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whump-town · 4 years ago

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Been Having a Hard Time Adjusting

Summary: Alternative to the peaceful homecoming of Emily Prentiss - Aaron Hotchner never truly comes home with her.

Warnings: medical trauma, amputation, scarring, blindness, mental health, hallucinations, and just sad stuff

AN: I have over 9K of this fic written already. I'll warn you all now, it's a painful one.

Part One

The night that he came home from the hospital, more evenly placed stitches, staples, and drugs than man he locked himself out of his apartment. He’d been in the hospital two days, counting the day he’d woken up and the day he left, and unable to stand on his own was escorted out of the hospital in a wheelchair. The timing was perfect. He’d scared JJ and Penelope away, it’s amazing how feeling like death often allows you to look the part. He’d scared them away with his weakness and the anger trying to burn him away. Spencer can’t leave his own hospital bed until his knee has been properly braced but for now, he’s immobile while the swelling from the surgery goes down. Derek is nowhere to be found. It’s too surprising the usual suspects are flaring their heads to tell his “orders” to go fuck themselves.

But on the second day, Strauss had called Emily and Dave both to meetings all day, questioning their behavior and what the next plausible course of action will be for the team. Leaving him roughly seven hours to bust himself out and it’s exactly what he did.

Derek had spent the whole night before fixing his apartment, ripping up the carpet, plastering the wall, and changing and adding locks. As Hotch discovered this, metal scratching metal as his hands trembled unable to even get the old key into the round hole, he’d laughed. Throwing his head back and breaking the stuffy feeling in the hall with its depth and desperation. Laughing that twisted to sobs as he leaned into the door, forehead resting against the wood. Someone had changed the locks. He’d never felt so relieved, so happy to be stuck out in that hall because if he can’t get into the apartment Foyet wouldn’t be able to either.

He’d slid down the wall, head pressed into the doorframe, to rest his temple against the painted wood. He told himself he just needed to rest a moment. He’d rest for a moment and he’d call Derek or Emily or Dave and tell them what he’d done and things would be okay. They’d be angry but someone would take him to a bed, home and he didn’t even care if they were his own. He fell asleep, long legs extended out in front of him and his frame drawn in to stop his stitches from being pulled on. His core was weak and he was in pain but he just needed a second.

A second turned into four in the morning and Derek yelling his name. Peeling his eyes open and finding Derek dropping down beside him, the other man’s warm fingers pressed under his neck checking for a pulse. He’d find one, pounding and rapid but there. His memory of what happened next is hazy, a cloud of Derek talking quickly and being furious. The sound of tears in Derek’s voice as he’d been pulled to his feet, pressed tightly into Derek until they could get into the apartment.

Nothing after that matters. Not Emily’s anger and Dave’s disappointment. The only thing in the world was the feeling of the opposing keys in his hands. The tears that fell down his face when he could look into his palms and see two very different keys. Derek had added more locks, an electric thing that screams and makes his ears hurt but is so loud someone would hear it. That way this would never happen again.

He’d locked himself out a lot after that day. Needed to know the security system worked so he’d take that old key into the hall and sob with relief when he couldn’t get back in. Irrational thoughts and needs like that consumed him and someone was always there to meet those needs as best as they could. No matter the hour, Emily and Derek always showed up to let him back into the apartment with their spare keys. Never met him with an air of annoyance or like he bothered them. They always found him in that hall and mumbled the same promise, “he can’t get you, Hotch.”

And, now, only a year later Emily is out there somewhere. Consumed by those irrational fears born from great desperation and the shattering of her entire sense of security and they aren’t. No one will meet her desperate two a.m. wake-up calls with patience and a spare key to let her back in. She won’t be able to check and double-check because dead women have to play the part and desperation is a characteristic of the living.

He’d taken that away from her. Aaron had taken her life and her security and her family and sent her to another continent to live under an assortment of different names. Isolated her.

He’s finding it impossible to live with himself. With the guilt and the knowledge of how hard it is to cope and move on and live after every sense of security and home has been shattered. She’d been there for him. How many times had she come in the middle of the night because he called? How often did she show up even when he lied, even when he swore he was okay? All so that he wouldn’t have to sit alone in that apartment. Brought snacks and suffocated him in blankets and distracted him with boring movies she loved. Picked at him for his oddities so he could think of anything but his wounds and when he’d needed that she’d given him space. Sat on the other side of the couch in his silence and held his hand.

Now she’s an entire continent away. Dead to the world. Alone. Entirely alone.

Penance, he decides, is the only way to move on from here.

