#iTS ALMOST DAYBREAK FFS

[x-infernhoes-x]

Dangerous Game- Dominic x Reader [SMUT]

Dominic aka Hot Aswang Leader, Abswang, Zadddy Aswang x Reader

Warnings (?):  Smut, Blood, Biting, Implied Relationship, Implied Consent, Dominic being slightly possessive? M A R K I N G S, Oral (female receiving), THEY BE GOING AT IT NON-STOP

Genre: Good Ol’ Fashioned Forbidden Love (if there’s a genre like that LMAO)

Description: I wrote this at 3:40 am last night while listening to Dangerous Game from the Broadway Musical, Jeykll and Hyde and my brain immediately went, why not coconut? So have this little brain fart I just got when I’m supposed to be sleeping. Come get y’alls juice Dominic simps. Also, reader is AFAB but I’ll try my hand at a gender-neutral one if ever I get possessed by the spirits of determination, diligence and inspiration. Also included a Bridgerton reference there and maybe an Ang Darling Kong Aswang reference too kasi why the fuck not.

PS. I’ve managed to finish this up sometime around 2:45 am today and yes I did sleep last night/yesterday and no, I didn’t spend my whole weekend writing this fic. Maybe.

He knew this was all sorts of wrong from the start and yet here he was, standing within the bed chambers of the woman he burns for more than anything in this world and a strong and almost otherworldly desire that only could be satiated by being with her. Dominic knew that his kind and his lover’s kind would be at odds due to how their nature was as a creature of the night to prey on humans. Although despite this, he was feeling hopeful that his relationship with his beloved would last. As the Aswang Prince, he was well aware that was happening around the clans he ruled over and he also knew of the union of Elisa who happened to be one of his people and her now husband, Victor. He also knew about the bloodshed that had taken place during that time and how it led to the civil unrest and rebellion within the tribes of his kind that rages on up until this day.

The wind from the open window where he had come from seemed to rage on and about outside as if there was a storm brewing. There before him stood (y/n) clad in her sleepwear with her back facing him, dark eyes wide in disbelief and brows furrowed in uncertainty and the Aswang Prince could tell from the way she stood and presented herself that she was thinking about the same thing as him. Shrugging off his coat, he then took a step forward towards his beloved who seemed to be unmoving before him, strong arms wrapped around her shoulders, his sharp nails gently running down the tense woman’s arms, back before halting to a stop on her neck and stomach with a gentle yet vice-like grip, his face gently nuzzling against her warm skin, breathing in her scent like a drug.

I feel your fingers- Brushing my shoulder- Your tempting touch, As it tingles my spine- Watching your eyes As they invade my soul- Forbidden pleasures I'm afraid to make mine.

“D-Dominic, what are you doing…?” His lover would ask, trying her best to pull herself away from the prince, breath hitched in her throat, soft lips trapped in between her teeth. “Hindi natin tong pwedeng ipagpatuloy….delikado na.” Tilting her head towards him, Dominic responded to her, breath ghosting over her lips, “I know…Pero wala na akong pakilam kung mahuli pa tayong dalawa.” Before he would bestow his lover a searing and passionate kiss hotter than the flames of hell and the santelmo could ever conjure, his hands relinquishing their hold upon her throat as they made their way down past her shoulders, breasts and stomach only to disappear between the valley of her thighs where his fingers would make quick work of her folds, already dripping wet with her arousal, making his lover groan out in pleasure, his hips bucking against her backside.

At the touch of your hand- At the sound of your voice- At the moment your eyes meet mine- I am out of my mind- I am out of control- Full of feelings I can't define!

With Dominic’s left hand still relentlessly working upon his lover’s heat, he could feel (Y/N)’s hands attempt to push him away once more, her chest heaving and skin flushed a deep red, letting out a fragile keen of his name escape her lips before he took a step back once he felt her tug on his jeans, a hint for him to take off what was left of his clothing, the thick plume of desire that once clouded his mind seemed to dissipate when he felt his own arousal escape the confines of his now discarded garments as he let out a moan of his own once he saw (Y/N) drop her night dress to the ground, awakening something primal within him, eyes drinking in every single curve, dip and imperfections that his lover had. To him, (Y/N) was the most beautiful woman he had set his sights on regardless of what she would say and it was pretty ironic to say that an Aswang like him was starting to believe that God was real and that God was definitely a woman that took the form of his lover who was perfect in every way.

It's a sin with no name- Like a tiger to tame And my senses proclaim It's a dangerous game!

With their lips pressed together in a heated kiss that seemed to drive them both wild, the raven haired Prince of the night drew back with a low snarl, his teeth trapping her lips between his enough to draw blood as he pulled away with a smirk, the dark red liquid staining both of their lips as he spoke, voice raspy and deep, “I’ll make sure that you’ll only feel me and only me tonight and leave marks on your skin as a symbol of my love. Sa akin ka lang at ako sayo, naiintindihan mo ba?” his words seemed to send chills down the quivering woman’s spine as he dragged his sharp nails down against her soft flesh, his lips and occasionally his tongue and fangs would trail lower and lower, his face disappearing between her legs, eating her out like a starved beast, his nose brushing against the soft bundle of nerves, hands gripping her thighs and hips tightly with his unnatural strength, his nails dug into her flesh, which left miniscule bleeding marks where Dominic held her, his eyes boring into hers, drinking in the sounds (Y/N) made like fine wine.

It's a sin with no name- Like a tiger to tame And my senses proclaim It's a dangerous game! A darker dream That has no ending Something unreal That you want to be true.

They’ve done this a million of times but Dominic would never get tired of hearing his lover’s needy pleas for him whenever they made love like this, his fingers would tease her entrance relentlessly, watching her squirm and thrash upon her mattress with an almost sadistic delight. He loved how she would beg for him, how her body reacted to his fervent touches and how breathless she would get after he would kiss her. He loved every second of it and it was safe to say that Dominic was proud of himself to be able to make his beloved to become like this and all for his eyes only. After a few more flicks of his devilishly talented tongue, Dominic then pulled away a grin plastered on his face while his partner mewled rather pathetically, almost as if to ask him why he ceased his relentless teasing just as she was this close on reaching her much needed release and was surprised to feel two of his fingers enter her, curling and twisting inside of her clenching walls that made Dominic groan the same time his love had yelped and screamed his name out like a desperate prayer and all at once his fingers came out of her with a satisfying ‘pop’, admiring how her juices coated his fingers and glistened in the dim lighting of her room like ambrosia.

A strange romance Out of a mystery tale The frightened princess Doesn't know what to do!

Does she just run away? Does she risk it and stay? Either way, there's no way to win! All I know is, I'm lost And I'm counting the cost My emotions are in a spin! And though no one's to blame...

“Here, have a taste of yourself.” Dominic stated, pressing his fingers against (Y/N)’s lips, which of course the overstimulated woman took in with such eagerness, sucking on his digits like how she would suck on a lollipop, her gaze hazy and pupils blown, almost turning themselves as dark as the night and that was enough for Dominic to enter her without warning but had enough preparation for him, her moans silenced by the fingers that were still in her mouth, her tongue now swirling around them making him growl against the junction of her shoulder and neck, his fangs piercing the skin there as well before he pulled his fingers away from her mouth, replacing it with his own, not minding the slight metallic taste from the incisions he had left a few moments ago.

It's a crime and a shame! But it's true, all the same It's a dangerous game!

