#i won’t load up these tags but rest assured head full many thoughts

[peachypizzicato]

im so late but (points) 🏳️‍🌈❓

[wrenhyperfixates]

How the God Stole Christmas

Pairing: Loki x reader Summary: Loki despises Christmas, and after watching the Grinch, he decides there’s only one thing to do about it. But you just might melt his cold heart. Warnings: zip, zilch, zero A/N:  So this is my little spoof of the original and best Grinch, starring Loki. Hope you all enjoy :)

Tag List: @lucywrites02 @frostedgiant​​ @lunarmoon8​ @twhiddlestonsstuff​ @lokistan​ @thelokiimaginechroniclesficrecs​ @gaitwae​ @whatafuckingdumbass​

Disclaimer: Gif not mine 

Red and green everywhere, the same songs playing in every single store, silly little decorations in every nook and cranny. Yup, it was official. Loki hated Christmas. He couldn’t even place his finger on why, exactly; he just did. So, naturally, this was his least favorite time of year. Sadly, none of his teammates seemed to share that sentiment.

Loki walked into the common room only to hear the same carol that was playing in the last shop he’d visited. He gritted his teeth against the sound of his brother signing along. The Tower was just as heavily decorated as the rest of the city. If there was a Christmas-field version of something, you could bet one of the Avengers had bought it. And if they hadn’t, it was just a matter of time.

At least the sweets constantly being baked weren’t entirely despicable. Though, admittedly, even his notorious sweet tooth was getting a little sick of them. Right now, he could smell the aroma of gingerbread wafting from the oven. It made him consider skipping the cup of tea he was currently on his way to get, but he knew he needed it if he had any chance of calming down. He was glad he’d decided to go to the kitchen after all when he saw you were the one baking, flour smeared on your apron and face in an adorable mess.

The poor God of Mischief was still rather isolated from everyone else. He was trying, but by the time any of the Avengers had gotten over his past wrongdoings, he was sour towards all of them. It was hard to want to be friends with people who spent the first six months of his living in the Tower scorning him. It was also hard to call a place like that home. There had been one shining beacon of beautiful light during those early days: you.

“Hello, darling,” he greeted, heating up the water for his cup. “Those cookies smell divine.”

“Oh! Hi Loki,” you exclaimed, turning around, not having heard him enter. “And thanks. Do you want to help us decorate?”

“That depends on who exactly ‘us’ is.”

“The whole team.” He made a small hum of acknowledgement and blew on his scalding drink. You frowned a little, knowing full well that he distanced himself because of how they used to treat him. But you also knew they wanted to change things, they just weren’t entirely sure how. “It could be a great bonding opportunity. Plus, I’ll be there, obviously, but so will Peter and Bucky. Doesn’t it sound fun?”

Besides you, the trickster god found some companionship in the two aforementioned Avengers. They’d come after Loki had, and Peter’s endless optimism had won him over. As for Bucky, he had gone through much the same that Loki had, their common pasts bonding them quickly. Unfortunately, all his friends loved this despicable holiday.

“Perhaps another time,” he finally replied. “Next year.”

“Ok,” you sighed. “You’ll at least watch movies with us tonight, right?”

“I do not know. Perhaps it would be better if I did not.”

“Please,” you pouted. “Come on, it’s Christmas Eve. I’ll even save a special cookie for you.”

“Your persistence is as relentless as it is adorable,” he laughed. “I will come, but just for a movie or two. Deal?”

“Deal!” you squealed. “You won’t regret it. Oh! And, Loki, come here.”

You wrapped your arms around him, holding him in a tight embrace. It surprised him, to say the least. He still wasn’t entirely used to such signs of affection, but they were welcome, especially from you. However, he never was quite sure how to respond. After a second, he somewhat awkwardly wrapped his arms around you to return the hug.

“What was that for?” he questioned as you pulled back.

“You just seemed like you needed one,” you shrugged.

The joy that that gave him lasted all the way into the evening when it was time for him to join you for a movie, as promised. He’d put it off as long as he could, even considering just skipping and saying he’d fallen asleep. That would upset you, though, and you were the one person he hated to lie to. So, he made his way to the common room where a new movie was just starting. You scooted over a little on the couch so he could squeeze in between you and Peter. Bucky was sitting on the floor close by, and Loki had no doubt you’d specifically requested they be in those positions so he felt more comfortable. He was greeted with a few polite—dare he say, borderline friendly—nods and waves from a few of his other teammates. And, of course, an overly enthusiastic pat on the back from his brother as he passed.

“Loki! Glad you could make it,” you whispered as he plopped down next to you.

“Well, a deal is a deal, darling.”

“That reminds me, here’s your cookie.”

The little gingerbread man you handed him was decorated to look like him in his Asgardian battle armor. It was a wonderful likeness, all things considered. He smiled as he took a bite of the baked good. He tried to let go of all hate for the season as he relished this moment with you, but it was still lingering there.

“It is delicious, thank you.”

“No problem. I’m glad you liked it.”

You quieted down as the movie began and the opening credits played. Loki was already losing interest, and then the title appeared. How the Grinch Stole Christmas. A most intriguing title, he mused. Now that his interest was peaked, he watched with rapt attention as the animated film began. That grumpy, green fellow was possibly the best protagonist in any movie he’d been made to watch yet. He certainly had the right idea about Christmas. And those tiny little voices would have annoyed Loki to no end. It really was no different than what he was going through now, he realized. He thought it rather rude to call the Grinch “mean” though. It seemed to Loki he was just misunderstood.  

As he watched the Grinch load up all the wreathes and toys into his sleigh, Loki was struck with an idea. Why should he not be able to do the same thing? Ok, maybe he couldn’t get away with stealing from the whole city, but what about the Tower? It was his home, too, and no one had asked him how he felt about all this stuff.

Now that he had a master plan blossoming in his head, he didn’t much care to see the end of the movie. He’d gotten everything he needed out of it. So, he went up to get a refill on his drink. By the time he go back, it was over.

“You missed the ending,” Peter said. “Do you want us to go back?”

“No, it is fine. I thought it was perfect just the way it was.”

“But all you saw was him stealing Christmas?”

“Exactly.”

“Should I be worried?”

“No. In fact, I could use your help.”

Before Peter could ask with what, everyone was getting up and leaving the room, ready to call it a night. You fretted over the fact that he’d only gotten to see one movie, but he assured you it was alright. The matter wasn’t dropped until he promised to watch at least one more tomorrow, too. It didn’t make much difference to him though, considering that after he was through with the Tower, he was sure no one would be much in the mood for Christmas movies, anyway.

“You’re planning something,” Bucky said before exiting.

“Maybe. Are you looking to assist?”

“Probably not. But good luck.”

“Fair enough. Goodnight.”

“Yeah, goodnight, Loki,” Peter said as he tried to hurry off after Bucky.

“Spiderling, may I enlist your help?” Loki asked.

“I, uh, yeah, I guess. What are friends for?”

“Excellent!” Loki exclaimed as the rest of the Avengers finished filing out.

The more he explained the plan, the more nervous Peter became. It did give Loki a bit of a pause, but oh, it sounded like great fun! For weeks on end now, he’d been suffering through this horrid season. It was just a little payback to the universe. That was fair, right? Maybe, but it was not fair to force his friend to help him.

“Listen, spiderling, if you do not wish to help, you do not have to,” Loki said.

“This is going to make you happy, right? Like, is this going to make your Christmas?”

“Quite honestly, I think it will.”

Peter considered for a moment, weighing the pros and cons of this situation. “Ok, I’ll help. On one condition. We leave everyone’s rooms as they are. We’ll just clean out the common areas.”

“That is quite reasonable. Thank you, spiderling.”

The duo got to work, stuffing all the little decorations in their sacks. Peter insisted that if they were going to do this, they had to do it right, and fetched a reindeer antler headband for himself and a Santa hat for Loki. While it was on the one hand entirely ridiculous, it did give Loki a bit of a laugh at the implication of it. Him as the Grinch and Peter as Max, his reluctant but loyal ally. The thought made him smile a little.

Everything was going great until they got to the first of the many large trees in the Tower. Loki stood there with a cocked head, tapping his chin. Sure, he could try to do it like the Grinch had, but life wasn’t a cartoon. So, no, that would pose more of a problem than a solution. Besides, Loki had something the Grinch didn’t. Magic. Carefully working his seiðr, the god shrunk down the first pine, ornaments and all, and put it in one of the bags.

A little while later, he was getting ready to do the same thing to one of the last remaining trees. Then you came stumbling out into the room. Peter did a little panicked dance before slinging a web and sticking himself to the ceiling. Loki walked up to you and laid his hands on your shoulder, trying to determine how conscious you actually were.

“Loki?” you asked, rubbing your eyes, your voice a little slurred from sleep. “What’re you doing? Where’re all the decorations?”

“You tell me. It is your dream,” he quickly lied.

“My dream,” you parroted spotting the filled sack on the ground near his feet “So is this because we watched the Grinch? Does that make me Cindy Lou Who?”

“I suppose it does, darling,” he laughed. “Why don’t you go back to bed?”

“Are you going to put everything thing back, Loki Claus?”

This time the chuckle came from Peter, who was watching the whole thing play out from his vantage point. You were too out of it to notice, though. Instead, you kept looking at Loki with those adorable doe eyes.

“I... Perhaps. Let us just get you back to your room right now, ok?”

You nodded, and he picked up your tired body, using his godly strength to carry you bridal style and lay you down amongst your many blankets and pillows. You gently tugged him down onto the mattress with you, and he remained there for a moment, not exactly sure of what was happening.

“Do you need to talk?” you questioned, cupping his cheeks and seeming a bit more awake than you a had a second ago. “I know things are hard, but we all do really care for you. I really care for you. And I’m here for you. You know that, right?”

“I know. I will be alright, darling. Just get a good night’s sleep for me, hmm?”

“Ok,” you sighed as he got up. “Night, Loki.”

“Goodnight, darling,” he whispered as he leaned over to give your head a small kiss.

He walked back out to his partner in crime, who was anxiously awaiting him. Loki let out a huff. He knew what the right thing to do now was.

“So?” Peter asked.

“Let’s put it all back,” Loki conceded.

And so they did. It took most of the night, but they got every last knickknack and ornament into place. Then Loki did something he never imagined he would; he added even more. His magic made the garlands a little bit fuller, the lights a little bit brighter, and the trees a little bit taller. More little statues and winter scenes appeared on nearly every surface possible. Finally, he nearly doubled the number of gifts under the tree, adding his own to the mix. He gave a satisfied little nod when he was done, then looked at Peter who was beaming at him.

“What is it?” Loki inquired, though he knew the answer deep down.

“Oh, nothing. This was fun, though. We should do this every year,” Peter yawned as they worked their way to their rooms to catch a couple hours of sleep.

“Maybe we will, spiderling. Maybe we will.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Loki woke up the next morning slightly more cheerful than he had in months. Ironic, considering today was actually Christmas, the culmination of the season he hated so much. Swinging his legs over the side of his bed and stretching out, Loki realized maybe he really was like the Grinch, and the only reason he disliked it so much was because he was so alone. And, like the Grinch, maybe he wasn’t appreciating those he did have enough. Maybe it was time to come out of his mountain cave and live amongst the people in town.

He eyed his Santa hat from last night, hanging from a bedpost. He picked it up and put it on his head, laughing a little in the mirror. He tugged on a deep green cable-knit sweater before he remembered the rest of the team’s plan to wear ugly sweaters today. He wasn’t sure what had gotten into him exactly, but he conjured one up for himself. It was a little ridiculous, but he supposed that was the whole point.

Heading out into the hall, he realized everything was dead silent. Loki wondered for a second if maybe you all had decided to go out for breakfast this morning. He sighed, but he couldn’t really hold it against any of you if you hadn’t invited him. He never said yes on a normal day, and he’d made it a point just how much he disliked Christmas. Regardless, he made his way to the kitchen.

“Merry Christmas!”

He nearly pulled out a dagger as everyone suddenly jumped out in front of him and shouted those words. Once his heart rate slowed back down to normal, he smiled despite himself. That’s when he noticed plates piled high with his favorite foods and realized you’d all must have gotten up early to do this for him.

“Merry Christmas, everyone. What is all this?”

“We just wanted to do something for you, Loki,” you explained. “Oh! And we got you a gift. Here.”

You handed him a small package wrapped in green and gold. It must have been convenient that his colors were also colors for the holiday. He laughed a little to himself, wondering how he hadn’t noticed before. He tore into the wrapping paper to find a small planner. You nodded at him, urging him on as he gave you a quizzical look. It had a bunch of events written in it, as well as which members of the team were attending.

“See, we know you don’t always come to our team events,” Bucky told him, “but we know you might want to start.”

“We have not always been the most... accepting,” Thor added. “Now, though, we want you to be able to come to any and everything you want to.”

“So we wrote it all down for you,” Peter finished. “This way, you know when things are and can just join whenever you feel like it.”

“Do you like it?” you nervously asked, biting your lip.

“Darling, it’s perfect,” he sincerely told you, tears of gratitude welling in his eyes. “Thank you. All of you.”

He was met with a chorus of “you’re welcomes” and “anytimes” as the room was filled with even more smiles. Soon, everyone dug into the feast that had been prepared, and the rest of the day was filled with merriment and laughter. Loki was surprised to see there were even more gifts for him resting under the tree. By the time it was dark out, the team was settling in to watch a few final Christmas movies for the season. Loki didn’t think he’d be taking any ideas from them tonight.

“Darling,” he said as the two of you were alone, grabbing movie snacks in the kitchen. “May I ask you why you all did what you did for me?”

“It’s like we said, Loki. We all do care about you, and we want you to be able to do stuff with us. They know you’re not a bad guy, you’ve more than proven that. For a long time they just weren’t exactly sure how to bridge the gap. But you’re a part of the team, and we want you to feel like it.”

“Thank you. You have no idea how much that means to me.”

“It’s no problem, Loki. Plus, you really did go all out with these extra decorations.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he blushed.

“Oh?” you said, walking up to him so that you bodies were nearly pressed together. “You don’t now, huh Loki Claus?”

Of course you hadn’t bought his lie last night. He laughed a little to himself now for thinking you had. But Loki realized something else, too. What you’d done last night, what you’d said, you’d fully known what you were doing. The way you’d pulled him onto the bed and held his face, told him how you cared. You knew it was real.

“Darling,” he said. “I think I do need to talk, after all.”

“I’m listening. What is it?”

“I love you.”

You pulled him in for a kiss, and he reciprocated immediately, smiling against your lips. Now he was wondering if he was dreaming. But no, just like last night, this was real.

“In case it wasn’t obvious,” you said, catching your breath, “I love you too.”

Hand in hand, you went to join the rest of the team. So maybe Loki’s heart didn’t literally grow three sizes that day, but there was one more comparison to be drawn. Because, you see, in finding his place, Loki realized that Christmas wasn’t so bad after all.

