#emma whump aftermath

[snowbellewells]

Self Promo Sunday: “Got My Angel Now”

This week’s re-run is another that I’ve always been pretty fond of (What can I say? I’m a sucker for the hurt/comfort and emotional angst and healing that could easily have fit into canon, but which the show didn’t always take time for) I initially wrote it after 5x03 “Siege Perilous”, and though some of the events were quickly made canon divergent as the Camelot arc went on, I don’t think it’s so far off as to be ruined for enjoyment’s sake. The title comes from a line in “Halo” by Beyonce, and the lyrics included in the scene breaks are from Christina Perri. (Neither of them, nor our lovely Pirate and Princess duo are mine. I just like to give them quiet moments ;p )

Summary: A post-5x03 one shot where the Storybrooke gang learn of Arthur's treachery much sooner, and in much more painful fashion. (Some whump aftermath and definite CS hurt/comfort involved)

Also available on AO3 and ff.net, if either of those are your preference...

By: @snowbellewells 

They should never have trusted Arthur so blindly. Have they learned nothing yet after meeting so many heroes and monsters of myth and legend and finding them the opposite of how they are painted in the tales of old? Oh, aye, the royal had been stealthy – welcoming them to Camelot, throwing a grand ball in their honor, knighting David as a brother-in-arms and seating him in the very Siege Perilous once held by Lancelot himself – but it had made them let down their guard…and now Emma was paying the price.

Standing surrounded in the tower room Regina and Belle use as they research and experiment trying to find a way to communicate with and free Merlin, Arthur’s treachery suddenly comes into sharp focus for all of them. An entire phalanx of Camelot knights – Dave’s supposed comrades – surround Killian, Henry, David, Robin, and Belle (unfortunately Regina is not present to wipe them all out with a wrathful fireball) with swords at their chests or throats, circled closely enough that breaking free or moving to help the last member of their party is impossible.

Arthur himself stands facing Emma, his blade drawn and pointed just above her heart, poised to pierce her chest and make that precious, priceless organ spill its lifeblood and go still. Killian feels himself practically vibrating both with rage at the betrayal and his fear for her; not to mention the bitter anger he can feel radiating off of the prince beside him. He reaches out a hand to clutch Henry’s forearm, feeling the boy nearly jerk forward to his mother’s aid. He doesn’t think these men would hurt one so young, but he is no longer certain.

“Now Dark One,” Arthur spits, his voice harsh with controlled venom, “you and I are going to the tree. Your magic and the mushroom your noble father so kindly procured for me,” here he slants a gaze at Charming, “will show me what to do to free Merlin and to trap you instead, where you rightly belong.”

Killian knows Emma now possesses enough magic in her little finger alone to blow all these men away, but she holds back, as afraid as any of them that magic use will only continue to give the darkness more footholds in her psyche. She slants her eyes from boldly staring Arthur down to seek his. He wants to tell her to fight, to disappear - escape - and he wishes to know what he can do to comfort her, but the words and the knowledge elude him. Instead, his only ease is found in knowing that Emma’s dagger is nowhere near here – not where Arthur can lay hands on it and control his love. Though he does not know where Snow and Lancelot have taken it for safekeeping, it is at least beyond this broken monarch’s reach.

There is nothing to do but watch as Arthur has two more knights bind Emma’s hands and force her none-too-gently from the room behind him, the rest of the guard linger menacingly, to be sure none of them can follow or try to help her until they are well away.

It matters not; he will catch up, no matter where they take her. Emma must only hold on, keep her faith…

I believe in the lost possibilities you can’t see

and I believe that the darkness reminds us where light can be;

I know that your heart is still beating, beating, Darling,

I believe that you fell just so you could land next to me.

So hold on, hold on…

Though naught but a quarter of an hour passes before the rest of Arthur’s men withdraw from them, it is well into the evening before Killian finds Emma in a moonlit clearing of the dense forest which encircles the kingdom. Their group had split up in the hopes of someone reaching Swan that much faster, once word spread of Arthur’s failing to trap the Dark One and how she had used her powers to vanish from his grasp in the courtyard. Killian still does not know what had been done to her before that, but he can only be glad she has outsmarted their treacherous adversary and saved herself. He practically deflates with relief at the sight of her before him, appearing hale and in one piece. He cannot be anything but glad that it is he who will have a moment alone with his love. It does not matter that it has not even been a whole day, his relief upon seeing Emma again is almost too great to bear. The vision of her before him across the clearing is like the first breath of fresh spring air to his weary soul after too long locked away in suffocating winter. The last few hours he has been struggling for breath, consciously forcing his heart not to skip beats in agony and worry for her and what she might be suffering. His joy is great enough to override caution, and he doesn’t take in the raw, unhinged look in her wild eyes, nor the way she fairly vibrates with some unknown strain or injury.

The air around Emma pulses with electricity, and she throws out a hand to ward him off – pulling Killian up short when he feels the force pressing him back. Drawing in a steadying breath and hesitating to truly study her expression of confusion and anxiety, he realizes with a sharp pang in his chest that he is not sure whether she is merely trying to protect him while out of control, or if she truly doesn’t know him in this moment.

Those mesmerizing green eyes which never fail to capture him in their depths, flit nervously from his face, to his hand and hook, to her own trembling fingers outstretched between them, to the trees that surround them, and back again nervously – clearly unsettled and pained. Their emerald depths have never appeared so dark before, as if the forces fighting within to color her very mind and spirit are attempting to spread into even the smallest details of her being. His Swan literally shakes, even as she attempts to hold herself steady, staring at him across the open space. “What are you doing here?!?” she demands, looking shaken and angry, but at the same time as if she wants nothing more than to close the gap, fall into his supporting arms, and hold on for dear life. “I brought myself here for a reason, Killian! I barely got away from them, and I had to use my powers to do it. I can’t risk something like that happening again. I’m too dangerous to be near anyone until I find Merlin – and not when Arthur is waiting. Not until I get rid of this, this…thing inside me. I feel it swirling and clawing… even when it isn’t speaking to me in Rumplestiltskin’s voice, it’s trying to break free. So…y-you can’t be here! I w-won’t hurt you…” Her lower lip trembles, but she looks so firm in her decision and determined to suffer alone in her misery that his heart constricts, breaking a bit more at the sight of her anguish.

He cannot bear to see her hurting this way, to hear the agony in her voice; the yearning loneliness made plain beneath her warning to him makes him continue to inch closer, regardless of the threat Emma thinks she poses. He had known the wretched feeling of hopeless despair she is feeling all too well himself – for years – until she came along and brought more to his life than revenge, brought back the man of honor he once was. He takes another hesitant step forward, cautiously reaching out for her with a gentle hand and equally coaxing voice. “Easy now, Love,” he practically croons. “We can be careful…but you should not – and will not – have to do this alone.”

“Please stop!” she cries out, shooting another regretful look of longing at him.

Killian shakes his head, unwilling to let her go on like this, sure that he can help her, soothe her, and ease her pain if he can only reach her. He watches as Emma continues to tremble, but she remains still, allowing him to approach, even if she does so fearfully. Finally, the very tips of his fingers graze her cloak, then his whole hand rests on her upper arm, gripping gently as if unsure that she won’t still flee.

Just as she did in that circle of stones when their whole party first arrived in Camelot, Emma expels a terribly ragged breath and deflates, falling into him and clutching his shoulders as desperately as he clings to her. Killian breathes again, having barely realized he was holding it, and smooths a hand through her hair. He is not at all deterred by Emma’s moment of weakness, her nearly unhinged power, nor her fear. He is only glad she has finally reached for him in time of need. He will not give her up; he will find a way to help her, show her he will never fear her – whatever betide – and he will not fail to fight for her against any threat or foe. Watching her battle the Darkness within allows him to see, not her faltering, but even more of her strength. His admiration for her has only grown. No one else could understand the allure of the dark and the valor needed to claw away from it as he can.

‘Cause I have been where you are before

and I have felt the pain of losing who you are,

I have died so many times, but I am still alive

So hold on, hold on….

Tenderly, reverently, Killian’s hand travels on – down from the silken waves of her golden hair to trace Emma’s shoulders, then her back, pressing just enough to draw her closer, only to release her quickly when she cries out in pain at even the slight weight of his hands on her back. She tries to swallow her reaction in the next instant – hide it away – but she cannot conceal the wince that escapes as she curls in on herself protectively, nor can he fail to see the stiff way she holds her shoulders now that he is looking for it.

His calloused fingers come to cup her strong chin, tilting Emma’s face to meet his gaze, so she cannot avoid his eyes. “Where are you hurt, Swan?” he murmurs lowly, voice rough with concern. His words might be soft, but they are taut with worry and anger that these brigands would dare to lay a rough hand on his princess. “What did they do to you?”

Emma shakes her head, pulling away from his cautious grip and biting down on her lower lip in that way she has when trying to avoid baring herself to him, especially if the knowledge he seeks might be painful. “It’s nothing, Killian. Don’t worry over it. I…I could have healed it already…if I weren’t worried about using my magic.”

Impatiently, he shakes his own head once, frustrated at her stubbornness and unconcern for her own well-being. “It is not nothing, Emma. Of that I am quite sure.” His words are clipped with the force of his emotion, accent more pronounced, and Emma feels a shiver skitter down her spine that is as much from attraction as foreboding over what he will do when he sees her injuries. Carefully, but firmly, Killian places both hand and hook on her shoulders and turns her around to face away from him.

For a moment, Emma clutches her cloak about her, trying to keep this revelation from his eyes in one last desperate effort, but when pain lances through her shoulders and she cannot bite back the whimper that escapes her, she knows it is a losing battle. Slumping forward, she releases a sigh and ceases to fight against his gentle determination.

“There now, Lass,” her pirate coaxes in that warm burr of his. His hand and hook barely skim over her form as he unclasps and pulls the cloak away. “Let us see, hmm? Everything will be…” However, his voice chokes and trails off before he can finish his gentle reassurance. A strangled noise in his throat and the sudden heavy tension in the air around them tells her without doubt that once the cloak was off her shoulders, the wide neckline and low back of her dress leave the stinging marks on her flesh exposed plainly to his eyes.

Neither of them move for several long, silent moments, and Emma presses her trembling lips together tightly, trying desperately not to let the tears that are welling in her eyes fall. She hisses when the cool metal of his hook gingerly traces the brand burned into her right shoulder, serving to mark her as a witch, and the scattered whip weals she bore rather than admit anything about where her dagger was hidden, further endangering Merlin and the rest of them. The lash marks pulse hotly along with the beat of her heart and the blood rushing through her veins. Somehow, though, the tender care in his touch soothes her a bit, and she relaxes, almost sinking to her knees in relief and exhaustion as he continues. Her eyes slip closed, and she nearly feels safe again until he whispers in a broken voice. “Oh, Love, how could they do this to you? …I am so very sorry, Emma.”

Her tears do fall silently then, and she turns back to him, wordlessly trailing her fingers across his face, up over his cheekbones, wiping his matching tears away. Shushing Killian even as his shoulders shake with silent emotion, Emma leans against his chest and tries for the first time in what feels like ages to let down her guard and catch her breath at the safety she finds in his arms.

Eventually, Killian pulls back slightly, brushing a loose tendril of her mussed hair off her forehead and resting his hand along the side of her face softly. He shifts to take her hand in his and then leads her to the banks of the small river running placidly behind them. Urging Emma wordlessly to sit on a large rock at the water’s edge, he pulls a clean black scarf from inside his long coat, bends to wet it in the cool water, then comes back to crouch behind her. Clearing his throat in a nervous way that warms her heart, Killian asks gently. “Not to be indelicate, Swan, but can you shrug out of your frock for a moment? Hold it up in the front if you wish, but I need to see your whole back if I am to clean your wounds properly.”

Emma dips her head, blushing fiercely, and does as he asks, sucking in a sharp, pained breath once more as she eases the material from her shoulders and the movement stretches the torn skin of her back. Finally, she wraps her arms tightly around her torso, holding the front of the dress up and bracing herself. Hissing as the damp cloth first makes contact with the bloody stripes sliced into her pale hide, she tries not to flinch or wince and make Killian’s task more difficult; however, she can feel Killian’s hesitance and guilt at hurting her more, even in order to help, regardless of how she tries to hold her reactions in.

Slowly, the water begins to cool the enflamed agony, and she eases a fraction, feeling a bit like his ministrations are healing her as well as any magic could. The feel of his fingers ghosting over her back and down her arm as he finishes and tells her she can pull her gown back into place remind her vividly of another time so long ago, when he used another of his scarves to bind a wound to her hand, seemingly reading her mind as he did so and seeing the attraction she had felt for him even then simmering under her skin. His care that day atop the beanstalk had made her ache to trust him, and looking back now, it nearly floors her to realize just how completely she does trust him – so much so that she would place her very life in his hands without question.

Emma feels the warm exhalation of her pirate’s breath on her neck mere seconds before he lightly rests his forehead there, seemingly needing to hold her as he draws in a shaky breath. They are silent for some time; the running water, bird calls, and scuffling of wild creatures in the brush are the only sounds around them. Finally, he eases away and speaks once more, circling to face her as he does so. “Emma, I know you do not want to put yourself at more risk – nor do you want to be forced to use your magic again to defend yourself, or any of us – but you must return with me. We can find some place for you to stay where Arthur and his sorry excuses for ‘gallant’ knights will never know of your return. You must have some salve or medicine and better treatment than I can offer for those cuts, and especially the burn. I fear it could become infected. Regina will be near enough to guard you with her magic this time, and we will not be taken unawares again. I certainly will not be making the mistake of trusting anyone else in Camelot.”

She wants to argue with him, to be strong enough to stay out here alone and in hiding, but she cannot make herself form the words. In fact, she knows with painful certainty that she cannot bear to have Killian out of her sight right now. Weakened and vulnerable, she needs his comfort and his strength, needs someone with some faith and hope that all which has gone wrong can still work out right. Not only will she worry for his safety and the rash action he might take to right the vicious wrongs done to her, but she yearns for his care just now; his steadfast love the strongest thing keeping the darkness at bay, even as her situation grows more dire.

I believe that tomorrow is stronger than yesterday, 

and I believe that your head is the only thing in your way.

I wish that you could see your scars turn into beauty.

I believe that today it’s okay to be not okay…

Hold on, hold on…

This is not the end of me, this is the beginning

Hold on…

Later that night, as moonlight filters into the isolated old hunting lodge that Killian and Henry have somehow located in a far-flung corner of the castle grounds, deserted and dusty from long disuse, Emma wakes from a light doze, still uneasy enough not to sleep deeply, despite her wear and strain. Sitting up stiffly, her eyes search the room, seeking her guardian knight, even as his name escapes her lips worriedly. “Killian?” she asks, a soft, plaintive note in the single whispered word.

He stands quickly from where his lithe form had been curled up on a settee near the window keeping watch, himself bathed in dark shadows and moon glow as he steals across the room to sit on the edge of the bed at her side. “I’m here, Love. Are you in pain? Regina is just outside, I can summon her…”

Emma merely shakes her head, reaching her hand out from under the layers of warm blankets she remembers him tucking around her a couple hours before. Looking up into his fathomless blue, blue eyes, she closes her fingers around his hook, hanging on for dear life. “No, it’s not that,” she assures him, gazing up into his face, drinking in every perfect, adoring feature as he stares back at her. “I just wanted to make sure that you didn’t disappear, that you were still with me…” She trails off, looking sheepish but also honest. They might be more than she would usually say, but she cannot make herself take the words back.

He traces his hand across her forehead soothingly, then lets his fingers tangle gently in her hair, pulling her up to press the softest of kisses to her lips. “Don’t worry, Darling,” he murmurs, his caress easing her pounding heart. “It took me centuries to find you. I won’t be letting go of my saving grace now. We will put an end to this darkness and treachery. Our love story is only beginning.”

And with those words Emma is able to fall back into a healing, dreamless sleep.

Tagging a few who might enjoy: @jennjenn615 @searchingwardrobes @kmomof4 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @laschatzi @jrob64 @apiratewhopines @spartanguard @tiganasummertree @optomisticgirl  @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @therooksshiningknight @cosette141 @sotangledupinit @bdevereaux @stahlop @kday426 @gingerchangeling @gingerpolyglot @winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious​ @killian-whump​  @artistic-writer @cocohook38 @motherkatereloyshipper @thislassishooked @elizabeethan @the-darkdragonfly @donteattheappleshook @xsajx @justanother-unluckysoul​ @drowned-dreamer​ @anmylica​ @iverna​ @kazoosandfannypacks @booksteaandtoomuchtv @scientificapricot @tomeandflickcorner @lfh1226-linda

#self promo sunday #ouat canon divergent one shot #cs post-5x03 one shot ff #got my angel now #cs hurt comfort #emma whump aftermath

[writingwithsnails]

The Snail's Febuwhump 2024 Masterlist

This is a work in progress, links will be updated as things are posted! And yes, I started late and I'm totally behind. We're speed-running it.

Some of these pieces are Far Cry 5 or Orphan Black fanfics but most of the pieces are related to my original WIPs. They're a mix of genres from depressing nordic noir to light-hearted 1940s spy capers. It's something the whole family can enjoy!

Please note that since the primary genre is whump, there's going to be injuries, blood, death, dying, and more. When you click the link, you'll see a summary and note with any warnings.

day 01. helpless | original | nordic noir Manda wants to end things with Jesper in order to pursue a different relationship but a forgotten acquaintance is hellbent on revenge.

day 02. solitary confinement | web-weaving Web-weaving of quotes related to violence, power, and being alone.

day 03. alt 2 - "i love you." | original | modern britain Haywood does something less-than-legal and ends up in the hospital.

day 04. obedience | far cry 5 | deputy x john seed John cleans the Deputy's wounds.

day 05. rope burns | far cry 5 | deputy x jacob seed Jacob keeps Deputy Jemima Knight in check with a bit of rope.

day 06. "you lied to me." coming soon.

day 07. suffering in silence | original | nordic noir Two weeks after the shooting that injured Manda and killed her lover, she attends his funeral.

day 08. "why won't it stop?" | web-weaving Web-weaving of quotes related to time, being, trauma, and memory.

day 09. BEES! | original | 1940s mystery Bertie and Edward take a look at a mansion on the Riviera when they're ambushed...by bees.

day 10. killing in self-defense coming soon.

day 11. alt 3 - found footage | far cry 5 | deputy j. knight coming soon.

day 12. semi-conscious | far cry 5 | john seed John recovers after being bitten by Boomer.

day 13. "you weren't supposed to get hurt." | orphan black | marion & charlotte bowles Marion's attempt at damage control ends in disaster.

day 14. blood-stained tiles | far cry 5 | deputy a. hurst After the Confession, the Deputy struggles with returning to the world of the living.

day 15. "who did this to you?" | original | 1940s mystery A stakeout goes awry and Edward has to phone a friend for help.

day 16. alt 7 - last words | original | nordic noir In the aftermath of a brutal murder, Manda can’t keep her mind off the man’s last words.

day 17. hostage situation | original | modern britain coming soon.

day 18. too weak to move | far cry 5 | deputy j. knight Jem wakes up in the Whitetails and it’s a good news/bad news situation.

day 19. "please don't." | original | colonial new york During the Conspiracy of 1741, a young actress writes her final letter to her lover before leaving the British colonies for good.

day 20. truth serum | playlist coming soon.

day 21. unresponsive coming soon.

day 22. "you weren't meant to be there." | original | 1940s mystery Edward’s future brother-in-law is in the wrong place, at the wrong time, and he has to bail him out.

day 23. presumed dead | original | thriller Emma's sister has been missing for months and reappears in a hospital miles away.

day 24. "i'm doing this because i care about you." | far cry 5 | john & deputy (nb) John enjoys the Atonement process.

day 25. alt 09 - lightning strike | playlist It all starts with a lightning strike...

day 26. "help them." | far cry 5 | john & original John and Sibylla argue about saving the others.

day 27. left for dead | orphan black | charlotte bowles Charlotte works through her feelings on Susan's miraculous recovery.

day 28. "no... not like this." | far cry 5 | deputy & jacob Jem recovers from an allergic reaction to the Bliss and makes a startling confession to Jacob.

day 29. not allowed to die | far cry 5 | deputy & joey In John's Bunker, Deputy Hurst finds Joey on the brink of death.

THANK YOU FOR CHECKING THIS OUT!

#febuwhump2024 #the snail speaks. #*snailwriting

[justplainwhump]

Playground

For @whumpawoman Angstpril; prompts are Whumper-Run-In, Panic Attack, and maybe even Revenge.

This arc is a collaboration with @for-the-love-of-nsfwhump​ , Damiel is hers and in this universe, they’re married to Ira. Also - this is a piece of writing I’m very proud of, and I hope that you like it.

Content: whump aftermath, trauma, panic attack, referenced captivity, referenced lady whump, referenced death/murder of a loved one.

Emma is pulling at Isaac's hand, and he almost has to jog to keep up with her short legs. "Your uncle is an old man, Emmy," he says, half joking. He's not old, but he can't walk fast. Not since he's had a bullet lodged in his hip, in the night that cost him everything. 

"But I can see the playground already! Can I go? Please?" 

