#also inspired by me waking up smelling burned popcorn and finding out that it was a skunk (sadly no trey or lemon bars)

[da-birb-writes-sometimes]

Devilish

A scare during the witching hour turns into something more pleasant than you thought it would.

Character; Trey Clover

Content; Gender-neutral reader, some fear but ends in fluff

Content Warning; Fear/anxiety, swearing

Word Count; 1.6 K

Author's Note; This is for @jade-s-nymph's TWSTober collab! I had a lot of fun writing this, plus this is my first fic/serious work featuring Trey ^v^ Please make sure you support the other writers and artists in this collab as well; and remember to reblog works that you enjoyed!

As a reminder, do not put my work — or others for that matter — into AI as it steals. Link to Masterlist

You woke up, a bit in a daze since you were just deep asleep, but the groggy daze of ‘Why am I awake… nevermind, I’m going back to bed’ quickly left your mind as a strong, acrid, smell filled the air; the smell of something burning. That grogginess quickly morphed into a slowly building and intensifying anxiety, but none of the smoke alarms were going off… you still got up though and turned on all the lights; you wouldn’t be able to rest easy until you found the source of the smell.

Room by room, you turned on the lights, and thankfully you didn’t find anything ablaze. Thinking about it, you didn’t even have anything on that could theoretically start a fire… better safe than sorry.

I mean, like, who wouldn’t wake up and not be freaked out? My brain is practically running around in circles and screaming FIRE! FIRE! FIRE! You thought to yourself, rubbing your eyes. You also knew full well that you wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep after this, the anxious part of your brain making sure that you stayed awake until you either found the source of the smell, or it went away.

You ended your quest of trying to find the smell in the kitchen, but there was no sign of smoke or the ‘fire’ that your brain imagined engulfing all of your earthly possessions. Yet, you didn’t feel relieved, instead, you hunched over your counter and started scrolling through your phone, looking for answers.

‘what smells like burning rubber’ 

You got everything from phantom smells caused by hallucinations, to electrical fires, to skunk. You let out a sigh and massaged your temples. Yeah, I should have seen that coming. Go looking for answers and instead, I have more questions than I began with. 

“Lovely,” you sighed, straightening yourself back up and looking up at the ceiling, “just lovely.”

It was honestly no use trying to go back to sleep now, since you were fully awake. Glancing at the clock, you groaned again; it wasn’t even four in the morning; what kind of sick joke was that? 

You gave your clock the stink eye but started your journey back to your bed, maybe you could start reading that book you’ve been meaning to get into… or you could just scroll mindlessly through social media while nice and comfy under your blankets. But right as you reached the threshold of your room, three knocks sounded out.

You paused and listened. Knock, knock, knock. There they were again, but they weren’t coming from the front door, no. You were half tempted to pull the blinds back from the window, but if there was some creep knocking on your window in the dead of night, you would rather not come across them. So yet again, you went through your place, triple-checking that all the locks were secure. First a fire scare, and now this? Today wasn’t going great, was it?

All of the locks checked out though, everything was good.

Knock. Knock. KNOCK.

A third round of knocking, but this time it was louder, more insistent. And the burning smell was back, and you could taste it from how strong it was. It commanded all of your attention and wasn’t going to be ignored… it was consuming, hungry almost. 

You were back in the kitchen, and thankfully(?) there was no more knocking, it seemed like three sets of three and it was done, but the smell, the smell. It was oppressive, and you started coughing, but despite the all-consuming smell of fire and burning, there was no smoke anywhere to be found; with the smell this thick, you would have been able to feel it. 

You went ahead to turn on the light, but despite you flipping the switch up and down multiple times, the light stayed off. And the rest of the lights just shut off suddenly on your final flip of the light switch, plunging you into darkness, engulfing you in darkness and the smell of burning.

FUCK! You fumbled around for your phone, trying to get the flashlight on.

Knock, knock, knock. The knocking was back, and it was slower and louder than before.

Finally, your phone’s flashlight turned on, and from the darkness, a pair of glowing yellow eyes stared at you, unblinking and looking into you, as if trying to see your very being.

And you? You just stood there, frozen, barely even breathing, since hey THERE WERE GLOWING EYES IN YOUR HOUSE STARING AT YOU? HELLO?! WHAT?!

You tried to move, to even open your mouth so you could make some attempt to either scream in horror, or hiss obscenities at whatever was in your kitchen, but you were frozen. And as you stared back into the glowing eyes, they were getting closer, and changing from a startling, eerie glowing gold, to something more dull and warm; a warm hazel. Despite this change from unnatural to something more human, they still pried into your consciousness, as if looking for something.

Soon, the former-glowing-eyed thing that was lurking in the dark corners of your kitchen stepped into the weak light of your flashlight. By the time he — yes, he — had stepped into the weak cold light, his eyes had stopped glowing. But the smell, the acrid smell of something burning, was stronger than ever, and it was coming from him. Yet, he looked like a polite neighbour who would offer you some sugar if you ran out, but you knew that wasn’t what he was.

He cleared his throat, and fixed his glasses, still keeping eye contact with you which you couldn’t escape. “You summoned me?”

You blinked in surprise at the question. It was out of pocket, but this entire situation was entirely ludicrous when you really thought about it. But the green-haired man just blinked back at you, as if he was just as confused at the current situation as you were. It was almost comical in a sense.

Finally, whatever spell you were under, lifted. “No,” you said, still gauging what he was since human was only the form he was taking on. “No, I really didn’t.” 

He offered you a polite smile, which was unnerving as it was charming; and if you were in a completely different situation, it would have you feeling at ease. The hairs on the back of your neck stood at end though, and your brain screamed DANGER! DANGER! RUN AWAY!

“You did though,” he chuckled softly, scratching the back of his neck. “Don’t you remember? At the bakery?”

The bakery? … all you had gotten at the bakery was some sugar, flour, and some lemon squares. And you would have remembered him if you saw him at the bakery; since green hair wasn’t natural, yet it looked like it was for him.

You shook your head, “All I got was some supplies and lemon bars. I didn’t ‘summon’ you. And what do you mean by ‘summon’? Who are you? What are you? How did you even get in my house?”

He pursed his lips and looked at you pensively. “Must have been a mix-up then… you don’t seem like the type to summon…” He let out a deep sigh, and adjusted his glasses — apparently, both of you were not happy with your current situations. Also, you didn’t know if you should have been offended or not at that statement. “Can I see what you got?”

You nodded, bringing out the flour and sugar, which, judging by his lack of reaction other than saying, “That’s a good deal for that,” was not the reason why he just spawned in your house. But then you showed him the half-eaten container of lemon bars, with three still left over.

“Ah, looks like there was a mix-up,” he chuckled. He turned back to you, with your citrus confectionaries in hand. “These are demon bars, not lemon bars. Eating them summons, well, a demon.”

A demon… A DEMON?! You balked at him, looking from the traitorous sweets to his bashful smile. And no wonder they tasted devilishly sweet… You knew it was bad going shopping on an empty stomach, and now you were dealing with the consequences.

“No offence, but uhhhh, how do I… send you back?” You were going to say ‘get rid of you’ but you didn’t want to offend the guy; he seemed polite enough, but you also didn’t want to test your luck either. “And what do I call you? Since I don’t want to just call you ‘demon’?”

The demon brought his hand to his chin and looked at you. 

Man, his eyes are pretty when they aren’t glowing in the dark— WHAT AM I THINKING?! GET A GRIP OF YOURSELF! You dug your fingernails into your palm to stop your wandering, and sleep-deprived, thoughts from skipping merely down a rose-tinted road.

He looked at the ‘lemon’ bars (apparently it wasn’t just a fancy cursive L then) and looked back up to you. “Trey, you can call me Trey.” 

Like a serving tray? Or three in Spanish?

“As for sending me back? Well, you didn’t know they were actually contracts, so I think if we make three more of those bars you should be good.” He nodded at the end.

Your night had taken multiple turns; from you thinking your house was aflame, to being scared half to death by Trey in your kitchen, to now making demonic-infused lemon bars in your kitchen at four in the morning… at least you made it out with your soul intact with the whole experience only costing you some ingredients, which you could always get more of… and maybe you even made a friend in the process?

...

...

Tags; @afunkyfreshblog, @azulashengrottospiano, @eynnwwyjth, @ithseem, @krenenbaker, @lucid-stories, @savanaclaw1996, @twistwonderlanddevotee, @xxoomiii

[donttouchmeimwriting]

Argo ch. 4

Friday the 13th - Friendship/Romance - Jason Voorhees/OC M/M ship

3326 words, 3rd person POV

Took a little bit of a breather so I don't burn out because this one is big! I'm going to have some mature content in future chapters btw so the rating will bump to 18+ for those. I will mark the chapters with that content appropriately so minors please do not interact with them!

Cross-posting on FFN under PyroTheWereCat

...

Some weeks passed and Jason and Lijah had gotten quite comfortable with their new routine. Jason had started to come by early every evening and leave before midnight every night, though Lijah still occasionally fell asleep while he was still there. Jason didn't mind these times. He took them as opportunities to watch Lijah without question or making him feel self conscious, as Jason rather liked the way Lijah looked and never grew tired of seeing his face. He still had sporadic thoughts of inappropriate things, but those showed up more now when he was alone and only thinking of Lijah.

The thoughts were troubling nonetheless, as Jason often found his mind wandering to daydreams of Lijah in the shower or how swallowed up by Jason's arms he would be if he held him. He even had thoughts of kissing Lijah, wondering just how soft those lips would feel. The images were innocent enough, but Jason still worried that he was sliding down a slippery slope by having them at all. He could hear Mother's voice in the back of his mind explaining how this was only the beginning. It would start with innocent curiosity and then, before he knew it, he would be consumed by lust and never be able to return home. The most troubling part about it all was that there was a frighteningly big part of him that didn't want the thoughts to stop.

In the silent moments that Lijah was asleep while Jason sat with him, Jason's strongest desires were to touch him. He didn't feel that these yearnings were particularly wrong in that he was only really interested in touching Lijah's hair and face, but he resisted out of concern for the progression of these urges as well as not wanting to wake Lijah. Still, the allure of his soft looking woody brown locks and even softer looking freckled skin called to him, inspiring a great many of his fantasies.

There was also the worry that Lijah would start to hate him like everyone else did. He was terrified that the instant he removed his mask, Lijah would never want to see him again. He could feasibly tolerate his presence now, but if their relationship progressed into something else, then what? Could Lijah stand to be with the monster who murdered so many people? The freak with a face so repugnant it instilled a murderous intent in others? Jason couldn't stand to think of betraying Lijah, but he also wished to find some kind of happiness for himself.

In the beginning, if Lijah fell asleep next to him, Jason would leave soon after to let him rest, but as their friendship went on, he would stay for at least an hour to enjoy the peacefulness of the arrangement. He would sometimes read one of Lijah's books, though usually he would sit and enjoy the calm atmosphere of existing in a safe location with a trusted friend. It was through these quiet nights that he learned Lijah was a sleep talker, and a relatively clear one at that. It had startled him the first time it happened; Jason thought that Lijah had woken up. He quickly understood that they were mumblings of a blissfully unaware Lijah, and soon came to enjoy listening to the odd phrases he would come up with while dreaming. A request to place a bag of fruit on a shoe rack, a denial of cream cheese spaghetti, occasional laughter...it was all somewhat funny to Jason until he heard his own name.

Lijah called out to Jason quite a few times in his sleep, increasing in frequency as time went on. The scenarios were often mundane - asking Jason to move from the hallway or how he was doing. Jason paid close attention any time these dreams occurred, curious about what Lijah was seeing. One instance, however, caught his attention like none of the others had before.

Lijah was sleeping curled up on his side, facing the wall. Jason was reading the final chapter of one of the adventure novels and the scene was coming to a thrilling climax. He heard Lijah murmur his name and turned to see if he was awake, as was the norm. Lijah's eyes were closed and he drooled slightly on the pillow, answering that question instantly. Jason returned to his book, but kept his ears focused on any further commentary.

"Don't go," Lijah whispered, his voice tinged with unmistakable sadness, "...want you...stay with me, Jase...please..."

His full attention now on Lijah, Jason's pulse quickened. He wasn't sure what to do to alleviate the distress Lijah was having in his dream. Eyes searching for a solution, Jason found himself fixed on a section of hair that had fallen across Lijah's face, hanging over his eyes and nose. Clenching his jaw muscles and praying he did not wake him, Jason reached out to push the hair off Lijah's face. He hesitated before touching him, beginning to panic, but then Lijah sighed his name again, his eyebrows furrowed with whatever upsetting images he was forced to see. Jason took a deep breath to steady his hand, then gently brushed the hair back.

Lijah's hair was even softer than Jason had previously imagined, like a young deer's fur. He couldn't resist running his fingers through to the ends, watching them slide effortlessly as if he were passing his hand through tall grass. Lijah's expression instantaneously relaxed as Jason combed his fingers through his hair, and he tentatively repeated the action. He stroked Lijah's hair several times like this, slowly, tenderly, fascinated by its soothing effect on him. Soon, Lijah had slipped back into a deep sleep, looking more comfortable than before.

Jason, on the other hand, could not be more energized. His touch was good for something other than bringing pain and death. He could be gentle and comforting. He had been uncertain before, but this proved it. He was capable of changing after all, not just in his mind.

He could not remain in the room for long after, his energy much too high to sit still or move quietly enough to not wake Lijah, so he left earlier than he wanted to. He spent this wild energy in the woods that night, hunting and trapping small animals to add to his own campsite's food stores. He felt deliciously alive in a way he was not used to.

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

Jason didn't tell Lijah about the nightmare. He worried that it might unnerve him that he stayed in the room while he slept, and Jason's top priority at the moment was keeping Lijah's favor. He had never really had crushes before, having no one around other than Mother, and could now somewhat understand that intense desire to be around the other person and ignore the world. Before now, he wasn't even sure that men could be attracted to each other. It was never in the stories Mother told him, and he had never seen it in his few ventures to the camp. He thought it must be extremely special, given that it was not as prevalent, and wondered why he hadn't heard of it before. Perhaps it was only heterosexual couples who were sinful and needed to be bound by marriage to erase that sin? He determined he would look into it later if it became an important question.

