#edit: oh fridge wrong blog but whatever

[bbnibini]

Holy shit

[tillthelandslide]

Oh F*ck It

A/N: Hi everyone. I actually quite like this one, so I hope you all like it too. I appreciate any and all feedback. All of your support has been amazing, especially the wonderful people on my taglist, you guys know I love you all so much xx

Side Note: Part 7 of Jersey Love is on hold for the moment so I can finish writing and editing other stories and make my way through my requests. Hope thats okay. Love you all so much - L

Tag List: @harrysthiccthighss @thereisa8ella @magdelen69 @henrythickcavill @hc-geralt-23 @kissthatlifeaway @darkbooksarwin @august-w-princess @speakerforthedead0 @pixie1484 @constip8merm8 @tigerbroadwaybaby @agniavateira @summersong69 @aestheticallywinchester @stephartrave @al-wiisa @henrycavillfanpage @intenselikes @anat2507 @ellixthea @aguspalazzo @1ookatthestars00 @wintersoldierslut @michelehansel @cavill-sass @thecavillstache @xelizabethvalentinex @sesamepancakes @tumblnewby @thefangirlsblog @sugarmelonwater @madbaddic7ed  @bakika @abundanceofsoph​ @noisymist

(if you would like to be added to my tag list, feel free to message me,    if you are new to my blog then I post Henry Cavill fanfics and make    Henry Cavill fake Instagram posts, my requests are open so feel free to    request anything  and I will try my best to make your vision come to  life. Edit: requests are still open but there might be a delay as I am  working my way through the current ones and all other stories I am  writing)   

Love. What a load of bullshit, you hated the idea of love. The idea that people could love someone despite how shitty they were pissed you off. Sure you knew people weren't perfect but come on, some people could just do better, be better. You felt genuinely awful when you found yourself thinking certain people didn't deserve to be loved. And you had begun to think that the thought in your mind meant you too didn’t deserve to be loved.

People often told you, "Y/n, you're too kind", "Y/N you're too good for him" and that too pissed you off. How could you be too good for one person and not good enough for someone else? That was the story of your life, the people you loved, didn't love you back, and the people that loved you, well... They fell under the formerly mentioned category of "not deserving love" and you suppose that fact was the reason you were yet to find someone. You were stuck up, only you thought it but it was still true. Someone who thinks there are people who don't deserve love, is stuck up, surely? Your friends and family would tell you that they agreed that some people don’t deserve love but it didn’t make you feel better, it made you hate the human race just a little more than you already did. You were kind, you knew that, only the people closest to you knew of these thoughts that you hated to have and the rest… they knew you as a lovely girl, a positive woman who worked hard and was strong. But that was the facade you presented.

You wish you were the type of person that believed everyone deserves love, but you weren't.

So here you were, sitting in your apartment drinking a beer all by yourself, waiting until your only true friend finished filming and came and listened to your moaning. Who is that friend you ask? The one, the only; Henry Cavill. How the fuck he was your friend you'll never know. He was about 7 years older than you but that didn't stop you from being best friends with him. He was a genuinely nice guy, the most humble person you knew (even in his position), he was kind and loving and you always told everyone he was the best thing that ever came into your life. He may be a recurring guest star in the filthiest of your dreams and fantasies but you'd never let him know that. You had the biggest crush on him but covered it up with witty and sarcastic humour, sure the two of you flirted but neither of you had the guts to progress your friendship, his fans knew you as his best friend and you thought it would stay that way until he inevitably found a girlfriend.  Little did you know that Henry felt the same way about you, in fact he was very much in love with his best friend, people said that you were too young but when you were together age was never an issue, in fact it was something Henry forgot about most days, only really thinking about it when someone had to comment on it (usually an ignorant reporter or pap)

You heard your door open, the jingle of keys, a coat being thrown somewhere, the sound of footsteps leading away from you into your kitchen, you heard the fridge open, you heard a beer open, all before you saw his face.

"Make yourself at home why don't you" you said, as he came into your living room and plopped himself down next to you. You instantly found yourself smiling and breathing him in, his usual scent invading your senses, making your eyes flutter shut for a second or two.

"Always do" he said simply, wrapping an arm around you to hug you.

"Ew get off" you joked, as you hugged him back, taking a deep breath as your head found a comfortable place in his shoulder..

"How was work?" you sang, making him jokingly groan at your singing.

"Good" was all he said and it made you chuckle.

"Henry Cavill everyone" you said, talking to an imaginary audience.

"How are you?" he asked, taking a sip of his beer.

"Shitty as ever my friend" you said, clinking your bottle with him as his eyebrows lifted.

"Why are you so dressed up?" he said referring to your current attire, he took your appearance in, smirking to himself and trying his hardest (as ever) to keep his thoughts to himself. He always thought you looked amazing, the most beautiful person he had ever laid his eyes on but tonight, he thought you looked phenomenally gorgeous and unfairly hot.

You were wearing black skinny jeans and a black satin shirt which had been undone when your plans got cancelled, revealing lace lingerie underneath. You didn't care that it was revealing and you were infront of Henry, it just didn't matter to you, you were comfortable with each other and to be frank, he had seen much more of you before.

"I was supposed to have a date with Damien but he cancelled. Couldn’t be bothered to get changed" you said, making him groan and tilt his head back.

"That douchebag again? " he said, which made you laugh, he sounded too posh to say douchebag.

"What's wrong with him?" you asked, making him chuckle and drink his beer.

"Well for one, he's a dick, two he treats you like shit and 3 he's a dick" he said laughing.

"Yeah well he wants me so eh" you shrugged, downing your drink, knowing that wasn’t a valid reason to keep seeing him.

"Really? He cancelled on you" he said matter of factly.

"Ouch. Hurt my feelings why don't you. We get it I'm repulsive nobody wants me" you said, making him frown at you as your hand placed itself over your heart feigning heartbreak at his words.

"That's not what I meant and you know that's not true" he said, downing his drink too.

"What's the truth then?" you asked, turning to face him, your back sliding down the sofa slightly.

"You have terrible taste in men" he said, laughing which made you hit him "ouch" he said, rubbing his arm, his forehead creasing as his eyebrows furrowed at you.

"Sorry, did I hurt you big guy?" you joked, hitting him again, making him grab your wrist to stop you.

"Seriously Y/N stop" he said, making you chuckle and pull your hand away.

"God why is dating so hard? Honestly I'm just going to give up" you said, making Henry groan in agreement.

"I mean if Superman can't find someone then I've got no hope" you said, making him chuckle, his eyes following you as you stood up.

"Another one?" you asked, making him nod, you walked to your kitchen, opening the fridge and pulling out two more glasses of beer, popping the lids off..

"I miss sex" you heard Henry say making you laugh.

"Me too" you said, coming back into the room, passing him another beer, you walked to your speaker turning them on and taking your phone out of your pocket, throwing it to Henry who caught it one handedly, this was a common occurrence for the both of you, you’d give Henry your phone and he would play whatever he wanted from your music library.

"You and Damien haven't?" he asked, glancing between your phone and you as you resumed your position next to him, your head resting against his shoulder, looking at your phone in his hands.

"No we have but it was shit, didn’t get me where I needed to go if you get what I mean" you said, laughing to yourself.

"Why keep seeing him then? He's a dickhead and he can't make you cum? What's the point?" he said, making you laugh, finally shuffling a playlist of yours.

"Oh if you're fans heard you now Cavill" you said laughing to yourself, the music filling the room.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, bringing the bottom up to his perfect lips, downing a considerable amount, making you smirk and do the same.

"Just that they think you're so perfect. King Cavill they call you. Here you are, speaking all improper, having a beer with your clearly delusional and repulsive best friend and talking about cum" you said making him laugh alongside you.

"Eh, don't think they'd mind" he said, turning to face you.

“That’s true, think you could practically do anything and they’d bow down” you laughed, in your mind you understood perfectly why they acted the way they did and you truly loved every single person who loved Henry because they represented everything you were, everything they saw and thought about Henry, you thought, but considerable more because you knew him, all of him, not just the person he presented himself as.

"And stop calling yourself repulsive, you're not repulsive, far from it actually" he said.

"Calm down Cavill. Carry on being so sweet and I might think you’re in love with me" you joked, shoving his chest lightly.

"Yeah because that's not possible" he mumbled, you not hearing what he said.

"Huh?"

"Nothing"

"You look exhausted" you said, looking over his features, he had bags under his eyes and the skin around his face was drooping, you still thought he looked handsome but still, he needed to rest more.

"Thanks" he chuckled deeply, closing his eyes and leaning his head against your sofa.

"You work too hard" you scolded him, your hand moving to play with his curls the way you knew he liked. It calmed him and even though this was a fairly romantic thing people did, you did it anyway. Your friendship was weird like that, you could go from acting like best friends to acting like a couple (without the sex, much to your dismay). His eyes closed and his head tilted upwards as you did, a small smile resting on his lips, before they blinked open a few times.

"I enjoy my work" he said, humming at the feel of your gentle fingers in his hair. You could tell he was getting sleepy as his features softened and he no longer joked with you, the beer now long forgotten in his hand. You took the beer from his hand, placing it on the table, stopping your movements in his hair. Moving a pillow into your lap and saying his name, making his eyes open.

"I know you do, but you need to rest more, now lie down." you said firmly, gesturing for him to place his head on the pillow, to which he followed your instructions. Your hand resumed its movement in his hair, pushing the curls out of his face, running through the strands and occasionally stopping to massage his head.

"Maybe you need an older man, one who knows to treat you right” Henry said suggestively, wow he really is tired you thought.

“Treat me right? Are you talking about in or outside the bedroom?” you laughed.

“Both” he snickered.

"Going to set me up with one of your hot friends?" you said, trying to see if he was indeed talking about himself.

"I was talking about me." he said. Ah. So he was.

"Jheez you must be so exhausted" you said, trying your best to change the subject.

"I'm being serious" he said, his eyes still shut, groaning slightly as you weren't paying attention and accidentally tugged his hair.

"I'm too fucked up for you Henry. Besides you could have anyone you wanted" you said, hoping to some higher power that the topic please be changed.

"You're not fucked up, just a little messy, a little mess never hurt anyone" he said.

"You could have anyone you wanted" you repeated.

"Don't want anyone else" he said, suddenly sitting up from your lap and turning to face you.

"That beer must have gone straight to your head Henry. You don't know what you're saying"

"Don't be like that. I'm an adult, I can handle one fucking beer" he said, his tone turning you on a little. The song switched to Sail by AWOLNATION and the bass was loud, adding to the tension between you.

"Cmon Yn don't tell me you haven't thought about this" he said gesturing between you.

"I haven't" you lied.

"That's a lie. I see the way you look at me when you think I'm not looking" he said.

"Don't get me started" you warned.

"What's that supposed to mean?

"Oh c'mon Henry! You're always so protective when I tell you about guys I'm seeing, and you can't say that's just you being my best friend!" you shouted standing up from the sofa, walking to the other side of the room, turning down the music just a little.

"Yeah well, I know you have dirty dreams about me!" he shouted back making you gasp "I heard you one night when you stayed at mine, you moaned my name in your sleep"

"Yeah well, I always see you looking down my top at my tits" you said, making him look down at your boobs.

"Henry!" you shouted, your arms crossing over your chest protectively for about a second before you dropped them, not really caring if he looked.

"What! They're nice tits" he said make, a smirk on his face that you wished wasn’t there

"Well you have a nice face" you shouted back, you had no idea why the both of you were shouting at each other.

"So do you!" he shouted back.

"Yeah. Well you have rock hard abs like a fucking god? Like seriously what the hell dude?" you asked.

"Well you're fucking beautiful" he quipped back.

"Well, you have perfectly rideable thighs and sometimes when we cuddle I feel you against my arse… and c’mon how are you so big?" you said, glancing down to his thighs, flicking to his jean clad bulge, your mouth literally falling open as you did, making him chuckle at you. He hardened in his jeans as he heard you calling him big.

"It's nice arse. You have a nice arse" he said. It seemed like this was becoming a competition of who could complement the other more, you still had no idea why you were both shouting, probably to relieve the tension that was pent up inside the both of you.