No one speaks- Not one word- All the words are in our eyes Silence speaks Loud and clear- All the words we want to hear! It was an all lips, tongue and teeth type of kiss that seemed to flare both of their senses up into overdrive and making the lovers both drunk and high off of the euphoria they were sharing. Both of their bodies rocking against each other, their hands grasping whatever their fingers could touch, grab and tug at. Dominic could feel (Y/N)’s nails run down from his shoulders and down to his back, edging him to go as fast as he could on her, his hair sticking haphazardly onto his now sweaty skin, hips furiously slamming into her with no breaks at all. Dominic was living for it and this action alone made him hoist (Y/N)’s leg up to rest upon his shoulder while the other one snuck behind her, reeling the woman in closer by her haunches, both of them moaning in delight. At that moment they both couldn’t care less about the sounds they made, the important thing was that they were both here together, regardless of what the consequences that would soon bestow upon them.

What happened next between them was all a blur save for the things they’ve done in one whole night. Dominic took (Y/N) to great heights with him making love to her continuously, he had her pressed against the wall with him taking her from behind, on the floor, on her dresser, on every possible surface and position he could think of down to the point where the two of them did it in front of the mirror where he would watch his length disappear within her and the way her breasts would bounce every single time he would thrust into her, his hand would grip on her throat and would tighten slightly, lips would ghost over her ear whispering a string of curses and words that would give Satan himself a run for his money and his lover would respond to every word he would say with a moan or a mantra of his name and it was a sign that she was close, coming for whatever time that night and he was nearing his climax too from the way he was holding her against him.

I am losing my mind- I am losing control- Full of feelings I can't define! It's a sin with no name Like a tiger to tame and though no one's to blame It's a crime and a shame And the angels proclaim It's a dangerous game!

“D-dom, I-I’m close!!” (Y/N) cried out with tears in her eyes the moment Dominic had thrown her upon her bed, her toes curling and hands balled up into fists, . “Then come with me, my love. I w-want to see you break.” The prince would respond as he pulled her into a tight embrace, still rocking against her like there was no tomorrow and soon enough, they both came together leaving (Y/N) mumbling out his name like a babbling child, her insides coated with his own juices as she shakily held into her, both trembling from the extreme ecstasy they both felt.

Once they both had come down from their respective highs, the Aswang Leader could only pull his face back from its previous position from (Y/N)’s shoulder, his touch soft and light as he brushed away some strands away from her face with a soft smile as the two basked in the afterglow of their passionate love making, the two would merely hold entwine each other’s hands as a silent promise to never let go of each other before Dominic pressed a sweet kiss upon it. “Mahal kita.” He spoke firmly, eyes full of love, warmth and vulnerability that only she was allowed to see as the female responded with a kiss and a soft smile before saying, “Mahal din kita, Dominic.”  And soon the two lovers fell asleep, with their bodies pressed up against each other.

It's a dangerous game! Such a dangerous game...

[artistic-writer]

Fragments of Home :: CS AU :: E :: Chapter 10

Title: Fragments of Home by @artistic-writer

Summary: Emma Swan must return home to her childhood town of Storybrooke when her mother dies and stays in the house left to her and her brother, David Nolan. Emma must juggle a temporary job at the hospital with her loss, something that has made her feel smaller than she ever was. When a tall, dark, handsome stranger comes into her life in the most unexpected way, and she begins to fall in love, will she stay in Storybrooke, or return to her new life back in New York?

Rating: E

Previous: Ch 1 - Ch 2 - Ch 3 - Ch 4 - Ch 5 - Ch 6 - Ch 7 - Ch 8 - Ch 9

Also on: AO3 - FF

A/N: 2 for 1 on story updates! Woo!  This one is a bit shorter than the last, which was a monster compared to others, but I warn you, this chapter has lots of feels and a plot twist squeezed into its modest length.  My chatbox is awaiting your yelling. Many thanks to my lovely beta, @kmomof4 who persuaded me that this would work as a CS fic in the first place. 

I don’t think it would be a problem, but just in case, this chapter features graphic descriptions of extubation. Readers be advised.

Taglist: @kmomof4 @resident-of-storybrooke @thislassishooked @hollyethecurious @deathbycaptainswan @branlovesouat @delightfully-difficult-pirate @flipperbrain @wordsmith-storyweaver @jennjenn615 @doodlelolly0910 

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“Stop it,” Killian grumbled, peeling one eye open to look at Emma. She smiled sweetly and watched the particles of dust flutter in the sunlight spreading itself across Killian's face. He squinted and rolled over onto his side with a groan, his face pressing itself into the cool, crisp pillow. Emma was laying on her front, propped up on her elbows, her entire body glowing in the daybreak sunlight as she laid beside him naked.

“Stop what?” Emma whispered, shuffling herself forward so she was closer to him. Killian could smell her and inhaled deeply with a yawn, savouring the way she invaded his senses with her familiar post-coital scent. Finally opening both eyes, Killian's gaze flicked over her body with a smirk, the smoothness of her behind absorbing the heat of the sun. Instinct told Killian to reach out and his hands itched to feel her skin against his.

“You seem to have an obsession with watching me sleep,” he quipped huskily. Killian's hand snaked out of the crisp white sheets and brushed a lock of Emma's sun drenched hair behind her ear. It was soft and messy, but unmistakably that which he enjoyed so much.

Emma leaned into Killian touch, shivering as he trailed his long, skilled fingers down her neck. Emma's eyes fluttered closed and the familiar, welcome ache in her bones crept up her spine. “But I like-,” Emma gulped, her words cut off when Killian's lips made contact with her skin as he kissed her arm, humming with a smirk when he heard her gasp.

Killian rolled his weight forward, pushing gently against Emma’s shoulder, his hand drawing lazy circles on the delicate skin. The room was warm, even warmer in the sunlight that tumbled across the whiteness of the bedsheets, and Emma fell backwards onto the downy pillows with a silent laugh. Killian's fingers danced down her arm, jumping to the soft curve of the side of her breast where his hands paused against her skin.

“You like?” Killian teased, watching Emma's expression as she writhed beneath his touch. Emma's back arched off the bed, pressing the hardness of her blushed nipples into Killian's palms, his breath ghosting over the buds.

Emma gulped, squeezing her eyes tightly closed when she felt the longing between her thighs ignite. Her skin burned but she wasn't sure if it was because Killian set her ablaze with passion or the sun had crept to her side of the bed already. Killian smirked, rolling Emma's nipple under his thumb and leaning down to kiss at the sensitive skin of her collarbone. Emma's hair tickled at his face, catching in the week old growth that littered his jaw.

“Killian,” Emma whimpered, her voice barely audible through his kisses. “Don't stop,” she breathed, her hands reaching for his head and holding his lips to her skin with a firm grip in his sleep messed hair.

“I’ll never stop,” Killian panted against her, the words leaving a damp residue on her skin as he made his way down her throat.

“Don't leave me,” Emma whispered and Killian frowned against her sternum, her words confusing him as he tore his mouth from her skin, noticing the room had been dulled by the sunlight disappearing. Killian pulled back to look down at Emma, her skin turning ashen and grey under his touch and he pulled his fingers away as it changed, rolling away from her and panic filling his body.

“Don't let me go,” Emma pleaded, her eyes filling with the salty water of tears.

“I won't,” Killian stammered, shaking his head. His heart beat faster in his chest, thundering painfully in his ears and his eyes tried desperately to focus on Emma's as they crumbled from her face.

“Don't give up on me,” Emma's words echoed, almost distant despite her being so close to him. Killian flushed hot, jumping from the bedsheets as Emma's lithe figure began to twist and distort before him. Her already pale skin turned darker, cracks visibly appearing like dark chasms all over her body and when Emma reached out a precariously fragile hand, her fingers began to fall away, leaving a sprinkle of dark, black and white ash on the pristine bedsheets.

