening again at the thought of Emma and him, wrapped under the sheets on her bed, nothing between them.

He shook the memories away with another sigh before meeting his partner’s gaze head on. “And you’re right,” he repeated. “I’m no good for her. So...I’m stepping back. I’m bowing out. You don’t have to worry about me. I won’t bother her again.”

X X

EMMA SWAN

“Who do you think you are, David? Just who the fuck do you think you are?” Emma aimed a throw pillow at David’s head as soon as he walked back into the apartment.

“Where’s Killian?” Mary-Margaret asked worriedly, running up to him.

“He’s...gone,” David said. “He went home.”

Emma shook her head, tears spilling down her cheeks. “You son of a bitch.” She lunged for him, but Regina caught her around the waist.

“Easy, tiger,” Regina said. “You could do some real damage to him.”

Emma tried to shake her off, but Regina only let her go when she was sure it was safe.

“Why would you do that?” Emma demanded, eyes trained on David. “How could you...say those things to him?”

“Emma, you don’t know Killian….”

“Stop saying that!” Emma interrupted him. “You don’t know Killian.”

David took a step towards her, index finger pressed to his chest. “I’ve been his partner for almost ten years!”

“So what? Obviously you don’t know his heart!” Emma yelled back. “If you did, you’d see him for the man he is: kind, compassionate...loving…” her words trailed off, voice shaking, and she had to avert her gaze from the sympathetic look Robin threw her way. “And for the first time,” Emma continued, not caring that her voice was shaking and she could barely breathe, “and for the first time, I felt like I found someone who...I thought maybe I....”

“Emma,” David started gently, taking another step towards her.

Emma held her hands up and took a step back. “No!” She looked up at him, feeling completely broken and lost. “You don’t know what he meant to me, do you?” she asked him, the accusatory tone and utter hurt in her voice making him look away in shame.

“Emma,” Mary-Margaret stepped towards her, but Emma shook her head and walked to the front door, her friend hurrying after her. “Emma, please wait.” She grabbed her arm and Emma pulled it away angrily.

She turned to face her friend, tears in her eyes and falling freely down her face. “I have to go,” was all she could bear to say.

X X

KILLIAN JONES

Three days. He wondered how something he hadn’t even had a couple of weeks ago could hurt so bad now that it was gone.

But he had grown accustomed to waking up next to Emma Swan. In a matter of months, he had broken all of his rules. He had fallen for a woman and he’d broken her heart, and his own, in the process.

Killian’s throat was dry when he walked into his flat Monday night. He’d called in sick to work, something he had never done before, and ignored his friends’ calls the entire weekend. The only face he wanted to see lighting up on his screen never did, nor did he really expect it to.

He was holding a bottle of rum in a paper bag, his fourth in three days. He felt shame, of course, each time he made the purchase. But by the fourth or fifth swig, he was happily content. By the tenth and eleventh, he was downright blitzed, and three-quarters of the way through the bottle, everything was blissfully dark.

It wasn't until Thursday night—Gold was pissed at him for calling out the entire week, but Killian had sick days to spare so he really didn’t give a damn—that his routine for the week was disrupted.

He was at his grocery store, in need of a fresh bottle of rum, when his phone phone buzzed with an incoming call. He barely glanced at the screen before answering gruffly:

“Hello?”

Silence.

“Hello?” Killian repeated, the frustration more evident in his voice.

When he was once again met with silence, what little patience Killian had left snapped.

“Listen, you bloody wanker, whoever the fuck you are—”

“Killian,” a voice on the other end finally said. “It’s me.”

The pinch between Killian’s brows deepened at the low, male voice with a familiar accent.

“Who the bloody hell is this?’” Killian demanded.

There was a deep sigh. Then, “It’s your father, Killian.”

Killian clenched the phone so hard in his hand, he was worried for a moment it might shatter in his grip.

Brennan Jones contacted him every few years under the guise of wanting to ‘see his only living child.’ But it always ended up being because he needed money to pay off his gambling debts or buy some more booze.

Maybe it was the residual rum in his system, or maybe it was the fact that the only thing that had ever really made any bit of sense to him had been ripped away.

Whatever it was, Brennan Jones had sure picked the wrong time to call.

“Father?” Killian repeated incredulously. “A father doesn’t abandon his wife and kids to be with his mistress. He doesn’t bleed his family dry of every cent they have and then come back when he owes his goons a couple thousand pounds.”

“Boy, who in the hell do you think you are?”

“I’m not your boy,” Killian growled.

His father laughed on the other end. “You are, like it or not. The apple doesn’t far fall from the tree. Remember that, lad. I’m all you’ve got.”

“You know what I remember?” Killian shot back, “I remember Mum crying herself to sleep every night. I remember not having new shoes for school and Liam having to teach me how to play baseball and how to talk to girls because I didn’t have a bloody father to do that.

“And you know what?” Killian laughed, almost hysterical. “Because of you, I’ve spent most of my life running away from people who care about me. Liam...Mum…” He choked back the tears threatening to escape.

And in that moment, he felt his tiny, dark world shake.

Maybe Killian didn’t have to continue down this self-fulfilling prophecy, because in that moment he realized if he did, he would end up just like the man on the other end of the phone: down and out and all alone.

But Killian had someone who truly cared for him. And the difference he realized, between him and his father, was that Killian was going to fight for what he wanted.

“I’m nothing like you,” Killian finally said. “I just want you to know that. And when I find something...worth fighting for...I’m not going to be a coward like you. I’m going to fight for it with every fiber of my being.

“You didn’t fight,” Killian growled. “So you deserve what you get.”

x x

Killian dumped the rest of the liquor in his apartment down the drain that night and Friday morning he was back at work.

His first order of business was finalizing a restraining order against Brennan Jones. The next was ordering a dozen yellow daisies from the florist down the street. Killian ignored his colleagues’ curious expressions when the delivery man brought the bright bouquet and he let Gold know he would be back.

Killian had played this over and over in his mind, but nothing could have prepared him for the wretched nervousness he felt in his stomach standing outside Emma’s apartment holding the flowers in his hand.

It took him almost ten minutes to work up the nerve to knock, but before his fist connected the door flew open. When his eyes met the bright green before him, Killian just about forgot everything he was going to say.

“What are you doing here?” Emma breathed.

“I uh…” He reached up and scratched behind his ear, hands sweating and flowers practically slipping from his grasp. “I just wanted to, um…”

He jumped when one of her neighbors slammed their apartment door shut.

“You’re so tense,” she said.

The concern in her voice—the fact that she was still concerned for him even after everything they'd been through—tugged at something deep in his gut and strengthened his resolve.

“I’m just...getting really tired of not waking up next to you,” he said. Emma’s mouth opened in a silent gasp as he continued, “And I know that I’ve made a lot of mistakes...but I’m not going to allow letting you go without a fight to be one of them.”

Emma’s eyes softened.

“I know I’m not worthy of your love—” She opened her mouth to argue, “but you deserve to be loved...and cherished...and reminded everyday how bloody brilliant you are—” Emma couldn't help but look down with a blush, but he tilted her chin up gently— “And I don’t think anyone else can love you...the way I can. If you’ll let me. If you...want me…”

Killian barely finished his sentence before Emma lunged forward and pressed her lips to his. The kiss remained chaste and ended far too quickly.

Killian rested his forehead against hers and smiled down at her.

“You came back,” she whispered.

“Aye.”

“Why?”

“Don’t you know, Emma?” She looked up at him curiously. “It's you. You’re the one I’ve been waiting for.”

Emma couldn’t stop smiling, even as Killian kissed her once again.

X X

E N D

#cslb #cslb fic #cslb 2018 #captain swan #captain swan fanfiction #along came you #writemyanchor

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blufics · 7 years

Text

Title: The Pelican Also Thinks It Was Eren’s Fault

Characters: Eren, Mikasa, Armin

Syn: A trip to the beach holds plenty of opportunities for things to fuck up. (Modern AU)

“Armin?”

“Yeah?”

Eren squinted against the brightness above him.

