#ch: mercy ovalles.

[nattyanatchaya]

PRISCILLA QUINTANA and TOMMY MARTINEZ Good Trouble (Season 3)

#priscilla quintana #tommy martinez #tmartinezedit #tommymartinezedit #priscillaquintanaedit #pquintanaedit #goodtroubleedit #good trouble #* #ch: mercy ovalles. #ch: charity tavarez. #💕

[tokoyamisstuff]

Tender Ch. 1 - Loki x Mute! Reader

Summary: Even though Loki doesn’t understand why the new member of the Avengers should be kind to him of all people, he doesn’t want you to stop either.

Warnings: Loki being depressed, the Avengers being kinda mean, mentions of Torture and Death

Words: ~2100

[Story Masterlist] [All of my Works]

All eyes were on him again.

As soon as Loki would step inside, the previously lively room would fall completely silent. Well, it’s not like he wasn’t used to being the involuntary kill-joy...

Usually, the God of Mischief craved attention, may it be positive or negative - most of the time being the latter. But lately, after months of having all those distrustful and hostile glares piercing holes into him, he’d rather wish for the ground to swallow him whole.

“Umm, so...I gotta go.” Natasha was the first one to flee the unpleasant atmosphere, not even putting the energy into mutter anything else than a cheap excuse on her way out. Clint wordlessly followed her close after, but not without shooting the Odinson one last, spiteful look.

Loki on the other hand was picking on his hands, a nervous habit he had inherited from his mother. As much as he tried to avoid meeting their eyes, the tensioned aura they were emitting making him feel close to breaking down completely - but he would never give them the satisfaction to witness this, he swore to himself.

And yet: Maybe he should just leave. Disappear, forever.

Although he’d never admit, Loki had grown very tired of his life following this stirr path, unable to diverge into a new direction. Everything he did would ultimately bring death and destruction upon mankind, inflicting fear in the hearts of all people.

His whole existence was based on being condemned to fail - just for others to reach their ‘glorius purpose’.

“Great” Tony scoffed. “Now they’re gone. Well done, prince of nothing.” Steve cut his friend off, clearing his throat very exaggeratedly.

The god still hadn’t moved from the doorframe of the conference room, while all others were already sitting on the oval-shaped table. He didn’t got what all that fuss was about. If Steve didn’t insist him to attend this emergency meeting, he’d just have gone about his usual business and avoided everyone as good as he could.

“C’mon, brother” Thor sighed, well knowing that if his brother was to stay in the team, it would ultimatively drive a wedge between them. All that pressure in the air was straining for everyone, including himself. 

Tony on the other hand was pretty chill about everything, aside of being passive-aggressive. This was probably due to their similar coping styles.

Even though his near-death-experience back when he stopped the Chitauri was still eating on his mental health, he’d prefer glossing over it with stupid jokes and overly confident behaviour. “No sassy remark today, Reindeer Games?”

Stark was leaning back in his chair, arms crossed as he rose an eyebrow on the god, who only muttered a hoarse “No...not today.”

Yeah, it was kind of his style to break the unsettling silence through puny comments or self-glorifying speeches, to distract from his own insecurity.

But right now, he was just so damn tired.

Of this planet and it’s people, as well as the humiliating circumstances he had to dwell in. The fact that he was a prisoner at the Stark Tower, amongst his worst enemies. Being forced by his brother to keep up this meaningless act, as if he’d ever be seen as a team member or ally - when in reality, he was but a slave to the people he once ought to reign.

Just like back on Asgard: Never one of them, never belonging. No way to break free - for his true self was something to be loathed.

However, first and foremost the one thing he was especially tired of was himself, for he couldn’t get out of his own skin. Not only could he never be considered a hero, let alone be redeemed.

After all the atrocities he had commited due to Thanos’ torture and the tesseract’s influence,  now that he woke up from that naive dream of power stilling the emptiness in his dark heart, there was nothing left for him - other than to be haunted by his crimes until the mercy of death would overcome him.

“Well” Steve began, slamming his palms on the desk to attract everyone’s attention. “As you all know, we are welcoming a new team member today.”

“They all know?” Of course they wouldn’t let him in on such sensitive information. Not that he minded either way - one Avenger more or less, it didn’t matter how many people hated him in here.

“Please, come on in.”

Loki cleared the entrance when he heared Tony’s words, turning around in anticipation of another dull creature like the Hulk to torment him - but his calm demeanour dropped completely at this unusual sight:

“Y-You?!”

That was simply not possible! The last time he had seen you was almost a year ago, and you were on the brink of death at that!

“For everyone that doesn’t know yet: Her name is Y/N Y/L/N. She is one of the victims HYDRA experimented on, and they succeeded in forming an artificial mutant.”

Steve went on and on explaining about your powers, but Loki’s head had already turned on autopilot, the only thing he could concentrate on being how the hell you of all people ended up here.

All these months, he was desperately trying to get any information about you, all of his hints ultimately leading him to dead ends - and in the end, tragically believing in your imminent death.

The memories were still painfully vivid in his mind: It was his first mission together with the Avengers, at a HYDRA hideout with most likely no civil survivors.

Actually, he had planned to make his escape right when the others engaged in a fight, wandering the hallways of what resembled a torture chamber rather than a laboratory.

On the walls were several instructions, about a serum that might cause a human to mutate if they were exposed to unbearable stress - pain being the most effective method, apparently.

Yet instead of finding anything useful for his personal gain, he found you: A  beautiful woman, yet emaciated and lying in a puddle of her own blood. At first he thought you to be dead just like the others - but as soon as your faint whimpers drang to his ears, he burst the cell you were trapped in open, rushing to your side immediately.