“Emma!” Killian shouted, the room falling dark around him. The perfect, white window frame fell away, falling from view with a cracking sound. The ceiling pulled away and Killian watched it fly off into a never ending sky, overcast with blackness and rumbling with thunder. Killian took a shaky step back, watching the previously inviting wooden flooring beneath his feet splinter and shard in all directions.

“Killian.” Emma's voice faded away, further and further on each pleading gasp. “Killian,” she cried, the sound barely leaving her mouth before her beautiful face dissolved into a volcanic heap on the pillow.

“Killian!” His name echoed loudly in the air, clashing with the roll of thunder and a flash of lightning. Killian flinched at the sound and he saw a flash of white behind his eyes as he pinched them closed and let the world swallow him whole.

Killian jumped in his seat, his head slipping from his hand and jolting him awake. It was a nightmare, so vivid and real to him that Killian's body had responded by sweating and sticking his shirt to his skin. After hours of waiting, worrying, the material had become as ragged and aged as Killian felt. He blinked rapidly, flashes of Emma's charred remains and shrieks of despair ingrained on his memory. Killian never wanted to feel the loss he did right now, and it had only been a dream that had made him feel this way. The reality of right now was far scarier.

The slow hum of machines and the rhythmic beep of Emma's monitored heartbeat filled the room, reminding Killian where he was. He glanced around and noticed the darkness outside of the window, the town lights of Storybrooke like amber candles along the streets. A few noises outside of the room caught his attention, and Killian snapped his head in the direction of two talking doctors, discussing a patient beyond the huge glass doors. The privacy curtains were pulled together, but he could make out their conversation through a tiny gap in the rough, white material.

Killian relaxed back into his seat, his hot skin cooling against the vinyl. “It was only a dream,” he told himself tiredly. Killian sighed, covering his face with his slightly sweaty hands and dragging them over his face with a yawn. His mind raced with the image of Emma fading to ash again and hot goosebumps prickled his skin. Killian cast a weary, sorrowful glance upon the real Emma before him and couldn't fight the pang in his heart.

Emma was still unconscious, her features unchanged and the machine still breathing for her with a forced rise and fall of her chest. Her skin was pale, slightly swollen around her eyes and cheeks, but she was there, real and palpable. So many of Killian's questions remained unanswered by her silence and with each huff of the ventilator, his heart wrenched in his chest. Killian grabbed the warm, wooden handles on the chair and shuffled it forward, bumping his knees against the plastic bed frame, ignoring the dull pain shooting through his legs. He laid his hand on Emma's arm, drawing deliberate lines across her forearm with his thumb. Even in slumber, Emma's body reacted to his touch, and her skin turning tiny bumps under his fingertips.

“Oh, Emma,” Killian breathed, lifting Emma's heavy hand from the sheets and kissing her knuckles. There was a small graze to the skin there, probably inflicted when she fell, and Killian wished he had been able to catch her. Killian would always catch her if she let him. The scuffed skin had started to heal already and Killian wondered how long he had been asleep. He tilted his wrist, and flashed a glance at his watch, the smeared glass face reflecting his tired features back at him. It was seven in the evening; nine hours since Emma had fainted.

“Come back to me,” he breathed faintly, giving her hand a tiny squeeze. “I need you to be alright.”

The door to Emma's room was suddenly pulled open and a doctor breezed in, his head tilted down and his eyes busily searching over Emma's electronic notes in front of him. His white coat whipped behind him and a short, blonde nurse that followed him slid the glass door closed behind them. He was probably nearing retirement, his balding head littered with only the smallest smattering of silvery grey fuzz. Killian reluctantly dropped Emma's hand and stood up from his chair awkwardly, pushing it back from the bed with a scraping noise. He barely had time to dry the clamminess from his hands on his pants before the Doctor offered him a hand.

“I'm Dr Mendez,” he chirped, not letting his gaze meet Killian's once.

“Killian.” Killian gave him his hand and they shook stiffly. “Killian Jones.”

“How is our patient doing?” Dr Mendez asked half to Killian and half to the nurse at his side. She was a rounded lady, her hips and shoulders the same width and her short, stubby arms fiddled with the flow of Emma's IV.

Killian watched Dr Mendez as he walked around the other side of the bed, flicking his eyes over the numbers and lines on Emma's monitors. “She hasn't moved, or said anything,” Killian said sadly, rubbing his hand together in front of him nervously. Any second now he was expecting to be ejected from the room when the staff found out he wasn't family.

“Well, she is in a medically induced coma, Mr Jones.” The doctor peered at him with a narrowed gaze, mentally noting the difference in surnames. “She won't wake up yet.” Dr Mendez nodded towards the nurse and she nodded back, a silent gesture they had obviously both practised many times before.

“Why? When will she?” Killian pried, concern rushing into his veins. “I need to-.” He paused, biting his tongue. He had so much to say to her, to prove to her, and he felt like it had all been ripped away from him so suddenly. “I just need her,” Killian sighed, rubbing a single finger over the skin behind his ear.

Dr. Mendez stopped and looked at Killian, halting his hurried questioning. He had lots of patients, too many if he was honest, but the tone of sadness in Killian's voice made him stop for a second. Delivering news was easier when it was good news. Finally, he turned his head to meet Killian's wide-eyed stare and offered him a soft smile.

“We are going to monitor her for the next few hours, but so far she has responded well to the antibiotics we have given her.” Dr Mendez folded his arms over his chest as he spoke, taking in the broken shell of a man in front of him. Killian didn't respond, waiting for more information that the doctor might have to give. “I know this seems extreme, but she has a rare complication from her pneumonia, and this is for the best. We caught the pneumonia early,” he offered with a tight-lipped smile.

“Can she hear me?” Killian asked and Dr Mendez nodded with a smile.

“Most patients that have been in a coma say they could hear the voices of their families,” he said, not committing to any answers that might give Killian any hope or take any away.

“When they woke up,” Killian confirmed to himself. Dr Mendez swallowed hard and fiddled with his name tag. It was plastic with a metal swivel that had become twisted, and he straightened it up against his pocket.

“Miss Swan is strong,” he said confidently. “It won’t be long and she'll be off the machines.”

“So, she'll be okay?” Killian's eyes fell back on Emma's tired frame, and he swore her hair had lost most of its colour. The colour was greyer, muted and her lips were dry and cracking underneath the tube. Killian stepped closer to her, gulping a lump down his throat as he reached out a tentative hand and stroked Emma's messy hair flat.

“This is all a precaution.” Dr Mendez motioned around, pointing the equipment out to Killian as he spoke. “We are breathing for her to reduce the risk of permanent damage to her lungs.” Whilst he spoke, the nurse busied herself with inputting data to Emma's chart held on the tablet in her hands.

“Or the baby's,” the nurse mumbled sweetly lifting her gaze from the bright screen of the tablet with a soft smile.

Killian nodded as they spoke but he didn't hear the words after what the nurse has just revealed. Killian's gaze was fixated on Emma's chest, the gentle rise and fall simulated in time with his ragged breathing. It hitched in his throat, the overwhelming urge to cry pricking in his eyes once more. Adrenaline coursed through his body, Killian's entire body tingling with fear and his heart changing its beat with love for a child he hadn't even met or even knew had existed until just now.

“Thank you,” Killian offered weakly not looking at the doctor or the nurse.

“We'll give you some privacy,” the doctor offered back, motioning the nurse to follow him from the room.

Killian ignored the sounds of the hospital when the door opened, and heaved a breath, blowing out a huge rattled sigh as the tears fell. The nurse's words bounced around Killian's brain and he stilled his hand in Emma's hair. Light, nimble fingers rubbed some of the soft curls between their tips, and a silly gasp escaped Killian's chest.

