Aug 21, 2020
Jaskier, but make him Bucky Barnes
Geralt
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from Czechia
seen from Malaysia
seen from Canada
seen from Singapore
seen from China
seen from Canada
seen from China
seen from Türkiye
seen from Türkiye
seen from Australia
seen from Türkiye
seen from Italy
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from Italy
seen from Netherlands
seen from Italy
Jaskier, but make him Bucky Barnes
Geralt
Lil Hollow doodles!
CA AU by @empy-caelumgardens!
The Paradox of Light :: CS AU : Rated E :: part 4
Title: The Paradox of Light by @artistic-writer Summary: Imagine having one person, one constant, one love in your life that holds your head when you go under the surface. They will be there forever, holding your hand through everything life can throw at the pair of you, but what happens when a crack forms? What happens when it grows into something neither of you can control? What happens when the one person who was there to guide you becomes an obstacle and rather than hold you up, they pull you down? How do you find your way out of the darkness without your light? Rating: E Warnings: Angst, hurt/comfort, alcoholism/alcohol abuse, sexual addiction, domestic violence, fighting, choking, erotic asphyxiation (use in a non-informed manner), depression, death of Liam Jones, panic attacks, PTSD, attempted rape/non-con/dub-con, stab wounds, bar fights, rehab/AA meetings
- but there is a happy ending to this story, i promise.
Author’s Note: I missed this ficversary because of everything that is going on in the world right now, but its been in the plan to re-release it as a multichapter for some time. It’s A LOT otherwise and whilst I initially always intended this to be a one shot, because I wrote it in one go, its not logical to expect people to stop and read so many words in one go. The lovely fanart by @itsfabianadocarmo features in all chapters, so go show her some love!
PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS!! This fic has a lot of them for a reason. If you want to ask about any, please don’t be afraid to message me.
Part Four [ below the cut ]
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Two months ago
There were certain times when Killian never went out to drink and those were the happier times, when Emma felt like they might be like they once were. His beloved soccer team’s semi-final match against their biggest rival was one of those times, however, he was never far from the bitterness of an alcoholic beverage. The game hadn’t even reached half time yet and he had already plowed his way through a six pack, the bottles still wet on the outside from the condensation that had not had time to evaporate.
It was a rare occurrence for both of them to be home at the same time. Killian often worked late, heading straight to Will’s bar, and if he was home early, Emma nearly always had a late shift at the precinct that meant they would not cross paths again until the next day. Knowing he would be home because of the game meant Emma could arrange this evening, spend some time together, just the two of them, and hopefully begin to mend the pieces of their relationship.
It wasn’t exactly that their relationship was completely broken, but neither could deny that it was cracking and coming apart because of their ignorance to their own destruction. But tonight, Emma had a plan, to secure the edges of their love before it split and frayed beyond salvation.
And it began with interrupting the half time interlude dressed in only lingerie.
“Oh, Killian…” Emma sang, walking down the stairs as silently as her bare feet would allow on the wooden steps.
“Hmm?” He grunted, gulping another mouthful of beer from a new bottle and frowned at some slow motion replay on the screen with a disgruntled noise.
“Are you busy?” Emma cooed sweetly, padding across the floor and letting her fingers trail along the back of the couch where he was sitting. She stepped sideways, her freshly shaved legs smooth as they rubbed against each other. It wasn’t the only thing that Emma had rid of all hair and her lips quirked up at the corners at the thought of Killian seeing her.
“No, It’s half time,” He mumbled against the cold, glass lip of the bottle in his hand. He was slouched back into the cushions, his shirt having been discarded in excitement over a goal, and his lounge pants slung low on his hips. Hair covered his entire torso, the droplets of water from the outside of his beer sitting in tiny bubbles on the thatch that poked out of his waistband, and as she walked past Emma couldn’t help but rake her nails over his shoulders.
“Oh good,” she purred, reaching the end of the couch and stepping into his peripheral . She knew he could see her. His stomach caved in from his intake of air and he almost choked on the swig of beer in his mouth, wiping the back of his hand over his mouth and turning to look at her with a slack jawed expression.
“Fuck me, Swan,” he stammered, fingers gripping the bottle in his hand so tightly his fingernail beds turned pink under the hard surface.