“Shh...” the god scooped you up from the cold stone floor, wrapping his cloak around your broken body. “Everything is alright now. Your savior is here.”

Loki gasped as he felt your hand stroking his cheekbone, even through all your pain and weakness wanting to bid your hero this due respect.

“Hel...you humans are such fragile creatures...” Loki muttered under his breath, cursing his own lack of talent when it came to casting healing spells. “Hang in there, look at me!”

Your eyes were teary and bloodshot, yet not less fit to bring across a message no words ever could: Incredible gratitude, and admiration.

He could tell you were close to passing out when your hand left his face, falling limp to the side. But he held you firmly in his arms, not once stopping to utter sweet words of encouragement as he made his way to the ship, leading you into safety.

“Your world in the balance, and you bargain for one man?”

Those were the words he once directed at Black Widow - but only now he understood her attempts.

Saving one person could never make up for all the lives he had destroyed - and yet he knew that for you, it would mean the world none the less.

In one way or another, with your life at his mercy, he began to finally grasp the preciousness of life, and doing everything in one’s might to protect it.

“Reindeer Games” Tony tapped on his shoulders, making Loki wake from his pondering. “I’d appreciate if you didn’t scare her away on the first day already.”

Oh.

Just now he was noticing his own grim expression, having towered over your much smaller form this whole time with furrowed brows.

“My apologies” was his firm response, but you only shook your head, trying to tell him it was not a big deal.

So this was what you looked like when you’re not imprisoned, he realized when he took in your physique.

Much to his pleasure, all of your wounds had seemingly healed, and you finally gained some much needed weight. Like this, you looked so much more healthier - and most definetly even more bewitching than he remembered you.

If people had let him know, would he have visited your sickbed, aiding you towards health again? Who knows...

Yet somehow, he dwelled in the thought of you being able to lead a happy life now that you were free - which made your decision to seek out the Avengers in wish for more battles even harder for him to accept.

“You are incredibly strong, Lady Y/N” Loki spoke firmly, everyone else rolling their eyes at his usual exaggeration - but you knew he meant every word. “Be sure of my eternal respect.” 

The God of Lies’ eyes widened in excitement when you directed a warm smile at him, knowing for sure that this one was genuine. It wasn’t like those fake smirks the other Avengers gave him out of politeness, or the mocking laughs when they were making fun of or excluding him.

No - that one was just pure affection. And it left him in awe.

“Thank you for saving me back then” you signed, just for Loki shooting you a puzzled look.

“What, I thought the all-tongue knows every language?” Tony yelled, as inconsiderate as always. Thor was quick to explain on his brother’s stead, him still being deeply invested with you. “Every spoken one, yes. ASL is not one of our fortes.”

Usually, Loki had always been a quick thinker. But right now he was to bewildered by your appearance that thinking straight was out of the question.  

What language were they speaking of? And why have you not been saying anything up until now? Maybe his presence was making you uncomfortable, after all? Should he leave on your behalf?

To make it easier for him to understand, you rolled down your turtleneck, revealing the unsighty scar that covered your whole throat.

There were not many people bold enough to come close to the God of Mischief without warning, yet suddenly you simply took his hand and slowly led it to your neck.

How could you be so naive and offer someone like him such a vital spot?! He’ll never get the human philosophy...

And yet, the flabbergasted god hesistantly let his hand run over the scar, while you opened your mouth to no avail - for 11 months already, no tone would leave your vocal cords.

“I’m incredibly sorry...” Loki whispered with a sorrowful tone, while the others just stared in disbelief. “If only I was able to heal this wound back then...”

What a puny god he was...and an even more pathetic wanna-be-hero at that...

He would try to take a few steps back, but you took a hold of his hand, squeezing it with both of yours, that cheerful smile not faltering in the slightest.

“Please, don’t be sad. I’m only alive thanks to you!” Bucky, whose cousin was mute as well, translated what you were signing for Loki. His tone sounded quite irritated, not fitting those meaningful words. “I only wanted to join the Avengers because I want to be just like you. You’re my idol!”

Those words touched him deeply, igniting a flame inside of him he thought long to be defunct. Was it hope?

Of course it was not nearly enough to pull him out of that deep, dark hole he felt trapped in for as long as he could remember - yet somehow, he now felt that it was not impossible to escape.

While the others were cringing at your declaration, making jokes about ‘choosing wrong idols’ or would plainly not believe Loki to have a positive effect on anyone, the two of you would just stare at each other in silent admiration.

Shyly, you signed yet another word for him - and this time, Loki would know what you mean from pure intuition. 

He smiled.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Loki was able to smile again, just thanks to your heartwarming welcome. And he was still blissfully unaware about what effect you could have on him, if he was brave enough to let you close.

One thing was sure: You literally had him wrapped around his finger from the very start.

#Loki #Loki x Reader #Loki x You #Loki Odinson #Loki Laufeyson #Loki Friggason #Oneshot #Self Insert #Marvel #Disney #Fluff #Fem! Reader #God of Mischief #Loki / Reader

[artistic-writer]

Fragments of Home :: CS AU :: E :: Chapter 8

Title: Fragments of Home by @artistic-writer

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

Rating: E

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

Also on: AO3 - FF

A/N: Things are starting to get dramatic now, a little more angst before things get better.  But hey.  This is me. Many thanks to my lovely beta, @kmomof4 who persuaded me that this would work as a CS fic in the first place.  