"So do you! And you have really nice eyes, with the little bit of brown in the left one” you said, making him realise how much attention you paid to him.

“Not many people realise that about my eyes” he said, his mouth agape as he paused his shouting, the both of you trying to catch your breath.

“That’s because I like you.” you said, not shouting anymore.

“I like you more.” he said, still making it a competition.

"Well maybe we should just be together then if we like each other so much" you said.

"Maybe we should!" he shouted, the both of you realising that you had been moving closer to one another with every passing comment you had made, the both of you now standing chest to chest, the both of them raising and falling against each other. His eyes flicked down to your lips, to your eyes, to your breasts, back up to your lips before finally resting back on your eyes, the usual blue shade completely taken up by his pupils.

"Oh fuck it" you said , jumping into his arms, your legs wrapping round his waist, he caught you perfectly as you kissed each other. He carried the both of you back to your sofa, his lips moving perfectly against yours, as he placed the both of you on the sofa, you resting in his lap, your centres being instantly pushed together.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you for so long.” he said, breaking the kiss to tell you.

“Shut up and kiss me then” you said, his lips smudging against yours, the both of you moaning into the other, tongues finally fighting against each other, the feeling foreign but perfectly euphoric.

You shifted yourself against him, feeling him large and hard against your core. He pushed your open shirt over your shoulders, it fell to your forearms, you pulled your arms out of the sleeves, flicking the shirt in a different direction. Henry’s lips paused against yours to kiss at the exposed skin at your neck, moving down to your chest. You pushed your chest against his lips as he sucked at your bosom making you gasp and rut yourself against his bulge.

“I need you” you sighed out, his head snapping backwards to look at you, his hand coming to gently grasp your face, his thumb caressing the apple of your cheek which was now flushed and warm.

“I’ve wanted this for so long” he smiled at you, he lifted the both of you up, placing sweet kisses against your lips as he carried you to your bedroom, placing you softly against your bed, your head falling softly into your pillows. He paused above you, slipping his shirt over his head, before looking over you, his features soft as he did, a sweet smile on his face as his cheeks flushed.

“You’re beautiful” he said, making you smile up at him. You reached out for him, gesturing to him, he simply shook his head, needing a moment more to take you in.

“Please Henry. Come here” you said cutely, he finally obeyed your wish, resting over you, his core flush against yours as he rested his arm by your head, his fingers drifting over your face, before he placed tender kisses against your lips. His tongue sensually making its way back into your mouth, pleasure erupting between you as he pushed his hips against you, causing you to gasp, your lips opening against his. His grunt was resounding and stirred something deep inside you that wanted to hear the noise over and over until it was the only one you knew.

“Henry” you sighed as his fingers grasped the button of your jeans, popping them open easily, his fingers slipping down until they were pressed against your core over your underwear, a moan slipping from your lips, into his mouth as his tongue fondled yours. Your hands finally reached out, resting over his muscular shoulders, the muscles contracting against your soft touch. You moved them gently down his chest, moving your lips there too, pressing an open mouth kiss against his hairy chest as his fingers continued to move against your core. Your back arched and your eyes fluttered shut. You continued the movement of your hands southward, pausing over his abs to get a feel before landing on the button of his jeans, popping them open easily and beginning to push the material down past his thighs, over his plump bottom before he got up to remove them fully, giving you the chance to do the same to yours.

You were left in your black lacy one piece, you popped the buttons at your core, revealing your wetness to him making him groan loudly as he moved back over you. You took in his black boxers, seeing a clear and large bulge straining against the material. Your eyes flicked up to his and he took you in again, smiling to himself that this was finally happening.

“Kiss me” you said simply, his lips pressing against yours again. Your hands found the hem of his boxers, pushing them down, your hand finding his large shaft, grasping it lightly, your feather-like touch had him panting into your mouth, his eyes bursting open and his lips pulling away from yours as he snapped his head down, seeing your small hand wrapped around him. He had never seen something more simple yet the sight was nothing but erotic in his mind and he had to refrain from fucking himself into your hand. You began to move your hand up and down his shaft, spreading the precum that had formed at his tip to fully cover all of him. He rested his forehead against yours, eyes fluttering shut again as he moaned deeply.

“Baby I’m not going to last, need to be inside you” he said, speaking the truth. The pet name had your mind spinning and your stomach and core fluttering.

“Yes please” you begged sweetly making him chuckle.

“You sure you want this?” he said, grasping himself and placing himself against your core, tapping his tip against your clit making you sigh lewdly, precum spilling from his tip onto your clit at the sound.

“I’m sure” you confirmed, making him push into you gently, the both of you gasping, foreheads resting against each other, eyes looking into the others, making the whole ordeal more intimate.

His head arched upwards as he bottomed out, a loud groan falling from his lips.

“You okay?” he asked, his fingers caressing your cheek, moving to your bottom lip.

“Give me a second” you said, the stretch was nothing you had experienced before and you needed a second to compose yourself. His lips found yours and moved against yours slowly, drawing a moan out as his fingers found your clit.

“You can move”

“You sure?” he said, making you nod. He pulled back slowly and you moaned loudly, feeling every ridge and vein against your walls. He pulled out until just the tip was inside you, slowly pushing back in, making the both of you moan out loudly.

“Fuck” he said, repeating the action a few times, his thrusts were deep, sensual and slow, you could feel every part of him and it had you seeing stars already.

“Henry” you moaned, you had never felt anything like this, you were no virgin but no man had ever made you feel this good before. He pushed back in, his hips hitting against yours as he sped up his thrusts slightly, his member reached untouched places inside you and found your g-spot straight away, your back arched, hands flying out to grasp his shoulders for support.

“Henry” you repeated, his eyes opening to look in yours, worry written across his face “faster” you said, making him chuckle.

“We’ve got all the time in the world for that my love. Need to feel all of you. This way” he said, his words reinforced with a particularly slow and deep thrust making you gasp out.

He felt like he was being winded but it was perfect, every thrust was deeper causing pleasure to shoot inside of him, making deep and loud grunts fall from his lips which were moving against yours.

“Y/n” he moaned, as he made a particular hard thrust of his hips, his member pushing inside you harshly making the both of you swear at the feeling.

“Oh fuck” you moaned, his fingers moving against your pearl with every thrust he made. You began pushing your own hips up, meeting him halfway, creating a new feeling of pleasure.  

“Look at you, absolutely glowing. Taking me in so perfectly” he said, looking down to where you were intertwined, officially moving as one being.

“You’re so deep Henry” you said, your lips fluttering over his neck, sucking against a vein which had appeared there.

“No one’s ever been this deep before have they?” he said, his hips still delivering slow and deep thrusts inside you, elongating the pleasure you both felt.

“Only you” you said and Henry knew you couldn’t have said anything more perfect and complementary.

“Oh I love you” he said, surprising you with his words, you looked at him, the both of you smiling and moaning against each other. Tears formed in your eyes, your hands grasping his face gently, kissing his lips.

“I love you too Henry. So much” you said, making his hips move faster against you, his dick still reaching deep inside you, pushing deliciously against your g-spot, pulling high pitched moans from your chest, your back arching and your hips rising off the bed.

Henry’s hands landed on your lace clad waist, leaning backwards on the bed, carrying you with him so you were on top, causing his member to fall some from your core.

Your hand steadied him against your core as you lowered yourself against him until the hilt, the hair at the base of him tickling against you as your legs draped over his thighs. You began raising yourself up before dropping yourself down, his cock somehow reaching deeper inside you, his hand supporting your movements but grasping your waist, helping raise and lower you against him. He leant back against the bed, his mouth agape as looked over you.

“Fuck Henry. Can you feel you, here” you said, grasping his hand and pushing his hand against your stomach making him moan.

“I. Love. You. So. Fucking. Much” he said, delivering particularly hard thrusts upwards into you in between every word.

“Fuck. So close” you said, lips bruising themselves against his again.

“Never felt this way before” he said, his words making you moan again. They had you seeing nothing but white as your walls fluttered against him, a near pornographic noise falling from your lips as you reached your high.

“There’s my good girl, that's it” he said, encouraging you as you came around him.

“Cum for me Henry. I need it, need to feel it inside me” you said, making his hips stutter as he came suddenly at your words, his eyes flickering in their sockets as he came. His load shooting upwards into you, coating your walls with him. Yours and his juices slipping out of you and onto his cock.

“Oh fuck” he grunted, his chest heaving as he breathed heavily, yours doing the same as you collapsed against him as he fell back, his back hitting your bed, his hands grasping your comforter. You felt him softening inside you, your walls still pulsing around him as you rested your head against his sweaty chest.

“That was fucking amazing” he swore.

“You’re the best” you said, making him growl and flip the both of you, his length falling from your warm and wet cunt, he was coated in a mixture of the both of you making you smile.

“Why didn’t we do that sooner?” he said, now lying on top of you, his arms supporting his weight.

“Because we’re idiots” you said, both of you laughing breathlessly.

“Be my girlfriend please?” he said, pushing hair out of your eyes as you smiled up at him.

“It would be my pleasure” you said, kissing him slowly, he let out a deep exhale from his nostrils.

“You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me and I want to tell everyone that you’re my girl. Will you let me tell everyone you’re my girl?” he said making your heart burst with joy.

“You better, everyone’s got to know you’re my man” you said, laughing up at him.

“I’m your man” he said, repeating the words more to himself than to you.

“You’re my man” you confirmed, making the both of you smile, you giggling as his lips began to attack your neck again.

[xwing-baby]

Living The Dream (Javier Peña x f!Reader)

For #WriterWednesday hosted by @autumnleaves1991-blog​

Summary: A new house, dog and a baby on the way, Javier’s life couldn’t get any more perfect... its a dream come true.

Word count: 1.6k (good things come in small packages)

Warnings: Angst (cus duh), blood and injury description, mentions of pregnancy, dog death, hardly edited.

Masterlist

—

A tiny little house in the country, with a dog and a child on the way, was not how Javier thought his year would end but he wouldn’t change it for the world.

In the chaotic and dangerous life he led he never thought he would settle for more than two minutes let alone marry someone. You’d snuck up on him, coming out of nowhere to drag him into domesticity. Drag is the wrong word because he willingly went despite how much he pretended to drag his feet. He fell into it comfortably, he was even the one to suggest the house in the first place. You were happy in his apartment in Bogotá but Javier traded you a dog and you couldn’t say no.

A house, a girl, a dog. All he had ever wanted. Everything he swore he did not deserve but he could not imagine anything else now. Everything felt a little more manageable when he could come home to you. His own little oasis away from all the devils that haunted him in Bogotá or Medellín .

Javier planned to show Steve the new house on the drive back into Bogotá . You’d moved in a few weeks ago and everything was basically unpacked now, Javi was desperate to show off to his partner and could barely wipe the smile from his face as he pulled in.

The house was an old farmhouse, covered in iconic white plaster and red tile. The surrounding farm land had been sold off years ago, but left the house with a sizable garden around it to do whatever you wanted. There was enough for the baby to happily grow up and play in when the time came, for now the dog just chased rats through the long grass.

It was a mess when you bought it, but you were handy enough to get on with decorating and fixing up holes in walls while Javier was away working. He loved that part. Though he never admitted it, he always worried about you when you were working in the city. He never knew where you were until you came home. It was a lot easier to keep you safe, in his mind, with you at the house all day. You had done a fantastic job. For someone who claimed to have never even painted a wall before, the house was looking nice. It was becoming a home.

He called your name as he entered expecting to hear your music floating through the house. Instead he was met with silence.

“Must be asleep,” Javi said to Steve, “Pregnancies kicking her ass already,”

“Still can’t believe you’re gunna be a dad, man,” Steve clapped him on the shoulder, “I’ll get Connie to give y’all some baby books when she comes over,”

The two men chatted about the house, the baby, and everything else that had once seemed so out of the question for Javier but was now commonplace. He pulled beers from the fridge, cracking each open before sliding it across the patio table to sit and enjoy in the sunshine. They didn’t have anything to get back to urgently. The stop was justified and needed.

“Where’s that mutt of yours?” Steve asked looking around. In the weeks before the house was liveable, Javi had kept the dog at the apartment and used the Murphy’s as dog sitters whenever needed. Steve was excited to begin with but became a little more ambivalent when he ate his shoes one day. He was very happy when you moved him out to the house permanently.