“That’s the plan.” Emma sauntered around the couch until she was standing before him. He licked his lips and ran his tongue over the edge of his teeth, eyes roaming over her dressed in a brand new piece of lingerie he had never seen before. It was stunning, a blood red corset made of bone and lace that left nothing to the imagination, hidden underneath a sheer black long sleeve gown, but it’s most defining feature was a black lace halter neck choker that made Killian grin salaciously.
“Nice outfit,” he smirked, bouncing the balls of his feet on the carpet in front of him, fidgeting as blood rushed to his groin.
“Oh, this old thing?” Emma rolled her eyes, flicking her loosely curled hair over the back of her shoulder.
“That is not old,” Killian bit his bottom lip, his eyebrow bobbing up his forehead. He motioned towards her with the beer bottle, extending his arm.
“How can you be so sure?” Emma took a step forward, shrugging her shoulders and letting the gown silently flutter to the ground behind her.
Killian took another swig of his beer, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on Emma the whole time. “I would have noticed,” he said smugly.
Emma tilted her head to her chin, looking down her torso, barely able to see her feet over the balconette bustier that so comfortably housed her ample breasts. “You like it?” She blinked, opening her eyes to meet his once more without lifting her head. Her teeth worried her bottom lip, turning the plump skin white as she bit down, and she swivelled her hips sideways.
Killian’s gaze drifted to the profile of her ass, the skin bare and the string of her thong disappearing between her cheeks. It took everything he had to keep his hand on the bottle and not reach for her curves, his fingers itching with the memory of how she felt under his touch. He flexed his fingers, rubbing his hand along his thigh and hating the way the cotton of his pants felt nothing like her skin. With one last chug of his beer the bottle was empty, and he swallowed hard, a tiny droplet escaping his lips and rolling down the lengthening hair of his beard. All he could do was exhale, hard and forced, his chest heaving in another breath.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” Emma smirked, giving him a wink and slipping out of his view towards the stairs. He sat still, composing himself she was sure, until she heard the thud of the empty bottle against the coffee table and then silence as he switched the game off. Emma lifted her leg onto the first step, turning back to offer him a coy smile. “Are you just going to sit there all night?” She teased as she ascended the stairs.
For a man who was already half cut, Killian moved like a rocket, springing to his feet and bolting across the space between them in less than three strides. Emma squeaked, feet pounding the stairs as she ran, pulling herself on the handrail to increase her speed. When Killian stumbled she giggled and took advantage of the distance she manage to put between them, flying through their bedroom door and turning to face him just as she reached their bed. Killian made it to the door and leaned on the frame, muscles bulging at his biceps and breathing heavily, his hair flopped over his forehead, the grin he had been wearing now replaced with a feral, cat like stare.
He was stalking her like prey and Emma had never felt so exhilarated.
“You are a siren,” he said accusingly, reaching up to scratch at his almost full length beard. It sported a few grey hairs, streaks of white mixed in with his usual gingery hues that accented the silver that had formed over his pointed ears.
“And you are too slow,” Emma rolled her bottom lip between her teeth, hands on her hips. “Must be the grey,” she winked.
Killian took a step into the room, straightening up and reaching for the door. He wrapped his fingers around the hard, wooden panel and slammed it closed behind him, smirking when Emma jumped a little with anticipation. “Silver fox, right?” He whispered darkly as he approached.
Emma nodded, letting her eyes roam over his naked torso once more. Her skin hummed as he approached and a soft whimper fell from her mouth as she noticed his arousal tenting his pants. He stopped inches from her and his manly scent invaded every one of her senses immediately, making the blood pound in her ears and her core ache.
“Don’t they mate for life?” Killian purred, his breath hot on her face. He pushed his hands into the side of his loungewear, pushing the material down over his thighs and letting them pool at his feet. She swallowed hard, not caring that her plan had been turned around on her, and rubbed her thighs together to alleviate the tension between her legs.
Completely naked, Killian was exposed. It had been so long since they had played this sort of game, made love, seen each other naked even, and her eyes flitted over his scars. They were everywhere, littering his body and a constant reminder of what had happened to him overseas, and Emma had forgotten how many he actually had. She didn’t care, he was exactly how she wanted him, each divot, rippled and raised bit of flesh a trophy of how hard he had fought to get back to her.
Emma lifted her gaze, fixing her stare into the oceanic depths of Killian’s eyes. “Forever,” she whispered.
He paused, his heart stopping for a second as he comprehended her words. He looked away sheepishly and gulped. “After everything?”