“You ever think about how pelicans have, like, jaw sacks?”

Armin turned to his best friend, looking only somewhat horrified.

“No. I don’t.”

“How about you, Miks?”

She didn’t even bother to open her eyes. “I definitely don’t.”

“Well….do you think they could eat a person?”

Armin returned his distressed gaze to Eren once more.

“No??” he responded.

“Then why is that one watching us like that?” Eren contested, pointing off to their left. Sure enough, perched on the pier was an unusually interested pelican, jaw-sack wobbling at the ready.

“It’s probably hoping we don’t steal its catch.”

“I’m thinking we’re its catch.”

“Being friends with you is so stressful,” Mikasa sighed.

“And when I save us all from the goddamn top predator of the ocean, you’ll be sorry you said it.”

“‘Kay,” exhaled his friends in unison. Nevertheless, Eren, brave and steadfast, did not relinquish his vigilance over the threat.

When sunbathing became boring, Armin and Eren went combing for shells, the former spewing fact after fact about the creature each abandoned shell may have belonged to, as well as the ones that were, in fact, current residents. Eventually, Mikasa caught up with them- mainly concerned that, with all the prodding he was doing, Eren was going to end up on the wrong side of some poor critter’s temper.

The tide came forward, lapping at their ankles. Their fellow beach-goers drifted away, one by one, until they had the shore all to themselves. Eren, in a lull of conversation, stole a glance at Mikasa, who returned his gaze suspiciously. Then, with a grin, he shoved his body into hers, shouting, “Beach tag!” before darting towards the pier.

Mikasa rose from the sand, dusted herself off, and shot off after him at a speed that could cut bullets. Beneath his growing sunburn, goosebumps rose on Armin’s arms.

He watched as she all but drop-kicked the now-screaming Eren, sending them both tumbling into the sand.

“Beach tag!” she declared, running back towards Armin. Breathless, yet still relentless as ever, Eren got to his feet and chased after her.

They danced in circles around their best friend, Mikasa teasing, Eren trying to outsmart her, outrun her, out anything her- and failing. Finally, to Armin’s relief, she led him to the water, where they stomped awkwardly as it rose to their ankles, and then their thighs. Eventually, once it had reached their stomachs, Mikasa submerged herself and began to swim away- at a speed that, naturally, would make a torpedo jealous.

Eren, never one to give up, swam after her. Armin simply watched, in utter awe of how one human being could move so quickly, and how the other could deny such obvious defeat for so long.

He then dropped his eyes down to his sand-caked toes, where little creatures sat in their homes, musing over the fact that, where Mikasa had the athletic ability of an Olympian and Eren had the persistence of a door-to-door salesman, his only real skill was knowing the proper name for each kind of shell they’d all come across. Remarkable, granted, but not very handy, and therefore not very impressive, he supposed.

Something slammed into him, and he swore he flew for a moment before landing in the wet sand, a beach crab scuttling back into its hole as his face landed before it.

“Beach tag!” called Eren and Mikasa in unison, giggling. Their laughter died, however, when Armin didn’t get up.

Eren bent over him, concerned. “Armin? You okay?”

“I need a moment,” Armin murmured, still in shock from the sudden impact.

“We don’t have a moment,” Eren objected. He grabbed him by the arm, pulling him to his feet. “Daylight’s burning, and we’ve got to make the most of our day. Let’s see how deep we can go into the water.”

“Eren-” Armin stammered as he was pulled towards the water. “You know I can’t swim.”

“You’ll be fine,” he assured him. “Just hold onto me when dog paddling doesn’t work anymore, okay?”

With the kind of trust that can only exist between people like them, Armin relented.

“Okay.”

Playing in the ocean could be fun, Armin realized. Not because fighting the frivolous physics of water was any fun in and of itself, but because clinging to Eren as he jumped wave after wave was, unexpectedly, quite the rush.

“That one was easy!” he exclaimed, laughing. They’d hardly hopped before the wave had passed.

“I think the ocean’s scared,” Eren agreed.

“Poseidon quivers before us!” Armin shouted.

Eren, in turn, yelled, “Fuck off!”- assumedly to Poseidon himself.

They soon found that the ocean wasn’t too fond of obscenities.

“That’s…..a big one,” Armin warned, pointing to the oncoming wave.

“We can take it,” Eren assured him. “Just hold your breath, just in case.”

“Alright.” He tightened his grip on his back. Eren tensed, gathering a breath, trying to time it with the wave’s arrival.

“On the count of three, Ar. One….two…...th- OH SHI-”

The wave slammed into them with the force of a giant. Armin instantly lost his grip on Eren, and he began to flail in panic, trying to discern up from down so he could at least get his head above water.

Eren, who’d managed to get a gasp of air between the current’s constant shoves, forced himself upward in a lull of waves, spotted his best friend, and made a beeline toward him, submerging himself once more.

Armin watched with stinging eyes as a figure took hold of him and hauled him upward. They broke the surface, gasping, and Eren struggled to sling Armin’s arm across his shoulders.

The two had just managed to stabilize themselves when they heard low roaring.

Armin looked to his right and nearly froze.

Eren looked to his left and began to drone nervously.

“......hhhhhhhhhhhhheeeeeyyyy, Armin?”

“Yes?”

“We’re…..really far from shore.”

“That’s the least of our worries.”

Oh, no.

“.....how big is it.”

“It’s already scaring me, and we’ve at least got a half-minute before it gets to us.”

“Can….can lifeguards see us out this far?”

The boys met eyes.

“MIKASA!!!” they screeched. “MIKASAAAAAAAA!!!”

Amidst their screams, a shadow fell over them. Armin turned back and squeaked, fingers digging into Eren’s shoulder.

Eren only managed to get out a quick, “IMFUCKINGSORRYPOSEIDON-” Before they were thrown underwater once more.

As Armin struggled to move in the direction he supposed to be upwards, he passively wondered if this is how he would go out. In the goddamn ocean, in the 21st century, likely not a mile from the shore. What an unbelievably stupid death.

He was all but ready to start demanding a better reincarnation when someone grabbed him by the arm and hoisted him up.

It was none other than the goddess herself, Mikasa Ackerman.

“Are you alright?” she asked him, draping his arm over her shoulders.

Struggling to do anything but breathe, Armin simply nodded.

“Good,” she sighed. “Because, once we get to shore, I’m kicking your ass.”

“What...about…”

“Eren is getting back to land on a boogie board. Alone.”

“Mikasa….it’s dang-”

Mid-sentence, Armin realized how calm the water had actually become. Flabbergasted, he turned back to Mikasa, who had already begun to head to shore.

Even Poseidon feared the Ackermans, he guessed.

A few minutes after they’d managed to reach land, Eren washed up at the water’s edge, heaving breaths as sand soaked his cheeks.

Having already regained her composure, Mikasa shot a searing glance at him from above her sunglasses.

“Enjoy your trip?”

“I hate the ocean,” Eren croaked. He pointed an accusing finger at her. “And you are the cruelest being known to mankind. I can hardly fucking move my legs.”

“But did you die?”

Reasonably, that shut him up. Mikasa relaxed into her chair, adjusting her sunglasses.

“We leave in fifteen minutes, by the way.”

Eren and Armin shared a glance. “Good,” they chorused.

From atop the pier, the same pelican from hours before took notice. Eren, who swore he could hear it laughing at them, flipped it the proverbial bird.

“Nothing like a good meal after a near-death experience.”

“Oh, please,” Mikasa scoffed. “You two would’ve been perfectly fine.”

“I don’t know, Mikasa.” Armin swallowed his bite, covering his mouth with one hand as he spoke. “If you hadn’t gotten to us in time, there’s no telling how long we might’ve lasted.”

“Speaking of which, Eren?”

“What?”

She pointed at him. “You’re paying. For all of us.”

His shoulders slumped. “Oh, come on!” he complained. “I already had to boogie board myself back to shore, after almost drowning! I mean- Armin was there, too!”

“And who dragged him there?” Armin mused.

“Hey,” Eren argued, “you never said no.”