He can see it, too. A big wooden pirate ship, some swings, a handful of other adults and kids wrapped into warm clothes on this sunny day in late fall. It's just some meters, he tells himself. It's safe. Still, it takes him some seconds to force his fingers to open and let his niece's gloved hand slip out of his, as she races off. There's something to the way she runs. Despite the childish joy to her movements, the somewhat clumsy way she sets her feet, he still thinks of Sophie. Sophie, who can't be here, who has never met her niece, and whose laugh he misses every single day. The last thing he's seen her do was run. Run by his side, to safety, to freedom. It had been so close. They could've been together. They should be.

They aren't. He's alone.

On the playground, Emma has reached the pirate ship and is already climbing up, gloves dropped on the ground, hands and booted feet steady on the small climbing grips. Sophie and him have always wanted kids. They'd talked about it often enough, before they went to bed. Two, at least, one boy and one girl, maybe. He wonders, if they'd ended up with the light brown curls Emma shares with him, or maybe more of the straight black hair from Sophie's side. 

He'll never know.

There's another kid going up the wooden wall next to Emma now, a black girl her age with a cloud of curls around her and purple earmuffs. He's still out of earshot, but he sees them talking, racing each other to the captain's stand on top. The other girl's parent is standing close, arms folded, attentive. They're tall, at least six feet, lean and muscular, and something about them makes Isaac's stomach clench. They look like them. Like the figure from his nightmares, the one he sees in every crowd, the reason why he can't ride the subway or go to crowded pubs, or do anything outside. Like the tall, lean monster, the one who took Sophie away from him, when he'd ran away with her, when she'd finally seen him, and believed him, and she'd looked at him and told him she loved him. The monster has hunted them down without remorse, they've grabbed her and hurt her and dragged her away. Isaac still remembers her screams, her panic, her fear, and the cold, brutal efficiency of the hunter.

His steps have slowed involuntarily. Usually, he'd just turn around and leave. The park is big, he can go somewhere else, somewhere he doesn't have to be around his memories, but his with Emmy, and the tall figure is right next to her. 

It's not them, he thinks. It's not them, they are far away, they are somewhere in the woods hunting their next victim, they aren't the folk to hang around on playgrounds, they wouldn't care about Emma. 

His shirt is soaked with cold sweat, as he forces himself to step closer. "Emmy," he calls. His voice is trembling, broken almost. "Emmy, baby, come here, we're leaving."

She doesn't hear him, or pretends not to, as she jumps onto the slide down.

The tall one has heard him, though, head snapped back, taking in the whole situation, the playground, the other parents, and Isaac, frozen in place. Long braids are falling from underneath their woolen hat, eyes narrowed, lips pressed together into a thin line. 

It's them. It's not their shadow, not a memory from the past, it's them, the hunter, it's the one who shattered everything Isaac had ever dreamt of to pieces in a single night.

"No," Isaac whispers tonelessly. "No, no, no." He wants to step back, but his legs are rubber, there's the edge of the sandbox behind him, and he falls, to his knees, shivering, panting. His hands claw into the sand, like they did into the forest ground six years ago, but he can't feel, there's nothing, only emptiness. 

"Sir," they call, and he thinks he remembers their voice. They've called someone else Sir that night, too, in a voice rougher than today, but he recognizes it anyway. "Are you okay?"

He's not. He's not, he will never be, he can't ever be okay, and it's because of them, and they don't even seem to know. He stares at them blankly from where he's kneeling on the ground, at them and the white-haired young woman suddenly by their side. He wants to warn her, to warn Emmy, anyone, but his voice has left him, and he's helpless to watch. The woman is holding a toddler, and she hands him off, to them, and Isaac's vision narrows, gets black around the edges. He can't breathe. He hears them talk, French, he thinks, and that it's odd that he can still find a coherent thought, and then a soft hand is laying on his arm and the woman is talking to him. "Breathe, Sir, breathe with me, alright?" Her voice is quiet and smooth, and he wonders if he's actually breathing, maybe he's not, maybe he's just dying, maybe that wouldn't be so bad. 

"In through the nose," the woman says, and he feels her hand gently pressing his to give him a rhythm. "Out through the mouth."

Shakily, he nods, follows her lead. He doesn't look up, just stares at their hands, hers over his, in the dirty sand of the sandbox. In through the nose. Her hand is small, a little red because of the cold, and there are some scars, crisscrossing lines in her tan skin. Out through the mouth. Her nails are clipped short, a little dirt underneath them, and her fingers are calloused, as if she works a lot with her hands. In through the nose. There's a broad black band tattooed around her wrist, and he sees some colorful patterns emerge over it, vanishing under her sleeve. Out through-

"Cherie," the hunter says.

His breath hitches. His eyes are glued to the wedding band. 

"Pas maintenant," she mumbles. 

Isaac sees their feet show up in his vision, clad in bright yellow winter boots. They were wearing boots back then, too, but those were black. Do they know who he is? Do they know, what they did to him? He doesn't dare looking up.

"Tu lui fais peur," she says. "J'arrive. Cinq minutes, Dami?"

Dami.

Dami. Damiel.

Isaac gags. He remembers the name. He always will. It's them. The person who just steps back. The person with the purple woolen hat and the bright winter jacket, a happy parent on a playground, a protective spouse. 

A beautiful wife. Two kids. A boy and a girl.

They retreat, while their wife goes on counting, and Isaac nods. In and out. Yes. He's breathing. His heart rate is slowing down, his vision is starting to clear. 

Damiel.

Damiel, the monster, who took the world from Isaac, gained everything Isaac himself lost forever.

"Are you better?", the woman asks. 

Isaac looks up, into her dark eyes, clouded with worry. She's not as pretty as Sophie was, but there's something to her. Something that made Damiel love her. To choose her, as mother to their kids, to build a family with.

There have been moments, many of them, in sleepless nights, when Isaac thought about revenge. About what he'd do, should he ever encounter the monster again. Death couldn't be enough. Torture couldn't be enough. Hollow and empty, nothing compared to what they did to him.

He knows, now.

"Yeah," he whispers, and allows her to help him back to his feet. "Yes, thank you. I will be."

#wawangstpril #whump #lady whump #nonbinary whumper #panic attack #whumper run in #revenge #damiel cartier #ira cartier #isaac reese

[aceofwhump]

Do you know of any good amputation whump fics?

I know I’m missing some and it’s killing me that I can’t remember them and I’ll probably remember as soon as I post this but here are some of my fav fics with amputation. If I think of any other ones I’ll reblog and add them :)

Tony Stark

Irreplaceable by aliaoftwoworlds

Summary: Leaving a man stuck in a dead suit in Siberia had some lasting consequences, ones that could get his teammates in a little bit of trouble—or a lot. Three different scenarios in which the reinstated Avengers find out about Tony’s injuries.

Evan Buckley

There’s a Dog in Your Heart (It Tells You to Tear Everything Apart) by adhdbuck

Summary: Ask buck what he remembers about that night and he tells you he wouldn’t be able to tell you. He’ll tell you he was in too much pain to register anything, his brain stored all the memories away into a neat little box. That’s not the truth. (Buck's leg is damaged beyond repair, the doctors have to amputate. This is the aftermath.)

a sweating, unexploded mine buried deep in his mind by GaiaMax

Summary: A traumatic event can be defined as an event that poses a threat of serious injury or even death to the self or others, bringing with it feelings of profound fear, powerlessness and terror. So just because you left the event, doesn’t mean the event is going to leave you. Because of The Event, Buck lost a leg and so much more, leaving Eddie unable to get away from the after effect of having to make the decision of taking Buck’s leg and the mother of his child dying.

phantom pains by transbuck

Summary: If there's one thing Buck's learned since losing his leg, it's that phantom pains are a bitch.

Leonard Snart

A Hand of Metal and Wheels by areyouarealmonster

Summary: Leonard shatters his hand trying to get free of the cuffs that Mick--Chronos--left him in. Gideon can seal the open wound, but no more than that. Leonard has to come to terms with losing his hand, and to deal with the inconvenient feelings he has for the man making him a prosthesis. Ray, however, is still with Kendra, which makes Leonard's feelings even more inconvenient and pointless. There's no easy fix for his feelings, or for learning how to use a mechanical hand. It's tough, and it's frustrating, but at least Ray Palmer keeps touching him, so he's got that going for him now.

In This Life by Jael

Summary: In one Earth, Rip didn't time-scatter the Legends--he sent the Waverider spinning through the multiverse, damaged, its crew trying to find a way home. And when that Earth's Sara and Leonard approach another Earth's Waverider, they'll find out just what a life and a destiny can turn on.

Takashi Shirogane

The Body Burns Away by Carrionflower

Summary: His arm was gone, replaced by inorganic machinery that clicked and whirred, but the physical memory of its loss remained burned into his nervous system. It translated as a haunting pain that spiked and ebbed but never fully receded, always constant like a needle digging into his brain. Shiro's coming apart at the seams and Keith is the only one that can see it happening.

He Thinks He's Alone In This by sad_ghost_kid

Summary: Sometimes Shiro hurt himself. He couldn't always control it, compulsively slashing at the metal of his prosthetic arm, scratching at the skin of what was left until his hand was covered in blood. It became a nervous habit, twitching and picking, the frequency and severity getting worse with every nightmare, every flashback. Or, a story in which Shiro struggles through his PTSD all alone, until he breaks. The others try to put him back together.

Killian Jones

Sit, Stay, Feel by: ScapeArtist

Summary: Modern AU: Emma Swan is the owner of Pet Saviors — a dog training/walking/sitting service. Killian Jones, and his dog Gale, are her clients. When Emma & Killian finally meet, the fur flies.

When The Beat Of My Drum (Meets The Beat Of Your Heart) by: threadfinjack

Summary: Just a little ficlet based on a prompt from tumblr. Pro-surfer Killian Jones loses his hand in a shark attack. During his rehabilitation, he meets physical therapy student Emma Swan. She makes it her quest to help him return to the ocean where he belongs.

The Absence of You by: SLimac

Summary: AU When Emma Swan, a young social worker, stumbled into Killian Jones's hospital room looking for her mischievous son she never thought the encounter would go farther. But she'll soon come to realize that Killian needs her more than she knows. And maybe, she might need him too.

A Scar is Worth the Pain by: ramblingkitten

Summary: Emma and Killian bond over scars... Okay summary sucks just click read i promise its better than it sounds.

Lucifer Morningstar

Faint by: chashkieh

Summary: The pain of injuries and amputation never really go away. When Lucifer cut off his wings there was likely phantom pains of a lost limb in the immediate aftermath that faded as he adjusted but occasionally rears its ugly head on a rainy or hot/humid like most injuries. One day it flares in the middle of a case and is aggravated by one of Dan's casual clap on the back.

Knives and wings don't mix, Luci. by toby_or_not_toby

Summary: Lucifer groaned again, then inched the blade further into his traitorous muscle. Nearly there, just a bit more- The demon blade hit a clump of nerves, and Lucifer's vision whited out as he screamed.

#whump #fic recs #mods fic recs #fanfics #amputation #phantom pain #ask #anon #mod post #mod replies

[ghostinthebau]

Super Fanfic Rec List -- Iron Dad Edition (because I just wanna share the love)

I’ve had such a blast reading fanfic of the IronDad and SpiderSon variety over the last 6 months or so, and I thought I’d just make a rec list of some of my favorite stories.  Most of them are angsty, with whump and hurt/comfort because that’s what I live for.  

This is in no particular order or in any way complete because there’s just way too many amazing fics/authors in the Iron Dad fandom, but it will still be hella long, so....here goes! 

First off, @yellowdistress:

What We Are series - Bio-dad Tony series that goes all the way through Infinity War.  Endgame AU.

Someday I’ll Make it Out of Here series - Adoption AU!  It’s so good.

The Missing 92 Days - A take on HYDRA Peter that destroyed me emotionally.

Reviving Peter Parker - This about killed me.  Peter actually died during his fight with Toomes and SHIELD brings him back a la the TAHITI project like they did with Phil Coulson.  

A Sailor Went to Sea - Gut-wrenching Endgame fix it.  

Double, Double

@losingmymindtonight:

Webcams and Webshooters series

I Never Lived ‘Til I Lived In Your Light series - !!! TISSUE WARNING !!! Peter dies, but there’s another one shot with a happier ending if you need it.

And You’ll Blow Us All Away - Adoption fic!  A lovely one at that.

5 Times Peter’s Mental Illness Made Him Stumble And The 1 Time He Refused To Falter - I really love a well-depicted take on mental illness, and losingmymindtonight delivered 100%.

If You Can’t Catch A Breath (You Can Take The Oxygen Straight Out Of My Own Chest)

Cyanide? In My Shawarma?

@justme--emily:

The Guardian - Adoption AU with a lovely Loki and Peter friendship!

Radioactive - Peter endures the after effects of the spider bite, and scares bio-dad Tony to death.  Lovely, lovely, lovely.

The Good Fight - Peter gets hurt at the airport in Germany instead of Rhodey.  

@iron--spider:

ever in your favor - Hunger Games AU and an epic work of art!  

Lazarus, come forth - The Endgame fix it before Endgame.  Peter will break your heart.

dear mr. fantasy

this isn’t a game - Highly underrated fic based off the PS4 Spider-Man game.  I’ve never even played the game, and I loved this story.

what if there is no tomorrow? - This story actually made me kinda like Justin Hammer, if you can believe it.  

blindness

@tempestaurora:

hydra’s not a home series - HYDRA Peter, and also bio-dad Tony and bio-mom Pepper!

i’ll find you in the drift - Pacific Rim AU, and I have never seen PR, but I adored this so much.

it’s okay, we’re okay [whumpvember 2018] series

@jolinarjackson:

Lights To Guide You Home series - Another adoption AU.  They are my weakness, and this is one of the best out there.  

... and when you can’t crawl ...

Damaged At Best (Like You’ve Already Figured Out)

@blondsak:

No Life But This

come morning light (you and I’ll be safe and sound)

Burying Grounds - Eeeek!  Tony has to choose between saving Peter or Pepper and it hurts.

hold on, hold on

Something the Soul Needs

@madasthesea:

turn back the clock (and I’ll try again in the morning)

when my body won’t hold me anymore (where will I go)

They have so many other lovely looking fics--including an adoption au series (which I, of course, love), but I just haven’t gotten around to reading them yet.  I’m pretty sure anything they write is golden.  :)

@signofuncertainty:

It’s Always the Little Things

I’m sure their other fic, The Third Option, is fantastic and I really, really wanna read it but I’m trying so hard to wait until it’s complete!  It’s really difficult to wait, though, tbh....I may give in soon.  

@upcamethesun:

Twelve Days Of Peter Parker - So cute and fluffy, and then it kills you at the end.

5 Times Peter Made Tony Laugh Out Loud

5 Times Tony Didn’t Need To Worry About Peter

5 Times Peter Pretended To Be Tougher Than He Was

@frostysunflowers:

Between how it is and how it should be - This story made me love a Peter and Bucky friendship.

@kitcat992:

Identity Theft - This was one of the very first Iron Dad fics I read, and it was a doozy.  Full of whump, medical accuracy, and hurt/comfort!  The author is posting a sequel now, too: Identity Crisis.  :D

For Pete’s Sake!

@camelot-queen:

Goner - A perfectly heartbreaking kidnapping fic, but heed the warnings!

Who Saves The Hero

Never Meet Your Heroes

i’m the satellite (and you’re the sky) - Tony is Peter’s bio-dad but Peter doesn’t know it.  I haven’t actually finished this yet, but it’s good.  So, so good.

@peter-stank:

built from scraps - YOU GUYS, this is one of the best fics I’ve read on AO3.  It’s a ‘Tony gets dusted instead of Peter’ AU, and it’s got such an amazing dynamic between Peter, Pepper, and Morgan.  It’ll also make you tear up a few times, at least.

@geekymoviemom:

Sins of the Fathers - So, I’ve only read the first 5 chapters of this epic length (303k words@) adoption AU so far, but I’m LOVING it so I wanted to add it here.  They also have an even longer bio-dad Tony with added Stony bonus series, Pieces of Echoes, that they’re posting the 3rd installment to right now.  I’ll definitely be checking it out!

@too-many-bees:

let’s kick it

like a bridge over troubled water

@jbsforever:

it’ll be over (and I’ll still be asking when)

@tnyystark:

where the memories reside

@whumphoarder:

Quieting the Void series - Peter kinda has an eating disorder due to the spider bite, so take care if you read!

Poison Apple - Loved how medically accurate this was, and Ned’s reaction to Peter’s condition was heartbreaking.

@seek-rest:

It Hurts to Become

Someday We’ll Know - This is a Walk to Remember AU, so there’s MCD.  I’ve gotten about halfway through, but I can only read it when I’m in the right mindset.  But it’s lovely and so well done.  

This author has so many fics that I’m sure are amazing, and they’re on my ‘to read’ list when I’m in the mood for beautiful Spideychelle stories.

@caraminha:

The Primary Reason Tony Stark Would Throw Down With an Anti-Vaxxer in the Street - Hella scary depiction of Peter with tetanus, and it’s SO GOOD.

@tonystarkstan:

it all comes back to this

skeletons series

to build a home series - I love recovery fics, and this was a beautiful story of Peter dealing with the aftermath of being snapped and coming back.

lay your weary head to rest

@foolscapper:

Exploding Head Syndrome - Everyone comes back when the snap is reversed, but Peter is sort of catatonic--stuck between the living world and the soul stone where he’s with Gamora.  It’s such a lovely fic.

@alice-in-ink:

It’s a Little Bit We Do

Danger Pizza

@legalassie:

oh, darling - Peter’s kidnapped and Tony frantically searches for him--one of my favorite things.  Peter uses his smarts to help him get out of the situation, too, which is also one of my favorite things.

don’t think about tomorrow. 

@blackwatchandromeda:

Broken Thoughts (I Remember Everything)

Leave Me to Dream

A Nightmare to Remember

@emma--anacortes: 

Accepting the Tides - Here I am with another adoption AU.  Can you see a pattern yet?  I love them, and this one has danger and whump and comfort as well.  

@ardenskyedarcy221b:

they are standing in the garden - This hurt.  Several times the author had me tearing up and there’s a few lines that will stay with me forever.  It was just immensely lovely to read.

@iamallyetnotatall:

At the Start of the Universe - This was so much better than I was expecting! Peter is an Angel, and he knows Tony from the very beginning of the universe. It’s different, but absolutely gorgeous.

@starktowr:

somewhere outside my life - I don’t wanna say too much, but just read this.  It’ll break you and you’ll love it.

@jessicagoddamnjones: 

too bad (but it’s the life you lead)

@silver-bubbles:

The Fire’s Out (But Still It Burns)  

@day-dreamer176:

Like A Strike of Lightning - I kinda took this as a demonic possession a la Supernatural, but I don’t think it actually was.  Either way, it was fantastic.

fifty-four

five, tops

The World Stopped

@ambivalentmarvel:

Into His Fold series - Where Thanos brings Peter back from the ashes to make him into his new son (a la Nebula and Gamora).

@notaparty-trick:

Doom and Gloom - A ‘Peter doesn’t get dusted’ AU, filled with whump and Iron Dad and an awesome Carol Danvers.  Angst!!!

Dust and Blood - Peter is hurt much worse when Toomes drops the building on him.  More angst!!!!  This author does angst very well.

@ema--vee:

You don’t have to hold your head up high - Peter can’t thermoregulate!  I love that trope.

@forensicleaf:

All the Things We’ve Lost (And All the Things We’ve Gained) - This one gutted me, and then made it better.  But there’s pain to be had before the comfort!

They just posted the first chapter of a new WIP that looks AMAZING, too: Can’t Part the Sea, Can’t Reach the Shore.

@plnkblue:

foolish, fragile spine - Peter’s severely injured in his fight with Adrian Toomes and Tony finds him.  

@helloitisiafellowgay:

god did not craft us as altars, but as dying gods - Okay, guys.  This one is heavy.  It deals with Skip coming back into Peter’s life, and it’s not pretty but it’s handled superbly.  It’s a tough read, but one I definitely recommend if you can handle it.  Take care of yourselves first and foremost, though.  <3

~ ~ ~ I’m not sure if the following authors have a tumblr, so I just linked their AO3 pages ~ ~ ~

eccentric_artist_221b:

Only for a Little While - This is a Titanic AU, and it’s AMAZING.  There’s several scenes that just took my breath away and brought me to tears (not an easy feat). They’re also working on a WWI sequel!!!!

tiaylasglass:

the one who made it out - Short, simple in a gorgeous way, and poignant.  

And finally, I thought I’d humbly add my own little contribution to the fandom.  So far, I’ve only written the one fic, but I hope to write more in the future!

@ghostinthebau:

For Want of a Dad (in need of a son) - There’s a bit of blood, and a very distraught Tony at one point, so warning for angst and injury!

Again, this list is probably severely lacking, and if someone has a rec that’s not on here please please please reblog this and let me know!  I’m always in the mood for more fics.  

And I hope anyone reading this finds something they enjoy!  

I’m sure you will.  

ilu 3,000

:)

#fanfic rec list #irondad #spiderson #tony stark #peter parker #mcu #fan fiction #recs #iron man #spider-man #avengers #iron dad #spider son #angst #hurt/comfort #fluff #father and son #if you have a favorite fic not listed let me know what it is! #i love this fandom #ilu 3000

[natsora]

Year In Review - 2019

Tagged by @dafan7711 Thank you!!