“Killian, please, don’t,” Emma said softly, closing the gap between them and pressing herself against the firmness of his chest. Her fingers tangled themselves in his beard, curling into the wiry hair and gently tugging his face up to look at her once more. “Don’t. Not tonight. Let’s just…”
“I know,” He said with a weak smile. “I don’t deserve you.”
“You’re right,” Emma laughed, pushing herself from his body and watching his expression change instantly. It became more playful, his eyebrow jumping up on his face and his cock twitched back to life. “I should just…” She turned from him, still feeling his eyes burning into her back. She reached at her side and pulled down the zip of the corset agonizingly slowly, the clicking sound almost lost over Killian’s groan of frustration. “...take this off,” Emma dropped the barely there lace corset to the floor and peeked over her shoulder.
“Bloody Hell,” Killian ground out through a clenched jaw.
“And maybe this?” Emma hooked her thumbs into the waistband strap of her thong, teasing the material down over the curve of her ass and watching Killian’s resolve slowly disappear. He was so worked up she could practically see his heart thundering in his chest, vibrating his chest hair and making his skin come to life.
“Maybe I could help?” Killian growled, his feet planted to the floor, his whole body paralyzed when Emma bent over as she pushed the material to her knees, letting it go and fall the rest of the way unaided. She stretched forward over the bed and a moan tumbled from her lips when her nipples brushed the comforter and sent them into rock hard peaks. Emma slithered across the top of the sheets, careful to keep her legs closed, and gave him another sultry look over her shoulder.
“I can think of a much better way you can help me,” Emma purred, rolling over onto her back and palming her breasts. “Do you want to know how?” She cooed, beckoning him with a finger.
Killian just growled again, the sound vibrating deep in his chest as he crawled up onto the bed and over her naked form. Emma sucked in a breath, carding her fingers into his beard again and leveling his gaze with hers. He hovered above her, his body not touching hers but both of them could feel the electricity radiating from their skin, shocking the others to attention. “I know exactly how,” he said teasing her bottom lip with his, offering her the softness of his lips only to tear it away at the last second.
Emma grinned, clawing the sides of his face and arching her back off of the bed, desperate to feel his thatched chest tickling her sensitive nipples. Killian moved back, denying her pleasure with a sly smirk. “Roll over,” he rasped, finally pressing his lips to hers, quickly giving her a taunting kiss that he knew would leave her wanting more. She chased his lips when he pulled away, pouting her bottom lip out with a sulk.
“You’re a bad boy,” Emma chuckled playfully as she turned, resting her body on its side. Killian moved into the space behind her, his erection rubbing the crease of her ass and his lips finding the skin of her shoulder, sucking the flesh into a purple bruise almost immediately.
“You have no idea,” Killian whispered, his nose nuzzled into the space behind her ear and making the hairs there stand to attention with his words. They were enough to send her body into a shiver that was only eased by the huge arms wrapped around her and his hands trailing down the curve of her breasts and over the jut of her hips. Resting completely in his embrace, head on his bicep and with no space between them, Emma felt more loved than she had in a long time.
“What are you going to do to me?” Emma begged, feigning innocence. She knew exactly what he was going to do, she had known from the second he pressed his body to hers and had ghosted his hand over her stomach, moving lower but never touching where she wanted him to the most. Killian inserted his hand between her clenched thighs and lifted her leg back and over his hip, the half excited half impeded moan that left Emma’s mouth instantly surging to his groin.
“I’m going to…” he began darkly against the side of her face, his breath almost louder than his words. Killian slid his fingers down her inner thigh, so close to her exposed bundle of nerves that Emma tried to clamp her thighs around his hand but Killian stopped her by pulling her leg back onto his hip.
“Killian, please,” Emma whined, moving his arm she was laying on so that he was cradling one of her breasts in his hand.
“I can smell you,” he said gruffly, kneading the flesh in his palm. “You are so wet I can practically taste you, Swan.”
“Please…” Emma writhed again, the tightness between her open thighs a cruel torture that only Killian could devise. He angled his hips and his length smoothed over her entrance, poking at her clit before he withdrew and the sensation disappeared. Emma gasped and Killian held her tighter, repeating his thrust but never entering her. The angle was perfect, the ultra responsive nerve endings just inside of her exposed to his assault every time he rolled his hips.
“What do you want, Emma?” He panted into her ear, his voice like fire, licking at her need and burning away her insides.
“You,” she almost cried, the feel on his length sliding over her entrance becoming too much too quickly. She was so close and he hadn’t even entered her yet. “I want you.”