[mysterioh]

The Ignorant Beauty and The Beast of New York - Ch. 17

PAIRING: MOB!STEVE ROGERS X READER

SYNOPSIS: You love biology. The study of life excites you. But you hate people. Especially the ones that like to stick their nose in your business. Too bad the King of Brooklyn didn't get the memo.

A/N: Don’t exactly know how I feel about this chapter but here it is!

MASTERLIST

The Truth’s Out

“Red or black?” you asked, showing two of the dresses you picked out. 

“Just pick any,” Steve grumbles, leaning on the clothes rack. His expression holds an exaggerated exhaustion that had you rolling your eyes. 

Your arms drop to your side and you give him the meanest glare he’s seen in two months. A lazy smile tugs at his lips. 

It’s true. You’ve been dating for two whole months and even celebrated your two month anniversary two weeks ago. You thought it was stupid to celebrate, believing that it should’ve been a more memorable milestone. A year or five. Even six months was considered more important than two. But if Steve put his mind to something, he did it. So he took - dragged - you to a fancy restaurant in the Upper East and bought you the prettiest Valentino crossbody with a price tag that had you gaping. 

"I feel like I'm your sugar baby," you muttered, holding the clutch in your hand. Your fingers slide along the tan leather of the rockstud bag. It feels uncomfortable, solely because you’ve never held something so expensive in your hands. 

Without a doubt, you loved the gift. You had a weakness for designer items. Although you’ve never bought anything even close to it, that didn’t stop you from drooling while scrolling on websites just to admire the latest trends and cry at the prices. 

"You're my girlfriend," Steve corrects, eyes glued to the street as he drives. "And if I don't spoil my girl, who will?" 

You open your mouth to say something snarky but he cuts you off.

"And I won't let anyone else so don't get any ideas,” he deadpans. 

You laugh, then lean over and hug him from the side. You pressed your lips against his cheek and mushed the other side of his face with your hand. Steve tries his best to keep the car straight on the road, but you’re not helping. 

“If I crash this car, it will be your fault.” 

“You're no help," you complain, “You came to help.” 

Steve stood up straight and pointed up. “Actually, I came to spend time with you,” he said, "Cause I haven't seen you in a week.”

You frown, feeling guilty. "I had a busy week,” you explained, “I had back-to-back shifts and three exams."

"So that's why I'm here trying to spend time with you,” he assures with a smile. 

“You are spending time with me!” 

��This wasn’t really what I had in mind.”

“Fine," you pouted, "I’ll help myself,” you stated, turning over to the mirror on the wall. You placed the red dress in front of you and then the black while deep in thought. 

Steve rolls his eyes. 

“Babe, just pick the one you like the most.” 

“That’s the thing," you turn over to him, "I like both! But I don’t know which one would look better on me.”

Steve shrugs. “I think you’d look good in both.” 

You give him a half frown. “You’re just saying that so we can leave.” 

“Maybe," he shrugs again. Maybe not.” 

“Maybe I’ll try them on and see which one looks better," you conclude, hanging them over one arm. 

Steve sighs and places his hands on his hips in defeat. “If it means we’ll be able to leave faster, then go for it," he points towards the rooms. 

You chuckle at his frustration while making your way to the changing rooms. You walk into an empty stall and slide the curtain behind you. Steve waits outside, his back leaning against the wall. 

He observes the others in the store. Teenage girls gossiped and giggled while traversing through the maze of clothing racks with ease. Employees were scattered throughout the store, looking like Death himself with the average Karen sneakily approaching them for some outrageous request.

The kingpin was a force to be reckoned with. A six foot force with bulging muscles and unmatched skill in strategy and combat, to be exact. And yet, a simple shopping trip had him whining like a child. 

Steve bangs his head against the wall with a grunt. He's been here too long, and he's craving for something sweet. 

He knocks on the wall. “How long is this going to take? You’ve been in there for an hour," he exaggerates. 

The sound of metal rings sliding along the rod makes him turn, only to pause the minute his eyes fall on you. 

The ruby-colored dress hugs against the curves of your figure and falls just above the knee. Your upper chest is bare besides for the spaghetti straps running over your collarbones and the cowl neck giving a teaser of your cleavage. 

His jaw goes slack, leaving his mouth open in awe. 

"How do I look?" You ask, turning from side to side to give him a full view. 

Steve.exe has stopped working. 

“Amazing. Gorgeous. Show-stopping. Extraordinary," he spews one out after the other. 

“You sound like a creep," you chuckle at him before turning towards the mirror inside the room. 

Steve smiles wickedly and wraps his arms around your waist from behind and rests his chin on your shoulder. 

“Babe, you look absolutely stunning," he says, blues eyes piercing at you from the reflection of the mirror. 

His grip around your waist grows tighter as he nuzzles his nose on the side of your neck. He plants kisses along the curve of your neck and it has shivers zipping down your spine. 

“Steve!” you turn slightly towards him and give him a slap on the chest. “People are watching!” you scold him. 

He chuckles against you, his hot breath tickling the bare skin of your shoulder. “I don’t care. I don’t know ‘em," he replies. 

“Should I try the other one?” you ask. 

“Nah, forget about it. This dress was made for you,' he assures. "C'mon let's get outta here," he pulls you along. 

"Let me change first!” 

Pietro lets out a deep, prolonged sigh. With his face propped up in his hand, he lazily mixes his smoothie with the straw and looks blankly at the masses in the food court. 

“What’s wrong?” Vision asks, taking a slurp of his own smoothie. 

“Just bored, Viz,” he sighs again. 

Vision checks the time on his wristwatch. “I’m sure Wanda will be back soon.” 

“I was speaking in general,” Pietro explains. “And forget about her coming back soon. That never happens.” 

“Then why are you so bored?” Vision questions, leaning forward in his chair. 

Pietro shrugs, then swipes a hand through his hair. His hand stays in his hair, and he tugs on it hard. “Nothing’s happening. I need some action, ya know?” he turns to the pale-skinned boy in front of him. He sits up and lifts his hands in an animated motion. “I need some fire. Some destruction!” 

“Or maybe you just need a job,” Vision deadpans. 

Pietro’s lips fall into a pout. “I have a job,” he retorts. 

“I’m talking about a real job.” 

“I have a real job!”

“Being an information broker isn’t a real job,” Vision replies. “You just like to gossip.” 

“I get paid for my gossip,” Pietro grumbles. “So it’s a job.”

“And that’s why you are on the brink of being homeless,” Vision smirks mockingly.

Pietro huffs, then rests his chin on the table. “Things have been slow lately. No one’s cheating on their girlfriend or pulling someone’s eyeballs out, so I’ve got nothing to work with here,” he complains. 

“Then why don’t you get a real job?” the other boy suggests. “And stop leeching off of Wanda.”

Pietro whips up again and points at Vision. “You know what, Viz—,” he cuts himself off when he notices a familiar yet unfamiliar face walking by. Pietro’s face lights up in a split second, making Vision raise a brow. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t the kingpin,” he snickers. 

“The who?”

Pietro looks back at Vision. “The kingpin, moron! You’re such a smart guy and you don’t even know who Steve Rogers is?”

“I’ve heard of him.”

“Hell yeah, ya heard of him. The guy’s loaded,” Pietro exclaims. He raises a brow in question when his eyes catch you holding Steve’s hand. “But who’s that girl with him?”

 Vision squints at the two. “I know of her,” he replies. “She’s a friend of Wanda’s. They work together. I think her name’s Y/N.” 

“Y/N, huh?” Pietro smiles, pulling out his phone. 

“What the hell are you doing?”  

“Nothing,” Pietro leans over the entire table, bringing his phone to Vision’s end. He zooms in as much as he can. 

God bless the iPhone 11 Pro Max. 

He takes a few pictures of the two. 

“Stop that, we’re in public!” Vision exclaims quietly. “This is so wrong on so many levels!”

Pietro looks up at him before taking another picture. “I’m doing my job, Viz, just like you told me to,” he replies with a smug grin. 

“You’re going to get killed and get me killed for associating with you.” Pietro takes a few more pictures of the passing couple. Vision covers the camera with his hand. “Stop that!” 

Pietro clicks his tongue before pulling back. He checks the photos one by one and smiles. 

Hell yeah, 4k baby. 

“Delete those right now!” 

He looks up at him with a grimace. “No,” he states flatly, before returning to his phone. 

“Think about your poor sister, will you?” Vision tries to play the empathy card. “If the kingpin finds out you took pictures of him unknowingly, he’ll have your neck.” 

Pietro stands up. “I’ve been doing this for a long time, buddy, nothing’s going to happen,” he smirks while passing him, patting him on the shoulder as he does. 

“Where the hell are you going now?” 

“Just going to go have a little fun,” he replies, “Tell Wanda I’ll call her later.” 

Vision sends him off with a disappointed shake of the head that Pietro didn’t seem to care about. He swipes through the photos, then stops at one. He zooms in just enough to see the kingpin sneak a little kiss with his girl. He swipes to the next picture. It’s one of you looking up at Steve, smiling, red-cheeked and heart-eyed. His eyes linger on you for a while. A wicked smile tugs at his lips and reaches the tips of his ears. 

“You’re gonna make me rich, sweetheart.” 

You yawned while skipping up the stairs of the subway into the warmth of the sun with heavy footsteps and heavier eyelids

Take early morning classes, you told yourself. It’d be easy, you said. 

LIES. ALL YOU EVER DID WAS LIE TO YOURSELF. 

You stray from the rest of the crowd, taking your daily shortcut to the science building. It was an old alleyway that led to a loading center right behind the university. It was a better route than being battered in the masses of the main street. Not to mention it gave you an extra ten minutes before class to pick up a coffee. 

Sure it was a bit sketchy, but who’d be stupid enough to mug you in broad daylight? 

"What’s a pretty girl like you doing in a street like this?" a gruff voice comes from your left. 

You just had to ask. 

Raucous and obscene fits of laughter erupt within the narrow alleyway. You walk on, your strides growing wider, without paying them any mind. 

The man throws his cigarette to the ground and stomps on it. He takes two wide steps towards you and turns you around by the shoulder. “Hey, princess, it ain’t polite to ignore people.” 

"Don't touch me,” you shake his hand off your elbow. 

The brute raises a brow. “I’ve seen your face somewhere,” he states, “You’re the kingpin’s whore,” he grins wickedly.You froze when the words left his tongue, eyes softening into fear. He grabs you by the wrist as his friends start to surround you. It feels like you’re a rabbit in the middle of a pack of wolves. 

“Yeah, it’s her alright,” another pipes up, “she’s all over the news.”

News? What news?!?! 

The one holding onto your arm pulls you roughly towards him, snickering. "How about we have a little fun?" he teases. 

You try your best to twist your way out of his grasp with your free hand, but another man comes and yanks on your hand hard. Your head whips towards him, heart beating rapidly at the thought of what they’d do to you in the hidden alley. 

He smiles at you, letting the silver in his teeth shine in the sun. 

"C'mon baby, we’ll play nice,” he cooes, his face in your face. You squirm away from him, but he tugs you closer. "What? Not good enough for ya? A night with the king got you high up in the air? Don't get so full of yourself. You're nothing but his slut." 

"Let me go!" you shout with a hope that someone would hear. But let’s face it. This is New York. Even if someone could hear you, they wouldn’t come to help you. 

"Thing is, I got a little beef with the big guy,” he growls, digging into his pocket and taking out a switchblade. Your eyes grow wide at the sight of the sharp blade. “Since I can't get to him,” he brings the blade to your chin, “I'll settle with you." 

Swinging your leg as hard as you can, you kick the silver toothed man hard in the groin. You feel a sharp stinging on the side of your face as he drops the blade and shouts a curse in pain.

Now with a free hand, you go straight for the man holding the other and punch him directly in the jaw. He lets go and grumbles holding the face in his hand. 

The rest of the crew stood silent, completely stunned by the quick turn of events. You take it as a moment to flee. Turning on your heel, you dash down the alley as fast as you can. 

"Don't let her get away!" You hear one of them shout behind you. 

You turn around the corner, opposite in the direction of school. You’re not thinking, you’re just running. Everything in your mind is a big blur. It’s just one foot in front of the other in an attempt to widen the gap between you and them. 

Your breaths came in small spurts, hot and nervous. Your fingers are balled tightly into fists, swinging back and forth as if it’d make you run faster. Your lungs and heart are pumping, but the air doesn’t seem to be enough as you sprinted forward, panic trembling in your exhausted limbs. 

Your eyes were shut tight, trying to keep your sanity at bay. It’s all a bit too familiar. The rush of adrenaline and the fear of getting caught. It takes you back to a memory you buried six feet under. 

Their heavy pants and growling curses mingle with the words that echo in your head. His voice rings in your ear, like he’s the one chasing you. 

“You can run all you want, kid, but in the end you’ll come right back here! Right back to me.” 

You turn around another corner to find trash cans lining the wall. You push them over, letting them topple to the floor, creating a pathetic excuse of an obstacle. But it works. It slows them down just enough for you to turn around the corner of another alleyway.

You run down the path, speed constant, and notice the sound of their jeers growing distant. But even so, you keep running until you reach the main street. Only stopping when you hear tires screeching along the asphalt of the street. 

You freeze in front of the car, the bumper just inches away from your body. The door opens and Steve quickly gets out and his friends follow. His hair is a mess and his clothes too casual than his normal attire. 

You swallow deep when his eyes meet yours. “Y/N,” he calls with a breathy pant. 

Tears start to bubble at the corner of your eyes. All of the confusion and fear finally starts to sink in, but you’re trying your best to keep it all in. The slam of the door behind him was the little push you needed to let go. 

“Steve,” you mumble, meeting him halfway. 

Your face slams into his chest, hugging him tight. His arms wrapped around you create a safe haven. The scent of a day’s old cologne and cigarettes feels just right. The relaxed beat of his heart against your ear calms your tense nerves. But it was the press of his lips against your forehead that really brought you home with a warm welcome. 

“You’re late,” you mutter against him. 

“Sorry, Monday morning traffic is killer,” his voice rumbles against the side of your face. You can hear the smile in his words. 

You look up at him with a small smile. He wipes the wet smears around your eyes, keeping your face in his hands. 

“Bad day?” 

“It’s Monday, what do you expect?” 

He chuckles softly, “Point made,” his thumb brushes against the scrape running along your chin. 

“Steve, did you see–?” 

"I saw 'em." he answers. 

"What's gonna happen now?" 

“I don’t know. We’ll figure it out,” he assures, “but first let me find the bastards that did this to you.” 

“This?” you pointed at the cut, “this is nothing. Really.”

“It is something,” he replies firmly. 

“But it’s nothing to worry about.”  

“Well I’m worrying anyway.” 

"Hey, Y/N, you okay?" Peter asks sweetly. 

You smile at him. God, this kid. Where has he been? You’ve been missing him. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be in school?” you teased. 

“I’m twenty-years-old!” he exclaims with a pout, earning a chuckle from you. 

