#the photographer was very happy i drew her photos and now we are mutuals

[gonzart]

Day 13: Fanart

WOOZE WOOZE WOOZE

[lisbonsteresa]

We Keep This Love (In a Photograph) (Nancy x Ace)

The first time he finds the photo is the day after the food festival. 

He arrives at the Claw late, rushing to shove his jacket into his locker and get to the kitchen before George notices his absence, when something crinkles unexpectedly in the pocket. Reaching in, he pulls out the polaroid - a bit wrinkled, the right corner completely folded over - but still in one piece even after the events of the day before. He stares at it for a moment, crouching in front of his open locker, trying to recall when he had acted on the impulse to grab it off the coffee table in their rush to leave, and before he can stop to realize what he’s doing he’s studying the picture’s subject instead. Hair falling into her eyes, dirt from the tunnels still smeared across her face, her features set in an expression of determined focus as she dug into the box of files Carson had procured for her, still looking so perfectly…Nancy. A small grin crosses his face as he remembers her amused reaction to the flash of the camera turning into a sincere smile as Carson told her how proud of her he was - Because of her testimony. The grin drops off his face as the memories of the rest of the day rush back into sharp focus. The sense of uselessness he’d felt as he’d dangled from that railing and watched his life be traded for the lives of countless others; the terrifying amount of finality he’d heard in her ‘I couldn’t lose you.’; the way there was no doubt in his mind about what “favor” Celia had asked for in return - a favor that for all he knows Nancy could be fulfilling right this moment. 

As if summoned by his own despondent thoughts, the door to the storeroom suddenly bursts open and Nancy rushes in, her coat hanging off of one arm as she fastens her hair into a hurried bun. Her mad dash stops short upon seeing him, and as their eyes meet he’s suddenly overwhelmed by all the things he wants to say to her; all the things he held back the day before while Grant was around. The questions of  ‘How could you -’ and ‘Why would you -’ and the arguments starting with ‘This will ruin your -’ and ‘I’m not worth -’ cycle around each other in his mind, and he can tell that something’s about to slip out his mouth but he can’t make the connection between them to know what it’ll be - And then suddenly he doesn’t have to. George’s annoyed voice rings out from the kitchen, and he’s never heard the phrase ‘saved by the boss’ before, but after this he might consider adopting it. He quickly crumples the photo into a ball and tosses it into his locker, following it with his jacket as if burying the image would help him bury the feelings it brought up. He gives Nancy a curt nod, avoiding whatever he might have seen in her eyes as he turns and heads towards the stairs, knowing there was a difference between delaying something and running away from it, but not quite sure which side this was falling on.

——————————————————————

It’s several months before he sees it again. Long enough for Everett Hudson’s first case to be declared a mistrial due to jury tampering, and for the time between it and his retrial to be just enough to allow Nick and Ryan to find a smoking gun hidden in Tiffany’s files that put the Hudson patriarch away for his full sentence (officially, at least). Long enough for Amanda to turn to him on her doorstep two weeks after the trial and tell him that she and Gil were leaving - finally following up on his lead in Santa Fe. There were kisses goodbye and offers to help in any way he could, but they both agreed it would be better for her to focus on finding her mother, and at this point it’s been long enough that he’s starting to feel like he’s doing okay after the breakup. He’s starting to feel like everything’s back to…whatever passes for normal in Horseshoe Bay. At least, he is until Nancy announces - midway through George’s mandated After Hours End-of-Summer-Cleaning Locker Inspection, no less - that she’s gotten into Columbia. 

His hand had just closed around a crumpled ball of paper in the back of his locker when the words leave her mouth, and the ball stays in his hand even as he joins in on the group hug an ecstatic Bess initiates; as he tells Nancy how happy he is for her; as he reassures George that he’ll close up so she can ride with Nick to the celebration he’s sure Carson has planned for Nancy back at their place. 

It isn’t until he’s left alone in the storeroom and he drops down onto the bench in front of his locker that he notices how tightly he’s been gripping the paper. Or the…not paper, he corrects himself as he notices the different texture of whatever he was holding. A sneaking suspicion comes from the back of his mind as he starts to smooth out the ball, and once the image is revealed in full - slightly faded with the right corner ripping off altogether after he pulls a bit too hard -  he has to fight the urge to crumple the photo again and toss it into the trash. 

Which is a weird impulse, isn’t it? Because he was happy for her, of course he was. This was Nancy’s dream school, after all, and after the year that she’s had, doesn’t she deserve to do what makes her happy? To move on with her - His thoughts stutter to a stop. He shakes his head and tries again. After all, hasn’t he - haven’t they all - known this was coming, sooner or later? Hasn’t he known from the start that Nancy was meant for bigger and better things? That she wasn’t going to hang around forever, not in this nowhere small town, with her ragtag group of friends and the dishwasher who’s been at a standstill since high school -

He’s being unfair, he knows. Because Nancy doesn’t see it, any of it, like that. He knows how much Nancy cares; about Horseshoe Bay, about her friends…about him. She’d told him as much during the countless knock-down-drag-out arguments they’d had after the incident at the paper mill, hadn’t she? But he can feel annoyance - or maybe even anger -  rising up inside him, and if he doesn’t deflect it towards her, then he’ll have to confront himself, and he’s been avoiding that confrontation for months now. He’d have to actually think about why he’s been keeping Nancy at arm’s length even after they’d both said their piece during those arguments. Why he’d been so insistent that they’d ‘gotten back to normal’ when he honestly wasn’t sure he had any idea of what ‘normal’ was for them. It certainly wasn’t the way she’d avoided his eyes when he’d congratulated her, but he wasn’t sure it was the way she had held onto his hand long after everyone else had left their hug either. He’d have to actually think about how he’d wasted so much time pretending there wasn’t still something to fix between them, and how he didn’t know what to feel now that he’s realized they’ve run out of time anyway.

When Amanda had left, it had felt like they were mutually closing a door - calm and maybe a little sad, but with both of them smiling and understanding on their respective sides. Knowing that Nancy was leaving felt like having to struggle with a door against hurricane-level winds, without a clue of what side he wanted to be on once he finally got it closed. But maybe that’s not a fair comparison to make, he rationalizes. After all, he and Amanda were together. He and Nancy have just been…  He looks back down at the polaroid, his thumb running along the torn edge as he considers just what exactly he and Nancy have been, before dragging a hand through his hair with a sigh. Too late to figure it out now, anyway.

He leans forward and slips the photo between the pages of a library book already overdue by a year at the bottom of his locker. So he’ll have something to remember her by, he tells himself, unsure if the unpleasant feeling that settles in his gut as he slams the locker shut is bitterness or just plain sadness.

