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crockettmarcel · 3 years

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day 21 - birth

The first contraction came during a meeting, exactly three weeks before Sarah’s due date. Ava was the only one to notice the way her breath hitched, and how she gripped the arm of her chair so hard that her knuckles turned white, and she knew straight away what was happening. It only lasted a few seconds, but Ava abruptly ended the meeting, telling the two advisors as they left the room that they’d conclude this at a later date.

She waited until she was sure they’d gone to ask Sarah if she was okay and to help her out of her seat, not wanting to alarm anyone or send rumours flying around the palace. If this was really happening, they wanted to keep it to themselves for as long as possible. So much of the pregnancy had been publicised, despite their best efforts, and even though they knew all of their staff, there were some things that didn’t need to be revealed right away.

Sarah had simply nodded, and allowed Ava to walk her back to their bedchamber. It wasn’t far, but Sarah held Ava’s hand the whole time, squeezing it as tight as she could when the next contraction hit.

“You’re doing really well, my love,” Ava told her, and she just smiled in response. The pain was manageable at this point, and the contractions were far enough apart that by the time next one came around, she’d recovered from the one before it. This she could cope with, but everything only got worse from here, and she could already feel the anxiety building in her chest.

It wasn’t long before Dr Asher appeared in the doorway of their room, and they gladly welcomed her in. With Ava’s help, Sarah had changed out of her dress, which was uncomfortable even on the best of days, and into an old t-shirt and leggings that her mom would have had a fit over. They weren’t suitable for any royal, much less the queen, but Sarah was sure that all rules about royal etiquette were going to be thrown out the window over the next few hours.

The examination was quick, and Sarah’s head was reeling by the time Dr Asher left, having confirmed that their daughter would soon be making her entrance into the world.

This was it - the moment they’d been waiting for for years.

They were going to have a baby.

After everything that had happened with her previous pregnancies, and the complications during this one, Sarah didn’t want to take any risks, so she’d arranged straight away to have the baby in the hospital in the city. There was a private suite, and she knew the doctors there were some of the best in the whole kingdom; she couldn’t see herself anywhere else.

She sat and watched Ava check and re-check their hospital bags, making sure nothing was missing, then once she was finally satisfied, the couple made their way downstairs to one of the side entrances. Crockett was standing next to a waiting car, the concern already written all over his face, and Sarah simply waved him away.

“I’m fine. Dr Asher said everything looked okay, and-” she paused, taking a moment to breathe through another contraction, Ava’s hand low on her back, then looked up at Crockett. “That wasn’t as bad as it seemed.”

He frowned, but didn’t say anything, instead taking the bags off Ava and putting them in the trunk of the car, before opening one of the doors for the two queens. Sarah got herself as comfortable as she could, then stared expectantly at Crockett, who was still standing by the open door.

“Ma’am?”

“Aren’t you getting in?”

“Oh. You- you want me there with you?”

Sarah smiled. “Of course. I’ve already arranged for someone to cover for you.”

This was a complete surprise to him - although he and Sarah had always been close, he hadn’t expected her to want him there for the birth of her first child - but he complied anyway, and sat down on Sarah’s right, trying not to invade her personal space too much.

It was less than half an hour to the hospital, and Sarah spent most of the drive with her head on Ava’s shoulder, and both hands resting protectively on her bump. As they got closer, the panic started to build in her chest, and once they arrived, she had to take a few minutes to compose herself until she was calm enough to go inside.

Ava held her the whole time, taking deep breaths in the hope that Sarah would too, and she did eventually. This was a big day for both of them, and after everything they’d been through over the last couple of years, Ava couldn’t blame her for being scared. God knows she would be.

A nurse met them at the door with a wheelchair - presumably Dr Asher had called ahead - and Sarah slowly lowered herself into it, grateful that she wouldn’t have to walk anywhere. Her contractions were still quite far apart, and she probably could have walked, but she didn’t want to expend any energy if she didn’t have to.

Almost as soon as they were settled in the room, there was a near-constant stream of nurses and midwives coming in and out, checking her vitals and the baby’s, and offering her water or food or anything else she could possibly need or want. Everyone was polite and said all the right things (Sarah suspected they’d been drilled on how to talk to the queen), but it all felt too formal for what she was about to go through. The thought of a nurse with her hand inside Sarah continuing to call her “ma’am” seemed almost laughable, so within half an hour, Ava had told everyone that “Sarah” would do perfectly.

They’d been at the hospital for two hours, with Sarah’s contractions getting steadily closer together, when Crockett approached the bed with his phone out.

“It appears the news has just broken.”

Sarah took the phone and skimmed through the article on the screen. Her Majesty was seen arriving at the hospital just after midday today… It is still unknown whether the country will be welcoming a prince or princess… Many pubs are hosting bets on what the baby will be called…

“I think everyone’s going to be losing some money today.”

“Pardon?”

“The most popular name for a daughter is Elizabeth? Do people really think I’d name her after my mother?”

She shook her head and smiled, then handed the phone back to Crockett. “Keep me updated. I want to see what people are saying.”

From then on, he made a point of every hour, on the hour, showing Sarah what the polls were saying - whether she was having a boy or a girl, and if she’d be using a traditional family name such as her mother’s, or going for something more contemporary.

It was a good distraction, at least while she could still cope with the pain, and Ava loved how invested Sarah was getting in people’s opinions. Her favourite name so far was Charlotte, despite having ruled it out months ago, and the pair ended up having a momentary crisis about the name they’d chosen instead. It resolved quickly though, and soon Sarah was back to pacing up and down the room, as she’d taken to doing just over half an hour previously.