The desire to touch Lijah's hair again became much stronger after doing it once, however, and Jason resisted the urge each time he saw him. He could feel Lijah getting suspicious though, and didn't want to hide his feelings for much longer. What would Lijah think if he told him he liked him? He had told Jason he wasn't interested in dating anyone, and Jason was almost certain Lijah was only interested in a friendship with him. He wanted to at least tell him he wanted to explore a more sensual relationship, holding hands and hugging, perhaps, but he wasn't sure how to express that without seeming creepy. While he had no idea how romantic relationships worked, Jason had only the slightest inkling of how friendships worked, and didn't want to ruin this one by saying something weird.

One rainy evening, Lijah returned to the cabin with more energy than usual, claiming it was a slow day with the kids due to the weather, and he got to relax for most of it. This led to him excitedly showing Jason one of his favorite movies on VHS, setting up the living room with popcorn, extra blankets, and soda (though Jason politely declined the beverage and requested a water instead). Mother never showed Jason movies like this at home; he wasn't even sure they owned a VCR. When he was younger, they did have a TV and he would watch the occasional broadcasted movie, but once it broke, they never replaced it. As a result, he never cared much about catching up with popular media. There were chores to complete and plenty to do outside, so he'd never needed the extra entertainment. Still, it was nice to see Lijah get so worked up by watching the story on the screen, and Jason found it interesting as well.

The pair moved back to the bedroom once the movie was over, Jason having helped Lijah clean up the living room first, and Jason quietly read as Lijah did his bedtime routine. Jason had noticed he was growing rather smelly lately, more so than usual. He never cared much about hygiene - the smell didn't tend to bother him - and bathed infrequently with little water from creeks. Being around Lijah, who smelled so pleasant all the time, however, Jason was picking up on his own scent a little more, and found it potentially offensive. He remembered Lijah offering the shower to him, and contemplated using it at least a couple times a week so as not to offend his nice smelling friend who was surely not saying anything to avoid hurting his feelings. When Lijah returned from the bathroom, Jason wrote,

"can i use it to?"

"Use what?" Lijah asked, still toweling his hair dry, "The shower? Yeah, absolutely! There's plenty of soap in there and an extra towel. If you want, while you're in there, I can sneak over to laundry to wash your clothes for you too."

There it was. Jason grimaced. He was slightly embarrassed by offending Lijah, but grateful that he was being so casual about it. He nodded and awkwardly shuffled around Lijah to get to the bathroom. He shut the door behind him and leaned against it, sighing deeply. He began undressing, becoming more uncomfortable feeling that his shirt stuck to his skin. How had he gone this long without noticing? He found the spare towel Lijah mentioned and wrapped it around his waist to cover himself before opening the door to pass his dirty clothes out to Lijah. Lijah took the pile, cheerful as always, and promised to be back soon. Jason was trying to avoid making eye contact, but he saw that Lijah's cheeks flushed when he was met with the sight of Jason in the towel. What could that have been about?

Enclosed in the bathroom once more, Jason dropped the towel next to his boots and removed his mask, placing it on the sink. This room was even smaller and more cramped than the other rooms in the cabin, leaving barely any space for his large frame to navigate. It was a simple setup of only the essentials: a toilet, a sink with a mirror over it, and a narrow shower stall. Jason stepped inside the stall and pulled the curtain behind him. The air still smelled of clean steam from Lijah's shower: a calming scent. Jason had some trouble figuring out the knobs, but managed to get the water running. The spray felt glorious on his skin, and he took a moment to bask in the warmth of the water. Certainly, this was a feeling he could live with a couple times a week.

Once he was done washing and rising the soap from his body, Jason turned the water off and stepped out, feeling almost brand new. He dried himself with the towel, but had not heard Lijah come back in yet. He put his mask back on and tentatively opened the door, keeping the towel tight on his waist. He peered out, but there was no sign of Lijah yet. The laundry room was probably in a different area of the camp, he considered, and it would take a little time for him to get back. Jason retrieved a book from the bedroom to occupy the time while he waited.

Lijah did return shortly after, bringing with him Jason's now clean clothes. He handed them off, blushing still, and left Jason to get dressed. What was getting him so flustered? Jason rejoined Lijah in the bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed next to him.

"How do you feel?" Lijah asked, fidgeting with the ends of his hair.

Jason nodded and gave a thumbs up gesture, admittedly feeling much better now that he was completely clean (and smelling almost as good as Lijah).

"Good! I've gotta say, though, that's some tough material. I wasn't sure the washer could handle it."

He touched Jason's arm as he spoke, feeling the fabric of his jacket. Jason stiffened, caught off guard by Lijah's touch. Lijah immediately retracted his hand, his eyes worried.

"I'm sorry," he apologized, "Was that wrong?"

Jason thought a moment, but then felt the strong yearning he'd had before to touch Lijah and run his fingers through that soft hair again. He shook his head, but felt a sudden, unexplainable distress that shortened his breaths. He reached for Lijah, who did not flinch or move away, and wrapped his fingers around his slim upper arm. Lijah's skin was so soft, so compliant to his touch...Jason released a shuddering sigh at how nice it felt. Lijah touched his arm again, running his hand up to Jason's shoulder.

"Wow, you're super touch starved, aren't you?" he said, giving Jason's shoulder a squeeze. Jason had never heard of the expression, but it made sense to him. Wanting to feel Lijah ached like a hunger, and being touched by him satisfied that hunger. He nodded, rubbing Lijah's arm as gently as he could, but still pushing him slightly from sheer size difference.

"Can I hug you?" Lijah asked, "I think that'll help the most."

Jason nodded, a little too exuberantly, and Lijah pulled away from him to hop off the bed. He faced Jason, his expression unreadable, then climbed up onto Jason's lap, straddling his thighs, and pulled him into his arms. Jason gave a small grunt of surprise, but melted into Lijah's embrace, clutching him tightly. The feeling was indescribably soothing and overwhelming at the same time, sending tingles throughout his body. How was it that Lijah always knew what he needed?

It was undeniable at this point that Jason loved Lijah. He loved everything about him. He loved the feeling of Lijah's breath against his neck. He loved that he was so small and delicate compared to Jason, and he loved holding him close. His scent was all Jason could perceive outside of the embrace and the sound of rain tapping on the roof of the cabin, that light, clean scent he could never get enough of. This moment was perfection to Jason. The only thing that could make it even better was...no, he shouldn't wish for such indecent things, especially not when this felt so wonderful. He also knew that there was a difference between loving someone and being in love with someone. He wasn't sure how to tell the difference, but assumed he would know if it happened. So far, he knew he loved Lijah, but didn't think he was in love with him (yet).

Lijah pulled back slightly to be able to look at Jason. His face was placid and reflected the happiness Jason felt.

"You've got some big, strong arms," he said, rubbing Jason's upper arms as he spoke, "I bet you're a fantastic cuddler."

Jason shrugged. He would not know, but from the way Lijah said it, he would like to find out.

"Gosh, you're cute," Lijah mumbled, "You don't even know how worked up you get me, do you? I'll give you a hint...I can't get that image of you in that towel out of my head and I don't want to."

He ghosted his fingertips over Jason's mask, his eyes lowered to where Jason's mouth would be under it.

"Is it all right if I take this off?" he whispered, "I would really like to kiss you right now."

The thought of kissing Lijah made Jason's heart flutter, but he did not want to frighten him with the face that earned him so much hatred as a child. There was also the matter of what his mother would think, with Lijah's bottom so dangerously close to his most private area, tempting him with physical pleasures. Would she be upset? Or would she not mind as much, given it would only be a kiss? At this point, it was not a question of whether or not Jason wanted it, but rather should he give in to what he wanted and disrespect his mother's wishes?

Pulse racing as he began to run out of time for an answer, Jason forced himself to make a decision. It would just be a kiss, right? There was no need to overthink. Definitely no need to read too far into what he said about the towel...He lifted his hands and slowly pushed the mask up to just under his nose. He could no longer see Lijah like this, but he didn't need to.

Lijah did not hesitate to close the space between them. He didn't kiss the way Jason had seen others before. This wasn't sloppy or aggressive...it was soft and warm and sent tingles throughout Jason's entire body...it felt nice. He slid his hands up Lijah's back as he dissolved into the kiss, an intense blush creeping into his cheeks. Lijah in turn pressed his hands to the sides of Jason's neck, holding him just as close. The slight movement of their lips together felt so incredible....Jason almost forgot that this was supposed to be wrong. He curled his fingers into Lijah's t-shirt and sighed softly as their lips parted. He didn't want this to end.

Lijah pulled back, Jason leaning forward as he went, not yet ready to stop. Lijah laughed, that beautiful, musical laugh that made Jason feel wonderfully weak, and playfully pushed his face away.

"Give me some air, big guy!" Lijah giggled, "Believe me, I want more too."

Jason pulled his mask back down so he could see his breathless partner. Lijah's face was flushed and he smiled serenely at Jason, resting his forearms on Jason's broad shoulders. Jason couldn't help but to smile himself. Was this how normal people felt all the time? Was this what it felt like to be attractive and wanted? But then again...Lijah felt this way about him as he was. He was attractive to him.

Jason thrust Lijah to his chest, hugging him tightly.

"Whoa!" Lijah cried out, startled by the sudden movement, "Easy there! You okay, Jase?"

Jason nodded into Lijah's shoulder, giving his body a brief squeeze. Lijah grunted softly and gave another short laugh.

"Remember how small I am," he said, returning the hug, "I don't mind getting a little manhandled but don't break me."

Jason couldn't fathom breaking Lijah. He wanted to keep him and protect him from the everything. The little kisses Lijah planted along Jason's neck were more valuable than any luxury he could imagine and touching their foreheads together fulfilled him more than any prior achievement he'd made. He was in bliss, and that bliss was named Lijah.

[goddamnitkastle]

Light My Heart and Light My Shadow

I did say I was working on an Apocalypse Kastle AU fic and given the state of the world, it gave me the final push to finish the damn thing. While also getting inspiration from others sources and getting great support from @carry-the-sky and @witchygagirl. Thank you both for beta reading!

So the idea to write this AU first came about from If The World Was Ending by JP Saxe ft. Julia Michaels. Then Starkid came out with a new musical called Black Friday and well, once again, I am slightly ripping off another source material for their scenarios but then making it Kastle. That’s how I make my fics happen these days apparently.

If you’ve seen the musical, you probably know what’s coming but if you haven’t it’s okay, you can still go along with it. But also watch it cause it’s awesome (if you’re into apocalyptic musicals).

Either way, a year has passed since the hospital visit in TPS2, the world is ending now, and Frank and Karen are navigating it together.  

Enjoy!

It’s dark when Frank wakes.

But that doesn’t stop the flashbacks. Or really the vivid remembrance of the last week and a half. When the world ended. Or is it still ending? He doesn’t know at this point.

I swear Micro if you don’t find Karen...

It’s been a year Frank, you really expect me to go anywhere with you...

The world is literally on fire Frank you need to get out of here...

This is the apocalypse. This is the end, not even Daredevil can stop it. Find Karen, Frank. Take care of her for me. Tell her that I’m sorry and that Foggy will always be there for her. In this lifetime or the next. Just please... go.

Karen please... let’s go.

Frank realizes he’s lying in an aisle, a row of seats on either side of him. The floor is sticky and he can smell a faint trace of buttered popcorn underneath the smoke from the fires.

How the fuck did he end up in a movie theater? And where is Karen?

He gets up and his right side flares up in pain. He groans as he reaches out into the black to find a seat. He manages to find an arm rest to sit down on.

The lights turn on and a door opens. Frank whips around. It’s Karen.

“Hey you shouldn’t be up, you’re gonna rip the stitches...”

“Where the hell are we Karen?”

“In an AMC I think? I don’t know, it’s a movie theater and you were stabbed. I had to get us away from...”

“Right. Who were they?”

“I don’t know. People driven to madness? I wouldn’t rule out zombies at this point. You’re gonna be fine though, I don’t think the knife hit any organs as for as I could tell.”

“How’d you patch me up?”

“I found a first aid kit in the box office. I think we’ll be safe here for now, I checked every door and I locked it. And if I couldn’t lock it I barricaded it. Ticket stations, chairs, tables, anything I could find...”

“You did good Karen.” He reassures her.

“Thank you.”

“No thank you...”

He looks at her. Past the grime and the dark circles under her eyes she is still so beautiful. He notices her eyebrows are knitted together and he then realizes that she is waiting for him to finish his sentence.

“...For, uh, coming with me. Still trusting me even after the hospital...” He spills out.

“Well it’s hard to fake an apocalypse, Frank.”

The silence is tense but Karen breaks into a laugh and Frank smiles for the first time in a year. It’s a brief moment of respite in the middle of hell.

“The world didn’t need to end though. It shouldn’t have had to come to that. I shouldn’t have walked away from you. Stayed away as long as I did. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I forgive you.”

Frank turns to the movie screen. He leans all the way back and rests against the wall.

“Jesus I can’t remember the last time I went to the movies. Not like I’d remember them. I, uh, only went to whatever latest animated movie Lisa and Frankie were obsessing over that also happened to have merchandise to buy.”

Karen smiles, leans back and rests against the wall.

“I had to do a couple movie reviews for The Bulletin. Trust me, you really weren’t missing much on the non-animated side. It was either about superheroes or cars or... the end of the world.”

And just like that hell comes rushing back in and Frank feels his adrenaline spike.

“Yeah we shouldn’t stay here. We gotta keep moving Karen...”

Frank starts to get up but he feels her hand grab his wrist.

“No Frank. I’m tired. I’m so goddamn tired I just want to...”

He takes her hand off and clasps in between his as he sits back down.

“God even after a year you... you still rip my heart out Frank. Even as the world burns around us my biggest fear is that I’m gonna wake up tomorrow and you’re gonna be gone.”

“I’m not going anywhere Karen. I’m never gonna say goodbye to you unless you ask me to.”