“Unenthusiastic consent is not consent, Eren.”

“He’s right,” Mikasa agreed. “This was your fault. You’re paying meals and gas money the rest of the way home.”

“Fine,” Eren conceded. “Under one condition.”

“What.”

“My mom never hears about this.”

Mikasa squinted. “We’ll see,” she said, sipping her tea.

AN: My very first Fix for Fix!! @the-eren-plush-blog , thank you so much for the ko-fis!! I hope this was what you had in mind. <333

#snk #sorry though this felt so...bad #I guess im a little rusty #i havent written in a long time #shiganshina trio #still I hope you liked it!!!#ur blog always makes me smile

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18tpaz · 7 years

Photo

@damereyevents summer exchange: for @strong-bottle-of-jyn

Aaaaand here it is!!!! Yoooo damerey buddy!!!!

You asked for a fic about scavenger!poe and pilot!rey (ooooohh)! lol and because I love all my damerey and my damerey buddies I also made a little gifset to go with it :D

I have to admit, it’s been years since I last wrote a serious fanfic so forgive me if my writing’s a bit rusty (and if the style feels childish it must be because while making the fic, I was reading the young kids’ version of ROTJ by Tom Angleberger — I highly recommend, it’s fun! hahaha). And this story has no title yet...hmm, would you like to do the honors? :) Hoping to hear from ya soon!!!

Summary: Poe Dameron has made a decent living as a scavenger on Yavin 4, but a chance encounter with two Resistance fighters may finally bring him to his destiny to fly with the greatest heroes of the galaxy. Maybe dreams do come true.

Words: 4,903 ( i kno it’s short :( )

Edit: the title for this fic is "You Need a Scavenger" lol!

“Oh no. Oh no. Oh no,” Finn gaped at the mess of a ship he just came out of, “This is bad. Real bad.”

“Damage report?” Rey, still stuck in her blue jumpsuit-sans-helmet, peered at the smoking wishbone ship before sharing a wince with her best friend.

Ordinary people would have accepted their death at the hands of an endless jungle.

But Rey and Finn weren't ordinary beings.

Running on instinct, the duo scouted the area for something useful (that wasn't another gigantic tree). Finding nothing but endless greens, they decided to to immediately set up camp by their downed vehicle.

“Another dinner of tasty rations,” Rey grumbled at her veg-meat as Finn chuckled, opting instead to take a nap on his sleeping mat.

“Good night, peanut.”

“Sleep tight, Finn.”

- -

The fourth moon of Yavin wasn't particularly a competitive market for junk and it suited Poe perfectly fine. Besides, the farm being tended by his father could sufficiently feed them both; his scavenging was nothing more than a hobby that happened to bring extra credits to the table.

After setting up his father’s breakfast, Poe and his droid BB-8, headed off on his self-constructed landspeeder for their next salvaging adventure.

“So, where are we off to today?” Poe turned to his round companion who beeped and chirped animatedly, “Hmm… yeah buddy maybe we should take a break from scouring the abandoned Rebel base and try our luck on something else. Scan around for unusual readings.”

The droid responded by making annoyed noises, “Yeah yeah, I know I'm too obsessed.”

Dee-deet! Dee-deet! Poe’s scanners were picking up a mass of potential scrap ahead of him. Slowing down his speeder, he pulled out his quadnocs to take a peek. He could see smoke lightly dissipating from a hidden cockpit. The magnified image made his heart leap. It was a real, functional Y-wing!

Never in his life did Poe drive his speeder with utmost urgency. It was one thing to stare at holoimages of fancy ships or pick around distended parts for selling. But to catch a whole, real (REAL!) starfighter? He felt like the luckiest man in history since Han Solo's legendary win in a game of Sabacc (of course Poe knows about Han Solo! Poe’s probably a walking encyclopedia of the Galactic Civil War). His mind raced with possibilities and ideas.

I should try the sublights on this thing.

Maybe I could bring home a nice helmet from this too.

Will BB-8 fit the astromech slot?

I can finally know the feeling of flying a bomber!

His imagination was cut short by a blaster bolt that almost singed his favorite jacket. Filled with panic, he didn’t realize that the pilot might still be alive!

“Who's there?!” screamed a bold, male voice. Poe could hear the rifle being prepped for another shot.

“I mean you no harm!” Poe quickly answered, hands up in the air, “I… uh… saw your ship! And I uh… came to offer my services!” His mind was nimbly threading a legitimate excuse, “You see, I run a small business of fixing stuff and selling parts. My house is just a few klicks away.”

The pilot must have been a little desperate as he lowered his blaster and moved closer to Poe's position.

Dark complexion, clean haircut, and very determined eyes. Complete trooping gear and a classy flight jacket.

The man, bearing a brawny build and an equally assertive stance, inspected Poe to ensure that he wasn't hiding any weapons. But what he wasn't counting on was the stinging electric shock delivered by BB-8 on his ankle, “Ow!” he stumbled and grunted.

“Hey buddy, it’s okay. I was about to score a job,” Poe intervened before his loyal companion could send another shock current on the man. The reassurance caused BB-8 to roll backwards and bow his domed head in apology, a light ‘dwoooo’ sound echoing his speakers.

Deciding to play friendly, Poe helped the stranger up, “I'm Poe. Poe Dameron.”

“Finn,” he responded, “You said you could fix our ship?” the man inquired.

“I gotta take a look at it first, of course,” Poe replied. True, he had to assess the damage. But his true motivation was the chance to see and touch a real Alliance vehicle. He just had to pull out all his tricks for this chance!

Finn, Poe, and BB-8 approached the Y-wing in haste. And as Poe was about to get his first touch of the ship, a gloved hand grabbed his forearm.

“What do you think you're doing?” growled a female voice this time, mezzo-soprano, (and obviously very angry).

Her air of authority placed Poe in a state of partial paralysis. He slowly looked up to see a fair and regal face, sprinkled with dust and slightly tanned. The upper part of her blue flightsuit was unzipped to reveal a worn, sleeveless, gray undershirt (and immaculately toned arms). Poe dared to look into her hazel eyes and gulped. If Finn felt like dealing with an elite shocktrooper, the girl was probably Lady Vader.

Nevermind that the girl’s gauntlets were dripping grease on his favorite jacket.

“I'm uh, Poe. Poe Dameron?”

“And?”

“He wants to help fix the ship,” Finn intervened, hoping to defuse his friend’s aggression.

“As you can see, I can handle it myself,” the girl replied, oozing with sass. She pointed a Pilex driver at Poe, “And no offense, but you look like a scruffy scavenger about to steal my ship.”

Damn, caught so fast. Maybe I should have listened to Dad and shaved.

“You'll need parts though,” Poe adroitly picked himself up from the girl’s tripping wits, “I sell! And, I can see that your coolant’s leaking. We could work on that.”

The scavenger’s right. She huffed, “I do need some more bonding tape.”

“Hey, I can get you some new parts for that instead!” Poe exclaimed, “My finds will fit well with an Alliance classic like your bomber.”

Of course the girl had her doubts, but after a silent deliberation within herself (actually, it was just one long sigh), she relented.

And they all got to work.

- -

For the next few days, Poe learned a couple of things from his new customers.

1. The girl's name was Rey - and she was probably ranked as high as Captain, based on how Finn addressed her.

2. Rey and Finn were probably Resistance agents, scouting around the sector until they got hit and landed here.

3. They were in a hurry to fix their long range comms. But so far, no luck.

4. Kes Dameron, Poe’s dad, came down to see what they were up to and offered some koyo melons from their homely ranch. A warm, ambient environment ensued.

5. Finn did most of the talking (he was a very friendly chap when you got to know him). Captain Rey on the other hand, was a quiet sort of buddy.

6. But Rey has a very special heart for machines. She bonded with BB-8 instantly while making a lot of technical remarks about Poe’s landspeeder. (Of course Poe took lots of notes! Had to learn more about this girl - I MEAN LEARN FROM A REAL PROFESSIONAL STARFIGHTER PILOT).