——————————————————————————————

Emma had spent most her working day avoiding Jenny and making sure she kept herself busy. She didn’t even want to think about Killian, and seeing the smug, thin lipped smile on Jenny’s face made her seethe. But why? Killian had not proposed a relationship to her officially, and she had not minded really, her intention to leave Storybrooke always there. They had sex and it was good beyond arguable doubt, but she had found out the hard way that Killian was a liar. Most men were in her experience, and a tiny part of her wished she could have met her father’s doppelganger instead of Killian so she wouldn’t be feeling the emptiness she did now.

Killian Jones wasn’t special and Emma had spent a good portion of the day asking herself why she had let him in so willingly. It was unusual for her to be physically attracted to both a man’s body and his brain so easily. In most cases, men lacked the ability to own both a good body and a good brain, but Emma had seen something different in Killian. He was smart, and he was charming, and he was physically fit and healthy. He was, in terms of the female perspective, the ideal mate. He was perfect. He could provide, he could entertain and he could protect. Maybe that was why she had let him into her home, her shower, her heart and her bed so easily.

Maybe that’s why she hurt so much right now.

Some people would call her some unsavoury names for what had happened between them. If they were in a relationship, a real working couple that kissed, cuddled and held hands in public, then the shower, bedroom and on-call room romps would be considered lovemaking. They would be two, consenting adults in a relationship that made love, but because they had neither accepted nor denied they were a couple and had told no one about them being together, then Emma and Killian were just having sex.

‘Were’ was the correct term, as in past tense. After Killian’s little amnesia stint last night, Emma never wanted to see him again. She hated him, but not the hate of an indignant spouse but the hate of a woman who had been lied to. Killian had lied to her; she had proved that in her very own lounge. He had looked her in the eye and denied the fact he had slept with Jenny. If he had admitted it she might have been a little more understanding, but he hadn’t and she had no mercy left. Better to make a clean break now before things got complicated.

Standing in her kitchen, the bright LED lighting shining down onto her back as she made herself a cup of coffee, Emma had never felt so depressed. Even if she did hate Killian right now, it didn’t stop her from missing him. Emma leaned sideways against the edge of her counter, crossing her bare feet at her ankles and laying one arm over her chest. Her other arm was occupied with stirring her coffee, whisking the black, steaming liquid into a hurricane in her mug, idly wishing he was there to comfort her.

Emma had been stirring for a little over five minutes and her hand had grown clammy from its close proximity to the steam radiating from the coffee. She had taken a personal day so that he couldn’t find her at the hospital, and had gone for comfort dressing; Large, long pyjama pants that scuffed the floor under her heels and oversized red t-shirt. She didn’t remember where she got it from but it made her feel safe when she was feeling vulnerable. Her hair was tied back in a loose ponytail but a few stray strands sprang from behind her ears and fell to frame her face. Emma didn’t know why she was even having a coffee. There was no reason in it and she rarely even drank hot beverages unless she was in a restaurant, and even then it was hot chocolate, but for some reason, the churning blackness reminded her of Killian and she longed to taste him on her tongue again.

And then, as if on cue, her phone began to ring. Its shrill tone circulated her hall, echoing into the kitchen. Emma didn’t look up because she knew it was Killian. He’d called the house so many times since yesterday that she had stopped running for the phone in case it was someone else. Emma hadn’t said a word to him each time, just slammed the phone back down and stormed off with a growl. She could unplug the line at the wall, but then she wouldn’t get the tingling feeling she craved so much every time Killian’s sultry drone jumped from the answering machine.

“Emma, it’s me again,” Killian audibly sighed into his phone and his breathy grunt vibrated around Emma’s house. She stopped her stirring for a second, dragging the metal spoon up the side of the mug and letting a few drips fall back into the void. She padded from the kitchen, intrigued to be closer to his voice. Emma wished she were closer to him. Her heart ached for him and every time she tried to tell herself he was nothing, he would call back and she would go crashing back into the depressive void of wanting him again.

Emma paused next to the answering machine, trailing her finger over the speaker softly and tenderly like it was Killian’s face and she was teasing his lips with her thumb. If it were Killian, the corner of his mouth would turn up in a shy smile and he would dip his head low, averting his gaze with a slight chuckle. To Emma’s disappointment, the machine simply sat silent, Killian’s frustrated sighs the only sound coming from their speaker.

“I don’t know-,” He paused. “What do you want me to say?” His voice begged from the black, rubbery machine. He sighed again and Emma could hear him moving around, probably undressing for bed. It was late and she wondered why she was even still up. She cast a glance outside into the dark street, the only light coming from a few street lamps further down the street, glowing down onto the pavement and the bright glare of a car’s headlight at it drove past. The engine roared up the neighbourhood and a dog started barking in the distance, hastily told to be quiet by a gruff voice.

“Maybe you’re in bed already,” Killian’s words trailed off. If it was possible, Emma thought his voice was even more seductive than in person, deepened by the travel along wires and communication technologies that had it jumping into the room and making love to her ears. “I think we need to talk, Emma. There has been a mistake somewhere. I’m not the man you think I am. I would never-,” Killian softly pleaded with no one, his last words tinted with frustration. There was a long pause and Emma thought he was gone before she heard the crackle of movement from the other end of the phone. “I really like you, Emma. I miss you, love,” Killian finally whispered, letting his words linger in the phone a little longer before finally hanging up.

Before she knew what she was doing, Emma’s hand shot out and she grabbed the phone from the stand, clutching it to her ear in the hopes he was still there. Why had she turned off her cell again? Being away from him was becoming increasingly difficult and it had only been a day. The single dial tone entered her ear cavity and echoed against her eardrum, indicating the line was dead and Killian had gone. Emma’s entire body relaxed a little but the butterflies still fluttered around her stomach as she involuntarily clutched the phone harder to her ear. Even if she harboured a lingering doubt, Emma still missed him like nothing she could describe.