“Must be with Y/n, they’re inseparable at the moment. In fact I will go check on her, she’ll be pissed if you leave without her seeing you,” Javier emptied his bottle and stood up. Steve chuckled and nodded.

Javier hadn’t been around the house as much as you had. Every time he had been you’d been close by making some kind of noise, a radio on somewhere in the house playing music with you singing along to it. He wasn’t used to it being quiet. It made the whole house seem so much bigger.

He walked upstairs to your bedroom, noticing the photos you had put up while he was gone. Simple wooden frames held photos from your wedding, photos of your family, and his favourite photo of you and him, taken by Steve candidly on the first day you had met. No one knew then just what would come from that one conversation but he was so happy it had led him here.

He pulled himself out of the fond memory and continued along the hall to your shared bedroom. The door was open, sunlight streaming in through half drawn curtains, the entire house was still. He smiled to himself, knowing that behind the door would be one of his favourite sights. He did not doubt that he would find Ringo, the dog, and you curled up on the bed. As much as Javi protested that the dog couldn’t sleep in your bed he knew you let him in as soon as he left in the morning.

Javier called your name again, listening carefully as he crept into the room. A full laundry basket sat on the floor, underwear and socks scattered the wooden floor boards. The drawers were open. You never left things untidy like that. Javier wasn’t the most untidy person in the world but you kept everything pristine. You wouldn’t just take a nap mid task. He frowned and touched the door to push it open.

“Peña!” Steve suddenly called urgently from downstairs. Javi knew that tone, instantly putting him on alert. You could wait for a moment. Javier stopped and turned back, leaving the door as it was and jogged back downstairs.

He came outside to see Steve, white as a sheet with grief written across his face.

“What is the-,” Javier started as he walked towards his partner. Steve brought him around the side of the house and Javi looked down and saw what was bothering him, “Oh fuck,” Javi swore the entire world stopped in that moment. Poor Ringo, shot in the head where he stood around the side of the house, just left without a care on the ground.

“I found him like that I swear! I am so sorry man,” Steve quickly explained. Javier wasn’t listening, couldn’t hear anything but alarm bells, his mind only thinking of one thing. You.

In a second Javier turned and ran back inside the house, picking up his gun from the kitchen counter where he’d left it. Steve followed quickly, keen on his heels. Javier knew exactly where to look, running up the stairs three at a time. He barrelled into your shared bedroom, praying that you were asleep and the dog was just an accident.

If his world had slowed at the sight of the dog the entire universe had stopped now. 

He couldn’t move his feet, mouth agape in total shock at the sight before him.

There was blood everywhere. On the bed, on the walls, even on the ceiling. Three bullets marked the walls behind the headboard. So much blood. He didn’t understand how he had not smelt it when he was outside a few moments earlier.

They had not been kind in your death, three shots to the stomach meant you did not die quickly. You were sprawled out on top of the sheets, still in your pyjamas. The white shirt you wore, Javi’s shirt, was now deep red, soaked through. There was a handprint dragged over the landline phone on your bedside table, glass and book knocked over in your effort to call for help. You hand still reached for it, so close yet so far.

Steve heard his cry of agony and ran in. He saw you, then Javi, and his heart sank. You were dead, there was nothing he could do now but he had to get Javier up. He pulled at his shirt trying to get him to move but was only met with violence as he ripped himself out of Steve’s grip away.

“Javi,”

“Javi,”

“Javier! Wake up!”

Javier’s eyes finally opened, his chest heaving and covered in sweat he was dazed for a moment before he finally looked at you. Your heart broke at the sight. He looked at you with such terror in his eyes, you didn’t have a chance to say anything before he grabbed you and pulled you in tight to his chest.

“It was just a dream,” You comforted him, “It’s okay,”

He took a deep but shaking breath, taking in the scent of your hair. He didn’t speak. Couldn’t. It felt so real.

Slowly, he let you go and sat up wiping his hands over his face to clear the tears on his cheeks. He looked around him. He was in his apartment, three am on the clock. There was no dog, no baby, no new house. No body. It was just a dream.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You asked, sitting up with him and putting a hand on his shoulder, lightly rubbing his warm skin. He shook his head.

“It was just a dream,” He said softly.

The reality was he couldn’t afford to give you that vulnerability yet. He couldn’t let you know just how much he liked you for exactly the reason his dream had shown him. He was dangerous to be around. If you stayed, while it would be nice for a while, someone would pull the rug out from underneath you both eventually. It could only end in disaster. He would rather keep you at a distance, emotionally at least, so when that day came it would maybe hurt a little less.

He settled back down again, pulled you closer with your head on his chest. He could have you for now, like this, and let his imagination run wild with ideas of a picket fence future. But, to protect you that was all it could ever be. A dream.

—

A/n: I don’t know what is wrong with me... I am sorry Javi one day I will write something nice for you but today is not that day.

tagging: @autumnleaves1991-blog @hunters-heathen @beskarbabs @wille-zarr​ @all-hallows-evie

[honeypiehotchner]

Thank You -- a Chuck/God one shot

Hi there! I know this blog has mainly been about Sherlock and Good Omens lately, but if you didn’t know, I am a huge fan of Supernatural.

I went through an old thumb drive just now and found this old piece of writing. I originally was just reading it to reminisce, but as I found myself reading and unconsciously editing, I realize that this still hits home pretty hard for me, and I want to share it with you guys.

I distinctly remember writing this piece two years ago (it’s dated February 25, 2017) and I remember how much it helped me to write it, so I hope that in posting it and reading it, it might help someone else, too.

Warnings: some sadness, mentions of past abuse/trauma, teenage angst, the lot.

This has no pairing. Kassie is sixteen and Sam and Dean are her legal guardians/“pain in the ass big brothers” (her words).

Chuck is back and is staying with the boys in the Bunker, so I’m assuming this was written circa tail end of season 12? Who knows. Enjoy! xx.

The sound of the shower running was what lured Kassie out of her bedroom. She made her way out into the hallway, looking both ways before heading to the kitchen. The Bunker’s halls feel different now, not in a good way. Everything feels different lately.

She sighed in relief upon seeing that the kitchen was empty, but her relief didn’t last as long as she had hoped.

           “So, not talking to God at all, huh?”

           Kas grimaced, turning around from her place at the sink. She had been setting her empty coffee cup down when Sam walked in. He had heard her bedroom door open, the exact thing she had hoped he wouldn’t – she thought he was the one showering.

           Sam was the only one she needed to avoid – aside from Chuck. Dean didn’t care less that she didn’t want to talk to God because hell, Dean didn’t want to at first either. And he wasn’t going to push her to if she didn’t want to. In Dean’s eyes – and in Kas’s – she didn’t owe God a damn thing.

She smiled sheepishly, hoping to avoid his question, but Sam wasn’t having any of it.

           “I still want an answer, y’know,” Sam smiled softly, but he wasn’t playing around.

           “Sam, I really don’t—”

           “I know, you didn’t have the brightest upbringing in the sense of faith,” Sam paused, leaning back against the counter. “But Dean didn’t either, and he talked to Chuck.”

           Again, Kassie sighed. This was why she had stayed in her room. She didn’t want to explain herself. God probably knew exactly why she didn’t want any part of him, and that was okay. She didn’t care. She couldn’t wait for him to leave, actually. For this to all be over, so she could have her Bunker back.

           “Where is Dean, anyway?” She asked, picking at her fingernails.

           “Went on a run,” Sam replied simply, not leaving room for any elaboration. “C’mon,” his voice was softer now. He wanted Kas to let him in, just this once. “Maybe talking to him would help.”

           Kassie shook her head, turning back around and grabbing a cup from the cupboard. She walked over to the fridge and poured herself some sweet tea – which she had to make herself because apparently the boys had never heard of it. When she turned back around, it was evident Sam still hadn’t dropped the subject.

           “I don’t know,” she answered truthfully, and then muttered, “something tells me he wouldn’t be bothered to listen.”

           Sam sighed, but he didn’t sound annoyed. It was a sad sigh, one where his face softened, and his shoulders slumped. He cleared his throat but didn’t say anything. Just continued to stare at Kassie with those pleading eyes.

           And truth be told, Kassie hated those eyes. She couldn’t look at him when he looked at her like that. So, she looked down, studying the ice in her sweet tea. It swirled around when she shook the glass slightly, and then settled down.

           Footsteps sounded through the hallway, stopping at the entrance to the kitchen. Sam looked up, straightening his shoulders.

           “Well,” Chuck laughed uncomfortably. “Family troubles?”

           Sam shrugged, glancing at Kassie who continued to stare at her tea. “Something like that.”

           Chuck stepped into the kitchen, staying near the doorway. “I’m sensing not everything is okay.”

           Kassie scoffed, drinking more of her sweet tea. She clenched her jaw as she stared at the floor, shaking her head. “I’m going to my room.”

           “Kassie—”

           “Don’t, Sam,” she growled, not looking behind her as she walked out of the kitchen, pushing past “God” on her way out.

           Sam sighed upon hearing her bedroom door slam shut. He slumped back against the counter, hanging his head. He hadn’t known a sixteen-year-old could have such broken faith, but somehow Kassie’s faith was completely shattered.

           Chuck slowly walked further into the kitchen, settling himself on the bench. “If you don’t mind me asking, what happened?”

           Sam shook his head, clearing his throat. “No, I uh – I don’t mind. I’m sorry about her, she’s kind of—”

           Immediately, Chuck shook his head. “Don’t apologize. I’m aware of her situation with faith. I meant what happened just now.”

           “Oh,” Sam chuckled sheepishly. “I suggested that she talk to you, but she doesn’t…want to.”

           Chuck nodded, but still didn’t seem offended. “That understandable. She’s much like Dean.”

           “Yeah,” Sam nodded, blowing a sigh past his lips. “Yeah, she is.”

           “I can try talk to her myself,” Chuck shrugged, shifting around in his seat. “If you’d like.”

           “I dunno,” Sam said warily, his eyes following the sound of the door opening. He leaned over, seeing Dean come into view with bags on both arms.

           “Alright, I got hot pockets, beer, sweet tea for the child,” Dean called out as he walked in. He set the groceries down on the counter, turning back around with a strange expression. “Where’s the kid?”

           Sam cleared his throat, smiling tightly. “She’s in her room.”

           Dean’s head turned slightly to the side as his eyebrows furrowed. “Is she grounded or something…?”

           “No,” Chuck answered this time with a small laugh. “She just doesn’t want to speak to me.”

           “Ah,” Dean nodded, snapping his fingers, and just like that, he went back to attending to the groceries. He rummaged around in the bags, setting the teabags on the counter before crumpling the bag.

           Next, he grabbed the beer and set it in the fridge, staring weirdly at the pitcher of sweet tea before shutting the door. He would never be used to sweet tea. He turned around, coming face with both Sam and Chuck staring at him with raised eyebrows.

           “What?”

           “So, that’s it?” Sam raised his hands incredulously. “You just don’t care?”

           “Look,” Dean spoke as he continued putting away groceries. “No offense, but I didn’t want to speak to your holiness either. So I’m not worried about her.”

           “Dean—”

           “Sam, listen. Not everyone is gonna be all excited when big guns walks in, okay?” Dean gestured to Chuck. “Again, no offense.”

           Chuck shrugged, “None taken.”

           “See? No offense here, so we’re fine. Besides, she took a while to warm up to me when we first got her, so I wasn’t expecting her to be her normal self with God walking around.”

           Sam clenched his jaw, sighing. “Fine. If you’re not worried, then I’m not either.”

           “See, problem solved!” Dean grinned. “No harm done.”

           Sam still didn’t look convinced, but Dean had already moved on from the topic.

 +++

A couple hours passed, and Sam had decided to make Kassie’s favorite thing for dinner: breakfast. It was also chosen because God happened to really enjoy making pancakes.

           “Hey, dinner’s ready. Someone wanna go find Kassie?”

           Dean spoke up, “Yeah, I’ll go get her.”

He placed the last plate down on the table before heading off down the hall to her bedroom. It was quiet as he walked, which was surprising. She usually blasted music when she was upset, or anything in the realm of angry. She got that from Dean, except she didn’t use her headphones. Ever.