7. Also, this meant that Poe's sly attempts to sell his worthless junk (as he usually did with unknowing offworlders) didn't succeed under Rey’s watchful eye.

8. Nope, a shaved face didn't help his cause either.

“25,000 credits?! This is a rusty 30-year-old U-wing thrust engine!,” Rey frowned at the chunk of metal being put down by Finn and Poe from the landspeeder.

“On the contrary,” Poe began, shifting his gears into salesman-slash-Galactic Civil War expert mode, “I believe this lovely piece of vintage was part of Operation Fracture, which — ”

“ — was the mission to uncover and stop the Death Star,” Rey supplied, “and if my memory is intact, most of Blue Squadron’s U-wings met their grave on Scarif.”

Poe was flabbergasted. It was perhaps, the first time he was caught spindling a lie about history. Finn simply chuckled and patted BB-8, “Sorry Poe-my-good-man, but Rey is a hardcore geek when it comes to these things. Girl knows her stuff.”

“Look Poe, we’re not museum collectors. I need functional thrusters if we are to make it as far as Mandalore,” Rey explained.

BB-8 chirped something in response.

“You need the money for what?” Rey raised her eyebrows and began crossing her arms.

“Don't listen to him,” Poe panicked, realizing what his droid had just said, “Okay...look...we can go to my usual hauling areas and find another thrust engine.”

“You know if you were so bent on signing up for the New Republic Starfighter Corps, you could join us in the Resistance! I can gun for you if you like! I'm actually a big deal in the Resistance and I am pretty damn sure that I am one of the best gunners out there,” Finn grinned, pumped up with excitement.

But Poe nervously chuckled and cleared his throat, “Let's not get carried away guys. Now wanna go check out that old Rebel base?”

- -

Many would have thought that the Rebels took everything with them when they evacuated the Massassi temples on Yavin 4, and that graverobbers would have nothing left to salvage from the ancient rocks.

But Poe Dameron was a persistent one.

Driven by his deep desires to rediscover his deceased mother, an ace of the Rebel Alliance, he poured all his efforts on uncovering concealed caches, cracking codes, and absorbing whatever intel was left behind. What lacking information he needed, he sought through Holonet searches when he visited the main town. Sometimes a family friend, a retired veteran Duros pilot he fondly called Uncle L’ulo, shared what he could to the eager boy. Along with Kes Dameron, they reminisced Green Squadron’s finest moments when Lieutenant Shara Bey, Poe’s mom, did the wildest heroics in the name of freedom and justice.

The secret outposts found by Poe were stashed with enough supplies and parts to sustain a lost platoon for 5 standard years. Though they couldn’t find a good set of thrusters, Rey and Finn were admittedly impressed. BB-8 also helped set up temporary long range communications through an old terminal, so that Finn can report to Resistance High Command.

Meanwhile, Rey and Poe decided that they could build their own thrust engines from the spares. The two tinkerers were quiet for the duration of their work — Poe was determined to help his new friends get going while Rey began contemplating on the idea of acquiring another useful recruit. She knew that the Resistance needed more manpower, but at the same time their job required a deep sense of commitment and utmost loyalty, qualities Rey wasn't sure that Poe had (For one, Rey knew a lot of skilled people who were nothing more than mercenaries). Still, she decided that a little probing might help around.

“Why do you want to be a starfighter pilot?” Rey inquired while fiddling with her toolkit.

She could sense the emotions brewing beneath the scavenger.

Sentimentality.

Compassion.

Belongingness.

Poe tilted his head, scrunching up his face a bit as he continued to work, “Mostly because of my Ma, I guess,” he picked up a hydrospanner and inserted it into a damaged slot, “She flew for Green Squadron while my Dad served under the Pathfinders.”

Rey nodded in understanding. She also began installing some bolts.

“How ’bout you, Captain... uh, why did you want to be a Jedi?”

If Rey was surprised, she didn't show it. (Actually, she was. But of course she's better than that.)

“What makes you think I’m a Jedi?” she calmly challenged his query.

Poe shrugged, still engrossed in his work, “I saw your lightsaber clipped next to your belt. The only time I saw that kind of thing was on a holo of Luke Skywalker in his X-wing attire.”

Rey couldn't help but grin. He's an observant one. Good. “Let’s just say it's also tied to family.”

Poe nodded.

Silence ensued. But, it was comfortable kind, knowing that they stood on the same ground and were somehow, drawn to the same endless stars above them (How did assembling thrusters become such a dreamy setting?). Before they knew it, only a few couplings were left to be installed.

“Finn’s not done yet, is he?” Poe mused.

“I’ll tell you a secret — that boy has a rather colorful love life,” Rey mischievously replied and they shared laugh, “If I have to place a bet, it’ll be on one of those sisters he befriended on the maintenance crew…”

“Must be tough love.”

“Maybe if you join our ranks you'll give him some competition,” Rey joked.

“Nah. My old man needs me here,” Poe shook his head.

Rey was about to respond when Finn came back with BB-8. He seemed more relaxed after that long chat with the base.

“Hey Rey, General Organa wants to talk to you,” Finn bent down, positioning himself to take over her work. The captain quietly stood up and accompanied BB-8 back to the terminal.

“General,” Rey curtly greeted Leia Organa with a nod.

Leia on the other hand, continued to stare dotingly at Rey, as though her compassion could be transmitted all the way from D’Qar to Yavin 4.

“Rey, I wish I could tell you to take your time but — ”

“Time is of the essence, I know,” Rey sighed, rubbing her forehead, “I'm doing my best to fix the ship and I swear we’ll be on track to Mandalore before you know it.”

“No, that's not it,” Leia explained, “We're picking up First Order transmissions. They're in your area, trying to find a Force-sensitive tree. Several TIEs have been dispatched. They might also be the group who shot you down.”

“A Force-sensitive tree?”

“I know Luke had given one to the Dameron family. Finn says you've made contact with their son?” Leia asked.

“Yes.”

“Make sure the First Order doesn't find it,” came Leia's swift order.

“But what about the emissary to Mandalore? We have to coordinate with them soon,” Rey frowned, unconvinced by the tree’s importance.

“Finn says that Poe Dameron is seeking enlistment with us. And I know his parents well, especially his mother. Recruiting him is as good as finding our contact in Mandalore,” Leia replied, her voice driven by conviction. Rey could feel ripples of the Force flowing between them. Leia's natural intensity as a commander not only made her an effective leader, but also an undeniably strong presence in the Force.

Like Master Luke. Like Ben. And all those lost Jedi.

Memories of pain flushed her into a deep silence.

And Leia of course, was able to pick up on it, “I know it's so hard to place trust on people. Especially after what happened to your father…” her voice began drifting, her own emotional struggles reflecting that of Rey’s.

But unlike an amateur such as Rey, Leia was firm in resisting her grief. Decades of experience brought her that ability to endure, “I had once entrusted my life to Shara Bey and I did not regret it. And if Poe is anything like his mother — or even his father, you will not hesitate to seek his help.”

“Yes ma’am.” Rey, suddenly stoic, affirmed.

Leia sighed. At least she is trying, “May the Force be with you.”

- -

“So, you like our little scoundrel of a princess?” Finn jabbed at Poe.

“Wh-what?” Poe stuttered.

“Oh come on! The only time I saw that kind of look was when Rey got to fly the Falcon!” Finn continued to tease, “And believe me, I’ve been through a lot of fodder with that gruffy girl and it's definitely been an adventure of a lifetime.”

Poe frowned. They began to tow the newly-constructed thrusters back into the speeder.

“I know she likes to look tough. Have you seen how she likes to be scruffy and show off her guns and all? She wants folks to respect her. And I guess I can't blame her for trying to live up to an inherited reputation…” Finn began rambling, immersed in his discourse of his best friend.