“What if I give you a reason to?”

“No reason could ever...”

“I killed my brother.”

Tears start to fall but he doesn’t let go of her hand.

“I think that’s why... your case. It wasn’t just that something wasn’t right. I realized long after that trial... I think deep down somewhere I was reaching out to you like a lifeline. To help me make sense of this loss that just consumes me some days. On those days I can still smell the blood, the burning asphalt of the pavement, feel the scream in my chest when I looked over and saw Kevin motionless next to me...”

Karen covers her mouth with her hands and a muffled, strangled sob comes out. Frank has her in his arms a moment later and doesn’t let go for a long time. Mixed in with her cries she recounts that awful night to him, learns of Todd, her father, her mother.

“It’s okay Karen.” He keeps telling her. 

Nothing about what is going on is okay but he will say it for her. Say it until it’s a mantra and she believes it will be again.

...

They stay in that movie theater for a few days. All was safe and sound and Frank reluctantly agreed that he was also goddamn tired. He and Karen had been on the run, it was only a matter of time before they had to stop.

The movie theater turned out to be the ideal hideaway. Once Frank got one of the generators to work out they had electricity and plumbing. And when Karen found the stockroom, the food problem was solved. Yes it was greasy and sugary shit but it was better than nothing.

“I wonder if we could get the projector to work.” Karen muses while eating Raisinets.

“Then we really wouldn’t have a reason to leave.” Frank says as he bites into a chicken tender.

On their second night Frank finds Karen reading training manuals behind the box office counter.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“Thinking of changing careers?” He asks as he cracks a side smile at her.

She rolls her eyes but a small smile appears.

“Come on, I got something to show you.”

Frank leads them to the auditorium and, hopefully, if Frank timed this right...

Let's all go to the lobby To get ourselves a treat

“You didn’t.” Karen exclaims.

“If you ever decide to open a movie theater, let me know if you need a projectionist. Only took me a day and half to figure out the damn thing.”

They go inside and take their seats. They have their snacks and Frank can almost forget what is happening outside.

“What movie are we watching?”

“Yeah about that...”

Jingle bells suddenly ring out and the movie title appears in bright red letters:

Santa Claus Is Going to High School

“Oh no...” Karen gasps as she leans forward, her hands gripping the back of the seat in front of hers.

“Yeah sorry this was the only movie that I could get to play.”

“Oh God I had to see this movie. For The Bulletin.”

“Shit. I would pick the one movie you’ve actually seen...”

“Yeah after that I told Ellison I was never going to do the movie reviews again and to give those pieces to the interns.”

“What’s it about?”

“Um.. so Santa Claus finds out that every kid in the world is on the naughty list. He realizes he may be out of touch so he turns himself into a teenager to... I guess to get back in touch with them? Or to spy on them... it’s bad Frank. It’s Never Been Kissed but make it Christmas.”

Frank laughs.

“High school, huh?”

“Yeah... why anyone would willing go back to high school I could never...”

“I would.”

Karen turns her attention away from the movie and onto him.

“Really?” She asks skeptically.

“Does that surprise you?”

“Kind of. Let me guess... quarterback?”

“Offensive line. And wrestling. I was a jock, what can I say? But high school... I liked the structure though and even the, uh, learning... when it wasn’t hard. What about you?”

“Please don’t.”

“Karen...”

“I told you I was...”

“You said yourself that was end of senior year. When you met Todd. Are you telling me that was when your life began? That there was nothing before the drugs?”

“Don’t be an asshole Frank. Okay? I played basketball, I contributed to my school’s literary magazine and... I’m not that girl anymore.”

Karen gets up but Frank grabs her arm.

“You don’t have to be.”

“What are we doing Frank? The world is fucking ending and here we are reminiscing about high school...”

“And? Jesus Karen I was just trying to...”

“What?”

“I don’t know, forget? Just for a moment forget all the shit that has happened to me? Who I’ve been for the last four years? Tonight I just wanted to be a man, seeing a movie with a beautiful woman, and hope that there was something still there.”

“Frank we can’t just... forget.”

“Why not? It’s you and me. You and me at the end of the world with no reason to run away or leave or to say goodbye. No past. No future. Just now. And I want you.”

He reaches for her and takes her hands in his.

“You’ve forgiven me time and time again. Even when I don’t deserve it. Please let me...” He pleads as he runs his thumbs over her wrists.

“Do you mean it Frank?”

“I do.”

His forehead lightly bumps into hers. The movie has been white noise from the start but in this moment the screen goes white, bathing Karen in a color other than red and black for the first time. It’s like daylight and he feels like he could cry. But then she pulls her hands from his and places them over his heart and the touch alone sends a shudder through him.

“We have got to work on our timing.” She whispers as her fingertips press deeper into his chest.

And then she kisses him. He opens his mouth as she grabs his face in fierce desperation. He goes to work on getting his flannel shirt off and she decides to help. They have both forgotten how buttons work but they manage to get it off. As Karen pulls Frank by his tank top, they fall on the linoleum floor in an ungraceful thud. Her fingernails dig into his shoulders and he’s got his hand under her shirt groping at her breast when...

“A red tricycle!”

“Santa!”

A crowd starts cheering and Frank is pulled out of the moment. He makes a face trying to imagine what could be on screen right now and snorts into Karen’s neck. She sighs and grabs the back of his neck like a puppy being pulled by their scruff. Her stare is deadly and Frank is all ears now.

“Really Frank? The movie is that distracting?”

Despite her tone her face and neck are flushed red and yeah, fuck that movie.

“Sorry. Let me see if I can...”

He sticks his hand down the front of her pants, determined to make that movie the last thing on their minds. The world is ending and it’s now or never to see where this thing between them will go. But whatever comes tomorrow, they’ll take it on together.

[mayquita]

Call Me (21/?) - Chocolate, Pancakes, and... Something Else

It’s been 84 years... It seemed that this moment was never going to come and I still can't believe it, but yes, it's happening, a new chapter is here! I'm truly sorry I wasn't able to update before, but as I've already said on some other occasion, there have been a lot of circumstances that have prevented me from writing for one reason or another. My life is slowly returning to normal, and with that, it seems that my inspiration has also returned and I hope it stays with me for a long, long time.

I’d like to express my gratitude to @csmarchmadness , since this event has been the push that I needed to update this story so special for me. 

Also, thanks to @captainsjedi  for taking a look and to @chrissascorner for being my savior and helping me fix mistakes. Special mention to @onceuponaprincessworld for her feedback and for always being there. And, as always, thanks to @saraswans , for her advice, her constant support, her ideas and because without her this story wouldn't be the same.

Thank you so, so much everyone, for your eternal patience, for continuing to have faith in me and this story. I can’t promise anything, but I’ll do my best to try to update soon.

A couple of notes about this chapter before starting reading. It begins the day after their first real date. There will be fluff, fluff and more fluff, and also sexy times... but... as I have already commented on other occasions, I'm not a smut writer, and, although this is probably the most smutty thing I've ever written, eh, no, nothing explicit will appear. At least I tried, right?

Summary: Emma loses her phone after a chase, but she finds a phone in a cafe just when she needs it most. Killian forgets his phone in a cafe when he is about to take a flight to Ireland. Killian makes a call to his own number hoping someone answers on the other end of the line. What will happen when Emma answers the call?

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12Chapter 13 Chapter14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20

FF.net Ao3

Here we go...

Previously on Call Me... After Killian returns to Boston and after finishing the deal they had established to get to know each other better, they decide to have their first real date. Now is the time to find out what will happen after that first date...

Chapter 21 -  Chocolate, Pancakes, and... Something Else

Monday, July 3, 2017

 Ruby: Emma! Where are you? I can't believe you're still asleep.

Ruby: Come on, I'm dying here, I need to know!

Ruby: Or maybe you're busy right now...

Ruby: Tell me you're not alone in your bed.

Ruby: Any more qualities to add to Killian's list? Good kisser maybe?

Ruby: Emma, wake up!

Elsa: Omg! I just saw the picture! It's perfect! I'm very happy for you two. You deserve it. I'll call you later to get all the details of your date.

Emma dropped the phone on the mattress and stretched on the bed, a smile of satisfaction pulling at her lips, as the memory of her date with Killian popped up into her mind. She closed her eyes for a moment as she let herself be enveloped by the lingering sensations, her lips still tingling after tasting the first kisses shared with Killian, her heart still pounding because of her blossoming feelings...

The sound of someone knocking on the door brought her back to reality. Confused, Emma grabbed her phone again to check the time. Too early.

"Emma." Knock knock.

"Emma." Knock knock .

"Emma." Knock knock.

Seriously? Was the nerd imitating Sheldon Cooper? Again?

Despite his unexpected visit — or perhaps precisely because of that— a warm sensation began to hum beneath her skin in anticipation of seeing him again sooner than she had thought. After running her hands through her hair in a failed attempt to untangle it, she rushed to the door, not even bothering to put on her bra. He was her boyfriend now, wasn't he?

She didn't even have time to ask him about the reason for his visit. The moment she opened the door, she was invaded by his warmth, his arms wrapped around her body and his lips catching hers in a kiss maybe too passionate for those hours of the morning.

It only took her a few seconds to react, returning the kiss with enthusiasm while allowing herself to be carried away by the sensations. Even though they had kissed for the first time just a few hours ago, there was already an aura of mutual understanding and confidence in the way her lips molded to his or in the synchronism of their tongues dancing together, as if they had been practicing for much longer.

That didn't stop her body from betraying her in a certain way, because when Killian separated from her, she found it difficult to regain her composure, feeling a slight dizziness taking over her. Luckily, Killian didn't loosen his grip on her waist as she tried to catch her breath, blinking a couple of times to drag away the remnants of sleep and make sure that what she had just experienced had been real and not a figment of her imagination.

"Not that I'm complaining, because obviously I'm not, but what was this about?” Her intention had been to use a carefree tone, but she failed miserably, her words coming out in a shaky breath.

Killian's lips curled into a cocky smirk as he pointed his chin toward his raised hand. The bastard knew the effect he had on her. Even so, she forced herself to look away from his completely kissable lips and directed her eyes towards where he was pointing. Only then did she realize that he was holding a paper bag from which a delicious smell was coming off.

"I thought it was a good idea to bring breakfast on my way to work."

Emma ignored her stomach rumblings as she crossed her arms over her chest and gave him a suspicious look. "But my apartment is not on the way to the docks..."

Killian shrugged. "I guess it's one of the advantages of being your own boss, that allows you to bring breakfast to your girlfriend without worrying about being late."

A strange sensation settled in her heart when she heard him say that word aloud, but Emma preferred to teasing him a bit instead of paying attention to her body's reactions or the escalation of feelings taking over her. "Girlfriend, uh? We've only had one date, don't you think it's a bit pretentious to use that term?"

"Oh, but you're wrong, love. If we ignore the whole month of 'not dating'..." He managed to do the quoting sign with both hands even though he still was holding the paper bag "...Yesterday's would be our third date."

"Third date?"

"Aye, don't you remember our first virtual date, or the second one, the 'movie and popcorn' date?"

She did remember. And she also remembered her own words about a third date — I don't do pillage and plunder until the third date —. The pillage and plunder thing hadn't happened last night, by the way. Emma noticed how her cheeks began to burn as a chill ran down her spine when her treacherous mind started creating different scenarios to develop that activity, each more sinful than the one before.

"Whatever you say." Emma snapped, forcing herself to save those thoughts for another time. "I'm hungry, let's see what you've brought me."

She grabbed the bag and headed for the kitchen. If Killian realized her agitation he didn't mention it, he simply followed her lead. And if her hips swayed slightly in her way trusting that he wouldn't take his eyes off her and that at least her actions would have the same impact on him, well, no one had to know.

They enjoyed their first official breakfast as a couple as they had done before, food peppered with smiles, banter and knowing glances. To her relief, no awkwardness arose between them. On the contrary, she felt even more comfortable and secure with him at her side now that she no longer had to suppress her feelings, didn't have to pretend that she wasn't affected by the accidental touch of their hands, and could express her affection through longing glances or the brush of her lips against his.

There was a moment, when Killian placed a soft kiss on her cheek before getting up to pick up the leftovers and clean her countertop, in which Emma had to shake her head to get rid of a certain feeling of disbelief. She found it hard to believe that only a few hours had passed since their first real date. The comfort and domesticity that surrounded them caused a warm feeling to run through her veins and reach her heart making it swell.

He even waited for her to take a quick shower. The last scene that her eyes registered while she headed the bathroom, was the image of Killian settling on her couch as if he owned the place, making it even more necessary a shower that would allow her to get rid of those mixed feelings — delight and panic — that threatened with colliding.

The spray of warm water falling on her had its desired effect, managing to calm her agitated heart. The calm was short-lived, though. That effect went out the window at the moment she returned to her living room and met with the bright flash of a smile and a look of approval through his very blue eyes. God! She was in serious trouble with that man.

Fortunately, her phone came to her rescue once again, as, at that moment, she remembered the unanswered messages sent by Ruby and Elsa. Her bottom lip caught between her teeth in an attempt to suppress the grin that threatened to appear when an idea jumped in her head.

"I have to do something before leaving, come here." Emma waved her hand at Killian as she pulled her phone out of her pocket. He, of course, complied, giving her an inquisitive look as he stood beside her and wrapped his arms around her waist. She raised the hand that held the phone in front of them, as she snuggled up beside Killian. He, always so perceptive, seemed to understand what was her intention, since, without any instructions, he planted a loud kiss on her cheek just as she pressed the button, capturing the moment.

Good Morning ;)

After sending the brief message accompanying the selfie to her two friends, she grabbed her boyfriend's hand — Gods, she still didn't dare utter that word out loud, the term still strange to her — and they both headed for the exit.

Killian, always the gentleman, accompanied her to her car. Before she got into the vehicle though, he wrapped his arms around her waist, leaning down while kissing her softly. It was a brief kiss, just his lips brushing hers, but with the ability to take her breath away to the point that, feeling how he was beginning to break the kiss, she searched his lips again, reluctant to let him go just yet. She didn't care in the least that they were giving quite the show in the middle of the street. Again.