Your new friends run down the alley and out onto the street. They freeze at the sight of the mob boss towering over them in all his majestic glory. Steve’s jaw ticks and his eyes fall on them with a murderous intent. Their beady eyes divert to you, hidden in the kingpin’s embrace, but don’t linger for long. They’ve pissed off the guy enough as it is, ogling his girl would just make it worse. 

“Well if it isn’t a bunch of rats,” Bucky sneers with a chuckle and Peter mimics him. 

“Hey, Sammy, do me a favor and go break some bones.” Steve orders. 

“But I thought you said—”

“This is an exception,” Steve interrupts with a chuckle. “Go have some fun.” 

“Yes!” Bucky pumps his fist. “Finally! My bones are getting rusty,” he stretches his legs and arms. 

“That may just be because you’re old.” 

“Shut up, Pete, or I’ll beat your ass first,” Bucky snaps at him, “All right ladies, let’s get into formation,” he claps. 

“You are not Beyonce, you can’t say that,” Sam deadpans. 

Bucky whips his long brown locks with his hand.  “No, I’m Bucky with the good hair.” 

“It’s official, I hate you,” Sam groans, “Hey, where the fuck do you think you're going?" He pulls the silver-toothed man back by the collar. 

“Come on, let’s go,” Steve turns you around before Sam punches the man’s teeth out and leads you to the car. 

It takes everything in your willpower to not look back. You can hear it all. Heavy punches and deep grunts. Strained curses and feet scuffling on the concrete. 

And it makes you wonder. Despite all that had happened. Was it really all right for them to take the law into their own hands? 

TAGLIST (1 OPEN): @ashwarren32 @rootcrop @siriusement @savedbystark @little-dark-empress @great-goddess-of-sin @boxofteenageideas @imsonick @scuzmunkie @achishisha @calwitch @chuckennuggets1213 @captainchrisstan @thirstybunz @littlebees-things​ @voltage-my2dlove​ @booktease21​ @rinkashirikitateku​ @harleyscheekheart​ @allegra-writes​ @iced-capsicle​ @eliza5616​ @bookgirlunicorn​ @murdermornings​ @fckdeusername​ @illbethethundertoyourlightning​ @kaetastic​ @windshieldlaughjin  

[suffering-and-happy-about-it]

A Furry Friend (Stressed Out, Part 5.)

Series despription: Once upon a time, there was a lonely dog locked up in his own home. The lonely dog became sad and angry - until a woman came to stay at the lonely, sad house one day.

Part summary: Since you’ve been worried about opening up to Sirius himself, the man chose another method of keeping you company... For which you’ve been endlessly grateful.

A/N: I just had to drag Padfoot into this bunch, because PADFOOT IS THE PUREST PART OF THE WHOLE HARRY POTTER SAGA. HE’S SO FLUFFY AND I LOVE HIM.

Word counter: 3.9 K

Tagging: @missdictatorme​, @siriuslymerlin​

Playlist: The Black Vibe ™

Series masterlist: H E R E

The dreams he had while sleeping on the uncomfortable sofa were crazy; so crazy it made him wake up with a jolt as he opened up his eyes, breathing irregularly. First, he turned to the place where you should've been... Yet his shoulder was empty. It shouldn't have surprised Sirius that when he woke up, he was alone in there. It was hardly seven o'clock, yet you've been nowhere to be seen. Maybe you picked yourself up and went to sleep in your bed? He didn't know, really. The possibilities of what you could've been doing were pretty much terrifying to think of - the days of you sitting around were long gone. This time, you could've burnt his mother's portrait for real. Quickly, Black picked himself up on his feet to look around the house to see if you're fine. The hangover was killing him as he dragged himself upstairs - he drank way too much, much more than he should.

The feeling of seeing your room empty wasn't too comfortable. With worries, the man singlehandedly searched through every room in the house, feeling his heart dropping with each empty one. It was foolery to freak out because of such inconvenience, yet you've been Sirius' personal responsibility since the moment you've started to sit on the lonely sofa every evening of the passing weeks. Just when he was about to invade the dining room, the sounds and smell of a breakfast being prepared hit the tip of his nose. A long sight left him as he opened the door and when he stuck his head inside, he saw you walking around the room with dishes in your palms - the bacon was turning itself on the pan to get roasted from both sides, a wooden spoon was mixing the scrambled eggs and you've been already baking the rest of pumpkin pasties you hidden into the coldest place of the house. Kreacher was sitting at the table, yet he wasn't mumbling anything since his mouth was stuffed with food.

This became a daily occurrence in the Grimmauld's place 12 - Kreacher was taking food from you, stuffing it inside his mouth as if he wasn't to see normal food in another ten years. You've made Kreacher a cup of tea and some breakfast before your daily shouting and nerve-climbing competition had started. It was one of the conveniences Sirius liked to see, the morning dining room serenity. - "Good morning." - The man let out a low whisper as he sat on his chair in the front of the table. It freaked you out so much that you almost dropped Walburga's ancient tea set on the ground. Sirius was sitting there, dressed in the same clothes as yesterday, looking like a piece of hell - yet with a smug smile on his lips. - "Oi, hey there." - You mumbled with a stiffened expression and started to serve him the food.

"How did you sleep?" - Black asked innocently, tearing his bun into small pieces as he pushed some of it inside his mouth. - "Not that well, honestly. My neck hurts, I can barely bend over to clean something, so I might take a day off. It sucked shit." - Well, this was a blow of honesty that had cut down Sirius' ego into tiny slices. He was almost positive that it might've meant something. It wasn't every day that you'd ask a friend to hold you like that. It could mean that you started to move past Brian, it could mean a thousand other things, but it had to mean something... Right? Although from your attitude, it started to be clear that Black was reading bad into it.

You've been way more observant than before, which was also an occurrence - a one to which Black hadn't get used to just yet. - "Listen, I hope you didn't make anything out of... It." - At that moment, you've been awkwardly holding the edge of the countertop, speaking right into the cupboard hanging in front of your face. - "The whole plea was kind of crazy when I'm thinking about it. I drank a few glasses... I had no right... It's just too much and sometimes..." - "Then I didn't understand anything wrong. Don't worry about it." - Sirius assured you, snacking on the warm bacon.

Tonks joined you in the dining room shortly after. The girl looked awful; she drank way more than she should. It was Wednesday, so she had to go to work. Together, you and Sirius found her some painkillers hidden in one of the cupboards. In the end, you hadn't found any, but Tonks swore that the breakfast made a great difference. You said your goodbye when she left half an hour later, leaving for the Ministry. As you promised, you had taken a day off. And as time passed, you started to clean up the upper floors and... You stopped to cry in the tapestry room every evening. This meant another change in the house. The fragile friendship you and Sirius started to form had been cancelled once again.

Yet this time, the man swore he won't start drinking. At every dinner, he tried to talk to you, get to know you, but you've kept it in the borders of decency. It was this dismissive, mysterious approach to every conversation that made Sirius wanted to talk to you even more; the Azkaban escapee was growing very fond of you. Yet you've been talking to Kreacher more than you did to Black - even if you and Kreacher were hissing curses at each other, it still was a communication of sorts. It was desperate times, right? If the Hallowe'en night made you so averse, Sirius had to try something else. Kreacher's company couldn't be healthy for your psyché in the long-run perspective... And Sirius had one thing that could help you.

Normally, if you wouldn't be forced to live inside one house together, he would simply mind his business. Yet meeting you in the hallways just to greet you awkwardly while nodding his head, to have the super-awkward conversations at the dinner table was making Black restless. When he didn't have alcohol to make his mind occupied, he was always thinking about how to bring the Hallowe'en mood black. Until his gaze fell on the wand laid just inches away from him. Could he still do it? Should he do it? It could be worth it. The last time he performed the animagus transformation, it wasn't as appreciated as he hoped it would. The last time he had changed into a dog, Moody was giving him a week-lasting lecture about danger and dumbassery. Sirius was asked at least twenty times if he's 'barking mad'?

But he wouldn't be leaving Grimmauld's place this time, right? It was just to make you a bit more relaxed, to keep Kreacher away from you, and to improve the overall mood inside the house. With a frown upon his face, Sirius stepped to the table, picked the wand up, and tapped his temple. He didn't need a wand for any of this, it just felt better to pretend the wand was helping somehow. The excitement of turning into a dog made Sirius smile unconsciously as he felt that his body is turning into a huge, fluffy black dog. It wasn't to easiest to breathe with the tongue stuck out as he scratched behind his ear with one of his back paws.

You've been just going through the old, impressive library on the third floor. Kreacher came by here and then, spitting a few quick curses before he disappeared in another part of the house. Since you started to give him food, Kreacher had been much more timid - sure, he was still catching mice and ate bedbugs and other vermin he found around the house, yet the relationship improved greatly. Mostly, you've locked yourself in the room you've been cleaning and loaded garbage bags and paper boxes with the things you thought you won't need there anymore. Black was simply glad someone's giving the house the proper care it needed so much.

This time, you've left the door open since the library was full of thick layers of dust, full of spiders and as a bonus, you found a pixie hidden in a small hole in the wall. It took you thirty minutes until you paralyzed the damn devilish Cornwall pixie and closed it into one of the cages you've found around the house. It was still paralyzed, staring into oblivion as it floated around the huge golden construct. In the meantime, you've been going through books one by one. You've found a few first editions of books by Bathilda Bagshot and also a huge book about monsters bound in some type of draconic-like skin. It wasn't one of Newt Scamander's books and just from the few first pages, it was obvious that it was written by someone who was into dark magic. You've put it back into its place as you heard growling from the door.

As you suspected, Kreacher was trying to go through the boxes and tried to save as many books as he could without letting out a single sound - but now, his big blue eyes were watching something behind him as his hand sprang out of the box. The house-elf cried out, running away within a matter of seconds. Once more, you picked your wand up and walked to the ajar door, prepared to jinx anything that was hiding there. The blood in your veins froze at the something started to scratch the door with its claws. With a short inhale, you pushed the door open and expected anything looking back at you... But it was... Just a dog.

It was a huge black dog that was without a doubt reaching your waist. It was obediently sitting at the doorstep with its tongue stuck out as if it was smiling at you. How could a big, black dog simply manifest inside the house? For the last two and a half months, you've been living in those walls, you hadn't met it - not even once. And suddenly, it was there, staring at you happily. Realizing what did that mean, you ran around it and hurried up downstairs to the main door to see if it was closed. It was closed, even locked. Why were you still surprised about finding a live creature inside the house? You've caught a pixie that very noon, dealt with a boggart a few days back, and even watched two wall gnomes having a wedding ceremony with their whole family. A huge black dog shouldn't be such a surprise, huh?

With a furrow, you stepped to it sitting at the heel of stairs, kneeled to it, and scratched it behind its ear. - "How did you get here, doggo?" - You wondered as if the animal should answer you. When it was just happily sitting there as another minute passed by, you decided to ask Sirius about the dog. As you started to make your way through the house, the animal didn't wait too long around and followed you closely. - "I don't know what to do with you. Maybe Sirius will..." - Yet just as the strange dog apparated, the man seemed to get lost. He was nowhere to be found - his bedroom was empty, Buckbeak's attic was empty, the tapestry room didn't have anyone in it and the same went for the dining room. In the end, you looked at the huge dog which still didn't leave. As before, it was sitting there, happily sticking its tongue and watched you. - "Well... I'll chat with him once he would feel like coming out of his dark hole. Are you thirsty?" - You wondered. As the dog barked and started to make his way to the dining room, you took it as a yes. It was smashing its muzzle into the door as it tried to open it.

In the end, you took the bowl with the water back to the library so you could continue the work. The dog laid to the corner, put its huge head on its front paws and watched you going through the hoards of books. Each time Kreacher was trying to sneak into the room, the dog picked itself up with a sinister growling and walked to the house-elf, which was mortified to death by the animal. As long as the dog stuck around you, the house-elf refused to come close, which made you like the animal. The whole time, you hoped that Sirius will come by, so you could ask him about the dog - but you've seen him only around dinner time as he walked into the dining room. As usual, he was looking elegant and on the verge of a mental breakdown, yet with a huge smile on his face. - "Where have you been the whole day?" - You asked him as soon as he opened up the door. Quickly, you glanced out of the room, searching for the dog so you could show it to Sirius. Sadly, the hallway was empty.

The bowl of water was still laid next to the stove, but the animal itself was nowhere to be seen. Were you delusional? Was the dog even there? And where did it disappear? - "I've been here, as every minute of every hour of every day. Did something happen?" - Sirius asked as innocently as he was capable of. Swiftly, he walked around you and helped you with preparing the desk. - "There was this huge black dog with me the whole day. He refused to leave me alone." - You looked at Sirius and mixed the food with a wooden spoon. Black looked back at you, holding the plates. His expression seemed to be curious and amused. Without words, the man dared you to speak of the matter. - "I think this is the day I had finally lost it." - At this suspicion, Black grinned and shook his head, turning his attention to the dishes.

"Trust me, you hadn't lost it. I know about the dog staying in the walls of this house, coming out from time to time, yet it's a rare coincidence to meet it. I think you had the luck with you today." - The man sat down on his chair, helping you with carrying the finished food to the table. - "Had you met it?" - You asked curiously, sitting down to the table as Sirius started to pour the source. - "Oh, a few times. It's a big black dog, isn't it? It's a nice one, trust me, it won't hurt you. Its name is Padfoot in case you've been wondering." - The man told you, sitting down on his chair.

As you expected, the dog had manifested itself around the incoming mornings for the following few days. This time, the dog wasn't just laying around the room and kept Kreacher away, it was helping you with going through the books and other rooms. If it didn't like the book you've been holding, it started to bite its cover, tearing some of the pages off. The other morning, as you moved to the second part of the library, you've discovered a big, old gramophone. Yet even if you tried to find some pieces of vinyl, there were none. Which made you also think of the piano in the tapestry room. - "Sirius told me you know your way around, Padfoot." - At the sound of its name, the dog jumped on its paws and brushed your leg with its back so you'd know its listening. As it was the only company you had inside the house, you grew very fond of the pet. You've been always scrambling him some parts of the cooked food as you assured it won't hurt it, you started to pet it and sometimes, it laid next to you and tugged itself closer to your side, nuzzling you and making you warmer as the temperature in the house was dropping. - "Do you know if there are some pieces of vinyl inside the house? Anywhere?"

To your surprise, the dog barked loudly and left the room. Padfoot almost disappeared upstairs before it realized you're not following. Once more, it ran into the second library, brushed your leg, and barked. This time, you followed the animal. Before you could stop it, it invaded Sirius' room and made its way to one of the cabinets. As Padfoot started to scratch on the door, you realized it wants you to look in. - "I can't do that, Padfoot. This room's not mine, you know?" - A whisper left your lips as you looked over your shoulder as if you expected Black to come into the room.