——————————————————————

Life goes on in Horseshoe Bay, even without Nancy Drew. It’s not until late fall when he sees the photo again. He’s helping George and Nick with the Claw’s first official Allhallowtide event, spending his day helping kids decorate their lanterns whenever he’s not hyping Bess up over text for her ‘very preliminary, very probational, very terrifying!!!!!’ (her exclamation points, not his) first in-person meeting with Aunt Diana since she’d started slowly rebuilding their relationship. 

He’s sitting on the steps leading into the storeroom after one of their longer text exchanges, laughing when George calls out for him to make himself useful and find more markers, but he rises to follow her instructions anyway. It takes him all of 5 minutes to realize that they are completely marker-free, digging through every drawer and pencil holder in the room and coming up with nothing, before he remembers the pack of Crayolas he’s pretty sure survived his last locker clean-out. 

He unloads his jacket, a few books, and the jumbo pack of earplugs he’s been drawing from ever since that siren incident three weeks ago onto the bench to make it easier to find the markers, but the earplugs overbalance the books and everything comes toppling down before he can even look through what’s left in the locker. 

With a sigh, he leans over and picks up the old library book that fell face-down, watching curiously as a square of paper drops out from between the pages and back down onto the floor. A catalogue card, he wonders, or maybe a note someone stashed and forgot about? But as he picks it up and sees the torn right corner, he realizes that not only is it not regular paper, but that he knows exactly what he’s going to see before he flips the item over. 

A shock runs through him all the same once he does, seeing Nancy’s face for the first time in months. He doesn’t have more than a moment to think about that though, as his phone erupts with seven text tones in rapid succession at the same time George’s shouts for him to hurry up reach the storeroom. After a tiny moment of hesitation, he slides the polaroid into his back pocket and shoves everything else back into the locker before making his way back to the dining room, marker-less and contrite. 

That was a mistake. He spends the rest of the day hyperaware of what he’s holding onto, patting his pocket for reassurance it hasn’t slipped out so many times that one of Ted’s friends asks him - with all the seriousness a 9-year old can muster - if he is also suffering from the ‘wedgie-saurus’. 

It isn’t until that night, after he insists that he’ll close up the Claw so Nick and George can stay with her sisters at the lantern-lighting event, that he has a moment alone to actually look at the picture. He straddles the storeroom bench, placing it down in front of him and resting his elbows on his knees so he can lean in close as a sudden wave of guilt hits him. He remembers the way their text conversations had petered out after long stretches of one-word or emoji-only replies; the way her calls had slowly become less and less frequent until they stopped altogether. He still gets weird looks from the others when he makes excuses to avoid their video calls with her; can still hear Bess’s overly-sympathetic voice after she’d spent a long weekend in New York telling him that everything was fine, that Nancy just misses him.

He misses her too; of course he does. Some days he misses her so much the ache of it catches him by surprise. Like when he'd realized his habit of watching the door for the first ten minutes of every shift, still expecting her to rush through it with her name tag missing and an excuse at the ready. When he made a Big Lebowski reference at dinner one night and got nothing other than a confused smile from his mother in response. When he was researching something at the end of the bar and felt a phantom presence at his shoulder, like she was just outside his peripheral, leaning up against him and waiting impatiently for him to turn towards her and give her the answer she was looking for. 

It didn’t seem possible for someone he’d known for barely a year to have become such a big part of every aspect of his life, but everywhere he’s turned for months there seems to be another reminder of Nancy Drew.

And that just makes everything worse. Because he hadn’t been able to give her the answers she might have needed before she left. And now, now that he’s had the time to figure those answers out, now that they kept him up at night, running endlessly through his head while he stares dejectedly at the ceiling, he doesn’t know if they’re still the same answers she was looking for now. And he’s terrified by the thought that they might not be. He’s gotten himself caught in a mystery he doesn’t know how to solve on his own.

But maybe… His thoughts are interrupted by the chime of the clock hanging above the back door, and he starts when he realizes nearly an hour has passed since he first sat down. Glancing at the photo again, he waits for the urge to tuck it back between the pages of that book; to push his feelings down and avoid having to confront them, but it doesn’t come. 

Something else clicks into place with the last chime of the clock, and holding the polaroid in one hand, he unlocks his phone with the other, ignoring Bess’s 5 recap and 2 goodnight texts for the moment while he taps the contact info for the only other person he’s sure will be awake at midnight on a Tuesday. 

She picks up on the first ring. “Ace?” 

Her voice sounds tired, maybe even a little worried, but so deeply familiar his heart jumps into his throat just at the sound of her saying his name. “Hey, Nancy.” he begins, unable to hold back a small smile as he looks down at her picture. “Can we talk?”

Maybe he doesn’t have to solve this one alone.

Maybe neither of them do.

——————————————————————

Nancy’s bright hair makes her easy to spot, even from his position across the train platform. He watches as she peers through the crowd, noticing him with a grin and a tiny wave, before he pushes off from the wall and starts to make his way over to meet her. 

He’d practically had to fight Ryan to be the one picking her up, he imagines telling her as she laughs. The man had been ready to push him down in the driveway until Carson had stepped in to - heavily, mind you - imply that maybe Nancy and Ace could use a little ‘alone time’. 

That part he might keep to himself, actually. It was bad enough that Carson acted like he was in on some big secret every time he got off the phone with his daughter; he didn’t need her wondering why both her father figures were trading smug smiles every time the four of them were in a room together. 

He realizes too late that he’d gotten caught up in his thoughts and that Nancy was suddenly standing less than a foot away from him. “Hi.” he murmurs, the memory of their last - somewhat awkward - reunion tugging at the back of his mind. (He almost wished his arm was still in a sling. Then at least he’d only have to worry about what to do with one of his hands).

“Hi.” she replies in the same tone, her own hands twisting nervously in the strap of her bag, but a beaming smile on her face. It was the same smile he’d seen during their almost daily video calls for the past month and a half, but he hadn’t thought to prepare for the way it makes his heart flip to see it directed at him, live and in person.

“H-how’s Columbia?” he manages to only stumble over the first word, but it doesn’t really seem to matter because suddenly Nancy’s dropped her luggage and launched herself at him, throwing her arms around his neck and clinging to him while his arms instinctively wrap around her, pulling her closer still as he breathes in the fact that this is really happening, that it’s not a dream he’s going to wake up from to find the calendar mockingly reminding him there was another three days until her holiday break started.

He’s not sure how long they stay there, wrapped up in each other while the rest of the world moves around them, but when they finally pull away he knows his smile is as bright as hers. There’s a lot they still have to share - he hasn’t told her about his first day interning with John Sander yet, and she has a copy of the Daily Spectator with her first front page article stowed safely in her bag - and a lot - the distance, their schedules, missing each other - that they still have to figure out. But as he holds out his hand and Nancy takes it in hers, intertwining their fingers as if it was the most natural thing in the world, Ace can’t find it in himself to worry. 