As Emma let herself be wrapped in the sensations, she wondered if that spiral of feeling inside her would ever calm down; if the warmth that spread all over her body would ever get cool; if the butterflies in her stomach would ever stop beating their wings. All of this was so new to her that she was a little overwhelmed by the escalation of feelings in such a short space of time; at the same time, she also feared that those feelings would end at some point, leaving her empty again.

"I would not complain if the breakfast thing becomes a kind of habit," Emma muttered once she managed to detach herself from his lips and look him in the eye.

"I'm afraid I cannot promise you that, love." One of the corners of his lips twisted slightly upward as he scratched behind his ear. "I have some routes scheduled early in the morning for the rest of the week." He added, looking at her sheepishly through his lashes.

Despite his cute apologetic expression, she felt a tug of disappointment in her stomach. Just as her lips moved in an attempt at an incipient pout, he went into action again, slowing the movement with a new kiss. "I'll make up for it, I promise. See you later?" He murmured, his breath caressing her lips and causing a warm sensation humming beneath her skin.

"Sure, just call me." She managed to utter through a goofy smile before finally entering the car.

Reluctant to lose sight of him, she checked from the rearview mirror as Killian walked away in search of his own vehicle. Only when he disappeared from her sight did she realize that she was still grinning like an idiot while she felt the heat on her cheeks. She forced herself to pull herself together, taking two deep breaths to calm her inner agitation and behave like a normal adult person, not like a girl with her first crush.

Just as she was about to start the car, Emma remembered that she hadn't checked her phone. In fact, several messages were waiting to be read. Although she tried to resist, since she was already late for work, she finally gave up, the curiosity to know the content of the texts was more powerful than her urgency to get to work on time. The messages she found did nothing to make her smile weaken, rather the opposite.

Ruby: Omg! He stayed??? He spent the night??

Ruby: Tell me something!

Ruby: Emma? Tell me we can add one more skill to the list.

Ruby: I want all the details! Well, maybe not everything.

Ruby: Who am I kidding? I want to know everything! Give me juicy information, please!

Although reluctant, Emma felt obliged to get her out of her mistake.

ES: We haven't slept together. Yet. He only brought me breakfast.

Ruby: He brought you breakfast? Well, ‘God in bed’ ability will have to wait then. Meanwhile, we can add a hopeless romantic, can't we?

A laugh bubbled up in her throat, but Emma didn't have time to answer Ruby, as her phone continued to buzz. This time it was Elsa who had sent her a message.

Elsa: Omg Emma! You both look so happy!! I can't wait to talk to either of you to know the details. I'm so happy for you... Seriously, call me when you have the chance!

ES: I'm heading to work now. I'll call you at lunchtime. Thanks for being there, Elsa.

Elsa: Of course. As I already told you, you can count on me. That's what friends are for, isn't it?

Elsa's last words sank deep into her heart, while Emma felt her eyes begin to sting. She still found it hard to believe that, despite the almost paralyzing fear of lowering the walls and risking exposing herself, that also resulted in a new blossoming sensation, with the ability to make her heart swell. She hoped that feeling of someone caring about her would never go away.

//

Dating Killian Jones turned out to be much more reassuring than Emma thought. The oppressive fear in her chest had been replaced by the steady flutter of her stomach every time she saw him. Or even if they were not together at that moment, any thought about him had pleasant physical effects on her. Surprisingly, it was as if, with the demolition of the last brick of the wall around her heart, instead of premonitory clouds, a promising sun would now have appeared in front of her.

If someone had told her long ago that Emma Swan, the lonely and guarded woman would at some point experience this continuous state of bliss, this feeling of floating while her heart burst with happiness, she would have laughed, shaking her head in disbelief.

There were days when she still found it hard to believe that this was her life now, her cheeks aching from so much smiling, stomach pain caused by laughter, the perpetual flutter in her stomach, the tingling under her skin. But it was a reality, Emma Swan was happy for the first time in her entire life.

Three weeks later, Emma was still in that kind of state and it didn't seem like it was going to vanish at any time soon, to her relief.

This new stage in their relationship had not brought great changes in their lives, at least compared to the weeks after his return to Boston (If she compared it to Emma's pre-phone loss the change was brutal, though). They continued to perform the same established routines, eat at Granny's, Fringe marathons, sailing, hang out with Belle and Will, and Sunday brunch including the BOWS club meetings.

There was a not so subtle difference, though. Now they had incorporated other types of activities much more pleasurable. That first Bridget Jones Style kiss had been no more than a prelude to the many that were to come. Intense sessions of making out in any of the two apartments were sprinkled with furtive kisses during visits to one or the other's office. Now there were sweet kisses, just a light brush of lips in contrast with the most passionate, those searing kisses with the ability to leave her breathless and make all her skin tingle craving for more.

Their level of intimacy had been limited only to those shared kisses so far, though. Three weeks later she had not yet had the chance to add " God in bed " to Killian's endless list of qualities. They had decided to take things slow. Well, Killian had made the request under the premise that they had all the time in the world, that he preferred not to rush to find the ideal moment, faithful to his decision to make all the advances in their relationship have a special, unique touch, just like their first kiss. Just like their whole relationship from the very first moment, actually.

She had agreed at first, but after several weeks with little or no progress at all in that regard except for some tentative caresses in the heat of the moment Emma had begun to grow impatient, the intense sessions of making out ended too abruptly for her liking, leaving her frustrated, flustered, breathless and exceptionally horny without the possibility of lightening the growing sexual tension dancing among them unless she took things into her own hands.

If this had happened with someone else —named Walsh —she would have started worrying. With Killian, the feeling was different, in spite of everything. At least that indicated his penetrating gaze full of desire, lust, and longing that he directed her non-stop, with the ability to make her melt or set her on fire inside. The way his body pressed against hers when they were wrapped in one of their many kissing sessions making it clear how affected he felt by their activities was also a sufficient indication that the desire was there, simmering inside. She just had to wait for it to surface.

The day he suggested dinner in his apartment for that very night, Emma wondered if the moment had finally arrived. She tried not to read too much in the way he had addressed her, purring the words as he undressed her with his gaze, but her body had betrayed her once more, a rush of liquid heat running to her very core.

Although she had tried to pretend in front of him, using a carefree tone while teasing him with his possible choice of menu for dinner, the truth was that nerves had begun to make an appearance, along with an old friend, a paralyzing fear. This would be the first time in a long time that she shared a bed with someone with feelings involved.

She wasn't a prude, sex was not a problem, or at least it was the least of her issues. This had happened with her several one-night stands over the years. These exchanges were usually something quick and easy, without complications. Both her partner and she knew what they wanted and went for it.

But she wasn't sure what to do with this growing amount of feelings bubbling under her skin. Her mind had only retained small vestiges of what it had been like to make love with Neal and back then she had been too young and inexperienced, at least at the beginning. She suspected that with Killian everything would be different for several reasons, but the main one was that she was already a grown woman, had gained enough experience and, above all, her feelings were now much more intense. That thought alone made her heart beat frantically in her chest while her head spun.

A sense of vulnerability and insecurity settled in her stomach, mixed with her almost irrepressible desire. After this huge step, she would not only have given her heart to Killian, also her body and her very soul. And that terrified the hell out of her. Old Emma would have run through the hills or turned the fact into just sex. This new Emma, however, after taking two deep breaths, forced herself to leave behind her insecurities and get the best out of this first night together. The prelude to the many that were to come, at least that was what she hoped.

Well, as long as her suspicions came true, of course. A thought crossed her mind just as she stood in front of her wardrobe choosing the outfit she would wear. Until now, showing a certain sense of selfishness, she had only taken into account her own feelings, but there were two people involved here, and the other person, Killian, also carried his own old demons. Maybe that was the reason, maybe he was also scared to offer her something that he hadn't offered since Milah.

Emma shook her head, blinking away all those thoughts and decided to let herself go. She would trust her instincts and Killian's reactions, without forcing anything. If tonight there was finally no sex between them, she could wait. She wasn't going anywhere.

Still, at the last moment, she decided to grab a backpack and put some toiletries and a change of clothes inside. It was Friday after all and, even if they didn't sleep together, at least they could continue with their Fringe marathon. Maybe she would fall asleep on the couch. It wouldn't be the first time. Would it be?

//

Friday, July 21, 2017

The sharp thud of the knife against the cutting board resounded in his kitchen, causing Killian to come out of his reverie and realize that he was perhaps exerting too much force in chopping the vegetables from the salad.

He should have known better. From the very beginning, everything about Emma had affected him in such a way to the point of feeling like a schoolboy sometimes and turning him into a bundle of nerves unable to control his emotions.

All the bravado displayed when he had suggested the plan for the night had gone out the window when the implications of what would happen washed over him. " Bloody hell ", he muttered to himself as he dragged his hand down his face and rubbed at the scruff on his jaw. He was a grown man, how on earth was he so affected by the idea of spending the night with a woman?

He had the answer, of course. Maybe he had tried to fool himself with poor excuses that masked the real reason why after three weeks of dating they hadn't yet had sex. The explanation he had offered to Emma was true. But there was another deeper meaning hidden behind that excuse, he had his own reasons for postponing the act. Even though his intention to keep moving on was firm, he was still far from reaching his destination. The fact that by the time he had finally gotten back his phone he had hidden it in a drawer without even checking out its contents was an indication of it.

He wanted to offer Emma something unique, something special and unforgettable. But for that to happen he needed that during their first time together there would be no ghosts of the past hunting them, hovering around the bedroom. He wanted to offer himself completely to Emma, without fissures, without uncertainty. She deserved it. And that state hadn't been achieved until now, when he had realized that all his thoughts were consumed by Emma. Her image was the first that came to mind when he woke up in the morning, her memory the last before closing his eyes and surrendering to sleep.

The ghost of that bloke, Walsh, was also hovering over him. No way did he want to be compared to such a despicable guy and he did not want to risk Emma getting the wrong idea either.

These three weeks had been real agony, as if he had decided to impose himself a kind of punishment by engaging in a frustrating and tortuous path. The innumerable cold showers he had taken throughout these days had been nothing more than a small relief to his almost constant state of agitation. 

He could feel in all the fibers of his being that he was ready to take the next step, but that did not stop his insecurities from surfacing since this would be the first time he would sleep with a woman since Milah with feelings involved.

Because the truth was undeniable, he harbored deep feelings for Emma. He still didn't dare to put a name to them but they swirled inside, struggling to come to the surface even if it was in the form of a caress, a longing glance or a promising kiss, without him being able to stop them.

Other kinds of worries also boiled inside him. Far were the first years after Milah's death, when he had tried to drown his sorrows in alcohol and sex. He had realized gradually that the answer was not there, so even though alcohol had been a companion on more occasions than necessary, the female company had been spaced out in time. There had been no woman in his bed for quite some time, the last one, just before traveling to Ireland in November of the previous year. The fear of not measuring up, of not being able to offer Emma what she deserved was real.

The sound of someone knocking on the door made him flinch and almost cutting himself in the process. He dropped the knife between curses and forced himself to take a deep breath and let it out slowly in an attempt to calm his growing nervousness before opening the door. 

At the last moment, before facing Emma, he decided that, whatever happened tonight, enjoying Emma's company would be more than enough for him. But this time, if she, who always seemed to be one step ahead in that regard, decided to keep moving forward, he not only wouldn't slow down her progress but would gladly encourage her to continue exploring.

All his doubts and insecurities disappeared the moment his eyes fell on Emma. She presented herself to him as a goddess wearing a simple sundress, her golden hair combed in a braid that fell over her shoulder. Her cheeks were colored by a slight rosy hue and her green eyes glowed in a special way as her lips drew a tempting smile, in clear invitation to be kissed.

But what really captivated him, causing his heart to flutter was the fact that she was carrying a backpack slung over her shoulder, implying, without needing words, that she was more than willing to spend the night. With him. Preferably in his bed. And maybe the next day too, at least if he had anything to say about it.

"Hi," she greeted him before brushing his lips with hers. He watched in awe as she passed by him in the direction of the kitchen, dropping the backpack on the couch on her way and perching herself onto one of the stools located next to the kitchen island, as if she owned the place. As if she belonged there. Well, where would the lie be? A special part of his heart already belonged to her.

"Oh thank God!" She blurted, noticing the sandwiches on the counter, waiting to be grilled. "I thought for a moment that you were going to prepare some of those recipes of yours with fish involved."

Her expression of disgust with a wrinkled nose and an adorable pout caused a chuckle bubbling in his throat. He approached the counter, taking up the task of chopping the vegetables for the salad. "I was tempted, but I had the suspicion that wouldn't be the most appropriate choice if I wanted this not to become a one-time thing."

"So you decided to seduce me with food instead, didn't you?" She teased him as she arched one of her perfect eyebrows, her tongue peeking to moisten her already luscious lips.

He pretended to remain focused on the salad but couldn't help but cast a sidelong glance at her. "Is it working?" He asked dropping his voice to a husky whisper. "Just wait to see the dessert I've prepared just thinking of you."

In answer, she got up and pounced on him, taking him by surprise as she caught his lips with hers in a demanding kiss. He was definitely going to get cut before finishing the bloody salad.

Before he could react, she pulled away from him, sporting a naughty smirk as she returned to her position on the stool. "For me to decide I have to try it first, don't you think?" She murmured, licking her lips again as if to prove her point. Bloody hell, her performance was not helping in the least to control his agitation. He swallowed hard, while his blood ran hot to the south, all the cells of his body craving for her. He had to close his eyes for a second, trying to calm down enough to avoid having his way with her right there, in the middle of the kitchen.

He hastened to finish the salad, placing the bowl in her hands. "And that's the plan, love, that you taste all the delights I've prepared for you. And now, would you be so kind as to bring that to the table?"

"Are you sure you don't need help here?" She offered through a smile that seemed innocent enough, but he didn't trust that she wouldn't continue to tempt him if she stayed with him in the kitchen.

"I'll go up in a bit, when I finish the sandwiches." He assured her with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Everything else is already set on the rooftop."