Padfoot managed to ignore you pretty well. It started to scratch the expansive wood again so to stop it, you opened it. The dog finally seemed to be contained as it stuck the head inside and gripped something with its teeth. - "Shush away, I'll pull it out. Go check the door and bark if you see him coming." - As you said, so the dog did; but not before it managed to lick your cheek. At that, you giggled and with interest, you pulled out a big paper box full of vinyl desks. This was truly unbelievable as you went through it, looking at some of the muggle classics.

Really, you boggled when Padfoot started to growl loudly. Your palms dropped the pieces of vinyl and shot your gaze to the door. Padfoot was growling at Kreacher, who was walking to the railing until the house-elf bumped into it with his back. - "The filth is snooping through Kreacher's Master's room and Kreacher is going to tell him! Look at her dragging the bag of fleas along! Oh, the shame, the treason of the blood, what would my poor Mistress' say?" - After hearing Kreacher's mumbling, it was evident that Padfoot was ready to bite the house-elf's head off. It was in the last moment as you pulled the dog back inside the room and hissed at Kreacher to get lost. With one last gaze at Padfoot, the house-elf walked away slowly.

"This one isn't a toy you can chew on, Padfoot." - You stated quietly, going through the dog's fur with your fingers. With a sigh, you've hugged it and leaned your head into its neck, letting out a short breath. It felt relieving to feel the warmth of something else. It didn't matter that the something is an oversized dog, it made you feel better as Padfoot nuzzled back. - "Kreacher is Sirius' house-elf... But you sure do know that you good boy, huh? Don't let the old fool get the better of you. Let's go play some music, how does that sound?"

Sirius' vinyl collection was quite impressive, you had to say. About most of the muggle interprets and albums you had no idea what it can be about, yet Padfoot was sure to show you his favourite one. With a furrow, you've been showing him the covers. Two barks meant yes and one meant no, which you learned as Padfoot tugged on the sleeve of your sweater with his teeth. - "Mary J. Blige? Are you sure that it's the one you want me to play?" - You asked, not knowing any of these songs. As the animal happily ran around the room, you took it as another direct yes. As the track played, it seemed that the dog isn't that bad of a DJ. It was far different than the music you grew up listening to, mainly because there were no mentions of magic, but it had a groovy vibe. For a while, it seemed that the dog is wiggling its tail in the melody of the song and it was walking around you in circles, nudging your shoulder with its head. With an impressed face, you looked at it. - "Do you want me to dance?" - A mesmerizing whisper left your lips. Another loud, agreeing bark filled the room.

It was crazy to dance around with a dog, but you've had to say that you laughed all the way through it. When the dance-off was over, you sat on the floor and listened to the tunes while you went through the books. The whole time, Padfoot was making tricks and other things to keep you in the good mood - and it lasted, which could be seen when Sirius met you in the dining room. With your face on fire, you admitted to stealing the vinyl desks out of his room, at which he laughed carelessly. - "As long as you're here, listen to whatever you'll find as long as it pleases you. Do you like muggle music?" - He wondered instead of being mad about you sneaking into his room while being led by a strange, overgrown dog.

The next morning, Padfoot woke you up inhumanely soon. It was time to feed and socialize with Buckbeak and... Well... Since Sirius wasn't available in his human form at the moment, it was your time to meet the hippogriff. With unpleasant grunts, you went through your morning routine. Yet the dog seemed to be restless that morning. His head nudged various parts of your body to make you faster. - "What's the matter with you today, mate? Okay! Okay, I'm coming, I'm coming." - With final protests, you finally picked yourself up and followed Padfoot around the house, walking to the upper floors.

Somewhere in the middle, you've bumped into Kreacher. You've seen him scurry to eat something, Sirius was nowhere to be seen as usual, and then the house-elf disappeared. Now, you knew where to. He pushed his head under the curtain of Mrs Black's portrait and while all you could hear were her silent shrieks, he was calmly whispering her some things. The dog didn't seem to be interested in that in the slightest - it led you upstairs, barely stopping at the floors until you've bumped into the attic door. And as the dog happily sat there with its tongue stuck out, you realized what it wanted you to do.

It wanted you to face Buckbeak, the hippogriff.

[porkchop-ao3]

A Thrill I’ve Never Known (Chapter 42)

Banking, The Old American Art

Here it is, folks. The bank job.

(All chapters tagged with #ATINK and also posted on Ao3, username PorkChop)

-

The last time I saw Arthur at Shady Belle was right before they all left for the bank. He was dressed smartly in a white shirt and a nice jacket, a little pomade in his hair that made him look like some sort of prince charming; it was as if he was going to a special occasion. They all looked that way, the gang members going on the job, dressed in their Sunday best. Dutch, Hosea, John, Charles, Javier, Bill and Micah. Abigail too, she was helping out.

Arthur and I were pressed around the side of a wagon, the one occupied by Abigail and Hosea, readying to set off while everyone else got ready too, going over the final details of the plan, mounting up. Jet was nearby but Arthur was saying his goodbyes to me where no one could see us. He had my face cradled in his hands, his lips greedy against mine, full of fervid passion as I gripped the lapels of his jacket. He broke the kiss, pressed our foreheads together and stared into my eyes so close. 

Neither of us had to say anything, it all went unspoken. I begged him with my eyes to be safe and he told me to be ready with his own. 

Oh, I was ready. I had my suitcase packed and stored up in Arthur's room where he was all packed up too. We were ready to go, in theory, though the whole time I was fraught with a feeling of disbelief, or not necessarily disbelief, but oddly settled. Like it hadn't sunk in that I was going anywhere, and I didn't really think we would be. Perhaps because it seemed a little too good to be true, just running off into the sunset with Arthur, and I couldn't wrap my head around it. 

My gut feeling, it turned out, wasn't all for nothing. 

Abigail returned to camp first, riding in on a horse that wasn't one of ours, not stopping and dismounting, riding straight into the main camp where the rest of us were near the fire. 

"They got Hosea! I managed to get away but they took Hosea, arrested him or something, I don't know!" Her eyes were wide and she looked a dishevelled, terrified husk of the woman she'd left as that morning.

Abigail and Hosea were running the distraction part of the plan, creating some sort of diversion to attract the law away from the bank. It seemed their plan worked a little too well. At that point none of us knew how the others had gotten on, but Abigail told us about the swarms of lawmen that had responded; an unnatural amount, and any confidence I had that things could still go to plan dwindled. I pushed the doubt from my mind, I could not think about what could go wrong. 

The gang didn't seem to know what to do right away. It was like everyone was aching to turn to Dutch, who of course was not there. 

"Perhaps we should start packing," I spoke up while everyone was huddled together around Abigail, questioning, worrying, agonising. "If it's gone bad, I'm guessing when they get back they'll want to move right away."

"She's right. We might as well do something," Sadie agreed. Miss Grimshaw, who was surprisingly quiet, nodded. 

"Alright. Come on, everyone, you know the drill," she called out, and everyone got moving.

Arthur and I's things were already packed, so it was just a case of carrying it all downstairs and loading it up on a wagon. His satchel was still sitting on his bed where he'd left it that morning, his journal tucked away inside. I kept it aside for him, not wanting it to get lost or damaged on the wagon, and just loaded up the rest of his things. Lenny – who was now up on his feet again, though using a stick to help him walk – commented on how fast I'd packed. I just told him I'd had a lot of practice, and moved on to Pearson's wagon, packing up all our food. 

We had the camp packed up by evening time, and we all sat around the campfire and waited. Darkness had fallen and people were beginning to wonder if anyone was even going to come back; I assured them they were probably taking their time, not wanting to lead anyone back. Some believed me, others didn't. I wasn't even sure which side I was on.

Then Charles turned up. He rode in, looking exhausted and nothing like his usual calm, level-headed self.

"Charles!" Everyone exclaimed, getting up and rushing over to the man, offering him some of the venison we'd cooked over the fire for dinner. Charles shook his head, glancing between everyone there. It was like he didn't know who to address; who was in charge when Dutch and Hosea weren't around?

His eyes settled on Miss Grimshaw. "We need to get moving. That was a disaster, there are patrols all over the place. The others were going to try and get out of the city by boat, I'm here 'cause I diverted some of the Pinkertons so they could get away. Thought someone should come back and let you all know."

"By boat? What boat?" I questioned, thoughts going to Tahiti and Dutch's plan. 

"Whatever they could get, I don't know. The city is crawling, we hid in a building until nightfall, wanted to come back, but there was no way all of us were going to make it. We didn't have many options, I don't know what they're planning on doing next."

"Oh my God," Abigail breathed. Charles looked at her, his face shifting uncomfortably. My stomach dropped. 

"The Pinkertons captured John. Arrested him at the bank, I've never seen so many lawmen, it was unbelievable," he explained, and Abigail covered her mouth, no sound escaping her. "Miss Grimshaw, may I speak with you privately? There's something I– I don't know how to say it." He added.

"Of course," the lady in question nodded, her face a picture of shock and uncertainty. "Everyone, start thinking of where we could go. We can't stay here with these patrols."

The two of them walked away, went inside the house. I wondered what he was telling her that he couldn't just say in front of everyone. Whatever it was, it was unlikely to be good news. 

Nausea hit strong and sudden, and I swallowed the saliva that began to gather in my mouth, forced myself to ignore it and focus on the task at hand. "Right, so… any ideas? Do you think it would be possible to head back West? Maybe North-West?"

"Back where we came from? I don't know. Dutch doesn't usually like retracing his steps," Pearson said, sitting down on a log and raking his hands through his hair.

"Up north, then. Roanoke?" Karen suggested. 

"Would you really wanna go up there?" Tilly cocked a brow at her. 

"No, but maybe that's the point. We go some place even the law won't come looking," Karen countered, taking a swig from the bottle of beer she'd been nursing all evening. 

"There's a small settlement in the bayou," Strauss began thoughtfully, "rather unsavoury fellows living up there. But I'd wager they wouldn't look for us. Not right away, at least, perhaps it would give us a few days."

"Ain't too too far, we don't wanna be travelling for miles right now, the whole lot of us," Sadie noted, nodding her head slowly and considerately.

"It will need clearing out for certain, the place is called Lakay,” Strauss added. 

"I know it, ain't far from where I grew up," I said, eyes all turned to me. "You're right, nobody dared go there; we'd be pretty safe if we can take over."

Charles and a despondent looking Susan reemerged from the house and headed back towards us. 

"Seems like our best bet. We don't need anywhere too permanent, just somewhere to go while the dust settles and we figure out what's going on," Sadie said, turning to face Charles. "Charles, you got it in you to help me clear out a new camp, up at Lakay?"

"Of course," he nodded. Sadie then looked at me. 

"You know where this place is?" She asked, and I nodded. "Will you show us the way?"

"Uh, sure," I said hesitantly, and Charles looked at Sadie with a slightly cocked brow. 

"Hey, don't worry. I ain't gonna make you shoot nobody," she smirked, patting me on the arm. I released a relieved breath, somewhat of a laugh. "You can just hang back, warn us if anyone else turns up."

"Okay, that I can do," I nodded. 

"We'll ride ahead, deal with whoever's there," she addressed the rest of the group, "everyone else, finish off clearing this place. We'll come back, ride up with you all soon," Sadie said, then clapped Charles and I on the shoulder and started towards the horses. 

"Stay vigilant. There will be patrols, make sure nobody comes near the camp before we can all leave," Charles warned. I nodded in agreement. 

"Be careful," I called to them as we left. 

The three of us mounted up, and I took the lead as we trotted out of camp, soon speeding into a gallop.

"There's some strange people in the swamps," I called over my shoulder, "you two ought to be careful. We all do, once we're set up. We're bound to run into the night folk."

"Night folk?" Sadie asked, raspy tone sharpened with confusion. 

"That's what they call them. They are brutal. I saw things hanging in the trees that no kid ever should, growing up. They'll kill you if you give them the chance, and it won't be over quick," I explained. 

"And you think this is a good place to camp?" Charles addressed both of us incredulously. 

"They wouldn't bother with a huge group like us. We just need to make sure nobody wanders too far alone," I told him. 

"If you say so."

"I do. My family lived here, we survived, and we weren't a gang of heavily armed outlaws. We'll be okay," I glanced back, giving him a small smile. 

We rode into the bayou, fog coming in thick and opaque, the soggy air clinging. Beads of sweat and moisture from the air rolled down my spine, making me shiver, tickling like fingers but not in that nice way that Arthur's did… like unwelcome, cold fingers. I could swear the swamps were haunted, growing up. Still could as an adult. 

"Uh, listen, you two. I should tell you," Charles began, his voice low and careful. "I told Miss Grimshaw before, she said she'd tell the others, I couldn't quite bring myself to say it in front of everyone. I'm not… I'm not good with these things."

"What's wrong?" I asked, slowing a little, falling into step beside him, so the three of us were travelling abreast. 

"We… we lost Hosea," he told us softly, his face solemn, mouth turned down.

"What?" I gasped, saw Sadie's face shift into shock, "Abigail told us the law captured him."

"Yeah, they had him. But they– he–" Charles seemed to be struggling, clearly pained by having to deliver the news, "I'm sorry, there wasn't anything any of us could do, they overpowered us completely."

"Oh God," I breathed, my heart shattering. Not for my loss, but for Arthur's. I couldn't bear to think about how he must be feeling; Hosea meant a lot to him, and Hosea cared for Arthur like a son, far more than Dutch seemed to. 

"What an awful disaster that bank turned out to be," Sadie lamented, "though I'm starting to notice a pattern. Nothing seems to be going well lately."

"Right. We've made too much noise, angered too many people. I don't know about you two, but I'm starting to feel restless. I just can't relax anymore, even at camp. Especially not while the O'Driscolls keep showing up," Charles said, and I felt him looking at me. I kept my eyes on the road, silent. 

"We need to get far away, buy us some real time. But now ain't a good time, obviously, we gotta stick around for Arthur and the others," Sadie said, and my ears pricked up at his name. 

I noted how she'd said Arthur and the others, rather than the standard Dutch and the others. Did she not see Dutch as the invincible leader that most of the others did?

"How're you holding up, honey?" She asked, and I looked up to confirm she was talking to me in that soft, careful tone. "You've gone quiet."

Both sets of eyes were on me, and mine bounced back and forth between them as my mouth hung open wordlessly for a few moments. "I'm fine," I finally said, "we're almost there."

We rode the rest of the way in silence, listening to the mushy thumping of three sets of hooves on the compacted, damp Earth. I slowed further as we came up the road leading into Lakay, veering off to the side of the path. 

"It's just up this road. Don't, uh, mind the skulls on sticks over there," I gave an anxious laugh, and Sadie gave me a mild smile of amusement. "I'd go on foot from here, but please be careful."

The two of them dismounted, leading their horses to the side of the path, retrieving their guns from their saddles. Charles glanced up at me over his horse's back. 

"Get your gun out, stay armed and look after yourself," he told me and I nodded, retrieving the rifle from my saddle, readying it as I watched them turn and disappear up the path. 