Tagging anyone who wants to share. It is on short notice to tag anyone I think. xD

Published

It’s quite a number of stories I’ve published this year. 21 stories, 343K words. 

The Replacement - a fReyder fic, featuring @artsyblacksheep‘s Kate Ryder. 

Returning Ghosts - Written this as part of Reverse MEBB trial run, featuring @seokanori‘s Sara Ryder. 

Inner Demons - Written also as part of Reverse MEBB trial run, featuring @naeviss Athena Ryder

Drinking Woes -  Another fReyder fic that was spawned from brainstorming sessions and Berto is born. 

Trouble Boredom Brings - A gift fic written for @wickedwitchofthewilds featuring her Emma Ryder. 

The Herald’s Handler - My first Cass/Trev story where I gave in and used a Bad Things Happen prompt to launch myself head first into OTP land. 

Demons Within and Without - A fRydaal story that has a very very bad ending, You’re amply warned as you read this. Filled 3 Bad Things Happen prompts with this single fic. 

Crazy Ex-Girlfriend - Another fReyder / Berto fic, one of my favourites written this year, all because this one is funny. At least I think so...

The Fart Bomb Incident - Again fReyder / Berto, a Bad Things Happen prompt fill. 

One Wrong Move - Riley Shepard’s first fic written during ME1 timeline. It’s whumpy AF since it’s a Bad Things Happen prompt fill. 

Promise - A Cass/Trev fic, this one came in a dream and it refuses to leave me alone until I’ve written it down. And suddenly I have a post-Trespasser idea. 

Enough - Another Cass/Trev fic, follows from The Herald’s Handler, deals with the aftermath of Trev’s return from the dark future. 

Pictures On The Wall - My first AU fic written as part of Reverse MEBB proper, featuring Shepard and Ryder in a zombie end of the world kind of world. I really liked the story I wrote. Though I must say not many people seem to like it. 

To Be Somebody - fReyder / Berto fic, deals with the little party of Sloane’s.

A Bitter Anniversary - fReyder and gift fic for @obvidalous‘ birthday, featuring her Sara Ryder. 

Splintered Minds - 18 out of 39 chapters published. This is one of the darker long fic I wrote. I really enjoyed putting flesh to the bones of this story that’s the brainchild of @seokanori. 

The Persephone Arc - 18 out of 34 chapters published. The promised prequel for Sara Ryder. Set in the time between ME1 and ME2, follows Ryder’s journey from being in the Alliance to the launch to Andromeda.

In You I Found A Rhyme - fRydaal fic, written as a gift fic for the Secret Santa gift exchange for MEFFW. One of the last things I’ve written for 2019. 

Never Walk Alone - A Cass/Trev fic that deals with the fall of Haven. So much angst, so much whump!

The Lost Childhood - A Femshep origin story, traces the person before Shepard becomes Shepard. 

Red on Green - The last fic published this year. Set in the Femshep origin story timeline, deals with how Shepard got her red hair. 

Written

Well, based on my best gauge, my word processor tells me I’ve written 605k this year. This includes all the remaining Bad Things Happen prompts that are written that awaits publishing and/or editing. All three of my long fics namely, The Persephone Arc, The Lost Childhood, Splintered Minds are all written and mostly edited. All they also need is actual publishing. 

Future

I have 6 more Bad Things Happen prompts to fill. After that I intend to get to work on my illegal fighting AU, featuring Shepard and Ryder. It’s going to be angsty, it’s going to be whumpy. But hey, it’s me. What do you expect? Beyond these is working on the sequel to Cetus Arc. I hope I’ve not lose everyone who were following Cetus. There is also the ME1 fic I want to get started on for Shepard. There will also be more Cass/Trev, more Berto rest assured. 

Conclusion

This year has been a resounding success in terms of sheer output, both publishing and writing. It can’t happen without my partner in crime @seokanori who has been doing weekly, can you believe it? WEEKLY covers, for all three of my long fics. I can’t have been luckier to have a collaborator as awesome as she is. Check out her Tumblr, website and Patreon. 

Also @ainzaphir she took on beta-ing duties for Splintered Minds and the story is tighter already thanks to her efforts. Thank you! Check out her writing at her AO3 and Tumblr. 

And I cannot forget all the supportive friends, mutuals and readers. @rpgwarrior4824 @obvidalous @lylypuceonarchive @wickedwitchofthewilds @mistressnoriko @cassandra-pentughasst @jt-boi-n7 @barbex @inquartata30 @aban-asaara @suchanadorer @n0rmandysr1 @cdrkateshepard @lucyrne @hollyand-writes​ @mhandersmyheart​ and so many more people I’m sure I’m missing out here. 

Thank you, thank you, thank you. Here’s hoping for an awesome new decade for all of us. Have a great year ahead! 

#Year in Review #2019

[artistic-writer]

Love Finds a Way : CS Jurassic World AU : Ch 7

Title: Love Finds a Way by @artistic-writer

Summary: Emma Swan is the Head of Operations for David Nolan’s exotic adventure park, Jurassic World.  She has a son, Henry, and is loved and respected by her colleagues. Her life was perfect until a new dinosaur the park created, Indominus Rex, decided to escape.  Oh, and her one night stand, Killian Jones - he’s there to help contain the asset. Just to complicate things even more.  Jurassic World AU.

Rating: M (for people getting eaten)

Also on: AO3 - FF

A/N: Alright, Ch 7 and we are right in with the action from Ch 6, so you might want to give that a quick read first.  Been a time, and I am sorry.  I’ve managed to get a few more than 1 WIP posting, because i suck, but i’m not neglecting any of them, i promise.  This chapter has some mutual pining, which I...I kinda liked writing. Shut up, @darkcolinodonorgasm​ and is dedicated to the lovely @kmomof4​ who needs a little love right now.  And thank you to @resident-of-storybrooke​ for your eyes <3

Taglist: @hollyethecurious​ @kmomof4​ @resident-of-storybrooke​ @cocohook38​ @sherlockianwhovian​ @wordsmith-storyweaver​@winterbaby89​ @kymbersmith-90​  @killianmesmalls​ @killian-whump​ @nonnyj @jennjenn615​   @thislassishooked @searchingwardrobes​ @doodlelolly0910​ @cs-forlife​ @darkcolinodonorgasm​ @mariakov81​ @xemmaloveskillianx​

Please show your appreciation for my writing and artwork by buying me a Ko-fi.  If you are unable to do that, then please enjoy it and show your appreciation with a reblog. Or leave me a comment, i’m a sucker for that.  Any feedback welcome :D

——————————————————————————————

The Indominus raced through the forest, crashing through the ancient trees like they were toothpicks. Each one snapped under her weight, bending unnaturally this way and that, trees almost as old as the island ripped from existence in the blink of an eye. She roared, the sound one of anger as she tilted her head back and peered up into the sky, clawed hands clenching in front of her with glee at the sight of a helicopter hot on her tail.

“Target at ten o’clock!”

The sound whirr of the mini gun was lost over the sound on the chopper, blades slicing through the air with a melodic thumping sound. The operator slid in his seat, closer to the edge of the helicopter and grabbed hold on the two handles that operated the mini gun. It was heavy and when he pulled on the two handles on either side of the mount, the gun was lifted into place against the drag of the wind, ready to aim at the target currently charging through the forest below.

The Indominus let out another ear piercing screech, the muscles in her throat vibrating as she roared. The earth beneath her feet sunk away in the slightly damp forest floor that had been hidden from the soil scorching sun for decades. Ferns and other shade dwelling flora was no match for her weight, flattened in a second and torn apart by her clawed feet as she pushed off the ground and propelled herself forward with her huge, muscular legs in an effort to evade her pursuers.

The first bullet out of the gun followed the high pitched mechanism as the drum full of bullets began to rotate and each of the barrels began expelling its ammunition. The whole gun shook, vibrating through the man holding on for dear life, the swivel mount absorbing the rest in an effort to keep the helicopter steady. Bullets rained down on the forest, narrowingly missing the dinosaur they were chasing, the ground behind the escaping Indominus thrown up into the air with each impact.

“Hit the damn thing!” The pilot called out over the onboard intercom, fingers white from how hard he was gripping the flight stick.

The gunman pulled back as hard as he could, thumbs pressed into the triggers, bullets flying around wildly as he repositioned the gun a little higher. The tip of the barrels exploded with flashes of orange with every combustion behind the projectiles within, the drop from each bullet just missing the huge beast they were meant to kill. He ground his jaw in frustration, growling over the mic intercom in rage at how the bullets kept missing her, narrowly skimming the hocks of the huge, bipedal dinosaur.

“She’s too fast!” He cried out in frustration, the sound of the chopper blades punching through the air above his head barely audible back in the communications room. “Get in front of her!”

“No, no, no, no, no!” Ruby chanted, her head bouncing between the red dot on one screen and the camera feed of one of the crew on another.

“What?” David rushed forward toward the screen. “What is it?”

Mary Margaret sucked in a breath at the screen and David followed her line of sight. “She’s going for the helicopter.” The camera was grainy but it was clear enough to see the Indominus grind to a stop and crane her neck to look at the helicopter chasing her. She was watching it double back on itself, inevitably lowering its altitude as it did, the pilot unaware, but the camera on the gunman’s helmet catching the predatory look in the dinosaur’s eye.

“She can’t reach it, can she?” David asked quickly, tearing his eyes from the camera long enough to see the shock in Mary Margaret’s eyes.

“You should know,” Walsh’s voice echoed from the shadows. “You gave that whole dinosaur the green light. Didn’t you double check what the quack was putting into his test tubes?”

David ground his teeth and his fingers dug into the back of Mary Margaret’s chair. “I thought you’d left,” David spat, not taking his eyes off the scene playing out in front of him.

“And miss this?” Walsh sneered, peering over his shoulder. “It’s just getting good.”

“Ruby, warn them!” David instructed hastily, nudging his head towards the giant screen above them.

David had barely finished his command and Ruby was dragging her headset up from around her neck, repositioning it over her ear. She pulled herself forward, the wheels of her chair just narrowly missing Walsh’s feet, before almost screaming into the mic.

“ACU team 2, this is central control! You need to alter your altitude!” Ruby’s heart pounded in her chest, her eyes flicking to the screen where the Indominus even looked like she was contemplating the exact angle of attack.

“Control, this is ACU airborne, can you repeat? Over.”

“Oh, God,” Mary Margaret gasped. “They didn’t hear you.”

“Uh oh,” Walsh taunted with a whistle.

“Dammit,” David grunted, the hairs on his arms standing on end. He grabbed Mary Margaret’s headset off of her desk, gripping the mic stem between his shaking fingers and lifted it to his mouth. She didn’t even realise it but Mary Margaret had grabbed his arm, hooking her fingers into the crook on his elbow and was holding him so tightly to stop the shake in her own hands. “ACU Airborne, pull up! Pull up!”

David’s warning came too late, the echoing roar of the Indominus growing louder before it was followed by the crunching on metal and the backwards whirr of rotor blades under stress where the huge dinosaur had leapt into the air and bit clean through the tail section of the helicopter. The control room filled with the sound of screaming, the high pitched yelling and panic that flowed from the surround sound speakers indistinguishable from man or woman as many of them turning into pained gurgling. There was a scrambling, the mics muffled by each team member as they clambered for brace positions under their leaders instructions, those that hadn’t been crushed in the initial attack audibly puking in the wake of their comrades in pieces.

Mary Margaret gulped down a lump in her throat, her eyes paralyzed and unable to blink away the imagined demise of each team member as their vitals flatlined on the screen in front of her. Her fingers were digging into David’s arm so hard he was sure she would leave a mark, but he let her, almost one hundred percent sure he hadn’t heard her breathe for a few minutes. After what seemed like an age, he slipped out of her grip and wrapped his arm around her, pulling her to him and cupping his hand over her ear, trying his hardest to shield her from the horrific sounds.

“Mayday! Mayday!”

“We’re going down!”

“Help us! Lord, help us!”

The sound of yelling and the crunching of metal was drowned out by another screech from the dinosaur, the last images from the Captain’s body cam turning black inside of the Indominus' mouth when she clamped her jaws shut around the man. Tiny pinpricks of light danced across the image on the control room wall, spinning like bubbles in a washing machine as she chomped a few times, crushing the life out of the man who had once been sitting in the cockpit she had just ripped off mid flight.

A silence fell over the control room, static the only sound that everyone could hear coming from the two way communication. David relinquished his hold on Mary Magaret for a split second to turn off the radio comms with the now downed helicopter, a soft sniffle drawing his attention. Ruby had been crying and in the panic, as he looked around in the aftermath, it wasn’t just her. There wasn’t a dry eye in the entire room, employees consoling each other as if a hug would make everything that had just seen go away.

“Mr Nolan,” Ruby croaked with a watery voice.

“I know,” David assured her, stopping her from saying the words that she had to officially say. The rules be damned. David knew everyone was dead and he wasn’t about to make her say it.

“Well, looks like this thing really is unstoppable.” Walsh’s words were not even the least bit perturbed by the sounds he had heard or the images he had seen. The man had the gall to cross his arms over his chest and smile with glee, but that was soon laid to waste when, out of nowhere, David’s fist connected with his jaw, and the weasel of a man stumbled backwards.

“David!” Mary Magaret screeched, jumping to her feet so fast her chair toppled over when Nolan went in for a second strike, his clenched fist breaking Walsh’s nose with an audible crack.

“Son of a-,” Walsh cried, clutching his nose that was busy pouring with deep crimson blood.

“Those were good people!” David roared, looming over his hunched figure, Mary Margaret attempting to halt a third attack by hanging off his arm.

“We’re all good people!” Walsh shouted back, righting himself and squaring up to David and spitting blood onto the fabric of his shirt. “We all do things with the best of intentions, don’t we?” He cocked his head to the side, a blood stained grin accompanying his implication.

“This isn’t your fault,” Ruby offered to David with a snarl in Walsh’s direction.

“This isn’t your fault! This isn’t your fault!” Walsh parroted with a cocky grin. “God, aren’t you sick of your cheerleaders yet, Prince Charming?”

“I know what you’re trying to do,” David told the miserable man. “And I already told you once. The only way you’re going to set live raptors loose on this island is over my dead body.” David clenched his jaw at Walsh’s cocky smirk, his hand balling painfully at his side where he was sure he had split at least one knuckles because of the sting there.

“That won’t be entirely necessary,” Walsh announced, straightening up and running his tongue over the ridges of his blood soaked teeth. “You see,” he announced, sucking in a breath and closing the gap between him and David even more until their chests touched. “They say there is strength in numbers, which is good for you, because these two ragtag little groupies you’ve got going on here-,”

“Hey!” Ruby protested, matching Mary Margaret’s scowl.

“Oh, no offence,” Walsh nodded over David’s shoulder to the security guard stationed at the door, their matching sand coloured uniforms signaling their connection as he reached for the cuffs on his belt. “It’s real cute,” he said with a pout of his bottom lip. “But you know loyalty doesn’t cost a thing.”

“What the...What are you doing?” David demanded of the guard when his arm was wrenched awkwardly behind his back.

“At least not for me,” Walsh said out loud absentmindedly. “These guys are on your payroll.”

“You won’t get away with this,” Mary Margaret growled with a pink tinge to her cheeks from anger.

“Oh, honey, sit down before you break a nail,” Walsh spat, pushing past her and sending her crashing down into her seat.

The chair rolled backwards a little under her weight and the shy slip of a woman shrunk away from her previous bravado. David struggled against the guard’s hold, only caring that the brute of a man had decided it would be a good idea to touch a woman that he cared so much about. Despite his imposing height, the security guard was much bigger than David, and his opposition to his incapacity was futile.

“You’re going to regret that,” David spat through clenched teeth, shaking his shoulders in one more protest as he was hauled into the elevator.

Walsh sniggered arrogantly, making everyone in the comms room jump when he clapped his hands together as soon as the elevator doors slid closed with a ding. “Now that unfortunate matter has been seen to, and it gives me no pleasure to announce this, but the incapacitation of our fearless leader leaves me in charge as the highest ranking In-Gen official.”

Ruby made a sound in the back of her throat that sounded like she had thrown up in her own mouth and tried to swallow it.

“And our primary objective is to prevent further loss of life.” As if on cue, the elevator doors sounded its arrival again and the doors parted to reveal at least seven new men, all armed to the teeth with equipment and all sporting the ever fetching In-Gen sand coloured shirts. When they started pushing their way into the comms room and began setting up with bulky equipment without permission, it made Ruby’s emotions turn back into anger.

“Who are these guys?” she said with a sneer.

“I’m glad you asked,” Walsh replied without missing a beat. “You are all relieved of your duties,” he announced gleefully. “There’s a new team on the ground.”

“This is insane!” Ruby argued as a man she had never seen before plopped himself into her chair and tested the swivel action as if she wasn’t there. “You can’t do this!”

“So, without further ado,” he continued, ignoring her remark of disgust. “Let’s stop wasting money and kill this thing.”

--

Henry wasn’t sure if the sweat on his brow was from the exhilaration of driving on his own for so long, or from the humidity on the island. He had been driving for a while now but somewhere along his journey, and Henry was sure at which point, he had broken his watch. The face was permanently stuck on the time it had stopped, right about when Graham had thrown him off a cliff and into a river in order to save his life. He should have taken it off but it was a gift and even at his age, Henry was sentimental.

The Jeep was a bumpy ride, the old suspension as worn as it could have possibly been for a car that had been sitting, untouched in storage for over a decade. The ground underneath the almost still new tyres was even more uneven, damp and crumbly, making the wheels spin in the darkness of the forest, and as hard as rock in the open areas. The last time Henry has exited the woodland trail he has almost been bounced clean over the cracked windshield with the change in density of the track, only staying in situ because of his tight grip on the wheel.

Out in the daylight wasn’t a picnic either. Even without his watch, Henry could tell what time of day it was because of the blistering heat above him. The Jeep had no cover anymore, half of the leather having degraded overtime and the other half flying away in strips as he has floored it through the areas he knew were occupied by the more predatory dinosaurs. The sun had only got hotter, his clothes almost totally dry except from where he had perspired under his arms and down his back, so Henry knew it wouldn’t be long before the evening started to draw in.

The paddocks of Isla Nublar were not somewhere you wanted to be after dark.

The ground under the wheels suddenly turned to a more gravel like consistency and the Jeep rocked a little until it settled onto the new road. Henry slipped sideways in his seat and nearly toppled out, but he managed to grab on just in time to see the closed gate up ahead. Two huge rusted iron gates were blocking the path, years of erosion as well as bark like twines entangled in the brittle chains holding them together.

Barely visible through the leafless bindings was a danger sign for high voltage along the fence that Henry knew no longer existed, so, with a deep breath, he slammed his foot on the accelerator until it hit the floor. The engine roared in protest but the whole vehicle lurched forward, climbing the slight incline towards the huge, steel gates. Henry gripped the wheel so hard his knuckles turned white, and pinching his eyes closed as tightly as he could, prepared for impact.

The Jeep hit the steel gates but it barely slowed, the weather worn chain giving out almost instantly and freeing the gates from its hold. Henry heard them fly open and when the Jeep continued its forward momentum, Henry peeled one eye open to see the damage. There was none to him, and none to the vehicle, just a powdery cloud of dust in his wake from where the dead foliage had been busted apart. With a quick glance over his shoulder, Henry smiled, letting out his breath and releasing the gas a little.

“Woo!” He declared, drumming his hands on the steering wheel in celebration.

He was running on adrenaline and not much else, every snapping twig or rustle of leaves setting him on high alert. He strained to listed over the sound of the engine, eyes wide and pupils dilated as he continued to drive through what seemed like a never ending paddock. Anything could be there and, in all honesty, Henry wasn’t all that excited to find out what. He pressed his foot a little harder on the gas when the Jeep met a steep incline and as it crested the hill, Henry was relieved to see the familiar compound up ahead where he knew Killian and Liam trained the raptors.

“Open the gate!” Henry shouted but his voice was lost behind the sound of the car horn as he slammed his palm into the middle of the wheel. “Open the gate!” He called out again, relieved but still scared half to death. He would feel much safer on the other side of the huge concrete wall, that was for sure. “Come on, open the gate!”

Two security staff stationed on top of the wall over the gate entrance squinted to see the vehicle as it approached. One cocked his head to the side, clearly confused, and the other simply let his jaw drop open in shock. The whole island was on lock down and no one was supposed to be anywhere except in the main compound or at their assigned posts, so they shared a quick, confused glance.

“That’s a first,” one muttered.

“Mmm,” the other hummed in agreement.

“Do you think we should-,” the first offered but was quickly interrupted by the sound of footprints pounding along the metal high rise boardwalk behind them.

“Open the gate!” Liam yelled, his words bouncing on every step he took. The two guards shared another look, gripping their guns a little tighter. “Open the gate,” Liam repeated gruffly as he reached them. “That’s Henry,” he breathed, a wave of relief washing over him at the sight of the boy. “Call Emma,” he ordered. “Tell her we’ve found him.”