“But I know, deep in my gut, that you’ll be good for her,” Finn continued, “I've seen her rip a gundark with her bare, muddy hands and I was there when she wore silvery garments and stole glances from everyone in a senator’s party. Of course the other pilots like Jess and Karé love her with all their being. But she needs another kind of friend, a relatable one. Someone who also memorizes all the skirmishes after the Battle of Hoth. And can re-wire a navicomputer with eyes closed. Someone who knows what it’s like to be a child of a legend. And if these docs are right, your Mama was one helluva pilot,” Finn wriggled his eyebrows, waving a datapad in front of Poe.

The scavenger just gaped at him. Somehow, Finn’s datapad had just downloaded all of Lieutenant Shara Bey’s Alliance records. Not just Shara’s but Kes Dameron’s files too.

“You know when Leia treats us all Resistance babies like her own children you get access to many amazing things,” Finn winked.

“Now if you’re trying to lure me to join — ” Poe began shaking his head.

“I don't know what’s stopping you either.”

“Dameron!” shouted Rey's voice. The young Jedi was jogging towards them with BB-8 rolling in the same quickened pace.

“The tree. Where is it?” Rey grabbed Poe’s collar.

That gesture must have terrified him because he froze in place.

“Whoa, calm down Cap. What did the General say?” Finn patted Rey’s shoulder.

“The First Order is here, looking for a tree that Master Luke gave to Shara Bey. We need to protect it at all costs,” Poe and Finn could feel the panic seeping among them.

The tree. From Luke Skywalker himself.

Poe's mind was running in circles, remembering how his parents revered the damn plant. How he was made to personally care for it when he accidentally burned it in a hurry to finish his chores, many years back.

He flicked his comlink, contacting his father.

Shhhhhhssssshhhh. Static.

If his comm was jammed, that meant the First Order was here. On this moon. On their backyard.

AND HIS FATHER.

The trio (plus BB-8) hurried back to the homestead.

- -

Kes knew that he'd never outgrow the instincts he’d bred as a SpecForce soldier. So, when he saw an indiscriminate man heading straight for the Force-sensitive tree, he immediately grabbed his old blaster from a hidden compartment. Setting up for a snipe shot, he quietly aimed at the thief.

Pffoooowpsh!!!

Ah, that satisfying hit meant that he was still a true Pathfinder.

Kes slowly moved towards the incapacitated man, inspecting the thief's gear. There were network sensor jammers in one pocket and other tools similar to former Imperial Security Bureau agents. He could also hear at least two speeders within his area, one he identified as Poe's and another that was probably the burglar’s reinforcements. Making a wild guess, he ducked before a second thief tried to shoot him, and then fired back.

He missed. And the second man accelerated his vehicle, retreating back into the forest.

“Dad!” Poe, along with BB-8, hurriedly approached his father.

Kes raised his thumb up before gesturing to Rey and Finn to catch the escaping intruder.

Rey immediately took over the controls of Poe's ride while Finn readied his rifle.

Poe glanced back at them, hoping that Rey would take care of his baby.

“I’m okay, son. I’m okay,” Kes grinned cockily. Sometimes his boy was such a worrier, like Shara secretly was back years ago.

“Was it the First Order, Dad?” Poe peered at the dead body.

“Definitely,” Kes nodded, “I knew they'd be after the tree one day. It was Skywalker’s last request from our family to keep it safe.”

“Dad…I...”

Kes couldn't help but give his son a rather wrinkly smile. He could read Poe and all his hopes and fears like plain Aurebesh.

And he knew exactly what he had to say to give his kid a final push. “Destiny calls us. The Force, even. That's why I wounded up serving under General Solo back on Endor, why your mother flew alongside Luke and Leia. We decided that we couldn't allow innocents to suffer. Now you have to make your choice. Will you help them too?”

“But what about you? Who's going to take care of you?”

Kes boisterous laughter filled the air, “I'm tougher than I look, son. Your old man still has that Pathfinder spirit,” he pounded his chest proudly. He shifted gears and mellowed the mood, “Poe, I know you’re worried for me but I'll be fine here. Shara used to think that way, too. Afraid that she couldn't stop flying once she got into her green flightsuit and left you behind.”

He held his son's face, looking into his eyes that was so much like his wife's — that same soul yearning to explore the heavens, “You'll know when to fight and you'll know when to back down. We've raised you to be smarter and tougher so that one day you could take your place in this universe,” he slipped a data chip into Poe's hand.

The launch codes for Shara’s old A-wing. An old ship, long hidden beneath a tarp, parked half a klick away.

A beauty waiting for its reawakening.

“I give you my blessing, son. It's been a long damn time and now you should quit holding yourself back!” Kes laughed again, “Who knows our small family might get one helluva pilot as daughter-in-law again!”

Poe palmed his face, recently cleaned of facial hair (also done to secretly impress the Y-wing captain). His dad was too quick of a thinker sometimes.

- -

With the infinite obstacle of trees, Rey can only steer the speeder so much. That was probably the seventh time she had to avoid the blaster bolts from hitting their borrowed ride.

“Are you ever going to fire back, peanut?!” Rey exasperatedly whined at Finn.

“I'm trying!” Finn grumbled back.

“What ever happened to the Resistance’s best gunner…” Rey muttered, slipping a grumpy joke as she usually did during troublesome times like this.

“I heard that!” Finn shot back, simultaneously hitting the thief's motivators.

The speeder in front of them was yanked out of the route, but the man luckily escaped. He continued running towards a pair of strange-looking TIE fighters (probably modified).

“He's going to fly out!” Finn pointed at him.

“I know that!” Rey screamed back. With a blink of an eye, she stopped the speeder and leapt in the air with her activated lightsaber.

Finn shook his head, but realizing that their Y-wing was only a junction away, he drove back to their campsite to re-install the new thrusters and maybe, get going.

He’d seen Rey make miracles and hopefully, they wouldn't need their dysfunctional ship to take chase on those pristine TIEs.

But being not much of a mechanic himself, he was probably the one who needed to make a miracle.

- -

Rey effortlessly deflected the blaster shots from the thief, who was backing away and nearing his ship.

This agent is crippled by his fear.

Rey threw her saber at his ship's twin ion engines, a smirk forming on her face.

You’ve got no escape this time.

Catching back her blade like a boomerang, she Force-pushed the thief into a tree, knocking him unconscious.

She turned to the other TIE fighter, not realizing that the pilot inside had prepped his ship for take-off and had began gunning her. She continued to deflect its strong bolts until one blast hit an enormous branch, which was about to topple her. Rey rolled out of the way and unfortunately, it allowed the TIE to escape.

Panting, she regretted her failure immediately.

Luckily though, Finn was able to pull a bit of a miracle. Their battered Y-wing was floating in front of her, cockpit opened.

“Let's test-ride this new thing!!!” Finn cheered. Rey smiled back and gracefully jumped to her seat. Following the TIE ahead of them, the Y-wing began to hit the skies.

Apparently, it was going to be harder than expected.

“You did not recalibrate this thing, did you?!” Rey groaned, the wishbone-shaped fighter jerking despite her focused controls. The TIE was now flying farther away.

“Well we were in a bit of a situation. I had to hurry!” Finn retorted.

Rey muttered a few things before resetting the guns and cannons. Finn, working in tandem, immediately tested his aim.

PPPANG!!! PPPANG!!!

Well, at least their guns are working.

Now it was a matter of reaching their target. But the TIE suddenly tumbled itself backwards.

“It’s behind us!” Finn warned.

“Deflector shields up!!!” Rey flicked a few buttons, wanting to pivot her stubborn fighter around to hit it and end the day.

The Y-wing whined in protest. Rey was trying her best to stabilize the gyroscopes. Finn knew that if she didn't do it fast enough, they'd be dead toast.

But suddenly, the sensors showed another ship approaching, hitting the TIE on their tail!

“Wooohooo!!!” Poe whooped, opening the comm channel to the Y-wing.

“Poe!!!” Rey and Finn exclaimed in relief. BB-8 was also beeping happily in the background. The droid was excited to be part of the adventure.

“I'll get him off your backs. And prepare to fire! His shield’s too strong for an old A-wing gun,” Poe advised.

The A-wing began baiting the TIE to follow him.