There were a few moments of silence where I was left alone and in peace with my thoughts. Honestly, it was a few moments I could've done without, as it forced me to think of Arthur and the others. I hadn't really had time to feel since Charles had returned and explained the situation; but my feelings hit strong once I was free to think. In my stomach grew a sharp, thistly weed of dread; stabbing and cutting deep inside me. He'd gotten on a boat to God knows where. Even if he got to wherever he was going without the law realising, how would he ever get back? Could he, even?

Part of me wished I was ballsy enough to be of use in something like a bank robbery, just so that I could've gone with them, just so I could know where he was, whether he was okay. Instead I was left behind; clueless and damn near useless, tagging along with the others and quickly beginning to worry that I was not cut out for life in this gang without Arthur in it too. 

Gunfire began. I gripped my rifle tighter and slid down off of Rayna, staring intently up the road to the settlement. I could see Sadie and Charles in cover behind dilapidated wooden structures, being shot at by far more people than was a fair match for the two of them. And I was just stood there watching.

What in God's name am I doing here?

I gnawed on my lip, ambled over to the cover of the trees nearby, getting behind the thickest with a good vantage point into Lakay, narrowing my eyes in a bid to better focus on what was happening. I saw bodies drop, Sadie and Charles working together to clear the place out despite such a vicious attack from the mean looking bunch living there. 

I thought I was going crazy when I saw someone behind Sadie, and raised my weapon to get a better look through the scope still fitted from the time I'd gone hunting with Arthur and Charles. I wasn't crazy. There was a guy crouched close to her, coming from behind where she couldn't see, knife poised. I went cold.

For a moment I waited for her to notice, secretly hoping she would, finding it so difficult to pull the trigger despite the circumstances. Did that make me a bad person? Hesitating to kill a person– a threat to the life of my friend? Or would killing make me a bad person, regardless of the reason? 

I didn't have time to answer these questions, the knife was drawn back, ready to be thrown, and I didn't think, I just fired. He dropped instantly, just like a deer or those bears. Gone. Sadie spun at the sound, eyes landing on the body before flickering up in my general direction, but she couldn't lose focus and was soon returning her attention to the people shooting at her. 

My heart was hammering, but I shifted my sights, seeking out dangers that Charles and Sadie might not be seeing. I hoped to God they would have it under control, I was far from accustomed to shooting people, even if those people were armed and shooting at those I cared about. It left me with a hollow feeling inside me, the kind of feeling that made me understand why Arthur was so desperate to stop me from having to do this. 

I soon realised that where the enemies had the advantage in numbers, Sadie and Charles had the element of surprise on their side; they were picking them off one by one, made it look easy. If they weren't my friends, I'd have been terrified of them. 

It was over quickly. In the end I didn't need to lend my assistance any further than that one guy, every time I sought someone out, thinking they might be a threat, they dropped in my sight from a bullet I didn't fire. They had it covered, and were soon out in the open, darting in and out of the buildings that made up the settlement, checking for hideouts. When they were satisfied the place was clear, Sadie started heading back towards me. 

She sent Charles' horse over to him with a pat on the flank, then addressed me with an intrigued look. 

"You saved my skin just then, didn't you?" 

"He was sneaking up, I just noticed him," I murmured as she mounted up. 

"Thanks, glad we brought you along," she smiled, "come on, mount up. Charles is gonna, uh, tidy up. I said we'd go get the others and bring 'em down."

"Sure," I said through a grunt as I lifted myself back up onto Rayna. She was a little antsy after all of the gunfire, but she was easily soothed with a few strokes of her mane. We started heading back the way we came, and it was the first time Sadie and I had ever really spoken one on one. 

"You're struggling there, ain't you?" She asked me after a few minutes of riding in silence, during which I felt her gaze flicking to me every now and then. I didn't meet her eyes. 

"It's a lot to take in," I simply responded. 

"It is. I ain't been here much longer than you. Just a couple weeks more," she pointed out, "I can't say I've made too many friends. Abigail, of course, and I get along with Arthur and John. But you; you get along with Arthur a helluva lot," she gave a little snort. 

"Yeah we're pretty close," I said drily, grossly understating it to Sadie's sympathetic smile. 

"I'm sorry, sweetie. I bet you're worried."

"I don't know whether I should be. I know he does this for a living, I've worried time and time again when he's been out working and he's always come back. I'm torn between telling myself he'll come back this time, just like usual, and preparing myself for him not coming back," my words tumbled out emotionlessly and I stared ahead at the path. 

Sadie was quiet for some time, and when she spoke, her words were carefully selected. "When we get back to camp, we'll write a note. Something inconspicuous, so it ain't a disaster if the Pinkertons find it. But something that'll let Arthur and the others know where we are should they go back to the house."

If they go back would've been too ambiguous, too pessimistic. When they go back would've been setting hopes too high, risking a crushing disappointment if it never happened. Should they go back was a nice middle ground. To the house, well, that balanced things out even more, it suggested they could come back and not necessarily return to the house, like they had freedom to choose. Though it also didn't say for sure they'd return at all. It was a perfectly balanced sentence, one I could only nod my head to. 

When we arrived back at Shady Belle, everyone was packed up and ready to go. We made one final sweep of the house and I collected Arthur's satchel from where I'd left it to keep it safe, then we stood around the table as Sadie wrote the letter to Tacitus Kilgore, explaining that his niece, Caroline, had gone off to Lakay for a short trip.

With that done, and everyone feeling deflated and, frankly, scared, we all loaded up on our wagons and horses and rode to our new home.

[azaraspirit]

Transfusion: CH4

sorry it took so long guys but its finally here!

tagging: @thatweirdomimic @blissfulparker @angelic-holland @madmadmilk @peteparkrrs @peterplanet @delicatetom @foreverstuckwritingandimagining @worldoftom @fanboy-tom @farfromhaz @angelhaz11 @osterfield-holland-andcompany @heyhihellowhatsup0

warnings: a bit of angst but mostly fluff, an awkward encounter with y/n’s mom

word count: just under 2k

You whimpered in your sleep, feeling nothing but pain and guilt. Where was this coming from? You never experienced anything like this before. It wasn’t physical pain but emotional that weighed a ton. The car crash repeated itself in your head over and over like a movie on loop. You wanted to cry, You wanted to scream. But all you could do was watch as the car slammed into you, throwing your body on the ground.

It was a nightmare on repeat and you couldn’t escape. But where was this coming from? You haven’t thought of the accident much since it happened.

You jolted up from your bed in a cold sweat. Your chest heaved, your pupils dilated. What the fuck just happened? You threw your blanket off and went to the bathroom to splash water on your face. It wasn’t enough so you decided to shower due to the sweat. After slipping a robe on you went over to your closet to change the sheets. Sleep wasn’t gonna happen any time soon so you decided to do a load of laundry and went to the laundry area where you saw someone you least expected.

“P-Peter? What are you doing here?”

He whirled around, just wearing his sleep pants. He was holding sheets too. “Y/n?”

“Yeah. It’s me.”

“I uh...couldn’t sleep…”

“So you decided to do laundry at midnight?” you chuckled.

“Yeah well…” he didn’t finish.

“Peter…did you have a nightmare?” It dawned on you just in that moment.

Peter couldn’t look at you. He was embarrassed.

“You woke up in a sweat?” You approached him slowly like he was a wounded animal. You gently rested a hand on his arm.

“I did too.”

Peter looked at you, his eyes a bit red and full of fear. “Y-you did?”

You nodded. “About the wreck…”

He wiped his nose with his hand, sniffing. “H-how did you know?”

You shrugged. “I have no idea...I had it too…”

Peter embraced you and you wrapped your arms around him, feeling his bare chest on you. “You’re saying we had the same dream?”

“Sounds crazy but...yeah.” you admitted.

“How is that even possible?” Peter asked in aw.

“I have no idea…”

“I don’t know if I can go back to sleep.” he whimpered.

“Me neither...but we gotta try...maybe we can try together?”

He nodded.

“Come on. Let’s get some new sheets and you can sleep in my room.”

You weren’t sure but you swore Peter blushed just as you did, your heart racing. “Um, okay.” he said.

You giggled as you grabbed some new sheets. You both finished your loads, and headed back to your room, Peter’s hand in yours. His racing heart was nearly in sync with yours. You never had a boy in your room before, let alone a cute boy you had a crush on.

“Here, let me help.” Peter said as you started to make your bed.

You blushed, letting him do so.

“I can uh, sleep on the floor.” he blushed.

“Nonsense. That would be rude. We can share the bed.”

“Oh okay.” He was definitely blushing now. But to be fair so were you.

“Just uh don’t tell my dad. He might kill you.” you chuckled.

“Right.” Peter said, now a bit nervous.

“Peter, it’s okay. We’re friends.”

“Yeah. Friends.”

Once you made your bed, you slipped off your robe, revealing your cute pajamas that made Peter blush. You smiled, seeing it before he looked away. “Come on, Petey.”

You crawled in bed first, Peter a bit hesitant but he eventually followed.

You both faced each other in ward, inches apart. “Sorry, my bed is kinda small.” you said.

“It’s okay. So is mine.”

“How are you feeling? Ya know since the surgery?” you asked him.

“Okay. Kinda weak for the first day or two but I’m better now. You?”

“Same. I can’t thank you enough, Peter. You saved my life.”

“It’s also my fault you got hurt…” he frowned.

“No. Don’t do that Peter. It wasn’t your fault. It was an accident.”

“It was my idea to go out in the first place…”

“Peter, look at me-” You cupped his cheek with your hand, feeling the heat rise to his cheeks. “I’m fine. We’re okay. You did nothing wrong. We had no idea what was gonna happen, okay, Peter? Now please, stop blaming yourself.”

He took a deep breath and exhaled. “You’re right. I just...really care about you y/n…”

You blushed. “I care about you too, Peter.”

You started to pull away but he pouted. “No I like your hand there.”

You giggled and put it back, this time on his neck, stroking his cheek.

“You can scoot closer if you want.” Peter said.

“I don’t see how. We’re close as it is.” you giggled.

Peter laughed. “Right. Sorry.”

You smiled, a blushing mess. “Hopefully those nightmares won’t be coming back.”

“Me too.” This time, Peter cupped your face. You found yourself wanting to lean in and kiss him but you resisted. Why was he so cute?

“We should get some sleep.” Peter said in a tired voice.

“Yeah.”

“Good night, y/n.”

“Good night, Peter.”

You woke up to the sound of someone clearing their throat. You rolled over and your eyes fluttered open seeing your mother leaning on the door frame with the biggest smirk on your face. “Morning, sunshine. Sleep well?”

Your eyes widened, realizing that Peter was still in bed with you, Without a shirt.

“Uh, hi, Mom.”

“Hi, y/n. Peter.”

“What?” He sat up, his hair messy like a bird’s nest. He froze, realizing the situation. “Oh. Uh. Hi Mrs. Romanoff.”

Your mother chuckled. “Breakfast is ready if you’re hungry.” She walked off and you stumbled out of bed, grabbing your robe.

“Mom, wait!”

You rushed after her, stopping her. “It’s not what it looks like.” you panted.

“Oh? You mean Peter didn’t sleep over night?”

“Well okay, he did. But we didn’t have sex or anything. I swear!”

Nat chuckled. “Y/n, I’m not mad. If anything I’m disappointed. I was hoping for a juicy story.”

“Oh my god, Mom! That’s gross!” you whined, covering your ears.

She laughed. “Y/n, I’m just messing with you. I won’t tell anyone, I promise. I know you two haven’t done anything.”

You grumbled. “You’re the worst.”

Peter cleared his throat, stepping with his messy hair. “Uh, hi. I was uh, just heading out.”

Nat chuckled. “Nice to see you, Peter.”

He nodded awkwardly. You could tell he badly wanted to cover himself up. “See you later, Y/n.”

You nodded as he rushed off, tripping, making you both laugh.

“But you are gonna tell me everything that happened.” your mother said.

You groaned. “Moooooom!”

You went to the kitchen to get breakfast.

“Hey, y/n, how ya feeling?” Sam asked you with his bowl of cereal.

“Pretty good actually. The blood transfusion really helped. I feel like a new me.”

Sam smiled. “That’s good to hear. I don’t know what we would have done if we lost you.”

“Please.” you scoffed. “You can’t get rid of me that easily. I am a Romanoff after all.”

Your father cleared your throat. “And a Banner.” you chuckled.

“Thought so.” he smiled. He went over to kiss your mother and your forehead. “Tell me Tony didn’t cook.”

“Very funny.” Tony said, following suit with Peter.

“Steve cooked.” Sam said.

“So why you having cereal?” Tony questioned.

“Shut up.” he mumbled. “Leave me and my mini wheats out of this.”

You chuckled, rolling your eyes, glancing at Peter. Gosh he was cute wearing a nerdy graphic tee and jeans that fit him just right. His hair was freshly combed and you caught a whiff of cologne you knew was his.

“Hey, Peter.” you greeted.

“Hey, y/n.”

You could feel your mother’s smirk, not even having to look to know it was there. God she really wanted you to be with Peter.

“Did I miss something?” Tony asked, looking between you and Peter.

“No!” you and Peter shouted at the same time.

Sam chuckled but said nothing.

“Nothing happened, they’re just teenagers, you know how they are.” your mother assured.

Oh thank god.”

“Okaaaay,” Tony sang. “Pretending to ignore this awkward moment, where are those famous

spangled scrambled eggs? I’m starving!”

*

You remembered your sheets from last night and went to go finish the load, thinking you would have to start over. But when you went back to the laundry room after breakfast, the machines were empty and the sheets already folded.

“Huh?” you asked, confused. But then you smiled, realizing that it was Peter.

You went back to your room, wanting alone time to think. Things between you and Peter hasn’t been the same since the surgery, let alone the accident. You two seem closer, like your bond became stronger. But that’s crazy right? You couldn’t stop thinking about last night. You both seemed to have the same dream at the same time...how is that even possible? Like your minds were linked somehow?

You groaned, wishing you could shut off your brain. You hated being so smart sometimes and having so many questions. Being curious was your downfall and whenever you have a question, it had to be answered. You glanced at your bed, blushing, recalling last night. It felt good sleeping with Peter. Warm and at peace. You wanted to do it again.

Ugh, you couldn’t think straight. You decided you needed a distraction. You slipped into your workout clothes(leggings and a sports bra) and headed to the training room. It’s your first work out since the surgery. Surely your father would say no but what he didn’t know won’t hurt him.

You made your way to the training room and the only one who was there was Steve.

“Hey, Loser.” you greeted.

Your friend looked over from the sandbag that hung from the ceiling. “Sorry, you’re the loser, not me.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, okay, I’ll let you believe that.”

Steve chuckled. “Your father know your here?”

“No. Why does it matter?” you asked.

“You know why,” he chuckled.

You rolled your eyes again. “I’ll be fine, Steve. Besides, I feel really good and haven’t worked out since transfusion. I need to blow off some steam.”