--

Killian had been almost unable to move Emma from the spot when she had witnessed the ACU helicopter going down and once he had moved her to the safety of the forest, in the opposite direction to the Rex, she suddenly wasn’t much for words. He knew she felt guilty, but no matter what he had said to her in the heat of the comms room argument, he knew she wasn’t to blame for any of this. In fact, Emma couldn’t have been furthest from the blame. She was just the face of the island, there to make sure tourists were happy, and like most others, including himself, she had no idea as to what was being cooked up in paddock 11.

Emma felt like the worst person in the entire world. She was trying to simultaneously run the park and raise her son, but somewhere along the way, she had lost sight of what mattered the most. Henry meant more to her than anything, she just hadn’t shown it much. She was ambitious, and it had been kind to her, but at what cost? Now where was she? Ankle deep in the middle of a forest, hiding her tears in the humidity that was slowly washing the dirt from her face.

A hand on her shoulder shook her from her guilty daydream, and she quickly wiped at her cheeks, flicking the moisture away from her face. Killian’s hand was warm, much warmer feeling because of the sheerness of her blouse, and she couldn’t help but shiver a little. She had been fighting her feelings for him, she knew that, and whether he meant to or not, he had managed to wriggle his way back into her heart.

“He’s going to be alright,” Killian told her as he gave her shoulder a squeeze. He swung one leg over the fallen tree Emma was perched on and let the rifle he was carrying slip from his shoulder. He rested it against the gnarled bark, ignoring the way the moss that was growing on top of it was dampening his pants, and sat back with hunched shoulders and a sigh.

“I know,” Emma sniffed, wiping her blouse sleeve over her cheeks.

“Hey, look at that,” Killian smiled warmly. “You believed me for once.”

Emma coughed out a short laugh and playfully swatted his chest, and action that made Killian lean even closer to her in an attempt to extend their contact. Emma let her hand linger on his chest, right where his shirt was partly open, and Killian felt his nipples harden when she brushed over a few of the glossy black chest hairs that peeked out from the shirt there. In a split second decision that would either go in his favour or get him slapped, Killian covered her hand with his, flattening her palm over his heart that had begun a beat of rapid fire in his chest.

Killian stared at her until, slowly, Emma looked up from watching his hand on hers. The tips of his ears flushed hot with adrenaline and he felt his lungs draw in a much deeper breath than before, the slight curl of Emma’s fingertips against his chest making him gasp inaudibly. She would have felt it, no doubt about it, and he pressed her hand harder to his shirt in an attempt to feel her through closer to his skin. Emma’s eyes finally met his, her lips dry from being slightly parted, and her throat dry where she had forgotten to swallow.

“Killian,-” she began, but unlike other times she had said his name, this was different.

“I just need to know one thing,” Killian said hoarsely, his own throat suddenly parched. Like a nervous schoolboy he dipped his head and let his other hand reach around Emma’s back where it began to smooth down the fabric of her blouse, his lips turning up into a cheeky grin. “How have you been able to run in those heels?”

Emma chuckled, the vibrations from her laugh shooting up Killian’s arm and embedding the sensation in his soul. Her hand slipped from his chest and he let he take it, the feel of her fingertips already like a brand on his skin from the one night they had spent together. Killian felt her whole body relax, which was his exact intention when he has so brazenly placed his hand on her back, and it hadn’t escaped his notice that this time, she hadn’t pulled away.

“I have just evolved beyond the need for stability that flat footwear gives you,” Emma smiled. “I’d recommend heels, but,” she leaned forward and pretended to squint at the bottom half of Killian’s legs whilst sucking in a long breath through her teeth. “I just don’t think you have the calves for it.”

Killian had no witty retort, just a single, deep, reverberating laugh that escaped his open mouth as he regarded her with humour in his eyes. His tongue traced the ridges of the teeth at the side of his mouth, and he tilted his head back a little at her comment, enjoying the way she was smiling back at him for the first time all day. His eyes flicked between hers and her lips, dry skin there begging to be kissed like he was the only hydration on offer for miles. Emma was the same, his oasis in a sandstorm, her lips coaxing him closer when she bit her bottom lip playfully, but with all of the will he had left, Killian refrained from following the urges of his own body and pulled his hand from where it lay on her back too.

Emma missed the contact, even if she was reluctant to admit it, and when Killian rubbed at his jean clad thighs and cleared his throat in an attempt to regain some composure, her eyes fell to his hands and his scars there. She had seen them before, the skin ridged and twisted from primitive stitching that she had no doubt he had probably tried to do himself because of his stubbornness. As she recalled, it had no impact on the way he used his hand, but she knew that he must be embarrassed by them because of the way he had always tried to hide them around her. As if on cue, Killian finished his eager rubbing of his thighs and tried to rearrange himself so that the offending hand could be tucked into his pockets.

“Wait,” Emma said suddenly, softly, her thoughts jumping to words and leaving her mouth without coherence when she reached for his hand in an attempt to halt his hiding. “I mean,-”

“It’s alright, love,” Killian smiled, offering her his scarred hand once more when she withdrew hers. “You’re inquisitive, and that’s alright.”

“I’m sorry. It’s just,” Emma began, unable to find the words she wanted. To hide her awkwardness she tucked a strand of loose hair behind her ear and swallowed hard, cursing the humidity that had accented the red tint to her cheeks. “Which raptor did it?” She said finally, enclosing Killian’s had between both of hers and trailing her fingertips over the scars.

“What makes you think it was one of the raptors?” Killian asked her with an arched eyebrow.

“You leave your trailer for work and dating, and I haven’t heard about much of the latter lately,” she quipped.

“Ah, well, yes,” Killian agreed in his very British accent, his other hand reaching up to scratch behind his ear. “There was one that got away.” His scarred hand twisted and his fingers entwined themselves with hers, a wave of panic flooding over him when he thought she might pull away. She didn’t but was silent, unable to express herself over the huge chasm in her heart that someone had once made, one that stopped her communicating her feelings anymore. “It was Delta,” Killian said low, offering her a conversational relief. “I was stupid and, like and idiot, took my eye off the ball for a second.”

“How old was she?” Emma asked, seemingly more comfortable with the new conversation.

“Only a few weeks old,” Killian uttered, remembering the moment vividly. He had thought it a good idea to offer Delta a dead rat from the same hand he had just used to feed one of the other raptors, getting complacent and neglecting to wash his hands between feedings. The young raptors had been fed separately at first, to allow Killian to assess the best way they would integrate into a pack, but caught up in the excitement of his new job, he had forgotten protocol and gave Delta a rat from a hand that smelled of the very food he was offering. “It wasn’t her fault,” he assured her. “But it reminded me of what kind of animals we are dealing with on this island.”

Emma moved her hand towards her lap and pulled Killian’s with it. He let her, the sting of nervous sweat glands under his armpits unnoticed in the still wet patches of damp from the island’s heat. “I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you,” Emma told him whilst tracing the lines of scars on his palm. “If I had, maybe this dinosaur would be dead by now.”

Killian shook his head. “It is I who should apologise, love. I should never have yelled at you.”

“Damn right!” Emma teased, gripping his hand harder.

“You do realise you’ve agreed with me twice in the same conversation now?” Killian retorted with a smirk.

Emma just nodded, that stray strand of hair falling forward with the motion of her head once again. Killian moved his hand quicker than she could, smoothing his weathered fingers over the curve of her ears as he tucked it back into place, his thumb completing his move as it stroke her ear lobe. Again, Emma didn’t recoil at his touch and he felt the muscles of her throat swallow when he plucked a piece of tree bark from the rest of the hair behind her ear. The smile of her face was infectious and Killian mirrored it, but before either of them had a chance to say anything else, Emma’s phone rang and they startled apart.

She scrambled for the device she had tucked into her bra and Killian averted his eyes as she did so, only looking back when he heard her answer.

“Liam? What is it? What’s going on?” Emma said hurriedly, pushing herself to her feet and stalking away from the log they were sitting on.

Killian couldn’t hear what Liam was saying, but when she turned to face him, Emma’s face paled and he almost had to rush to support her when she threatened to topple in front of him. Her eyes welled up, pupils dilated so much that there was almost none of the honey green glaze left for him to see. He watched her chest heave before she thanked her friend and hung up, sniffing and wiping her eyes again just as he reached her, unable to bring himself to ask for the news he didn’t really want to hear.

“Is it Henry?” Killian pried delicately, gently holding her elbow.

All Emma could do was cover her mouth and nod, eyes pinching closed as more tears fell. Without a second thought, Killian pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly like he wished he had done that night. Words unspoken told him said she was thankful and that she needed his embrace more than she was letting on, so he just stood there in the soaking humidity of the island and held her. Emma’s hands found his biceps and she seemed to hold on there, her face buried into his chest and every breath inhaling him as she sobbed.

“He’s alive,” Emma sighed, her words muffled by Killian’s shirt.

“I told you,” Killian smiled, pressing his lips to the side of her temple and squeezing her a little tighter with his own relief. “I knew it, the lad is smart, resourceful,-” Killian began as she pulled away but Emma had other ideas when she wrapped her arms around his neck, stretched up on her toes and cut him off with a kiss.

There was no way that Killian could stop his reaction this time, not even if he had wanted to. Emma’s initiation gave him the green light, a wordless agreement from her that finally, after all this time and all of his patience, she was ready to validate his feelings. He cupped her face in his hands, her bottom lip still quivering from her emotional news, something Killian hoped he could soothe as he tilted his head and their lips slanted against each other in a whole new direction and made her moan.

Killian couldn’t stop the growl that escaped his throat when he pushed against her mouth and she pushed back, her fingers digging into the hair at the base of his neck despite its wetness and clutching hard, making him suddenly realise where they were. He had to push his feelings aside, despite his body’s reactions to the way Emma had flattened herself to him, every curve of her deliciously distracting as she writhed against him.

“Emma,” Killian mumbled against her mouth when she pulled his face back to hers when as tried to pull away. “Emma, love…”

“I’m sorry,” Emma breathed, gasping for breath. “I...I’m,-”

“I know.” Killian smiled warmly, thumbing the corner of her mouth. “Let’s get you reunited with your lad, alright?”

“You’re right,” Emma nodded, pulling herself from his arms and licking her lips. “Come on,” she told him with a pat to his chest as she breezed past him on her way back to the car they had left through the trees. “We can wait.”

Distracted by retrieving his gun, Killian hadn’t registered what she meant at first, but as soon as he did, he stood bolt upright only to watch her disappear through the broadleaved foliage. “Wait, what?”

#cs ff #cs au #cs jw au #jw au #lfaw #love finds a way #Jurassic world au #ch 7 #captain swan #mutual pining #kinda

[snowbellewells]

A few favorites of mine...

Largely due to a post made recently by one of my Tumblr friends, I got to thinking about some of my OuaT fan fiction stories which have not been as widely read or commented, but which were still dear to me - or that I was proud of - in one way or another. Some of them are older and only on ff.net (which could be part of the problem, as I think I gained more readers when I joined Tumblr).  Still, I thought I might make a post and detail what these lesser-read fics of mine were about and why they were special to me.  Maybe I would find them a few more readers.

Here goes something... ;)

The first one on this list is a Ruby-centric one shot.  Maybe because there’s not really a ship (at least not a still possible one?) even mentioned this has only ever received literally ONE comment, but I stubbornely feel I did a good job and enjoyed working on the characterization of a character I loved but don’t get as much opportunity to write for.  It’s called “Always Running”.

The second one I’m going to mention is one of my favorites of all the fan fiction stories I have written. It’s a holiday story, and I was pretty proud of how I wove elements of A Christmas Carol into the OuaT world for Emma to come to an important realization of the heart. I wrote A LOT of fic in the break between 3a and 3b, and that’s the starting and ending time frame for this one: “Ghosts of Christmases Past”

“Villain’s Happy Ending” is another one that I have always been (maybe overly?) pleased with. I am always thrilled with any new review or mention it receives, and so I am adding it on here in the hopes of it gaining more. It’s also one of the first multi chapters I wrote for “Once” and one of my earliest attempts at some whump, before I really knew what that term was. This was also written while we were waiting for 3b, so the Wicked Witch is not necessarily true to Zelena at all - we hadn’t met her yet.

My next overlooked fic is the one shot I posted for Self Promo Sunday this past week. I was late getting it up though, and almost no one saw it. Granted there’s not a romantic pairing, so maybe that’s why it has such low readership, but I have always liked the friendship and the mother-son aspects I worked on in it.  I also wrote it in a fit of missing Sheriff Graham - so there’s him in there too,  if that’s your thing. (Hunted Believer and Swan Believer, no real romantic ships involved)  It’s called “She’ll Be Back”.

“Cold as Stone”  This one is a 3-parter that I wrote when we were anticipating the Snow Queen in 4a. It doesn’t end up being much like the Ingrid/Snow Queen we got (though I enjoyed her a lot), but it does incorporate the original fairy tale’s plot in a way that I thought was very intense and affecting for Captain Swan - plus there’s some action, some good Daddy!Charming and still present Ruby as added bonuses.

This little one shot was written around Halloween and fits into 5x02/5x03 area of the show’s timeline.  I’ve just always been fond of it, though it’s a bit wistful and melancholy for sure.  It also delves a bit more into the town doing more fun, normal, everyday things instead of just constantly fighting baddies, so there’s that, if you want to check out: “Still Here in Spirit”

“Got My Angel Now” is another one shot that I have always been fond of, for whatever reason. It’s Camleot set, though it goes divergent somewhere around “Siege Perilous” (5x03).  Arthur is certainly still treacherous, but it takes a much different turn than it did in canon. There is some whump mentioned, but it’s really more the aftermath that we’re seeing - so hurt/comfort really (which is one of my many fic weaknesses!)

Oddly (for someone who doesn’t even like Halloween that much!) this is another Halloween-themed fic.  I just really had fun writing this, highlighting fun, domestic and community things Captain Swan and friends might get into left free of monsters for a stretch of time at once.  I especially enjoyed incorporating Belle, Henry and Violet into this prominently, and I’m hoping a few more folks might see it this time around: “Moonlit Ghosts”.

This next one is another MC, and it largely focuses on my favorite headcanon couple Liam and Belle.  I shouldn’t act like it has no feedback at all; there around 30 comments on it on ff.net.  But for how much work it was, I would love to have a few more folks discover it. it was a unique challenge to weave together more action, a divergent storyline from about 5x15 or 5x16, and to feature two characters that I don’t usually write (one being a person we have very little to go on).  I was really pleased with the results, so I’m hoping someone else might enjoy. @hollyethecurious made me a GORGEOUS cover/picset for it a while back, so I’m going to shamelessly use it again here to lure you into “Looking for a Heart (that’s not walking away)”...

And last but not least, I’m going to mention my alternative take on the season six finale “Quietly Breaking, Breaking the Chains”.  I was just so proud of this one, for lots of reasons, and I wonder how many people ever even saw or read it.  It (I think) puts a lot more Captain Swan and Captain Cobra back into the finale, which I think it needed.

I’ll stop there, but hopefully a few of you will like this - tagging some friends who might have missed these: @searchingwardrobes @whimsicallyenchantedrose @laschatzi @kmomof4 @hollyethecurious @spartanguard @therooksshiningknight @bmbbcs4evr @jennjenn615 @gingerchangeling @mayquita @charmingturkeysandwich @linda8084 @effulgentcolors @ilovemesomekillianjones @resident-of-storybrooke

#ouat ff #cs ff #my fics #some of my overlooked faves #self promo

[friendlylocalwhumper]

okay, i have many asks in my inbox to analyze the phonetics of y’alls characters’ names, so i’m gonna do a huge batch of them in one post here. just don’t want to flood my blog with a bunch of non-whump posts!

the names under the ‘read more’ cut are: Jack, Carla, Thane, Julian, Thyria, Lianei, Ruby, Miriam, Donna, Yuki, Nick, Martin, Dante, Emma, Anya, Ebony, and Brenna!

Heads up - analyzing these sounds depends on how I think the names are pronounced, and also depends on my accent (South Jersey, specifically) so vowels may differ based on that! Consonants will probably differ only slightly if at all. The /r/ sound is so complex that I am using a very simplified version. Also, the /r/ sound heavily impacts vowels, and my accent relies very heavily upon the /r/ sound, so if you have an accent that tends to retract the /r/ from words? my pronunciation will sound so weird to you.

Jack: the beginning of this name, the affricate /dʒ/, and the consonant sound at the end, voiceless velar plosive /k/ - both those sounds are crisp and noticeable. the /k/ is often tagged onto the next sound - so, if you say ‘Jack’ in a sentence, that /k/ tags onto the next word, or even becomes voiced to make something like a /g/ sound. now, the /dʒ/ and /k/ sounds are joined by the /æ/ vowel, bright and lateral and almost nasal in its pronunciation. all around, this name is crisp and bright, short and concise.

Carla: /kärlə/ starts with the voiceless velar plosive /k/, sharp, crisp, clear. the     /är/ part is also clear, easy to hear with an accent that relies on the /r/ sound. the alveolar lateral approximant /l/ leading into the neutral /ə/ is deceptively simple - the spelling of the name Carla, ending with an ‘a’, seems feminine, but the /ə/ sound is the most common vowel sound, ubiquitous and useful.

Thane: /θeɪn/ begins with the voiceless dental fricative - the tongue against the teeth, air passing in the small space between them. it’s a kind of soft hissing airy sound, gentle, before the vibrations of the vowel come in. the /eɪ/ sound is a diphthong that moves from mid-central to front placement, meaning it moves forward in the mouth. the last sound is a warm alveolar nasal /n/. this name starts soft and ends grounded in that /n/ sound.

Julian: /dʒuliɪn/ starts with the affricate /dʒ/, which usually sounds crisp but since this one leads into the close-back /u/ into a liquid /l/, the /dʒ/ is warm and not so sharp. the /iɪn/ part of the name has two close-front vowels, toward the front of the mouth, ending with nasal /n/, though not as dense and warm as /n/ usually is - more or a short tap of sound.

Thyria: /θiriə/ thiis name starts with the voiceless dental fricative /θ/, a quick cool light brush of air before the vowels. then, /iri/, two close-front vowels tied together by that tricky /r/ sound. the /r/ here is not clean-cut, but smooth, especially in the aftermath of that gentle /θ/ sound at the start of the name. this name is sort of ethereal, and ends nice and light with a neutral /ə/ sound. pleasant to the ears.

Lianei: (assuming this is pronounced LEE-uh-nay; if that’s not correct, hit me up!) /liəneɪ/ the /li/ at the beginning is a liquid sound and a close-front vowel, so the tongue at the top of the mouth, hitting that hard palate there? it flicks down for the mouth to open up and make that ‘ee’ sound. the mouth opens up more for the ‘uh’ /ə/ sound. next is the nasal /n/ that makes the following diphtong /eɪ/ warm and grounded rather than annoyingly bright. this name sounds pretty to me, pleasant with the /l/ and the ending /eɪ/ !

Ruby: /rubi/ short and sweet! the ‘r’ at the start of this name is actually /ɻ/, which is a retroflex approximant, a consonant sound that’s pretty far back in the mouth for English speakers. this leads to the /u/ sound, a close-bacl vowel that’s got a deep, dense sound thanks to being for far back in the mouth. the second syllable, /bi/, is at the fronnt of the mouth. since the /b/ sound is a bilabial plosive, the lips simply close to make that sound, and open back up for the close-front, bright lateral /i/ vowel. the /b/ sound is a little pop that adds life to the name! these are sweet sounds.

Miriam: /miriəm/ this name is warm, warm, warm! except for the /i/ sounds, it’s all warm. the bilabial nasal /m/ at the start and finish keeps the warmth even, the lips meeting at both ends of the name, grounding, soft. the /r/ sound makes the /i/ sounds glide and not too bright or sharp in contrast with the soft /m/. that /ə/, the last vowel sound, makes the end of the word sound like ‘um’, which is holding your mouth open neutrally and then closing it. this name has a wonderful texture.

Donna: /dɑnə/ starts with a voiced alveolar plosive /d/ that opens up to a back-open /ɑ/, which lets cool air into your mouth a little since it’s so open! then, a nasal /n/ sound humming into the neutral, calm /ə/ vowel, simple and neat. this name sounds good if you make your vowels tall, not too sunny and lateral and bright.

Yuki: /juki/ this name is so cute. that’s not an analysis. it’s just so fucking cute. ok. so. the /ju/ (sounds like ‘yoo’) is a smooth transition from a bright sound to a deep, close-back rounded vowel, homey and sweet. the /k/, a velar plosive, is a little pop of sound made by the middle of your tongue pressing up to the roof of your mouth and popping down for crisp little noise. finally, a bright /i/ sound, at the front of the mouth. this name has a youthful, small, simple sound.

Nick: /nɪk/ the little vowel in between the consonants pops out when the tounge comes down from the alveolar ridge at the top of the mouth. the nasal /n/ opens up to the close-front /ɪ/ sound, and is capped off with a crisp, clean /k/ that tags onto the next word in a sentence. short, clean, poppy!

Martin: /märʔn/ starts with a bilabial nasal /m/, warm, opens right up to the /är/, an easy sound to pick out. if pronouned slowly and meticulously, it would end with /tɪn/, which is short, simple, pure, light on the ears, easy to pronounce, the /n/ not as dense as usual. but the name ends with /ʔn/, a glottal stop and a nasal, which are in the throat and above the mouth, warm and dense and deep. 