--

“ Mr Jones,” the hospital administrative secretary sighed from behind the desk in a tired tone. “Dr Swan doesn’t want to see you.” Her voice was defiant and even though she was small and very finely built, she was trying to act as aggressive as she could.

Killian shook his head, letting out a sigh with a downturned frown. He shuffled his feet against the tiled floor and the faint smell of cleaning fluid wafting in the halls of the pristine hospital. “I’ve just come to see a nurse and have my stitches out,” Killian admitted sadly. “I’m not here to see Em…Dr. Swan,” he correctly quickly, gulping hard at the mere thought of her.

It had been half a week since Emma had avoided him completely and he had postponed coming to the hospital to get his stitches removed in respect of her wishes. Emma didn’t want to see him and he felt too strongly about her to upset her anymore. Somehow he had already managed to slip into his own depression, the loss he felt too strong to deny even to himself, but the pull of the stitches against his scalp had become too painful to ignore anymore. He just hoped he could be in and out before Emma spotted him.

The receptionist looked up at him and she softened a little. He looked pathetic and beaten, his three days of facial growth starting to curl back towards his skin and his eyes blackened from lack of sleep. She tore her eyes from his dishevelled clothing long enough to type his name into the computer and make a note that he was here. “You’re lucky,” she lied, bumping his name to the top of the list through pity. “If you go straight to curtain three, Jenny can take your stitches out now, and then you can go get cleaned up before Emma sees you like that,” she stared at him over the rim of her oval glasses and gave him a serious nod.

Killian nodded in agreement and took the chart she handed to him. “Thank you,” he breathed, his mouth twisting at the corner in the first smile that had graced his lips in nearly four days. It didn’t sound like a long time, and he had seen Emma for even less time, but now that he knew she possibly never wanted to see him again, he was so scared. He was scared of going to work every day and having to explain to David why he wasn’t working to his full potential. He was scared of having to admit to himself that maybe he had been wrong at one stage in his life and losing Emma was some kind of wicked karma. Most of all, Killian was scared of never being able to tell her how much he now realised he loved her.

The hospital was quiet today, especially for a Wednesday. Emma always had half days on Wednesdays and she had previously agreed to let him take her to lunch today. Killian dragged his feet, keeping his head hanging low as he made his way into the triage unit and tried not to think about it. He paused and his rubber soled shoes squeaked on the floor underfoot while he lifted his head and inspected the vibrant red numbers hanging from a solid metallic pole on each cubicle. He spied curtain three and then saw some shadows moving underneath the rippled pink fabric, cast across the green of the linoleum floor by some hospital issue slip-on shoes.

Pulling back the curtain, Killian saw the back of the nurse he had been assigned. He shuffled into the cubicle and took a seat down next to the tray of implements, each one as sharp and silvery as the one sitting next to it. They all rested on some dark blue tissue paper and Killian stared at his reflection in them for a second.

“Okay, what can I do for you today?” The nurse chimed, her dirty blonde locks swinging half a second slower than her body as she turned around to look at the man in front of her. She was still arranging her latex gloves on her fingers and reached out to pick up the chart Killian had left sitting next to the tray on tools in front of him. “Killian…Jones?” she gasped shocked, snapping her head up to look at him with wide eyes.

Killian knew who she was as soon as she had turned around. Her hair had changed length but was still the same colour. Light, yellowing blonde mixed with some traces of darker, browner hairs but it had grown longer and she’d straightened it. Her cheeks flushed with a pink glow and she went rigid, her fingers turning white against the cool plastic of the chart in her hand. The silence in the cubicle was deafening and Killian’s eyes darted to the nametag that was pinned to the pink jersey covering her salmon scrubs.

“Jenny?” he spat, leaning back and crossing his arms across his chest. “That’s original,” he growled, staring at her.

Jenny shifted her position and hugged the clipboard to her chest, the plastic of her nametag clattering against the metallic clip at the top of the board. “I had to change my name,” she shrugged, tossing her hair back over her shoulders. “I couldn’t get within a hundred yards of you called Shelley, now could I?”

Killian clenched his jaw. “That was the point, Shelley,” he droned angrily. “It’s called a restraining order for that exact reason.” Killian stood and paced the cubicle, rubbing his fingers through his stubble and exhaling hard. His breath condensed against his palm and he balled his hand into a fist, pounding it loosely against his forehead. “I could have you arrested right now,” he grunted, turning to look at her.

Jenny, formerly Shelley, stalked towards him, stopping by the table of implements and resting Killian’s chart on the tray with a clatter of metal against plastic. She reached out to touch him on the arm, smoothing her fingertips over the fabric of his coat as her eyes molested his body. “No,” she sighed dramatically. “You really couldn’t Killian.”

Killian whipped his gaze towards her and narrowed his eyes. He shook her hand from his arm and took a step back from her, stumbling into the cupboard of medications behind him. He stared at her questioningly, tilting his head and letting out a sadistic laugh as he balanced his weight behind him on the countertop, eyes wide with realisation. “Of course.” Killian shook his head, cursing himself for being so ridiculous. “You’ve changed your name,” he breathed.

“That’s right,” Shelley said triumphantly, taking another step towards him. “And the restraining order was issued for a Shelley Madison, not Jennifer Madison,” she smirked evilly. “You can’t touch me, Killian. Although, I wish you would.” She pouted and gave him a hungry stare, biting her bottom lip.