Whatever happens, they’ll figure out a way to solve it. Together.

——————————————————————

(She finds the photo less than a week later; sees it hanging on the inside of his locker when she stops by the Claw to help them decorate for the holidays. Bess is beside herself at somehow being one of the last to know, but Ace can’t really focus on anything other than the look in Nancy’s eyes as she pulls him in for a kiss.)

[xt1erminator-blog]

My History With D&D: How I Got Started

This should have been my introductory post on this blog, but, lazy.

It was a dark and stormy night.

No really, it was a dark and stormy night. I'm not just pretending to be Snoopy writing a novel. Anyhow, I recall being over at an elementary school friend's house for a sleep over I believe. Must have been 10 or 11 years old. There were three or four of us, and my friend, we'll call him Willy, was Dungeon Master. I had no actual playing experience before this night (the only time I had run into this strange game was several years earlier when I was over at the neighbour's house and their much older teenage kids were sitting around the kitchen table with their friends, the table cluttered with big books and weird shaped pieces of plastic and small metal figurines, and bottles and cans of pop and chips and all sorts of delicious looking junk food... it was similar to that scene in E.T. where the kids are playing D&D [not the photo above! - that’s from Freaks & Geeks] except it was daytime). And here I was now, sitting in a camper trailer in the middle of a big thunder/rain storm being shown how to make something called a "character". I have no recollection what race or class this character was, or his name.  I do remember though that he used a mace as his weapon and wore chainmail, and had iron rations. Maybe he was a cleric. I think it was red box Basic D&D we were playing.

I think I might have played a total of two or three games at Willy's place. Mostly with the same other friends playing it each time. The last game we played was using the 1st Edition AD&D rule books, and it was way over my head at the time. I remember stealing money from my paper route collections (which were probably due at the end of the week) and buying my own red box Basic D&D set and some dice, and I played the solo adventure for awhile (damn rust monster!) and then just hid out in the basement with a stack of graph paper, and drew out dungeon after dungeon after dungeon. They all sucked, I’m sure. I think the next major book purchase was the 2nd Edition Player's Handbook. And then the Monstrous Manual binder. Man, I hated that binder. What an awful format. I mean, great for organizing, being able to take out monster sheets and add in new ones, etc. but functionality-wise, it was a disaster. The binder didn't sit well with the other books on a shelf and whatever lamination they used for the exterior of the cover got very scuffed up if you put it in a backpack and it looked like ass in no time flat. The good old days. I would borrow other books and modules from anyone who was willing to let me take them away from them for any length of time, and sit there and read parts of them, mostly paying attention to the cool maps and the artwork. I remember photocopying many a module at the public library too.

So for several years after, I would mostly just read the books, and Dragon and Dungeon magazines, and attempt to create my own maps and even once or twice spent some money on miniatures and tried to paint them. Massive fail. If I would have know that the Ral Partha Forgotten Realms Heroes miniatures set I bought for $15 back in the late 80's/early 90's (whenever it was) would be worth hundreds of dollars almost 30 years later, I would have taken greater care with how much primer I carelessly sprayed on to those poor little figures, getting the shit all over my dad’s workshop tool bench (sorry Wulfgar, Drizzt, Dragonbait, Alias, etc.!) and how much paint I recklessly slapped on to them thinking I was doing things right. Ouch.

I tend to ramble so I'll try to summarize everything else up until now with a bit less detail. After elementary school came high school and there wasn't a lot of action when it came to playing Dungeons & Dragons, well with cool people I mean. There was a small group at the first high school I attended, that would play a game in the art room in the lower level of the school. I sat in once, maybe twice, to check it out. Wasn't my bag. These were the stereotypical super geeky, taped-up-eyeglasses nerds that were more interested in dissecting the rules and not playing with any real imagination it seemed. They were kind of like robots. Plus, not very fun when you have 45 minutes for a lunch break to try and make any progress in an adventure. I heard about others in this school who played, but I was never invited to go play in anyone's campaign. I stopped in a few times to see what was going on with another friend's home game, but didn't end up playing because they were a little too into roleplaying. Most of the playing I did happened later in my teenage years when I ended up playing in late night sessions with some older seniors at another school I went to, and then some games here and there with a bunch of fellows who have since turned out to be what you might call "life long friends". The good guys. Then, in my early 20's, I was the first of anyone I knew to do something incredibly stupid: meet a girl on the internet (1997), marry her and move to another country.

From that point on, I guess I lost interest in the hobby. I had always wanted to run my own game, but no opportunities ever arose, or I didn't have anywhere to play or I was just too on edge to be able to compose myself if a game were to actually take formation. I spent a lot of my time learning how to play musical instruments and often partied. Often. I don't regret it, those were some of the best times I've had. Years passed and I really didn't think about D&D or playing any sort of table top game at all. I grew more fond of digital entertainment, PC games, console games, etc.  I ended up attempting to become somewhat of a "photographer", and after many years I think I'm happy with where I am at with that particular hobby. It was one of those things you never thought to pursue and then one day, you end up spending several hundred dollars on a friend's used DSLR body and a strange, big zoom lens you have no clue how to use properly.

After almost six years and a "should have seen that one coming" style divorce, I returned back home and was again surrounded by my long time friends. It took a little bit of adjustment to get back into the circle with everyone - just picking up and leaving the country when you're 22 years old and supposed to be starting to explore your options for a career and everything, can kind of make a mess of your social connections.  I ended up getting back on my feet pretty quickly though, and found work a month and a half after coming home. I'm still there actually, almost 15 years later.

So, how did I reconnect with my beloved hobby?  It was almost two years ago or so (summer of 2015, I don't know if Tumblr dates these blog posts, I don't think so). My wife's step brothers had asked if she knew anyone who had ever played Dungeons & Dragons. She mentioned to them that I did. She asked on their behalf if I would run a game for them, they were curious and hadn't played before. I declined, no way no how. Been out of touch with it for years. Didn't play anymore. Made up some excuses. Left it at that. I had never run my own games before and had no confidence that I could be very effective when trying to introduce newcomers in to the game.

Then, at the end of that summer, another opportunity arose. Some mutual friends/family expressed interest in trying out the new 5th Edition of Dungeons & Dragons. They had been watching Critical Role online and somehow it came up in discussion.  I had spent the last few months recalling my love for the game from my past, and ended up being much more receptive to the idea. I was much older, had been through a lot of situations in my life where things like social interaction was easier for me to become comfortable with, and I was developing a passion for it again, it seemed. After downloading the free basic 5e rules, and researching some things on YouTube, I was all for it. Our first session was on my 39th birthday at the beginning of October, 2015. It has snowballed into an addiction since then. I have invested a lot of my time (and money) into a small collection of books and miniatures, and some writing to fuel a small Forgotten Realms campaign. We don't play often, maybe every month and a half to two months, as it depends heavily on my wife's work schedule and when she can book a weekend off. I don't like playing on weekday evenings, as I'm usually pretty burned out from work or there just isn't much time to get into a good game before having to cut it short because people have to work the next day.