“Alright, fine. But if something happens, you can’t blame me.”

“Fine. Hold the bag?” you asked as you him.

Steve nodded, his taped hands holding the bag steady.

“What a gentleman.” you mocked, making him roll his eyes this time.

You got into position with your gloved hands, determined to impress Steve. He was one of the Avengers you admired and looked up to the most.

You took a deep breath and exhaled before taking your first punch.

“Good. Again.” Steven said.

You punched again. And again, and again, soon finding a rhythm. Sweat soon started to bead down as you picked up speed. You took a step back and swung your leg, kicking the sand bag. Steve grunted, surprised but kept holding the bag.

You grunts got louder as you punched repeatedly. Something grew inside of you, only wanting to punch harder, faster, stronger. You couldn’t even hear Steve’s protests to stop.

You shouted as you kicked the back again, this time, the chain snapped and fell on top of Steven’s chest who fell on his back.

He stared at you as you breathed heavily. “What?” you asked.

“Your eyes…” he said. “They’re green.”

[imascreamerbabymakemeamute]

I’m Sorry

Dean and Sam don’t understand the constant apologies from Reader, their sister, as she spirals with depression. The characters are really out of character, but it helps the story move the way I wanted it too, sorry.

TW: Suicide, Depression, minor language

Tags: @annie-marie94 If anybody else wants tagged in whatever little Supernatural things I write, hit me up with an ask. I’m new to this, but I will learn!

“I’m sorry,” you blurted, hurriedly picking up the piles of paper strewn across the floor of one of the lesser used aisles. Sam towered over you leaning into the row to grab a book off the top shelf, and you scramble to at least get your papers picked up from that area so he can stand.

“Don’t worry about it, I can reach it,” he said and walked off as quickly as he had appeared; but you continued to pick up your mess, keeping it cleaned up better now that your space had been invaded. Sam never returned with the book to return it though.

~~~

Being left in the bunker alone while the boys were on a hunt was never easy, it set you on edge. Not knowing if they would come home; if they did, what state would they be in? This worried you, and the only thing you could do was take your mind off it.

Cleaning helped set you straight, it kept your mind off the fact that they were ignoring you - probably for a better hunter -  and the place could use a good once over every few weeks anyway.

After polishing the kitchen until every stainless steel surface glimmered in the fake lights, you set off for the bathrooms. The porcelain of every toilet, shower, and bathtub shone a watery reflection of your face before you deemed it perfect. You went through and dusted all the old Men of Letters trophies hanging on the walls, and straightened the books that were still on the shelves, leaving spaces for the books that Sam and Dean has splattered all over the library and war room tables. Not counting the neat stack on the corner of the table that you brought from the kitchen and bathrooms. You shuddered at what their rooms looked like.

A thought hit you, I can finally wash their sheets again. You left the tables full of books alone for a while longer, though it was a nagging thought of the mess you left behind. You tidy the rooms as you go, washing anything that looks or smells suspicious, especially the sheets. Flannels got hung up in the closets, everything was washed, dried, folded, and put away. Sheets followed suit, and fresh ones were put on the beds, even the ones that haven’t seen a body of any kind in them since the bunker was discovered.

Every time you walked by the tables a little voice called to you that you needed to put those books away. You shook it out, you needed to have them out in case they needed you to look things up again, it happened once, and you had put the books away. You almost lost them that night.

Shaking your head a little harder you sat in the kitchen, staring at your phone laying on the table. Nothing. For two days. Maybe you had missed a call, you checked: no missed calls, no missed voicemails, no missed texts. Laptop out you searched for recent arrests in the town they were in, they hadn’t been arrested. That just left dead or too busy to call.

“I bet they are dead,” a little voice called. “Or maybe they really don’t love you, you know like brothers are supposed to. You don’t have their mom, Mary is so important to them, they couldn’t care about you or your mom.”

“Stop it,” you say out loud as the voice gets more and more control. “Stop it, they love me.”

“Of course we love you,” Dean’s voice rang out around the kitchen.

“Dean!” you shouted, jumping up and sprinting towards him as he set down his duffle, Sam came down the stairs a moment later with his own duffle and you ran to hug him as well. “Sam!”

“Hey N/N, how was the bachelorette pad?” Sam asks after he kisses your forehead. You squeeze him tighter to assure yourself he’s real and here and alive.

“Ninety-five percent clean,” you add sheepishly. “Sorry, but I broke into your rooms and did laundry. I put it all away and changed sheets, is that okay?” you ask as you pull away from Sam’s embrace. Dean whistles, low, one note.

“I dunno kiddo, I had a system,” he says sarcastically, but that goes right over your head.

“I’m sorry, I can go put it all back where I found it. I’m so sorry,” you turn quickly on the ball of your foot as you start towards his room when he clamps a hand on your shoulder.

“Hey, Y/N, I was kidding. Don’t apologize. It was a poorly placed joke. Thank you.”

“Yeah, the place looks amazing!” Sam added.

“Can I put the books away now?” you pleaded.

“Right now?” Dean questioned, “We brought home your favorite dinner from that diner in Leba-” he went on as you walked right past the food instead to grab a stack of books, “what are you doing?”

“I’m sorry, it’s bothering me. Start without me. I’ll be right there.”

The boys shared a look and went to dig in. After a grueling hunt, good food was a top priority, that and beer. You shuffled books and papers around and took notes that were of keeping quality, you walked them to the correct room and left them in neat sorted piles.

Dean took to holding out fries for you as you passed, but you rarely took them. Sometimes you took them only to lay them back on the table, or to poke them in Sam’s mouth. You continued to grab your brothers some cold beers and pop their tops for them. Soon they were too far gone to worry about you.

Finally the library and war room were clean, the kitchen was another story with two passed out men on the kitchen table. You woke them up enough to drag them to their rooms. Muttering apologies the whole way, you took Sam first. He was mostly awake when you laid him down in bed.

“Night Sam,” you say, “Sorry I didn’t stop you sooner, I should have been a better sister.” He’s asleep in seconds after hitting the pillow, and can’t even reply to you, but nonetheless, it feels better to tell him. Even if he doesn’t know.

Dean is wide awake drunk as you lead him down the hall.

“N/N! Where are you taking me?” Dean calls down the hall even though you are right next to him.

“To bed De, I’m sorry, but you gotta get out of my kitchen again. I have to clean it.”

“That’s all you ever do! Clean! Or yell at us for leaving a mess!”

“I’m sorry De, I’m sorry. Just get in bed and you won’t have to put up with me anymore,” you say slowly. Not wanting to agitate him.

“Jesus,” Dean sighs and drops the subject, or forgot what the topic was but either way, he stopped talking about it.

Back in the kitchen, they had left a meal for you. You took it right to the trash, not wanting them to know you were skipping meals now. Better not let them find out you did that, the little voice called, that would be a big apology. I doubt you could make it through that one.

“Stop it,” you whisper, wiping tears before you turn to scrub the kitchen within an inch of its life.

~~~

Dean rolled into consciousness,  right onto the floor. Groaning he sat up and tried to untangle his limbs from the sheets. As you pass his open door you see him sitting up on the floor.

“De! Are you okay?” you asked rushing in and kneeling down next to him.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Hit my face and elbow. Shit, how much did I drink?” Dean asked as he scrubbed a hand over his face.

“You and Sam had quite a few, sorry I didn’t keep track of you guys. I bet Sam is just as hungover as you,” you rambled and looked out the door, ears straining to hear if Sam was up yet. Hearing nothing you tugged at Dean to get him up, leading him to the bathroom you left him there, telling him to holler if he needed anything while you went to check on Sam. Sam was still rolled up in his sheets, you quietly rolled him around to untangle his gangly limbs and then left him, with his door open so you could hear if anything went wrong. You hurried back to Dean’s room and found it empty.

“Dean?” you called into the room, with no response you hurried down past Sam’s room to the kitchen. “Dean?” A hand popped out around a corner holding a fork. “Yes, De, I will cook you some breakfast. What do you want?”

Pancakes on the griddle and bacon in a pan pulled your other sleepy brother from his room. Wiping his face as he came into the kitchen in yesterday’s clothes he fell into the chair across from Dean. Plates of food were placed before them, they dug in, sluggish movements slowly getting more speed and dexterity. When coffee was added a few minutes later, they perked up. Sam and Dean ask questions about last night, when they went to bed, how many they had, how they got to bed. You quietly answer their questions with a cup of coffee and a varying amount of “sorry”s.

“You don’t have to be sorry, Y/N,” Sam said.

“Seriously, stop telling me you’re sorry, you did what you thought was right, and I thank you not making me sleep it off in here.” Dean said sternly. You just nodded, knowing that they wouldn’t understand.

“Y/N, hello, did you hear me?” Sam asks, waving a hand before your face. “Are you going to eat?” You shook your head and held up the cup of coffee instead. Sliding off the chair you were perched on, translation: I want the rest of the food on that plate, the little voice called. You shook your head and turned back to the main counter to clean your mess. Occasionally returning to the coffee cup you cleaned the kitchen and washed the dishes while fighting the little voice off. It has gotten more prevalent in the last couple hunts. The boys are figuring out you aren’t good, at hunting, and they are leaving you home more often so that you don’t get hurt, or get them killed. That little voice was getting on your nerves, only because I speak the truths you won’t believe.

~~~

“Okay, we will back in a week. Cas is going to stop by and keep you company, okay N/N?” Sam says softly as Dean loads up Baby. He wraps you up in a tight hug before kissing your cheek and moving out of the way for Dean to hug you too.

“No boys, no drugs, and have a beer maybe? Loosen up, kiddo, we’ll be okay. We will call,” he said as he climbed into Baby.  You stood in the front door of the bunker, arms crossed over your body, your right hand rubs your arm through your thin shirt as you watch the car fade into the distance.

“Cas,” you called into the empty bunker.

“Y/N,” his bass voice rumbles from the war room. “Is something wrong?”

“No, I just wanted to know if you were going to come or not. Y’know, if I got hurt or something.”

“Of course, do you intend to be harmful to yourself? Should I stay the week here or…” Cas trailed off. Clearly not used to dealing with your bluntness about such things.

“No, of course not any more than usual. Paper cuts and shaving nicks still happen though. Damn knives are sharp enough to cut a hair,” you brush off his questions walking towards to kitchen. A cup of coffee finds its way to you, you glance back at Cas as he quickly drops his hand back to his side.

“Floating coffee had better be amazing,” you say quickly, trying to fool him into thinking you were fine, just like you did with the boys, but they are pretty dense. You shook your head, trying to get rid of the voice. Can’t get rid of me, just like Sam couldn’t get rid of Lucifer, you can’t get rid of me. I’m part of you. Shaking your head again you take another couple steps and set your coffee down before resting your head in your hands on the counter.

A soft hand over your back, rubbing comforting circles in your shoulders, accompanied by the heavenly body it was attached to came close, too close. You reached a hand out and gently shoved him away, Aw, even the bird wants to help you. But what can he do? All he does is come in and show you up in front of those HALF-brothers of yours. I suppose he likes the competition of attention, but babysitting. So beneath him. He should be out hunting with them, in your spot, ‘cause, y’know, your ‘broken.’

“I’m not broken, just a little bent here and there. I don’t need to be coddled,” you told the voice, but Cas gripped your shoulders and turned you to face him.

“What is your topic? I am very… confused.”

“I don’t need you to babysit me Cas. Go help Sam and Dean, I’ll be here. Cooped up,” you snapped, but that was enough, all you heard was Cas’s wings and he was gone. You left your full cup of coffee on the counter and wandered around. Cleaning as you went.

Cas showed up a couple times, he forced you to stop cleaning, he sat there and watched you eat, and he took the time to watch a movie with you, one he knew you would fall asleep to. When Cas was there for company, the hours seemed to fly by, but they drug on and on when he wasn’t there. He sometimes had to leave suddenly to help the boys, but he always came back to check on you. You wouldn’t tell him but you enjoyed his easy non-judgmental company. On the last night, the boys were late getting home, Cas had shown up to tell you that they were on the way. He had suggested a movie to pass the time, since they had to drop some things off in a couple places, namely body parts but it happens.

Cas turned on an old documentary that you usually enjoyed, but the stress of the week got the better of you, and you fell asleep on his shoulder. Trying to not disturb you he placed two fingers on your forehead and checked out your body for any ailments. What he found was disturbing to him. He zapped to the impala as soon as he could get your head on a pillow.

~~~ In the Impala

“Hello,” Cas stated suddenly from the back seat. Dean swerved all over the small two lane highway in rural Nebraska headed straight south to Kansas.

“Shit Cas! We told you have to stop doing that. Warn a brother!” Dean called.

Sam turned around in the seat, “What do you want Cas? I thought you were having a movie night with Y/N? Is something wrong?”

“Something is very wrong,” Cas stated simply, Dean pushed the gas a little harder with each detail that Cas said: refusal to eat, not sleeping, constant cleaning, shaking head, and Cas’s diagnosis of mild depression.

~~~

The bunker was quiet the next morning when you sat up in bed. Blearily you rubbed your eyes and wandered to the kitchen to make a pot of coffee that you would eventually dump in a couple hours only to find the boys home, all three of them sitting around the kitchen table talking in hushed tones with food made and a pot of coffee ready to be poured. Cas was the first to look up as you rattled the cupboard door to get a cup of coffee. Dean and Sam looked up too.

“Hey Y/N,” Sam calls out. “Come over here, I made breakfast for us this morning.”

“You didn’t have to, you could have got me up, I would have made it for you,” you said quickly turning to face them. Dean pulls out a chair and puts a couple pancakes on a plate for you. After pouring your coffee, you sit down but push the plate forward and rest your forearms on the table with your coffee.

“Sorry I didn’t stay up to see you guys in, I must have partied too hard this week,” you tried to smile, but their faces told the whole story. Sullen smiles, sad eyes, and the absolute smorgasbord of food in front of you; someone found out. “Why are you looking at me like that?” you questioned.

“Well,” Dean started but ran out of steam right there. “I mean…”

“Cas told us everything, said you weren’t eating, or sleeping, all you did was clean. And we are worried about you,” Sam explained in a soft leve voice.

“Do you feel okay? Cas said you’ve been shaking your head, got water in an ear or do you need a doctor?” Dean asked, regaining his thoughts.

Not the doctor you’re thinking but yes she does need a doctor. One that is way too expensive for your little credit card scams.  You shook your head and took a sip of coffee, your throat was dry and the coffee slid down into your empty stomach and nestled there warmly. “I’m fine, I don’t know why all of a sudden you think I need a babysitter, just because I’m ten years younger than you guys. It’s okay, I’m okay,” no you’re not, “I don’t know what’s got you guys all riled up.”

The guys tried for the next three weeks, only taking day trip hunts, trying to help you, but in turn they just smothered you. And saying your sorry for doing things only infuriated Dean, no matter what it was about; spilling a cup of coffee, putting the gun back in the wrong spot, putting a book away that he had been reading, cutting him off. Sam was more gentle, but still he seemed to get upset easily now, promising that he wasn’t mad at you, when you put away his books, or made dinner without him to help you get the stock pot off the high shelf. Everything was wrong, and even Cas tired of you. He had tried several times to get you to let him “fix” you, but you always told him you were fine, you didn’t need him to baby you.

Soon enough he just gave up, and so had the boys. They went on longer hunts, and came home less often. You rarely ate anymore and the voice had taken over. It controlled you to the point where you would clean for days on end pass out from exhaustion for a few hours and begin cleaning again. It would say things like they don’t love you that’s why they never come home, they are dead that’s why they’ve been gone so long, they are never coming back, they love Cas more than you, you could never survive as a hunter anyway, you would just die a slow and painful death, maybe you should avoid that slow and painful death by a quick one. Maybe you should kill yourself.

Maybe you should kill yourself.

The thought had been there for months now, end it and be over. It will be okay. You don’t have a need or a purpose anymore. They don’t come home so you should be uninterrupted too. Just do it.

I won’t leave until you do it.