Her eyes widened as a flash of approval crossed her gaze. "So dinner on the rooftop, eh? I like the way you think." She said, as she walked away in the direction of the spiral staircase, the swaying of her hips perhaps too suggestive for her own good.

When she disappeared from his sight, he clenched his jaw, directing his gaze to the ceiling in an attempt to summon enough self-control to finish the dinner without incident. The siren he had as a girlfriend was certainly making it difficult for him.

Killian arrived at the roof a few minutes later, holding the plates with the grilled cheese sandwiches. He found that Emma was already sitting in one of the garden chairs, while gazing appreciatively at everything around her.

She wore a peaceful expression, matching the quiet night that had already fallen on Boston. The place looked impressive, honestly. He congratulated himself for having achieved just what was he was looking for. The only source of light came from various candles and lanterns distributed along the balcony, creating an intimate atmosphere. A fresh, summery scent from the many plants in his private garden surrounded them. No sound, no outside glance could interrupt their dinner. There was just the two of them and the endless feelings dancing between them.

To his relief, dinner was a success. They seemed to have reached a non-verbal agreement to temporarily park the evident sexual tension emanating from them and instead they just enjoyed the delicious food while keeping a fluent conversation peppered with smiles and knowing glances. He still was surprised that they felt so comfortable in each other's company. Maybe the month of the pact, while they built their friendship without pressure, just getting to know each other, it had served its purpose so that now there was no awkwardness flitting between them.

When it was time for dessert, Killian insisted that Emma remain relaxed on the rooftop, but she rejected the idea immediately, alluding that she had to see with her own eyes if "that dessert of yours is so worth it."

He should have suspected that Emma would find a pleasurable way of waiting for the cakes to be baked. Actually, he couldn't blame Emma entirely, since from the moment he closed the oven door he turned around and they both met halfway, their lips fusing together.

Only when the timer started ringing, announcing that the dessert was ready, they managed to detach from each other, the intense chocolate aroma emanating from the oven reaching their nostrils at that time. Emma closed her eyes for a moment as she inhaled deeply, a soft sound sliding between her lips, as if she was already savoring the cake. When she opened her eyes again, she stared at him with a fire in her emerald gaze that immediately made his blood run hot.

He had to swallow hard, resisting the temptation to grab her and kiss her senselessly, to hell with the cakes. Later, he thought as he forced himself away from temptation and turned his attention to the oven. He had spent a lot of time elaborating the recipe and would be disappointed if the result wasn't what he expected, so he held his breath while unmolding the cakes, feeling the scrutiny of Emma's gaze on him.

"Oh my god, you've baked chocolate lava cakes, haven't you?" When Killian looked up he found that Emma's face had lit up, her lips drawing a giant smile. He couldn't help but smile too, marveling at Emma Swan's complexity. A minute before she was showing off all her power of seduction and the next minute she acted like a little girl receiving a birthday present.

Until now he had only witnessed some glimpses of the previous Emma, the lonely woman who protected her heart fiercely, erecting walls difficult to climb. But he had managed to see what was behind those walls almost from the beginning. The fact that, in a way, he was contributing to these walls disappearing, showing this wonderful woman, was a source of pride for him, although he also harbored some responsibility. But if he had to spend hours in the kitchen making a dessert for her to give him that bright smile and that sparkle in the eyes, so be it.

"There's only one way to find out." Killian winked at her as he offered her a teaspoon. She bit her bottom lip, looking around, as if deciding whether she stayed there or not. Then she grabbed the spoon and plate and hurried toward the stairs.

"Hurry up, I don't want it to cool and ruin the effect." Emma urged him, before climbing up and disappearing from sight. He, of course, followed her. He would always follow her.

The cake was delicious, that dessert was one of his specialties for a reason, after all. Emma seemed to think the same, at least that implied her expression, as she watched in awe how the liquid chocolate escaped through the crack formed by the spoon, reaching the plate. A soft moan slid between her lips as she closed her eyes savoring the chocolate, causing a chill to run down his spine. She was going to be the death of him even before they had the chance to move to his bedroom.

"One of these days I'm going to record you making those sounds while you eat. It's funny how they could be understood in a quite different way if someone doesn't know the context." The words escaped his lips before he had time to process them, but given Emma's reaction, he did not regret it at all.

Even in the gloom, he noticed how her cheeks flushed, but, far from looking embarrassed, she gave him a seductive look from under her lashes as she brought the empty spoon to her lips and licked the remains of the chocolate. Next, she simply shrugged, as she replied in a sensual tone, her low voice full of intention. "I can't help it, chocolate is one of my great pleasures, as you may have guessed. But I will try to keep quiet next time."

"Don't even think about it, Swan." He almost growled. If chocolate was one of Emma's great pleasures, one of his own was to watch her little gestures and sounds. He would never tire of continuing to discover all the pieces of the wonderful puzzle that she represented.

They managed to finish the dessert without any other interruption. When Emma offered to help him clear the table, he refused, alluding that she was the guest of honor and that she should take advantage of those moments to relax enjoying the magnificent night outside. Emma reluctantly agreed. Still, it was clear that she felt at ease, at least the way she settled into her seat indicated it.

Once the kitchen was cleaned, he returned to the upper floor, his skin tingling in anticipation of what was to come. The image he found reminded him immediately of the first time Emma had spent the night in his apartment, when he had found her the next day at that very spot.

She held the same position this time, leaning on the railing, her head slightly turned, allowing him to observe her profile, her gaze lost somewhere in the darkness of the night, her lips drawing a smile of contentment. She was breathtaking.

As on that occasion, he approached her and wrapped her from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder. Her back arched at the moment she felt his presence, while her hands moved to seek his arms and tighten the embrace.

"I love this balcony." Emma murmured as she rested her head against his chest. "I would be happy living here, even without a bed."

He was aware that she was just joking but the mere thought that this could come true in the near future caused a strange sensation in his heart, something like longing. He blinked away those thoughts, leaving them for another time and decided to play along.

"In fact, there's a pullout bed in the studio next to the rooftop, love."

"Uhm, tempting, but the bathroom is downstairs, too far away. A pity."

"Besides, while I've not been able to experience it until now, I suspect that winter in Boston is not the most suitable season to live in the open." Killian realized the meaning of his words when he noticed how Emma tensed slightly under his embrace. It was true, he hadn't yet spent any winter here, always traveling to Ireland during the colder months. A sense of uneasiness settled in his stomach due to the fact that in a few months he would have to leave the city again to travel and meet his family. But there was still time for worrying about that, they would cross that bridge when they both arrived. That was an agreement between her and him from the moment they started their relationship, to take advantage of the moment, not to let their future expectations dictate how they should live their present.

"Do you know one of the things I like the most about your rooftop?" Emma's soft voice brought him back to reality. She continued without waiting for an answer. "Privacy. Nobody can see or hear us."

"I guess we should take advantage of that, shouldn't we?" Killian muttered before beginning to sprinkle the exposed skin of her neck and collarbone with light kisses, his lips leaving a path of goosebumps in their wake. Emma's response was immediate, to his delight. She turned around and, grabbing his shirt, she pulled him close, her lips capturing his in a searing kiss.

He was a goner from that moment on, too consumed by her kisses, her essence, the feeling of her warm body pressed against his. While trying to comply with her demanding lips, he lost track of time and space to the point that he wasn't even aware of moving into the studio and sitting on the couch with Emma straddling his lap.

They devoured each other as if there were no tomorrow, their hands were everywhere, her hips moving over him and exerting a delicious friction that was driving him crazy with need.

He wouldn't have minded giving in to passion right there, in the gloom of the studio, while the soft breeze of the night crept through the open door to the rooftop. But he had other plans that basically meant worshiping Emma's body for endless hours, under the shelter of his sheets, in his own bed.

Displaying an entire exercise of self-control, he managed to separate his lips from hers for a moment, searching her gaze while cupping her cheek with one hand. "Emma, love, we..." His voice trailed off when Emma ignored him, nipping his lower lip lightly instead as she moved her hips against his evident arousal. He couldn't help a growing groan from deep in his chest, but he tried again. "We need to move." He breathed against her swollen lips.

"I don't want to move." She mumbled, a shadow of disappointment crossed her gaze, as if she anticipated that her advances would be stopped once more. He realized at that moment that it might have been a mistake to wait these three weeks without giving her an honest explanation, which might have led to her getting the wrong idea. He needed to get her out of her mistake. "I need... I would prefer if we continue this in a more comfortable place."

She stared at him through narrowed eyes, her brow furrowed, as if she was trying to discern his true intentions. He decided to act to make it clear that he didn't have the faintest intention of leaving things that way. His hand slid down from the back of her head to the small of her back, looking for that part of her anatomy that he found so delectable, even covered by clothes. He pressed, drawing her close so that she could note how very interested he was in continuing.

She was a vision just like that, a moan escaping between her lips, a soft blush adorning her neck and cheeks, her heavy breathing causing her chest to move in a distracting way. But what fascinated him the most, was the fire in her eyes, he could lose himself in the intense green sea of her gaze. To his relief, she seemed to understand the message as her lips drew the ghost of a smile. "I'm pretty comfortable here."

"Aye, but we can get even more comfortable." He insisted, though his resolve weakened at times. He cradled her head with his other hand and tugged her lips to his to keep savoring her, something to which he had already become addicted. She moaned again against his lips, angling her head to allow him deeper.

After a few seconds —or maybe minutes, he wasn't sure, his mind too clouded with lust— it was Emma who decided to break the kiss, her eyes sparkling with a playful glow. "What happened to your idea of looking for something unique? Because I find the bed quite traditional and a bit boring, to be honest."

"That's because you haven't shared a bed with me yet, Swan. So, what do you say? Are you willing to find out if my bed and the activities we develop in it fulfill your expectations of originality?" He suggested lowering his tone to a sensual whisper.

He must have sounded convincing, at least that's what he assumed from the expression she wore, biting her lower lip as she arched one of her eyebrows. "Okay, take me to bed, Jones."

"I would gladly carry you, but I don't want to risk tripping while we go down the stairs."

She giggled, really giggled, before getting up and offering her hand, pulling him then and leading the way, as it used to happen lately. He, of course, obliged.

Once in the shelter of his bedroom, they took things more calmly, sharing languid kisses while their hands began their first tentative explorations on their bodies. Her mouth molded so perfectly to his that he could spend hours doing just that, savoring her soft lips, letting himself be intoxicated by her scent, feeling her teeth playfully nibble on his lower lip.

Emma grew impatient, since, after one last kiss, she turned around in his arms, offering him a sinful glance over her shoulder. "I may need help with the zipper." Her soft and seductive voice causing him to feel his pants getting tighter.

As the zipper of the dress descended, he got a glimpse of her underwear, making his desire to taste her creamy skin more urgent, the tingling of his fingers craving to touch and feel the warmth that emanated from her. Before turning around and facing him again, she let the dress slip down, pooling at her feet.

He breathed out on a shaky exhale when his eyes finally settled on her almost naked figure but he barely had time to extend his arm to caress her perfect curves, since Emma's lips were on his in an instant, as he reached for his t-shirt and pulled on it in a gesture not too subtle for him to take it off.

Once they stripped each other, their clothes scattered all over the room, he gently pushed her down and made her lie on the bed. He took a moment to appreciate her body, the corners of his lips rising slightly as the memory of a photograph came to mind.

"You're stunning, Swan." He leaned in, covering her body with his and leaving a trail of kisses from the line of her jaw to her neck. "Do you remember the picture you sent me with you in that bathtub?" He lifted his head, seeking her gaze. Emma did not answer, but her cheeks blushed even more, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. She remembered, of course. "I haven't been able to get that image out of my head since then. Trying to imagine what would be hidden behind those bubbles has driven me crazy." His voice came in a raspy tone before he put back his mouth to better use.

"Have I exceeded your expectations?" She murmured, her warm breath caressing his lips.

"Indeed." He barely lifted his lips to mumble his answer and then returned to his task of kissing her senselessly.

She had other plans, though. Breaking the kiss, she cupped his cheek with one hand, locking her eyes with his. She had that expression on her face, her lips drawing the ghost of a grin, a challenging flash crossing her gaze. "And are you going to do something about it?"

"Aye." His whole body hummed in anticipation, while he was unable to hide the lust in his voice. "Would you allow me to touch you, Emma? To taste you?"

"Where?"

"Everywhere."

Her head nodded frantically giving him the permission he needed. From there, he became a man with a mission; his goal, to enhance every drop of pleasure Emma has.

For the next few minutes he devoted himself to touch, to taste, to explore and worship her body the way she deserved, using his hands, his teeth, his tongue and getting her to vibrate under his touch, the delicious sounds that escaped from her mouth causing his level of arousal to rise until it was almost painful, leaving him in need of an urgent release. The moment she came undone, uttering his name on a trembling exhale, he knew he had fulfilled his goal, a wave of satisfaction and pride washing over him.

But the night had not ended there, in fact, it had only just begun, at least that's what Emma's actions implied when she came down from her high, her breathing still heavy, her lips swollen, and a penetrating gaze with the ability to take his breath away. She pulled him towards her for a kiss, while her hands ran up and down his back.

He needed her, he needed to feel her on a deeper level or his desire would end up combusting him. She seemed to understand, helping him put on the proper protection, his movements somewhat clumsy at first, causing them to share a funny moment, easing the tension. "I'm sorry love, I may be a bit out of practice."

"That's not the way it seemed in your previous performance." She assured him through a grin. "Come here. Let's practice a bit more."

Only when he positioned himself between her legs did he realize that the delay of three weeks had been worth it, that they had managed to make nothing and nobody cloud their magical moment. His heart tightened in his chest at the thought that he should perhaps feel guilty for having developed such intense feelings and because now Emma was the one who occupied all his thoughts. But deep down, he knew that Milah would approve what was about to happen. She would have wanted him to be happy and, in fact, he was about to burst with happiness.

"Killian?" Emma's voice came to his ears with a slight hint of concern. A crease between her brows and an inquisitive look made him see that he had remained absorbed for too long. The time to take action had arrived.