My Forgotten Realms campaign, currently one of two games I run, started out with three characters: a dwarven sorcerer, a half-orc druid and a gnome rogue. For the first session or two, I attempted to incorporate a PC that I was playing, a cleric of Bane. His appearance was very brief, as I decided it was not going to work well, playing a character while trying to hold down the fort being Dungeon Master and running the show. I'm not at that stage yet. So, I sent the cleric off in the night to go tend to an important mission while the rest of the party carried on. I used the majority of the 5e Starter Set module, Lost Mine of Phandelver. It did the job. I twisted it up a bit and definitely didn't follow it as per the booklet, and I still do that to this day. My style when using pre-written adventures, it seems, is to grab bits and pieces that are essential, and do the rest on the fly and change as necessary based on what the players may do to throw things off. And that's a good thing. It's helping me build skills to become a better Dungeon Master that can adapt to different scenarios, because it almost always doesn't go the way you plan it will go. I learned that early on. After a few months of playing and completing the Wave Echo Cave area, a situation arose that brought the party through a portal leading to the entrance to the Undermountain dungeon, located underneath The Yawning Portal in the great city of Waterdeep. This was an opportune moment to introduce a new player to the group, which happened thanks to a spur of the moment idea I had, to invite an old friend who I knew was a fan of what we were doing. I wasn't sure if he was up for joining the group, but you don't know until you ask, right? The next session, without saying too much of anything, the door bell rang and moments later the group now had a paladin amongst their ranks. It's been a way better game since.

The second campaign I'm going to start running over the next few weeks will be based upon the Eberron setting, which up until last week I had personally shrugged off any time it came up in my travels, and had no interest in even reading what it was about. I'm not sure why that is, I think the brief encounters I had with it previously were based on flipping through some 3rd Edition books, and I just wasn't picking up on what it was all about. I have never been much into anything 3e, the look and design of the books are unappealing to me. This past week though, one of my players and I got ahold of the 4th Edition Eberron Campaign and Player's guides, and I started reading them. I am really liking the setting and am looking forward to trying to use it in a new game. Lightning Rails, Airships, Warforged, Shifters, Dragonmarks - very cool stuff!  Also of help here was a video on Nerdarchy’s YouTube channel where the guys discuss 10 Reasons Why 5th Edition Needs Eberron

This leads to my next post: What Might Eberron For 5e Be Like?

Coming soon!

-runDMsteve

[seriouslyhooked]

Wedded Bliss and Asterisks (A Modern CS AU) Part 9/?

Emma Swan is an enemy of love who just happens to be an up and coming wedding dress designer. She’s convinced that a fairytale kind of romance is nowhere in her future but when she meets Killian Jones, whose magazine is covering the opening of her new boutique, things change. Suddenly Emma finds herself drawing up new plans for her life, ones that seem to all be leading towards her own form of wedded bliss. Rated M.

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven. Part Eight. Also on FF Here.

A/N: Hey all! This chapter brings us some big steps. First and foremost, it signals the publication of Killian’s article. In the aftermath of that we get even more fluff and some smut for good measure. This chapter is all from Emma’s POV, but no worries, Killian’s will be back next chapter. I hope you guys enjoy and thanks for reading!

Humming to herself lightly on Monday morning, Emma sat in her office sketching at random. The images she drew on the page weren’t thought out dresses or objects, but a variety of swirling designs. Emma was too lost in the memories of the past weekend to create anything specialized right now and instead she let herself linger in the same happy mood she’d had the past few days while her pencil dragged across the page of its own free will.

It was so easy to give into this joyful state given the way things were right now, and that feeling of comfort and rightness changed the way Emma engaged with her morning so far. She’d gotten up bright and early after a somewhat restless night without Killian. There was a tangible difference between the quality of sleep she’d had Saturday compared to last night, but the tension and fatigue all melted away when she met him on the train this morning:

“I think we might have a real problem, love.” Killian claimed in the middle of their ride.

“Oh?” Emma asked, not worrying about whatever he was about to say thanks to the warm look in his cerulean eyes and the gentle feel of his hand in hers.

“I may very well never sleep easy again without you there beside me. You’ve ruined me for normal nights.”

In the face of such a sweet remark, Emma pulled Killian in closer for a kiss right there in the train car. It was light and relatively reserved, but it still left both of them smiling at each other. If she was an outsider looking in Emma likely would poke fun at two people making eyes at each other, but it felt too good to pull back from.

“I think we can probably arrange another night together sooner rather than later,” Emma said, her thumb running back and forth against his in a soothing motion.

“I’m thrilled to hear it, Swan. In fact, that might be the only thing that gets me through the day.”

From there things moved too quickly, and they pulled into Emma’s stop before much more could happen, agreeing to see each other soon. Emma then arrived at Bliss at her normal time and through some lucky happenstance none of her friends were directly in her path once she passed through the front doors. Emma bee-lined for her office after a bit of conversation with Tiana and now here she was, sketching and daydreaming before her appointments for the day came through. But though she’d deftly managed to avoid her friends up to this point, Emma knew it was only a matter of time before they…

A knock sounded at the door as if Emma willed her friends into appearing and she smiled as she told whoever it was to come inside. Immediately Ruby, Mary Margaret, and Elsa filed into the room, shutting the door behind them quickly and all setting their gazes on Emma intently.

“So…?” Mary Margaret prompted and Emma feigned ignorance.

“So, what?”

“Okay, enough of the act, Emma. You are giving us answers and you’re giving them now. We want a damn play-by-play already. No more coy diversions. What did you do this weekend?”

Emma looked at her three friends for another beat before caving and giving them the answers that they wanted. Some of her moments with Killian she protected, keeping details close to the vest so that they could stay private and just between she and him. However, her friends were more than held over with what Emma did impart. By the end of her summary they were practically beside themselves, allowing their excitement to bubble over into an almost ridiculous level of giddiness.

“He took you to the Gardens? How did Killian even know about your going there all the time?” Elsa asked, and Emma shook her head.

“He didn’t. It was a coincidence. He thought I’d like to go and he was right. He just didn’t realize I’d been doing so for a while.”

“Why do I get the feeling that you enjoyed yourself more than you usually do?” Mary Margaret countered and Emma shrugged.

“Because I did,” Emma confirmed. Elsa and Mary Margaret both sighed happily in the face of Emma’s comment, and surprisingly Emma didn’t feel an active need to roll her eyes. Damn, clearly she was in pretty deep if she was taking the heat like this and not actively retreating from it.