Poe yanked the controls and the old ship yielded to his maneuvers smoothly. A-wings were extremely nimble, and the TIE fighter (an unusually different model, Poe mused) had a hard time catching up with his swoops and barrel rolls. He dropped his ship too sharply, feeling the wild rush turning his insides. And then, he suddenly pushed his stick the opposite way.

No way could the jerk follow that crazy path.

Rey had somehow anticipated the path and soon, the Y-wing was onto the TIE’s trajectory.

“Clear shot, Finn!” Rey queued.

Her friend carried out the orders suavely and the TIE was swiftly blown to pieces.

The new friends hollered together. It was a memorable first victory.

“Now what?” Rey grinned at the comm, still hearing Poe’s laughter.

“I’ve brought some cargo with me and we can do repairs when we land on Mandalore,” Poe suggested.

“You sure?” Finn gasped excitedly, enjoying that their mission was going to proceed so instantly.

“Alright, sending coordinates to you,” Rey smiled to herself. Maybe the three of them were complete adrenaline junkies, after all.

The two rebel ships zoomed into hyperspace.

- -

The Resistance transport was up in their sights, already beginning its landing cycle.

“Hey, don't be nervous,” Finn patted Poe on the back.

How could he not be nervous?! Poe was finally meeting Leia Organa in the flesh. The Princess of Alderaan was a living legend among young dreamers like him. And Poe wanted to leave the best first impression for his long-time idol.

“Don’t worry. General Organa is like a mother to all of us,” Rey winked and Finn just rolled his eyes.

The door opened and the refined woman, despite wearing practical work clothes, was as elegant as the holoimages Poe had seen back home. The troops escorting her dispersed, giving the trio enough leeway to approach the General.

Poe finally understood what it was like to face an icon that seemed to innately exude strength from her mere appearance. It was a familiar feeling, one he had encountered back a few days ago when he tried to steal a Y-wing from a powerful Jedi and her fierce friend.

Leia immediately met eyes with Rey and embraced her warmly. Letting go, Leia looked at Finn and firmly gripped his arms with the same tenderness.

The duo ushered Poe towards Leia and the formerly confident junk dealer turned into a bashful boy.

Leia understood, gently placing her hands on his shoulders (and perhaps imparting some of her fortitude on the newcomer), “Welcome to the Resistance, Poe Dameron. I see that you take after your mother.”

She turned to her followers and said, “Now we have a lot to talk about and we already have jobs lined up.” Resistance personnel and other delegates began following General Organa towards the Sundari city proper.

And that left Rey and Poe alone. (For some reason, Finn was inside the empty transport, probably having his own errands to do with BB-8. )

Maybe Finn’s comming his girlfriend again, Rey thought to herself.

Poe was looking at his old, black-brown boots. The poor guy must still be in shock after meeting Leia. It wasn't uncommon for people to be starstruck after meeting the Princess-turned-General.

Rey grinned, deciding to do something. Besides, she hadn’t thank Dameron for saving their skins back in Yavin.

She slowly wrapped her arms around him. It still startled Poe, since he reflexively lifted his arms in defense. But he slowly relaxed when reality sank in.

Oh, but he's definitely blushing too.

Sometimes even Rey surprises herself (by tuning down her sulky attitude from time to time).

“I think your mom would have been proud of you,” she whispered softly.

A small smile formed on Poe’s lips.

And inside the Resistance transport’s compartments, Finn and BB-8 secretly shared a thumbs up.

END.

#prsummerexchange17 #damereyevents #strong-bottle-of-jyn #damerey

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eastofthemoon · 8 years

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Cat’s Paw

Today’s fic is, believe it or not, not part of the Hair Care in Space fic. Today’s theme @platonicvldweek was Lions/Bonding so I ended up writing this AU one shot.

Title: Cat’s Paw

Series: Voltron Legendary Defender

Rating: G

Characters: Shiro, Keith, Red Lion and Black Lion

Summary: Shiro had decided his younger brother needed a pet. The hardest part would knowing which one was right for him.

“Alright, Buddy, we’re here,” Shiro said as he turned off the engine of the car and unlocked his seatbelt. He grinned as he pointed to the large brick building ahead. “Can you guess what your birthday present is?”

Keith narrowed his eyes as he read the sign aloud. “Altea Animal Shelter?”

“Yup,” Shiro said as he grinned and leaned against the steering wheel. “Our place isn’t big enough for a dog, but figured a cat would be just fine.”

Keith blinked in puzzlement. “Shiro, we already got a cat.”

“Well, Blackie is more my cat,” he said thinking of his large black cat that was no doubt taking a nap on his bed as they spoke, “so figured it’s about time you have your own.”

The 16 year old teen narrowed his eyes as he folded his arms. “Shiro, I don’t need a cat.”

Yes, you do, Shiro thought silently. He knew his little brother better than anyone and while the kid would always deny it, he had a soft spot when it came to animals. Shiro would have gotten him a pet years ago, but after their parents death he had a hard enough time trying to keep put food on the table let alone getting a pet.

They had taken in Blackie, but that was only because she had kind of adopted them by appearing at their doorstep. She just began to hang around them so often, Shiro ended up getting her a collar and letting her inside the house to make it official. It was almost like it was fate in a weird way.

Even still, she seemed to have a preference for Shiro than she did for Keith. She was never nervous around Keith or seemed to dislike him, but she did spent most of her time hovering wherever Shiro currently was.

Although, from the few times Blackie would nap while Keith read his books, the boy always seemed content to have her near him. Add to the fact that Keith was a bit of a loner in his school, and it only made perfect sense to get the kid his own cat.

Shiro gave a small smile as he patted his shoulder. “Keith, it’s okay,” he said, “I wouldn’t be making this a gift for you if we couldn’t handle a second cat.”

Keith wrinkled his nose. “But..we can’t afford it-”

“I got that promotion and pay raise last fall, remember?” Shiro said with a grin. “I did the math, trust me we can.” He tilted his head. “No pressure though. If you don’t want a cat, then I’ll get you something else for your birthday.”

Keith was silent as he stared back to the animal shelter. “It’s...really okay?”

“Yes,” Shiro said with a nod. “Let’s just go take a look. Worse case, we just don’t find a cat that suits you today.”

Keith chewed his bottom lip as he thought it over and gave a nod. “Alright,” he said as he undid his seatbelt. “Although, I wanted it stated for the record this wasn’t my idea.”

“Noted,” Shiro said as he ruffled Keith’s hair. “Let’s go get you a cat.”

Keith cracked a small smile before opening the car door.

08080808080808080808080808080808080808080

“Welcome to the Altea Animal Shelter!” the man exclaimed from behind the counter. “If you want a pet, we got the right one for you!”

Keith raised an eyebrow. “You sound like a car salesman.”

“Keith,” Shiro warned.

“Oh, I know,” the man continued and didn’t sound the least bit offended. “But that’s because I firmly believe that right pet exists for every person,” he said and then paused. “Well, except for my great aunt June, but she hated all animals...which was odd considering she was a vegetarian-”

“Um..hi,” Shiro greeted as he held out his arm. “I called earlier asking about getting my brother a cat? You’re Coran, correct?”

“Ah, yes, yes,” Coran said as he took the hand. “Sorry, I can get a bit sidetracked sometimes.” He glanced to Keith. “And I take it this is the birthday boy is it?”

“Yeah, that’s me,” Keith said as he looked around him to the back. “Are the cats back there?”

“Indeed they are,” Coran said as he opened the door and gestured for them to enter. “Follow me.”

Shiro offered Keith a smile as they entered and were greeted by the sounds of several cats meowing at them.

Keith kneeled as he looked into each cage in a thoughtful manner. “So..do I just pick up?”

“Yes, and no,” Coran explained. “We like to make certain all potential owners are able to form a strong bond with their chosen pet.” He twirled his mustache. “So, if there’s a certain cat that perks your interest, we have a backroom you go to to spend some one on one time with it.”

“And if it’s a good match, we get to take him or her home?” Shiro concluded as he looked at a tabby staring back at him.