The foreign jobs were always something he and Derek used to scoff at. Not in some idle way that they might be better than the agents (mostly cadets) that take those overseas jobs but because everyone knows the Army chews through feds faster than rats through boxes in an attic. It’s a suicide mission to overtake and he knows that he knows that and he still signs his name on that dotted line.

Emily never went to Pakistan.

On the plane ride over, he tries to dig down and remember all the states she’d once said she had visited in her youth. She’d told him plenty of times, he should know them in his sleep. It’s always what she talked about when she got drunk. A few cups of Dave’s “good stuff” and she’d stretch out over the couch, often placing her head in one of their laps. Drunk is really the only time Emily ever knew how to be affectionate bar all hesitancies.

She’d tick off each place, naming them lazily with a tongue and accent he could never get quite right. His own mouth was too rounded, too rough to get it right. His attempts would make her laugh, the way he’d butcher the syllables with his accent.

He cries. Eyes closed and melted back into the chair.

He knows this is a mistake. Knows that his grief and pain will not dissipate just because he is punishing himself. Instead, he’s furthering everyone else’s. Distancing himself from Reid who is already struggling to grasp hold of this situation. Leaving Derek in charge of a crumbling team. Pulling away from Dave-- it had always been the three of them and now it’s just him. It’s unfair and he knows it is but it’s the only thing he knows. It’s solid and it hurts and it makes more sense, it’s more feasible than anything else.

He has to leave.

He couldn’t tell anyone. Knew too well all he needed was someone to grab his coat-tail, someone to pull him back from the ledge. Turning around isn’t impossible and wiggling out of his contract won’t be that hard because he knows all the right things to say to a therapist. He knows how to make himself look dangerously unappealing to the Army. But he hears Clyde Easter’s words in his head “can you swear that your team will save her”? Feels JJ’s fingers ghost over his hand as she’d told him, and remembers Emily’s dead and it’s his fault. This isn’t about Dave or the team, this is about his penance and it’s what he owes.

It’s too late now. The decision is not even really his to make.

On the plane, pinned in a window seat and knees aching from the cramped space, he thinks about her. The yellow light cast over her features, the weight of her head on his thigh, and Dave pressed into his other side. Smiling until his face hurt and seeing her nails. Remember how high, how warm he’d felt between the two of them. Just Dave and Emily and no monsters to hunt or hurt to protect. Her hand stretched up, how freely she’d laughed.

“Russia,” she’d ticked off. “Romania. Turkey. Israel. Laos.” She’d stopped biting her nails. They were healing.

She’d smirked drunkenly up at him. Dave was getting the car together, the only one of them sober. Liquor always makes her tongue lose, inhibitions lowered and little secrets slipping out. Earlier that week she’d thrown out the soft sentiment that she considered the team her family and they’d agreed to the same but she’d seen the look Hotch made. Knew that glint in his sad eyes.

“You’re my family too,” she’d whispered that night. Her fingers danced just along his chin and he hadn’t flinched, he’d been entirely lost by the sight of her. Giggling and poking his stomach when his only response was to look down at her. “Hate you sometimes,” she’d yawned, “but I like to keep you around. You’re nice and you smell good.”

It’s not what she’d want-- any of this-- but she’s not here to talk him down. That's the bitter part, she's the only person who could talk him down. The only person who seemed to speak through his irrational fear and anger. So it doesn’t matter.

He falls into what he knows.

Penance.

It tastes like the sand, salty and dry. A great never-ending expanse of nothing.

Hotch lets the motion of the Humvee settle him, going bonelessly with the great machine as it plows the road. Behind his sunglasses, arms tucked over his chest, and mouth set into a deep scowl he shuts his eyes. Tries to relax and to take a moment for just himself before he’s thrown back to work. This is entirely something new, different from home. Here they are not a team. Each person has a job and none of them talk to him, they don’t concern himself with him and he doesn’t bother trying with them. He just does his job and tries to hold on.

“Fucking hotter than Hell and half of Georgia,” JR curses, lifting his helmet to swipe at his brow.

Billy sits forward, settling his weight elbows on his knees. “JR,” he says seriously. “What in hillbilly hell does that even mean? I swear, they must have recruited you from some inbred town, didn’t they? Out here hardly able to read and--”

JR hits him hard, the sound jarring and Hotch doesn’t even open his eyes. He doesn’t need to see the two soldiers across from him to know exactly what’s happening. He clears his throat, “knock it off.” JR and Billy are nothing like Reid and Morgan but Hotch thinks about them nonetheless. About the jet and the air conditioners but mostly about Morgan’s relaxed handsome smile and Reid’s long thin legs stretched out for miles ahead of him. Their voices tangling in the late, calm nights into soft laughter.