Dante: /dɑnteɪ/ begins with a voiced alveolar plosive and opens up to an unrounded back open /ɑ/ vowel, humming into a nasal /n/ sound, grounded. the /teɪ/ is a sunny, bright syllable with the crisp plosive /t/ and the diphthong /eɪ/. this name’s sounds move from the back to the front, brightening up nicely!

Emma: /ɛmə/ the vowels of this name move from near the front, /ɛ/, to a more neutral mid sound /ə/. the bilabial nasal /m/ in between holds them together with a warm little pop of the lips. simple and sweet.

Anya: /änjə/ this name sounds very pleasing to me. the open central /ä/ leading into the warm /n/, the smooth light /jə/ (’yuh’ sound) is pleasantly simple - this name is like a breeze, it’s easy for an English speaker and also for speakers of other languages!

Ebony: /ɛbəni/ the bright, open-mid vowel /ɛ/is kept separate from the other syllables with the bilabial plosive /b/, a warm pop of sound. then, a neutral /ə/, warmed up by the nasal /n/, which is brightened by the close-front /i/ vowel, a happy note to end on. this name, with its bilabial plosive and nasal mixed with two bright sounds and a neutral middle, has a mature and rich sound.

Brenna: /brɛnə/ starting off with a voiced bilabial plosive /b/, the sound is carried over the transition of an /r/ into the front open-mid vowel /ɛ/. this hums into an alveolar nasal /n/, evened out calmly by a final /ə/. this name feels kind of earthy, grounded, with an open ending.

@rikersgirl22 @aryn-the-wolfheart @duskexx @spinosaurusregina 

#answered #linguistics #this took all day but i am happy with my work #look at all these words #holy heck

[ao3feed-captainswan]

Heart's Desire

read it on the AO3 at http://bit.ly/2RcPhps

by Kerkerian

Emma saves Hook just in time, but it doesn't mean that automatically, all is well.

Words: 1669, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Once Upon a Time (TV)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/M

Characters: Captain Hook | Killian Jones, Emma Swan

Relationships: Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Emma Swan

Additional Tags: Episode: s05e14 Devil's Due, Underworld (Once Upon a Time), Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Injury, Canonical Hook whump, Aftermath, Some Fluff, divergence from canon

read it on the AO3 at http://bit.ly/2RcPhps

#IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic #Captain Swan #CS fanfics

[ao3feed-reed900]

by HyperKey

The aftermath of what happened in the previous oneshot.

Words: 1457, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 19 of Chronological Order

Fandoms: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Characters: Gavin Reed, Upgraded Connor | RK900, Emma Phillips

Relationships: Upgraded Connor | RK900/Gavin Reed

Additional Tags: Fluff, Whump, attic shenanigans, Family

#ao3feed #fanfic #dbh #reed900 #Detroit become human #gavin reed #rk900 #upgraded connor

[justsomewhump]

Dirty Little Sessions Ch. 9 (Epilogue)

Note: This is the last chapter. There is going to be very mild physical whump here, but we’re also dealing with rape aftermath, so if you’re in for emotional whump both for Killian and for Emma, and are ok with reading about self-harm, then you can go ahead. I’ve done some research on the field, so I hope I get their reactions right - it’s not gonna be an easy path for them. Also yes, sorry, but there is magical healing. I have to stay true to the characters, and with Emma having magic that makes healing so simple, she wouldn’t take a lot of time to make Killian’s wounds disappear… albeit only his physical ones.

That said, I want to thank you all for you enthusiasm and dedication to this story. As it is my first foray into whumpy fics, it meant the world to me to get positive response. It literally started with simply publishing one chapter I wrote on a whim and it got crazy on Tumblr after that. I appreciate every single review I’ve been given and my words will never be enough to express my appreciation. Just, thank you all :)

For the purpose of this fic, let’s say it takes place before season 6B.

Tagging @killian-whump, @cocohook38 and @harryandthecambridges

Ch. 1 Ch. 2 Ch. 3 Ch. 4 Ch. 5 Ch. 6 Ch. 7 Ch. 8

AO3

The first thing Emma feels is Killian’s hand slipping from her own. She wakes up, feeling the terrible kink in her neck and opens her eyes.

As she focuses, she sees that Killian has taken his oxygen mask off and now takes off the butterfly needle on his arm with his teeth. He spits out the thin tube, then puts his hand under the covers and meddles with something on his crotch.

“Hey, wait,” Emma says softly, but is too slow to stop him from pulling his catheter out, causing the sheet over his crotch to stain with urine. Killian looks at the stain and makes a soft whimper, then closes his eyes and starts panting.

“Killian, listen to me,” she says softly.

He shakes his head and covers his closed eyes with his hand.

“Do you know where you are?” she asks.

“Out,” he says simply.

“Yes, you’re out of there. You’re safe, we both are, okay?”

He doesn’t respond.

“Can I touch your arm?” she asks.

“No,” he whispers, still trying to get his breathing under control.

“Okay. Killian, I need you to look at me. I want to try to help you with your breathing, so if you can look at me…”

His only response is to lower his hand to cover his mouth and open his eyes, but his stare is blank.

“Killian?”

He keeps looking at the ceiling without any focus, and Emma realizes he’s probably having a flashback again.

“Killian? Killian, come on!” Her voice raises in volume despite her own exhaustion, but it only causes Killian to breathe harder. “Killian!” she almost shouts, unconsciously touching his arm, and he immediately jerks it away, making a whimpering sound. Once again he covers his eyes with his hand and starts trembling.

Emma freezes. She has no idea how to deal with this, how to help him, and she’s pretty sure she only made things worse. She sits back on her chair, closes her eyes and rests her head in her hands, waiting for him to calm down. She doesn’t know when he will, so she just waits.

A few minutes later, she hears his breathing go back to normal. He lets out a soft groan and she opens her eyes. There are tear tracks on his temple.

“Killian, it’s over. You are safe, okay?”

He nods and opens his eyes, red-rimmed and bleary. He’s still pale, the bruises on his face standing out.

“Are you alright?” he asks, his voice weak and rough. She didn’t expect any different.

“Yeah, and you are getting better. They gave you some medicine for-”

“What happened?” he interrupts her, and his face shows that he barely registered anything but her “Yeah”.

“You don’t remember?”

“I…” he sighs weakly. “They… took me away and… I slept…”

“Yeah. They got you here and I followed you, them.”

“You weren’t in the ambulance,” he whispers, turning his gaze away.

Her mouth goes dry. He wasn’t supposed to remember that. She opens her mouth to say something, but she can’t think of anything to say.

“You weren’t there, you…” He swallows hard. “How did you get here?”

Now it’s her time to swallow hard and wring her hands together. “David brought me here.”

“Your father is here? How?”

“They used a locator potion to find us, since they couldn’t call our phones and the police had barely started searching.”

“What day is it?”

“Early Saturday. It’s still 5 AM, you can go to sleep-”

“We were there since Thursday.”

Emma nods. “And the police didn’t start searching until Friday night, less than twelve hours ago.”

“But your father found us,” he says, sighing.

She nods again.

“Does he know? What… did you tell him?”

She has to lie. She can’t let him know that David knows. She has to, but her response is too slow.

“No, he doesn’t. He didn’t ask…”

She wants to slap herself. He didn’t ask?

Killian’s breathing is getting heavy again. “He knows,” he says, brokenly.

Emma opens her mouth to speak again, but nothing comes out. She lowers her gaze and sighs.

“You told him?” his voice raises in volume and pitch, and cracks as a result.

“No. I didn’t tell him. He… he heard it from the officers and the doctors, I couldn’t stop them…” It’s not a lie, technically. They did use the words “sexual assault” so he would probably find out anyway.

Killian turns his head away and covers his eyes with his hand again. She can see tears running down his cheeks, though he doesn’t sob.

“Please,” he whispers. “I need a moment.”

Emma feels as if he told her to lift a ton of weight. She’s not only too tired to stand up and walk outside, his rejection hits hard. She was only separated from him against her will and he had a panic attack, and now he’s shooing her away?

This thought springs her to her feet and she steps outside without looking back. David has fallen asleep on a bench right outside Killian’s room, a coffee cup loosely held in his hand.

“Dad?” she only whispers, but he jostles awake.

“Emma,” he blinks a few times before adding, “Everything okay?”

“No,” she says simply. “He woke up. He knows that you know that they raped him.” His eyes go wide at her use of that word, but she continues. “He threw me out.”

“Emma, calm down,” he says and stands up.

“No, I can’t calm down!” she whispers with ferocity, trying to get all of her anger out while still conscious of where she is. “I was there with him the whole time, helped him, fed him, comforted him and now he wants me out. Don’t I get to say anything?” She feels her head grow hot with anger, as well as tears run down her cheeks.

David pulls her into his arms and she breathes out hard on his shoulder. His hand goes for the back of her head, and she once again feels the immediate comfort that always comes with the gesture.

“He’s in shock, Emma. Give him some time. I’m sure he appreciates-”

“I need some time too,” she says, her voice breaking by the sobs. “He got angry that you know, as if he’d thought I would never be allowed to talk about what I went through, even if… if…” she falters, her words failing her.

“It’s too early. He may want to share it with someone some day, but it would be his choice. Me not only knowing it, but, seeing it…”

“Oh, no,” she says, pulling away. “He doesn’t know you saw. He just… he asked and I tried to lie, but I failed. He just knows that you heard it from the doctors, so please don’t tell him you saw. He’ll hate you and me and himself…”

“Okay,” he says softly and rubs her shoulders.

A little later the police wants Emma to testify and a therapist tries to talk with Killian.

They tell her there is footage of everything - apparently that camera had been recording the whole time, so she asks what they need a testimony for. Killian is still too shaken to talk about it, let alone in detail as they would probably want it. Eventually, a few more hours are dedicated to her testifying, and even though she’s been on both sides of that procedure in the past, it still wrecks her already tense nerves. She feels exhausted as she walks back to David with their personal effects.

Her coat is too dirty, but their phones are unharmed, as well as Killian’s hook and brace. His clothes, however, are already stained and smell of his release. Emma feels her breakfast threaten to come out at the memory, but once again she swallows it down and folds the bag with his clothes away.

The therapist steps out of Killian’s room, shaking his head at Emma and David.

“Eventually, he’ll have to talk about it with someone,” he tells Emma after she follows him, leaving David behind. “But perhaps it’s too early now, and he will need to fully trust the person…”

“Can’t I be that person?” Emma asks.

“You were there, with him, right?”

Emma nods. “Yeah, the whole time.”

The man sighs. “Perhaps you should consider therapy for yourself as well. Witnessing a traumatic event, especially of someone close to us, can have similar results to actually being the victim of said event.”

Emma blinks and shakes her head. “You mean I may have PTSD as well?”

“There are many different ways the mind responds to a traumatic event. Regardless of its name, I suggest you find an expert to talk to. They have to know how to deal with what you tell them, otherwise you may inadvertently pass on the trauma to them. This is why I believe Mr. Jones should have, besides you, someone professional to talk to.”

Emma shivers. Who is he gonna talk to? She already doubts she’ll have the courage to go to Archie herself, who knows the entire town almost personally, and talk about it.

“Thank you,” she says blankly. The doctor nods and leaves.

Emma enters the room again. Killian is still on his bed, looking at his chest, his blanket up to his neck, as if he’s trying to cover the bruises from the collar.

“I have to get out of here,” he says, his voice still rough.

“You’re still on antibiotics and fluids-”

“I don’t care.”

Emma sighs. “I know it’s early. I think you may be thinking that you’ll never be able to… but you’ll need to talk to someone.”

“No.”

“Okay. You don’t have to do this now. But it will help you feel better.”

“I only want to get out of here,” he almost whines, closing his eyes shut and bringing the blanket closer to his chin.

“We will. Soon. I promise.” She hasn’t actually thought of that. She was so terrified of anyone finding out what happened that she didn’t want to go back to Storybrooke for now, but it would be the wisest choice. Once they cross the border, Emma can heal him and make all physical signs go away. Then they can spend days upon days in their home and not have any guests for as long as they want. And Killian can be back home and feel safe and protected again. “I will tell the doctors to discharge you as soon as possible.”

Too tired to even do that herself, she only tells David to do it for her. He kisses her forehead, and she feels grateful she only slightly wants to pull away from his touch, and he goes to do as he’s told. Emma returns to the room and rubs at her pained neck.

“You should lie down, love,” Killian says.

“I want to stay next to you.”

He points at the bed next to him. They’ve been lucky enough that his room had only one more bed, and it was empty.

“Lie down, please.” She barely hears any plea in his voice but knowing him, she’s sure he’s more worried for her than he is for himself even after what he went through. God, he almost died there, and now he’s worried about her stiff neck.

She lies down anyway, and even the hard mattress of the hospital bed feels like a blessing after she had to sleep on floors and chairs. She remembers then how dirty she is, her vomit from earlier slightly visible on her upper legs, but before she even thinks of going to the bathroom again, she falls asleep.

~

“No! Let me go!”

She hears Killian’s screams from somewhere, and suddenly they’re back in the dance studio, tied down and helpless, until she hears Killian scream again without his mouth moving.

She opens her eyes and immediately looks at her side. Killian is not on the bed, and the bathroom door is open, no light coming out of it. She jumps out of the bed and dizzily rushes out the door. Killian is lying on the floor a few feet away, trembling, with two nurses trying to hold him stable, and David is standing beside them, looking helpless.

“Killian!” Emma shouts. “What happened?” She moves to kneel down next to Killian, whose eyes aren’t focusing anywhere.

“He walked out on his own,” David says. “I- he- I wanted to guide him back but he jolted when I touched him-”

“You touched him?” Emma tells him. “You didn’t even ask?!”

“He wasn’t… I- I didn’t know…”

Emma turns back to the nurses. One of them has lowered her head so that it’s right in front of Killian’s, and seems to be breathing in sync with him.

“That’s good, keep breathing with me,” she says softly. She keeps inhaling deeply, puffing up her cheeks as she exhales and Killian is looking at her, following her instructions. Eventually, he calms down when they pick him up and put him on a wheelchair, rolling him back into the room.

Emma doesn’t realize she has been watching in shock and sitting on the floor until David touches her shoulder. She flinches a little and looks up at him.

“Emma? Sweetheart, are you okay?”

She looks at him, but feels too numb to respond. She lowers her head and David rubs at her shoulder.

“Miss, are you okay?” one of the nurses asks when they walk out. Emma jolts her head up at her.

“What happened to him?” she asks.

“He had a panic attack. We were informed this may happen, but he’s better now. He just needs to rest, and you need to make sure he feels comfortable. It’s possible he may be triggered by any unwanted physical contact.”

“How did you help him?”

“Uh, basic training,” she says. “Some techniques may work on some people, some may not.”

“Could you teach me to help him?”

The nurse’s mouth falters for a few seconds, and she looks up at David.

“Honey, I think you need to rest. Maybe she can tell you later?”

“But what if it happens again?”

“They’ll be there for us. The doctors said they can discharge Killian by noon, so you can sleep until then and then you can ask her. Just go rest, okay? I’ll be careful next time, if he tries to walk out again.”

Emma wants to argue, but the fatigue settling in her bones is almost pushing her back to the bed, her eyelids drooping closed. She nods and walks to the room. She takes one last look at David and is surprised to see the same nurse say something to him, too low for Emma to hear.

Emma feels a shiver run down her spine. Maybe she is going to need help herself, after all.

The rest of the day becomes a hazy blur. David brings new clothes for both of them, plain and totally not something they would wear in any case, but Emma doesn’t care. Killian asks Emma to get out as he’s getting dressed, and she does, until he opens the door a little, without looking out, and calls for her. His left arm, back and hips still hurt too much for him to get dressed on his own, it seems. She helps him put on everything, new underwear, pants and sweatshirt, as well as shocks and sneakers. Killian tries to help himself and looks embarrassed the whole time as he hugs his torso with his arms around his oversized sweatshirt, half-sitting on the bed, wincing as he does.

“I’m going to heal you as soon as we cross the town line, okay?” she tells him softly.

He doesn’t respond.

His eyes light up a little when Emma shows him his brace and hook. This time, he puts it on himself, knowing perfectly how loose to tie it so that it will neither hurt him nor slide off. He definitely looks a little better once he clicks the hook in. It’s strange to see him in a sweatshirt and simple jeans with his hook on, but she’s glad he feels a little stronger now.

They discharge him later, and David follows Emma’s advice to wait by the car.

Emma enters the room one last time. Killian is lying on the bed, having covered himself with the blanket. He would normally need to stay more - his infection has not cured fully and he would look less pale if he stayed longer on the IV… but luckily - and strangely, but Emma won’t complain - the STD tests came out negative, so it’s one less thing to worry about. Emma walks slowly in front of him, keeping a safe distance.

“David will drive us back to Storybrooke. Are you ready to go?” she tells him.

He looks at her, worry creasing his features. “Your car?”

“I’m too tired to drive it now. I had him take it to a parking station for now, but we will reach the town faster with the cruiser.”

“He’s with the cruiser?” Killian asks, and his shoulders seem to relax a little.

She nods. “You can sit at the back seat, and I can sit next to you if you want me to.” That way he won’t have to fear David may be staring at him.

They walk slowly to the car, and Emma feels her heart drop when she realizes he’s limping. Killian’s head is held high, and Emma sees that he tries to ignore all the nurses and doctors looking their way as they exit. Good, so much for Killian having an at least decent experience with the hospital after everything.

David barely looks at them as they enter the car, and doesn’t speak to Killian besides giving him an awkward greeting. Killian zips up his new coat and huddles in the corner of the backseat, not letting Emma touch him. He spends almost the whole journey sleeping and she watching him. He startles awake a few times, then just looks around and falls asleep again.

He wakes up fully on their last stop for fuel and snacks, but doesn’t leave the car, nor does Emma, and he stays silent for the rest of the trip.

When they cross the town border, Emma immediately feels her magic flare up, automatically healing the burns on her wrists and the cut on her palm and almost flashing out of her hands, wanting to heal Killian as well, but he closes his eyes and huddles further in, burying his nose in his jacket. She leans in towards him.

“Would you like me to take us home right now?” she whispers. His eyes still closed, he simply nods. Emma turns to her father. “We’re gonna go home, okay? Tell mom and Henry I’ll be alright and that I love them.” David nods at her through the rear-view mirror, and Emma flicks her wrist.

Her magic develops them and they appear in their house, on the couch in the living room. Killian looks around for a few seconds, and realization dawns on his face. He stands up immediately and tries to limp to the door.

“Wait. Killian,” Emma starts. She walks up next to him but is careful to keep her distance. “Where are you going?”

“Out,” he says.

“Out? Out where? Where do you-”

“My ship. I can’t stay here.” His voice is still quiet and almost sounds flat.

“What? Why?”

“I just want to go to my ship. Please.”

“Okay, okay, wait. We don’t have to walk there.”

He looks at her frustrated. “I…” he starts.

“I’ll just take us there, okay?”

He hesitates, but he nods, his expression still frustrated. Within seconds, they are standing on the deck of his ship. It’s still a little cold outside, the sun setting on the horizon. Killian’s shoulders start shaking a little, and Emma tries to approach him, but he lifts his hand to stop her as he runs to the rail and leans forward, throwing up.

Emma approaches him fast but carefully, making sure he’s registered her proximity to him without touching him. He still shakes a little, looking down where his vomit starts mixing with the water, and sighs. He wipes his mouth with his hand and as he does, he pulls on a wound on his lip and a few drops of blood appear on it.

“Let me heal you,” Emma says.

He closes his eyes, face still down.

“Your wounds are still infected, we would have to go to the hospital again unless I heal you.”

His hand gripping hard on the rail, he nods without opening his eyes.

“I may have to touch you, is that okay?”

There are a few seconds of silence. “Yes,” he whispers finally.

Emma nods, even though Killian can’t see her, and she hovers her hand above his back. Light flares up from her hand as she moves it downward, feeling her magic make work on his wounds. His back relaxes a little at that, as if standing straight was hurting him all this time. She then brings her hand close to his face and sees as the bruises disappear one by one and the few wounds close.

He sighs and opens his eyes. If it weren’t for the slight pale color of his face and his overgrown stubble, no-one would ever suspect something had happened to him.

“Thank you,” he whispers and turns towards her, but looks down at her feet.

“Would you like me to go? Do you want some time alone?”

He shakes his head. “Stay?” he says, softly.

“Okay.” She contemplates asking him if he wants a hug, and she takes a few seconds to try and form the question. She decides to simply open her arms as indication for it. “Can I…” she starts.

Killian closes his eyes, brows furrowed, and thinks for a few seconds before shaking his head. Emma drops her arms.

“I’m sorry,” he says, opening his eyes. “I… I…”

“Don’t worry. Take your time.” Her hand goes to touch his shoulder, but he flinches away.

He takes one step back, still looking down. “I just want to lie down,” he says and turns towards his cabin.

She follows him quietly, and is surprised when she sees him shut the door to her face, without even saying anything else. She stays outside his door, looking at it in shock, until she hears the faint sounds of him crying from inside.