“Did you know?” Killian smiled sweetly towards Emma's unresponsive face. He turned over his warmed hand and brushed his knuckles down the side of her cheek. Emma's skin was cool to the touch and a little oily from her fever.

“I mean, you would have told me, right?” Killian quizzed, his brow knitting together in a frown. “Of course you would have,” Killian scolded himself instantly, shaking his head a little. There was no sound to reassure him of his words, only his own mutterings and the regular beep of the machines. His body tensed and his gut fell away from him, the uncertainty of his future suddenly very real. Their future.

“Do you even want kids?” Killian's questions came thick and fast, tumbling from his mouth like water over a fall. “We haven't talked about it.” And why would they? They had barely dated.

“How many? Do you want a boy or a girl? Will you go back to work afterwards? What will we tell other people? Have you thought of names?” Killian rambled, his voice jumping and hitching as he became a little irritated by the one-sided conversation. He ran a quick hand through his hair, scratching at the back of his ear harshly with his blunt fingernails.

“I can't believe you didn't tell me,” Killian exclaimed sadly, his hand languishing slow trails up and down Emma's arm. “Were you angry at me?” Killian waited but Emma returned no answer. Killian watched her, his eyes skimming over her face for any sign she was listening. Emma's eyes rolled under her eyelids, a remnant of the deepest induced sleep she was hidden in.

The whole misunderstanding with Shelley weighed heavy on Killian's mind and he swallowed his sadness down with a gulp. There had been hardly any time to explain, to ease Emma's worries and fears, and Killian felt a sudden distaste for himself in his mouth. He couldn't live with himself knowing that Emma had known she was pregnant and hadn't told him because she was angry. It was all his fault. If only he had worked things out earlier. Killian was one hundred percent sure Emma, however incensed with him, would never have held this sort of information from him. She was good, and pure and innocent.

“You didn't know, did you, love?” Killian's question fell on deaf ears and he got no response from Emma's lifeless body. Killian's lip quivered and he bit down on the flesh until it turned white. “You don't know,” he confirmed sadly.

Killian took a step back and dropped back into the chair behind him. The flimsy vinyl creaked under his weight as he shifted around uncomfortably. Killian reached out and gripped Emma's thin wrist in his nimble fingers, smoothing his thumb over the soft skin there and tracing the outline of the petal on her tattoo. Killian thought it felt warmer than it had before, but it was probably just Emma's fever.

“I promise you, anything you need, anything the baby needs,” Killian's words trailed off and his lips twitched into a thin, sideways smile. He was going to be a father and although woefully underprepared, his tension was laced with excitement. “We made a baby,” he giggled nervously, leaning forward and pressing his lips to her damp forehead.

“Emma,” Killian began, dropping his face to her ear and stretching out his palm over her flat stomach where life had yet to show. “I love you.”

Killian's head whipped up, the high-pitched whirr of an alarm sounding from Emma's heart monitor filling the room. There was a little red light flashing on top of the screen, and Killian watched the numbers in the corner start to increase. Killian pulled his hand from her body as she began to heave, her whole body going rigid and arching itself from the bed. Emma's eyes shot open, watery and bloodshot, and she fixed her gaze on Killian's petrified expression. “Emma,” he breathed, rushing closer to her so hard that he cracked his skull on an overhead swing arm lamp. He winced but ignored the pain when his forehead began to throb.

Emma struggled, her weak limbs swinging wildly by her face, grabbing for the offending tube down her throat. Her tingling fingers scratched numbly at the clear plastic, her eyes wide with panic. Emma was dazed, still heavily drugged and confused, and she didn't understand what was happening. She couldn't breathe, her throat was stretched by the medical equipment that had been breathing for her, and now her lungs were scorched by the red hot pain of the need to inhale.

Emma shook her head from side to side, her hair flicking wildly on the pillow where she lay. Adrenaline surged through her, prickling uninvited heat over her skin, and Emma wretched and heaved. She could barely focus through the tears in her eyes and the world went fuzzy around the edges of her vision. With what felt like her last ounce of energy, Emma lifted her arms and reached for Killian, eager to free her lungs from the searing pain, silently begging him to call her her doctor.

“Emma, no!” Killian soothed quickly, sure she would grab for her tube. He grabbed her wrists and pinned them to the bed. “It's alright,” he nodded quickly, his own breath quickening with the increase in Emma's heartbeat. “Can somebody help?!” He called out hysterically, shooting a quick glance to the doors, and no sooner had the words left his mouth, a gaggle of nurses and Dr Mendez rushed into the room.

Emma struggled against him, an unknown strength finding her suddenly, and Killian turned back to her, holding her gaze. He placed a quivering palm to her cheek, smoothing away her tears with the soft pad of his thumb, his heart thumping in his chest so fiercely he thought he might have a heart attack. “I'm here, love. It's alright, I promise.” Killian felt Emma relax, a single tear falling from her eyelids and rolling down her cheek as she nodded slowly in compliance.

“Step aside!” Dr Mendez snipped, shoving Killian aside with a gentle elbow. Killian staggered backwards, his rubber-soled shoes scuffing against the tiled floor. He fumbled blindly with his shirt sleeves, wrenching them up to expose his inked arms and bunching them over his elbow. Killian's sweaty palms found his face, clinging to the sides of his cheeks as he helplessly watched the swarm of medical staff around Emma.

“Emma. Emma, my name is Dr Mendez,” the doctor said softly, his words short and curt and his breath hot against the skin of her cheek. Leaning closer still, Dr Mendez pointed and instructed his staff in the right direction for what was to come. “You have a tube down your throat, so we need you to breathe out of your nose, okay?” He waited for Emma to nod at him, her eyes full of understanding but no less scared. “It's okay,” he soothed. “It will be out soon.”

One of the nurses, one Killian had not met before, ran over to the ventilator and switch it off. The machine powered down with a dizzy hum, its lights going out with a blink. The same nurse, dressed in different coloured scrubs to the others, quickly detached the tube connection with a click and let the rubbery pipes fall to the floor. It hit the ground silently and was crushed under her weight when the nurse stepped forward even closer to the bed.

“Now, honey,” she began, her thick, southern drawl tumbling from her mouth fast and messily. “I'm going to sit you up and when I tell you, I want you to cough for me, okay?” Her words were almost a blur and Emma barely made any out through the echo in her ears. Emma shot a quick wide-eyed glance at Killian, urging him silently to help her. She was gulping for breath, struggling to calm her breathing through her nose as it filled up mucus.

Two nurses sat Emma up, her bed creaking under the strain of its electric motor. Another nurse flicked on the lights, the whole room flooded with a sterile, white hue. Emma pinched her eyes closed, the light stinging behind her eyelids. Her hands found the bed rails and Emma held on, gripping the off-white plastic, her patience for the obstruction in her throat waning fast.

“Emma, honey, you’ve been in an induced coma and we are going to extubate you,” the lead nurse continued. “Do you know what that means, sweetie?” The nurse was kind, her words soothing and she brushed a tendril of hair from Emma's sticky forehead tenderly.

Emma calmed. Of course she did, she was a doctor after all. And this was a test, to see how well Emma could communicate and show cognitive function. It was one of the ways doctors knew if a patient was ready to breathe on their own. Emma could hear Killian, but she couldn't see him through the wall of nurses. Her mind was torn between thinking like a doctor and thinking like a patient, scared one minute and then feeling brave the next.