“Precisely,” Coran said with a nod. “So, take a look around, young Keith, and see which one speaks to you.”

Keith raised a skeptical eyebrow. “And how will I know which one ‘speaks to me’?”

“You’ll know,” Coran insisted as he waved his hands. “Trust me on this.”

Keith looked uncertain until Shiro gave an encouraging nod. “Alright,” Keith replied as he stepped forward.

Shiro stood back and silently watched as Keith moved from cage to cage. Each cat would tilted their head curiously at him, but none seemed to spark Keith’s interest. As he got to the end of the room, Shiro started to fear maybe there wasn’t a cat here that interested his brother.

“Keith,” he said as the boy kept moving. “If you don’t see one here you like, we can try again in a month-”

A paw suddenly leaped from in between the bars and latched it’s claws onto the sleeve of Keith’s t-shirt. Everyone in the room froze as Keith turned his stunned face to the cat. The cat gave a meow as it seemed to refuse to let go of Keith’s shirt.

“Odd,” Coran muttered, “it’s not normally that direct.”

Shiro didn’t waste time to answer as he quickly rushed down the room, but to find Keith had already freed himself from the paw.

“You okay?” Shiro asked. “Did it scratch you?”

Keith looked a bit dazed as he looked to the cat. “No, SHE didn’t,” Keith said as he pointed to the name tag on the cage. “It’s a ‘she’ right?” he asked as he looked to Coran.

“Ah, yes, that’s Red,” Coran said as he moved closer. “A young cat that was recently brought in. Strong spirit, but a bit of a grump if you ask me.”

Shiro peered inside the cage to look at the cat. It was smaller than the other cats, but she had a pretty red tint to her fur with white paws and a white muzzle. She gave each of the humans a dignified stare as if it was a privilege to even look at her.

“Is she friendly?” Shiro asked as he grasped his chin.

Coran gave a nervous chuckle. “Define..friendly?”

Keith didn’t seemed bothered by the answer as he looked into the cage and smiled. “That one,” Keith said with his arms cross. “I pick her.”

Shiro rubbed his neck. “You sure, Buddy?” he asked. She didn’t seem that cuddly of a cat, and he didn’t want to have to worry about Keith getting himself scratched.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Keith confirmed as he looked to Coran. “Can I take her to the back?”

“Uh..certainly,” Coran replied as he went to unlock the cage, “but I will warn you, others have tried and well..” He sucked air between his teeth. “Let’s just say it didn’t go well.”

“I think this time it will,” Keith said as he reached inside and took Red out.

“I’ll see it when I believe it,” Coran replied.

08080808080808080808080808080808080808080

“I don’t believe it,” Coran said in amazement. “She hasn’t scratched him once.”

Shiro nodded sharing the sentiment. Keith sat in the room as Red purred happily in his lap. It was if the two had forged an instant bond. But considering how fast Blackie got attached to me, I’m not one to judge, Shiro thought.

Shiro went over next to Keith and kneeled. “So, we’re taking this one?”

Keith nodded as he scratched under Red’s chin. “I’m fairly certain she would chase after me if I didn’t take her home at this rate.”

“Alright, then,” Shiro said as he stood back up and looked to Coran. “If you have the papers, I’ll sign them and we’ll be taking this one.”

Coran still looked rather dazed until he clued in that Shiro was speaking to him. “Uh, right, yes, I’ll get those. Be right back!”

Shiro watched the man raced off as he turned back to Keith who was now letting Red nuzzle his face against hers.

“You really like her, huh?” Shiro asked amused.

Keith gave a shy smile as he set Red back down. “Yeah, don’t know how to describe it, but it just feels...natural.”

Shiro ruffled Keith’s hair as he laughed. “Naw, I get it, why do you think I keep Blackie around?”

Keith nodded and then frowned. “Do you think she and Red will get along?”

Shiro shrugged. “I’m sure they will, and if they don’t, there are ways to work around it.” He tugged at Keith’s arm to make him stand up. “Come on, let’s go get your kitty home.”

Keith gave a nodded as he held a protective arm around Red.

A week later, Shiro peeked into Keith’s room and smiled as he spied Keith reading on the bed, while Red was napping in his lap.

Shiro then chuckled as he glanced to Blackie that was sitting near his feet. “Topping his birthday present next year will be tough.”

Blackie meowed before beginning to purr around his legs. Shiro gave a grin before scooping her up in his arms. There really was nothing like having your own furry friend.

#platonicvldweek #day 2 #voltron #vld #keith kogane #takashi shirogane #fanfic

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cinephiled-com · 8 years

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New Post has been published on Cinephiled

New Post has been published on http://www.cinephiled.com/interview-iranian-director-asghar-farhadi-oscar-nominated-salesman/

Interview: Iranian Director Asghar Farhadi on His Oscar-Nominated ‘The Salesman’

When they are forced to move out of their flat, Emad (Shahab Hosseini) and Rana (Taraneh Alidoosti), a young couple living in Tehran, are forced to move into a new apartment. However, once relocated, a sudden violent act, somehow linked to the apartment’s previous tenant, dramatically changes the couple’s life, creating a simmering tension between them, even as the acting couple prepares to star in an Iranian production of Arthur Miller’s Death of a Salesman. Writer/Director Asghar Farhadi (A Separation, The Past), a master at exposing domestic discord through his multi-layered films, explores the psychology of vengeance and a relationship put under strain in his powerful new film, The Salesman (Forushande). Time magazine named 44 year-old Asghar Farhadi one of the 100 Most Influential People in the world in 2012, after his film, A Separation, won the Oscar and Golden Globe Award for Best Foreign Language Film, as well as numerous other awards. The Salesman is his seventh feature. I sat down with Farhadi and his translator in Los Angeles.

Danny Miller: Your films are all so original — sometimes shockingly so. Did you start with the idea of contrasting what this couple is going through with the production of Death of a Salesman that they’re performing in, or did that idea come to you later?

Asghar Farhadi: For a long time I’ve been wanting to make a film that had something to do with the theater. I started with the basic idea of a couple working on a play and then something happens in their lives that prevents them from appearing on stage.

How did you end up choosing Death of a Salesman?

I read a bunch of plays when I was trying to come up with what this couple was working on. I read a great number of plays until I got to Death of a Salesman. I had read it 20 years earlier, but after rereading it I knew this was what I had to use. There are so many connections between this play and my story. For example, the old man we see at the end of the film with his wife is basically an Iranian Willy Loman. I started to see the play as a kind of a mirror to the story that happens to my main characters. The main thing that my story and the play have in common is the theme of humiliation.

Is playwright Arthur Miller well known in Iran? Was that an existing translation of Death of a Salesman or one you created for the film?

Arthur Miller is very well known in my country. Every few years there are new translations of Miller’s play available in Iran. I think the last Arthur Miller production I heard about in Iran was a year ago — there are several production of American plays in Iran every year, they are very relevant to us and important.

Your two leads, played by Shahab Hosseini and Taraneh Alidoosti, give such extraordinary performances in this film. Hosseini is amazing but I can’t stop thinking about Alidoosti’s quiet and complex portrayal — so many layers. What’s your style with working with your actors — do they participate a lot in developing their characters?

I work a great deal with some of my actors, with others less so. I’ve worked with Shahab on several films so we’ve come to know each other’s language. We did have a great deal of rehearsal for this film but it might interest you to know that the main thing I worked with them on was playing the parts of Willy and Linda Loman. It mattered very much to me that they should appear like real theater actors. The person I probably worked with the most was the actor who plays the old man who comes in at the end of the film. This character could have been the Achilles heel of my film — his acting had to be just right. What’s important for me is that audiences watch my films and feel like they’re seeing life. I always tell my actors to imagine that they are in a documentary!

Our two countries have had a complex relationship, God knows, including now. Another thing that I love about your movies is that it gives more Americans the chance to see Iranian characters who are 100% relatable and living lives so similar to our own. When you’re making your movies, do you consciously think about how they might be perceived in other countries?