Dean furrowed his eyebrows once he reached her door. It appeared to be silent in her room.

“Kassie?” He called out, knocking on her door softly. “Dinner’s ready. Sam made pancakes and bacon, your favorite,” he chuckled softly, but still no response. He was worried to, if he was being honest. He just never showed it.

Slowly he turned the doorknob, pushing her door open just enough for him to peek inside. To his surprise, she sat at her desk with her headphones in. She was staring at pictures, her head propped up in her hand that wasn’t holding an old Polaroid.

Dean slowly walked in, leaving the door open. As he got closer, he could hear her music playing. He didn’t know what it was, but it was up loud enough that he could hear it, and it didn’t sound cheerful.

“Hey,” he said, resting a hand on her shoulder.

She didn’t even flinch as she turned to look at him. There were tearstains on her cheeks. Slowly, she reached up and pulled her headphones out, yanking the end out of her phone as well.

“Yeah?” She asked, and her voice cracked, even though it was only one syllable.

“Dinner’s ready,” Dean shrugged, but then his eyebrows furrowed. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh,” she shook her head, chuckling lightly. “Just looking at pictures of my dad,” she shrugged, not wanting to make a big deal, but when she looked back at a picture of her dad holding her when she was young, the tears welled up in her eyes once again. “He passed away a little before my seventh birthday,” she said quietly. “I don’t really remember him.”

“He was a good man,” Dean said truthfully. “He really did love you.”

“Yeah,” Kassie smiled softly. “Mom used to say it was my fault he died,” she laughed darkly. “I don’t think it was, but she told me it so much I kinda started believing her.”

“Kassie, you know that’s not—”

She shrugged. “It’s whatever, really. What’s for dinner?”

And there was the subject change. Her and Dean’s famous act for getting out of any kind of too-deep-emotional-talk.

“Uh, pancakes,” Dean nodded, straightening up. “And bacon.”

Kassie narrowed her eyes, standing up from her desk chair. “How much bacon?”

He pursed his lips as he thought. “Hm, you might want to run. Before I eat it all.”

           Her eyes widened, but Dean was already running toward the door. She cursed and ran after him, catching up in the hallway. She tried grabbing his flannel a couple times, but he arched his back out of the way, laughing triumphantly.

           “I win!” Dean cheered with his hands tossed in the air as they reached the kitchen.

           “You got a head start,” Kassie whined, crossing her arms over her chest. She smirked and grabbed a piece of bacon off the plate Sam was carrying over to the table. She ate it with a smile.

           “Really, Sam?” Dean groaned. “You weren’t supposed to let her have that.”

           “Why? You cheated,” Sam smirked, walking back over to grab the syrup.

           Dean pouted as Kassie sauntered over to the table, her face falling upon seeing Chuck sitting there. She sighed as she sat down, chewing on her bacon silently.

           Sam gave Dean a look that Dean completely ignored, leaving Sam to throw Dean a helpless gaze. Dean ignored that, too, taking his place at the table beside Kassie.

           The air around dinner was awkward and tense, mainly because of Kassie refusing to speak to Chuck, or anyone really. Dean got her to say a few words, but it was only because he poked her ribs and basically tickled the words out of her.

           Dinner ended after a painfully long fifteen minutes. Kassie placed her plate in the sink, getting about halfway out of the kitchen when Sam called out to her.

           “Hey, Kassie?” Sam paused to clear his throat. “Can we talk?”

           She nodded. “I’ve gotta pee. I’ll meet you in the library in a couple minutes.” And on that note, she walked back to her room.

           Dean stared at Sam incredulously. “What the hell, man? Now you’re gonna force her to talk?”

           “Yes, because talking helps, contrary to popular belief,” Sam replied pointedly as he placed his plate in the sink. “And we’re all going to talk to her. Not just me, and not just Chuck. We need your help, too.”

           Dean sighed, rolling his eyes and shaking his head. “Fine, but you know already that I’m on her side. Don’t get mad when I don’t agree with what you’re saying.”

           “Fine.”

           True to her word, Kassie walked into the library a few minutes later, settling herself down in one of the chairs. She propped her feet up on the table, her hand resting comfortably around her glass of sweet tea.

           Dean walked in before anyone else, sitting next to Kassie. He smiled goofily, poking her ribs as he sat down. She squirmed, swatting his hand away.

           “You’re an asshole,” she pouted, crossing her arms over her chest.

           Dean turned his head to reply, but Sam and Chuck walked in at that moment. Dean’s expression turned into a tired and annoyed one, making Kassie stifle a giggle behind her hand.

           “Alright,” Sam paused to pull a chair out and sit down. God did the same. “What’s goin’ on?”

           Kassie raised an eyebrow, glancing at Dean for a brief moment before responding. “Nothing much. How ‘bout you guys?” She looked between both Chuck and Sam with expectant eyes. “Go on any vacations? See anything exotic?”

           Sam’s face softened, but his eyes showed annoyance. He knew what Kassie was getting at, and Dean did, too. Dean just didn’t seem as affected by it.

           But Sam ignored it, clearing his throat instead. “Earlier you said you though God wouldn’t be bothered to listen. Well,” he paused, gesturing to Chuck. “He’s here now, and willing to listen.”

           “Seriously?” Kassie retorted, chuckling out of hysterics. “That’s why you called me in here?”

           “You said you didn’t think he was listening—”

           “I know what I said, Sam,” Kassie snapped. “It was what I felt. And if you’re gonna use it against me, then I’m gonna leave.”

She went to stand from her chair, but stopped when Dean spoke up. “Hear him out, okay?”

Sam raised his eyebrows, but didn’t say anything as Dean’s pleading eyes stared at Kassie. Her eyes were narrowed with anger, but she sat back down.

Kassie crossed her arms over her chest, looking at Chuck with a clenched jaw. “Well?”

“I was listening,” Chuck said, leaning forward and resting his hands on the table. “I heard every word, even when you prayed to your guardian angel. I heard you.”

Kassie chuckled darkly, “But yet you never replied. What’s the point of listening if you aren’t even going to let me know you did?”

“Well, that’s the point of faith, I suppose,” Chuck shrugged. “I can’t always let you know I heard. You just have to believe I did.”

“Yeah, well, I had enough of filling my heart with false hope. Faith wasn’t exactly something that appealed to me, not even now.”

“Not even as I’m sitting in front of you,” Chuck nodded. “I understand.”

Immediately, she scoffed. “No you don’t,” she shook her head. “If you understood the hell I went through – you would’ve done something about it. But you didn’t. And you wonder why my faith is so shaken up.”

Sam stared sadly at Kassie, but Dean stared down at the table. The latter of the brother’s agreed with her more than she would ever know.

“I sent you signs,” Chuck said, sounding genuine. “I sent you a new dog. I sent you visits from your guardian angel. Little things like that were my way of letting you know I was there.”

In that moment Sam felt bad for Chuck. He sounded sincere and genuine, but all Kassie could see was red. Pure red fury and hatred.

“Well, thanks for those, and thanks for sweet tea,” she stood, grabbing her glass. “But no thanks for leaving me with my abusive mother. That was a hell that even a dog and guardian angel – whoever the hell that was – couldn’t fix.” She turned and walked away, grumbling angrily to herself as she went.

“Hey, Kas?” Sam called out.

She stopped and turned around, but still didn’t look happy. “What?”

“Don’t let yourself be blinded by your hatred.”

And for a moment, Kassie’s face softened. Her eyebrows relaxed as she nodded, Sam’s words sinking in, but she didn’t stay. She still continued down the hallway and into her room, but she wasn’t as angry as she was before. She was calming down.

“What was that?” Dean asked with a raised eyebrow. “One moment she’s seething and then you say a sentence and she calms down.”

“It was a quote from the Harry Potter books. Remus Lupin is her favorite character,” Sam smiled softly. “I figured if anyone could make her understand, it would be him.”

Dean nodded, but since he wasn’t totally familiar with the books, he was still a little confused. A small smile did creep through, though, but it was at the memory of a girl named Charlie.

 +++

 The next day, things were different. Kassie came out of her room for breakfast, and actually conversed with everyone around the table. Even Chuck. It was surprising to all of them, but no one mentioned it. They figured it would be best if it went unsaid. She had a habit of shying away at things after someone mentioned what she was doing.

           It was a little while after breakfast, when Sam and Dean were washing the dishes, when Kassie started speaking to Chuck, and this time without anger.

           “I’m really sorry…about yesterday,” Kassie sighed. “I’ve been thinking about what Sam said, and he was right. I—I shouldn’t let myself be blinded by hatred. I mean, you put me with Sam and Dean – I guess – so you’re not all that bad, right?” She sighed again, leaning back in her chair. She wrung her hands together nervously, trying to find the right words. “Just – If you were listening like you said you were, why didn’t you get me out of there sooner?”

           Chuck sighed heavily, shrugging. “I had to learn that sometimes constantly saving my children from bad situations wasn’t going to teach them anything.” He paused before clarifying, “I saw that I had to take a step back. So I heard you, but I had already established that I needed to step back in order for things to get better.”

           Kassie’s eyebrows furrowed. Her eyes were welling with tears that were refusing to fall.

           “But…” She paused for a second, swallowing thickly. “Things didn’t get any better. They just…got worse. There was just more chaos and heartbreak.”

           “That chaos and heartbreak came from your mother,” Chuck said softly. “Don’t confuse me with her.”

           “I-I’m not, I just—” She paused. “I don’t know.”

           “Well,” Sam jumped in, clearing his throat. He tossed down the dishtowel and walked over, sitting down in the seat next to Kassie. “The important thing is, things are better now.”

           “And you’ve got us,” Dean reminded her, coming to stand behind her. He rested his hand on her shoulder for comfort. “We’re your family.”

           Kassie looked at them both with tear filled eyes. “Thank you,” She nodded. “You’re my pain in the ass big brothers.”

           “And you’re our pain in the ass little sister,” Dean smirked, patting her shoulder.

           Kassie finally shook her head and stood, pushing the chair in under the table. She lurched forward and wrapped her arms around Dean’s neck, holding tightly. It shocked him at first, but eventually he hugged back, wrapping his arms around her torso.

           Sam stood then, pushing his chair under and wrapping his arms around both of them. “Family group hug,” He chuckled.

           Kassie laughed, pushing away from the hug and wiping under her eyes. “Thanks you guys,” She said again, which both of them shrugged off. She turned to Chuck with a sad smile. “And thank you. I’m sorry I hated you for a while there.”

           Chuck shrugged, “No worries. But hey, try not to hate yourself as much, please? I worked really hard on you and I hate seeing you beat yourself up.”

           Kassie’s eyebrows raised slightly in surprise, but she still nodded. “Yeah. I’ll work on it.”

           Chuck grinned, “Thank you.”

[icecubelotr44]

Clear and Present Danger (6/16)

Summary:  Homicide detective Killian Jones has been searching for a way to bring Milah’s murderer to justice. There’s only one small problem: Robert Gold is the captain of the same homicide division. Enter Emma Swan, Internal Affairs investigator, looking into Gold’s shady dealings. Between the two of them, can they unravel the web of deals and lies that have gotten Gold to where he is?

Rated:  T, for violence, some dark themes, angst, and whump (you expected different?

TW: character death, mention of past self-harm, fatal car accident, school hostage situation

Other ships: mentions past Millian in a good light, Outlaw Queen, Snowing

Art credit/link: The totally awesome @cocohook38 made the cover you can see above and on her blog here. Later in the story, she’s illustrated some key points to the fic and I can’t thank her enough for her work! Chapter Four’s art is HERE.  Go show her some love!

Beta reader: @gusenitsaa took on this monster without probably knowing exactly what she was getting into (what do you mean 100,000 words?!) and any mistakes that you find are probably me being stubborn and ignoring her advice!  Thank you!

A/N:  Written as part of the 2018 Captain Swan Big Bang Challenge.  You can catch up with all the other fics that are complete by following @captainswanbigbang and/or subscribing to the Group Collection on AO3 and/or the C2 on FFN. This is complete in 16 parts and will be posted every Sunday from now until its completion.

Take it away, It’s going to be a bumpy ride.