“Help her!” Killian snapped, his temper and frustration bursting into the room. He was done with standing on the sidelines. He was done pretending to be family just to see Emma. Technically now, he was family, and the urge to protect both Emma and the baby was uncontrollable. “She can't breathe, damn it!”

“Sir, I need you to calm down,” Dr Mendez took a step towards Killian, blocking his view of Emma. Another nurse stepped between them, crowding Emma's bed until she was completely hidden.

“Don't tell me to calm down!” Killian growled throwing his hands up into the air. “I'm done being calm!”

“Sir, you can't shout in here!” One of the nurses chimed in lifting a wall mounted telephone receiver. She kept an eye on Killian whilst dialling a few figures with a stiff, gloved finger. “Security,” she spoke into the handle, her one-word answer a statement.

Killian shook off a tall, thin male nurse who grabbed his shoulder. “Get off me!” he snapped, wrenching his shoulder forward and eyeing the sheepish nurse. “Touch me again-,” Killian gruffed low, but his words were cut off by the sound of Emma suddenly gulping a huge desperate breath.

Killian instantly softened, his cheeks flushing red with a mixture of nerves and adoration. His instant calm was noticed and Dr Mendez wove a dismissing hand towards the nurse on the phone. She uttered a few words, following orders but still suspicious of Killian's rage, and told security things were now fine.

Emma's body shook as she coughed, her eyes streaming with yet more tears. One of the nurses dabbed at her tears with a small piece of scratchy paper towel, but Emma welcomed the feel of it against her skin. It meant she was awake, but she could not remember how she had got here, and as the sea of staff parted in front of her, Emma finally focused on what she wanted to see the most.

“Killian,” she croaked, a tiny weak smile curling her lips. Killian's face spread into a sprightly grin and he heaved a sigh of relief at her words. Emma saying his name was everything. It meant so much and the wash of comfort that accompanied it was all Killian needed right now.

Enjoy my fics? Buy me a Ko-Fi!

[morriggan]

kh3 comes out in a week (!!!!!) and i have some kh hottakes and kh3 predictions/wishes bc im emotional and ive been playing this series since i was 5 years old lmfao but feel free to chat w me about them!!!!!!!

i love xion just as much as the next person but why would they waste the BEST character theme and battle music on this tiny tiny character that showed up for 5 seconds compared to the series in total lol. 

if they dont confirm that riku and sora love each other as more than friends (even if they dont end up like, together) then im lowkey callin queerbaiting. is that a stretch? idk

i really want for the end of kh3 that some characters dont go home, and at least three of them stay back (rebuild the land of departures?) and become fulltime masters and take on kids to train

i want sora to GO HOME AND STAY HOME (for a while at least) at the end

i want kh3 to be the last real game (they can make spinoffs all they want idc but they should End It for good here)

i know this is the end of the xehanort saga but according to nomura, he said kh3 isnt the last of soras story but like..... why not. it should be tbh

kh would be more accessible if they just modeled it more after ff i think. it doesnt need to be dark or mature or anything but if they handled the crossover thing better i think a lot more people would be down for this series (even w the complicated plot)

speaking of, they have to clear up a million plot holes in kh3. was sora the only chosen one and then the keyblade just required more people later on? never explained. how can roxas be “saved” when sora is alive? makes no sense, based on everything dictated in kh2 and days

mickey should not be one of the 7. his role shouldve stayed super limited and mysterious like it was in kh1. his inclusion as a major character in kh2 and onward is..... awful lol. 

they shouldve introduced a new original character as one of the 7 and tied in khux at the same time (we know time travel is do-able bc idk young nort was able to do that)

i fully know this would make the plot more wild but if we tie in an original character from daybreak town, it would come full circle and make khux like, idk, worth it

i want the FORETELLERS TO COME BACK AND BE IMPORTANT TO KH3

also i need an explanation for why larxene and marluxia cant wield keyblades when they are nobodies of keyblade wielders..... like thats why roxas was unique right so... why squeenix

overall i think khux was a huge mistake but its so fun to play that i almost dont care anymore lmfao

aqua better be saved or im throwing the whole game in the trash lol

AQUA KAIRI BONDING MOMENTS TOO OH MY GOD

i want many more cutscenes explaining all the drama happening between ansem the wise and xehanort and the other apprentices. what was the lead up to xehanort going from seeing AtW as a father figure to then betraying him and stealing his research and identity? like throw me a bone here that shits interesting!!!!

pls no more drive form grinding for upgrades just to reach treasures and collectables (see: kh2.5 and the stickers, and the cavern of remembrance)

let me be clear, i love hidden dungeons that are challenging. just let me rely on leveling my base stats over relying on my drive form upgrades and abilities to finish these dungeons

mad that everyone got cool new outfits (except kairi sweet girl im so sorry they made u look younger than u did in the first game i hate it. u deserved better baby) but lea. lea is still in the black org coat and there better be an explanation for that at the very least (or they just did trailers w him in the black coat and he does get an outfit that they didnt want to spoil??? i highly doubt this but i can hope)

i caved in and watched the leaked kh3 intro and a few things: 1) it really doesnt spoil that much and if u want to watch it but ur scared, literally dont be its fine. 2) its good, but squeenix has REALLY lost its touch w intro movies nowadays. they cram every second w symbolism and they dont take their time to just.... show us something good. like i couldnt blink at all during this intro lmfao. its a little annoying but despite all that, its alright. 3) the first minute of face my fears is CHILLING, WIG-SNATCHING, LIKE UTADA IS A LYRICAL AND MUSICAL GENIUS, but then the rest of the song is objectively awful im sorry its true and im gonna say it

last hot take: i usually hate remasters and re-releases, but im glad squeenix released all the kh games on one platform eventually. that being said, kh1.5 and kh2.5 dont have shit on the original ps2 titles. i completely realize i sound like a bitter old man but i dont care, the original numbered titles are better on ps2.

[artistic-writer]

Fragments of Home :: CS AU :: E :: Chapter 4

Title: Fragments of Home by @artistic-writer

Summary: Emma Swan must return home to her childhood town of Storybrooke when her mother dies and stays in the house left to her and her brother, David Nolan. Emma must juggle a temporary job at the hospital with her loss, something that has made her feel smaller than she ever was. When a tall, dark, handsome stranger comes into her life in the most unexpected way, and she begins to fall in love, will she stay in Storybrooke, or return to her new life back in New York?

Rating: E

Also on: AO3 - FF

A/N: Many thanks to my lovely beta, @kmomof4 who persuaded me that this would work as a CS fic in the first place.  Here is ch 4 lovely readers!  What’s that?  You want a little sweet, morning after snuggling?  Coming up!

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Now it wasn’t like Emma to let someone who was practically a stranger sleep with her. Actually, sleeping was okay but what she had done with Killian last night after their shower escapade, twice, was definitely unusual. Not unusual in the actual meaning of the word because a better one to use would have been phenomenal. Emma would never have slept with a guy after knowing him for a day but in her heart, Killian was different. He was definitely unusual, charismatic, handsomely defined and one of a kind, snoring softly beside her.

The Saturday daybreak spilled through the opening in Emma’s curtains and tumbled across the edge of the bed. The sun always rose at the back of the house, warming Emma’s bedroom with its joyous orange glow before it touched any other part of the house. The faint twittering of birds somehow managed to penetrate the modern double glazed windows, dancing in Emma’s ears like a wind chime. Her face screwed up and her features twitched but her eyes remained closed. She rolled onto her back slowly, lifting her chin and digging her head into the pillow before lifting a heavy arm and draping it across her eyes to block out the glare of the morning rays.