Killian looked at her again and took another step away from her. “You’re crazy,” he whispered. “I don’t know what you think you’ve accomplished by doing this…” Killian began but her excited rant cut him off.

“Don’t you see?!” She sang enthusiastically, clapping her hands together at her chest. “Killian, we can be together now. You and I can be together, just like we want.” She nodded at him with a broad smile on her face.

“What?!” Killian snapped, holding out his hand and pointing to her. “You want that,” he accused. “I never wanted that. You…” he said, pointing to her menacingly and letting a short burst of laughter bubble from his throat. “You are insane, Shelley.” Killian pulled open his jacket and reached into the inside pocket for his cell phone. He swiped the screen open and punched in three numbers.

“What are you doing, my love?” Shelley soothed, watching his hands as he dialled and then lifted the cell phone to his ear. Her smile faded and her eyes searched his face.

“I’m calling the bloody police, Shelley,” Killian said loudly, turning from her and stalking across the cubicle again. “There is absolutely no way you managed to change your name legally,” he accused sharply, pointing at her again. Shelley blushed and looked down to her feet, confirming his accusation. “And you are breaking the terms of the order right now!” Killian bellowed, pointing to the floor angrily.

“Okay, so I sort of acquired a fake ID and stuff,” Shelley said with a shrug, walking towards him and reaching for the phone pressed to his head. Her long, delicate fingers traced over Killian’s knuckles, sliding down to his palm and across the cell phone. Killian spun to her and pulled her hand away from his roughly.

“Don’t touch me,” he spat, his voice dark and void of emotion. “Everything you touch just dissolves around me!” he roared. “I went on one date with you. One date! We never kissed. We never slept with each other. And yet, you thought the complete opposite and my life was ruined!” He took a step towards her, his blood boiling under his skin and making his entire body hot and clammy.

Shelley smiled at him sweetly and Killian thought he might throw up. “Why are you so mad, lover?” she whispered at him, flicking her tongue out across the cherry red lipstick on her lips.

“Mad?!” Killian laughed wildly, turning from her again. “I’m not mad,” he shouted sarcastically. “Why would I be mad? I’ve only had to move house, change my car, my email, my phone numbers,” he trailed off, waving his arms erratically around the small, enclosed space. He took a long breath, trying to push away the hatred he felt for her. “I had to get a bloody restraining order to keep you away from me!”

“That’s just a technicality,” Shelley smiled, running her fingers through her hair. She turned from him, sighing dramatically and rolling her eyes. “Like that sickly cute blonde you’ve been seeing.” Her voice turned darker, tainted with jealousy, and Killian spun to face her, his jaw hanging open.

“You,” he growled accusingly, willing the police to answer their ringing telephone. Everything became clear. Jenny wasn’t someone he had been trying to remember for the last three days; Jenny was someone he had been trying to forget for nearly two years. Only, Emma didn’t realise that and he had to tell her before she gave up on him forever.

“Aww,” Shelley cooed with an evil grin when she saw his realisation. “It’s okay, baby,” she soothed, stepping towards him again. Killian took a step back and was suddenly pressed against the wall. “She couldn’t love you like I do anyway,” Shelley whispered, pressing her hands to his chest. Killian looked over to his left, noticing the red, security button hidden between a mess of tangled tubes and an unplugged heart monitor. He quickly pushed against Shelley’s shoulder’s, making her stumble in her heels that clicked against the floor and he flattened his palm over the button, immediately calling for security just as the call to the police finally connected.

“Thank the gods,” Killian whispered to himself. “Hello, my name is Killian Jones. I have a restraining order out against a Shelley Madison and she is breaking the terms right now. Yes, I’d like her arrested. Now,” Killian said, staring over at Shelley’s shocked face as the woman on the other end of the phone busily tapped away at a computer, searching for the order. Killian told the woman on the telephone where he was and no sooner had he done so, two burly security guards burst into the cubicle with police static erupting from their shoulder bound radios, and arrested Shelley.

“You can’t quit our love!” Shelley crowed as one of the guards wrenched her hands behind her back and handcuffed her. Killian stepped aside as she was lead from the cubicle, his only thought of Emma. He had to find her.

--

So far, Emma’s day had been eventful, but so far, there had been no Killian Jones to ruin it. A few runny noses with a side helping of sickness meant the city was heading for an outbreak. Emma had treated seven patients today with the same symptoms, two of which had been admitted after spontaneously fainting, and three of which felt like they could pass out and had been brought in by a concerned family member.

It wasn’t even a prejudice bug either because all of her patients ranged from a few months old to the elderly. There was so much coughing, patients heaving in their beds and gasping for much needed air after each convulsion, Emma had taken it upon herself to wear a mask. The thin, light blue cotton fabric wasn’t a surefire fail safe way of prevention, but it was as good of a prophylactic as anyone who worked in an ER would get.

And then there was Jenny, the delicately beautiful and sickeningly sweet nurse who had haunted Emma’s every thought. She often sat on her own, filling out paperwork, wishing she was writing out the time of death on Jenny’s death certificate. Even if she wasn’t qualified to actually do that, it still felt good to daydream. Apparently, when she returned from lunch, there had been some kind of commotion in the emergency room and Jenny had been carted off in steel bracelets.

A satisfied smile crept across Emma’s face, much like the one she had worn when she had been told about Jenny’s rather public exit from the hospital, and she sighed happily, holding onto the feeling she held in her heart. It was warm, almost heated from the depth of Hell itself, and she knew it was wrong to feel like it but she didn’t care. Emma had got her retribution on Jenny, or at least, someone watching over her had made sure she had.