She hadn’t realised how much waiting was involved in a birth - waiting for her waters to break, waiting to be fully dilated, waiting for someone to bring her more ice while she moaned in pain - and she almost cried with relief when, sixteen hours after arriving at the hospital, the midwife told her she could start pushing. She was in the birthing pool by then, with Crockett and Ava holding one hand each, and somewhere beneath all the pain, Sarah was sure she was hurting them with her grip.

If she was, they were doing a good job of hiding it. Ava was whispering reassuring words to her, telling her how proud she was, and every so often Crockett would brush a stray curl away from her damp forehead. They had her completely, and somehow that knowledge helped.

Time seemed to slip away from her, and she wasn’t sure if it had been fifteen minutes or two hours before someone around her announced that they could see her daughter’s head. All she could do at this point was cry and hold desperately onto the two people that meant the most to her as she tried to find the energy to finish what they’d started all those months ago.

After somewhere between twenty minutes and an hour, if Sarah had to guess, she was suddenly a mother. Her daughter - the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen - had been placed on her chest by the midwife, her big brown eyes staring up at the new world around her. She didn’t cry once, and instead just rested against Sarah’s skin, comforted by the familiar sound of her mom’s heartbeat.

Ava cried, Crockett too, but Sarah was too in awe of the tiny person in her arms to do anything but watch her. Her movements were jerky, as if she wasn’t quite sure what to do with her limbs now that she had all this space around her, but it soon became obvious what she wanted.

The nurses helped Sarah get settled back in the bed, Ava squeezed in next to her, and as they showed her how to feed the little princess, Crockett left the room to call the Lord Chamberlain. Within the hour, there’d be a sign up just inside the palace gates announcing the birth, and Crockett reckoned it wouldn’t be more than a few minutes after that before it was all over every radio station and news channel in the country.

Her Majesty was safely delivered of a daughter at 0423am today. Her Majesty and her child are both doing well.

#chicago med #royalty!au #sarah reese #ava bekker #crockett marcel #nosdecember #userglow #writing #mine #pregnancy tw #birth tw #idk how i feel about this lmaooo #novwrites

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 years

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kiss me in the d-a-r-k .4.

tuesday

part 1 part 2 part 3

Warnings: non/dub con sex (oral)

This is dark!(dad)Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

Summary: Our reader finds herself cornered.

Note: Alright, another part. So this is a fic with an old mean/younger woman dynamic. I’ve purposely played up that trope so if you’re not a fan of that, I recommend you avoid this story (not to mention the the other warnings.) This series is just a bit of fun and not a statement on age or beauty or anything like that. It’s just a fic.

That being said, I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think!

...

The next morning you awoke to banging. Distant but persistent. Your head was pounding. Your legs were cramped. You sat up slowly and braced yourself on the head board as you hung your feet to the floor. This was why you hated drinking. You had no control. One drink easily meant ten.

You rose and dragged yourself to the door. You creaked it open and peeked down the hall to the source of the commotion. Steve's voice carried back to you.

"Kylie, I swear. Wake up or I'm coming in." He knocked again.

You reeled as memories flashed through your head. His silver streaked blond bent over you. The warmth of his fingers on your flesh. The tickle of his tongue, the nip of his teeth. You snapped your door shut and pushed yourself against it.

You heard Kylie's door open. Her groggy voice sounded worse than you felt. "What?" You could barely hear her through the wood.

"One of your friends puked on my rover," He said. "Thought I'd allow you the pleasure of cleaning up after them...and don't forget the backyard. This isn't a fair ground."

"Ugh, Dad," She bemoaned, "Just give me a little."

"I warned you. Be smart. And here you are," He retorted, "Hungover. I'm pretty lax but this is enough. You have your friend here so maybe you should start acting like a responsible host. She is not my responsibility."

"She can take care of herself," Kylie grumbled, "It was just a bit of fun."

"I know about Taylor," He chided, "I'm not that stupid. I just hope you're being smart about that at least."

"I'm up, okay? I'll clean it all up. Can I at least have a coffee?"

"I think you can manage to drink and clean at the same time," He scoffed, "I want the whole car washed, got it?"

You listened as heavy footsteps passed by your door and lumbered down the stairs. You slowly cracked your door open and Kylie's eyes were drawn by the movement. She smiled but it was more a cringe.

"Do you feel as bad as I do?" She laughed and gripped her head.

"I'll help you clean," You offered, ignoring her drunken promise to do it herself. You felt too bad for that.

"Kay," She leaned on her door frame, "I'm gonna shower first. I'll meet you down there."

"Good idea," You said, "Think I could use one."

She gave a wave and closed her door. You retreated into your room and touched your temple with a groan. You stared at the bed. You could remember a little. Mostly just the sensation. The images were blurred in your mind.

Had it really happened?

You pushed yourself away from the door and stumbled across the room. The shower was open and you reached in to twist the faucet. You cranked it but only a trickle came from the head. You shut it off and turned it back on. You adjusted the setting on the shower head but nothing change. You sighed.

You tried the sink and a similar result, even the toilet croaked and drained slowly. What the fuck?

You changed quickly into a pair of sweats and loose tee. You'd be cleaning anyways. You stepped into the hall. Kylie must be enjoying her shower still. You were jealous. You descended the stairs slowly and the smell of coffee wafted from the kitchen. You followed it to find Steve in front of the fridge, his back to you.

"Good morning," He turned as he took out the carton of soy milk. "I made coffee...figured you'd need it." He kept the fridge open and pulled out assorted fruits, "Or I can make you a smoothie?"

You stayed quiet. He acted as if nothing had happened. Maybe it hadn't.

"My shower's broken," You rasped through your dry throat.