Killian reached between her legs, enjoying the gasp from her lips as he purposely brushed the heel of his palm over her clit and helped himself in. Her warmth sucked him in, tight and slick, and it finally felt like they were on their way home. Only, as soon as he began to move, the darkness inside of Emma reared its head and her body cried out for more of the self deprecating behaviour she craved.
“Choke me,” she whimpered between his thrusts, turning her head to catch his eye. Killian slowed him movements, sweat beading his forehead under the flop of his fringe as he fought to compose himself. Even her slightest movements were sending him towards the brightness of climax and he was a little confused by her words, his brow knitting together and he shook.
“Are you sure?” He gasped, his balls tightening at the mere mention of her words.
“Do it,” Emma moved his arm from her bosom until his hand was on her throat, the relief washing over her instantly. She felt like she could finally let go, let herself bathe in the brilliance only he could bring her, and when his grip tightened, her eyes rolled back in her head and she felt her entire body go limp in his grasp. “Don’t stop until I’m there,” she told him firmly as he began to move once more.
“I won’t,” Killian promised through a grunt, hips pistoning into her. The hand around her neck grew tighter, fingertips creating a line of inevitable bruises, the pain receptors under each sparking to life. Emma’s mouth fell open even wider as she gasped, her lungs burning with every breath, the lack of oxygen sending her into a panic that translated into pleasure everywhere else in her body.
Killian doubled his efforts, muscles bulging around her shoulders as he pulled her head to his chest, eager to give her the enlightenment she desired. Emma felt faint, the edges of her vision blurring and the heaviness in her limbs disappearing. Her lips tingled and the feeling in her legs disappeared, travelling up her body until with a frown she could feel nothing else and was shrouded in black.
There was no light where she was.
No warmth or comfort, just bleakness and the cold.
The deafening sound of silence, the empty expanse of her mind engulfing her completely.
“Emma!” She heard Killian shout but his voice was distant and muffled like he was underwater. She was floating, specks of light pricking behind her eyes each time she heard her name. “Emma! Baby, wake up!” Killian’s voice grew louder and she felt herself get pulled into a different position, a huge flat palm gently tapping the side of her cheek. “Come on, Emma, come back to me.”
She gasped, like she had erupted from the surface of a lake where she was surely drowning, inhaling hard and coughing as her eyes flew open and she clawed out at nothing. She felt flesh and hair, her hand colliding with what she assumed was Killian’s face as she blinked her vision into clarity.
“Emma!” Killian screamed, his voice full of relief. He bundled her spluttering figure, somewhat tinier than before, into his arms, holding her across his lap and rocking her back and forth like he was soothing a child. “Oh my God,” he whispered, lips pressed to her hairline, the words muffled against her skin.
“What...what happened?” Emma rasped, her voice physically changed and deeper. She was confused and her head pounded with a migraine like nothing she had ever felt before. She winced, closing her eyes to block out the glow of the bedroom lamp overhead.
“I am so sorry,” Killian whimpered, almost crying.
“Killian…” Emma choked out again, ignoring the scratch in her throat as she swallowed awkwardly. “What happened?” She repeated, stilling his rocking motion when she tried to sit up out of his embrace.
“I...you…” Killian stammered, his breath hitching between words. “I…” he tried again, his face screwing up as his emotion got too much for him and his tears spilled out of his eyelids. He buried his face in his hands, the sounds he made similar to when he had found out Liam was dead, like an animal caught in a trap in the most excruciating pain.
“Hey, hey,” Emma grabbed his hands instantly, pulling them from his face and cradling his head in her hands. “It’s okay,” she said softly, her own voice catching in her throat.
Killian launched himself into her arms, pulling her to him tightly as best he could in their sitting position on the bed, and Emma felt the tension leave him on a breath. “I didn’t mean to…” he sobbed into her shoulder, licking the tears from his lips quickly and holding the back of her head like it was a precious stone. “You passed out, Emma,” he pulled back from her and wiped away his tears with the knuckle of his thumb, pushing the skin of his cheek across his face until it was dry. “What if you…What if I had...” He paused, pinching his eyes closed and chasing away the thought of losing her at his own hand. “We went too far.”
Emma sat in silence, looking at the panicked look of his confession, the searing pain of his still visible handprint branding her neck. He was right, they had taken things too far this time. They had been dancing at the edge of darkness unaffected for too long, their reward worth much more than the risks, only now they had fallen into the depths and there was no beacon to guide them home.