“So in this little weekend-long love fest, did you find out anything else about the article?” Ruby asked.

“Nope. He was pretty tight-lipped, but I don’t think there’s any reason to doubt what it’s going to say. I trust Killian and I know whatever he wrote is going to be great.”

The silence that followed Emma’s assessment, coupled with the slack-jawed gapes from Mary Margaret and Elsa made Emma slightly uncomfortable for the first time in the past few days. She shifted in her chair a little before finally asking them what was wrong.

“Nothing it’s just… you’re letting him in,” Mary Margaret said, clearly stunned but thrilled at the prospect, and from the nodding of Ruby and Elsa, Emma assumed they were all thinking along the same lines.

“And that’s a bad thing?” Emma asked, already anticipating their reply.

“No!” Her friends all yelled at the same time.

“It’s a great thing - totally great - but also not a big deal. Just you know, good, but not necessary. Like we’re happy for you, but we are managing expectations,” Elsa’s incoherent ramblings were something Emma had run into before, and she had mercy on her friend who lacked any ability to play a situation cool.

“It’s alright, Elsa, I’m not going to freak out. You can act natural,” Emma said and Elsa immediately sagged in relief.

“Oh thank God. I was barely holding it together,”

“Ya think?” Ruby asked but before she could give Elsa too much crap, another knock came at the doorway and Tiana appeared with a sly smile.

“You’ve got a delivery, boss.”

Emma accepted the box Tiana extended towards her trying hard not to blush as her friends oohed and ahhed about the parcel they all assumed was from Killian. It was a soft cream color, with matching white ribbon to tie it closed, and there in the bow was another rose. The blossom contrasted beautifully with the rest of the box and Emma immediately removed it, putting it in a safe spot on the edge of her desk. She was dying to open this package and see what lay inside, but when Emma tried to wait for her friends to leave, they all remained just where they were, Tiana included.

“Seriously guys?” Emma asked.

“Seriously,” Ruby replied. Emma shook her head smiling at her friends’ persistence as she opened the box up and found five copies of this week’s Citizen NY that wasn’t supposed to be out until the next day. Attached was a small note from Killian that made Emma chuckle lightly.

If anyone asks, these fell off the back of the truck. -Killian

“Jackpot! Knew there was another definite plus of you sleeping with the writer,” Ruby mused.

“Ruby!” Emma yelled and her friend grinned as she stole four of the copies and distributed them to the others.

“What? You said he stayed the night so I’m not wrong.” Ruby must have read Emma’s intent to set the record straight so she made one last claim in an attempt to deflect. “Plus you know the longer you fight with me, the longer you have to wait to see what he said, right?”

Well with an argument like that, how could Emma disagree? Instead of doing so she frantically flipped to the story on a page that Elsa yelled out, having found it first and then dove into the spread.

The most prominent part at first was a picture of the four of them. They all looked happy and effortless, but it was a candid shot, one captured not when they’d all been paying attention but when they were working on something together without realizing the camera was turned their way. Emma vaguely remembered the moment, but she hadn’t realized Killian was paying attention. That whole day with the photographer, he was there with a vision, leading the cameraman towards the shots he wanted, and if this was the indication of what they’d reaped in that time, Emma and her friends were in for a treat.

“Oh my gosh this picture is perfect.”

Emma didn’t need to look up to know Mary Margaret would be teary eyed. Her love for the image was clear in her tone of voice and where Mary Margaret’s love came, happy tears often followed. Emma made a mental note to ask Killian if there was any chance they could get a digital copy of the photo. Mary Margaret would definitely want it, and any others that they might have gotten.

“Jeez, all of them are, look at this!” Elsa said excitedly, pointing at a picture the next page over with her and her latest cake creation. “And he even included my nickname. Major brownie points.”

“Even I make a cameo, and wow do we look good,” Tiana teased, pointing to a picture of her and Emma both considering one of Emma’s sketches, lost in their mutual train of thought.

“Okay, so how are we doing this?” Ruby asked and the friends looked at her for clarity. “We reading it together or silently devouring it alone?”

Mary Margaret made the decision for them all when she began reading the opening line.

‘With an estimated eighty thousand weddings happening in New York City last year alone, it’s clear that, despite popular opinion, finding love in the city of New York is possible.

‘Now, saying that doesn’t change the fact that two in five New Yorkers polled doubt the existence of true love, or that roughly fifty percent of your neighbors has a harrowing tale of love lost and heartbreak they’ll share with you while stealing your morning paper or causing a racket at all hours of the night. But it does lend a bit of hope in a city that could always stand for some more of it.’

“Wow he’s pretty good,” Elsa mused happily and Emma bit back her plea for them all to keep the commentary to themselves. She was desperate to read ahead, but for the sake of her friends she held back. Thankfully, Ruby pushed onwards, taking over the reading.

‘New York to many is known as the city of dreams. Some come here to live, to thrive, to flourish, others to fade away or perish all together. That’s the beauty of this city. Time spins on, new heroes rise and fall, some make it and some don’t, but the dreams remain all the same. Yet for four women on the corner of 4th and 71st street, New York is more than a place to build on a long cherished hope; it’s the site of an experiment with a model of love few (if any) have ever tried before - a one-stop shop for wedded bliss.

‘Matrimonial harmony is hardly a guarantee, but to Ruby Lucas, Mary Margaret Blanchard, Elsa Dellaford, and Emma Swan of Bliss Boutique in the Upper East Side, which opened it’s doors earlier this month, it’s a launching point, both in the lives of their clients and for a business they’ve all been building for over a year.’

Elsa took over the reading at this point, interrupting Ruby’s narration when she recognized the first quote in the story as one of hers.

‘You could say that Bliss is the culmination of one too many bowls of egg-free cookie dough,’ Dellaford states proudly when asked about the origins of such a scheme. ‘The idea first came to us a few years back. All of us were running ragged at our starter jobs, wishing we were back in the comfortable bubble of undergrad when we realized that our dream jobs didn’t just include our chosen industries, but closeness to each other too. That got us thinking – was there a way for all four of us to do what we love surrounded by the people who mean the most to us?’

“Oh Elsa, that’s so sweet,” Mary Margaret claimed, the tears now streaming down her face.

“Just wait. I say more nice stuff, I swear,” everyone shared a laugh as Elsa read on, proving herself right.

At the same time, Emma was glued to every word, soaking in the flattering picture that Killian presented not only of her friends, but of their work here. He seemed to understand what their vision was at the end of all of this, and it was amazing to read his words and have this window into what he truly thought. Though her friends were the ones reading, Emma swore she heard Killian’s voice in every syllable, and she was filled with butterflies and happiness all at once by the time the story got to her. Without needing to interrupt anyone, Emma picked up the narration aloud.