Word count:  ~ 6,450 (100k Total in 16 chapters)

From the beginning: AO3 / FFN

Current Chapter: ao3 | ffn

CHAPTER SIX: OBSTRUCTION OF JUSTICE

Killian sighed for what seemed like the hundredth time that morning alone. He hadn't gotten much sleep the night before - after he'd docked the Jolly, Emma had bolted for her car so fast he couldn't even wish her a good night. He wasn't sure what he'd done wrong. He'd thought… well, he'd thought that maybe they were making progress. That maybe she was starting to trust him.

This morning was starting out spectacularly. Liam had left again, before the sun rose and before even Killian was out of bed - a note on the fridge just said "Cabin, Call You" - and had apparently taken the last of the coffee with him. The line at Dunkin Donuts had been ridiculous, some woman and her fourteen kids (he might have been exaggerating) had all ordered a full breakfast and, he'd swear, lunch as well.

Then, he'd gotten to work only to find that somehow, the greasy substance he was waiting for results on had been mishandled and destroyed. No one in the lab could explain how it had happened, but the evidence had been lost and there was nothing he could do about it.

Now they were stuck in traffic. Not the normal, pull your hair out because no one knew how to drive between the hours of seven and nine am kind of traffic. No, it was the slow, torturous crawl of bottlenecked accident traffic. According to the scanner, some idiot had stopped short in front of a tractor trailer, possibly for a small animal, and two lanes had been shut down completely as a result.

While he was glad he wasn't on that particular detail, Killian just wanted to get to Cambridge. He had a feeling that whatever Belle French could tell them, it would be worth the trip. If anyone knew LeGume and what he was into that got him killed, it would be the secret girlfriend.

"Bloody hell," Robin muttered under his breath as the car next to them merged and cut them off. His fingers clenched spasmodically around the wheel as if he were going to strangle it. "Don't they see we're in a police car?"

Killian huffed out an annoyed laugh in sympathy "It's unmarked, remember. And I don't think it's the steering wheel's fault, mate."

Robin cut his glare over to Killian and narrowed his eyes further. Killian resisted the urge to grab the wheel himself, knowing Locksley was capable of driving distracted but not wanting to make the evening news anyway.

Local homicide officers exacerbate accident. Story at eleven.

Finally, Robin gave up trying to wring the frustration out of the wheel and sat back with a resigned sigh. They weren't getting anywhere fast. "Did I tell you that Roland got a gold star for sharing yesterday?"

Killian grinned. "And you and Regina were worried that being an only child would stunt his growth," he teased jovially.

Robin rolled his eyes. "Says the man with a brother."

"You can borrow him any time you'd like," Killian said as seriously as he was able.

Robin cut a glance at him, clearly in disbelief.

"Oh, thank God," Killian muttered under his breath when they finally made it past the orange cones and could pick up speed again. Robin agreed by stepping harder on the accelerator and blowing by the soccer mom who had cut them off.

"So what did Roland share that earned him a gold star and, I'm sure, an ice cream cone?" Killian smirked as Robin grinned proudly.

"He shared his new markers with a girl at his art table. Let her use his green one, even."

Green was quite plainly Roland's favorite color. Killian knew this as well as he knew that his eyes were blue and Liam was his older brother. It was just the way it was.

Robin continued to fill Killian in on Roland's progress in kindergarten as they wound their way north to Cambridge. They finally turned down Ms. French's street and, surprisingly for the way the morning had gone, found a parking spot not too far away.

"Detectives?" Ms. French met them at the door, one hand holding it open while the other flipped up to check her watch. They were much later than Robin had told her they'd be there.

"Yes, ma'am," Robin acknowledged, showing her his badge and introducing both of them. "May we come in?"

She nodded, stepping back into the entryway to allow them access. "You said this is about Gaston? I haven't spoken with him in… well, nearly a week now."

Killian ignored the clenching in his heart that came every time he had to notify kin. "We're very sorry to tell you, ma'am, but Mr. LeGume was found dead earlier this week."

She blanched immediately, and the less cynical side of Killian whispered that there was no faking that. Whatever else she did or didn't tell them, Belle hadn't known that her lover was dead.

Robin took her arm gently when she swayed, her hand covering her mouth to stifle a cry of shock. He helped her towards the couch in the front room, lowering her gently to sit as Killian moved into the kitchen where he found a still-steaming cup of tea. He filled a glass with water from the tap anyway and brought both back to her.

"Ma'am," Killian called gently when he crouched down next to Robin. She looked up to smile blankly at him, and the empty look in her eyes was so familiar that he nearly had to turn away.

"Call me Belle, please," she allowed, taking the cup of tea from him and cradling it in her hands. "I'm not that old yet."

Killian nodded, placing the glass on a coaster made to look like an old first-edition book cover. Treasure Island, he read. The whole room was filled with books - some in floor to ceiling shelves and some scattered on the coffee and side tables. It was a miniature library and Killian got the feeling that it wasn't just for show. For one thing, the books were well cared for - but also well worn. There was no dust on the bookcases; she clearly took pride in each one.

"I don't know what I can tell you," she admitted. "Gaston and I… we talked about books. We went out up on the North Shore where we wouldn't be recognized. We didn't… he didn't talk about anything else."

Killian got the feeling that LeGume didn't do much talking at all, if the way Belle's cheeks grew red as she turned introspective were any indication. He remembered those early days with Milah. "You didn't want to be recognized? Or he didn't?" he tried.

Belle grimaced. "It was more of a mutual agreement. It wouldn't be good for him to be seen with a student, even if I weren't being graded by him. And I-" she cut herself off with a shake of her head and covered by taking a gulp of tea. It was clearly still too hot, and she nearly choked. Her eyes started to water and once that dam was broken, it was as if she'd given herself permission to grieve. Tears came fast and hard, though she was surprisingly silent.

Killian looked guiltily away, unable to handle the young woman's grief. It hadn't been so long ago that he'd been the same way: trying to put on a front when all he wanted to do was collapse into himself and break.

He might have done so irreparably if Liam and Robin and the Nolans hadn't held him together with superglue, duct tape, and chocolate chip cookies. Mary Margaret's cookies were to die for.

Some days, he still felt like he might just shatter, and even the world's fastest jigsaw-er wouldn't be able to fit all the pieces into the puzzle.

"I'm sorry," Belle managed a few moments later, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief she'd produced out of thin air, it seemed. "I know that you're busy trying to find out what happened, but I just-"

"No need to apologize, ma'am," Robin soothed, reaching out to take the mug away when her fingers slackened around it. "I know this must come as a bit of a shock."

Belle laughed daintily, but it rang hollow and the smile that crossed her face was pained at best. "A bit," she parroted wryly and Robin had the good grace to look chagrined.

"An unfortunate turn of phrase," he apologized.

Belle nodded her acceptance of this, but remained otherwise silent. Killian took the opportunity to sidle out of the room and look around the main floor. There were more books scattered haphazardly about - all well-loved and clearly taken care of, but within reach instead of on display. It looked like Belle would wander her home reading and leave the book wherever she was when she finished.

For all of the books that she owned, Belle had very few photographs adorning her walls. There were a few of her in various locations across the world, but she was alone in each shot.

"I've always loved traveling," she said quietly from behind Killian, but it still made him jump.

"I'm sorry," he apologized, placing down the copy of Oliver Twist that he'd picked up somewhere in his search. "I just-"

Belle smiled. "You were doing your job, Detective. I don't blame you for that. Do you read much?" she asked, nodding her head towards the book in front of him.

"My brother used to read this to me when we were kids," Killian allowed. "I'm afraid I don't read as much as I'd like to, anymore, though."

"None of us do."

Killian couldn't argue with that. He smiled politely and followed Belle back to where Robin was still looking contrite. They spoke for a while longer, but it was clear that the young woman's mind wasn't focused on the conversation any longer.

"If you think of anything else, Ms. French, here's my card. Please call," Killian finally allowed her an out which she took with alacrity. She snatched the card from him before looking sheepish, but ushered them towards the door anyway.

Killian would never figure out why they hadn't seen the photo on the way into the apartment. It wasn't like it was hidden, or something they wouldn't have noticed.

It was a picture of Belle, in front of Quincy Market, with Gold's arms wrapped around her from behind. They were both smiling into the camera, taken from such a low angle that it could only have been shot by a child.

"You know Captain Gold?" Killian asked before he could think better of it.

Robin's head whipped around and followed Killian's gaze to the photo.

"You mean Robert?" Belle asked offhandedly, something almost chilling in her tone.

Killian nodded slowly, the disharmony ringing in his ears over seeing his tormentor looking so happy with his arms around a woman who wasn't Milah. He looked so happy; they both looked so goddamned happy while Milah had been so miserable. Killian didn't understand. "When" - he cleared his throat - "when was this taken?"

"Oh, about three years ago."

Gold had still been married to Milah.

Killian was going to tear him apart. There wasn't a dark enough hellhole to drop him in. There weren't enough Hellhounds in the underworld to torment him. There wasn't-

Robin said something that Killian didn't catch, but it was enough distraction for him to mutter a strangled, "Thank you for your help," before nearly sprinting out the door.

The bright light of the sun assaulted him, making him blink rapidly to keep the tears out of his eyes. From the sun. Of course. Not because the bastard had been cheating on Milah for who knew how long and had spent all of that time castigating her for finding happiness with him.

"You all right, mate?" Robin asked a few minutes later, coming up to stand next to Killian so that they were shoulder to shoulder looking down the street. Killian wasn't seeing any of it.

The first time Milah had come to him, tears in her eyes and a stubborn look on her face, she hadn't told him what Gold had said to her. She'd muttered that she didn't want to talk about it, that it didn't matter; they were all that mattered to her and she'd go to Hell and back before she'd allow her husband to ruin the freedom she found with Killian. For his part, Killian had held her close and promised her the world - he'd have moved mountains or fled to the most remote corner of the world he could find if only she'd ask.

He thought she'd have done it, too, if it wasn't for her son. Killian had met the boy a few times, heard plenty of stories about "Bae"and his adventures in the Neverlands and Enchanted Forests in their backyard. But if there was one thing he knew as well as the fact that Milah loved him, it was that Robert Gold loved his son to an unhealthy degree. They'd never wrest the boy from his father's grasp and Milah would never truly leave him behind.

So Killian had settled. He'd accepted his relationship with her for what it was, loved her for the love she had for her son, and made do with the time that was given to him.

"Aye," he finally lied to Robin, squaring his shoulders and opening the car door. "Let's just get back to the station before we hit any more bloody traffic."

Emma couldn't believe it. She was looking at the results herself and she couldn't believe it. She'd found the note buried in one of Jones's files on the boat weeks ago and had tucked it in her pocket to ask him about later. He'd been dismissive, but the threat had stuck with her: LET THIS GO IF YOU KNOW WHAT'S GOOD FOR YOU. On a whim, she'd had it dusted for prints at an independent lab. Now, she finally had the results and she couldn't wrap her mind around it.

Detective Nottingham.

She didn't know the man well, just well enough to dislike him, but he didn't seem the type to stick his neck where it didn't belong. Still, a threat to a police officer wasn't something to be taken lightly and when Emma had questioned him, he'd been straightforward and succinct.

"Yeah, I put it on Jones's car. Bugger doesn't deserve the shield he carries." Nottingham had shrugged then and leaned back in his chair, as if he didn't have a care in the world. "Yanked the battery wire, too. Thought about… well, never mind."

Emma blinked. And then blinked again. "You're… admitting to threatening a police officer?" she asked incredulously.

He nodded succinctly, smirking at her.

"Tell me who put you up to this," she tried, sure that he'd never have admitted to it so smugly if he'd done it on his own.

A look of fear crossed his features before it was carefully masked behind the arrogance once more. "Don't know what you're talking about," he deflected - almost convincingly.

"Of course you do," Emma tried again. "The investigation into LeGume hasn't turned up any leads that would tie him to you; you had no reason to threaten Lieutenant Jones. Whoever put you up to it must have wanted the detective to look the other way. Someone told you to put that note on his car. Someone told you to destroy the evidence Jones found at the scene."

She thought that adding in that second charge would throw him off balance. Evidence tampering was much harder to wave off than what ended up being an empty threat to a fellow officer.