"Oh, I can have a look at it," He assured you, "So, did you want that smoothie? It's great for hangovers."

You stared at him. He smiled. You shrugged and coughed into your hand. "Sure."

"You girls had quite the party," He rinsed the berries and peeled a banana. "I admit, I had some wild days myself. Me and Sharon...well, she hated when I got drunk but boy was she a load when she indulged. We fought like cats and dogs." He loaded the fruit into the blender and added milk. "Fucked like rabbits after."

Your mouth fell open and he took a jar of honey from the cupboard. He drizzled just a little into the blender. He smirked as he put the lid in place and hit the button. You gripped the edge of the island as he held your gaze. He raised a brow coyly.

"Ugh," Kylie's voice jolted you as she entered. "Can you stop?"

Steve took his finger off the button. "Smoothie?" He offered her and she gulped. Her face turned green as she fought her body.

"Coffee's fine," She croaked and grabbed a mug from the cupboard as Steve opened it.

He took out two glasses and filled them. He walked around the island as he slid one across to you. "I'll finish this and have a look at that shower."

While Kylie hosed down her dad's car, you worked at gathering the plastic cups littered across the backyard. Paper plates and napkins were strewn around the bin meant for them. Why had you even bothered?

You tied up the full bag and tossed it just outside the sliding door. You folded up the table and leaned it beside the trash. You collected the used towels and took them inside. After you'd use the net to scour the pool. You found your way to the laundry room by chance and dumped the towels into the tall washer.

You found the soap in the overhead cupboard and measured out a scoop. The buttons beeped as you searched for the right setting. You were proud when the machine began to whir quietly. You stepped back with hands on hips. You still had a lot of work to do.

"Gonna have to call a plumber," You spun and almost tripped over your own feet. Steve leaned in the door frame. His body filled it easily. No escape. "I'll only mess things up worse. But there's another room. Right next to mine."

You rubbed your arm and tried not to fidget. The way he looked at you made you want to melt. The thought of sleeping on the other side of his wall stoked your nerves further. You'd rather bunk with Kylie. Besides, there were at least several other rooms.

"It's alright, I can use Kylie's shower," You offered.

"I wouldn't hear of it. I want you comfortable." He neared and his hand slowly closed the door behind him. "Happy."

"Steve," You backed up as he came closer. He didn't stop until you were against the vibrating washer.

"Didn't I make you happy?" His fingers walked along your thigh. "It sure sounded like it."

"Stop," You caught his hand. He turned it easily and twined his fingers in yours. He pressed himself flush against you. Your could feel his arousal.

"I'm better with my mouth," His voice was low. "How far have you gone? Have you even been touched down there before?" He licked his lips, "Before me?"

You glanced away in shame. He knew. He could tell so easily. You wondered how many women he had fucked? Maybe just his wife. That would hint at a sudden mid-life crisis that had him chasing you. Or maybe he had fucked dozens of women and you were just another piece of meat.

"No one," You whispered. "Can I please...go?"

"You're more than free to leave," He rubbed his erection against you before he raised his hands and backed away. "I've already moved your stuff for you."

You edged away from the washer and kept your eyes on him. He merely turned to watch you go as he lowered his arms. He grabbed his crotch as you opened the door and you dove out into the hall. You felt the same tingle as the night before. The ripple just along your thighs. It was wrong. So wrong.

When you had finally returned the yard to its usual perfection, you retreated to Kylie's room. She needed a quiet night in and you weren't complaining. Youtube videos, gossip, and the occasional but comfortable lull. It reminded you of the nights you'd spent studying on campus. This was the Kylie you knew.

By eleven, she was out. She hadn't really recovered from her hangover and your own was still a stone at the base of your skull. Her snores were low at first but grew louder. You thought of staying in her room but you'd sleep less as she rumbled like a bear. You turned off her television and tucked her in. At least one of you would be well-rested.

You pulled her door shut gently. You listened to the house. An airy silence met you. You looked down the hall to Steve's door. No light shone from the space beneath. You sighed. He was probably already asleep. Hopefully.

You tiptoed down the hall, careful not to knock the standing vase or step on the single loose floorboard. When you reached your door, you grabbed the handle and slowly pressed the lever it. A gasp escaped you as it was pulled open from the other side.

"Got your bed all made up for you," Steve caught your arm and yanked you inside. You squeaked as the door shut swiftly. "Found some fresh sheets at last."

"What are you doing?" You tried to wriggle free of his grasp but he was strong.

"It's my house, I like to make sure all my guests are comfortable," He played with the sleeve of your shirt. "You and Kylie sounded like you were having fun."

"Get out," You grabbed his wrist but he didn't budge.

"You can deny me but you can't deny yourself. The little looks you send me say it all." He slid his hand up and brought both to cradle your face. "You want it as bad as I do."

You trembled. You felt the pluck within. The tugging deep inside. It wasn't him, it was merely longing. The desire for something you'd never known. "No…" You breathed.

"Why are you shaking? Tell me," He urged. "I know it's not fear. Not of me. Only of yourself. Of the way I way you feel."

You tried to shake your head. You reached up and grasped his hands.

"Fuck, I've been hard all day." He groaned, "Longer."

"I-I-I--" You stuttered dumbly.

"Come on, sweetie, I just wanna make you feel good," He purred, "Help you enjoy your vacation. You've only got a few days left."

He guided you back and you let him. Was it fear? Was it desire? You weren't quite sure. He turned you carefully and edged you to the bed. Your legs hit the side and you struggled to stay on your feet.

"Just relax, sweetie," He cooed and his hands went to your shoulders. He pushed until you sat down.