“I’m okay,” Emma assured him again but she knew it was a lie. Things had changed between them and she knew that they had to change.
One month ago
For the last four weeks, there had been a tension between them. Emma knew it was her fault to a degree. She had pushed Killian too far, helped him cross a line he had promised he never would, all because she selfishly wanted her escapism in the form of her high. She craved it, still, but had forced herself to quit cold turkey from that day, the thick, purple hand mark around her throat a constant reminder of why. Killian had felt the most guilt, ramping up his drinking habits almost immediately, his rage increasing overnight with his feelings of inadequacy.
Emma had gone from seducing him to turning away, shying from his affections because she was petrified of needing more. She didn’t understand her addiction and couldn’t fathom how or when she had become so dependant on the release Killian could give her. All she knew was that it was something they needed to fix together but Emma was struggling to reach Killian and make him see that they needed help. Like any dependant, he thought he could fix things himself and they did not need the intervention of an outside party.
If Emma had only known how the rest of the day was going to pan out.
That morning they had talked a little about dinner and Emma had agreed to cook some sort of slow cooked casserole as it was one of Killian's favourites. A good, hearty, warming meal was just what they needed as the bitterness in the air had begun to creep in earlier in the evenings, Killian’s late night bar antics leaving him vulnerable to the cold. Alcohol had a way of tricking the brain into thinking the body was warm, so when he promised he would make a start on their fix by arriving home before dinner, Emma threw herself into prep.
When she heard the key turn in the door before nine that night, she smiled to herself, a real joy washing over her as she idly chopping vegetables in the kitchen. Maybe they could be saved after all.
“Swan?” Killian called, like so many other nights her had returned home. It was like he needed to hear her voice, make sure he had made it home and she was still there.
“In the kitchen,” Emma called back, fixing her gaze on the vegetable she was chopping, careful not to slip and cut herself. She heard him stumble in the foyer, grumbling to himself when he struggled to toe off his boots, and she lost her smile immediately. “How was work?” She called softly.
“Same old, same old,” Killian grunted, leaning against the dining table after he had appeared in the kitchen. His shirt was dishevelled yet again, his hair and beard unruly and as he shrugged off his jacket, Emma saw the pink tinge to his knuckles.
“How are your colleagues?” Emma prompted, averting her eyes back to her chopping.
“Chatty,” Killian bit out, evidently angry about something. It took everything Emma had not to turn around and comfort him the way she had been, the way they had been comforting each other, and as if reading her mind, Killian scoffed, a sound of disgust leaving the back of his throat in a guttural tone. “You want to make them stop?”
Emma stopped her chopping, resting the knife on the countertop and turning to face him, her arms folded over her chest and her feet crossed at the ankles. She was wearing just a pair of leggings, warm but practical with a pair of thick, slipper style socks and a small plain tee. She sighed a little, looking down at her wiggling toes. “You know I can’t do that.”
“That’s right,” Killian sneered. “You got better.”
“I didn’t get better,” Emma snapped, tightening her arms across her chest defensively. “I got wise.”
“Wise?” Killian laughed maniacally. “To me?”
“To us,” Emma said firmly, staring him down.
“Oh, I see,” Killian raised his voice, stepping towards her and wobbling a little on unsteady feet. “You don’t need your fix anymore so you don’t need me anymore,” he spat, jabbing an accusing finger at her.
“That’s not it,” Emma said calmly.
“Isn’t it?” Killian arched his neck, looking down at her suspiciously. “We don’t have sex anymore,” she shrugged, waving his hands around as if an audience was listening to him. “You haven’t kissed me in days, Emma. Fuck, we don’t even talk anymore!”
“We talk,” Emma nodded but he cut her off with another disapproving scoffing noise.
“Barely!” He squeaked, his volume rising a bit more.
“Look, it’s not my fault you are drunk all of the time! How am I supposed to talk to you, Killian? Tell me that. How am I supposed to talk to you when you are so full of rum you reek of the stuff!” It was Emma’s turn to shout now, her anger rising like bile in her throat.
“Oh, right, but it was okay for you to take what you wanted, huh?” Killian took a last step in her direction, his breath sour and bitter against her face as he shouted. “You didn’t seem to mind what I smelled like as long as you got what you needed!”
Emma barely lifted her head, looking at him with just the movement of her eyes. “Don’t,” she warned him, her voice low and her jaw clenched.