She rests her hand on it, ready to knock and ask if he wants her in, but she feels her own leftover exhaustion almost take over her. She turns towards the crew quarters and collapses on a bed, hastily wrapping a blanket over her body before she starts quietly crying as well.

She wakes up covered in sweat, both cold from her nightmare and normal from having slept under a wool blanket, a headache threatening to make her head explode and the pillow wet from her tears. She can see that it’s gone dark, and the sound of the waves hitting the hull inform her that the ship is moving. She stands up quickly, seeing black spots for a few moments before she manages to find her balance, and walks up on deck.

The main sail is loose, running on the wind, and as Emma turns, she sees Killian seated on the stairs leading to the upper deck, an old pirate coat thrown over his shoulders. He’s now wearing one of his old shirts - buttoned up nearly to his chin - and pants, though still wearing the sneakers David got him. A small bottle of rum is in his hand, and Emma is glad to see there’s a lot of drink still left in it.

“Hey,” Emma says softly. He looks up at her and smiles. He stands up and walks to her, and she can see that the smile isn’t reaching his eyes.

“Hey, love. I hope you didn’t mind I took the Roger running. You were sleeping and I didn’t want to wake you up.”

He talks in such a relaxed and fast way she’s almost taken aback. Is this the same Killian that felt sorry he couldn’t let her hug him before?

“Are you okay?” Emma asks.

He raises one brow. “Of course I am. You healed me, right?” he tries to smile again, but it looks even more weird than before.

Emma bites her lip. He shouldn’t feel so better so fast, right? “Did you sleep well? Did-”

“Aye, perfect,” he says and turns around, stepping up to the helm. She catches the lie immediately. “Maybe it’s time to get you home.”

“Get me home? Aren’t you coming with me?”

He hesitates a little, before his fake smile falls and he drops his gaze to the ground. “I’ll- I’ll stay here for a few days,” he says, his voice noticeably quieter.

“Why?”

He shrugs, trying to put on his smile again. “I’m- I’m just…” he tries to say, but gives up, his shoulders hunching forward. “I’m not going to be a particularly pleasant company,” he says, so low that Emma almost can’t hear him.

She wishes she couldn’t.

“What are you saying?” she says and approaches him at the helm, noticing how he curls into himself a little, his shoulders tense. “You think I’d leave you alone because you’re not… you won’t…”

She can’t finish her sentence, but she knows Killian knows what she was going to say, as he throws his head back and furrows his brows.

“I don’t need your pity, Emma.”

“What?! You think I’m pitying you?”

“I just want some time on my own.”

“That’s not what you said.”

Killian huffs in frustration and turns his gaze away.

“Look, Killian… if you want to stay alone, all you have to do is say so. You can take as much time as you want, and I’ll understand. But don’t think- look at me,” she interrupts herself when she sees that he’s still stubbornly looking elsewhere. She reaches and puts her hand on the helm, right next to where his hook is resting. This catches his attention and he finally turns to her.

“I’ll be there for you,” Emma says. “No matter how hard you think this may be for me, that’s up to me to decide, but I’ll be by your side for as long as you want me.” His face softens a little at her words, but she goes on. “I… I need this too,” she adds, her voice breaking at the end. He opens his mouth, and she can see his lower lip is trembling slightly, so she raises her hand slowly and moves it towards his cheek. When it’s close enough he leans into her touch, and she rubs soft circles with her thumb, finally seeing his shoulders relax. She absent-mindedly thinks that he really needs to trim his beard as he takes half a step away from the helm so that she can wrap her arms around him. It feels like she hasn’t hugged him in years, and she feels the tension she didn’t know she had leave her body.

She notices, however, how he doesn’t tuck his face into the crook of her neck.

As they walk back home, Killian purposefully walks on Emma’s right side, not giving her a chance to switch sides - and she respects that, even though it hurts a little - and his only hand is curled into a fist. They walk slowly, Emma looking at Killian, whose head is up and whips left and right at every junction, and he looks almost ready to fight at any moment.

When they reach their house, Killian freezes when he sees the lights on the living room are on.

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s probably my mother, she has a key, remember?” Emma says, sensing that he’s panicking.

“Yeah,” Killian says softly. “Maybe it’s not a good idea-”

“Just this time…” Emma stops him. “Look. They probably just wanted to check in on us.”

“Wouldn’t they call us?”

“Well, they actually did,” Emma says, remembering seeing the fifteen missed calls from her mother from just that day. “But she probably just wants to see we’re okay. I promise I’ll try to get her out as fast as I can, okay?”

Killian’s face is set in an almost angry expression, but he nods and walks next to her to the entrance, tensing up as Emma opens the door.

“Emma! Oh my God!” Snow says as they enter, and runs to her, hugging her close.

“Mom,” Emma says and hugs her back, surprised at how much she actually missed her. Snow lets her go, then immediately goes to Killian and hugs him close, completely oblivious to his nervousness.

He looks up at Emma, his jaw clenching and his eyes wide open in an almost scared expression as he barely hugs her mother back. Snow pulls away and takes a look at him. Killian drops his gaze and takes a step back, as if hurt by her scrutiny.

“Are you okay? You look better than what David told me. Did Emma heal you?” She talks fast, barely taking a breath as she touches Killian’s arm, pulling her hand away when she feels him tense.

Killian nods, hunching his shoulders and dropping his gaze.

Emma touches Snow’s shoulder. “Mom, I missed you so much. Thank you for coming, but-”

Snow cuts her off by hugging her again. “‘You’ll be okay’? Did you really think I wouldn’t come and check in on you after you both went missing for two days?!” she says, voice still strained and almost broken with sobs.

“I’m sorry,” Emma says softly. “But we’re really okay, see? And we were tired, and we… we wanted some time on our own. Did Dad tell you…”

“He did tell me that you needed some time, but Emma, I’m your mother.” Snow pulls back again, caressing Emma’s hair as she speaks, ”And you wouldn’t answer your phone… What did you expect me to do?”

“Okay, okay,” Emma says. “But we’re really tired. I’m sorry I didn’t answer my phone.”

Snow nods. “Call me if you need anything, okay? And call me when you wake up tomorrow.”

Emma thinks that the question is if they’ll even sleep at all, but only nods at her mother. Snow turns to Killian, nodding at him as well as she reaches for her coat.

“Goodnight, and sleep well. If you need anything, really-”

“It’s okay, Mom. We’ll be okay.”

Snow nods one last time, and looks at Emma, then at Killian, worry creasing her face at him not looking back up since she hugged him, but she walks out the door anyway.

Killian sighs heavily once the door closes and rubs his forehead.

“So that went well,” he says. “Is she gonna be here all the time?”

“I could ask her to give me the key back, but she was just worried.”

“She’s your mother. She would worry about you. It’s me I don’t need her to worry about.”

“I don’t think she knows.”

“She said your father talked to her.”

“And he told her to stay away, and she didn’t, probably because she doesn’t have all the information. If she did she wouldn’t have leaped on you like that.”

Killian lets out a sigh. “You think she doesn’t know?”

“I told Dad to not tell anyone anything. She probably knew you were injured but I think that’s all she knew… but eventually, she will find out.”

His head jerks up and his eyes go wide. “What? How?”

“I don’t think David will be able to keep that from her for too long… or maybe I won’t.”

“Why would you do that?” His voice is suddenly really small. “I think you know I don’t want the others to know.”

“But I will need to talk to someone! You will need to talk to someone!”

He shrugs, trying to appear calm. “Why?”

“Because it was hard. And it will keep being hard unless we do something… unless we talk about it. To them, to Archie…”

“I’m not going to tell the cricket about what… what they did to me.” His voice drops in volume at the last words.

Emma closes her eyes and takes a deep breath before she opens them again. “Killian… you’ll have to. You may want to pretend you’ll get over it, but you’ll have to do it if you actually want to feel better.”

Killian huffs out, his brows furrowing in anger. “You know me. I’ve told you of my past. You know what that man got out of me was true. It wasn’t the first time, Emma. I’ll get over it.”

“You don’t have to fight it on your own. I can help you. Archie can help you.” She feels so tired and the last thing she wants to do is fight with him over this, over anything at that point.

“If you brought me here just to argue with me, I’m far off better on my ship. This is my problem to work with.”

“Wait, wait. I’m sorry. Don’t go yet.” She rubs her temples with her fingers, trying to think what’s best to do. “I’m sorry. I’m just upset. Give me a chance and I promise you, no-one will bother you here, okay? I’ll put a magic shield around the house if I have to so nobody can harm us, okay?”

Killian nods, and looks down for a few seconds before he turns to the stairs. Emma collapses on the couch, feeling exhausted and shaken. Things will be really hard if he continues to refuse therapy… she tells herself she might not need it since she wasn’t the one being assaulted - and that word feels bitter even thinking about it - but Killian certainly will.

She stays there for a few moments before she walks up to the bedroom too. She sees Killian walk out of it, a sheet thrown over his shoulder.

“What are you doing?” Emma says.

Killian turns to her, his expression sheepish. “I… I’m not sleeping with you tonight.” He tries to make his voice sound stable and sure, but he fails.

“Why?” Who is going to soothe each other’s nightmares, she thinks.

He shakes his head, not looking at her. “I just can’t. I’m sorry.” Without another word, he turns around and goes for the guest room, shutting the door behind him. Emma stays frozen right where she is for almost a minute, trying to comprehend what just happened.

He just refused getting any help from her.

He doesn’t want to sleep with her-

No. She won’t let herself fall into that pit. She walks to the guest room and taps softly at the door.

“Hey, you don’t have to say anything. It’s just, if you want to come to our bed at any time, just come, okay? Good night.”

She stays there for a few moments, both waiting and doubting he’ll respond. Eventually, she walks back to their bedroom.

She takes a shower, finally relieved to take all of the filth of the past few days off of her, and she lies on their bed. Her body almost sings as she touches the soft mattress, but she’s way too vigil to fall asleep right now. She’s left her door open, almost anticipating to hear Killian scream in his sleep - or while awake.

She sits up on the bed and opens her laptop. Opening up Google, she takes a few deep breaths as she pushes herself to type down the words she needs to. She feels as if the whole town is watching her somehow, immediately learning Killian’s secret, or as if Killian is watching her, judging her and thinking she’s pitying him, or these men watching her…

A tear slips down her cheek, and she wipes it away. She takes a few more breaths, trying to calm herself down. She needs to do this. She looks back at her screen and types “How to help rape survivors” on the search bar.

She spends the next hour searching and looking up advice and personal experiences. She makes a mental note of the most important ones, trying to will herself to remember them when she’ll deal with Killian the next day, or for the days to come.

However, she can’t find information for what to do with her situation - she doesn’t even know how to search for or even how to call her own situation.

She will definitely need to see Archie.

She wakes up a few hours later, sprawled over on the bed, her laptop on sleep mode and her hair dry. She didn’t even realize when she fell asleep, and shit, she promised herself she would look out for Killian.

She walks up to his room and contemplates opening the door. If he’s not asleep, she’ll scare him, and if he is, she may scare him anyway, and in any case she’ll be disrespecting his privacy, and the internet informed her about how important that is. She almost can’t believe there’s a chance she may see Killian wrapped in a blanket around a blanket fort. She never expected that, and it shakes her to think how much broken Killian would be if he resorted to this…

Her only fear is that she may not be strong enough to help him herself.

The days pass, and David gives Emma a few days off, and a few more after that, making Emma feel a little guilty - he still has a baby son to care for. But David insists, and frankly, she doesn’t mind staying at home, lying on her bed and staring at the ceiling.

She has nightmares, and so does Killian. Killian also has flashbacks, though Emma has only had two. She knew how to help him out of his and after, but Killian wasn’t even there when Emma had hers. They made her whole day terrible and she didn’t even have the heart to tell Killian about them.

After about two weeks during which Emma persuades herself and Killian to trust into the doctor-patient confidentiality, she visits Archie. It’s hard, and her talking triggers a minor flashback, this time with Archie taking part in it. She cries a lot, but he is patient and professional. She walks out of it feeling emotionally exhausted, with less hope she can get over it than what she had when she walked in. But Archie is hopeful.

When she comes home that evening, she finds Killian slouched on the sofa, apparently waiting for her, a glass of rum in his hand.

“Hey, everything okay?” she says, her voice rough from her crying.

“You talked to him,” Killian says. It’s not a question.

Emma nods. “I needed to. He won’t tell anyone. We talked about this.”

He takes one sip from his drink. “How am I going to look at him now, if I see him in public?”

Emma doesn’t comment that he’s barely gone out these weeks, not even to his ship. “He’ll be okay. He won’t tell anyone and he won’t judge.”

Killian just huffs and keeps drinking the whole night through. Emma wakes up next morning to find him passed out by the toilet, his vomit stinking from inside the bowl. She flushes the toilet and cleans both the air and Killian’s stained shirt with her magic before it all triggers a flashback.

As the days go by, she realizes everything is harder than she’d imagined. Killian sometimes doesn’t let her comfort him after having a flashback or a panic attack, he still sleeps in the guest room and locks himself in it whenever someone makes a visit - Snow, Henry, even David - and he even gets aggressive sometimes, shutting doors with force and shouting at her for the most ridiculous reasons. She almost always finds him wrapped in his blanket after that. Sometimes he lets her hold him, other times he just throws her out before she can even say anything.

And if that wasn’t enough, she has her own issues to work with. Killian made her promise to not tell anyone about what happened, so the only person she can talk to besides Archie is David, but it almost always makes him uncomfortable when she describes her nightmares or flashbacks. She even has flashbacks in front of David, and he’s forced to learn how to treat those as well. But she can’t tell him everything lest her trauma becomes his trauma. And it’s been almost a month after the incident and Killian won’t talk to Archie and everything sucks.

One day, Emma comes home from work, and the first thing she sees is Killian run up the stairs, his steps heavy and hasty, and Snow standing up from the kitchen table, walking slowly towards the stairs, almost shocked.

“What happened?” Emma says.

“I don’t know…” Snow says, her voice weak, almost whispering. “He looked like he was out, as if he wasn’t hearing me, and I touched him, and he screamed… and…”

“A flashback…” Emma whispers.

“Oh my God, I’m sorry, Emma, I didn’t know-”

“Please, Mom, you have to leave. Please, he’ll need to know you’re not here, so…”

“Okay, okay,” Snow says, nodding, though tears are forming in her eyes. “I’m so sorry-” she whispers.

“I know, I know, just go.” Emma can feel her knees start shaking. He wasn’t supposed to… he didn’t want to be seen like this to someone else. It was bound to happen at some point, even with how he’s almost isolated himself the past month but still…

She runs up the stairs and follows Killian’s muffled sobs to the bathroom. She knocks on the door.

“Killian, my mother is gone. I’m sorry she came in like this.”

She can hear him cry still.

“Are you still having a flashback?”

“No,” he says in a ragged voice, and keeps sobbing afterwards.

She repeats her post-flashback mantra. “It’s okay now, you’re safe. It’s over.”

He doesn’t say anything, just keeps crying.

“Can I come in?”

She hears movement, then the door being unlocked and Killian appearing behind it. He looks almost ashen white, his eyes are red and there are tear tracks on his face, his hair is a mess and his left arm is hidden behind his back. He tries to move past Emma but she notices the way he keeps his arm out of her view, then turns to the bathroom to see a few drops of blood on the floor.

“Killian, wait,” she says as calm as she can. She walks to him slowly and puts on an understanding face even as panic starts creeping up in her. “Did you cut yourself?”

Careful, Emma. Don’t judge, don’t berate him, don’t shout, don’t scare him away.

He doesn’t respond, his back to her and his arm hidden from her.

“I just want to help you. I’m not going to judge or scream at you. Just tell me if you cut yourself.”

He turns around and there are new tears running from his eyes, as he lifts up his sleeve to reveal four skin-deep slashes on the inside of his left arm.

She swallows hard. She feels her body go numb from the panic, but she forces herself to speak. “Okay. Thank you for showing me.” She looks up at him and she can see he’s surprised - he definitely didn’t expect this kind of reaction. “Would you like me to heal them?” she asks.

Killian shakes his head, apparently not trusting his voice right now, and the movement causes another tear to slip from his eye. He covers his arm with the sleeve again.

“Okay, okay,” Emma says. “I’m here if you want to talk.”

Killian nods and goes to the guest room, closing the door behind him. Emma almost runs to the bedroom and lets out the shaky breath she was holding. Her arms start shaking as she sits down on the bed, and she feels tears prickle her eyes. She read that it was common for rape survivors to self-harm, but actually seeing it was way worse than she thought it would be.

She had seen teens harm themselves in foster homes, and they were always scolded by the parents, or even some social workers. There had been times she’d contemplated cutting herself as well, but she never went so far as to actually do it - and she also never had a friend amongst those who did it. Seeing it now in Killian, the man she loves…

She lets herself break down and cry. She’ll need her strength when - hopefully, when - Killian decides to talk to her about it.

And it’s only a few hours later that he does. Emma is sitting on the couch, a cup of hot chocolate warming her hands, when Killian walks down the stairs to her.

“Hey,” he tells her. “I’m sorry for scaring you earlier.”

“It’s okay.”

“Is it?”

She sighs. “No, actually. But what I mean is that I understand. It’s normal for you to feel this way, but if you want to talk about it…”

He says nothing, simply sits down next to her on the couch. She offers him her cup, and he takes it with a small smile, taking a sip from it.

“No rum this time?” he says as he returns it to her.

Emma smiles a little. There. Casual conversation, nothing’s really changed, you can talk to me.

“I don’t know what drove me to do this,” he says in a soft voice. “I wasn’t even thinking, I just was so upset and angry… Your mother saw me having a flashback, and I came out of it a little more violently than I’m used to, and it just… scared me. And I ran upstairs, trying to find an exit for these emotions… I don’t even know what I was thinking.” He speaks slow, having a hard time finding his words as his hand toys with his hook. He takes deep breaths between phrases and keeps looking down as he does. “I’m sorry I scared you.”

“Don’t worry about me, Killian.”

“You weren’t scared?”

Emma hesitates. “I… was, a little, at first. But it’s over now, and what matters right now is you. Thank you for letting me know.” She extends her hand, and she waits for him to nod before she touches his arm - the right one, as it’s the one closest to her.

“So you’re not going to be angry at me?”

“No, but that’s not the point. I want to help you find a way out of this. Do you want to find a way out of this?”

He hesitates, still looking down.

“I know it may seem hard to believe right now, but you can get over this. You can help yourself find other ways to vent out your emotions, and I can help you with that. I’ll be here for you.”

“And what about you? Don’t you need to find your own ways to deal with your problems… and the ones I cause you?”

Emma smiles. “I talk to Archie. He helps.”

Killian finally turns to her, his own expression fallen. “Do you really believe he can help me?”

Emma nods. She merely hopes those two can work together, otherwise they would have to find another therapist… out of town and without any knowledge about magic and any understanding about Killian’s ridiculously old age.

“So, can I go tomorrow?” he says, voice low.

“I’ll try to settle for an appointment as soon as possible.”

Eventually, the appointment is set for three days later, and by the time Killian has to go, he’s completely unwilling to leave the guest room.

“Killian, come on,” Emma tells him through the closed door.

“Leave me alone, Emma.”

Emma rests her forehead on the door, starting to feel more and more hopeless. She misses him… misses his touch, his comfort, his strength, and trying to build him up alongside with her own self with only David’s help turns out to be a true labor.

“We have to go,” she insists.

“I told you I don’t want to go!” He sounds genuinely angry, nothing alike to a petulant child.

“You didn’t tell me why.”

“Because he’s not going to help me. He doesn’t know how.”

“You don’t know that. And he’s helping me.”

“That’s because your case is different.”

Emma sighs. “He knows how to work around different cases. Please, Killian, give him a try,” she says, for the millionth time this month.

It takes a few more minutes, but he finally opens the door. They walk to Archie’s office, Killian seeming ready to turn around and leave at any given moment. Eventually, she makes sure he enters the office, then goes across the road to Granny’s, watching at the window as she waits for him to come out.

About forty minutes later, he walks out, head down and hand toying with his hook. She’d told him she would wait for him at Granny’s, but when he exits he immediately turns towards the docks. Emma runs out to him, but before she can approach him, he turns to her, gives her a sad expression as he shakes his head and turns back to the road. He pulls the collar of his jacket up and keeps walking away from her.

She contemplates going to Archie and ask what happened. She almost walks up the stairs to his office, but turns around when she thinks she has to give Killian the chance to tell her on his own.

She waits for him, even after it starts going dark. That’s when she receives a message from Killian telling her that he’s okay and to not wait for him, as he’ll be late. She really tries to follow his lead, but eventually she falls asleep on the couch and jolts awake when Killian enters.

“You’re still here,” Killian says, an expression of slight surprise on his face.

“Yeah, well. I fell asleep. You okay?” she says, blearily.

He simply nods, takes off his coat and boots and walks upstairs without another word.

“Do you want to talk?” she says, but he doesn’t say a word.

Her nightmares are a bit worse this time, and when she wakes up in the middle of the night, she can hear him cry through his closed door.

In the morning, she pushes him to talk during breakfast.

“So, anything new?”

Killian looks at her bitterly.

“Do you want to talk about yesterday?”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“You don’t have to be so mysterious about it.”