He got to his knees between your legs and his fingers crawled down to your chest. He groped you through the thin cotton of your tee. Your bra did little to hide your hard nipples.

"You really are beautiful," He said, "Really."

You gripped the duvet. Your nerves buzzed and you shivered as his hands slid down your stomach. He kneaded your thighs and you grabbed his hands. "I don't know."

"We don't have to do everything. Not tonight," He turned his hands over and held yours. "We'll take it slow."

You looked into his eyes. You had said no already. He wouldn't accept it. And despite your protests, your resolve was slowly fading as your flesh caught fire. He let go of your hands and his large fingers went around your waist. You let him push you onto your back, your legs still over the edge.

He pushed under the hem of your tee and you closed your eyes. He tickled your stomach and ribs. Your breath caught and he cupped your tits. He squeezed them through your bra before slowly dragging his palms back down your torso.

He hooked his fingers in the elastic of your pants. He pulled them past your ass and down your legs. He moved between your knees again. His fingers grazed over your panties and you looked down as he bent his head over you. You felt his hot breath through the cotton and your leg twitched.

He grabbed your thighs and nuzzled you through your panties. He inhaled and you let out a pathetic mewl. His hand whispered along the inside of your leg and he slipped a finger beneath the crotch of your panties. He pushed the cotton aside and you felt his breath against you. You gasped.

His other hand went to your waist, almost comforting you. He slowly pressed his tongue to your lips and delved past them. He flicked it up and down and lingered on your clit. You arched your back without thinking as you leaned into him. He swept his tongue in circles around your bud and the air caught in your throat. His mouth sent a charge of electricity through you like no other.

He pulled away, just a little and looked up at you. "It feels good, doesn't it?" He purred. "It feels right."

You bit your lip as you watched him lower his head again. His blue eyes held your as he tasted you and you squirmed. He hummed in delight and closed his eyes as he lapped you up. He held aside your panties as his saliva mixed with your arousal. He lifted your leg over his shoulder and you held yourself up with your arms.

You let out a surprised cry as the flurry gather around the tip of his tongue. You recalled the hazy flashes of the night before. You gulped as the air tried to rush from your lungs all at once. Your pants grew to airy moans and your hand found its way around the back of his neck. You came into his mouth as you clung to him. Shocked by the sensation; by your reaction; that you were latched onto him so fervently.

You released him and fell back on the bed. You touched your forehead but he didn't slop. He kept on until you felt the thrill again. Your thighs closed around his head and you bit the heel of your hand. Another orgasm peaked as quickly as the last.

Slowly he sat back on his heels and you looked up at him as he pulled the crotch of your panties straight. He patted your pussy with two fingers and the fabric dampened beneath his touch. He stood, his lips glistening and his eyes smokey.

"Tomorrow," He rubbed your knee, "I'll show you even more."

You were dazed as he retreated to the door. You didn't miss the bulge in his pants or the way he rubbed it. He groaned as the door handle clicked and you listened to him leave. You rolled onto your side and felt the slickness along your thighs.

Tomorrow, the word echoed in your head. Your heart pounded. Was it excitement or fear?

tags will be added in reblog (late bc i work)

#dad!steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers #steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #dad!steve rogers #au #series #fic #mcu #marvel #captain america #kiss me in the d-a-r-k #miniseries #dark!verse #darkverse #dark!fic #dark fic

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o-u-a-timer · 6 years

Text

Fandom Crescendo: Packing Things Away

For @scribblecat27‘s Fandom Crescendo, here is another one-shot prompted from an anon. And I really enjoyed writing this fic, as well as the story that was told. I am all for domesticity, and this was a fic that allowed me to see Emma and Killian both having those seeds being planted in their mind that they could be something. Their up-all-night-talking-and-exploring-this-new-dynamic-while-comparing-physical-scars is definitely my favorite part... Anyway, if you haven’t read this nearly 4-year-old fic, definitely give it a try! (Also… reposting in its entirety and leaving AO3 link.)

Summary: Anonymous said: “I got a prompt if you are interested! I love the idea of Emma taking Hook along to pack up her place in New York while Henry is with Regina because Emma thinks it would be good to be away from Regina for a few days. Emma and Hook exploring their new relationship on the trip. If you want to write it, it would really make me happy. Thanks!”

Published: 2014-06-25

Words: 2775

AO3

“Careful with the glass though,” Emma warned as she watched Killian’s attempt to paper wrap the dishes from the kitchen cabinets. “How are you even doing that with only one hand anyway?”

Killian lifted his fake hand that was in place of the usual hook.

“It’s a little bit easier with this,” he said with a shrug. And with a wide grin he continued the task of wrapping dishes for the trip back to Storybrooke.

“Thanks,” Emma told him softly, going back to her own job of clearing out the refrigerator.

It hadn’t been that long since she had been here. Back home in New York City. But now it was packing day. This life was over. And she had this promising future back where she knew was really home: Storybrooke.

She would only be taking the essentials back with her. The personal items that she could not part with. Everything else would be sold off and in the care of, thankfully, her trusted building manager.

“No problem at all, love.” Killian cleared his throat rather noisily. “Emma?”

She turned back to see that he was once again staring at her.

“Yeah?”

“How are you doing?” His hand waved in her direction. “With everything?”

Emma’s brows raised. “You mean with Regina?”

Killian gave her a knowing shrug.

Regina, although she didn’t rush to attempt to snatch her heart out to crush it (even if that was impossible), was still physically reeling from the discovery of Emma’s part in ruining her life. Emma just needed some space between her and the other woman. Even though the trip back to New York was only a few hours, she had planned on taking a few days to settle all of her business before going back.