He’s pulled roughly from his daydream, Billy’s voice breaking his mirage.

“Way to go you dumb fuck, woke up the old man.”

He wants to go home.

The Humvee rocks hard and these things are rough to ride in but there’s a distinct thing-- the hair on his arms stands up. Painfully so. He sits up. “Billy--” he never gets the chance.

He makes it three and a half months in Pakistan, trudging around the desert before the inevitable happens. He’s just a profiler surrounded by foot soldiers, every last one of them is expendable and that’s why the job is so dangerous. They can be replaced by cocky twenty-year-olds and they’ll just force a cadet to do his job. But nearly four months is damn near record-breaking. As the bare skin of his forearms burns in the harsh sun, his blood drying to his face, he wonders if Derek will be proud that he lasted so long. If Derek will know he did try to make it back home.

He tried.

“Hotchner!”

He moves, blood rushing to his head and he can’t hear anything past the sound of his own pounding heart. He pulls himself up on his elbows, choking on the thick smoke and wincing at the feeling of the hot flames licking out dangerously at him. Warning him to get away. He can’t see anything past the thick black smoke of the other Humvee. Nothing past the pool of blood around his left leg, gushing and flowing through the sand. He sees the mangled flesh, his eyes look and he knows and he recognizes the broken, mangled way his left leg sits in the sand but he says nothing. Does nothing.

He looks up to the soldier kicking up sand as she runs towards him. “JR and Billy,” he shouts, moving his left hand over his eyes so he can look in the direction of the soldier. “You need to find JR and--”

The woman, he can see her bun and her hooked nose. She’s only a kid and if he had to admit to liking any of them he’d be okay with naming her. Jamie shakes her head and he’s reminded that she’s just a fucking kid. Some twenty-year-old from a poor school district, too smart for this bullshit. “They’re dead,” she tells him, sinking to her knees in the sand. Her hands tremble, hovering to find a distinct place to hold. A way to stop his rapid blood loss before she’s left here entirely alone. She clamps over his leg and his vision goes black.

Gunshots wake him.

The night is encroaching, the smoke from the ruined Humvees still snaking into the clouds, and he can feel the temperature drop. Trembles, body weakly trying to stay warm. He peels his eyelashes open, caked in blood.

“Hotchner?” Jamie. He can’t open his mouth, his jaw cramped with shivers and convulsions while his body fights futility to keep him warm. He turns his head to see her. She’s pulled her helmet down over her head and she looks afraid. Drowsily, he feels her hands on him. It’s out of body like he’s not really there. “Medics are on their way,” she promises and he feels himself a rock, feels the chills, and her hands. The ground rocks and her attention snaps in the direction of the origin of the motion fear in her eyes as her breath quickens.

His eyes start to drop shut and she shakes him. Between pained hisses, breathless little pants, he’s glad he’s too weak, too tired to fight. Jamie won’t hear him whimper and writhe, he’s too far gone for that. Her palm presses to his cheek, “you have a son?” She knows he has a son. “Tell me about Jack,” she begs. “How old is he?”

He doesn’t even try.

He wishes he could apologize. She shouldn’t be so young. He hates he’s taking away measures of her innocence with each breath he struggles to draw in. The way he’s dying in her arms.

God, she’s so fucking young.

He blinks and the heat of the sun has been traded for the shade of a medic tent. A penlight makes its way across his face, attempting to draw his eyes to focus. With a groan tapering off into a pained moan he moves his hand, fingers just briefly tapping against the light. “Agent Hotchner?” The light burns his eyes but he cracks the left one open, just a sliver of the smoke agitated white of his eye to dart until he can find the doctor. “Agent,” the doctor frowns down at him waiting for Hotch to find him in the sea of movement and loud noises. “Agent Hotchner, you're going into respiratory arrest.” His lips are cyanic, parted limply as he fails to draw in deep breaths. Skin cold to the touch despite the flush creeping up his neck to suggest he might be warm. His brow and chest perspiring heavily, the area at the base of his neck sinking in with each quick, wheezing breath he pulls in.

“I’m going to lower the head of the cot and intu--” the doctor flinches as Hotch’s trembling, cold fingers wrap around his wrist. The Supervisory Special Agent’s lips move but no words come out, just the cracked sound of dry lips touching but the doctor knows well enough what he’s saying. “Agent,” the doctor takes his hand, moving the fingers from their tight grip on his wrist to his own. “Your breathing is rapid and shallow, it’s no longer sustaining your body. It’s why you can’t speak.” The doctor squeezes Hotch’s hand, “you’re tachycardic, your heart is beating too quickly. If you’re not intubated this problem will not abate on its own.” They’re playing with time here, just waiting until his breathing is agonal or stops entirely.