“Don’t what, Emma?” Killian boomed. “Don’t tell you the truth?” He laughed, shaking his head and little. “You get angry at me because you know I am right, and you can’t get angry at yourself. You are a fucking hypocrite, and you know it.”
“So what if I am?” Emma screamed at him, her cheeks flushing with prickles of red and her ear tips burning. He was standing so close to her she could practically feel him on her skin. “At least I realised it was wrong.”
Killian laughed, throwing his head back and planting his hands on his hips. It was a fake laughter, forced and evil, and it made Emma feel so small the sting of tears pricked at her eyelids. “Emma, you were willing to almost die to get your high. Don’t lecture me about what is wrong.”
“Drinking is not the same as sex,” Killian huffed. “You used me for your own emotional gain, and for what? Did it fix any of your damn problems, huh? Did it bring Liam back? No. We are still fucked up.”
A silence fell between them, the sound of their rapid heartbeats pounding in their ears on each breath. Emma stared at her feet, gripping the counter behind her for some sort of stability, Killian’s words cutting into her deeper than he probably realised. Killian moved first, stepping to the side with a disgusted shake of his head, and pulled open the cabinet behind her.
“What are you doing?” Emma snapped spitefully.
“Getting a drink,” Killian’s hand reappeared with a half consumed bottle of dark rum clutched tightly in his fingers. He slammed the door and Emma jumped, her eyes pinching closed and a feeling of dread seeping into her chest. She swallowed hard, watching the man she no longer recognised pull the cork from the bottle with his teeth and spit it across the room. He tossed his head back as he drank hungrily, finishing the rest of the bottle before he even needed to breathe.
“Is that necessary?” Emma raised an eyebrow at him.
“With all this judgement?” Killian quipped, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Absolutely!” He sang, slamming the empty bottle on the counter.
“You’re a bastard,” Emma snivelled, the lump in her throat making her voice squeak and her lip tremble.
“Finally!” He roared, again addressing his invisible audience. “I was wondering how long it would take you to cry!”
“Fuck you, Killian!” Emma shouted at him, leaning forward and smacking him hard in the chest. She knew the wounds from the bar fight were healed in the upper layers but they had taken longer in the sub layers of his skin and they were sore. He winced, rolling his shoulder backwards to absorb some of the blow, but giving her a cock sure grin that sent her into a further rage.
“You don’t like to hear the truth, do you Swan?” He jabbed. “You know I am right and it tears you up that a fucking drunk can see what you can’t!”
“You don’t know shit about the truth!” Emma screeched, fists balled at her sides.
“I know you hurt, we both did, and I know that the only way you could make it disappear was to fuck. How many times did we fuck for that reason, Emma? How many times did you use me?” Killian stepped back into her space again, eyes roaming over her tight fitting clothes that accented all of the curves of her body. He reached out his hand and let his fingers rest on her hip but Emma stepped back.
“Get off of me,” she sobbed, her voice low and full of rage, her back hitting the counter as she pulled away.
“Come on,” Killian jeered, trapping her against the counter with the weight of his body. “Don’t fight me, Swan. I know you are hurting now,” he said sickly sweet, his eyes watching his hand as he ran his knuckles down the curve of her cheek to wipe away her tears. Emma turned her face away, her nose turning up when the smell of stale smoke and ales filled her nostrils. “I can make it go away.”
“Killian, no,” Emma said firmly, planting her hands on his chest but unable to move him backward.
“Just think about how it will feel,” Killian purred against the side of her face, fingers gripping her lower jaw and turning her face back to his. The fear in her eyes set him alight and Emma felt him harden in his jeans, his erection pressing into her groin and evident through her leggings. “I know you want to feel.”
“No,” Emma said again, her resolve firm. “Not like this.”
“This is exactly how you made me feel,” Killian growled, releasing her jaw and reaching between them to fumble with the button of his jeans. Emma’s breath hitched in her throat, heat and sweat tingling at the base of her spine with panic. He grabbed her hand and shoved it into his boxers, closing her fingers around his length and giving himself a few strokes, his blunt fingers digging into her wrist so hard she cried in pain as she tried to pull away. “Used. Worthless. Like nothing,” Killian grunted, stroking himself harder with Emma’s hand.
“You are worthless!” Emma shouted at him and he paused his movements, mouth agape and glassy eyes darkened with fury. She pulled her hand free and pushed against his chest again, his body giving a little under her assault which made him take a shaky step back. “You are nothing!” Emma spat.