‘Though the dynamic of this shared venture is the unit of four pillars and four women devoted to one heart-felt and thoughtful wedding assembly line, perhaps the easiest sell for Bliss Boutique to women in the market for a wedding comes in the form of it’s designer, rising star Emma Swan…’

Emma trailed off, forgetting to speak and letting herself sink further into the words. Thankfully her friends didn’t push her to do anything else but there were the occasional comments that flittered in along with Killian’s words.

“Oh my god are you kidding me?! Elie Saab called you inspired, daring, and ‘one of the most romantic designers in the industry right now.’ That’s insane!” Elsa exclaimed.

“And so totally true,” Ruby countered before tossing her own comment on the article Killian had put forth. “But wow, Elie really holds back compared to Monique: ‘I don’t think I knew design envy until I saw my first E. Swan original.’”

Emma moved forward, tracking the details Killian had so intricately woven together. Her past was glossed over, though there was a mention of her being brought up in the system. It was by no means the focal point though, and if anything, Emma found herself reading a piece about her amazing talent that shone a light on her while also bringing her friends up with it. 

This story felt like validation in the purest form, and it was mixed with humor, a bit of teasing about some elements of this line of work, and a final quote of Emma’s that she was so happy he’d included. She thought it would get lost in everything else, but that message, that one that said people were in charge of their own happy endings, and that she and her friends were just here to help them make it for themselves, meant the world. It was a sure sign that Killian not only knew what she was trying to do here, but that he knew her too. This whole article was a love letter of sorts, and it left Emma almost speechless, caught as she was in his talent, kindness, and tremendous insights.

And then at the end, with two small asterisks, there was the line she’d been waiting to see for days now. What it said was basic enough, and would no doubt work for his other readers, but for Emma, it held so much more in it’s intricate depths:

**In the spirit of full-disclosure with out readers, Killian Jones has a steadily increasing romantic attachment to one of the subjects of this story. This fact did not, however, influence the tone or findings of this piece, even if he finds Emma Swan to be beyond enchanting and far too good for him.

“Wow. That was…” Mary Margaret began, pulling Emma from where she was running her fingertips along the disclosure line.

“That was freaking fantastic!” Ruby said assuredly. “Like ‘turn a major profit in our first year because we are never going to have free schedules’ kind of fantastic!”

Her friends tossed their excited analysis of the piece back and forth, and Emma was only vaguely aware of what was said. She was too caught up in this story, and in the man who’d made it possible. This all started as a mistake – something Emma actually worried might pull her and Killian apart before they really got a chance to see if there was anything between them. She’d rationalized that while her friends had good intentions, they’d jeopardized a fledgling relationship that was too fragile to bear that kind of burden. Now though, she saw that they’d really given her a gift.

To have this piece by Killian, to have this truth he’d offered to her and to thousands of people across the city, was amazing. She’d never had a man so publicly announce his admiration for her, and she’d never let anyone in enough for their opinions on who she was and what her dreams were to matter. But with Killian it did matter, and Emma was so relieved to see more proof of the man he was, the man who was quickly taking up space in her heart that she once believed would forever be empty.

“Emma?” Elsa asked and Emma’s eyes moved up from the pages of the magazine back to her friends. They were all looking at her expectantly and in that moment Emma knew what she had to do. She stood up and grabbed her jacket quickly from the hanger by the door.

“I have to go,” Emma said, without any more information and then she turned to Tiana. “Ti, can you handle the first appointment? Even just the first twenty minutes?”

“No problem,” Tiana responded happily and Emma grinned.

“Go get him, girl!” Ruby yelled after her and Emma intended to do just that.

Only before she could manage to get farther than sidewalk just beyond the front door, Emma was shocked to find the man she was looking for already here, waiting for her. He was pacing out front, looking more than a little concerned, but after a moment Killian glanced her way and all his attention was turned towards her.

“Emma?” He uttered her name as if unable to believe that she was really there.

“What are you doing here?” Emma asked, thrilled at the fact that the wait to see him was over.

“Losing my bloody mind? I don’t know, love, I was worried and I wanted to be here, for better or worse. I -,”

Emma could see the lingering uncertainty in Killian’s eyes, and since he wasn’t able to read from just her expression that she loved his story, she tried to show him another way. She brought him down for a kiss out there right in front of her store and showed him beyond the shadow of any doubt that she wasn’t going anywhere, and that he didn’t have to worry about her being mad, or scared, or anything of the like.

This kiss was just like their first, and every once since. It was sweetness itself, pushing the limits, hinting at more and making Emma crave a closeness they couldn’t actually have right now. For years Emma had been told about kisses like this one, but they were only supposed to happen in romance movies or in the pages of storybooks. Yet here they were, making a moment that Emma knew blew any of those fictionalized ones out of the water, because this was real. She and Killian were real and Emma truly hoped that this feeling they’d found in each other never went away.

“So how bad is the damage?” Emma asked, when she finally pulled back, her breathing slightly labored, and her body humming with desire that couldn’t be fully sated right now.

“The damage?” Killian asked, his eyes blinking open just a second too late for him to pretend to be totally collected. Emma smiled, running her hand along his chest and enjoying the sped up pace of his heartbeat against her fingertips.

“At work. You just left your post to stand here and wait for me. I’m assuming you’re missing something.”

“I honestly couldn’t tell you, Emma. Whatever it is, it doesn’t compare to this anyway.” 

Emma’s heart tripped happily at that, and she tilted her head back up to try and kiss him again when she heard a sudden thump from the storefront beside them. A realization hit then: while it was wonderful for Killian to be so close when she’d needed him, that proximity left them right in the line of sight of the store’s windows. Oh crap.

“How good are you at sneaking a look without being noticed?” Emma asked and Killian looked entertained at her random question.

“I’m a journalist, Swan. I can be discrete when the moment calls for it.”

“Good. Now, is the window currently filled with my friends openly ogling us?” Emma asked and Killian’s eyes darted that way quickly before he looked back and his grin widened.

“Aye it is.” Of course it was.

“Great,” Emma replied tightly and Killian laughed, the sound washing over her and taking that edge and frustration with her friends away from Emma’s mind completely.

“Can I see you tonight, love, and not just on the train?” Killian asked, his hand running along the small of her back and leaving trails of pleasure in its wake.

“Well I figured that was a given now that the article is behind us,” Emma knew her attempt at seduction worked when she saw Killian’s eyes darken. He looked as hungry as she felt for more in this moment.

“Technically it comes out tomorrow at -,”

Emma cut Killian off with another kiss, knowing full well that she was going to get applauded for putting on a show in a few minutes when she walked back inside. It was totally worth it though, especially when Killian agreed that they’d waited long enough and that tonight that was going to change. She was going to his house for dinner and then that bit of something they’d both been waiting for.