Nottingham just shrugged. "Nope. Just me. Thought losing the evidence would get him booted. What are you going to do about it?"

Emma read him his rights.

It was only when she finished that he began to splutter, rising to his feet with a look of utter disbelief as she cinched handcuffs around his wrists and led him to a cell. He didn't fight her, per se, but he wasn't willingly ambling along either. Emma thought about securing him in with the rest of the detainees overnight while she processed his paperwork, but wanted to make sure everything went by the book. So, a cell to himself, it was.

The clang of the jail cell slamming shut seemed to flip the switch in Nottingham, as if he had begun to realize that whoever his benefactor was - and Emma didn't need to pass a detective's exam to guess who it was - he wasn't coming to the rescue. Nottingham stalked the length of the cell, muttering under his breath the entire time, looking up every once in awhile before sulking to the back corner and starting his circuit again.

Emma needed to go fill out all the paperwork, but she was transfixed by the pattern Nottingham was making. Was he really willing to sacrifice himself rather than give up Gold?

"Thank you for taking out the trash as it were," Gold praised as he appeared behind her out of nowhere. Emma refused to jump, though he'd startled her. She looked at him out of the corner of her eye with a sneer. His eyes never left the scene playing out in front of them, Nottingham pacing behind the bars of the cell like a caged wolf.

Emma turned to face him, not willing to watch the scapegoat any longer. "You're not getting away with this," she promised, seething.

"Actually, I am." Gold smirked and leaned forward a bit. "I think you'll find that all your evidence conveniently points to Nottingham. Won't find a thing to tie me to any of this. I'm going to walk away from this with clean hands."

He was right. The bastard was right and there wasn't anything Emma could do to change it.

But that didn't mean she wasn't going to try. "That's not gonna happen," she assured herself more than threatened him. Emma had dealt with her fair share of bullies growing up. He was just another one.

"I like your confidence," Gold admitted with a disarming smile. Emma saw why Jones called him a crocodile, with all his teeth proudly glinting in the fluorescent lighting. "It's charming. But it doesn't change the fact that I win again."

Emma snarled. "You know I'm going to figure this out. I'm willing to roll the dice. Follow whatever bread crumbs I have to to finish this. And when I do, who knows what might come out about you in the process. Somehow I suspect there is more to you than a simple Homicide captain. You really want to start that fight?"

Gold grinned, but Emma could see the flicker of unease that he was trying to hide. It was gone an instant later, but Emma had seen it and that was all that mattered.

Gold's days were numbered.

"I like you, Ms. Swan," he blustered. "You're not afraid of me, and that's either cocky or presumptuous. Either way, I'd rather have you finish your investigation and get out of my precinct."

He walked away before Emma could get another word in. She shuddered with the need to do something. She was sure that Nottingham had been the one to threaten Jones and impede his investigation into LeGume's murder; he'd admitted it and he wasn't lying. But he wasn't the type to do it on his own.

No, Emma would have to dig deeper if she was going to figure out what Gold had on the officer, but she would find it and once she did, she'd use it herself to flip Nottingham on his leash-holder. With nothing else to do with or for Nottingham, Emma turned resolutely away and stomped back to her desk.

She nearly screeched when a hand darted out from the stairway and tugged her inside. Killian grabbed her wrist before she could punch him in the face, using his size to crowd her back against the wall and out of sight from the rest of the precinct.

"What the hell, Jones!" she hissed vehemently, wriggling and trying to get free.

Killian smirked, not hurting her, but clearly using his height advantage to stop her from getting free. "You want to calm down, darling?" he asked, a hint of something sharp in his tone.

Emma stomped on his instep, not hard enough to do any real damage, but enough to make him yelp and let her go.

"Bloody hell, woman," he whined, one hand pushed against her shoulder to keep her in place while the other reached in vain for his injured foot.

"Let. Me. Go!" Emma ordered, reaching threateningly for his pinky finger.

Killian gingerly put his foot down and made a show of taking his hand off her shoulder. "What did Gold want? Are you all right?" he finally asked.

Emma blinked. That was what all of this was for? "Are you kidding me right now? I thought we agreed that the less people see of us together, the better.

Killian shrugged and Emma wanted to be annoyed. She did. Half of the evidence they were able to compile on Gold had remained untainted because Killian wasn't connected with her. And she wasn't connected with him. But he looked so sincere and goddamned endearing that it was a struggle to keep the smile from escaping.

"I'm fine, Jones," she assured him softly, reaching out to lay her hand on his chest. What the hell are you doing? she thought before yanking her hand back like she'd been burned. "He was just spewing nonsense about how he's going to get away with everything. The arrogance…"

Emma could see the frustration and… was that resignation on Jones's face?

"We'll get him, Swan," Killian vowed, shaking away whatever Emma had seen in his eyes. "We have to. I have to. For Milah."

"Get out of my bloody way!" he shouts, trying to push past the two men holding him back. "That's my… that's… I need…"

God, he doesn't know what he needs. To start the day over? To be in the car with her? To get to her side, hold her hand, pretend that he was there in her last moments?

All of the above?

He knows it's too late; he heard the call for the medical examiner on the way across the city, lights and sirens blaring even though he knew he'd be suspended for it. She's already gone and there's nothing he can do about it.

But he still needs to get to her side.

"Liam!" he shouts, catching sight of his brother with a notepad and pen. "Liam, tell them to let me through!"

Killian watches as his brother looks up, can see the regret etched across Liam's face even from this far away. It's not grief there, no of course it isn't. Liam has never approved of what his little brother has gotten involved in. But Killian knows his brother isn't heartless, either. Not even his misgivings about the situation would stand in the way of-

"You can't be here, little brother," Liam says, but the words don't make any sense.

Killian shakes his head, not understanding. "Liam, I have to…"

"You have to go, Killian. You can't be here, right now. The scene-"

"I don't care a bloody whit about the scene, Liam!" he shouts, struggling against the other men still holding him back. "I need to get to her. Brother, please."

Milah is right there, still sitting in the car as though waiting for the tree to pull up its roots and move out of her way. He can't see her face, but he can see her hair, the curls blowing in the breeze. Bloody hell, he couldn't even count the number of times they'd driven down to the Cape and he'd spent half of the ride spitting her hair out of his mouth. It was all about freedom, she'd told him time and time again. She felt like she could breathe when she was with him, so the last thing she wanted to do was restrict her hair.

"I'm sorry, Killian, you know I can't-" Liam's head snaps to the side as Killian's knuckles collide with his cheek. Blood drips from a cut that one of his rings left behind.

Killian almost feels bad. Almost.

"Some bloody brother, you are," Killian hisses, yanking his other arm free from the officer and stepping back. He wants his brother to hit him back, wants to fight with someone - anyone - so he doesn't have to concentrate on-

"I know you don't mean that," Liam says calmly, pulling out a handkerchief to blot at the blood before it can sully his crime scene. That's all it is to him, Killian realizes, just another case.

"Liam," he pleads, "I have to see her. I don't care what the rules are."

"But I do," Liam insists, ducking under the tape and trying to pull Killian away.

Killian resists, tearing his brother's hand off his shoulder and spinning away from him, trying once again to get to her car.

"Killian, listen to me. You can't help her, not anymore. All you're going to do is give Gold an excuse to implicate you."

Killian freezes, but only for a moment. "You think my fingerprints, my DNA isn't all over that car? I'm already going to be a suspect, you bloody moron. What difference does it make?"

Liam takes a step back, the look on his face some combination of brotherly horror and resignation. "I'm sorry, little brother," he tries again.

"No! Liam, you have to-" he cuts himself off, shoving Liam aside and storming through the tape.

Liam grabs him one more time and Killian swings again, red coloring his vision as he gives in to the fiery anger coursing through him. He doesn't know how many times he hits his brother before he's lying facedown on the ground, Locksley's knee in his back and handcuffs around his wrists.

"No! Liam, no, don't do this! Robin, let me go!" he keeps shouting, not noticing nor caring how many eyes from the precinct are on him. Not caring about how all of this is going to get back to Gold. Let him know how much Killian still… will always love Milah. Let him see what Gold should have felt about her.

Robin doesn't move as Liam kneels next to Killian's head. Killian forces his head back, arching his neck so that he can glare at his brother. Liam is bleeding from the nose now, his left eye already swelling.

"I hate you," Killian hisses. "I hate you and I wish-"

"Don't say something you'll regret later, little brother. I already forgive you," Liam says gently. "Robin's going to get you out of here before someone decides to-"

"I hate you," Killian hisses again, but the fight is leaching out of him as quickly as it came. Even his anger isn't enough to get him out of handcuffs.

Liam nods sadly, but motions to Locksley and moves to help stand Killian up. They frog march him back to the squad car and fold him into the backseat, both ignoring the threats and the callous remarks he throws their way.

"I'm sorry I have to leave you with him like this," Liam apologizes to Robin and it just ramps the anger right back up. Liam has been apologizing for him all their lives; Killian hates it now even more than he had growing up. "I wish I could-"

"Captain Gold is already gunning for him, sir," Locksley interrupts. Their words are muffled through the window, but Killian can still hear them. "We don't need you getting in trouble, too. I'll take care of him."

"I know you will, mate. Here, I don't know if he has the keys with him." Liam hands over a set of keys, wincing when Killian's shoulder hits the glass. Killian glares at him when he bends down to make sure he didn't hurt himself. "Take him to the marina, see if you can't get him inside. I'll be along as soon as I can get away."

Killian doesn't even wait for Robin to shut the driver's door before he lays into him. He keeps screaming as they pull away from the scene.

Away from Milah.

"Where'd you go, Jones?" Emma asked softly, drawing his attention from where he was staring a hole in the wall back to her. The haunted look in his eyes frightened her; men who looked like that were unpredictable when it came to their crusades.

Captain Gold and his eventual downfall was definitely a crusade.

But Killian just shook his head as if clearing the cobwebs and grinned disarmingly at her. It didn't reach his eyes. "Nowhere fun," was all the answer he'd give.

Emma didn't need him to tell her - she could read him like an open book. She wondered how many times a month… or week… or day Killian relived Milah's death. He'd never told her the story, but officer reports put him at the scene soon after her official time of death. Emma could put two and two together.

"Look, Killian, I get it. I can't even begin to imagine what it's been like for you, working under him every day while you know what he did to her. But we've got to be smart about this. We-"

"You think I don't know that?"

Emma stared for a moment. "What part of 'we can't be associated with each other' did you miss, then?"

He shrugged. "No one's paying attention. I just…" he trails off, scratching behind his ear. It was a tell if ever Emma saw one.

"You just what?" she prompted beseechingly.

But Killian didn't answer. The slam of a door somewhere above him echoed through the stairwell and was followed by thudding footsteps.

"Go home, Jones," Emma hissed to avoid being heard by whomever was above them. "I promise I'll steer clear of Gold and his fancy words if you'll be a little more careful about being seen with me."

Killian nodded, slipping silently down the stairs before whoever was coming saw him. When he was gone, Emma slumped back against the wall and let out the breath she'd been holding for what felt like ever.

"Afternoon, ma'am," Henry Mills called out when he stepped onto the stairs just above her. "Can I help you with something?"

The sheer feeling of relief that overtook her seeing it was Nolan's rookie rather than one of Gold's lackeys surprised her. Would it really kill her case if someone saw her and Jones talking? No. She'd done fine without him before all this and she would do fine when this case was over and they were back to separate departments. So why the concern?

A niggling feeling at the back of Emma's mind told her she already knew the answer, but didn't want to admit it to anyone - least of all, herself.

"Ma'am?" Mills questioned again when Emma was silent for too long.

She nodded. "I could use some help pulling Nottingham's files," she began.

"Sure!" the rookie practically beamed at the idea of helping her. No one would bat an eye at the kid working with her, so the question remained.

Why is it different with Jones?

Hours later, Emma and Henry had pulled dozens of cases that Nottingham had closed. One thing was certain, though no one seemed to like the man, he was effective in what he did. The problem was, there were too many complaints sandwiched between the successful cases for Emma to even begin to decipher where Gold's interference came into play.