She was all that mattered now. His lips drew a soothing smile in order to remove any trace of worry from her beautiful face. Only when she smiled back, cheering him up without words, did he lean in search of her lips at the same moment he slid inside her.

He stifled a moan as their bodies fused together, feeling her warmth envelop him, his heart beating frantically and threatening to come out of his chest. He wasn't used to such sensations running through his veins, all his muscles tensed, overwhelmed by the emotions. He buried his face in Emma's hair, needing a few seconds before beginning to move.

Once he was able to regain control over his body, he set a new goal, bringing Emma to ecstasy once more. It was then when they began to move in synchrony, enjoying the pleasure of skin against skin, their bodies molded to each other as if they had been created for that purpose.

He had been aware from the beginning that what would happen in his bed wouldn't be just sex, but it was one thing to think about it and quite another to feel it in all the fibers of his being causing a kind of vertigo, his head spinning to the certainty that they were making love, although the word was still too big to even think about.

Their movements were full of passion, her demanding lips never leaving his. He tried to comply with each kiss, but he wasn't satisfied with just tasting her mouth, his lips brushing any patch of skin that his movements allowed to reach, her neck, her collarbone, her chest, while he let himself be intoxicated by the indescribable feeling of having such a goddess beneath him.

She also showed that she knew what she wanted, her hands were everywhere, although she seemed to have a predilection for his back. The way she stroked that part of his anatomy was driving him crazy. She could go from a subtle touch with her fingertips to an almost painful trace with her nails.

At one point, when he felt the pull of the impending climax approaching, he grabbed her hand, moving it over her head and intertwining her fingers with his. It was like this, with their mouths fused together drowning out their respective moans, how they found sweet release. In that precise moment, when he was still panting, unable to move, the adrenaline rushing high in his veins, he had the absolute certainty that he would live to bring pleasure to this wonderful woman in every possible way.

//

"It's not that I'm complaining, because I clearly am not, but will you ever tell me the real reason why we've waited so long to have... to sleep together?"

His brain was unable at first to process Emma's words. They were huddled side by side in his bed, her head resting on his shoulder, while her fingers traced delicate patterns on his bare stomach, their lower limbs tangled together.

After their amorous activities, he had entered in such a state of bliss and relaxation that he felt almost like he was floating while his eyelids became heavy to the point where he was about to doze.

Emma's voice activated his senses again, but his mind was still a little clouded, so he took his time before answering. Indeed, there didn't seem to be any trace of complaint in her voice, rather curiosity. Killian took a deep breath letting out the air slowly and then he decided to offer her an honest answer. She didn't deserve less.

"I just wanted to be sure there weren't any demons from the past wandering around us, that's all." He placed a soft kiss on her hair, trusting that his answer was enough.

Emma slowed the movement of her fingers on his skin for a brief moment, while he held his breath, but, to his relief, then she continued with her traces, while she replied with a single word. "Good."

"Besides, I remembered that bloke, Walsh, and I didn't want you to draw the wrong conclusion." His words came out of his mouth without he could do anything to stop them. What was wrong with him, bringing another man to the conversation while he lay with a woman in his bed?

Emma lifted her head looking for his gaze. "Do you remember?"

"I remember everything you've told me, darling, even though I still didn’t know you in person or didn’t even know what you looked like."

How was it possible that Emma had that look of disbelief on her face? As if it were hard for her to believe that someone could have such an interest in her. It was evident that he must work more in that regard and that, like him, although Emma was doing an impressive job in her attempt to open up to others, she still had a long way to go. He was sure that they would accompany each other in their paths. At least he had no intention of leaving her side at any time soon, both physically and metaphorically speaking.

Her expression changed subtly, a soft smile pulling at her lips, but then her brows furrowed. "Don't ever even mention that asshole. You both are not comparable and I wasn’t really worried, not at least in that aspect."

"Good." He parroted her earlier response, his stomach fluttering at the passion she put in her words, even if it was to throw a scolding at him. Then he pulled her to him again, his fingers tangled in her curls, as she resumed her task of caressing him.

Soon, he felt the sleepiness begin to invade him again. He had already decided to surrender to it by embracing Emma in his arms, when something put him on alert again. Suddenly, Emma's weight on him disappeared, causing a wave of irrational panic to meddle him at the thought that she was leaving his bed.

Impulsively, he reached out his arm and captured her wrist, slowing her movement. "Stay." He hated the vulnerability in his voice, using a single word as a plea. "Stay." He repeated with a firmer tone. She stopped her progress but kept her back to him, so he thought frantically of some reason that would make her stay. "If you come back to bed I'll make you breakfast tomorrow, and you already know my cooking skills."

This time he did get a reaction from Emma. She turned her head, looking at him over her shoulder, her face showing an impenetrable expression. "Are you trying to seduce me with the food again?"

"Is it working?"

Only when her face split into a giant grin, was he able to let out the breath he had been holding.

"Always."

He offered her his hand and when she accepted, he pulled her towards him, both returning to their original positions. Sleep seemed to have abandoned him, though. He had already begun to resign himself to the fact that he would barely get to rest tonight, but having someone like Emma by his side, who needed to sleep? Indeed, the calm did not last long. Emma raised her head again, a mischievous smile adorning her features. "Just for the record, I wasn't going anywhere, I just needed to use the bathroom."

“Bad form love,” he muttered in a rough voice, as he pulled her closer, her golden curls brushing against his cheek, “taking advantage of a poor man desperate not to be alone. Should I punish you?"

“Is that…” she trailed off, a breathy moan slipping between her lips while his fingers slowly traveled along her spine, “... a promise?” A low groan blossomed deep in his chest, "you're going to be the death of me," he murmured before capturing her lips with his and surrendering to her once more.

//

Saturday, July 22, 2017

When Emma woke up the next morning the sun was already shining high in the sky, the soft morning light seeping through the window and illuminating the bedroom, causing Emma to remain reluctant to open her eyes just yet.

Her mind was still clouded by the vestiges of sleep, making her feel a little bewildered at first and with the need to snuggle, seeking refuge in the cool sheets in contact with her skin.

Gradually, as her mind cleared, she began to be aware of her surroundings. The moment her brain processed the fact that she didn't own such soft sheets, reality came in waves hitting her hard.

Of course, she was not in her bed, nor in her bedroom. A swirl of mixed feelings seized her as the memories of the previous night gathered in her head. She couldn't prevent a blush from crawling from her neck, making her cheeks burn, feeling somewhat embarrassed, something unusual in her with regard to such activities. Maybe the reason was that she wasn't used to waking up in the very bed in which they had carried out an intense, mind-blowing sex session just a few hours ago.

"Oh god." She covered her face with her hands while her stubborn mind insisted on repeating, again and again, the top moments of the night, making the blush of her cheeks increase, and also, a new wave of desire beginning to run through her veins.

She instinctively reached out her hand to the other side of the bed, finding it empty, something that did not surprise her, since Killian had previously informed her that he needed to get up early that Saturday morning. Still, a tug of disappointment settled in her stomach. But maybe it's better that way, she told herself. All this was so new to her that waking up with someone huddled by her side might have been like too much.

After letting out a deep breath, she stretched out on the bed, feeling her body slightly sore in the right places. An unstoppable smile of satisfaction bloomed on her face as she reached for her phone to check the time. The smile widened when, in addition to her phone, she found a handwritten note on the nightstand.

Good morning, my sleeping beauty. I apologize for having been forced to leave the bed so soon, but, as I had already told you, some clients wanted to watch the sunrise from the sea, so who am I to deny them such pleasure? Still, I'll be home in time to prepare the promised breakfast. Yours, Killian.

Two aspects caught her attention as she read the note. First, the deliberate use of possessives on two occasions and second, the word home and its implications. Maybe this wasn't her apartment, but he had made it clear that he was going back home, to her. She anticipated the arrival of panic, or the need to run away at the intensity of the feelings blossoming inside her, but, far from that, where before her heart would have tightened with fear, now it fluttered with anticipation. She really couldn't wait to see him and, above all, feel him again.

After placing the note on the table again she grabbed the phone. There was something important that she had to do. She opened the chat window with Ruby and started typing.

ES: We can now add 'God in bed' to Killian's list

The response of her friend was immediate.

Ruby: Yay! I knew it! Lucky girl, I envy you right now. I want all the details!

A chuckle bubbled in her throat at the shamelessness of her friend. In no way was she going to confess her intimacies, she might have opened up to others, but not to that extent. Even so, knowing that someone was out there interested in her caused a warm feeling to spread through her body.

ES: I'm not telling you anything, Ruby. Just suffice to say that I have every intention of continuing to practice throughout the weekend.

Ruby: Ouch, you're not funny. Anyway, enjoy the rest of the sex weekend. See you soon.

It was still early, at least for a Saturday morning. Emma deduced that Killian would still take a while to come back, so she needed to find a distraction while waiting for him. Although she was reluctant to leave the bed, she finally made the decision to crawl into the bathroom and take a shower.

The warm shower turned out to be a wise decision, the spray of water falling over her acting as a balm, although the water would also drag the vestiges of Killian's essence that still lingered on her skin. She was tempted for a moment to apply his shampoo, in order to keep his scent for a little longer, but finally decided to use her own, knowing in advance that Killian was quite fond of the vanilla scent, of her hair in general. Emma did not miss that he took advantage of the slightest opportunity to tangle his fingers in her curls, leave soft kisses on the top of her head or simply bring his nose close and inhale.

The shower had taken longer than she had thought at first since, when she came out, she perceived the unmistakable aroma of the bacon coming from the kitchen, causing her stomach to growl and her heart to skip a beat. Killian had arrived.

She hastened to towel off, untangle her hair, and get dressed, opting to wear only tiny panties and the famous Fringe t-shirt, which she had finally got two weeks ago.

Then she walked silently to the kitchen, finding Killian in front of the stove, his back to her, wearing only sweatpants and bare-chested. That meant he had changed clothes when he got home, which implied that, on his way to his bedroom, he would have passed in front of the bathroom door while she was inside, he just would have needed to open the door and... Stop! A flurry of heat flowed to Emma's core, as she bit her lower lip, holding back a groan. Breakfast. She needed to focus on breakfast and on her hungry stomach.

Still, that didn't stop her from slipping in quietly until she was just behind Killian. If he noticed her presence he didn't show it, since he continued with his task while humming in a low voice. Unable to resist any longer, she put her arms around him from behind, resting her head and her hair still damp on his back. A chill ran down her spine the moment her hands came into contact with his bare chest.

"Mmmm, something smells delicious."

Killian chuckled, the muscles of his chest moving under Emma's touch. "Wait to take a bite, they'll taste even better."

"I'm not talking about pancakes, I mean bacon." Without waiting for an answer, she approached the counter and grabbed a piece of bacon from the plate set there, bringing it to her mouth.

It was then when Killian's head turned, an arched eyebrow and an amusing expression on his face. "Bad form, love, stealing food while the other person is focused on getting the pancakes do not burn." He pointed at her with the spatula while winking. "I've always known there was a little pirate in you."

"Turn your head Jones, and do not get distracted." She faked a bossy tone, frowning as she made the gesture of turning around with her hand. "I'm still waiting for my promised breakfast, the bacon is just an advance." To prove her point, she bit the bacon again and licked her lips to savor it.

"So demanding, Swan."

"But you like it." She smirked at him as she perched on the kitchen island directly in front of him, from where she had the best access to continuing watching Killian. "I'm hungry, keep going."

He ignored her for a moment, his gaze scanning her body from top to bottom as if assessing whether to dash to capture his prey or not. Finally, his eyes traveled upwards, focusing on hers and directing her a penetrating gaze that shouted silently ‘later’. He licked his lips before tilting his head slightly. "As you wish." And then he turned around and resumed his task.

Emma enjoyed herself with the sight in front of her, with his broad shoulders, his narrow waist, the movement of his muscles as he worked, the way the sweatpants hung loosely from his hips... She suppressed the urge to send the breakfast and pancakes to hell and reach for those pants, now that she knew what was hidden under them. The mere idea made her mouth water and not just for the food.

Emma was unprepared for Killian to turn around unexpectedly holding a plate full of pancakes, "Your breakfast is ready, milady." He offered with an exaggerated bow. She realized at that moment that her mouth hung open, so she forced herself to press her lips together and focus her gaze on... the plate of pancakes. Too late. "See something you like, Swan?" The bastard smirked at her before approaching her with a predatory expression on his face.

Before Emma could react, he set the plate of pancakes on the counter, far enough away from her, and then reached for her.

"Good Morning." He murmured, his lips only inches from hers, circling her waist and pulling her to him.

"Hi," She managed to mumble, placing her arms around his neck, while a warm sensation spread all over her body, her stomach fluttering in anticipation. "I missed you this morning."

"Aye, love, me too." His lips came even closer to hers, without touching them. "Well, it's time to make up for the wait, isn't it?" Without waiting for her response, he finally offered her what she was craving, capturing her lips with his.

They continued like this for the next few minutes, the food completely forgotten, and instead, satiating their hunger for each other. His hands began to wander over her body, while he hummed in appreciation against her lips when he noticed that she had not bothered to put on the bra. "Even though I'm fond of that lovely t-shirt you wear, I'd rather see you without it." He growled while helping her to take it off with a fluid movement, leaving her bare torso to match him.

Even though her mind was clouded by desire, she found a glimmer of lucidity that she used to tease him.  "So this is going to be the typical pre-breakfast sex session?" Killian ignored her, his scruff rubbing against the sensitive skin of her neck. Emma bit her lip in an attempt to suppress a moan and continued speaking in a seductive whisper. "You disappoint me, Jones. First, you go with the classic missionary position for our first time and now the cliché of sex in the kitchen. What happened to your idea of unique and special moments?" "I didn’t hear you complain about rounds two and three." He mumbled, hot puffs of air sending goosebumps down her skin. "But if you prefer, we can move our activities to a place that meets your standards of originality, like the rooftop, maybe?"

"Nah, maybe later. Come here, Jones, we still have several places to try in this apartment of yours." She drew him to herself pressing his chest against hers and enjoying the delicious friction of the hair of his torso against her delicate skin. Definitely, she could get used to this new way of enjoying Saturday mornings.