Henry had decided to stay with Regina. A good idea, Emma thought. He would be a steady fixture in her life. One that Regina would not only appreciate but one that she needed.

But Killian had decided to make the trip with her, she thought with a smile. It would be a whole different from their last time in the city. Completely different.

The last time they were together here he had been a stranger to her. And when he wasn’t a stranger there had been a cloud of disaster looming over their heads. But this time? This time they were here under the haze of a budding new romance. When she had stopped to think about it, she did so with quick bright smiles of wonderment. When he looked at her, she saw something familiar yet different. Emma realized it had been she who had denied those looks of something meaningful since Neverland. But there was no need for that this time, because she realized how much she enjoyed the feelings behind those looks.

Emma sighed, pulling out the wilted vegetables from the crisper. “Honestly, I’m just glad I got to get away for a few days.”

“Well there is that.”

Emma turned back to look at him.

“And I’m glad I’m getting those days with you,” she told him honestly. “Without the constant need to look over my shoulder for the next crisis.”

“And then there’s that as well,” he murmured, his gaze conveying so much.

Emma rolled her eyes in a playful way. “Let’s get finished with the kitchen, alright? We still have to clear out the living room and the bedroom.”

“Aye,” Killian agreed, his hands moving quickly to wrap another glass dish in the newspaper.

Emma noticed the sudden glint in his eyes, but chose to dismiss it. With a quick bite of her lip, she returned to her own task at hand.

******

Emma placed the half-empty cartons of lo mein and fried rice on top of the already covered cocktail table. She turned back to look at Killian, who was already stretched out on their makeshift bed.

He had an arm under his head, propping himself up a bit, and a raised knee. He was lying comfortably atop the pallet made of two thick blankets and fluffy pillows laid out in the middle of the living room floor.

He did seem rather comfortable, she surmised. An ease fell upon them in this setting that she wasn’t sure they would have so soon. It had been a few days since their return from the past. That meant a few days since they started working on this new avenue of their relationship.

Emma glanced out of the window, checking out the terrific view of the skyline.

“New York is a beautiful city.” She turned to make out his expression.

From his angle, he wouldn’t have been able to view anything but the darkening sky.

With a slight shrug of indifference, he answered, “This city is so busy with the bustle of structures and even more structures that it is difficult to even have the opportunity to appreciate its natural state. The stars, for example. There is no way to see the majesty afforded this land because of all the man-made lights shining atop it.” He looked back at her. “In Storybrooke there is at least that.”

Emma smirked. “I didn’t think that you’d care too much for it.” She moved slowly back to their shared bed. With a plop, she took her seat next to him, sitting crossed-leg.

Killian looked up at her from where he still laid, unmoving except his eyes, which roamed her face.

“But I would have followed you here without a moment of doubt,” he assured her solemnly.

Emma wrinkled her nose, cocking her head to the side. “You kinda did.”

And with that he grinned. “I meant forever.”

The look in his eyes, and the butterflies in her stomach, convinced her that his words were true.

“If you would have needed to come back here then it would have been a sacrifice I would have willingly made.”

“You sweet talker you,” Emma said softly. She leaned over his body, her lips searching for his. It was a soft kiss. A press of lips against lips that sent little sparks of electricity coursing through her body.

Killian’s fingers slipped over her cheek as she pulled away.

“I mean it, Emma.”

And she nodded. “I know.”

She had not been nervous before that moment. Sitting back, just watching the calmness in his eyes, her thoughts went to the significance of this night.

She felt a bit silly. This was not the first time she had been alone with him. This was not the first time they had went away on some trip together. A lot of their time together had been spent outside the comforts of home, some journey. But this was different. This was them, away together alone. This was them alone in the city and with a new budding relationship. So nervousness was a little bit okay, right?

Killian was so relaxed. He had been that way the entire trip, but she wondered what he was thinking right at that moment. Because it was bedtime. And even with their relationship progressing over just the past few days, she didn’t know what she expected from the night. She definitely didn’t know what he was expecting. But she was open to anything.

“It’s been a long day,” Emma said with a sigh.

“Filled with a lot of work,” Killian added. He scooted over a bit. “Why don’t you lie down? All the hard work has been taken care of. Get some rest before it starts all over in the morning.”

Smile tugging on her lips, Emma pulled back the cover.

“Are you tired?” she asked.

“No.” With Emma laying there beside him, Killian’s arm fell across her waist, pulling her closer. “I’ve just been looking forward to this moment right here.” And a quick simple peck graced her cheek. “Oi.”

He was smiling as he pulled back, and so was she. “What?”

“You’ve gone a bit red, love,” he told her, his fingers ghosting over her cheek. “What is it?”

It was the touch of his skin to hers. It was the amount of heat being created between their bodies while being wrapped in the blanket. It was the heady thoughts once again invading her mind of how much this man was beginning to mean to her.

Emma shrugged. “Don’t know.” She turned from her side to lay flat on her back. It was her turn to look up at him. To gaze up into his face and be mesmerized by everything she found there.

Emma smiled. “I’m not sleepy.”

Killian returned her smile with ease. “Neither am I.”

With only a slight pause, just a second to think about what she was doing, Emma lifted her lips up in search of his. Another chaste kiss. Only it turned into something else, as Killian’s mouth slid over hers. It became a slow and in-depth discovery between two people who knew the other one so well in some aspects, but completely curious in other ways.

When his lips slid from hers to move across her cheek, Emma smiled to herself.

“This is going to be a good night.”

*****

1:00 a.m.

“I’m worried,” Emma admitted.