“I’m not being mysterious,” he says matter-of-factly as he puts a handful of marmalade on his bread. “Nothing happened, I didn’t utter a word in the full forty-three minutes I was in there. He kept asking me questions, he kept trying to get me to talk, and I couldn’t say a thing. He got bored, told me we can try again next time and dutifully shooed me out of his office before I could waste even more of his time.”

Emma opens her mouth to speak, but Killian interrupts her.

“And don’t say it’s fine, because it’s not.”

“I didn’t expect you to have all your problems solved by one session, Killian.”

“Aye, I did expect for something to happen. Anything.”

“It’s alrgi- ugh. Look, it’s normal. Not everyone accepts therapy immediately, especially if they’ve never had before. All you need to do is try again.”

“I don’t know if I want to.”

“You didn’t even get to see if it helped!”

“It didn’t!”

“Well, you didn’t say anything, did you? It gets two to have a therapy session. You can’t be helped if you don’t talk.”

Killian puts his bread down, covering his eyes with his hand. “How am I supposed to open up to him? What am I supposed to tell him?”

“The truth. In whatever way you want to.”

He lets out a shaky sigh. “It’s not that easy, Emma…”

“I know. And I doubt it’s easier for you than it’s been for me. So it really is okay if you were scared in there.”

At that, the dam breaks and Killian bursts out in sobs. He leans forward and cries, so Emma brings her chair closer and lets his head rest on her shoulder. She rubs his back and the nape of his neck, letting him cry out his frustration and pain. They both lose their appetite after that, and Killian barely looks any better, but at least he let that out.

That same evening, as Emma thinks about how they haven’t even kissed all that time, Killian promises her he’ll try for another session.

“Don’t promise it to me,” she tries to say, but he’s already up the stairs. Emma smiles at his determination.

She realizes how much she’s missed that.

A few days pass, with less flashbacks and panic attacks from Killian’s side, and the day comes for the second session. Emma has to work that day, and David is wracked with guilt for giving her so much to do when he knows that Killian needs her, but she reassures him, in an effort to reassure herself, that they’ll both be fine.

Killian hasn’t really stopped cutting himself, but at least he’s not full-on suicidal, and Emma tries to find some consolation in that. A few times he’d let her heal his cuts, but other times he barely even spoke about it.

It’s late evening when he returns, and Emma is cooking at the time. She turns around to take a good look at him.

“Hi,” he says softly. He looks tired.

“Hi yourself,” she says and approaches him a little, hands on her back pockets, hoping that the eggs won’t burn during the few seconds she’ll leave them unattended. She smiles a little, and he tries to smile back, but it falls too soon. Emma keeps her smile up.

“Did you talk?” she asks.

“Aye, I did.”

Emma feels relief flood in her. She takes a big breath. “How do you feel?”

He doesn’t speak. He only raises his eyes to her and approaches her slowly. Emma already feels her pulse raise, but she stays put and welcoming for him. He raises his hand and caresses her cheek softly. She doesn’t know if she wants to close her eyes and lean into the touch or keep them open and make sure he’s okay through it all.

He takes a few deep breaths, then leans forward and kisses her. She kisses back, careful to not make the kiss deeper than Killian wants. It lasts only a few seconds, and his lips are tense as if he’s pushing himself to kiss her, until he pulls back and lets out a shaky breath on her lips. His face is crestfallen as he steps back and without another word turns to the stairs.

Emma stays frozen for a few moments, until the smell of burnt eggs reaches her nostrils.

He kissed her, and he apparently hated it.

So much for her appetite.

She doesn’t see him for the rest of the night, and she wakes up next morning to find he left a note saying he’ll be on his ship, wanting to stay alone. She texts him an “ok” before she sits back on the couch and waits for the job-free day to pass.

The next days are awkward. He comes back but they barely speak to each other, until Killian decides to go for another session two weeks after his second one. That day he visits Emma at the station right before his appointment. He doesn’t stay long, he just gives her a daffodil and as he says goodbye, Emma sitting at her desk, he leans forward and kisses her head.

Emma looks at the flower and tears prickle her eyes. She looks up to see David smiling at her through the other office door.

“I think he’s really starting to get better,” she says with a smile as her tears fall.

She’s home trying to find a funny film without any harsh jokes that may trigger her when Killian returns. He looks tired again, but not as much as the previous time. He gives her a sad smile and walks to her. Without saying anything, he leans forward again and kisses her. Emma has to hold back with all her power to not attack him with kisses, but luckily the kiss is just soft, short and real. He pulls back before it manages to make him uncomfortable. Still smiling, he goes upstairs to change into his pyjamas and they watch Monsters, Inc.

It’s not much, but it’s a start.

He doesn’t kiss her every day after that. He’s almost stopped cutting himself, but he still has flashbacks now and then, as does she. He has learnt how to treat her flashbacks too, though he very rarely hugs her after. They learn what triggers each other’s flashbacks and try to keep them away.

One day he comes back from the docks with red-rimmed eyes.

“Hey,” Emma says as she notices. “Everything okay?”

“Aye, mostly.”

“You had a flashback?”

Killian nods. “In front of your father.”

Emma swallows hard. He’s only had flashbacks in front of her and Archie - and that one time in front of Snow - and she hasn’t told anyone but David that his keep coming.

“Can you tell me why?”

“I was just walking around, until I saw David looking around the place. He told me someone had informed him of an abandoned dog there and he went searching… I offered to help him and we found the dog... “ He sighs and closes his eyes. “Her leash was tied so tight around a cleat on the dock she could barely move, and…”

Emma nods, coming close enough to him to touch him but not enough to scare him. “That’s enough, if you want to stop there…”

He rubs his face with his hand. “I collapsed right there, I almost had a panic attack. David released the dog and then brought me back. I came to and then asked him why he let the dog go first… and he told me that… that he saw… he saw me, us, in that- that… room…”

He doesn’t seem angry, or upset, just too tired to search for the words. “Killian, you don’t have to push yourself-”

“Did you know? Did he tell you that he saw us?”

His tone is neither demanding nor accusing, but she still swallows hard before she nods.

To her surprise, he simply nods back. “You didn’t tell me…”

“I was hoping David would tell you on his own time, if he thought it could help you.”

He sighs and nods again. “It’s alright. I understand. He said the same thing, he didn’t even mention you, and… I spoke to him, a bit, about it,” he says sheepishly, but a small smile pulls up the corners of his lips.

Emma raises her eyebrows, a small smile forming on her lips as well. “You did? How did it feel?”

“Hard, at first, but I think it helped. I would never believe it would help. I was so scared...” he lets out a laugh as a tear slips down his cheek and he wipes it away. Emma steps forward, and with only slight hesitation - to Emma, that is a victory - he lets her embrace him.

Emma stays up all night from her anxiety at his response to all this, and he sleeps with his door open. He doesn’t cry that night.

They keep going to their sessions. About four months after the incident, Killian has completely stopped cutting and starts spending more time with David outside the house and Emma’s flashbacks are reduced to a minimum.

They kiss almost every day, though only quick pecks and cheek kisses, and Emma is starting to feel upset by how long it’s taking him to come sleep with her in their bed. She knew that there was a high chance Killian will be less willing to have sex but the fact that he doesn’t even want to sleep next to her is worrying her.

And then comes the day where they’re kissing in the kitchen after a delicious breakfast they made together, and it turns deeper and deeper by the moment, until Emma finds herself toying with Killian’s zipper. He feels her touch and almost thrusts forward. Emma breaks the kiss to look at him.

“Are you sure?” she says.

He takes one moment to answer, but eventually he just nods. Emma locks the door with her magic and lowers her pants, then goes for Killian’s zipper. Killian leans forward and kisses her as she opens it, as if he’s trying to stop her from seeing it. Eventually, she feels his erection free from his pants, but pulls her hands back and opens her legs for him.

It’s up to him to set the pace. She’s still kissing him when she feels his erection touch her sensitive area, and she lets out a deep moan. Her breath and heartbeat go faster as she keeps reminding herself to not push Killian. Killian bends his head and starts kissing Emma’s neck, and another moan escapes her. Then he enters her, and it’s like both of them are struck by the same current at the same time. She feels panic rise in her and sees Killian’s shoulders start to shake. He pulls back immediately, his member having gone flaccid in a matter of seconds, then he zips up his pants.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers in a shaky voice before running upstairs.

Emma puts on her own clothes, her previous panic turning into worry. She realizes it’s probably not only him who’s slightly scared by the idea of having sex, and she feels her limbs go numb at her ignorance on how to fix this. She hasn’t spoken to Archie about that yet… and she feels way too insecure to talk about it. How do they find a way to have sex after being forced to do so while being kept captive?

She tries to not think how it’s already been four months since then.

And if all that wasn’t enough, that same night they fall asleep on the couch as they watch TV. Emma wakes up in the middle of the night and looks at the screen… and there’s a scene of a man being raped. Her eyes wide, she turns to Killian. He looks frozen, as if unable to pull his eyes away from the screen, his mouth open and the remote control in his hand. Emma grabs it and turns the TV off, but Killian keeps looking at the screen frozen.

“Killian… that wasn’t real…”

He doesn’t respond, doesn’t even turn his head away. A tear slips down his cheek.

“Killian?”

He doesn’t respond, only his head starts bowing down so slowly she almost misses the movement.

“Are you having a flashback?”

Still no response. She tries, again and again, but he stays unresponsive for a long time, Emma doesn’t count how long it’s been, but when he eventually comes back, he starts crying. Emma caresses the nape of his neck, and tugs ever so slightly but it’s enough for Killian to rest his head on her shoulder.

“Why would they show this? Why would they… in that way?”

“I don’t know. It’s late, they don’t really care about who watches that…”

Emma brushes her fingers through his hair as he cries, the touch comforting her as well as she tries to calm down herself after the sight. It was too real, too real… But Killian is here now, and they’re safe, and they’re getting better.

They fall asleep on the couch that night, hugging each other close. Emma wakes up first the next morning, and she spots Killian is almost shocked to find himself there with her, but he quickly relaxes in her embrace.

However, as Emma stands up to make them some breakfast, Killian walks to the TV and kicks it hard, shattering the screen and shouting as he falls to his knees and cries again.

She could fix it with her magic but she couldn't care less about watching any show right now.

A few days later the incident is forgotten and the TV repaired, but they don’t turn it on at all.

She keeps track of their sessions. They’re both getting better, Emma faster than Killian does, but it’s still hard. All the flashbacks, completely random words and images that can bring any of them down to their knees, their nightmares, and Killian’s almost stubborn insistence to sleep away from her…

Until one day he knocks on her door as she’s preparing for bed. He was out all day again after his session, and she mostly stayed home so he probably knows she’s not that tired…

“Can I sleep with you?” he asks, plain and simple.

Emma sighs in relief despite herself. She knows she shouldn’t make such a big show out of his successful steps so to not inadvertently encourage him to push himself, but this time she can’t help herself.

“Yeah,” she says.

Her doubts of him not wanting sex disappear as soon as he lies down on the bed and kisses her deep and passionately. As he kisses her, he unbuttons his shirt and moves his hand under her tank top.

“Are you sure? Really sure?” Emma asks, breaking the kiss a little.

Killian’s moan sounding inside her mouth is all she needs to let herself go. They make love to each other, and Killian holds nothing back as he pleases her in any way he can. Emma barely holds back her 'I missed you's every time she calls out his name, every time his erection thrusts in and it makes her see stars.

He collapses on her when he finishes, their naked bodies touching each other in every spot.

“I love you, Emma,” Killian whispers in her ear.

“I love you too,” she says back, even more breathless than him.

“I’m sorry it took so long to come back to you.”

She’s been hating hearing him apologize for every little thing all these months, but this time she simply understands. She brushes her fingers through his hair and says, “It doesn’t matter. You’re here now.”

“I was so scared,” he admits in a small voice. “So scared that I would be too broken to ever make love to you again, to ever truly be there for you…”

“You made it, Killian.” She shifts a little, so that she can see his face.

“Aye, this time. I don’t know if I’ll be able to do it again soon.”

“I know,” she says, kissing his cheek. “I know, and I understand.”

They both know they have a long and hard road ahead of them. The pain isn’t going to go away that easily, and they will need more time to heal fully.

But they will. And now they hope and trust in each other to help make their healing as smooth as possible.

They fall asleep with smiles on their faces, their bodies tangled together.

#i write thangs #dirty little sessions #it's over! #content warning #angst #ptsd #healing #plot invasion #dialogue #there's so much seriously #self harm #tw self-injury

[icecubelotr44]

The Darling Affair (18/18+)

Summary:  Ex-military officer Killian Jones has never forgiven the Gold family for what they took from him. But when his path searching for justice (and maybe revenge) leads him straight to Emma Swan, a social worker who’s young charge has just been kidnapped by Malcolm Gold, he might just learn to let go of the past.

Rated:  T, for violence, kidnapping, some dark themes

Art credit/link: The totally awesome @shady-swan-jones took on the story and made some fabulous art for it.  You can see the art here.

Beta and cheerleader: @delightfully-difficult-pirate and @nothingimpossibleonlyimprobable, thanks so much for all of your help and cajoling and reassuring!

(tagging @lenfaz, @xhookswenchx, @bleebug, @kiwistreetswan, @swanspiraterum, @swanslovestruck, @killian-whump, @timeless-love-story, @katie-dub, @ss-captainswan, and @woofiefangirl so they see the chapter is up!)

To whomever nominated this story for the Captain Swan Fanfic Awards, thank you so much!  It means more than you could know.  Everyone should go check out all the categories and vote for your favorites - there are so many awesome stories, artists, and authors!

Word count:  ~5,400 (87K Total in 18 chapters, plus an epilogue that I never intended to add - longer than Chamber of Secrets now)

From the beginning: AO3 / FFN (current chapter: ao3 / ffn) Tumblr: One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen Fourteen Fifteen Sixteen Seventeen

Chapter 18: Affairs in Order

“I think, just this once, brother, that I'll take the ambulance.”

Emma’s breath caught in her throat, her arm unconsciously tightening around Killian’s shoulders.  She couldn’t tear her eyes from the gash on his wrist as his blood seeped through her fingers.  Her body shook with the tremors that coursed through him as he tucked his head more firmly under her chin.

He’d asked for an ambulance.  That fact kept racing around Emma’s brain and leaving a sour taste in her mouth.  She’d seen him shot, heard him sew up his own skin, and nursed him through the aftermath without him thinking he needed any medical attention.  To hear him readily accept help now – and public help at that?  Emma was terrified of what he was hiding.

But Killian’s head was on her shoulder and his voice, while raspy, was soothing her frazzled nerves.

Liam’s men moved systematically around them, cleansing the area or whatever it was they were responsible for.  She didn’t care.  Killian was still sitting in the chair they’d found him in - mostly unaided - but he was fading fast.  He’d been beaten badly and Emma didn’t want to think about what else he’d endured.  The scream they’d all heard was still echoing in her ears, and she was positive that it would feature in her nightmares for weeks to come.

Killian had been terrified, she’d heard it plainly in that agonized yell, and for the first time since Liam had barged into the hotel, Emma had been truly afraid.  Afraid they wouldn’t find him in time.  Afraid of what they would find even if they did make it before Gold killed him.

Afraid that she’d lose Killian before she even had a chance to really have him.

It only took a few more minutes before Liam’s agents disappeared like ghosts and men in navy blue windbreakers emblazoned “FBI” swarmed around them.  Emma paid them no more mind than the Jones brothers did.  She was somewhat aware of her surroundings, but she was far more concerned with the way Killian tensed at every noise.

Then Gold cackled, and Killian whimpered under his breath.

Emma was on her feet before she even realized she’d moved.

“You think this is over, Jones?” Gold hissed, still giggling maniacally.  “You think that you’ve won?  It will only be a matter of time bef-”

Emma shook her hand as pain erupted across her knuckles.  She watched as Gold lifted his head from where it had snapped to the side, still sneering.  Before he could speak again, Emma hauled back and punched him once more.  The sickening sound of bone crunching as his nose spread across his face was satisfying.  The blood that poured down Gold’s face was just a fraction of what he deserved.  She wanted to hit him again.  She wanted to dig her fingers into the bullet wound in his shoulder.  She wanted...

“Emma,” Killian’s soft whisper cut through the haze of red that had taken over her vision.  Her head whipped around, Gold forgotten in the need to hear what Killian wanted - what he needed.

He smiled, the gap in his lip widening, and he cocked his head to the side.  “Come here, love.  Please?”

Like she could deny him anything at the moment.

Forgetting that Gold even existed, Emma crossed the room again, dropping back down next to Killian and tucking herself around his side.  The fingers of her right hand tangled in the sweat-drenched locks at the nape of his neck, her left hand hugging him close to her side.  Killian practically melted into her embrace, his breath rushing out of him in an audible ‘whoosh’ as he finally relaxed completely.

Emma didn’t leave Killian’s side until two EMTs insistently moved her out of the way, and she watched intently from the sidelines as they worked.

Liam refused to move from his brother’s side with a growl that would have cowed even the fiercest of men.

It almost made Emma grin.

Then she remembered the reason for it, and her heart clenched painfully.

Everything had happened so quickly that Emma wasn’t entirely sure she’d caught up yet.  They’d found Killian shortly after she’d shot and maybe killed people.  Robert Gold and the man who had kidnapped Michael back in Boston were both in custody, no longer a threat, and Killian was safe and being looked after.

Killian was hurt, he’d been afraid, he wanted medical care.

He was going to be all right; but Emma wasn’t sure she was okay just yet.

Everything had happened so fast.

The EMT’s were moving Killian onto a gurney before Emma could comprehend everything that she’d seen them do.  There was an oxygen mask on his face and an IV in his arm.  A heavy, woolen blanket was tucked in tightly before he was strapped down, and Emma panicked when they started to wheel him away.

She must have made a noise because both the EMTs and Killian turned to look at her.  Liam smiled softly at her from his place at his brother’s side, and leaned down to listen to Killian’s muffled words.  He nodded at his brother and then cocked his head to the side, meeting her eyes.

“There’s room for two of us in the ambulance if you’re planning on tagging along, lass.  I’d hate to lose track of you after all this.”  There was a bit of wry sarcasm in Liam’s tone, but Emma ignored it in the face of the relief she felt at not having to let Killian out of her sight.

Her need to be near him startled her as she raced to walk on Killian’s right side as they headed for the elevator.  She had spent so long relying on herself and only herself that she still wasn’t entirely sure when Killian had gone and snuck past her defenses.

But he had.  

Emma couldn’t find it in her to worry about it.  Not when he’d done so much, given up so much, to keep his promise to her.  Looking at him now, bruised and beaten but still unbroken, Emma was sure that it was more than enough for her.

The flashing lights of the ambulances and black SUVs hurt her eyes, and she had to blink rapidly as she hurried with Killian.  They loaded him into the back, Liam climbing in with the gurney and one of the EMTs, and Emma stood frozen.

There was no more room for her.

“This way, Miss.”  A soft, Midwestern accent spoke up from her elbow and she turned to see the other medic gesturing to the front of the ambulance.  Her stomach clenched as she walked past the doors and lost sight of Killian.  As quickly as she could, Emma climbed into the front seat and buckled her seatbelt.  

She wanted to be in the back, too.  She needed to see that Killian was all right.  She needed…

“I’m right here, Emma.”  His voice was soft and muffled by the oxygen mask, but when she turned abruptly to look over her shoulder, she could see Killian’s head craning over the top of the gurney.  His blue eyes met hers and her stomach settled.  She smiled back at him and finally relaxed.

It was over.  They were all safe now.

When the ambulance started moving, Killian relaxed into the gurney and their eye contact broke, but Emma found herself still calm.  She could hear the rhythmic beeping of the machines that were monitoring Killian, and she reveled in them.  She watched Liam as he sat on the bench to Killian’s left, still clutching his brother’s hand with both of his own.  The EMT in the back worked around the locked hands, and it was only a few minutes into the ride when Emma saw Killian’s grip go slack.

Liam’s soft smile and the continued steady beeping from the monitors kept her from panicking.  

Killian was finally resting.

The calm lasted until the ambulance pulled into the bay at Northwestern Memorial Hospital.  There was a flurry of activity as Killian was whisked away from them - despite Liam’s protests as his hands were peeled from Killian’s - amidst shouts of tests that needed to be run and equipment that needed to be transferred to “Trauma 3”.  Then, the two of them were left unceremoniously in a waiting room with no information and a mountain of paperwork to fill out.

Emma paced.

Liam sat.

Eventually, a young woman came to move them to a more private waiting room on one of the upper floors of the hospital.  She assured them that someone would be by when there was any information, but that Killian had been admitted.

Emma continued to pace.

Liam sat.

It infuriated her to see him so calm.  His brother was in some unknown state of health after being held captive for days by a man so ruthless that he profited from the trafficking of children.  Killian hadn’t even fought the EMTs when they strapped him down, and now no one would tell them anything.

“How do you do it?”  Emma broke the silence when it seemed as though they would never hear about Killian.  Her voice was sharper than she’d intended, but she let the question hang between them.

Liam looked up from the files one of his agents had dropped off.  “Do what, lass?”

She threw her hands up in the air, staring at him incredulously.  “Do what?  Worry about him!  All the time!  Send him out on missions like this knowing that with the way he is, this is how it’s probably going to end up.  And then just sit there like it’s nothing.  How do you do it?”