“You should know I’m damn well requiring you to stay the night, Swan. One taste isn’t going to be enough.” Emma’s heart fluttered at his words but she offered a sly smile of her own.

“Or you’re desperate for a decent night’s sleep and you can’t find one without me.”

“That too,” Killian replied, kissing her one last time before returning to the town car that had been idling at the curb all the while.

Emma watched him go and bit her lip, thinking about all that lay in store for her tonight. She was flying high right now, between the article and Killian and everything ahead of them and not even the sight of her four friends staring back at her and then subsequently cheering when she walked through the door could take away from that.

“I’m sorry, don’t we have a business to run here?” Emma asked, deflecting only slightly in the face of her friends’ reactions.

“Yeah, a business dedicated to love. Excuse us for wanting to see some in action,” Ruby quipped, and Emma shook her head.

Ruby’s witty retort actually hit a lot closer to home than her friend probably realized, because these emotions Emma was currently grappling with might be foreign to her, but they resembled something she’d heard of and seen in person enough times to recognize. This was definitely love in its earliest stages, and it was very different than anything she’d ever known. Whatever relationships she had before this weren’t the real thing, but Emma knew that with Killian she’d stumbled upon what most people spent their whole lives looking for.

Emma carried that sense of possibility with her through the rest of the day, and though she was able to distract herself in intervals, Ruby’s words wormed their way back into Emma’s mind more than once. The waves came randomly like when she found herself comparing a bride’s story of meeting her future husband to her meeting Killian on the train, or when she was dragged from her studio in a fleeting moment of quiet to come taste four types of wedding cake for a desperate Elsa. Emma was in the business of weddings, and yet for the first time in her life, the idea of someday (still very far off in the future) having one of her own didn’t actively terrify her. If that wasn’t a sign that Killian was different, Emma didn’t know what was.

When the workday finally gave way to quitting time, Emma enjoyed seeing Killian on the train briefly and then stopping home. She got everything she needed together, pretended to find something to do for the remaining amount of time, and then ran into Mrs. Hubbard on the way out. One look at Emma’s overnight bag and the woman was all smiles and happy proclamations.

“I just knew that boy was a keeper!” Mrs. Hubbard chortled as she clapped her hands over Emma’s in an eager pat. Emma meanwhile tried not to laugh at the woman’s classifying Killian as a ‘boy’ when he was definitely all man.

“Mrs. Hubbard, this is still new. I don’t want you to get your hopes up too high,” Emma said casually, knowing she was uttering the words partially for own benefit as well as her neighbor’s, and the old woman waved that idea away.

“The only way to live is all in, Emma. If you ever learn anything from this old lady, let it be that. You’ve got good instincts. Don’t start doubting em’ now.”

With that, Emma was dismissed and sent on her way to Killian’s. It took only ten minutes or so to get there, but the look on Killian’s face when she buzzed up and he opened the door made Emma feel like she wasn’t crazy for thinking that distance was still too far.

“Emma, you made it.” The relief in Killian’s voice made her laugh.

“What? Did you think I would back out or something?” She asked, shrugging off her jacket after he promptly took her bag and kissed her in greeting.

“Not at all. It’s just still hard to imagine my luck that we get to do this at all,” Killian confessed and Emma melted at the words. She felt the same way, but he always managed to put it in clearer terms.

“Something smells really good. Did you cook again?” Emma asked, surprised as she stepped into his kitchen, the one that she’d fallen in love with a few nights ago.

“Aye, Swan. I know how to prepare more than one meal. Shocking I know.”

“I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant that you don’t have to do all of this.” Killian came and wrapped his arms around her from behind and Emma loved the warmth that seeped through from him to her in the process.

“I wanted to Emma. I like the idea of having you here in my home, sharing a meal of any kind. Next time we’ll do pizza if you prefer. But tonight, I wanted to show you that I care.” That was incredibly touching, and it made Emma feel valued in a way that she still wasn’t entirely used to. She turned around in his embrace to look at him so he could see that she meant what she said next.

“I always know you care, Killian. Trust me, that part isn’t up for debate.”

“Then what is?” Killian asked sincerely and Emma decided to take a risk.

“Whether we start with dinner or dessert. Can all of this keep for… awhile?” Emma asked looking around and then smiling when she felt a low growl emanate from Killian’s chest.

“I had plans, love. Wine and dine you then make good on every promise I’ve laid at your feet thus far.” Emma shivered at that but shook her head.

“I had plans too. Then you happened. Plans change, and sometimes that’s a really good thing.”

From the look in Killian’s eyes one would think Emma was the one with a mastery of words, but she only spoke the truth. Killian had changed things for her and all the rules she’d once made about her love life were long gone. She was starting fresh, and though she fully planned to enjoy the meal he’d made, she also knew they had all night, and that right now what she wanted more than anything was to take the next step with the man who’d thrown her world into a beautiful, spinning chaos.

Without any actual words in reply, Killian’s lips crashed down to hers and Emma immediately responded. Her hands ran through the hair at the nape of his neck as her body molded to his. The kiss was driven by an overwhelming desire for closeness and contact. The last week had been a tease of what could happen when they came together, but tonight this chemistry would be put to the test. Would the spark be snuffed out, or would it ignite into something so much brighter?

“I have a mind to take you right here, love, but I swore the first time I made love to you I’d have you in my bed, and I’m a man of my word.”

Emma shivered deliciously at his heated words, and how she found the strength to stay vertical and move with him from the kitchen to his bedroom was beyond her. But one second she was in the bright lights of the kitchen, and the next she was in the warmer space that was his room, anticipating stripping away the layers between them and actually getting what she so badly wanted.

Yet where Emma was all about action and moving swiftly, Killian was languid, setting a pace that had her throbbing with want and near begging for him to move faster. His kisses were slow, and deliberate, pulling every ounce of need from her that they could but he stilled her hands when she reached for his shirt to strip it off of him.

When he was confident Emma wouldn’t push for more, Killian’s hands roamed over her body reverently, tracing the blue of the dress she wore tonight that was the closest approximation to his eyes that she could find in fabric, and Emma ached for him to take this further. Still there was a part of her that loved this and that fed off of the look in Killian’s eyes like she was the most important thing in the world to him. Emma had always wanted to be someone’s everything, and looks like that made her believe that finally she could be.

“Killian.” Emma whispered his name aloud, drawing his eyes back to hers.

“The first time I saw you in this dress was a few days after I started riding the train. I thought I’d finally stumbled upon perfection. The muse every writer I studied in school wrote about was made real in you. I didn’t think anyone could be so beautiful. Then someone - I’m assuming Ruby in hindsight - called you and I heard your voice for the first time. I realized then I didn’t even have all the facts yet. There was so much more to you than I had access to, and I wanted to know it all. I still do. I don’t think it will ever be enough.”