“About?” Killian’s fingers threaded through her hair. It was all at his availability with her lying atop him. She was still dressed fully in pajama shorts and top, but it felt as if there were absolutely no barriers between them. Such a heady feeling…

“About what’s to come when we’re back home.”

His arm held her steady above him while his hand roamed from her hair to her face to her neck.

“Regina will come to terms with what has happened,” he murmured. “You cannot live in fear of her issues and what effect that will have on you.”

A frown creased Emma’s brow. “Do you know Regina?”

“Aye,” he answered firmly. “And I know you even better. I know that even if you have your doubts, you are still holding out hope for her to not regress into the evil queen that she was.”

“Hoping isn’t a guarantee,” Emma whispered.

“But it’s nice to have to hold on to,” he countered softly.

She watched his eyes for a moment. And she appreciated his optimism so much.

“You’re just what I needed.” Emma laid her arms flat on his chest, followed by her head. She was beyond comfortable. “I’m happy you’re here, Killian.”

*****

3:00 a.m.

“Liam was… a natural leader.”

Emma disentangled herself from his side to look up at him.

“Where I was the more cautious of the two, he was more self-aware and satisfied by his own mind and decision-making skills. Which he had an abundance of.”

“Just not always?” Emma asked, looking up at him.

His mouth turned grim. “Not always.”

Emma let her hand travel down the length of his side, letting her silence speak volumes for herself.

“I was wary that day,” Killian continued, his gaze falling to a point at her shoulder. “Pan, for all his flare, seemed knowledgeable of the island. Liam wholeheartedly believed in our king, never giving Pan’s warning any heed. He would not doubt for a second that our mission was not to destroy a whole people. There was nothing I could do to get him to even take a moment to perhaps think things out.”

He had gone back to that place, Emma could see. He wasn’t looking in her eyes, but she saw the faraway gaze, the disconnection to the present.

“It wasn’t until it was too late that Liam wanted to confront our king for his wrongdoings. We could no longer save him.”

Emma wrapped her arm around his back, hugging herself all the closer to him.

“He was all that you had then,” she murmured, understanding. “The one person who you could share your burdens with so that it wasn’t always just up to you. I’m sorry you lost him, Killian.”

He buried his face in the crook of her neck. She could feel the press of his lips against her skin.

“Aye, that he was,” he muttered thickly. “It was that way for a long time.” He pulled back and finally met her eyes.

Killian didn’t have to say the words. She could feel the sentiment in their embrace and his face. And she felt the same way.

Until you.

*****

4:30 a.m.

“This one?”

“Consequences with a battle with some nasty mermaids.”

“What about this one?”

“Again, during my time in Neverland. The Lost Ones and I were not always so even-keeled. But I more than not came out on top.”

The blanket had been pulled back as the exploration of bodies ensued. New eyes gave new perspectives of those things they were used to seeing.

“What about you, love?” Killian asked, lifting the hem of her shirt a mere few inches. “I think this spot right here has been my favorite discovery.

Emma smiled at the feel of his lips to her stomach.

“That’s not a scar,” she told him. “It’s a birthmark.”

“You were marked at birth so that one day I may find…”

Emma felt the instinctive eye roll come as she smiled. The feel of skin to skin felt great. But she couldn’t help but think that he could be a bit much at times.

Then again, she thought as her fingers gripped fistfuls of his hair, she could handle that.

*****

6:00 a.m.

“Are you sleepy, love?”

Emma smiled up at him. “Yes. But I’m having so much fun.”

Killian leaned down to drop a kiss on her lips. “Aye.”

Exploration of bodies with eyes and fingers eventually turned into exploration of bodies with open mouths and lingering gripping hands.

Killian hovered over Emma, attempting to not put too much of his weight on her. The weight felt so good to her though. This was a tremendous way to spend their first night together in New York. “Sleep can wait.”

“But… there is still much to do today. You should rest.”

Emma’s fingers caressed the soft dark hair that matted his chest, loving the contrast between that and his beard, which was rough and scruffy.

She didn’t know when she would ever get enough of him. She didn’t know if she could ever get enough of him. And yet she knew she had only begun to scratch the surface. There was so much more to learn about the man who was always willing to put her first.

“This is amazing, Killian,” she whispered. “I’m not ready for this to end.”

Killian leaned his head back. “Emma, love, this is only the beginning.”

*****

11:00 a.m.

She liked that he was possessive even in his sleep, Emma noted to herself when she awoke to find his arms wrapped around her waist.

She knew it was late. She knew that they had eventually got about four or so hours of sleep. The day was slipping away from them already. But, it was their day. It didn’t have to be about anyone or anything else.

He began to stir from behind her, his body sliding up against hers.

“Morning.”

“Good morning, love. Did you sleep well?”

“Yes. How about you? Are you feeling well-rested?” Emma bit her lip as she turned in his arms to face him.

He had the biggest smile on his face, his eyes still looking a bit blurry from sleep. His hair was a tousled mess, exactly how she would have imagined it looking in the morning.

“Well-rested, yes. I told you the sleep would do us both a wealth of good.” Killian pulled her even closer.

Emma rested her hand against his hair-roughened cheek. “A few hours of sleep is not the only reason for my chipper mood this morning.”

The smile turned into a wolfish grin. “Aye?”

She rolled her eyes, tracking his thoughts with her own.

“It was everything, Killian. Everything that I’ve gotten to experience with you these past few days since the mess-up with Regina. Since the beginning you were always there. You coming here to New York was something I didn’t even know I needed until last night.” Her hand slid over to his arm. “I know I’ve said it a lot, but thank you.”

Killian’s mouth came to press against hers once again. It was a kiss that lingered for a moment. Heat and passion rising between the two.