"Thank you, Henry," she said sincerely after making her last copy of the day. She was exhausted and even the rookie's exuberance had waned with the passing hours. The poor kid looked as dead on his feet as she felt.

"No problem," he replied tiredly, slamming the last filing cabinet drawer closed and pushing the lock button. He tossed her the keys, nodding his head towards the officer who was waiting to log them out. "You want to take care of 'Grumpy' over there?"

Emma bit back a smirk. "I'll handle him. You get out of here."

He grinned gratefully before slipping past the surly officer with a nod. Emma watched him go before squaring her shoulders and heading out the same way.

"It's about time, sister!" the officer growled as he snatched the keys from her. "Some of us got better things to do than wait around for you IA rats to burrow into the past."

Emma just raised an eyebrow. "I'll be back tomorrow," she promised, determined to find some kind of link.

Leroy - according to the name tag that had seen better days - just scowled. "Fine, fine. Just try not to stay so late, huh?"

Emma whipped her head around to find the clock behind his desk.

11:45pm.

No wonder the little man was pissed. Emma's stomach voiced its own protest at her long hours, the bear claw she'd had for lunch long since forgotten. She tried to look a little sheepish to mollify the officer, but he just glared and turned away. Taking the dismissal for what it was, Emma beat it out of there, determined to keep going until she'd crossed the threshold of her apartment and found her bed.

The squad room was nearly deserted as she passed by, only a few angry eyes watching her progress as she walked, head held high. She barely stopped at her desk to grab her bag before walking calmly for the elevator.

The night air was cool on her face and she paused for a second to soak it in. Boston may be filled with city air and city sounds, but it was home. She loved the bustle and the smell, the history and the modern melding into one culture that filled the city with whatever someone wanted to find. It was all there, waiting to be explored.

Her stomach growled again and Emma amended her earlier resolve to head straight home. If she hurried, she could get to Downtown Crossing and find something to eat that wasn't freezer burned or past its expiration date. Sleep could wait; her stomach couldn't.

Footsteps. Damnit.

Emma rolled her eyes as she turned the corner into the same alleyway where she'd first threatened Jones all those weeks ago. It was late, she was tired, and she'd honestly thought that he'd left the station hours ago. She was glad that Killian had taken her edict seriously and he wasn't trying to corner her in the office again, but whatever he wanted could wait until tomorrow. On the boat. After she'd had some sleep.

"For the love of God, can't you take a hint?" she asked testily, whirling around to face him.

Emma was still speaking when the fist ploughed into her face and sent her sprawling. "What the-" was all she could get out around the vice that gripped her chest when the wall behind her knocked the wind out of her.

Not Jones, her brain helpfully informed her a split second before someone's billy club sliced through the night air. Emma only just managed to duck away, the hard rod impacting her shoulder blade rather than her neck - her assailant's intended target. The blow still stunned her, making Emma stumble and throw one hand out to steady herself against the wall. The other reached for the knife she always kept in her pocket, needing something - anything - to protect her.

She rued the fact that she didn't carry her gun on a daily basis.

The familiar icy feeling of the metal grip pushed back some of the fear from being attacked. Emma harnessed the adrenaline as she'd been trained and spun on her heel to face her attacker.

Attackers.

There were three men circled around her, masks on their faces that made them look like they'd come straight off a B-movie set.

"Who are you, the Three Stooges? It gonna take all three of you to take down little old me?" Emma snarked, eyeing the badges clipped to their belts.

Cops.

Gold's men.

None of them were small enough to be Isaac, but Emma couldn't worry about their identities now. Stringbean and R2-D2 stepped back and she turned to face her third attacker head on. She ducked and slashed when the beefiest of the three took a swing at her, trying to grab her jacket. He pulled back with a howl, clutching his hand where blood oozed out. A painful wound, but not enough to slow him down, she catalogued automatically.

Keep track of all targets, it may save your life, her training echoed in her thoughts.

It was easier said than done. They came at her all at once, ducking and weaving around her own strikes and trying their best to catch hold of her. Emma wasn't aware of the damage they were inflicting at the time, her fight or flight response far too well engaged to notice trivial things like pain.

And then she was very aware of the lightning strike of pain at the base of her skull. One of the bastards had caught hold of her hair and yanked her off balance. Another trapped her arm under his and pried the knife from her desperately clenched fingers.

"What are you, seventh grade girls?" she managed to mutter before Beefy slammed his fist into her solar plexus, driving every last bit of air from her lungs.

Gasping and choking, Emma could do little more than go limp as Stringbean shoved her face-first into the brick wall. Her head hit the wall with a resounding thump and Emma slid down in spite of her best attentions.

R2-D2 began to kick at her and Emma pulled herself into as small of a ball as she could manage, wincing each time he connected with her ribs and biting back the tears - of pain and frustration both - until she could find an opening to regain her footing.

It never came.

Emma howled when Stringbean stomped on her hand, something underneath it shredding her palm open. He didn't give her the opportunity to pull it protectively into her chest, just stood with all his weight on it before hauling back and kicking her in the head with his other foot.

"Get your ass out of our house, bitch," was the last thing she heard before blackness closed in around her.

tagging: @killian-whump, @gilliangrissom, @nothingimpossibleonlyimprobable

[spideyspence]

“I Feel Like There’s Some Chemistry” ; Peter Parker

hey guys, this is my first bit of writing for this blog and i hope it doesnt suck?

enjoy this mediocre piece of writing. (the start is a bit choppy i apologise i can never start fics well unless it dives straight into the plot) (if there’s any spelling mistakes or anything i apologise i wrote this at like 1am and i really can’t be bothered editing ha i have no energy or motivation i have homework to do and all i wanna do is eat jaffa cakes but we have none left)

*

If Y/N received a dollar for each time she tripped on the uneven footpath by her house, she’d be able to pay for it to be fixed and even. She managed to dodge and jump over that uneven joint on the path as she went out into the city for the first time over the summer holidays.

She was stuck in her hot, stuffy room, studying and making sure that she was ready for the new school year. Working hard on chemistry and writing out equations, covalent bonds and all to make sure she was getting everything right. Her hard work had to pay off, just for once.

Before her mum went to work, she wrote a note and stuck it on the fridge recommending that her daughter get out of the house and go on a run or something, make a friend so she wasn’t alone for the next month and a half before school started.

Y/N rolled out of bed after wasting time on her phone and stumbled out into the kitchen and read the note on the fridge. Rolling her eyes, she got ready for the day. She debated on whether or not to actually go outside or not because it really was too hot for a run. Making friends? New York was so big it terrified her. She ended up putting on some denim shorts and a random t-shirt and headed out the door with her phone and headphones. Her laces were still undone as she walked down the footpath. Music flooded into her mind through her ears and she looked around but not down, as she tripped but someone ended up catching her.

‘Falling for me already? Can I grab your name first?’ A chuckle came from a masked figure when Y/N looked up. It was that Spider-Man guy from social media or whatever. She had seen videos of him doing flips and saving innocent lives but never planning to actually meet the hero.

‘Nice pick up line. I’m Y/N.’ She shook her head.

‘Well nice to meet you Y/N, I’m Spiderman.’

‘Nice to meet you ‘Spider-Boy’.’ She laughed, making fun of the boy/man?

‘Anyway, thanks for ‘saving’ me. I best be going?’ Y/N said as she walked past the male in the red and blue suit.

‘Anytime m’lady.’

Y/N sighed and continued on further into the city to find something to do that day.

-

Spiderman saving Y/N ended up becoming a regular occurrence. Spidey always managed to have some kind of stupid pick up line however on the third time was when he got a laugh out her.

‘You must be a compound of barium and beryllium because you're a total BaBe.’ The Spider-Man tried, and that line made Y/N laugh.

‘That’s definitely your best one yet.’ She laughed.

There was a month left till school started but Y/N had just found a second home at her new favourite coffee shop. Her iced coffee had the perfect amount of expresso to get her through the day and the atmosphere was perfect for her racing mind while studying, or picking up a book to read, whether one she genuinely enjoyed or had to read for the new school year. The muffins at the shop were also the cure to all the wrongs in her life, so she knew she was going to survive the coming year, no matter what was thrown at her.

-

With a week of the summer holidays to go before school starts, Y/N was double checking she had all her notebooks and pens for the new year. She wasn’t stressing (well that’s what she was telling herself) but after a rough time at her last school, she wanted this transition to go as smooth as possible. She sat down on her computer and got up a movie that she wished to watch and as it loaded, she walked out to the kitchen to get some snacks. Y/N didn’t want to go back to school but she knew that time was coming soon.

When she returned she nearly screamed because there was a figure standing outside her window however when she eyes focused and she saw the wave, she shook her head and opened up her window to let the summer night breeze in.

‘And what might you be doing here on this fine summer night web-boy?’ Y/N laughed.

‘Just wanted to check on the clumsy girl, make sure she was alright.’ The boy used as an excuse.

Spider-Man hadn’t revealed his identity to Y/N even though he did like her and trust her, it was just safer for less people to know.

‘So what school are you going to? I never actually ended up asking.’ Spider-Man questioned.

‘Midtown High School. It’s not too far away from here actually. Walking distance so I’m all good with that, get some exercise in each morning.’ Y/N said, lightening the mood.

Spider-Man stayed quiet, not knowing what to say. Midtown? Out of all the schools?

‘Is everything alright?’ Y/N asked, a little but worried because the boy in the suit was quiet.

‘Oh no, everything’s alright. I-’ He started but faltered. Was it a good idea to say that he went to the same school? He had told her that he was the same age, which would mean that they would be in the same year as well.

‘I go to Midtown too.’ Maybe trusting her wouldn’t end badly for once. As he had said to Mr. Stark, bad things end up happening because of you, but maybe, just maybe things would turn out right for the suited teenager.

‘That’s so cool. At least I won’t be alone right?’ She asked with a smile on her face.

‘That’s if you can figure out who I am first. If you figure out by lunch on the first day, I’ll shout you lunch. Here’s your first clue, I believe we’re in the same chemistry class.’

‘Thanks spider-boy. Also, it’s on.’ You smirked as the teenage boy exited back out through the window and returned home. Now it was her, her movie and her food.

-

With her bag on her back, Y/N was nervous for her first day. She knew that once she settled into her first class she was going to feel a lot more comfortable and her nerves would settle down. She had money on her for lunch, but she really wanted to save that money for something she saw down at the shops the other day but hadn’t managed to buy before school started.

It was a cooler day for the summer and the morning breeze called for Y/N to pull her jacket tighter over her body. With her caffeine in her hand she walked in through the front doors. The hallways were crowded with students however she easily found her way to the office. She received some paperwork from the nice lady behind the desk and was directed to her locker and where her first classroom was.

With her books in her locker she arrived at her first class of the year on time. Checking her schedule, her next class after recess was chemistry, so she had to wait an hour and a half.

-

Putting her books away and getting out her chemistry textbook left her feeling almost jittery with excitement. She had ended up befriending Spider-Man and she was praying that he was actually as nice in person as he was under the mask.

Y/N walked into the chemistry classroom and sat in the middle of the room. She sat there with her head up, looking around at unfamiliar faces that were now her peers that walked in through the door, not knowing which one the guy in the red and blue suit was.

Then a boy with floppy brown hair who was looking down at his feet walked in and he stood at the front of his class.

‘What’s up Penis Parker?’ A guy from the back of the class called out.

The boy looked up at Flash and rolled his eyes and then made eye contact with you. He smiled and then walked over to Y/N and sat his books down on the spot next to hers.

‘Is this seat taken?’ He politely asked.

‘No, it isn’t actually.’ She smiled.

The brown eyed boy sat down in the empty spot and looked up at the girl with y/e/c eyes.

‘I feel like there’s some chemistry between us, wouldn’t you say?’ He joked.

‘I’m going to need to know your name first, Parker.’ Y/N laughed.

‘I’m Peter.’

‘Hi Peter, I haven’t really looked at the lunch menu yet but I’m going to trust you with some recommendations since you’re buying me lunch, aren’t you?’ She smirked, knowing that this was the same guy she had befriended over the summer holidays. The same stupid chemistry pun and soft laughter in his voice.

‘Sorry, what?’ Peter said with confusion written all over his face.