Emma longed to say something back, but she was feeling too much and Killian took advantage of her silence, stepping back around her and sliding the zipper down along the back of the dress. He stood close enough for her to feel the whisper of his breath along her ear and Emma closed her eyes as Killian murmured more words about how everything about her was remarkable. Every piece to the puzzle that she let him see only made him want more, and Emma wanted to let him have it all, to show Killian all of her as she’d never done with anyone else.

When her dress was gone, Emma enjoyed the string of curses that Killian let slip. He was all hard lines and tension, fighting for control, and Emma used that shift to her advantage. She turned back around to face him, and let down her hair from the tie she held it back in, Emma felt her confidence rise as his eyes took her in. The look on his face was so much more intense than anything she’d ever seen, but instead of lingering in that moment, Emma started to strip away some of the clothes that separated him from her view. She made quick work of his shirt and then her hands came to unbutton the jeans he’d put on after work. Emma felt Killian’s hum of approval at her actions deep down to her soul, but when her hand slipped inside, Killian halted her actions and took the reins again.

“I want nothing more than to give you everything you want, love, but I won’t last that way.” Killian’s words were firm, but Emma couldn’t help the smile that played at her lips.

“I think you can handle a lot more than you’re giving yourself credit for.”

Emma’s teasing tone was met with Killian moving her to the bed and then stripping the rest of the clothing he wore away. This was a side of Killian she hadn’t seen very often; he was stern and commanding, still restrained in some ways, but brimming with energy all the same. Emma knew all of that was about to be channeled into pleasing her, and it practically guaranteed her the best sex of her life, but then her mind went blank. In the face of all of Killian, Emma was speechless, and left wanting more than she had been all these past few months.

“Take it off, love. I want you completely bared to me.”

Emma’s eyes widened at the request, but she immediately complied, feeling the trail his eyes traced along her skin like a physical touch as she shucked away her bra and then the scrap of lace between her legs. Shit, she was so hot right now, it felt like being engulfed by flames, and she couldn’t tell if she wanted it to stop or to just let everything between them incinerate her completely.

She had her answer when Killian finally moved forward onto the bed and touched her. Whatever the cost to her sanity, she wanted this with Killian. If he ruined her so be it. She was desperate and unashamed of letting him see that. Emma wouldn’t call him gentle per se, but precise and filled with intent. He gave just enough pressure in just the right places to set her heart racing faster, and Killian definitely knew exactly what he was doing to her based on the grin that appeared on his gorgeous face.

“You’re even more beautiful than I imagined, Swan. I hardly know where to begin.”

“Anywhere. Just as long as you start,” Emma said in a rush, the last word squeaked out as one of his hands trailed to her breast.

Killian’s reply was a physical one, with his mouth covering hers in a branding kiss. She knew he was as ravenous for her as Emma was for him, and though he started slow and teasing that course of action deteriorated in seconds. Suddenly he was everywhere with roaming hands and kisses at her neck and then lower. It was all so good and yet the ache in Emma that craved more still throbbed almost painfully. That clawing need was only added to when she felt the scruff of his beard against her smooth, exposed skin or the mastery he had over every response. By the time his mouth came to her breast, she was panting, and then his fingers were at her sex and she was lost. Emma couldn’t tell up from down, all she knew was this was so much so fast and she was desperate for more.

“Fuck, Emma, you’re so ready for me even now,” Killian growled against her sensitive flesh and Emma nodded, unable to process enough to give him actual words. Her fingers ran through his short hair and when he sucked at her aching bud at the same time that his thumb swirled against her clit and two of his fingers pressed inside, she cried out his name.

That quickly she crashed into a climax, but Killian was hardly satisfied. Emma could tell from the look in his eyes that he wouldn’t rest until he’d given them both so much more pleasure and bliss. He made slow work of things, remaining as he was and knowing instinctively when her oversensitivity gave way to wanting again. Emma doubted it was possible to recreate that toe-curling release, but he proved her wrong once more with his hands and then again with his mouth at her sex. It got to be so much that Emma feared she would pass out but finally he was back with her, hovering just above her with a look of love in his eyes that only sparked her desire for him all over again.

“I think it’s only fair to warn you love that it won’t be easy to get rid of me after this. A man can’t taste heaven like you and merely walk away.”

Emma shivered at the mention of tasting, recalling everything he’d just managed to elicit from her with that skilled mouth of his but finally she found the means to speak and to assure Killian that wouldn’t be a problem.

“Good. Because I don’t want you to walk away,”

With a growl, Killian thrust into her, leaving Emma completely filled in a moment. She’d gone from empty and waiting to so beautifully completed so quickly that she lost it, clawing at his back and urging him to move. She wanted him in every way, hard and fast, in a rhythm designed to combust, and Killian delivered in every way, dragging her back to the edge and then pleading with her to step off with him.

“Let go, Emma. Let go.”

That was all it took for Emma to give Killian what he wanted. His sincerity and the miraculously good sensations he was causing in her body coiled tight before springing free, and when she fell, he followed suit, sealing the moment as one of the best Emma had ever known.

The blinding feel of total completion was heady and gorgeous, but Emma felt it fade into something more valuable: a peace that came from being in Killian’s arms that she’d never felt before. No one else had ever earned her trust like him, and no one else could look at her after all of this and still seem just as genuine as Killian. In his eyes, Emma saw all sorts of hope, and she knew in her heart that his earlier promise was real: he wasn’t going anywhere and Emma was so beyond glad for that.

“You know, I didn’t get a chance to say this before, but I really liked the word you used in the disclaimer.”

“And which word was that?” Killian asked, his arms pulling her in closer to him.

“Attachment. I don’t think I’ve ever felt particularly attached to someone before. But with you I do,” Emma admitted.

“Well I’m honored that you chose me, Emma. God knows I’d choose you every time, and the proof is in the fact that we had dessert before dinner.” Emma laughed at that, feeling the moment when Killian did the same before offering a solution.

“We could always remedy that now if you want,” Emma offered, but she was left staring after Killian when he hopped out of bed and insisted she stay right where she was.

“I have every intention of keeping you in this bed as long as I can, love. I’ll bring everything to you.” Killian pressed one last kiss to her lips and then set off towards the kitchen, but before he disappeared, Emma called out to him one last time.

“Killian?” her voice warbled through the air, reaching him just before he left her line of sight.

“Yes, love?”

“Keep choosing me, okay?” she asked, really hoping that he would.

“Always.” And with that gentle promise, he departed for a few minutes before coming back and granting Emma those same feelings of safety, and belonging and love all over again.

Post-Note: So there we have it. I hope you guys enjoyed this installment, and I am so excited for where the story is going next. I have a lot of things I still want to incorporate, and I see quite a few more chapters in this AUs future filled with lots of smuffy goodness. Thank you all so much for reading and I hope you all have a wonderful rest of your day!