“You ungrateful cunt!” Killian seethed, surging forward and grabbing her by the throat with both hands. Emma screamed in fear, cowering away from his touch and raising her arms to defend herself. “I gave you everything and you won’t even give me this one little thing!” He sneered, sliding his hands to her shoulders and spinning her away from him.
“Help!” Emma called out, her cries falling on deaf ears. It was Friday night and their neighbours would be out for dinner or some other such activity. They were alone. She was alone.
Killian leaned his entire weight onto her back, pressing his elbow into the space between her shoulder blades until Emma had no choice but to lay face down on the cold countertop. Her tears pooled under her cheek, Killian’s hand holding the back of her head so tightly and making sure she was trapped. “If you won't give it to me,” he slurred darkly, grabbing the back of Emma’s leggings and pulling them and her panties down over her behind in one rough action that made her flush hot with horror. “I’ll take it!”
Emma was dreaming. She had to be. There was no way that the man she loved and had loved for over half her life would do this to her. There was no way that Killian Jones would let himself be so blinded by resentment, be so livid, that he would take it out on the woman he loved. Emma was terrified, the events unfolding in slow motion and the sounds of his hateful rant overwhelmed by the buzz in her ears.
That was when she saw her reflection, looking back at her, eyes puffy and red, from the polished steel blade of the knife. She didn’t recognise the person she had become, a meek, mousy thing without the strength to find her own light, but she would be damned if she didn’t have the strength left in her to determine her own destiny.
Emma kicked out, taking advantage of a split second in time when Killian swayed backward again, his inebriation on her side. Her foot connected with something hard and she felt him let her go as he stumbled back, doubled over in pain. She bolted upright, tears blinding her wide eyes and hands shaking as she grabbed the knife from beside the pile of freshly chopped vegetables and held it out in front of her.
“Stay the fuck away from me!” She wailed in a quivering voice, her hair messed up and only still half in a ponytail. She was trembling from head to toe, her adrenaline off the charts and she struggled to find the breath she needed to say anything else.
Killian sank to his knees with his hands covering his partly exposed member that had begun to shrink back into its flaccid state. He let out a groan, eyes tightly closed and chords of his neck straining to fight away the pain that had invaded his groin area. There was sweat across his brow and his face had paled. He opened his eyes, the clear blue back once more that made Emma’s heart swell with solace, and then promptly fell forward onto his hands and threw up a foamy, dark brown liquid concoction of rum and bile.
Killian coughed, the sound hacking in the back of his throat each time he alternated between clutching his stomach and his manhood, the dull aching sensation jumping from one to the other. He finally stopped retching and sat back up on his heels, exhausted and drained, arms hanging loosely at his sides and face wet from tears. Emma tightened her grip on the knife, fingers constantly repositioning themselves over the handle to get a firmer hold, but when Killian looked up at her with nothing but remorse in his eyes, she relaxed a little and let out a tense breath she had been holding.
He was pathetic, physically drained, a mere shell of the man he portrayed to the world. Killian was broken, a million pieces of who he used to be scattered all over the world. Some he had lost abroad, flashes of horrific memories imprinted on the back of his eyelids from service and an inner voice that never let him sleep. Some he had lost more recently, buried with his brother, never to return, just like the man he had called his hero. He blinked away his tears, his heart falling to his stomach when he realised he had finally hit the bottom of the bottle, the end of the road, and was at the lowest he could ever get in his miserable life.
There would be no coming back from this, the whites of Emma’s knuckles and the whites of her eyes evidence of her distress. How could he have let the demons win? How could he have been so weak? He had broken his promise, to Liam and more importantly Emma, and he in no way deserved mercy. He was now a slave to Emma’s retribution, the glint of the knife in her hand as she towered over him all he could focus on. He would willingly accept any punishment she saw fit if it meant she would spare him the ache in his heart he knew was coming.
“Emma, I…” he whispered through his tears.
“Get out,” Emma said darkly, tossing the knife back onto the countertop and reaching for her leggings, pulling them back up her shaking legs to try and regain some sense of dignity.
Killian’s chest heaved with another sob, his emotions on full display. “But I have nowhere to go,” he pleaded weakly, his beard dripping with foamy spittle and mucus dripping from his nostrils. He had nowhere, no one but her to run to, but he had crossed a line that not even she thought they could come back from. Emma looked at him and at what he had become. What she had let him become.