‘Oh shit, um… I’m sorry. I thought you were someone else I’m so sorry.’ Y/N flushed bright red in embarrassment. At least she didn’t actually ask him if he was Spider-Man, that would’ve been much more humiliating.

‘No, all good. I get mistaken sometimes. Some say that they remind me of this spider guy.’ Peter smiled.

Y/N rolled her eyes at Peter’s stupid attempt of a joke after the embarrassment she felt.

‘I really wanted to keep that cash in my pocket, but I guess you’re just too good. It’s funny to see you flush though.’ Peter chuckled.

The chemistry teacher walked in and she fixed her posture from the slouching position she was in, so she could tune into what the teacher was going to say.

‘But yes, I’ll shout you lunch as promised. Just don’t get the spaghetti bolognese from there, worst decision I’ve ever made.’

[benjamingarden]

This Month On The Farm: January 2018

If you’re just tuning in, this is a brand new ongoing series in which I document each month of our lives in our transition to a simple, homemade life on a modern homestead. We ditched town and moved to the country in 2008 and we blog about both our successful and not-so-successful ventures in homesteading, switching to natural products, and embracing a whole foods lifestyle. 

January 2018 I switched from the weekly (or bi-weekly.....or bi-monthly......or when I could remember) "weekend" posts to a more formal compilation of our homesteading goodness, all pulled together for you once a month. For us, like many of you, January was mostly about the weather.  From the extreme (EXTREME I tell you) cold snaps that lasted weeks, to the snow and the ice.  Since I very much enjoy snow (not driving in it, rather, sitting at home with the pellet stove humming enjoying a nice hot cup of coffee while I watch it) this was a positive for January. For me. The animals, however, do not hold snow in such a high regard.

Coop Girls Well, we receive 3-6 eggs per day.  That sounds great until I remind you that we have 27 chickens.....  Mind you, some of them are older, but the majority should be producing and that's just not happening.  We don't use lighting to force them to produce throughout winter but they usually do ok.  Like more than 3 eggs a day ok.  Apparently not this year. The cold certainly causes some stress and we had single digit and negative numbers for a few weeks.  When it's that cold we just don't let them go out and that very much stresses them out.  They need to get away from each other (although they still tend to cluster while free ranging) and have some space.  Instead, they were stuck inside with the flat panel heaters keeping the coop just into double digits.  (Too much heat can make them sick so we heat it just enough that there's no risk of frostbite) Interestingly, the newer girls are not much for veggies.  All of our flocks over the years have been ecstatic at the sight of greens.  These girls, well, not so much.  They look and go "meh...anything else?"  They do enjoy carbs - oatmeal, pancakes, rice, bread, pasta, and the like but are not so excited about the taste of greens, squash and beans.  And they prefer their carbs with a little sauce - milk, yogurt, broth.....whatever we've got that can be added.  Not too picky, are they?

Dogs + Jack The boys are doing well.  Ollie is on to a new food.  This seems to be an annual thing with him.  I'm not sure why.  We are now on to Fresh Pet.  He seems to love it, although I'm not thrilled with how much space it takes up in the fridge.  We'll see if we can convert him back to the dehydrated food from Honest Kitchen.  Although J was right when he said - what's the difference?  They're both ridiculously expensive.  Oh well. Oh, hey, they turned 8 this month!!  No longer "babies" although to me, they always will be. And Jack is, well, Jack.  He's the same pain in the buns as he's been.  We love him, don't get me wrong, but the guy is something else, as you know.  Our newest ritual, it's been going on for about 3 months, is that he "picks me up" when it's time to go to bed.  Here's how it works:  he's upstairs sleeping in our walk-in closet (his little cat tent is in there).  About 9:45 he strolls downstairs, howling and crying - letting me know he's on his way.  He strolls into the living room, and hollers, until I get up to brush my teeth.  Once I'm in the bathroom, he insists on getting on the sink and smelling my toothpaste......while I brush, he brushes his entire body against me.  Over and over.  Once I'm done he is at my feet, again, brushing against me over and over until I head toward the stairs.  He gets so excited when we head up the stairs together and then he goes back in the closet and I go to bed.  I have no idea why in the world this seems to make him happy, but it does.  That's our Jack!

Business The rush of the holidays are over and the great news is that our online sales are remaining steady.  Typically, there's a dip in sales post holiday, but not this year.  Woot to that!  The farmer's market has slowed down, for the most part, but we still have some pretty good days.  We decided to pay for a double booth this year, like we do for summer, and it has made a world of difference!  It's so much nicer for our customers to shop and it's so much nicer for us!  I like to wrap soap while I'm there and it gives me the space to do so. We started a new thing for 2018 where we are making one limited edition soap scent per month for the year.  I'm excited about that - we've found some of our best selling scents with limited editions.  We will also be adding a couple of products to the line-up as well as taking some away.  Our soap is by-and-far our most popular product so the more popular it becomes, the more time we've got to spend making it, which means we don't have time to make all of the other products.  As I've shared in the past, we are bound and determined to keep this a smaller company of just the two of us, but also keep it running successful.  This is what we continue to strive for. Around The Farm We are excited for spring when we can begin moving outbuildings around in order to renovate the new manufacturing space.  Unfortunately, not much we can do in the dead of winter.  So, no projects have been completed this month.  I'm hoping for a few loose ends to be tied up next month (bathroom floor replaced, bathroom cabinet replaced, office light installed, etc.).  We are replacing our stove.....again.  The oven just won't keep the temperature and they continue to replace parts but it does not fix it.  So, when your cookies get burnt-crispy on the outside and are raw in the middle, well, you know it's time to buy a new one.  I hate that we have to do this with big projects coming in the spring, but that's how things seem to go, isn't it?  But the new one has double ovens so I'm a bit ecstatic about that.  Simple things that make me happy..... And I was one of the unfortunate ones to be stricken with the flu.  It was bound to happen, I suppose, with all of the people I come into contact with everyday.  I'm still dealing with the upper respiratory after effects, but I'm getting there.  So far, knock on wood, J has not come down with it. And that, my friends, is January in a nutshell!!

How about you?  

I would love to hear how your first month of the year has gone.

**********

Want More? If you're looking for more Cobble Hill Farm we'd love for you to connect with us on Instagram and Facebook!

**********

And if you want to make sure you don’t miss a post here, sign-up for our handy dandy email list in the box below. 

Sign up to get exclusive content, including our posts in your inbox, oh, and tons of chicken love. Just enter your email address in the box below and hit "subscribe".

This Month On The Farm: January 2018 was originally posted by My Favorite Chicken Blogs(benjamingardening)

[benjamingarden]

This Month On The Farm: January 2018

If you’re just tuning in, this is a brand new ongoing series in which I document each month of our lives in our transition to a simple, homemade life on a modern homestead. We ditched town and moved to the country in 2008 and we blog about both our successful and not-so-successful ventures in homesteading, switching to natural products, and embracing a whole foods lifestyle. 

January 2018 I switched from the weekly (or bi-weekly.....or bi-monthly......or when I could remember) "weekend" posts to a more formal compilation of our homesteading goodness, all pulled together for you once a month. For us, like many of you, January was mostly about the weather.  From the extreme (EXTREME I tell you) cold snaps that lasted weeks, to the snow and the ice.  Since I very much enjoy snow (not driving in it, rather, sitting at home with the pellet stove humming enjoying a nice hot cup of coffee while I watch it) this was a positive for January. For me. The animals, however, do not hold snow in such a high regard.

Coop Girls Well, we receive 3-6 eggs per day.  That sounds great until I remind you that we have 27 chickens.....  Mind you, some of them are older, but the majority should be producing and that's just not happening.  We don't use lighting to force them to produce throughout winter but they usually do ok.  Like more than 3 eggs a day ok.  Apparently not this year. The cold certainly causes some stress and we had single digit and negative numbers for a few weeks.  When it's that cold we just don't let them go out and that very much stresses them out.  They need to get away from each other (although they still tend to cluster while free ranging) and have some space.  Instead, they were stuck inside with the flat panel heaters keeping the coop just into double digits.  (Too much heat can make them sick so we heat it just enough that there's no risk of frostbite) Interestingly, the newer girls are not much for veggies.  All of our flocks over the years have been ecstatic at the sight of greens.  These girls, well, not so much.  They look and go "meh...anything else?"  They do enjoy carbs - oatmeal, pancakes, rice, bread, pasta, and the like but are not so excited about the taste of greens, squash and beans.  And they prefer their carbs with a little sauce - milk, yogurt, broth.....whatever we've got that can be added.  Not too picky, are they?

Dogs + Jack The boys are doing well.  Ollie is on to a new food.  This seems to be an annual thing with him.  I'm not sure why.  We are now on to Fresh Pet.  He seems to love it, although I'm not thrilled with how much space it takes up in the fridge.  We'll see if we can convert him back to the dehydrated food from Honest Kitchen.  Although J was right when he said - what's the difference?  They're both ridiculously expensive.  Oh well. Oh, hey, they turned 8 this month!!  No longer "babies" although to me, they always will be. And Jack is, well, Jack.  He's the same pain in the buns as he's been.  We love him, don't get me wrong, but the guy is something else, as you know.  Our newest ritual, it's been going on for about 3 months, is that he "picks me up" when it's time to go to bed.  Here's how it works:  he's upstairs sleeping in our walk-in closet (his little cat tent is in there).  About 9:45 he strolls downstairs, howling and crying - letting me know he's on his way.  He strolls into the living room, and hollers, until I get up to brush my teeth.  Once I'm in the bathroom, he insists on getting on the sink and smelling my toothpaste......while I brush, he brushes his entire body against me.  Over and over.  Once I'm done he is at my feet, again, brushing against me over and over until I head toward the stairs.  He gets so excited when we head up the stairs together and then he goes back in the closet and I go to bed.  I have no idea why in the world this seems to make him happy, but it does.  That's our Jack!

Business The rush of the holidays are over and the great news is that our online sales are remaining steady.  Typically, there's a dip in sales post holiday, but not this year.  Woot to that!  The farmer's market has slowed down, for the most part, but we still have some pretty good days.  We decided to pay for a double booth this year, like we do for summer, and it has made a world of difference!  It's so much nicer for our customers to shop and it's so much nicer for us!  I like to wrap soap while I'm there and it gives me the space to do so. We started a new thing for 2018 where we are making one limited edition soap scent per month for the year.  I'm excited about that - we've found some of our best selling scents with limited editions.  We will also be adding a couple of products to the line-up as well as taking some away.  Our soap is by-and-far our most popular product so the more popular it becomes, the more time we've got to spend making it, which means we don't have time to make all of the other products.  As I've shared in the past, we are bound and determined to keep this a smaller company of just the two of us, but also keep it running successful.  This is what we continue to strive for. Around The Farm We are excited for spring when we can begin moving outbuildings around in order to renovate the new manufacturing space.  Unfortunately, not much we can do in the dead of winter.  So, no projects have been completed this month.  I'm hoping for a few loose ends to be tied up next month (bathroom floor replaced, bathroom cabinet replaced, office light installed, etc.).  We are replacing our stove.....again.  The oven just won't keep the temperature and they continue to replace parts but it does not fix it.  So, when your cookies get burnt-crispy on the outside and are raw in the middle, well, you know it's time to buy a new one.  I hate that we have to do this with big projects coming in the spring, but that's how things seem to go, isn't it?  But the new one has double ovens so I'm a bit ecstatic about that.  Simple things that make me happy..... And I was one of the unfortunate ones to be stricken with the flu.  It was bound to happen, I suppose, with all of the people I come into contact with everyday.  I'm still dealing with the upper respiratory after effects, but I'm getting there.  So far, knock on wood, J has not come down with it. And that, my friends, is January in a nutshell!!

How about you?  

I would love to hear how your first month of the year has gone.

**********

Want More? If you're looking for more Cobble Hill Farm we'd love for you to connect with us on Instagram and Facebook!

**********

And if you want to make sure you don’t miss a post here, sign-up for our handy dandy email list in the box below. 

Sign up to get exclusive content, including our posts in your inbox, oh, and tons of chicken love. Just enter your email address in the box below and hit "subscribe".

This Month On The Farm: January 2018 was originally posted by My Favorite Chicken Blogs(benjamingardening)