“Emma, don’t thank me again,” he murmured close to her lips. “Just enjoy this all for what it is.”

Emma smiled. “Ok, I don’t want to leave this moment for a very long time.” She kissed him again, happier than ever in this moment he was giving her.

#captain swan #cs ff #ouat fandom crescendo #fandom crescendo #my fics

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myhahnestopinion · 6 years

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The Night A THERAPY-NEEDING THERAPIST Came Home: PHOBIA (1980)

You should get therapy. Yes, you, dear blog reader. Now, don’t be offended! There’s no shame in getting therapy. Pretty much everyone should! There are some who require it to manage chronic mental illnesses and personalities disorders, but therapy is also productive and meaningful in all sorts of other circumstances. People looking to improve their social relationships. People looking to stay motivated on specific goals. Even therapists use therapy! Or, at least, they should.

But perhaps the group that needs therapy the most are those of us who have sat through the mind-numbing terribleness of 1980’s Phobia.

Phobia revolves around Dr. Peter Ross, a psychiatrist trying to help a group of prisoners overcome their irrational fears. Dr. Ross has a theory, called “implosion therapy,” in which patients are immersed in experiences of their fear, until they learn to overcome them.

Why, that’s just “immersion therapy”, you say? That’s not an original thesis, Dr. Ross! Well, may I remind you, blog readers, it is often said the definition of “science” is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results!

Or something like that.

Anyway, Dr. Ross’ method of immersion involves locking his subjects in a room as giant telemonitors play videos of the patient’s fear.

Watching movies is an effective form of therapy?? Wow, I have been doing this right all along!

Barbara Grey, an agoraphobe, is shown videos of a packed subway station. Bubba King, an ophidiophobe, is shown a video of a snake eating a rabbit. Henry Owens, an acrophobe, is shown a video where a child falls to their death off a balcony. When they hit the ground, their head explodes into ceramic pieces, which, uh, seems less like it will solve Henry’s fear of heights than introduce a whole new set of problems for him to work through.

If you’re questioning Dr. Ross’s method, you’re not the only one, as he is called before a hospital ethics committee to answer a few questions about his practice. After explaining that his method is based on a personal experience from his childhood where his father threw him in a lake despite his fear of water, the chairman of the committee quickly announces that Dr. Ross has met their concerns. Which would be a sensible conclusion, if by “meet our concerns,” the chairman means, “brought us face to face with new concerns we would never have even thought of before this meeting.”

Namely things like, “personal anecdotes are not a solid basis for dangerous psychiatric therapy,” or maybe concerns like “Um, where did you acquire this video of a ceramic child’s head exploding?”, or maybe even, “So, you’re telling us you blew our hospital’s budget for the entire year on a room of multiple oversized telemonitors just to test a theory that’s already been proven?”

Dismissed by the committee, Dr. Ross leaves his office, and is confronted outside by Dr. Alice Toland. Dr. Toland leans in towards Dr. Ross, and whispers about how she can’t stop thinking about the time they hooked up. “I did all the things I told my patients not to do if they find themselves in a similar situation, but, well, it’s another case of a psychiatrist not able to take her own meds,” she remarks.

It’s not a bad line, but, personally, I would have gone with, “Dr. Ross, I could really use some of your ‘implosion therapy’… inside of me.”

But, well, maybe that’s why I’m not a psychiatrist.

Dr. Ross continues his experiments by taking Barbara, the agoraphobe, into the city, and asking her to take the subway into the market. “You mean nothing to me, you mean nothing to me,” Barbara routinely thinks as she makes her way through the compact crowds underground, which, again, feels less like the cure for Barbara’s phobia, and more like the start of an antisocial personality disorder.

Regardless of whether Barbara is able to manage her fear, Dr. Ross asks that she meet him at his house just a few blocks away after she is done. When Dr. Ross enters his home, though, he realizes he’s not even supposed to be there today! He has a hockey game! Dr. Ross rushes out with his pads and puck, and is not home when Barbara arrives in a panic. As Barbara continues to panic, she spots a drawer in Dr. Ross’s home office with her name on it. She opens it to find a bomb, and the movie cuts to black.

“You should have seen your apartment. There was blood everywhere,” someone describes to Dr. Ross. Yes, well, I wish I could have seen that too, but you can’t blow your budget on blowing things up if you also want that sweet on-location hockey rink action.

I’m not the only one who find’s Dr. Ross’ hockey obsession suspect. “Unusual for someone from California to play hockey, isn’t it?” Inspector Larry Barnes inquires upon calling Dr. Ross into his office for questioning.

Now, Phobia is a Canadian production shot in Ontario, but never specifies its setting. Therefore, it’s unclear whether Inspector Barnes takes issue with Dr. Ross bringing his absurd Canadian culture into America or with Dr. Ross patronizing attempts to assimilate from America into Canadian culture. But, don’t worry, either way, we can still pass the blame to those dang foreigners!

Much to Dr. Toland’s dismay, a young woman named Jenny St. Clair bursts into Inspector Barnes’ office and embraces Dr. Ross, her boyfriend. Barnes inquires if St. Clair knows any of Ross’ patients, but she says she’s only ever seen pictures of them. “Too bad,” Barnes replies, “I thought I could make use of your women’s intuition.”

Man, we were really counting on your women powers there, Jenny! Now Barnes has to do actual police work, and the rest of us have to sit through another hour of this garbage! Geez, no wonder women are treated like second class citizens here in America! …or Canada! Wherever we are! Doesn’t really matter in this case either.