“This is so hard,” Emma snivelled, wiping her nose with her forearm. She knew what she had to do, even if it meant a sacrifice neither of them would have ever made before.
“Emma, no,” Killian implored, shuffling on his knees through the patch of cold, putrid sick between them but not even caring. “It doesn’t have to be,” he panicked, reaching out for her.
“Killian…” Emma sobbed, looking away.
“Emma, please, don’t do this. Don’t leave me,” Killian cried, his words catching in his throat, watery and muffled from his sorrow. He clutched at her legs and through the fabric of her leggings he felt Emma turn rigid under his touch.
“Killian, please, this is already hard enough,” Emma pushed against his shoulders weakly, her hands moving of their own accord to lace her fingers through his ruffled hair and pull his face against the warmth of her body. She felt him sigh, his cries filling the room, the cries of a man she didn’t even recognise anymore.
“Emma…” He began but she cut him off quickly.
“Look at you,” Emma cried. “This isn’t you. I can’t watch you destroy yourself anymore,” Emma sniffed, pulling his face from her sweater and tilting his head so he was looking up at her with wide, watery, childlike eyes.
“I’ll get help. I promise, I’ll get help,” Killian nodded in desperation.
“I don’t want to give up on you…” Emma told him softly.
“So don’t,” Killian interrupted her eagerly, his chest shuddering with another rack of sobs.
“You scare me,” she cried, the honesty in her voice shocking even her. Killian looked up at her and he was small, innocent and as much a victim of his own actions as she was, but he would never change if she didn’t find the strength. “I have to go, Killian,” Emma smiled weakly down at him, her tears falling down her cheeks. This time she did not stop them, letting the salt filled droplets fall from her chin. She brushed her thumb over the apple of his cheek and wiped at the tears that had burned lines into his scruffy, unkempt stubble littered face. “You can’t mend with me here. I can’t help you anymore.”
That night Emma walked out of their home, away from the blackness in her heart and the turmoil that had torn them apart for the last seven months. She didn’t look back, taking just a few personal items and the clothes on her back. She didn’t kiss him goodbye and he didn’t try to kiss her, because they both knew that if they had the faintest of contact it would set the fires burning within them once again and they would be back where they began, scrambling for the surface under a sea of sorrow.
This wasn’t her home anymore. It hadn’t been for a long time. Now New York was calling her name, a city full of lights where she could get lost and bathe in the eternal brightness of being nobody forever.
Both Are Infinite, Chapter 2
Summary: Busy single mother Emma Swan relies on her best friend, Royal Navy Captain Killian Jones, far too much to ever ruin things by acting on the crazy lust she feels for him. The boundaries between them are firmly set… until they’re not, and suddenly Emma and Killian are forced to confront the feelings they’ve been suppressing for far too long.
a/n: So it looks like this fic is going to be hitting all the tropes with a sledgehammer. You've been warned :)
Also on AO3
Art by @rouhn
Tagging @resident-of-storybrooke @teamhook @kmomof4 @wellhellotragic @rouhn because you’ve either been awesome and supportive of my earlier work or because you asked for it ;). Anyone who’d like to be tagged in future chapters please do let me know.
Chapter 2:
They had been on the road to Storybrooke for well over an hour before Henry finally settled down and dozed off in the back seat. The last time Emma had visited her hometown he had been just a baby, and although he knew his uncle David and aunt-to-be Mary Margaret well, the idea of going to what was basically a new place and meeting loads of new people made him both excited and nervous. Emma had been as patient as she could, understanding the effect that particular blend of emotions could have, but his constant barrage of questions and attention-seeking mischief had been extremely trying, especially while she was trying to get them packed and on the road at a decent hour, and she couldn’t help feeling relieved when Henry finally slept and the car was quiet. She glanced over at the passenger seat, where Killian was sitting, watching the scenery go by. As usual he’d been a huge help keeping Henry occupied and out of her hair while she took care of the packing and tidying the house, making sure he was clean and dressed and didn’t forget his favourite stuffed toy, a floppy-eared dog named Joe. What would it be like to have him around all the time, she wondered for the billionth time, and for the billionth time she stomped down that thought and buried its shattered remains deep in her subconscious.
Succubus Bucky from http://archiveofourown.org/series/582637 !! I really like this story, like a lot. <3 Also Bucky what did you do to my art style omg
Do you guys just ever think about that Chimera Ant AU that @softkillua and @xyliane came up with like forever ago? I’m still shook.
Geralt, but make him Steve Rogers
Jaskier