Emma’s nostrils filled with the warmth of the sun, heating each aroma in her room and awakening her still drowsy senses. Emma smelled her shower gel, aloe and cucumber, but it was tainted with the magnificent scent of manly sweat and post sexual bliss. The room was hot, stuffed with the heat of two bodies that had been pressed together in all directions for most of the night, leaving their uninhibited minds shattered and exhausted under the thin sheets.

Groggily, Emma rolled her naked body over again away from the sunlight and her head fell heavily on the pillow next to Killian’s. Her arm stretched out and lay softly across his head, stirring him from his slumber with a low grumble. Emma’s arm tumbled from Killian’s face, resting across his chest when he shifted in the bed and the sheets dropped to his waist. Emma peeled an eye open and their faces were almost touching. Killian’s breath warmed against her face each time it blew from his nose and his chest heaved with a sleepy sigh.

Why had she let it happen? Emma didn’t know, but she wasn’t exactly complaining. Her insides hurt pleasantly, more than she could explain and if she didn’t know better, she’d say the glow surrounding her was not just from the sun that bore into the smooth skin of her back. Maybe it was some kind of grieving process she was going through. Maybe, desperate to feel loved again and missing her mother, Emma has compensated with Killian, letting him take her to paradise over and over again. A smile played across her lips as her eyes searched Killian’s face but she was shaken from her daydream suddenly.

“Stop it,” Killian mumbled and Emma smiled wider, unsure if he was dreaming or awake. Killian didn’t move and his face remained unchanged, only a slight twitch in his brow gave away his thought.

“Stop what?” Emma whispered against his skin. She didn’t want to wake him if he was asleep but when he rearranged himself once more, clutching the fabric of the sheets to his waist as he did so, Emma knew he wasn’t.

“Stop devouring me with your eyes,” Killian rasped, his morning voice harsh and deeper than the ocean. A quick smirk played across his lips and Emma’s arm suddenly became pinned to his skin when he held it there with a tender touch.

“I can’t help it.” Emma beamed and closed the tiny gap between their faces and pressed her lips to Killian’s. A small groan escaped from his throat and he trailed his fingertips down her arm as she pulled her limb free, moving her hand to rest delicately against his cheek. Killian let her kiss him, inhaling her scent and letting his eyes blink open when his lips became void of her contact.

“You know-,” Killian began, rolling his head away from her smile and lightly scratching at the dark hairs adorning his chest. His eyes blinked again, focusing on the line of sunshine that speared its way across the ceiling and down the opposite wall. He swallowed a dry lump down his throat and rolled his gaze back towards her expectant face. “Some people would be surprised by our current situation.”

Emma shifted herself and rested her head on her elbow, entangling her fingers in her messy blonde bed hair and dragging the sheet up her chest to cover her modesty. “Like who?” Emma asked him with a grin, her brow furrowing playfully into a questioning frown.

“Me,” Killian said simply, mirroring her position. “Normally, you’d be gone by now,” he said with a smirk. Killian didn’t sleep around, but every time he had been with a woman, they didn’t stick around long. He was good looking, a fantastic lover, but his overactive mind scared most women off before dawn.

“This is my house,” Emma reminded him coyly. “And besides,” she began with a shake of her head that sent her curled hair tumbling over her shoulders, “you owe me dinner before we do this again.”

“Oh so hard to please,” Killian teased, smiling at her and he couldn’t help but reach out and brush a strand of hand from her face. There he went again, making love to Emma’s hair with his hands. “How about I make you breakfast instead?” he quipped smoothly. His voice was still husky but had begun to wake up and join the rest of his body. He tucked a stray hair behind Emma’s ear again, making sure it stayed there before caressing the side of her face with the back of his hand and smoothing his thumb over the corner of her crooked smile.

“I’d like that.” Emma smirked, leaning forward, her eyes flickering between his and his expectant lips before capturing them for a long, slow kiss. Killian’s hand cradled her jaw and he tilted her head back, darting his tongue out to moisten her lips and beg her mouth to let it in. Emma complied, parting her lips gently and sucking on his tongue, letting it trail over every surface of the inside of her mouth. Killian rocked his hips towards her and lowered her back down to the pillow gently, gobbling up Emma’s giggle as he grinned against her smile. Emma’s hand tickled up Killian’s sides and gripped at his shoulder, holding his torso to hers but they were suddenly and irritatingly interrupted by the jingle of Killian’s cell phone.

“Grrr!” Killian growled playfully with a heavy sigh. It made Emma giggle out loud and her smile was suddenly a permanent fixture on her face. “Hold that thought,” he said quickly before giving her another ardent kiss and pulling away with another groan and rolling over the edge of his side of the bed.

Killian’s hand felt across the soft fibers of the bedroom carpet and his vision drained a little when the blood rushed to his head. His diaphragm was crushed on the edge of Emma’s bed and he couldn’t locate his pants through looking or blindly fumbling. The incessant ringing grew louder and Killian could hear the buzz of his cell vibrating and Emma laughing.

“Killian,” Emma called and his head whipped up to see her pointing off the edge of her side of the bed. He gave her a puzzled frown before scrambling across the bed, tangling himself in the sheet and gripping the edge of the bed to stop from falling off. Emma moved her legs just as his body flattened to the mattress with an audible grunt and he fished in his pants for the cell phone. He read the caller ID before sliding the green arrow across the screen and pressing it to his ear quickly.

“Yeah, hello,” he said hurriedly through shallow gasps. His feet tried in vain to grip at the mattress but he began to slide forward over the edge of the bed and he reached out to stop himself with a trembling arm.

“Whoa, mate…” David began sharply. “Heavy breathing is not my thing, sorry,” he teased.

“Ha ha,” Killian said mockingly with a shaky voice, trying to push himself back over the mattress. Emma watched his display and covered her mouth to muffle her laughter. “What’s up?” Killian asked, a serious tone invading his voice.

“You tell me,��� David laughed. “I called you at home and there was no answer, and then I get you on your cell…”

“I was in the shower,” Killian interrupted him with a smirk. Technically, he wasn’t lying, even if his timeline was off by a few hours. Or seven.

“So you answer your cell and not your landline? I don’t think so my friend,” David told him and Killian could imagine him shaking his head. “Not unless you’ve been in the shower for two hours,” David said accusingly. Killian’s silence prompted his next accusation. “You’re not home,” he said with an air of triumphant glory in his voice.

“I…” Killian began, but he stopped when he felt Emma’s weight shift on the bed. His skin prickled to life and his blood began to double its speed around his vessels when Emma laid a tiny hand to his back and pressed her lips to his spine.

“Just admit it, Killian.” David grinned to his friend as he shuffled a few silky, colour photographs across the desk in front of him. “You didn’t go home last night.”

“Yes,” Killian breathed and his eyes fluttered closed and he rolled back in his head when Emma’s lips planted another tormenting kiss to the middle of his back. Her hands brushed over the warmth of his skin and she smiled at his helplessness.

“I knew it!” David declared with a roar, slamming his hand against the polished surface of his desk. He huddled himself closer to the phone. “Was she good?” he asked, he voice dirty and muffled.

“Huh? What?” Killian’s voice was broken, barely audible when Emma’s lips found the base of his neck and trailed kisses around the back of his neck to behind his elfen ear. She had noticed their endearing shape last night when Killian’s head was between her legs. David sighed into the phone and rolled his eyes.

“What’s her name…Emma…what's she like?” David prodded eagerly. Killian rolled his head sideways and Emma smiled against his stubble littered jaw as she continued her assault down his throat and past his bobbing Adam’s apple.