Hotch shakes his head, lips cracking as he gasps. He needs to know where Jamie is.

But they are Army docs and their job has nothing to do with his hesitation. With his preoccupations.

A doctor with long, cold fingers tilts his neck back. Manipulating his jaw open. Aaron looks up at the younger man, vision spotting as the drugs in his body take effect. He’s lost, drowning in memories of years far away. The water crashes over his head, inky black tendrils wrapping around his ankles to dunk him back down.

He thinks of Spencer Reid. Standing in his kitchen with the genius leaning close. The soft, familiar weight of his voice mumbling through Hotch’s weary bones. The way he can nearly hear him now, recall the exact sounds of his voice and that distinct little sway and playful patter of Spencer’s body when he’s happy. Hotch has never been an excellent or even very good cook but he always tries and he remembers the day in question Spencer had come over to learn how to cook pasta. Spencer hates sauces, tomato-based ones are too acidic but he also just doesn’t like the consistencies. So Hotch had spent hours looking for the perfect recipe.

He thinks about Penelope Garcia. The very first time she got sick and he found her crying in her office, trying to soothe her ailments with over-the-counter products. Having convinced herself that he’d send her to prison in a heartbeat for missing a single day. A few weeks before the whole Doyle incident, she’d come into his office two hours late for a meeting they were supposed to have. A cookie in one hand and a coffee in the other to butter him and then attempt to distract him. Even asked about a doctor’s appointment she had to have hacked into some database to have known he had that morning. Things change…

They change so quickly.

Two federal agents leave home.

Only one comes back.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner

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smediumsmeatbae · 4 years ago

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Relief

PAIRING: Ari Levinson x Reader WORDS: 936 SUMMARY: You and Ari have two different ways to relieve tension before a mission WARNINGS: male masturbation, mentions of female masturbation, swearing, hoe thoughts A/N: This is part one to a two part story. Don’t worry, I’m not gonna leave y’all hanging like that. :D This is the first time writing Ari and hopefully I did right by him. I’ll probably be able to get into his character a little more in the second part. This is another entry for the #shamelesshoesforchris challenge, hosted by @navybrat817 and @stargazingfangirl18. I used the prompts: accidentally seeing the other naked and “Oh my god, I think this might be the most humiliating moment of my life, and I really just want to die right now.” Please do not repost my work without permission Likes are amazing. Comments and reblogs are better. Tags will be in a reblog. Hope you enjoy!

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The sun set low on the coast of Sudan as the waves lapped gently at your feet. It was finally cooling off a bit after a blistering hot day. You were getting prepared for the night run with Ari and you liked to have time to yourself, getting your mind at peace before the anxiety and terror of smuggling would take place.

You began to think about before you landed in Sudan. Before Ari came into your life. Before he talked you into moving halfway around the world to smuggle refugees back to Israel. He was good like that. You had been happily stuck in normality. Normal kids, normal job, normal husband. Far away were you from the deep undercover OPS jobs of your past. You were blissfully retired. Or so you thought until you caught your normal husband normally screwing his normal secretary in your normal bed. Then, normal seemed like the furthest thing from what you wanted. When Ari came to you with an offer to cleanse yourself of that life, to start over new, to bury yourself in another identity, you couldn't help but jump at the chance.

You were grateful that you were there, even if the situation was brutal. And you were grateful that Ari was there as well. He was different than when you last saw him years ago. You guys were just starting out in the field together, dodging bullets and getting shit done. He was so optimistic, so hopeful. You couldn't tell enthusiasm like that no. Ari didn't know the meaning of it. While not much had changed since then and now, he was still dodging bullets, but now he had a sobering demeanor about him. He had been fighting bureaucracy and policy for so long, it had started to wane on him, giving him an edge that had not existed before. You liked it. Admittedly, he was also more in shape then when you last saw him. The tiny swim trunks that he wore didn't leave a lot to the imagination. He was never a scrawny guy but he was definitely not as built or as tan as when you last saw him. It suited him. He looked good. You had secretly thought many times about how his beard would feel between your thighs as you touched yourself at night.

The sun was getting lower and it was time for you to see if you could help with the night preparations. You also needed to see if the guests needed anything for the night so that your team would not be disturbed. Walking back up to the resort, shoes in hand, you saw the staff setting up for the bonfire that would be going on tonight. It would serve to be the perfect wind down after your mission. You couldn't wait to get back to that- relaxing on the beach, hearing the waves lap in, and watching the fire dance for you.