Rounding the corner to her neighbourhood, Emma was met with the blinding deep orange of the sunset over the horizon. It still blazed in the sky, making her squint and instantly reach up for the sun visor of her classic bug. It slapped against the windshield and when Emma opened her eyes wider, she gripped at the steering wheel in half anger, half anticipation of what she saw standing in her parking space.

Killian looked worn and tired and he hadn’t shaved in a few days, and even that was just a guess. His jacket was dirty and his skin was almost the same colour as the ground he was standing on. As the car neared the space and she stopped it in the road, he quickly rushed to the side, motioning for her to roll the window down with a waving of his hand. Emma gulped, looking away from him quickly and gripping harder to the wheel. If she didn’t, she’d be tempted to push the door open and tend his wounds, righting his wrongs and mending his broken heart with all the forgiveness she could muster. Emma was trapped between two levels. On one she desperately wanted him to tell her he had never ever met Jenny and she wanted to believe him. On the other, her rationale told her that regardless of how broken he seemed right now, his suffering was worth it because of how he had made her feel.

Finally, she grabbed the outdated handle and began winding it backwards, the glass sliding against the rubber seals as it opened. She kept her eyes forward, not looking at him as he spoke her name like a whisper of relief. “Emma.”

Killian’s heart twisted in his chest and he had totally forgotten what he wanted to say at the mere sight of her. “Get out of my space, Killian,” Emma said, her voice tired and physically drained. Her shoulders slumped against the back of the seat, aching but itching for his touch.

“Emma, please listen to me,” Killian tried again, stepping closer to the car. The engine was still running, ticking over in the quiet street and it took all Emma had not to jerk forward and leave him standing in the void of her allocated parking space.

“Killian, please,” Emma stopped him, tilting her head back and audibly sighing into the car. Killian watched her closely and swallowed a lump in his throat. He wanted her to say she knew. He wanted her to tell him that she understood. If she didn’t it would be hard to explain and even harder to understand as an outsider. Finally, she turned her weary head towards his and peeled her eyes open to meet his. “Are you going to move or do I have to park down the street?”

Killian felt all the blood drain from his face at her cold, harsh words. They were not what he had been expecting and they took him by surprise. He blinked a few times, staring at her dumbly with his mouth agape and the wind tugging gently at his jacket. One side flapped open and Emma sighed, stepping on the rubbery pedal and accelerating past him toward the next space around the corner.

“Emma! Wait!” Killian’s eyes went wide and he bolted after her car, his boots pounding the asphalt as he chased after her car. The wind whipped at his face, prickling against his cheeks and turning them a rosy pink shade as he thudded to a halt in the middle of the road, unable to keep up with the pace of the bug. His arm hung loosely at his sides and he grabbed his sides, desperately needing oxygen in his muscles. He pinched his eyes closed and hunched over painfully, panting hard and his lungs burning from his sudden exertion. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of one of the neighbour's walls, so without further thought, he sprang for it, leaning against the gritty wall of the red brick building and waited.

Emma sat in her car for fifteen minutes, just to make sure he had gone. She could hear every second ticking down on her watch combined with the gentle sounds of her engine as the bug cooled down. As she sat in her car, she contemplated many things. She considered driving back to the hospital to find out why Jenny had been frogmarched out of the ER in handcuffs. She considered rushing out of the car and into Killian’s arms, telling him she didn’t care who he was because she was in love with him. And above all, she considered leaving Storybrooke and never returning.

Killian looked at his watch for what felt like the hundredth time in a minute and the illuminated hands gently ticked on by. Emma had gone around the corner over fifteen minutes ago and still, she had not returned. The sun had finally dwindled in the sky and the street lamp above Killian flickered to life. He tilted his face up towards it, listening to the hum of electricity surge through the stem of the lamp, igniting the fake daylight that basked his sorrowful face in a dim orange glow.

His intrigue was so engrossed in the inner working of the lamp that he nearly missed Emma as she walked past. Her head was held high, and her keys jingled in her hands as she fiddled for her front door key, the metallic objects clinking against each other and grabbing his attention. Killian looked over at her, double taking when he mistook her silky, yellow hair for a darker chestnut brown in the darkness. When she passed under the next streetlamp and it illuminated her tresses with the radiance of the sunrise, Killian stumbled over his feet to catch up.

“Emma!” he called, jogging to her and his breath leaving his mouth and instantly cooling into condensation in the air. “Emma, please wait,” He begged, quickening his pace when she did.

“No, Killian,” she said firmly, clinking her low heels harder on the ground as she strode determinedly for her front door. All she had to do was reach the gate. All she had to do was cross over the line between the real world and her childhood land of dreams and fantasies and she would be safe.

“Emma, I can explain. I can explain everything,” Killian tried again, quickly shooting a glance down at the ground as he walked, careful not to trip her up with his incessant pleading. He was walking awkwardly beside her, half in front of her, half to her side and he was holding out his chilled hands to her in a forgiving beg. “Please!” he said a little firmer, stepping in front of her and jogging back down the sidewalk.

Emma clutched her bag harder to her torso, the well sewn brown leather feeling sticky under her sweaty fingertips. She kept her focus on the ground before her, the flash of gum and stains that were stuck to the pavement passing her eyes as she strode forward. “Killian,” she tried again, not looking at him but letting out a growl of frustration when he began to slow down in front of her. She stopped dead, two houses from hers and her shoulders slumped back in their joints when she looked back up to him. “What?”