//

They spent the rest of the weekend in company with each other, much of that time in his apartment, exploring their bodies and discovering new forms of pleasure, their level of intimacy becoming even more intense. But they not only devoted themselves to enjoying fantastic sex, they also had time to get out of their particular bubble and socialize with their friends.

On Saturday afternoon Emma accompanied Killian to one of his practices to teach small kids to sail. Later, they met with Belle and Will to hang out for a while. When they returned to Killian's apartment hours later they resumed the task of continuing to enjoy each other.

On Sunday morning Emma did wake up with a warm body beside her on the bed. Contrary to what she had thought at first, feeling someone curled up next to her with a protective arm on her waist, far from appearing too much, caused her a feeling of contentment unknown until now, while she longed to wake up like this every morning— forever.

They had their usual brunch with Mary Margaret, David, and little Leo. This time, Graham and Merida, who had finally started dating, also joined them. She found this facet of socializing with other people more and more satisfying, something unexpected for her, but at least that was a sign that she was still on the right path of opening her heart completely.

They even had time to make a video call with Liam, Elsa, and the kids. This wasn't the first time she had participated in these calls since they had started dating. In addition, her level of affinity with Elsa had increased over the weeks and they chatted from time to time even if neither of the two Jones brothers were present. What differentiated this occasion from the previous ones was that she was dressed casually, with her hair pulled back in a loose bun, giving clear signs that she had spent the day—and the night— there. Elsa already knew of their plan in advance, of course, but Emma did not miss the look of appreciation that she directed at her.

Although Emma tried to extend her stay in Killian's apartment, on Sunday evening she resigned herself to returning to her own apartment. She needed a change of clothes and rest a whole night to go back to work the next day. Even so, when Killian accompanied her to the doorway, she still remained reluctant to leave. Killian was not going to make things easy for her, apparently.

"Are you sure you have to leave? Can I tempt you again with breakfast or something more special?" He practically purred his words, his warm breath caressing her lips.

Her resolve weakened at times, but she held her ground. "I have to rest, and something tells me that if I stayed I wouldn't get the rest I need. My boyfriend is quite insatiable, you know?"

Killian tilted his head, his eyes darting to her lips. "It's funny, because my girlfriend is also quite insatiable. I think they would like each other, wouldn't they?"

Emma hummed in agreement. "Maybe you're right."

"Anyway, I think that boyfriend of yours is a lucky guy." Emma lost herself for a moment in the intensity of his gaze charged with something akin to reverence. After letting out a deep breath, she brushed his lips with her own and walked away before falling into temptation.

"I am the lucky one, believe me." It was the last thing she said before turning and starting to walk down the corridor.

 "Text me when you get home, please."

Emma turned her head slightly towards him and nodded silently. When she resumed her way she did it with a wide smile on her face and a sense of happiness spreading through her body.

//

I just got home.

Good;) By the way, how am I supposed to sleep now? Your vanilla perfume is everywhere, Swan.

Change the sheets?

Over my dead body!

How dramatic...

But you like it.

Maybe...

Sweet dreams.

I'm sure yours —if you get to sleep—will be sweet, indeed, sprinkled with a little bit of vanilla.

You're a bloody siren.

But you like it.

I do.

Even though the screen had gone blank, Emma stared at the phone for a few seconds, feeling the weight of the device on her hands. She sometimes had to shake her head at the feeling that this little device, or rather its predecessor, the one she had lost, had been the cause of her finding Killian. A sense of vertigo seized her as she thought what would have happened had she not lost the phone, had she not entered that cafe, and stolen Killian's phone by accident... Her life now would continue to be the miserable life she was used to. Instead, now she had a promising future ahead of her, something unthinkable until now.

Her brows furrowed when another thought, also related to the phone, crossed her mind. Even though it had been two weeks since he had retrieved his phone, he hadn't made any intention of using it again. He never carried it with him and wasn't in sight in his apartment either.

It was something strange in a way, since that phone had been the cause of bringing them together in the first place and was also quite more expensive than the one he had acquired at the airport. Her heart tightened in her chest as she wondered what would be the reason, sensing that there was a deep meaning behind it. Emma had the suspicion that the motive was not in the device itself, but rather in its content.

Before going to sleep, she took a mental note, she would ask Killian when she had the chance. He had helped her on so many levels to come out of her shell that the least she could do was help him to move on and overcome his past once and for all.

//

So, there was one more part planned initially for this chapter, but I then thought that, since it has been a fluffy one, that final angsty section wouldn't fit here, so I decided to leave it for the next chapter...

Thanks for reading, I'd like to know what you all think. :)

@rouhn @couldnthandleit @teamhook @malec4everr @ijustwantyoucaskett-always@kmomof4 @resident-of-storybrooke @suwya

[trash-by-trash]

The Puppet Master (Ch. 2)

A/N: This is fic is based on @lowkey-logicality​ ‘s beautiful drawing for the reverse big bang, hosted by @sanderssidesfanfiction​ .

Word Count: 2022

Ships/Pairings: None

Warnings: Deceit mention, cursing, sleeping drugs

Previous Chapter

Roman felt goosebumps on his arms and a chill go down his spine. That voice...he recognized it, but at the same time, he didn’t know who it was. He wanted to open his eyes, but even though they were closed, they still burned. He didn’t even want to think of the pain that would happen if he opened them. Blindly, Roman tried to walk around the room- was this even a room? He wasn’t sure what it was, but he’d try to get out of it if it was the last thing he did.

“Who the fuck are you and what the fuck do you want?” He shouted, hearing his voice bounce off the walls, echoing in his ears. The other laughed cynically, the sounds of their voice coming from all directions. That’s why Roman wasn’t prepared when he felt someone shove him to the floor. He felt the cold sensation of the floor, groaning as pain struck through his face. A stabbing pain crept up his back, the sensation of something poking him in the back, pushing into his skin.

“You don’t know me, but I know you, Prince Roman, and we, you and I, will have a lot of fun.” The voice answered, pushing the stick deeper into Roman, causing him to scream. Everything started to feel dizzy, his head was pounding, his heart was racing, and he didn’t know what to do. Mind feeling foggy, he once more did not notice that a hand dropped to his shoulder, fingers wrapped around a syringe filled with a strange, murky liquid. The only warning he got was a sting at his neck before the sleepiness started clouding his thoughts, threatening to shove him into the unconscious. Roman wanted to scream, he wanted to shout, he wanted to throw a fit, but the numbing feeling in his arms had spread throughout his body, and he didn’t want anything anymore. Just sleep. He just really...wanted...to rest…

“Go on, Roman. Rest. You have a long day ahead of you.”

Virgil picked up a popcorn piece, throwing it in his mouth as the characters on screen got in their gondola, rowing themselves over into the middle of the lake. The lanterns lit up and floated into the sky, the wonder flowing in the princess’ eyes. Virgil smiled as the song started playing, sweet, slow, and melodious. He had to admit, Tangled was one of his favorite princess movies. The humor, the story, the characters, it all played and formed so well into a beautiful animated movie. Not that he would admit to anyone, of course. Ranting about how beautiful and awe-inspiring things were was Patton and Roman’s thing. He started singing along with the song under his breath, distracted by the captivating scene in front of him. Virgil swayed to the song, suddenly feeling someone lean against his arm. Grinning, he played with their hair, feeling happiness welling up inside him as Patton sang the lyrics, yawning in between every stanza.

“You tired, Pat?” Virgil stage-whispered, closing his eyes shut gently. He felt Patton shaking his head against his arm, and yawning right after. Virgil almost laughed at the irony. Patton could really be such a child sometimes. “You sure about that?” He asked, almost in a sing-song voice.

“Ye-es ma’am,” Patton murmured into Virgil’s sleeve, leaning closer into him. He huffed, ruffling his hair, lacing his fingers in with the curls. “There is no sleepiness in this here ol’ body…” He yawned again, proving himself wrong. Virgil sighed, letting Patton slowly fall asleep. The movie was still playing, so he decided to hell with it and to just finish watching it. Besides, it was only around 8:30, way earlier than he usually fell asleep. 

The scene played off, Rapunzel sat on the bed of her room, dejected, wishing that it hadn’t turned out that way. Virgil could relate. She looked around her bedroom walls, the paintings of years of her life before her, confused until she holds up the flag she had gotten earlier. The symbol of the sun on her flag reminded her of how much her life had changed in simply one day. One day of her living her life the way she wanted...well, kind of. Leaving the tower had felt like jumping into a lake; you aren’t used to the sensation, but you soon don’t want to leave. The flag, to her, represented more than simply a kingdom. Now that she thought about it, there was also something else familiar with the flag...that's when everything clicked. Her mind caught on fire, linking one dot with the other to realize that she was the missing princess. That is only further enforced by her mother's hesitance when she asks. The scene goes on into an action-packed display of her romantic interest escaping prison to find her.

Out of all the scenes, it's Virgil's favorite. He could only remember what it felt like to be out of his room for the first time. Scary. New. Weird. Different. How it felt to meet the other sides, and when they all accepted him. It took a lot, but now he never wants to leave it. Of course, he hoped he wouldn’t almost lose it like Rapunzel did. Now that he thought about it, Roman really liked this scene, too. The dork was a huge Disney fan, though, so that wasn’t surprising.

Virgil pulled out his phone at the thought of his best friend, deciding to send a quick picture of the movie to him. ‘Guess what we’re watching, loser.’ The thought of the text that he sent quickly vanished as he scrolled through his dozens of notifications he checked once every full moon. A few minutes turned to a few hours, and soon enough, Virgil was in the middle of rewatching The Office bloopers for who knows how many times. By the time he realized how long it had been, it was long past midnight.

“Shoot.” He muttered under his breath, putting his phone away. He nudged Patton’s shoulder, trying to wake him up. Except all the other did was hug Virgil tighter, shifting his position to lay on top of him. Virgil was trapped, like when a dog falls asleep on your leg, but he decided that he’d get more sleep on the couch with Patton, anyway. He closed his eyes shut, focusing Patton’s warmth beside him. It took a while, but soon enough, drowsiness took over and he fell asleep.

He woke up the next morning to the sound of Patton falling off the couch.

“Whatthefuckhappenednow.” Virgil yelped, frightened from being awoken so suddenly. His eyes drifted to see Patton on the floor, confused and drowsy. “You good?” He asked, to which Patton answered nodding, running his hands through his hair to get it out of his face.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. What time is it?” Virgil looked down in the direction of the alarm clock underneath the television set up there specifically for this reason.

“It’s nine.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” Patton liked to wake up earlier than them on Fridays to make them all breakfast. He’d usually wake up to the smell of something on the borderline of ‘too sweet.’ Still, they all appreciated his sugary concoctions. Heck, Virgil had a sweet tooth, so he definitely wasn’t arguing.

“I should start making breakfast,” Patton said, stretching before pushing himself off the ground using the couch as his help. Virgil rolled his eyes.

“Patton, you don’t always have to make us breakfast,” He responded to the non-question. “It's okay if you take some Friday’s off.”

This only cause Patton to become even more upset, seemingly, as he pouted and said, “But I like making you guys breakfast. And it's a Filpping Fantastic Fun Friday.” He crossed his arms, pouting down at Virgil from his position standing up. To them, there was no such thing as “flipping” anymore every since Virgil messed up in a text once and “filpping” became Patton’s favorite word. Virgil shrugged.

“If you choose to, then okay, but I’m just saying.” Patton looked to the side before walking to the kitchen.

“Can you call Logan and Roman, please, Virgil?” Virgil nodded, pulling his phone out of his hoodie pocket and shooting a text to the group chat telling the “bitches” to wake up. He immediately received a text from Logan saying that he’d be downstairs in a moment. The nerd must’ve been up since early hours or didn’t sleep period. He did it most days, but the only reason Virgil let him is because they technically weren’t even real. Of course, that doesn’t mean he didn’t get his scoldings. Virgil waited for a few minutes before sending Roman another text, noticing he didn’t even see his text from the night before. That was...weird. Virgil ignored the pause he felt in his chest. There was nothing to worry about, he just didn’t answer his text, don’t be stupid, Virgil. Still, there was this...uneasiness in his chest that he couldn’t settle down.

Virgil decided he probably just fell asleep and lost his phone in his clusterfuck of a room. He sighed, getting up off the couch and climbing slowly (he was tired) up the stairs. Logan rushed past him on his way down the hall, who barely even muttered a ‘salutations’ as he walked by. Virgil was right, he stayed up. He shook his head, knocking on the dramatic one’s door. One day he’s going to die from that. He waited for a moment, but there was no answer. The same sense of uneasiness striking through him. “He’s fine, Virgil, shut up,” He muttered to himself. Checking his phone again to see if Roman sent him a text, he knocked on the door, trying the handle, even if he knew it would be…

It was unlocked.

Virgil felt his heart stop. He pushed the door open, not believing his eyes. Before him was a grey stone path, right in between a huge forest that Roman had made a few summers ago, except the trees were not lively and full of leaves and color as Virgil had gotten to know and love. They were dead, falling apart, each branch curling in on itself, getting tangled up with the rest. The sky was dark, but it looked more like it was night than if there was a storm, because it was clear, the moon visible and bright. Shocked, he slammed the door shut, almost tripping over himself on his way down the stairs. He had to tell the others, he had to tell the others.

Virgil ran over to the kitchen, breathing fast and hard, already shaking. Logan and Patton seemingly were having a conversation, taking out ingredients and materials to make pancakes, when they turned at the sound of Virgil running in, stammering their names. Logan walked up to Virgil, placing a hand on his shoulder affirmingly. “Virgil? Is something the matter?” Patton stood at Virgil’s other side, a look of concern over his face.

“R-Roman...his room...he’s...Roman’s gone.”

Patton’s eyes widened, gawking at Virgil as if he had three heads. “What, wait, what mean Roman’s gone?”

“He’s gone, Pat, his room is some creepy ass forest and he’s not there and no freaking wonder he never saw my text.” Virgil breathed, tears trailing down his face.

“Perhaps this is just a practical joke that Roman is playing, he does like to do that-”

“This isn’t something he would joke about, and you know it.”