~~~

Cas lands in the impala’s backseat, Sam swerves a bit, Dean jumps; “she’s safe, I checked. She’s at peace in heaven. It’s nice-”

“Don’t tell me about her heaven, Cas, just don’t,” Dean says sternly as a tear rolls down his face. Her jacket in his lap, thankful that he didn’t have to burn it in the pyre too. He holds it up to his face, breathes in her perfume.

His baby sister is gone, she killed herself in the farthest bathroom with the bottle of bleach she was using to clean her blood up out of the grout in the tile. Who knows how long she had been cutting, they had tried to help, took her to one of those fancy doctors, they said put her in a home. They had only been gone an hour, a milk run, literally. More tears dotted the jacket and Sam reached out a hand to hold Dean’s, but all he got was a coat sleeve, that was good enough for him. As his vision blurred slightly with tears they pulled up to the bunker, they got out and tentatively went inside. There wasn’t a speck of dust in the whole bunker, not a page of notes out of place, every label facing perfectly outward. In a few days, everything she worked so hard to do would be gone, disheveled, and dirty.

“I’m sorry,” Dean whispered.

[canwetalkaboutcaptainswan]

280 Days

Finally finally the fic you all requested...Pregnant!Emma galore. It’s a long one folks. I hope you enjoy it!! 

@justcheckingstuffcs @dark-ones-dont-need-sleep @losttalongthewayy @leatherjacketsandrum @mrandmrsswan @naiariddle @raggedyclaraa @mayquita @thegladelf @flslp87 @onceuponiwishmytime @galadriel26 @captainswanslay @captainswan710 @allofthismatters @mxltifandoms @caaptain-swan @jennjenn615 @kmomof4 @justcheckingstuffcs @blowmiakisscolin 

Don’t forget, if I missed you in the tags, just shoot me a message and I’ll tag you from now on. And if you just got here, this piece is a companion piece to this, but you could still enjoy it if you haven’t read anything from the Nth Time Series.(But if you want to read all the parts, just go to my blog and check the cs ff tag.)

Enjoy this big fat heaping dose of CS family fluff!

~ Jenn 

*************************************************

~ Day 78

She hates it. She forgot how much actually being pregnant sucks. 280 days of pure, undiluted torture. She’s queasy in the mornings and sweaty at night and she’s only known she’s pregnant for two weeks but god, it already feels like it’s been an eternity. Today is especially bad because this morning she woke up and she wanted eggs and Killian, of course, because this is Killian, made her eggs but then the smell made her sick, which made him feel bad which made her feel bad which made her cry which made him feel even worse which made her feel even worse. And her belly is already so round and in charge, and god, she’s 11 weeks pregnant and how dare her stupid perfect husband pump her full of so many babies?!

~ Day 83

They find an obstetrician that specializes in multiples at a Children’s hospital in Boston. The drive there is a little too far for Killian’s liking (45 minutes, 40 if you speed) but Emma assures him that it’s worth it and that she’d rather make the drive than trust Frankenstein to deliver their twins. Their first visit there is a Tuesday, and they’re delightfully surprised when the friendly obstetrician offers to get out her ultrasound machine. It’s the first time Killian’s seen the babies and he’s transfixed on the screen, watching those little blobs dance with the happiest of expressions. He cries when he hears their heartbeats for the first time, and before they leave, Dr. Cameron whispers to Emma about how lucky she is to have such a supportive partner. “Oh believe me,” she agrees, offering a smile, “there’s no way I could do this with anyone but him."

~ Day 90

Today is lovely in every sense of the word. It’s a lazy day, that Saturday, a perfect day off. Emma sleeps in and misses the morning sail, waking only to the patter of little 3-year old feet and the feeling of sea salt dusted lips against her hairline. She opens her eyes just as Leia clambers up on the bed, intent on telling the babies about her morning even though they can’t hear her really, not yet. “The wind was perfect, little loves,” the three year-old explains, and Emma watches Killian quietly sigh on account of Leia’s now-perfect “L” sounds. His only consolation is that his heart is warmed by the fact that she’s mastered the sound by using her own special nickname on her brothers ("or sisters, Killian.” “No, Swan.").

~ Day 112

There’s a crisis. What a surprise. Some villain with an ample supply of magic knock-out powder is going from shop to shop in town, taking money from the tills. Granny and Gold were both found unconscious, and August had been hit with the powder at the top of a staircase, which he’d then fallen down and broken a leg and a collarbone. Enough was enough and it was time to catch the bandit. Emma scurries around the house, fetching her jacket and loading her gun before snapping it into the holster. She’d had to expand the buckle on the thing to accommodate for her expanding girth already. (Ugh, are you kidding me?) She's pissed because it's her day off and now she has this to deal with. Her and Killian had been having a much needed nap together while Leia played with Henry, and it nearly killed her to leave his arms. Killian follows her around the house as she readies herself, and one look at his face lets her know something's bothering him. She goes to the front door to put on her boots, and he trails behind, busying himself with straightening the rest of the shoes in the foyer while she ties her laces. “Hey,” she says when she's finished, reaching for him, “I won’t be long, okay? Gunna nab this asshole and then my dad can deal with him. I’ll be back in no time to finish our nap.”

Killian takes a deep breath but forces a smile. Still, Emma can see that it doesn't reach his eyes, and can tell he’s unsettled inside. Unfortunately there's no time for her to figure it out now, as she really does have to go. He leans down and kisses her forehead. “Aye. Be…just be careful, Swan, alright?”

She nods, kissing his cheek before darting out the front door and going down the porch steps, toward the bug. She reaches into her pocket to retrieve her phone, intent on calling her dad and figuring out where they should start searching for this bastard. But before she can dial, she hears the front door open behind her. She spins, expecting it to be Leia wanting to say goodbye to her, but it isn’t. Killian is standing on the front porch, a heartbreaking expression of desperation etched on his face as he gazes at her. Well actually, she realizes, he isn’t really gazing at her, but rather at the small protrusion underneath her jacket that’s currently housing his two tiny humans.

“Please don’t go, Swan,” he says then, and the words are a quiet, desperate plead.

Understanding floods Emma almost instantly, and she mentally kicks herself because how had she failed to realize before the obvious reason why he looked so terrified?

“Oh Killian, I won’t,” she says automatically, and she immediately steps toward him, releasing her hold on her phone. Killian exhales in obvious relief and rushes toward her, meeting her at the bottom of the porch and pulling her into his arms. She wraps her own arms around him tightly, carding her fingers through his hair to soothe him.  

He nuzzles against her ear. “I’m sorry, love. I know you can handle yourself, but I was just afraid that-“

“Hey, hey hey. Don’t be sorry, Killian, you’re right. I love you so much, okay? I’m not going anywhere. We’re all right here.”

He exhales again, nodding against her, and she still feels guilty for even considering endangering their unborn children. What if she’d been knocked out? Or fallen down a flight of stairs like August? She shudders in his arms at the mere thought, and does her best to throw all that out of her head. She’s safe here, he has her. “C’mon,” she smiles gently, nodding toward the house, “I’ll call my dad and we’ll resume our nap.”

~ Day 120

"Do you know how amazing you are?” he asks her one night when they’re settled intimately in their bathtub, Leia asleep, candles lit and bubbles abounding. Her back is pressed against his chest and his hand is settled under the water against her belly, her abdominal muscles quivering as he circles her navel with his pinkie finger. They’re cheek to stubbled cheek, so she’s sure he can feel the heat of her blush.

“Hmm,” she hums quietly, unsure of how to respond to his grandiose, complimentary statement.

“You’re just constantly amazing me, my love. First I got to watch you learn to be a mother to a little boy who is now our beautiful, astute young man. And then I got to watch you fiercely deliver our little screaming daughter into the world and have the pleasure of helping you raise her to be the perfect little ray of light that she is. And now here we are again, you’re blessing me with the greatest gift again, of carrying not one more but two more little creatures whom I already love so desperately that it makes me half-crazed. I’d have nothing if not for you, Emma Swan-Jones. You quite literally rooted me up from a place where I had nothing and you gave me everything. And I love you so, so much. So much.”

Emma just stares at him, tears gathering bountifully in her eyes. “...okay, well. I have absolutely no idea how to follow that speech, so I guess I’ll just kiss you now, okay?” she tries.

Killian just beams at her, the love in his gaze setting fire to her skin. “Okay,” he whispers.

~ Day 126

The paint is cold, but it feels nice. She's sprawled out on a hammock she let Leia conjure in their creepy-basement-turned-multi-purpose space, her belly jutting out proudly towards the ceiling. It's splattered with patterns of blues and pinks, Leia's paintbrush sweeping smoothly in a rhythmic motion that's halfway lulling her to sleep. Killian sits nearby in a lazy boy, yet another book about raising multiples perched on his lap. Noticing her mother’s eyes shut, Leia turns to her father. “How much longer until we can find out, Daddy?”

Killian smiles widely at his daughter’s artwork before looking at her. “Just two more weeks now, little love. I promise.”

~Day 140

No matter how hard anyone tries, the piñata just will not bust open. The backyard is all but packed to the max, literally all of Storybrooke having gathered for the grand celebration. Pink and blue decorations a la Mary Margaret are everywhere, and all that stands between everyone and the truth is a giant, pirate-ship-shaped piñata. All the kids - Leia, Robyn, Neal, Alexandra, Finley, etc - have been taking turns whacking the thing for the past half hour. Henry even took a mean swing, followed by Charming. But still, nothing. Killian is all but vibrating with excitement, swallowing curses every time somebody hits it.

“Why are you so nervous?” Emma elbows him playfully, oddly feeling calm despite the gravity of this situation. “You’ve said from day 1 you know they’re boys.”

“Aye, Swan, but it’s been a bloody eternity. I need that candy to fall so I can be certain.”

Emma clasps his shaking hand, rubbing the back of it with her thumb. “Patience, grasshopper. I’m sure one of these times—”

They’re interrupted by a thunderous crack, Neal having hit the ship particularly hard this time. The piñata swings wildly and everyone’s eyes watch it in anticipation, and then there’s a collective groan when it simply swings to a stop, virtually unharmed. “Emma there has to be a better way,” Regina whines, throwing her hands in the air. “Can’t I just blast the damn thing with a fireball?”

“No, wait!” Leia interjects, throwing the bat Neal handed her to the grass and scampering over to her parents. “Daddy. Hook please?”

Emma laughs at her little firecracker’s drastic plan, and releases Killian’s hand so he can remove the hook from its holster. His face is a mask of suspense, and his fingers shake ever so slightly. Leia of course, doesn’t miss it. “Come with me, Daddy? We can do it together!”

A smile breaks out on his face as he hands Leia the curved metal, the sun glinting off it in the afternoon light. Leia holds it carefully and Killian scoops her up, unable to resist the urge to kiss her rosy little cheek. “My smart little pirate,” he chides her, striding towards the piñata. “Are you ready?”

Everyone falls quiet. Emma’s heart rate quickens as she watches Killian and Leia go, and she brings her hand to rest against her belly. Mary Margaret fusses for the rest of the kids to back up, and Killian catches Emma’s eye for a brief moment. “Love you,” he mouths.

“I love you too,” she mouths right back.

And all at once, Leia swings her arm and plunges the hook deep into the piñata, yanking fiercely. And suddenly, finally, there’s an outpouring of candy, and Emma rolls her eyes and smiles because every piece is blue.

~ Day 148

No matter how hard she tries, she just can’t stop crying. Leia’s spending the day with Killian and his brother and Henry’s at school, so it isn’t like her loud sobs echoing around in the empty house are bothering anyone. She’s curled up on Killian’s side of their bed, and she stares in anger at the book of baby boy names she’d just chucked across the room. The tears roll hotly down her cheeks as she tries to untangle the knot of frustration coiled in her chest. There’s still time, Emma. Don’t worry, Emma. Somehow you’ll come up with names for not one but two little boys, Emma. She tries and fails to calm herself. Why the fuck had naming Leia been so easy? It had been the first of 3 names either of them suggested and they both fell in love with it. Why couldn’t this be easy, too? A fresh sob escapes her throat and she reaches for her phone, jamming her fingers irrationally hard against the buttons as she dials. Killian answers on the first ring, concern all too thick in his tone when he hears her sniffling. “Swan, what’s wrong?!” he demands in a hurry.

“C-can you pl-please come home?” she stammers, immediately hating herself for sounding like the hormonal pregnant lady that she is, “I’m hungry and I need you and your sons both need names.”

~ day 165

“Woah, Mommy!” Leia exclaims, her little hands pressed against Emma’s tummy, “Do it again!”

“I can’t make them kick, Leiabear. Try talking to them. When Daddy would talk to you, you would go crazy in there.”

“Hi, baby boys,” Leia coos at Emma’s tummy. “Are you warm and cozy in there? You talk too, Mommy. They like you.”

“Hello in there, sweet boys,” Emma coos, and Leia squeals excitedly as the kicks start up again. “We love you so much, all of us out here.”

“We DO love you,” Leia agrees, patting the spots she felt kicks. She giggles infectiously, and Emma reaches up to tuck her wild hair back behind her ears.

The front door opens then, Killian having returned from his quick run to Granny’s. Leia screams for him the minute she hears the door click, not wanting him to miss out on the fun. “Daddy, come quick!”

Emma rolls her eyes and laughs as she hears Killian’s thunderous, rushed footsteps carrying him up the stairs to where his girls (and boys) are. “What’s wrong? What’s happening?!” he demands, his face frantic.

“Did you seriously leave my onion rings at the front door?!” Emma scolds him.

“The babies are kicking us!” Leia explains excitedly.

Killian gasps and rushes over to the bed, and Leia jumps to the side so he has room. “And I missed it?!” The horror and sadness in his tone makes Emma laugh while simultaneously making Leia visibly upset.