“She’s very…” Killian paused, incoherently imagining Emma’s lips elsewhere. His arm began to tremble under his weight once again and he considered letting them both fall to a crumpled heap on the floor just so he could touch her. “…wait,” Killian snapped quickly and Emma wrenched her lips from his body with a pout, which he detested immediately. “Why are you calling me on a Saturday?” Killian said in a cough, clearing his throat and trying to focus on why David would need him so desperately. When Emma realized he hadn’t wanted her to stop, she trailed her tongue across the salty skin of his back again.

“I need you to come into work,” David admitted, a little heartbroken Killian hadn’t finished his description of the wonderful mystery that was, unbeknownst to him, his little sister.

“Work?” Killian whined, gulping hard and trying to stop the burning in his gut.

“Yeah, there was a problem at the site again. I can’t fix this one alone, Killian. I’m really sorry,” David grinned with fake apologies. “So get your ass out of whoever’s bed you slept in last night and get here. Quick.” David chuckled to himself and hung up.

Killian pulled he phone from his ear and stared at it in shock. David never hung up on him; it was usually the other way around.

“You have to go?” Emma said in a childish tone. She draped her body over Killian’s back, wrapped her arms around his neck and planted another teasing kiss to his face. The combined weight of them both was too much to hold and Killian let them topple to the floor wrapped in the bed sheets, landing on his shoulder and absorbing the force of the fall. Emma squealed and then laughed heartily, burying her face in Killian’s chest that racked with its own laughter.

Killian stopped laughing first, silenced by the faintest trace of Emma’s plush, rosy nipple that peeked from the top of the cotton covering her body. She continued to laugh, smoothing the hair from her face as she sat back up in Killian’s lap, unaware that her nakedness was on display. She caught his eye and followed his line of sight, immediately blushing and replacing the fabric over her breasts.

“Don’t,” Killian breathed, stopping her when she began to move the sheet to cover herself. “You’re beautiful.” Emma blushed and her lips fought to avoid smiling at his compliment. “I’m sorry,” Killian offered, instantly finding the wastebasket next to Emma’s bedside cabinet so much more interesting. He needed it to be more interesting or he would be in a difficult and potentially sticky situation. “Although, I can’t think why you’re blushing,” he said smoothly, giving her a wicked smile that left Emma speechless. “You are beautiful, Emma.” He was more than charismatic, he was sophisticatedly filthy minded and for some reason, it made Emma aroused beyond comprehension.

“How long have you had these?” Emma asked slowly, watching her fingertip trace the outline of his tattooed bicep. Killian felt all the hairs on his body spring to life at her touch, swallowing hard. “They’re so amazing. Did they hurt?” Emma asked him shyly.

“A little,” Killian admitted with a small shrug. He gave her a small smile, letting her explore his skin. “I got them done is just two sittings.”

“One for each sleeve?” Emma said shocked, her eyes widening a little as she screwed her face up into a wince. “That must have hurt.”

“It was worth it, don’t you think?” He growled, wrapping his arms around her frame and holding her barely covered chest to his. His coarse chest hair tickled at her nipples through the fabric of the sheet and Emma arched into him harder.

“They are very sexy,” she said innocently, pretending to be unimpressed by his art covered skin. “What do they mean?” Emma pressed gently, shifting her weight so she could run her flat palms over the curve of his shoulders. The pattern of grey and blue hues rippled over his flesh as she stroked his muscles, watching her hands intently with fascination.

Killian bowed his head a little, almost embarrassed by her line of questioning, and Emma smirked at his bashful expression. If she didn’t know any better, she would say the tint of pink to his cheeks was from a blush. “Just things,” he told her softly, nuzzling his chin into the crease of her bosom playfully.

“What things?” Emma breathed, her eyes fluttering closed at his contact, the prickle of his facial hair scratching pleasantly at her smooth skin.

Killian kissed the top of her breast, letting his lips linger against the skin there for longer than necessary, before lifting his head and catching her sleepy gaze once more. The tattoos meant so much to him, every line and shaded image put there by his older brother who had been a world-renowned tattoo artist. Liam Jones would travel the world, leaving his ink on the huge line of people who, Killian was sure, would have stretched around the world. That was until he was killed in a plane crash and Killian had lost his grip on reality.

Now he had found Emma and had a new reason for wanting to get up each day.

“It’s not what they mean, love,” he began with a joyful, reminiscent smile. “It’s what they represent.” He tightened his grip around her waist, holding her against his body and enjoying the warmth from her skin and her smile.

“And that is?” Emma stroked her fingers through his sleep ruffled hair as she spoke, massaging his scalp with her dainty fingers.

“Family,” Killian said, a hint of sadness in his tone. “Family means more to me than I can say. My brother tattooed me, marked me for the rest of my life, and now I’ll never forget him.”

She was about to speak, tell him how she had fallen into him at the exact moment she had lost the remaining half if her family, but then her phone began to ring.

“Excuse me.” She smirked, pushed herself to her feet in a ladylike manner and stalked around the edge of the bed to where her handset sat on its charging unit. The sheet that was wrapped awkwardly around her body slid from Killian’s, leaving him naked and exposed at the side of her bed. He leaned up on the edge of the bed, propping his head up on his elbow and smiling at her the whole time. Emma shook the hair covering her ears and pressed the answer button with a beep. “Hello?” she tried to sound normal, ignoring Killian’s boyish grin by turning from him.

“Hey Emma, it's Whale,” her colleague sang down the phone. Emma could clearly hear the bustle of the ER around him. People were screaming, children were crying and the clatter of a new trainee nurse dropping a tray of instruments echoed through the section of the hospital. Whale, as happy go lucky as he was, did have some off days and today Emma heard a distinct low point in his voice. “Listen, sweetie, we need you to come in as soon as possible. Have you seen the news?”

“The news?” Emma asked seriously, stepping sideways and flicking her television on. Killian watched her move, silently retrieving his boxers from the end bedpost and sliding them on quickly. He was sure they had ended up somewhere else that night, but he also distinctly remembers trying to redress and cook dinner. That went to plan like a botched bank robbery. “Oh god…” Emma sighed, covering her mouth with a shaky hand.

Killian’s head whipped towards the TV and then back to Emma’s pale expression. She was frozen to the spot, her eyes fixated on the glaring news images broadcasting from the screen of a train crash. There were smoke and fire, people fleeing where they could and shards of metal littering the ground. From the helicopter footage, being broadcast live to the city, emergency personal looked like insignificant specks of luminous yellow as they carried stretcher after stretcher from the wreckage.

“Emma? We need every pair of free hands for this one. Most of the patients are coming here.” Whale’s voice sounded stern down the phone. “Emma?” he repeated, a little concerned. Killian walked around the bed, his feet padding silently against the carpet until he reached her. She didn’t acknowledge him, before or after he plucked the phone from her hand and held it to his own ear.

“She’ll be there,” he said simply and hung up the phone. Killian studied her face, laying a gentle hand to her shoulder. Emma flinched and stared at him wide-eyed, her breathing quick and uneven. “Hey,” Killian began with a caressing tone, cupping her face and giving her a worried look. “Are you alright, love?” he soothed, thumbing her skin lightly. Emma gave him a weak nod and looked away before her burning tears threatened to fall. “Emma, why are you crying?” Killian urged, hooking a finger under her chin and lifting her eyes to his once more.

“I’m not,” she said quickly, wiping her eyes with a shaking hand. Killian gave her a disbelieving look and something inside Emma broke. The dam holding back all the years of repressed hurt burst and images of a more familiar accident propelled themselves through her mind. Emma’s father’s image, trapped and choking in a smoke-filled carriage, raided her mind. If he wasn’t slowly suffocating he was burning, every haunting nightmare she had ever had invading her mind at once. “I’m sorry, my father was a doctor who died in a train crash,” Emma suddenly said.