Taken back by her callous, snappy words, Killian stopped for a second. He kept his distance, at least a few feet from her and felt the heat generated from chasing her invade his skin under his shirt and pants. His cheeks prickled with heat and he panted, swallowing a lump down his constricted throat. “Something happened today,” he began softly. “Something you should know about.”

Emma bit her bottom lip and rolled her eyes sideways, catching the stare from an elderly neighbour who was watching them out of her window, curtains twitching sideways a few times. Emma let her eyes fall closed and she pinched the top of her nose between her thumb and finger, letting her breath leave her on an audible sigh. “What, Killian? Because I’ve had a really, really bad day. Week in fact. You-.” She pointed at him and dug her finger into his chest as she stepped forward. “I’ve had a bad week because of you.”

Killian took a step back and quickly looked behind him when his foot caught on a lump in the pavement, the thick, crumbly root from a nearby tree bursting up through the hardened ground. “I’m so sorry, love,” Killian said sincerely, reaching for her hand, her skin much warmer than his own. Emma pulled her hand from his, lifting her gaze to his once more. His eyes were the lightest shade of grey blue she had seen them in a long while and he reminded her of a nervous child when they had been caught doing something they shouldn’t.

“Sorry doesn’t take away how I feel, Killian,” Emma snapped, brushing past him and hurrying up her front steps, muttering as she did. “I’ve built these walls around me, for so long, and you come in and somehow tear them down, making me feel for you!” Her shoes clicked against the ground and were finally dulled when she stepped into her house and slammed the door in his face.

“Emma!” Killian called, shooting a glance around the empty street before following her steps up to the front door. He turned sideways, falling against the old, creaking wood onto his shoulder and he let his head loll to the side and rest against the door. “Emma, please, listen to me,” Killian pleaded quietly, his breath condensing against the painted door as he spoke.

Emma swallowed hard, leaning back against the front door and covering her face with her hands. Her head fell backwards and she panted hard in long, angry breaths, trying to forget the fact that there was barely two inches of wood between them. Emma could swear she could feel Killian’s body heat radiating through the door and it made all of her hairs stand to attention. She hated how he made her feel. She hated her body’s reaction to him. Even just seeing him, her body surging with anger and adrenaline, had made her stomach do flips and she had fought to keep her tone of voice aggravated. No one had ever got through the wall before, into her heart, and made her feel so loved. She cleared her throat and kept her eyes closed. “I’m listening.”

Killian heard her words, barely a whisper through the door and felt a wave of relief wash over him. “Thank you,” he said softly, his words barely audible to even him. He pressed his hand to the door beside his face, his fingertips splayed out against the wood as he watched them flex next to his features. Killian took a deep breath and rolled his forehead against the door. “Emma I know how you found out about Jenny. I want you to know, it didn’t happen how you were told,” Killian paused, waiting for her response.

The name on his lips was enough to make Emma fume on the opposite side of the door and she was thankful he couldn’t see her jaw clenching and her fists balling into tight, white rimmed shapes at her sides. There was a silent pause and then she heard him inhale to start talking some more. “Her name isn’t Jenny. It’s Shelley. Shelley Madison.” Killian’s voice was desperate and muffled through the wood.

For a second, Killian thought Emma might have walked off and left him talking to the peeling black paint layered over the front door. He couldn’t hear anything, not even her breathing or an imagined heartbeat through the barrier like he had before. He looked down to his feet, focusing idly on the potted plant that had long since dried in the sunshine sitting beside the doormat. He was about to call her name to confirm her presence when he heard the door latch click with a dull clatter and felt the door pull from the safety of the frame. Killian gulped hard and stood erect, searching her face when she stepped into view. “Go on,” Emma whispered, her tone lighter than before.

Killian let out the breath he had been holding and continued. “Two years ago, some guys at the office set me up on a blind date with a woman named Shelley,” he started, watching her face as she digested the information he was telling her. “We went on one date before I realised she wasn’t the kind of person I wanted to be with.”

“How did you tell her?” Emma rasped, her voice low and her brow furrowed as she interrupted him. She was searching for an excuse to still hate him, a reason to rebuild the barrier around her heart.

“I’m sorry?” Killian said with a shake of his head. Her question confused him for a second and he stared at her with his mouth open.

“How did you tell her you didn’t think you should see her again?” Emma repeated slower and more sarcastic than before.

Killian averted his gaze to the ground again and licked his lips nervously. He pinched his eyes closed and let his words leave his mouth quietly. “We exchanged numbers and I said I’d call her.”

“But you never did,” Emma interrupted him again, finishing his shameful admittance for him. Killian looked back up to her sheepishly and Emma let out a low laugh. “You’re a bastard, Killian,” Emma scoffed, stepping back into the house and pushing hard against the door.

“No! Wait,” Killian stepped into the door, wedging his foot in between the door and its frame. Emma slammed the door against his foot and Killian gritted his teeth when the pain he tried to tell himself it was worth shot up his leg. He knew Emma was worth it and she deserved the truth. “I was going to call her,” Killian argued, feeling her release the door from his foot and then the rush of blood to the area as it began to bruise in his shoe. His hand came up and he gripped to the doorframe, supporting his weight and taking it off his foot subtly. “Work got in the way and then she called me.”

Emma studied his face and tilted her head to the side. “What did you say to her?” Emma asked quickly, folding her arms across her chest and letting the door swing open against her better judgement.

Killian looked up at her and shrugged. “I told her we were not right for each other. That she shouldn’t waste her time with me.”