Liam shrugged, a wry smile on his face.  “He ain’t heavy.  He’s m’ brother.”

And that was all there was to it, she supposed.  Emma had only known Killian Jones for a few weeks, and she was already certain that he was never going to give it up.  Liam had known him for their whole lives.  He knew he couldn’t change his brother.  So that was what it all boiled down to.  Could Liam accept that this was how Killian thrived?

Could she?

Emma had come into this arrangement convinced that at the end of it, she and Killian would go their separate ways and that would be the end of it.  She didn’t need to learn how to accept Killian’s quirks and self-sacrifices.  It was just business, Gold’s downfall for him and Michael’s safety for her, and nothing else should have come from it.

Nothing else was supposed to come from it.

And now?

Now she wanted to charge down the hall until she found whatever room they had squirreled Killian away in and watch him sleep.  She wanted to take him back to Boston and figure out what came next as it unfolded.  She wanted to know what it was like to worry about him and understand him all at once.

He ain’t heavy.  He’s mine.

Emma wasn’t sure about where they stood, not entirely, but thought she could learn to accept that.

“Family of Killian Jones?”  

The doctor’s curt voice woke Liam from the half-asleep state he’d fallen into some time after dawn had broken.  Emma had finally collapsed into a chair near the window, but judging by the number of Styrofoam cups on the table next to her, she hadn’t slept.  It made him smile to see her care so much.  

His brother needed that.

Maybe he’d been wrong about her, after all.  He’d never tell either of them that, though.

Belatedly, Liam stood up and acknowledged the doctor, internally tamping down the worry that surfaced when he realized exactly how long he’d been sitting in the waiting room… waiting.

“I’m Killian’s brother.  How is he?”  His voice wavered ever so slightly, but the physician smiled gently at him before consulting his chart.  Liam let out the breath that had gotten stuck in his chest.

“My name is Doctor Alan Cooper, I’ve been treating Mr. Jones.  Should we speak somewhere privately?”  Cooper nodded his head at Emma, who had risen and made her way over to them.  Liam could see the worry she was trying to hide - it was written in the brightness of her eyes.

“No,” Liam countered, turning so Emma was more fully involved in the conversation.  “No, she’s with Killian as well.  How is he?”

Cooper accepted this easily.  “Of course.  Well, your brother was very lucky.  I’ve been told, repeatedly, that I don’t ‘need to know’ the circumstances surrounding his injuries.  But from what I can gather, he took several risks with his health that I find concerning.”

Liam nodded, then coughed to cover Emma’s scoff.  He knew there was a bullet wound in Killian’s side that she was intimately aware of.  Not to mention the results of Gold’s work.  Liam saw red at the memory.

Oblivious to Liam’s anger, the doctor continued.  “We’ve admitted your brother for observation of his various injuries.  Our biggest concern at the moment is that he has developed pneumonia, and that, on top of his other issues, puts him at risk for complications.  Beyond that, the gunshot wound to his left flank appears to be at least a week old, and has begun to scar over.  This wound resulted in a small splenic laceration that could have caused severe problems.  We’ll be monitoring that carefully.  He also has a comminuted fracture of his orbital bone, but it seems to be relatively stable.  On top of all that, he appears to be suffering symptoms of a concussion, but we asked him, and he can’t remember how long ago the initial injury occurred so...”

Liam latched onto that even as Cooper listed more of Killian’s injuries.  Killian ‘couldn’t remember’ – but they’d asked him about the concussion.  That meant his brother was conscious.  Liam was okay with everything else.  His little brother had been awake at some point and wasn’t lying half-dead in a coma in a room somewhere.

Emma seemed to hear the same thing Liam had, as she melted into his side with an audible sigh.  Liam smiled down at the ease in which she buried her face in his shoulder, and he could feel the way her whole body shifted as she let some of the stress go.  It seemed perfectly natural to lay his arm over her shoulders and pull her into his side to share their relief.

Killian was going to be okay.

The doctor rattled off a few more issues and admonishments that he couldn’t take a proper history, but then relented and gave them Killian’s room number.

Liam was pretty sure he thanked Cooper for everything he’d done, but couldn’t actually remember the conversation as he and Emma raced down the hall.

Killian looked small.

It was a notion he hadn’t associated with his brother since long before he’d entered the Navy, since Killian was a young miscreant intent on taking on the world with his fists and his anger.  Now, lying in a hospital bed and attached to several machines and IV drips, there was no other description that fit.

He looked impossibly small.

But Killian’s non-swollen eye was open, if heavy-lidded, and the oxygen mask over his mouth and nose did little to disguise the half-drunk smile at seeing the two of them.  His little brother was clearly high as a kite.

The fist that had been clenching at Liam’s heart since Emma had called him in a panic finally let go.

Killian needed time to heal, yes, but he was going to be just fine.

Killian was somewhat aware of the time he spent in the ambulance with Liam at his side, then of the terror that gripped him when they were separated in the emergency room, then of the apathy that overtook him as sedatives coursed through him.  He slept through being admitted, content to rest now that he was blanketed by an unrelenting feeling of safety.  His drug-addled brain couldn’t pinpoint how he knew he was safe.  Just that he was.

Now, in a room that smelled of disinfectant, Killian floated above the pain and the fear of his memories.

There’s something to this whole ‘convalescing in a hospital’ lark, he thought idly as he traced the fascinating pattern on the thin blanket covering him.  For one, the drugs were far better than what he routinely pilfered from Whale’s stock whenever the physician’s back was turned.  For another, despite the baleful glares that the doctor assigned to his care kept giving him, no one was actively trying to kill him at the moment.  If he ignored the pain in his chest every time he tried to breathe and the incessant questions that he couldn’t answer until his brother had given him leave, he wasn’t bothered by too much at the moment.

But there was something he was missing.  Something that was flitting about just out of reach; something important that the drugs wouldn’t let him remember.

So he slept.

They poked and prodded.  They asked him questions he either didn’t want to or couldn’t answer.  They x-rayed and scanned and drew blood.  And he floated along with it, unsure if he should be concerned with the number of tests that were going on around him.  Now that the adrenaline rush was abating, he hurt and he felt ill.  He wanted to curl up in a ball and lick his wounds in private.

But they kept pumping him with medications and asking him questions and trying to make him take deep breaths.

Didn’t they understand that breathing hurt?

He wanted his brother to come and make them stop.  There were times when he hated that Liam insisted on reminding him he was the “little brother”, but right now what Killian really wanted was for his big brother to step in and make it stop.  

Make them leave him alone.

He was partially sure that the drugs were lowering his inhibitions to an extreme extent, and he was just thankful that no one was privy to his internal monologue just then.  

Liam would never let him live that down.

So he slept.

When Killian woke again, he had been moved to a private room and there was only a nurse in the room, monitoring his vitals.  Some of the haze of the past few hours had faded, and there was a bit of light peeking through under the shade.  The young woman was pretty enough, but her blonde hair finally reminded him of what he had been missing earlier.

Emma.

He wanted to see Emma.

Killian didn’t remember what happened to her after the EMTs showed up.  Liam had stayed with him until it went dark in the ambulance, and he knew his brother would be close by even now.  But had Emma gone back to Boston?  Or was she waiting with Liam?

He tried to get the nurse’s attention, but his garbled speech just made her smile as she walked out of the room.  Killian tried to glare at her retreating back, but he couldn’t muster the energy.

Besides, Liam would be here soon, and he would know where Emma was.

So he slept.

Killian wasn’t asleep for long, the uncomfortable feeling of the mask on his face and the dry oxygen keeping him from a deep sleep.  There were beeping monitors to his right and adhesive tape pulling on his skin every time he moved.  The medicine pumping through the IV was keeping most of his discomfort at bay, but they had definitely lowered the dosage to the point where he was able to string multiple thoughts together and he wasn’t enthralled with the shiny patterns dancing around him any longer.

And then he saw them.  

Emma and Liam, beaming like bloody morons from the doorway.  There was a haunted look in their eyes, only half hidden by the grins, so he tried to smile back at them in reassurance.

“You’re an idiot.”  Emma broke the silence first, and Killian nodded amicably.

He smirked.  “You’ve told me that before, love.  At least you didn’t have to haul me across a room this time?”  His voice was muffled by the mask and he reached to take it off.

The twin glares from his brother and his… and from Emma stopped Killian’s hand midway to his face.  He slowly dropped his hand back to his side, not wanting to provoke either of them.

Maybe there wasn’t much to this convalescing in a hospital lark after all.

The quiet of the private room in the hospital was mildly unnerving to Emma.  She could see people moving out in the corridor through the windows, but the closed door shut out all the noise.  The only things she could hear were the various machines whirring and beeping, and Killian’s breaths.

And Liam’s snores in the corner of the room where he was sprawled on the small couch under the window.

Emma rolled her eyes at him.

But she was thankful for Liam, too.  He’d basically browbeat the hospital staff into moving Killian to a private room and then told them in no uncertain terms that ‘visiting hours’ didn’t apply to himself or Emma.

Protective custody, he’d called it.  National security, he’d claimed with a badge that Emma was sure had no actual pull.

Gift horses and mouths and all that, however, she mused as she watched Killian’s chest rise and fall.

His hair was plastered to his forehead, the fever he’d been battling for the past few days sapping most of his energy.  He had woken a few times in various stages of awareness, but mostly he slept.

Emma hadn’t left his side for longer than a few minutes since the hospital had acquiesced to Liam’s ‘requests’.

Then again, neither had Liam.

It hadn’t taken the two of them long to fall into an unconscious schedule, working in shifts to make sure that one of them was always awake in case Killian needed something.  Most times it was a hand to hold as he struggled to wake from his nightmares.  Occasionally, it was a sip or two of water when his voice croaked as he asked after them.  All too often, it was an arm behind his back to lift him up and brace him as he caught his breath against the coughs that stole it.

Far too many times for Emma’s piece of mind, it was a fierce hug as he gasped awake, the terror in his eyes all too real as he struggled to separate reality from memory.  Those times, when Killian buried his face in the crook of her neck and gripped the back of her shirt with as much strength as he could muster, Emma put her own fears and insecurities aside as she hushed him and cuddled him close.

He needed the comfort far more than her walls needed their distance.

“Emma!  No!”  Killian’s cry echoed through the quiet and she was sitting on the mattress by Killian’s hip even before he could sit up fully.  Emma pulled him forward, tucking his head under her chin and wrapping her arms around him before he could reach for her.  Killian’s shoulders heaved as he started to hack - short, barky coughs that stole his breath.  He shivered, tremors shaking his whole body that Emma could feel as she ran her hand up and down his back.  She caught Liam’s eye when he made to get up and she shook her head - she had this, he could sleep some more.

“Shhh, Killian, you’re safe.  I’m here,” she whispered, her hands gentle as they soothed him.  Emma could feel the fever burning through him, could hear the hitched breaths, could see the goosebumps on his bare back.

“You’re safe, you’re safe, you’re safe.”  Killian’s manic whisper, breathed out against her collarbone, broke her heart.  It wasn’t the first time he’d replaced himself with her in his nightmares.

“I’m safe.  You kept me safe, Killian.  It’s all right now,” she whispered back.  Emma reached behind her for the blanket to drape over his shoulders before he could catch cold.

The audible whimper and the tensing of his entire body when she let go of him shattered what was left of her heart.  “Shhh,” Emma soothed, throwing the material quickly over his shoulders and hugging him close.

Killian relaxed immediately in her grip.

Emma wasn’t sure how long they sat there, with him tangling his fingers in her shirt and her burying her nose in his hair.  It seemed that time around them stopped until Killian finally sagged, his energy spent.  She eased him back against the pillows, keeping him close until the last instant.

Killian wasn’t the only one who needed the physical reminder that they were here and safe.

With a kiss to his brow, Emma tried to sit back, wanting just another moment at his side before she returned to the uncomfortable chair to resume her vigil.

Killian refused to let go.

Emma struggled for a moment to wiggle out of his grip, certain that he’d fallen asleep before she’d lowered him down.  “Kil-”

“-Stay,” he whispered in her ear, tightening his grip as much as he was able.

Emma huffed out a breath when his words registered.  “I don’t think-”

“-Please?” Emma could hear the note of uncertainty in his voice, like he wasn’t sure he had the right to ask.

Well, what was she supposed to do when he sounded like that?

Emma shifted around until her back didn’t feel like she was twisted in a pretzel, her head under his chin and her arms wrapped around his torso.  There was no way she wasn’t pressing against some injury or other, no way that Liam or the doctors or the nurses weren’t going to have some protest against this new arrangement.

But Killian’s breathing eased and his grip slackened as she felt his relief as palpably as if it had coursed through her instead of him.  She forced herself to stay awake until his breathing evened out and his soft snores harmonized with Liam’s from across the room.  Once she was sure he was asleep, she closed her eyes with a fierce thought.

They’d have to pry Killian out of her cold, dead fingers before she’d leave his embrace as long as he wanted her there.

Killian was just done with it all.  

He was done with the nurses and their constant attention, the doctors and their constant disapproval of his escape attempts.  He was done with his brother’s incessant coddling and his… and Emma’s smug smile as she dared him to prove he was “just fine” as he continuously claimed.

He wasn’t fine.  

He knew that.

Perhaps he’d just like someone to pretend for a moment.  Or two.

The pulmonary lung function tests that the therapists tortured him with on a relatively structured basis told him exactly how poorly he was still doing in objective numbers.  His face was still badly swollen, the burns itched, he was sure he could feel every bone as it knit back together, and he was all-around miserable.

But Liam had pulled some strings, and as soon as the respiratory terrorists – as he’d come to call them in his head – were placated, he was being transported via medical transport back to Boston.  Whale was waiting for him with a litany of his own tests and restrictions, Killian was sure, but at least he’d be on his own turf.

And Emma had barely left his side.  Liam had offered to send her home after the first few touch and go days, but she’d refused.  She had started out as Killian’s partner, she told his brother, and so she was going to end it the same way.

It took a few more days, and more than a little cajoling, but Killian was able to walk from one end of the corridor to the other without oxygen, his fever had stayed broken for more than 48 hours, and his lung functions were “passable”.  The medical staff agreed that he was well enough to be transported to Whale’s care.

He was going home.

Drugged up beyond belief, apparently, if the fact that he was sitting in a wheelchair in Logan Airport before he realized they’d taken off from Chicago was any indication.  Part of Killian was convinced that the doctors at Northwestern had given him so much medication as revenge for all the trouble he had caused; the rational part of him was glad he didn’t remember the flight.

He bore the use of the wheelchair with ill-disguised distaste.  He had been itching to walk out of the airport on his own, but the looks on Liam and Emma’s faces disabused him of that inclination.

Killian heard Michael before he saw him.  The little boy yelled for Emma, then tore free of Wendy’s grip and bolted across the floor until he was wrapped around Emma’s legs.  His sister came up at a more sedate pace and behind her was the couple Killian had seen only briefly in the hospital all those weeks ago – the ones concerned that Emma had signed herself out AMA after being attacked by Malcolm.

“Emma!”  The petite woman with black hair called out with a high-pitched squeal as she followed Michael’s example and wrapped Emma in a hug.  Her husband followed suit, cradling the back of her blonde head protectively as his other arm wrapped around both women.  “Graham couldn’t tell us anything.  We’ve been so worried!”

“I know,” Emma spoke into their shoulders, “I’m sorry.  How did you know I was here?”

“I thought you might want them here, so I called them, lass,” Liam interjected, reaching out to shake the man’s outstretched hand.  “You must be David and Mary Margaret?”

David replaced his hand on the back of Emma’s head and Killian smiled at the gesture.  The couple were protecting her from anything and everything, and he was glad to see that someone other than him wanted that for her.

It took her a minute, but eventually Emma stepped back from her whispered conversation and stepped up to his side.  “This is Killian.  He’s the reason we were able to get Michael back.  He’s the reason we found Wendy.”

Mary Margaret stepped forward and surprised him.  She reached down and hugged him tightly.  “Thank you for bringing them all home.”

He smiled in response, but could feel the tips of his ears heat up.  He didn’t think he deserved the thanks.  

Emma and Liam had saved him.

“What is it you do exactly, Killian?”  David asked, reaching forward to shake his hand.  There was a sharp edge to his words.

Killian looked to Liam.  This was why he preferred to fade into the background.

“He’s a freelance hero.”  Emma cut in with a smile, her eyes sparkling with laughter and deflecting the seriousness of the question easily.

Killian laughed until he started coughing.  It took him a moment to catch his breath, her hand rubbing his back until he could sit up straight.  Unable to let her best him, however, he countered with, “You make me sound like I have tights and a cape, love.”

David and Mary Margaret looked a bit perplexed, but let it go as Michael and Wendy came forward to shake his hand as well.  He was surprised when Michael climbed into his lap and curled against his chest.

“Thank you for saving me,” he whispered into Killian’s ear.  

He had to bite his tongue to keep the tears at bay.  “Of course, lad.”

“Can I have a ride?” the boy asked innocently, grinning when Killian nodded.

It hurt far less than Killian would have imagined when he realized Michael’s smile matched John’s exactly.  He settled the boy more securely and let Liam push them both towards the exit.

It took them another few minutes before they made it out to the waiting SUV and Killian could feel his strength waning.  He wanted nothing more than to sink into the front seat and nap until they got back to the brownstone.  To his own bed.  

To his home.

But as Liam shut the passenger side door after making sure Killian was set, he realized that, of course, Emma wasn’t following.  For the first time since he’d saved her from… since she’d saved herself from her burning apartment, they weren’t going the same way.

His phone rang with a text.  It was an unknown number.

Your brother better not have lost my blanket!

Killian laughed so hard that his ribs protested.

They were going to be just fine.

So, I kind of sorta maybe (unintentionally) misled you all a couple weeks ago when I said that I wouldn’t be able to post this chapter last week because it was the holidays.  As I was rereading it after I posted chapter 17, I discovered that I disliked approximately 90% of how I wrote this chapter originally.  I knew I wasn’t going to be happy with it if I posted as is, so with the holidays, I wasn’t going to have time to rewrite it.  After Christmas, I sat down and rewrote pretty much the entire chapter and, in doing so, kind of sorta maybe wrote so much more into it that I added an entire chapter’s length.  The epilogue-y bit that was SUPPOSED to go at the end of this chapter kind of sorta maybe will be posted either next Wednesday or the Wednesday after.  Since it’s likely going to be almost (if not completely) as long as this chapter was.

#cs ff #csbigbang #emma swan #liam jones #killian jones #csbb #my fic #darling affair ff #the end #you know except for the actual end #that I need to rewrite and tweak and edit and all the things to

[ao3feed-cherik]

Whatever it Takes

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2n4YGyc

by OncerPotter_2016

Charles goes missing some day and Erik soon becomes desperate. He will do anything to get him home. He'll do whatever it takes. Whatever means necessary to bring Charles home. Back to him.

Words: 438, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Series: Part 1 of Taken AU

Fandoms: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con

Categories: M/M, Multi

Characters: Charles Xavier, Erik Lehnsherr, Sebastian Shaw, Emma Frost, Janos Quested, Azazel (X-Men), Raven | Mystique, Moira MacTaggert, Alex Summers, Sean Cassidy, Angel Salvadore, Logan (X-Men)

Relationships: Erik Lehnsherr/Charles Xavier, Charles Xavier/Other(s)

Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt No Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Torture, Aftermath of Torture, Blood and Torture, Gags, Painful Sex, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rape Recovery, Rape Aftermath, Sad with a Happy Ending, Shaw Being a Manipulative Bastard, Shaw Being Evil, Shaw is Creepy, Hurt Charles, Hurt Erik Lehnsherr, Protective Erik, Bottom Charles, Poor Charles, Poor Erik, Erik has Feelings, Erik is not a Happy Bunny, Erik Logic Is The Best Logic, Angry Erik, Alternate Universe, Warning for Shaw, Tissue Warning, You Have Been Warned, Tumblr Prompt, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, Don't Like Don't Read, Smut, Whump, Revenge

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2n4YGyc

#IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic #Cherik feed #Cherik fanfic #Cherik

[hollyethecurious]

Back at you, though I'll see your answer tomorrow because I really gotta go to bed! How much whump is too much whump?

Sorry I didn’t get to this until now!

You and I have similar boundaries. I am not a fan of body horror, or trauma that it so extreme I cannot plausibly reconcile a full(ish) recovery - either physically, mentally, or emotionally. Really want to rewrite part 2 of Burden as I feel I went overboard with Killian’s trauma in comparison to the aftermath with Emma, and it royally bugs me.

I don’t have an issue with death of the whumpee as long as it isn’t permanent. Flat lines, but then brought back because the caregiver(s) refuse to admit defeat? Yes. Magically revived? Okay. Sci-fi option of freezing the whumpee or suspending their condition until a treatment can be found? I’m good with it. Character dies, but by some fuckery of science, time, or magic a double now exists? Yes, so long as they can explain/justify it well. Like Fitz in AoS.

Also, I’m not too fussed over the idea of whump for whump sake, but angst for angst sake it something I personally tire of easily.

Blow Up My Inbox!

(feel free to send other variations of FMK!)

#ask game #whump #lillpon