It sounded different out loud. It sounded almost as good as it felt. Like a weight lifting from Emma’s body, she stopped crying and looked up into Killian’s sorrowful eyes. She didn’t know why she had told him something so intimate. She hadn’t spoken about her father since he died, not even in passing or when someone commented on him being proud of such a talented young woman. Killian didn’t say anything for a while, simply offering her a feeble smile before lowering his lips to hers.

“Then go and make him proud,” Killian told her firmly and for the first time in her entire life, Emma felt as though she could. Medicine had come a long way in fifteen years and there were now ways to save people who would've otherwise perish in a train wreck. “I can make you breakfast another day,” Killian smirked, trying to lighten the mood. Emma laughed nervously, left his warm embrace to dress and they left the house together, going separate ways at the gate with a polite wave.

Emma couldn’t help but sneak a quick look over her shoulder, a smirk plastered to her face and her brown leather handbag clutched to her side. Killian’s outline walked briskly towards the center of town, his clothes slightly creased from their violent discarding last night and his hands buried deep in his pockets. If Emma hadn’t of known better, she’d say he was whistling, but the roar of traffic drowned out any sound from the distance between them.

Deciding against the train today, not just because the lines were delayed but because she wanted the fresh air before facing the ER on a Saturday, Emma took a cab and sat in the back seat with the windows wound right down. The motion of the car made her hair whip and flick at her face and she was constantly brushing it aside with quick sweeps. There was more traffic than normal on the road today, another consequence of the disaster, and yet, the sun still shone through the paneless window space and made her squint to avoid it. Children still played in the street, skipping over boxes of chalk drawn outside their front steps and old men still congregated to play chess in the local park, shaded under an old oak tree. In the aftermath of a tragedy, life still went on.

However, nothing could have prepared Emma for the ER. The recent wreck had left its mark, as well as blood on the floors and people screaming in the halls. Storybrooke wasn’t equipped for this. There were not enough examination rooms, not enough nurses and Emma was glad of the silence when she slammed the door to the locker room and heaved a sigh. The ER was full to capacity and she barely had time to change into scrubs before she had a patient. Macy Graem, twenty-five, had been in the middle of one of the trains when the two collided and sent her crashing through the window.

Emma could hear the screaming before she even reached out with a gloved hand and pulled the curtain back. It slid along the metallic rail with a scraping noise and Macy was thrashing about on the bed, pulling at her restraints and shouting abuse through body-wracking sobs. Emma’s eyes surveyed the scene. There was no blood, it was eerily clean, and the one side of Macy’s face Emma could see was flushed pink as she yelled at a nurse to let her out of the padded cuffs.

“Why is this woman restrained?” Emma asked the nurse, a little confused. The petite nurse with dirty blonde hair and floral scrubs handed her Macy’s chart.

“The patient has severe trauma to the left side of her face caused by a puncture wound to the ocular section of the skull,” the nurse said with a quiet cough before Macy turned to them. Her appearance took Emma’s breath away.

“Yeah, I know,” Macy rolled her eyes at Emma. “You’d want to pull it out too,” she spat, pointing at the huge shard of glass that had pierced her eye and sat suspended from her swollen face.

“Uh…” Emma stuttered, before regaining her composure. “Let’s get an x-ray to see how far back into your skull this thing goes and get you on some pain medication,” Emma noted, signed and handed the chart to the nurse who scurried off in a rush.

“Finally!” Macy huffed. “I need to get some coffee before my noon meeting.” Emma offered her a weak smile before backing from the makeshift examination room. Some people, Emma decided, had their priorities all wrong.

A few hours later, there were no more critically injured patients making their way to the hospital. Most were being seen to or had been sent to other nearby hospitals. Emma made her way through the crowded halls, half ignoring the requests from the hurt and injured for more pain medications and half apologizing for not being their doctor. She could have been, and they would be more comfortable but the truth was hideously clear. In the wake of a disaster like this, patients were categorized by colour according to their specific needs.

Red denoted the need for immediate attention while being tagged with yellow meant you could wait while the red tags were seen to. The protocol for a green tag was simple triage but most patients were being monitored in the overcrowded halls and were in pain. In a way, the pain was welcomed. It meant the patient was still lucid and knew what was happening, even if I did break Emma’s heart. Perhaps the hardest sight of all was a baby, cradled in its mother’s arms, lying still and cold and blue. Emma couldn’t hear Dr. Whale’s apologies but by the tender hand he had laid to the mother’s shoulder and the sudden rush of tears that fell from her eyes, Emma knew the tiny life had not gotten the chance it deserved to avoid its fate as a black tagged victim.

The pharmacy was rushed with one lone technician dispensing every drug needed on the floor that day. He was flurried, rushing back and forward between the stacks of boxes, bottles and sachets and the front desk. He was maybe forty-five, medium height with a thick head of neatly combed brown hair and caring, kind eyes. Most of the doctors called him Tom, even though his real name was Dwight Thomson.

“Hey Tom,” Emma said with a smile, leaning on the desk on her elbows. She had known him for the smallest amount of time but felt like she could call him Tom now. He returned her smile, taking a deep breath and combing the hair from his brow with his fingers.

“Good evening, Dr. Swan,” he chimed but then his smile faded away. “Well…it’s evening anyway,” he added solemnly with a sigh. “What can I get you today?” he asked politely, leaning on his wrists like a barman.

Emma checked to see if anyone was behind her before looking back to him. “PCP,” she said in a hushed voice. Tom gave her a quirked eyebrow.

“The morning after pill? Dr. Swan,” he said scandalized, a little shocked but Emma interrupted him with a reassuring smile and little headshake.

“It’s for a patient,” she told him professionally with a roll of her eyes. Tom retrieved a small pill from under the desk and emptied it into a plastic cup with a clatter. “So save your lecture for another time,” Emma said playfully and signed the prescription. Tom laughed at her and called for the next prescription.

It was one tablet. One white, thick, round tablet rattling at the bottom of a transparent cap that Emma had so much focus on as she moved back through the ER. As fantastic as last night was, in the wake of it all, Emma had realized that there was no protection. They had simply thrown themselves at each other, and Emma had not stopped to think of the consequences until she had seen the dead baby. Her heart ached for the mother who would never get to see her child grow and the last thing Emma wanted was to be in that situation.

Her white coat must have signified something to all of the waiting visitors because they all rose from their seats in unison and looked to her with expectant eyes when she passed through the waiting room. One man nudged her side and she toppled, losing the grip on the wafer-thin plastic up and letting it fall to the floor. At that exact same time, another man stepped forward and crushed her pill into a fine alabaster powder.

“I’m sorry,” Emma started in anticipation of his question. “We haven’t got an updated list of the injured yet,” she droned like a robot, telling the waiting ER exactly what she had been told to say. Never admit and never deny. Shift blame to the unknown, the thing that most people feared the most. Emma backed away from the crowd that had turned into a rowdy mob, complaining in their time of desperation of the incompetence of the hospital.

The doors of the ER burst open and startled Emma who watched the gurney roll smoothly over the tiled floor towards her. The patient was strapped to the moving trolley and a paramedic ran alongside, momentarily squeezing air into their airway and breathing for them. Another small paramedic sat astride the patient and had her hands elbow deep in the chest cavity, pumping the heart manually with her bare hands. Blood splattered her white shirt but Emma was unsure if it was from this patient or another.

“We need some help here!” the paramedic screamed out of breath, turning her head to catch Emma’s eye. Emma reacted instantly, plucking a pair of gloves from the convenient box attached to the nearby wall and following the trauma down the hall.

--

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