Dr. Ross goes to meet with Henry Owens, Bubba King, and his other patients, who are all still reeling from the death of their friend in the program. Well, “reeling” in this case means praising Dr. Ross for how wonderful he is and raving about how he’s such a ladies man. You know, if most people knew that therapy was just sitting in a circle with a bunch of people that enthusiastically tell you how much you can get it, I think we could actually solve the mental health crisis in America!

…or Canada! Whichever!

“Let’s skip therapy today,” Dr. Ross tells Bubba. “For Barbara.” It’s a nice sentiment, but Ross doesn’t really have any other choice, as the police demand to question Henry Owens due to his particular criminal backstory. Once in the interrogation room, Barnes and the other police officer sit Henry down in a chair, then demand he stand up. After he stands, the officer removes the chair without Henry’s knowledge, and Barnes orders the terrified Henry to sit down again, who complies, and unexpectedly falls onto his butt, as the police officers laugh. “Flying through space, doesn’t seem to bother him at all,” Barnes jokes in reference to Henry’s acrophobia.

If you’re thinking that such antics are beneath the office these two possess, well, I have some bad news for you.

Don’t catch you slippin’ up! This is America!

…Or Canada. Again, it’s not clear.

But, dammit, they get results. “Results,” in this case, being breaking Owen to the point where he assaults the officers, escapes the hospital, holds a woman at gunpoint to steal a car, and the proceeds to lead the police on a car chase around LA/Toronto, culminating in this man running up into an under-construction building and out onto an unsteady I-beam. Sure, might not have been the best move for someone who’s scared of heights, but, well, the man wasn’t afraid of driving in LA/Toronto, and, dammit, that should count for something!

Dr. Ross and Jenny get summoned to the scene to help. Ross runs up into the building and meets Henry on the I-beam to talk him down. Jenny watches anxiously with Inspector Barnes. “Can’t you set up a net to catch him?” she asks.

“Net wouldn’t work. He’s too high up,” Inspector Barnes replies. And just like that, they’ve exhausted all possible options for breaking a man’s fall. Barnes doesn’t even have the decency to set up the net, and then yank it away at the last possible second, which would be hilarious, amirite? Hello? Am I right? Is this Canada or not?

Dr. Ross talks to Henry on the I-beam, but we are kept at a distance and can’t hear what he says. Henry appears to be willing to come down, but suddenly falls off to his death. “With a few more treatments, I would have had him cured,” Ross remarks afterwards to Jenny.

“Maybe we shouldn’t have treatment today,” Dr. Ross declares to his remaining three patients. Now, come on, Dr. Ross! You can’t just decide not to continue treatment just because another patient died! That’s like postponing your gun-themed television drama whenever there’s a mass shooting. It’s gonna keep happening, so at some point, you just gotta go ahead and air it anyway!

The patients seem to be on my side of this, as they all decide to forge ahead with their treatment. Next up in the telemonitor booth is Laura Adams. Dr. Ross starts his movies on the big screens and, this time, they’re of… three men violently grabbing at a screaming woman…?

Now, I’m no psychiatrist, but, well, I don’t think not wanting to be unconsensually grabbed by violent men can be considered an irrational phobia. Dr. Ross forges ahead with his theory though, even to the point of violently grabbing Laura and pulling her back into the room against her will in order to cure her fear of being violently grab and pulled against her will.

Following her “therapy,” Laura takes a bath, presumably as a coping mechanism and not an excuse for gratuitous nudity. Once in the bathtub, Laura is drowned by a mysterious figure.

After one of his two remaining patients, Johnny Venturi, is crushed in an elevator shaft, Dr. Ross is summoned once again by Barnes. Barnes points out that Dr. Ross has an understanding of explosives from his time in Vietnam and has had access to all the patients before his death. “All that’s lacking is a motive,” Barnes muses.

It is at this point in a murder mystery plot that a film swerves and delivers something unexpected, yet still built up on all that’s come before. And Phobia does indeed do the unexpected by… revealing Ross’ motive.

Dr. Alice Toland decides to sneak into Ross’ office to investigate his files, because that’s never gone wrong for anyone before. In the office, Toland is confronted by Jenny, and reveals that the reason Ross was really afraid of water was because his sister drowned many years ago. As Toland relays this information, she pauses, realizing out loud that Ross blames himself for his sister’s death, and now believes that people who are unable to overcome their phobias deserve to be punished with death.

Jenny rushes to Ross’ office to find Bubba dead from a rattlesnake bite, and Ross wielding a gun. “I had a baby sister. I can never remember her name,” Ross exposits in sympathetic fashion. “She died when I was… seven,” he continues, in less sympathetic fashion.

Ross holds the gun to his head, and before Jenny can stop him, pulls the trigger. Ross’ body hunches over his control panel, and he dies as he lived: showing weird-ass videos of a child falling of a building and exploding into ceramic pieces on the giant video monitors behind him.

Sometimes in therapy, one is able to talk through past events and discover answers that had been staring one in the face all along. This is then perhaps the most accurate aspect of therapy on display in Phobia. The film starts with the premise that a doctor’s patients are being murdered one by one and suspicion falls on our intrepid hero, Dr. Ross. In the end, the doctor’s patients are murdered one by one and the culprit was.. our intrepid hero, Dr. Ross. In therapy, one usually has multiple options for treatment. In Phobia, the film never bothers to come up with an alternative suspect to Dr. Ross, making for quite the interminable murder mystery. And while the answers discovered in therapy often take a long time to work through, Phobia rushes to a disappointing conclusion unlikely to provide any catharsis, no matter how many oversized telemonitors you project the film on.

Phobia is available on Digital SD.

COMING SOON: Another installment in The Night X Came Home Vol. 3!

#film #horror #thenightxcamehome #phobia #bad movies #halloween #so bad tis good #therapy

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