“It’s okay, Daddy. It’s okay. They’ll do it again, I promise. They kick really hard when Mommy talks. Talk, Mommy!”

Emma, feeling the slightest bit like some riveting zoo exhibit, heeds her daughter’s request. “Little babies,” she begins, and Killian hovers his hands over her belly, letting Leia show him where to place his palms. “Your Daddy’s home now, little loves. He rushed up here so fast he forgot our food downstairs. Say, ‘we’re hungry, Dad!’’

The furious kicking starts then, and Killian gasps and chuckles in delight. “My lads!” he exclaims, rubbing gently where he can feel the tiny pushes. “Do you love your Mummy’s voice oh so very much? Dare I say she’s your very first love?”

“Oh, you bet I am,” Emma teases him, and Killian winks at her.

“That’s alright,” he teases back, “They’re they only two men I’ll ever surrender you to.”

~ Day 175

Building cribs is more difficult than it looks. Killian had refused help from Emma’s father, determined to accomplish the task all on his own. He’s literally sweating, even after cracking open the boys’ nursery window and taking off his coat and shirt. Despite the difficulty, he’s almost done…assembling one of the two, at least. Just a few more screws to tighten in and it would be on to the second one. He daydreams to pass the time, thinking about how one day soon Emma will bring their boys into the world. He physically aches with the need to meet them, to see their sweet little faces, to hold them and love them and never let them go. At the same time, though, he doesn’t want to meet them quite yet, for he knows how important it is for them to stay inside Emma for as long as there’s room. Emma’s doing a wonderful job carrying them, he thinks to himself. Despite the fact that her back aches and she pees every half hour, to Killian she’s an utter vision, his love, the grandest beauty there ever was. He’s so lost in thought that he fails to notice that the object of his affections is leaning against the doorframe, grilled cheese for him balanced against the top of her bump.

Emma too, is lost in thought, gazing down at her sweaty, chiseled, half-naked pirate. He’s a mess of furrowed brow and rippling muscle, and she swears that if he tries to build the second crib before taking her to bed she’ll kill him.

~ Day 197

At one of their ultrasound appointments, their regular ultrasound technician Amy asks Emma if it would be alright if a student joined her and helped. Emma smiles at the student (who looks nervous and terrified) and assures her that she’s fine with it. Normally Killian sits right by Emma to watch, but seeing as there are two technicians instead of one, he instead sits in a chair in the corner of the room so as not to be in the way. Emma makes small talk with the women, honestly doing her best to calm the student down. Her hands shake as she applies the gel, and apologizes for the temperature with a speech she’d definitely memorized. “It’s okay,” Emma tries to comfort her. “You’re doing great.” The student offers her a smile, and Amy tells her to find baby A’s heartbeat. She moves the probe and does so with ease, the fast rhythmic thudding music to Killian’s ears, as always.

Once it’s recorded, Amy tells the student she can do baby B now. The student nods and moves the probe, stopping the noise. She slides the thing upward, and presses it down. No thudding comes, and Emma smiles at the girl again when she notices her start to panic. “Try sliding it posteriorly a bit,” Amy instructs. The probe moves again, and still no sound. The student now looks like she wants to crawl into a hole and die, and Emma feels terrible. She turns away to share a pitied look with Killian, but is startled profusely when her gaze lands on her husband’s face. Killian looks white as a ghost. His face is contorted and his eyes are bulging wide, and he honestly looks like he might faint or throw up. Quickly reading his mind, Emma jerks suddenly, looking at the women again.

“Uhh, I’m sorry. Me and my husband were having a…huge fight in the car on the way here and I uhh..don’t feel settled because we didn’t resolve it. Could you give us like, 3 minutes alone? I’m so sorry. You’re honestly doing a great job,” she assures the young girl, patting her arm and feeling bad for lying.

“Sure Emma,” Amy agrees, motioning for the student to follow her out of the room. I’ll just let Alana look at your charts if that’s okay with you.”

“Of course,” Emma says, trying to get them out of the room as fast as possible. The minute they walk out of the room Emma moves faster than she’s moved in months, jumping out of the chair and going to Killian’s corner. “Killian, look at me. Killian,” she says firmly, his gaze lost far away still, but her voice snaps him out of it and he looks in her eyes, the terror in his face nearly blinding her. “Listen to me. That baby is fine. Absolutely, one hundred percent fine. That girl is a student, Killian. She’s just learning. The heartbeat is there, do you hear me? She’s just a kid. She’s just learning and she doesn’t know exactly where to put the thingie. But the actual baby is fine. It’s okay. I promise you.”

Killian starts to cry and she yanks him into her arms, the gel on her belly most likely smearing onto some of his leather. “Are you sure?” he croaks against her, and her heart almost shatters.

“Yes, babe. Yes. I promise you, he’s fine. They’re both fine. I’m so sorry you got so scared. Here, come here.”

She drags him over to her chair and grabs the probe, which is thankfully still on. Emma places it on her own belly, and within a few seconds she finds the right spot. Thudding once again fills the room and Killian presses his forehead to hers, basically collapsing with relief. She rubs his cheek with her free hand, kissing all over his face. “See? It’s okay. Your babies are fine. They’re both fine, I promise. I’m so sorry, Killian. You don’t have to be scared. Everything’s okay.”

Killian slowly collects himself, breathing deeply and rubbing at his eyes. Emma threads their fingers together, squeezing his hand. “She’s just learning, Killian. And she’s so nervous. Amy is probably her teacher and she’s afraid she’s gunna screw up. Are you okay now?”

Killian takes another deep breath. “Aye, Swan. I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Killian. You were just scared and that’s okay, okay? Here, pull that chair over here. Sit right by me, okay?”

Killian pulls the chair over, and kisses Emma's forehead. “Shall I go tell the ladies we’ve resolved our fake fight?”

Emma chuckles, squeezing his hand again. “Yes, please."

~ Day 212

She isn’t allowed out of bed anymore. Last week she’d been dizzy, and because she didn’t want to worry Killian she didn’t tell him. And then today, she’d fainted. Thankfully she was standing next to Killian when it happened, thankfully he caught her, and thankfully Leia didn’t see. She’d come to only minutes later, wearing no clothes and covered in cold towels, Killian crying and on the phone with the OB. For a split second she felt like laughing at the image of him freaking out and literally ripping her clothes off her (they were in a pile of shreds next to her) but then she felt like an ass because the whole thing had scared him tremendously and probably shaved years off his life. The doctor told him on the phone that it was probably her blood pressure dipping and that she should be on bedrest from now until the babies come. But nevertheless, he insists on driving her to Boston for a checkup. Thankfully everything is normal, aside from the fact that her blood pressure is dipping, and then the doctor repeats again, that she isn’t to get out of bed anymore.

~ Day 222

10 days in bed and she feels like she might die of boredom. Emma Swan does not lay in bed and do nothing - not her style. So it’s tremendously hard to let Killian do everything for her, even though he does it with zero complaints. Thankfully she has an entertaining 3 year old to help her pass the time. Today Leia’s activity of choice is to practice magic, and she does so by laying next to Emma and flicking her wrists to change the colour of the walls. And as she watches her tiny daughter wield her power, Emma errantly wonders whether the twins will have magic. Then she gets too wigged out by the idea of two identical male toddlers with magical fists, and promptly sends Leia to tell Daddy to make Mommy an ice cream sundae.

~ Day 230

“Mom. This is a little out of hand, you have to admit.”

“Oh, I fully admit to that, Emma. But just think. We won’t get to dress them ourselves forever. We have to take advantage.” Mary Margaret had went shopping in Boston, and Emma was fairly certain there isn’t a stitch of infant boy clothing left in any stores in the whole city, on account of they are all splayed out in front of her. Overalls and moccasins and sleepers and cable knit sweaters and onesies galore (2 of each, of course).

Emma smiles at her mother, who is so obviously proud of herself. “Thanks, Mom. I’m sure they’ll love all of it. So much so that I’m sure they’ll spit up or poop to prove their gratitude to you.”

~ Day 240

She wakes up in the middle of the night, and Killian isn’t in bed with her. At first, she just assumes he’d crawled in with Leia like always, but then something inside her makes her want to check to make sure he’s okay. She hauls her larger-than-life body out of bed (which secretly is a blessing because these days she never gets to use her legs. Killian has even taken to insisting she be carried to the bathroom) and walks down the hallway.

Sure enough, he isn’t in the giant Jolly Roger bed. Instead, she finds him across the hall, in the twins’ nursery. He’s sitting on the floor between the cribs, his legs curled up and his chin resting on his hands. He’s so lost in thought that it takes a few seconds for him to notice his whale of a wife in the doorframe. But he does, eventually.

“You shouldn’t be out of bed, love,” he scolds her lightly, and she just rolls her eyes at him, coming into the room. It takes great effort, (and a little of his help) but eventually she sits down on the floor next to him. She offers him her hand and he takes it, linking their fingers.

It’s silent for a moment as she waits for him to speak.

“It’ll be soon, aye?”

Emma blows out a puff of air. “I think so. I hope so. I’m tired of being pregnant. I hate it, you know.”

Killian chuckles quietly. “Never would’ve guessed,” he jokes.

“Don’t get me wrong, I love having babies with you. I just don’t enjoy the carting-them-around-on-top-of-my-organs-for-hundreds-of-days part.”

“I understand. I’m sorry. I wish I could do more.”

“Hey, you. You know you give me everything I need and more. Now, talk to me. What’s bothering you?”

“I’m worried about them, Emma.”

Emma crinkles up her nose. “What? Worried about what part?”

He sighs. “There’s two of them and there’s one of me. What if they both need protecting and I can’t-“

“Hey, now,” Emma interrupts, raising a hand to cup his face. “First of all, I have complete confidence that if for any reason one or several of our children were threatened, you would find a way to protect them. And second of all, you’re right. There is only one of you. But there’s also one of me. So there’s two of them, and two of us. You’ve told me from day one that we can handle this, so now it’s my turn to tell you. We can do this, Killian. Together, just like we’ve always done everything. It’s gunna be a hell of a crazy ride, but we’re going to love every second. I know it.”

He smiles then, putting his arm around her. She leans into him, and promptly yawns. “Best back to bed for you, my love,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“Fine,” she agrees, wiggling in an attempt to stand, “but you’re gunna let me walk there myself.”

~ Day 246

He wakes up in the middle of the night to the sound of her sniffling. He reaches for her instinctively, but soon realizes she’s sitting on the edge of the bed and out of reach. He jolts upright, jostling the bed. “Are the babies coming?!” he asks her frantically, shaking his head to wake himself up.

“No,” she sniffles, and her answer comes out in somewhat of an angry snarl. He crawls to her, reaching with his good hand to massage her shoulder, but she shrugs his touch away, leaving him confused. “What’s troubling you, darling?” he asks gently, trying to get her to meet his gaze.

“I’m so big,” she cries, frustration in her tone. “I’m tired of it.”

“Hey now,” he clucks at her, and he climbs to sit next to her so he can pull her against his side, but she again resists his touch.

Then she starts yelling. “I’m tired of your “hey nows!” And I’m tired of your side hugs! And I’m tired of being the little spoon and then waking up with you having rolled away from me. I miss when you could hold me all night long with my face against your neck and your chest chair against my nipples. When you hold me like that I feel safe. And I’m just sad cause I can’t remember the last time I actually fit in my favourite spot and I woke up and had to pee of course and when I came back to bed there was no foreseeable way for me to get myself close to-”

She’s rambling now, and working herself up to cry harder, so he deems it an appropriate time to interrupt her. “Oh, my love. I’m so sorry, sweetheart. Come right here, darling. We’ll fix it. You’ll fit right here, right where you belong. Emma, my love. Let me hold you, sweet.”

She tries to argue but he just pulls her with him to the middle of the bed, her towering belly peeking out from under her tank top. He pulls off said tank top before laying on his back, beckoning her to follow suit. She refuses and it’s difficult, but he is determined to please her. He continues pulling at her and it’s awkward at first, but he situates them so that she’s on her side facing him and her ginormous belly is resting on top of his flat one. She fusses about crushing him and he just hushes her, yanking pillows to tuck behind her so she’s comfortable and maneuvering his arm so she can use it to rest her head on and ensuring that his chest hair is fulfilling its rightful duty. After many wiggles and huffs, she finds she can miraculously cuddle against his collarbone with ease, and his arms are tight around her, his good hand trailing lines up her arm.

“Would you magic the blankets over us, love?” He asks, and she sniffles a final time, summoning the sheet and duvet to drape over them the way she likes. One of her legs is tucked between his, and she realizes she can feel the warmth of his skin in a way she’s missed desperately for what seems like forever.

“Better?” Killian whispers, and she kisses his jaw, letting the scent of him calm her further.

“Yeah,” she sighs, and though he feels like her belly might indeed suffocate him, he does admit to himself that he missed holding her like this, close, where he knows she’s safe, where he can see her lovely face and watch her fall asleep. He can feel the babies kicking then, and he pauses rubbing her arm to rub the side of her belly.

“See? You fit. No matter what, you’ll always fit right here, Swan.”

She wiggles a bit, sighing contentedly, and he tightens his hold on her. They lay in silence for a few minutes, just holding each other, and Emma closes her eyes.

Killian’s lips play at her forehead and he whispers his love to her, his voice a soft cadence that he’s used many a time to get her to sleep. Just when he thinks sleep is about to pull her under though, her eyes snap open and she practically growls.

“Fuck my LIFE, KILLIAN. I HAVE TO PEE. TELL YOUR SONS THEY NEED TO GET OUT.”

~ Day 249

It’s movie night. Henry insists they watch Star Wars again, and everyone struggles to get settled on the couch as the opening monologue of episode IV slides across the screen. (Thankfully, everyone in the house has it memorized. Even Leia.) Leia ends up on Killian’s lap, and Emma sits between them and Henry. Her belly makes for a perfect table for the popcorn, until a baby kicks so hard that the bowl tips over and pieces fly everywhere. Emma screams and Henry startles and Leia tries to clean it up quick with her magic, but she accidentally makes the whole couch disappear. The four of them land on the ground with a thud, and they all laugh so hard tears streak down their faces. Once the couch is conjured back they focus on the film, Leia zonking out midway through, as always. Emma dozes too, her head on Killian’s shoulder, but Henry swats her periodically and tells her to pay attention. She does her best to comply, for she knows the days are numbered, and that it’s only a matter of time before a duo of tiny jedis take over their home.

~ Day 251

In the early hours of the morning on the 251st day, she wakes to the feeling of a gush of liquid rushing down her thighs to soak their bed. Shit. Shit. She realizes in that moment that her days are up, that she’ll never make it to day 280, that these boys are coming and they are coming now. She turns over to the sleeping man next to her, to the man who has been her rock and her strength for the past 251 days and well, eons before that too, of course. His hair is tousled and his face is peaceful and all she wants in life is for their sons to look like him. “Killian,” she whispers, voice cutting through the silence, “Killian, hey. You’ve gotta wake up.”