Yes, I am always aware of this but the reason I make films is never to demonstrate that we are like other people. In my opinion it’s certain politicians and the media that have constructed this erroneous image. And there’s certainly a segment of the Iranian population who may have erroneous impressions about Americans. When you look at these two peoples through the lens of politics, you end up with a very one-dimensional perspective. But it’s very interesting — in terms of emotionality, I find that Iranians and Americans really resemble each other.

As much as I completely related to this film and these characters, do you think there might be things about the story that we don’t get the same way because of differences in our cultures?

It’s possible that certain audiences may see some things as palpably as Iranian audiences. The sense of shame is something that is present for humans everywhere, but I feel that in my country and in some other countries in the East, it’s stronger. So, for instance, when the woman doesn’t directly explain to her husband what happened in the bathroom, I think it’s something that may be more understandable to an Iranian audience than it is to an American audience.

Oh, that’s so interesting. I think that many of us may understand that scene but in a totally different way — using our awareness of how trauma can close people down emotionally, but not as a cultural thing. Another thing that I love about your movies is that there’s never a black and white good versus bad, all the characters are way more complex than that. When you go to screenings around the world, do you get different reactions related to the morality of what’s happening in the story?

The feedback I’ve received in America and Iran is very similar. There are also some differences in opinion with both audiences. In American and Iran, some audience members judge the main character for his desire for revenge and in the moment that he slaps the other man. But some people in both countries say that’s the very least he should have done. But I found in Europe, for example, most of the people in the audience were completely against the slap.

Fascinating!

That’s partly why I’m saying that Iranians and Americans perhaps resemble each other more in terms of their emotions, I often have very similar reactions to my films in both countries as opposed to other parts of the world.

I first saw the film just before our recent election and since then I’ve been thinking about it differently, including the whole Willy Loman ethic that’s going on that led to our current situation. Coming from a country where I assume you’ve had similar issues with your government, do you have any advice for those of us now who are in disagreement with where we’re headed?

There’s only one way for the world to become a better place — and that is for humanity to be placed at the very top and for everything else to be placed below it. Without that, the world will never be a good place. When ideology is at the top of the pyramid and then humanity, the first thing that happens is that it divides the people into two distinct camps: Muslims and non-Muslims, Christians and non-Christians, and so on. Or imagine that politics is at the top and humans are beneath that. That will again start dividing people into camps: Americans, Mexicans, Iranians, Blacks, Whites, Immigrants, etc. I think that all of our struggles should be working to place humanity at the top of the pyramid.

And a great way to do that is through art. I hope that filmmakers like you continue to help us get out of our polarized stances a little bit and look at human issues that cross all barriers.

I hope that the this period ends up being a positive, beneficial experience for American society as it tries to become acquainted with itself.

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The Salesman is now playing in selected cities. It is one of five films nominated for the Best Foreign Language Film Academy Award but as of this morning, there was much doubt that Asghar Farhadi would be allowed to attend the awards because of the executive order that the President signed yesterday.

#Academy Awards #Asghar Farhadi #Shahab Hosseini #Taraneh Alidoosti #The Salesman #Interviews #What's Hot

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Paul McGill, a Broadway veteran since the age of 17, kicks up his heel on 45th Street, as part of a terrific video (see below) by the cast of “A Chorus Line” 2006 Broadway revival. This is just one of the many steps that members of the theater community are taking to raise morale, keep busy, and kick start a whole new era of theater-making in the face of devastating challenges.

Free Shakespeare in the Park has been canceled, for the first time in its 58 years – news that hits hard, and the sharpest sign that New York theater is unlikely to reopen until the Fall at the earliest.

The Public Works musical adaptation of “As You Like It,” one of the two productions planned for Shakespeare in the Park that the Public Theater has canceled. “This is something I mightily resisted,” said artistic director Oskar Eustis. But the timing just didn’t work.

This includes Broadway, which even the head of the Broadway League now concedes. In an interview this past week, the trade association’s Charlotte St. Martin said: “As late as two weeks ago we were thinking that with any luck we might be up by July and that a worst case scenario might be September. Now the best guesses are that unless there’s serious testing and information that we don’t currently have, we’re probably looking at September or later.”

Once theater officially returns, the question becomes: Will audiences?

A survey of DC-area theatergoers found that “around half (49 percent) suggest they will probably wait a few months or more before returning while only a quarter (25 percent) think they will attend right away.”

“Constraint Breeds Creativity”

In the meantime, theaters are responding in creative ways. A survey of 168 theaters across the country conducted by TCG, found that 67 percent are “exploring performance alternatives and virtual programming,” which helps explain the explosion of online theater. (See my Where To Get Your Theater Fix Online and Calendar of April “Openings”)

Other findings from the survey:

Cancellations: 88 percent had cancelled performances that had already been scheduled (It’s surprising that 12 percent had not; perhaps they didn’t have any scheduled in the Spring?)

Compensation: “56 percent had committed to some kind of compensation for artists, production staff, etc. involved with cancelled performances; 18 percent had committed to full compensation, and 38 percent had committed to partial compensation. Thirty percent of respondents expressed a desire to provide compensation but were not sure they would be able to do so in light of revenue losses, and 13 percent expressed a desire to provide compensation but knew they would not be able to do so.”

One of those answering the survey was quoted as saying: “There’s a strong feeling that we’re all in this together. And I do believe that some creative solutions for how we make and share art will emerge out of this. Constraint breeds creativity.”

Another way to look at it: “We’re all in intermission right now….everybody loves a second act,” Lin-Manuel Miranda says in a radio spot sponsored by the Broadway League. “If there’s one thing we can be sure of, Broadway will be back, and New York City will be back and the world will be back.”

In the meantime, to donate money, supplies or time — Coronavirus.health.ny.gov

To help theater people in need, Broadwaycares.org

https://www.theproducersperspective.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/04/Only-Intermission-Video.mp4

Awards Season Begins

New York Drama Critics Circle Awards:Heroes of the Fourth Turning. Strange Loop. The entire theater community for perseveranceThe

Lucille Lortel Award Nominations 2020, Off-Broadway’s Best: “A Strange Loop” NS “Heroes of the Fourth Turning” lead nominations

The nominations for the 65th annual Drama Desk Award will be announced on Tuesday and for the Drama Leagues’ newly named Gratitude Awards on Thursday.

Despite a truncated season, more than half the major theater awards are going ahead in one form or another. Check out my guide to New York Theater Awards 2020

Fighting the Virus

Danny Burstein as the impresario Harold Zidler in Moulin Rouge

Broadway star Danny Burstein on his harrowing experience with COVID-19, which he recounts straightforwardly, and with lots of humor. (He’s now out of the hospital, recuperating) https://t.co/UR3YSPTGNE pic.twitter.com/BPh4IM76xv

— New York Theater (@NewYorkTheater) April 13, 2020

Nick Cordero

Nick Cordero’s fight against COVID-19 has been more up and down, as his wife has recounted on her Instagram account over the last several weeks. More than 6,000 people have donated a total of more than $350,000 to the Cordero’ family‘s GoFundMe account.

Nick was without question the best thing about “Bullets Over Broadway.” Here is in 2014 re-creating “Ain’t Nobody’s Business If I Do” for Broadway in Bryant Park:

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A Dissident Company Celebrates 15 Years Underground The Belarus Free Theater had ambitious plans for its anniversary. The coronavirus stopped them, but the troupe is used to finding ways to keep going in tough times.

For Kicks

A Chorus Line in Quarantine

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Broadway Alphabet Series continues

Happy 150th birthday, Metropolitan Museum of Art. Thanks for the 5,000 years of artwork about actors and the theater., by Picasso, Renoir, Degas, and by artists whose names are lost to history

Broadway Night 1929 by John Marin

Spanish Music Hall by Everett Shinn, 1902

Kabuki actor around 1849

The Old Actress 1926 by Max Beckmann

One World Together At Home Highlights: Watch Paul McCartney. Elton John. Stevie Wonder. Lizzo. Taylor Swift. Shawn Mendes and Camila Cabello