“Why do I get the feeling there is more to this story?” Emma said with an exhausted sigh. Her voice was laced with agitation and tiredness. All she wanted was for Killian to get to the point in his story. Killian looked at her and straightened his posture but did not step into the house. “Get to the point, Killian.”

“Things got worse,” Killian said quickly. “She stalked me. Followed me to work, home from work, and wherever I went during the weekends. She’d call me day and night, declaring her love for me and telling me how we were meant to be together,” Killian’s declaration of truth was interrupted by Emma’s giggling and he watched her shake her head with a confused frown.

Emma caught him staring at her and brushed her hair from her brow with a quick sweep of her hand. She shook her head and sent her frayed, blonde hair tumbling over her shoulders. “Now you know how I feel, Killian,” Emma said, the sarcasm in her voice erupting into the hallway.

“Emma, it isn’t funny. I’m sorry if I’ve made you feel in any way uncomfortable,” he said with pink in his cheeks. “I knew what you had been told was wrong, and you deserve to know the truth.” Killian finally stepped into the house and pushed the door closed behind him. “You can tell me to leave, and I’ll respect whatever your heart desires if that is truly what you want. I just wanted the chance to explain everything.”

Emma’s laughter faded away slowly and she looked up at him. He looked pathetic. Not even his well pressed suit could disguise the fact he had days of facial hair growing from his chin, spiky and radiating in all directions. His eyes were filled with a watery glint of something she couldn’t place and he really looked ready to give up. Emma sighed and twisted her mouth sideways, looking and staring blankly into her lounge. “You’re serious aren’t you?”

“Deadly. Emma, I am not that kind of man, I give you my word,” Killian said softly. “I had to get a restraining order, change my email, phone numbers, my car, my address. I had to leave everything. Even move the business across the state,” he sighed, running his hand over his brow that had begun to drip with tiny beads of sweat under the hot, hallway lighting above his head.

Emma was taken back. “A restraining order? Oh my God, Killian.”

“Now do you see? The nurse at the hospital, Jenny or something, that wasn’t her name,” he shook his head and his words left his mouth in a relieved breathy whisper. “Shelley had changed her name illegally, some fake documents the cops said, and got a job at the hospital for God only knows what reason. Emma, she still thinks we should be together and that conversation you overheard that day at the hospital? About me? That was part of her plan to get rid of you.”

Emma’s eyes went wide with shock and she suddenly felt violated. She narrowed her gaze and tilted her head. “She knew about us?”

“Emma, she knew everything,” Killian said, his voice cracking with a sudden fear.

“Where has she been for two years? Why hasn’t she surfaced before now?” Emma asked, confused.

Killian felt his body flush with a pink glow and he looked away from her, watching his feet shuffle on the carpet. “I haven’t exactly dated in two years. I’m so sorry. This is all my fault,” Killian growled to himself, scratching the patch of skin behind his ear, something Emma had noticed he did when nervous. “I should have realised. I should have noticed her at the hospital but, truth be told, all I saw was you.” Killian lifted his gaze to hers and blushed a little, swallowing hard.

“You were at the hospital today,” Emma said surely. It wasn’t a question because she knew he had been there. Even before she had heard about Jenny or Shelley, put two and two together just now, she had known. Killian was like a presence she could feel wherever she was. “That’s why Jenny was arrested.”

“Aye,” Killian nodded, his feet steadfast on the ground while his heart tugged at his brain to tell them to step towards her. “I went to get my stitches out. Guess who was my assigned nurse?” Killian said with numb sarcasm. “When I realised who she was and that she was breaking the terms of the order, I had her arrested.”

Emma let out a long sigh and felt her guard drop as her body relaxed. It made sense, and even if it did seem highly far fetched, something in Killian’s voice told her it was all true. Emma lifted her hand to her mouth and nibbled on her thumbnail, her entire brain rushing with thought. She could still hate Killian but to be honest, all she felt for him was sorrow. She had jumped to conclusions and led herself to believe that he was nothing more than another guy who would use her.

“What are you thinking?” Killian asked softly, resting his hand to her shoulder and shaking her from her thoughts.

Emma jumped a little, her eyes darting to his hand on her shoulder, searing her flesh through the coat she was still wearing and then to his eyes. She didn’t know why she had chosen that exact moment to make a joke, but unable to shake the thought from her brain, she let it slip from her lips with a smile.

“You hadn’t had sex in two years?” She laughed, arching an eyebrow at him. “And you broke your celibacy with me?” She took his hand from her shoulder, watching as her own fingers traced the ridges of his knuckles.

Killian relaxed and laughed with her as he shook his head. “Emma, you did something to me that day I met you. Something I have never felt before but something I’m pretty sure I want to feel for the rest of my life.” As his laughter subsided, Killian twisted their hands until he was caressing hers this time. “If you’d let me, I’d like to take you to lunch. I’d like to start again and forget about this whole Jenny thing, alright?”

“Like a date?” Emma felt her heart flutter again, a feeling she had missed since he had been gone, and she stared at him with a smile. She let her eyes fall closed and she nodded softly. “Okay,” she agreed lightly. “Tomorrow, you can take me to lunch.”

Killian lifted her hand to his mouth and brushed his lips over her knuckles. The soft, wispy beard on his jaw scratched at her hand but Emma did not notice. “Lunch, tomorrow,” he repeated, kissing her skin, letting his lips linger on her knuckles longer than he had intended. “Thank you, Emma.”

“Wear something sexy,” Emma teased, letting her hand slip from his as he walked back towards the door, a relieved sigh leaving his mouth on a laugh.

#cs ff #cs fanfic #cs fic #cs au #fragments of home #foh #ch 8 #architect!killian #doctor!emma