Uncertainty filled Logan’s mind as he paced out of the kitchen and up the stairs, the others trailing not far behind. He twisted the handle to Roman’s room, pulling the door open. Both Patton and Logan’s eyes filled with a mixture of shock and fear as they were met face to face with the situation. “W-well, Virgil, it appears you are right,” Logan said, hesitant, the fear clear in his eyes.

“What are we going to do?” Patton whispered, eyes filling up with tears. Virgil threw his arm over his shoulder, pulling him closer, trying to get some sort of grip on reality.

“We’re gonna fucking find him.”

General Tag List:

@icantbeme71097 @retro-remix@sanderssideblog@countessmissyshort@onenightjoanly@hissesssss @acrazia@thisrandomperson102 @desolate-darlin

@musikasworld

[hillburn42-blog]

21 modern poems that make swoon-worthy wedding readings

Litany By Billy Collins print from Graphic Display

Finding the right wedding readings for your ceremony can be a bear if you don't know where to look. This is especially so if you're diverting from traditional and/or religious readings and want something more modern, secular, funny, or all of the above. I wanted to see what was cooking in modern poetry to see if there were some new poems that would make amazing wedding readings that we hadn't seen before. Spoiler alert: there were! Some are secular, some are funny, some are a little older, but all are lovely options that may just be the one that pulls at your heartstrings.

Here are some poignant and modern wedding readings from poetry to snag for your ceremony.

Hit up our full archive of ceremony readings for even more inspiration!

You are the bread and the knife, the crystal goblet and the wine. You are the dew on the morning grass and the burning wheel of the sun. You are the white apron of the baker, and the marsh birds suddenly in flight.

However, you are not the wind in the orchard, the plums on the counter, or the house of cards. And you are certainly not the pine-scented air. There is just no way that you are the pine-scented air.

It is possible that you are the fish under the bridge, maybe even the pigeon on the general's head, but you are not even close to being the field of cornflowers at dusk.

And a quick look in the mirror will show that you are neither the boots in the corner nor the boat asleep in its boathouse.

It might interest you to know, speaking of the plentiful imagery of the world, that I am the sound of rain on the roof.

I also happen to be the shooting star, the evening paper blowing down an alley and the basket of chestnuts on the kitchen table.

I am also the moon in the trees and the blind woman's tea cup. But don't worry, I'm not the bread and the knife. You are still the bread and the knife. You will always be the bread and the knife, not to mention the crystal goblet and — somehow — the wine.

Love means to learn to look at yourself The way one looks at distant things For you are only one thing among many. And whoever sees that way heals his heart, Without knowing it, from various ills A bird and a tree say to him: Friend. Then he wants to use himself and things So that they stand in the glow of ripeness. It doesnt matter whether he knows what he serves: Who serves best doesnt always understand.

Do not think I am not grateful for your small kindness to me.

I like small kindnesses.

In fact I actually prefer them to the more substantial kindness, that is always eyeing you,

like a large animal on a rug, until your whole life reduces

to nothing but waking up morning after morning cramped, and the bright sun shining on its tusks.

I lie here thinking of you:—

the stain of love is upon the world! Yellow, yellow, yellow it eats into the leaves, smears with saffron the horned branches that lean heavily against a smooth purple sky! There is no light only a honey-thick stain that drips from leaf to leaf and limb to limb spoiling the colors of the whole world—

you far off there under the wine-red selvage of the west!

Don't lock me in wedlock, I want marriage, an encounter—

I told you about the green light of May

(a veil of quiet befallen the downtown park, late

Saturday after noon, long shadows and cool

air, scent of new grass, fresh leaves,

blossom on the threshold of abundance—

and the birds I met there, birds of passage breaking their journey, three birds each of a different species:

the azalea-breasted with round poll, dark, the brindled, merry, mousegliding one, and the smallest, golden as gorse and wearing a black Venetian mask

and with them the three douce hen-birds feathered in tender, lively brown—

I stood a half-hour under the enchantment, no-one passed near, the birds saw me and

let me be near them.)

It's not irrelevant: I would be met

and meet you so, in a green

airy space, not locked in.

"Having a Coke with You" by Frank O'Hara

is even more fun than going to San Sebastian, Irún, Hendaye, Biarritz, Bayonne or being sick to my stomach on the Travesera de Gracia in Barcelona partly because in your orange shirt you look like a better happier St. Sebastian partly because of my love for you, partly because of your love for yoghurt partly because of the fluoresent orange tulips around the birches partly because of the secrecy our smiles take on before people and statuary it is hard to believe when I'm with you that there can be anything as still as solemn as unpleasantly definitive as statuary when right in front of it in the warm New York 4 o'clock light we are drifting back and forth between each other like a tree breathing through its spectacles

and the portrait show seems to have no faces in it at all, just paint you suddenly wonder why in the world anyone ever did them

I look at you and I would rather look at you than all the portraits in the world except possibly for the Polish Rider occasionally and anyway it's in the Frick which thank heavens you haven't gone to yet so we can go together the first time and the fact that you move so beautifully more or less takes care of Futurism just as at home I never think of the Nude Descending a Staircase or at a rehearsal a single drawing of Leonardo or Michelangelo that used to wow me and what good does all the research of the Impressionists do them when they never got the right person to stand near the tree when the sun sank or for that matter Marino Marini when he didn't pick the rider as carefully as the horse it seems they were all cheated of some marvellous experience which is not going to go wasted on me which is why I am telling you about it

Margaret Atwood poem 'Habitation' in hand-written calligraphy from Paint And Words

Marriage is not a house, or even a tent

It is before that, and colder:

the edge of the forest, the edge of the desert the unpainted stairs at the back, where we squat outdoors, eating popcorn where painfully and with wonder at having survived this far

we are learning to make fire.

"Why Marriage?" by Mari Nichols-Haining

Because to the depths of me, I long to love one person, With all my heart, my soul, my mind, my body…

Because I need a forever friend to trust with the intimacies of me, Who won’t hold them against me, Who loves me when I’m unlikable, Who sees the small child in me, and Who looks for the divine potential of me…

Because I need to cuddle in the warmth of the night With someone who thanks God for me, With someone I feel blessed to hold…

Because marriage means opportunity To grow in love in friendship…

Because marriage is a discipline To be added to a list of achievements…

Because marriages do not fail, people fail When they enter into marriage Expecting another to make them whole…

Because, knowing this, I promise myself to take full responsibility For my spiritual, mental and physical wholeness I create me, I take half of the responsibility for my marriage Together we create our marriage…

Because with this understanding The possibilities are limitless.

Here on an autumn night in the sweet orchard smell, Sitting in a pile of leaves under the starry sky, Oh what stories we could tell With this starlight to tell them by.

October night, and you, and paradise, So lovely and so full of grace, Above your head, the universe has hung its lights, And I reach out my hand to touch your face.

I believe in impulse, in all that is green, Believe in the foolish vision that comes true, Believe that all that is essential is unseen, And for this lifetime I believe in you.

All of the lovers and the love they made: Nothing that was between them was a mistake. All that we did for love's sake, Is not wasted and will never fade.

All who have loved shall be forever young And walk in grandeur on a cool fall night Along the avenue, They live in every song that is ever sung, In every painting of pure light, In every pas de deux.

Oh love that shines in every star And love reflected in the silver moon. It is not here, but it's not far. Not yet, but it will be here soon.

Today, like every other day, we wake up empty and frightened. Don't open the door to the study and begin reading. Take down a musical instrument. Let the beauty we love be what we do. There are hundreds of ways to kneel and kiss the ground.

The breeze at dawn has secrets to tell you. Don't go back to sleep. You must ask for what you really want. Don't go back to sleep. People are going back and forth across the doorsill where the two worlds touch. The door is round and open. Don't go back to sleep.

I would love to kiss you. The price of kissing is your life. Now my loving is running toward my life shouting, What a bargain, let's buy it.

Daylight, full of small dancing particles and the one great turning, our souls are dancing with you, without feet, they dance. Can you see them when I whisper in your ear?

All day and night, music, a quiet, bright reedsong. If it fades, we fade.

If you want to marry me, here's what you'll have to do: You must learn how to make a perfect chicken-dumpling stew. And you must sew my holey socks, And soothe my troubled mind, And develop the knack for scratching my back, And keep my shoes spotlessly shined. And while I rest you must rake up the leaves, And when it is hailing and snowing You must shovel the walk…and be still when I talk, And — hey — where are you going?

You are your own forerunner, and the towers you have builded are but the foundation of your giant-self. And that self too shall be a foundation.

And I too am my own forerunner, for the long shadow stretching before me at sunrise shall gather under my feet at the noon hour. Yet another sunrise shall lay another shadow before me, and that also shall be gathered at another noon.

Always have we been our own forerunners, and always shall we be. And all that we have gathered and shall gather shall be but seeds for fields yet unploughed. We are the fields and the ploughmen, the gatherers and the gathered.

When you were a wandering desire in the mist, I too was there, a wandering desire. Then we sought one another, and out of our eagerness dreams were born. And dreams were time limitless, and dreams were space without measure.

And when you were a silent word upon life's quivering lips, I too was there, another silent word. Then life uttered us and we came down the years throbbing with memories of yesterday and with longing for tomorrow, for yesterday was death conquered and tomorrow was birth pursued.

And now we are in God's hands. You are a sun in His right hand and I an earth in His left hand. Yet you are not more, shining, than I, shone upon.

And we, sun and earth, are but the beginning of a greater sun and a greater earth. And always shall we be the beginning.

You are your own forerunner, you the stranger passing by the gate of my garden. And I too am my own forerunner, though I sit in the shadows of my trees and seem motionless.

You do not have to be good. You do not have to walk on your knees for a hundred miles through the desert repenting. You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves. Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine. Meanwhile the world goes on. Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain are moving across the landscapes, over the prairies and the deep trees, the mountains and the rivers. Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air, are heading home again. Whoever you are, no matter how lonely, the world offers itself to your imagination, calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting — over and over announcing your place in the family of things.

From time to time our love is like a sail and when the sail begins to alternate from tack to tack, it’s like a swallowtail and when the swallow flies it’s like a coat; and if the coat is yours, it has a tear like a wide mouth and when the mouth begins to draw the wind, it’s like a trumpeter and when the trumpet blows, it blows like millions…. and this, my love, when millions come and go beyond the need of us, is like a trick; and when the trick begins, it’s like a toe tip-toeing on a rope, which is like luck; and when the luck begins, it’s like a wedding, which is like love, which is like everything.

"Today" from Nine Horses by Billy Collins

If ever there were a spring day so perfect, so uplifted by a warm intermittent breeze

that it made you want to throw open all the windows in the house

and unlatch the door to the canary’s cage, indeed, rip the little door from its jamb,

a day when the cool brick paths and the garden bursting with peonies

seemed so etched in sunlight that you felt like taking

a hammer to the glass paperweight on the living room end table,

releasing the inhabitants from their snow-covered cottage

so they could walk out, holding hands and squinting

into this larger dome of blue and white, well, today is just that kind of day.

Pablo Neruda Quote from Monday Moon Design

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off. I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers; thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance, risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride; so I love you because I know no other way

than this: Where “I” does not exist, nor “You”, so close that your hand on my chest is my hand, so close that when I fall asleep it is your eyes that close.

"somewhere I have never travelled" by e.e. cummings

somewhere I have never travelled, gladly beyond any experience, your eyes have their silence: in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me, or which I cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look easily will unclose me though I have closed myself as fingers, you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens (touching skillfully, mysteriously) her first rose

or if your wish be to close me, I and my life will shut very beautifully, suddenly, as when the heart of this flower imagines the snow carefully everywhere descending;

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals the power of your intense fragility: whose texture compels me with the color of its countries, rendering death and forever with each breathing

(I do not know what it is about you that closes and opens; only something in me understands the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses) nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands

Maya Angelou Poem print from Minimaland

"Touched by an Angel" by Maya Angelou

We, unaccustomed to courage exiles from delight live coiled in shells of loneliness until love leaves its high holy temple and comes into our sight to liberate us into life.

Love arrives and in its train come ecstasies old memories of pleasure ancient histories of pain. Yet if we are bold, love strikes away the chains of fear from our souls.

We are weaned from our timidity In the flush of love’s light we dare be brave And suddenly we see that love costs all we are and will ever be. Yet it is only love which sets us free.

let me be your vacuum cleaner breathing in your dust let me be your ford cortina I will never rust if you like your coffee hot let me be your coffee pot you call the shots I wanna be yours

let me be your raincoat for those frequent rainy days let me be your dreamboat when you wanna sail away let me be your teddy bear take me with you anywhere I don’t care I wanna be yours

let me be your electric meter I will not run out let me be the electric heater you get cold without let me be your setting lotion hold your hair with deep devotion deep as the deep atlantic ocean thats how deep is my emotion deep deep deep deep deep deep I don’t wanna be hers I wanna be yours

"In Love Made Visible" by May Swenson

In love we are made visible As in a magic bath are unpeeled to the sharp pit so long concealed

With love’s alertness we recognize the soundless whimper of the soul behind the eyes A shaft opens and the timid thing at last leaps to surface with full-spread wing

The fingertips of lover discover more than the body’s smoothness They uncover a hidden conduit for the transfusion of empathies that circumvent the mind’s intrusion

In love are we set free Objective bone and flesh no longer insulate us to ourselves alone We are released and flow into each other’s cup Our two frail vials pierced drink each other up.

Roy Croft print by Betty And Marie Designs

I love you, Not only for what you are But for what I am When I am with you.

I love you, Not only for what You have made of yourself But for what You are making of me.

I love you, For the part of me That you bring out; I love you, For putting your hand Into my heaped-up heart And passing over All the foolish, weak things That you can’t help Dimly seeing there, And for drawing out Into the light All the beautiful belongings That no one else had looked Quite far enough to find.

I love you because you Are helping me to make of the lumber of my life Not a tavern But a temple; Out of works Of my every day Not a reproach But a song.

Source: https://offbeatbride.com/modern-wedding-readings/