Walking into the resort, you went to Ari's room to see what needed to be done. You may not have been paying attention, may not have been thinking clearly, but you didn't seem to notice the low noises that were coming from the bedroom. You also didn't care to knock. You two had become so familiar within these past few weeks that knocking may have taken a backseat for you. Once you entered and took a look at the sight before you, you had desperately wished you had knocked. There Ari was: legs splayed out on the bed, back relaxed on the headboard, eyes closed in pleasure, stroking his cock in one hand while he played with his balls in the other. His mouth was opened and breathing heavily, totally blissed out. He looked like he was close. You quickly turned away to try to save some semblance of privacy and to hide the deep crimson that was on your cheeks.

"Oh shit!" You heard Ari yelp out as he worked frantically to find anything to cover himself but you'd seen everything. "I'm so sorry, Ari!" You stammered, trying to look at anything else in the room except for his raging hard on. "I… just needed to see if you were ready?" "Yeah." He snapped out with an angry tone."Can you get out now?" "Of course! Again, I'm so sor--." "Out!"

You had never moved your feet so fast as you slammed the door behind you. Apparently Ari had his own way of relieving tension before the mission. You liked a walk on the beach and Ari liked stroking that massive tree trunk between his legs. No! Get your mind out of the gutter! You yelled at yourself. You had just walked in on the man in a very intimate position and you were ogling him? But dear lord… think of the things you could do to each other if that was what he was working with.

“Oh my god, I think this might be the most humiliating moment of my life, and I really just want to die right now.” You mumbled to yourself.

You sighed and blew out a breath, trying to let the thoughts go out of you. Could you die of embarrassment? You were probably going to test that theory that night. This was not the head space you wanted to be in going on a mission. There was nothing to do about it now, just be a professional and do the best you can.

That thought didn't really help though as you knew you would be in a truck with him. Alone. For the next hour.

God help you.

#shamelesshoesforchris #ari levinson #ari levinson fanfiction #the red sea diving resort #ari levinson x reader #ari levinson smut #ari levinson x you #ari levinson x y/n #chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fandom #chris evans smut

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dreamsofzane · 3 years ago

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Origins

It was 2009. The end of my senior year in high school. As per tradition, once I received my yearbook, I carried it around daily so that teachers, friends, and anyone else who felt like it could sign the back and crystalize their presence in my life.

We were all stepping out into the relative unknown. I guess I just had to be deep, so I used my yearbook photo caption as a declaration of how I saw myself and who I wanted to become in the world.

I can do the impossible, rise above the insurmountable, and reach the unreachable through Christ who strengthens me. It was was an adaptation of a scripture used in a song by Myron Butler.

When our yearbooks were printed, a friend of mine said something like, wow Ezra I saw your yearbook quote and it was all spiritual and serious. You're so crazy, I thought you would have put something wild in there.

I probably laughed, pondered on the sentiment for a bit, then tucked it away. But I never forgot it.

This moment was one of the first distinct times someone not only saw me clearly, but also perceived and verbalized the dilemma I existed in. It was a mirror moment for me. During that time I felt like I was straddling two conflicting worlds. And I so desperately wanted to fully belong to both. At home, I was a good Pentecostal storefront church boy in every sense of the word. I didn't see myself as just a church-goer. It was the essence of my life. It shaped my worldview. I was saved, and I yearned to be Holy Ghost filled. I barely had earthly aspirations. All I saw in my future was singing worship music. Maybe I'd go to Bible college and join a mega church's payroll, sing behind Israel Houghton, or somehow join Tye Tribbet & GA. Side-note for all my singers - that in itself was a pipe dream because to this day I am not a tenor, and back then even Tye's tenors were actually altos, very high-key.

On the other side of my double life, I secretly bagged my first real boyfriend right when I got baptized after freshman year. I loved all the secular music I wasn't supposed to be listening to. And just about every other joke that I made at school was something risqué and raunchy. That's how people outside of my family and church knew me.

I never really felt like I could be a whole person. I had no concept of what that meant. There was righteousness, and sin. Being in the world, but not of it. My feelings, my flesh – those were in conflict with God, and my job was to pick up my cross and deny everything else.

And baybee – those feelings?! My hormones were on fire and I wanted all the boys in my yard, watering my grass with milkshakes of every flavor. Because you know, high school was a diverse landscape. But if I didn't deny what I was feeling, back then I believed I would be riding the most lusciously, engorged, divinely-crafted – lawnmower, straight into Lucifer's hot burning bush as a result.

Over time the pressure to deny myself, built up so much that I had to leave the church and explore on my own. The years that followed felt solitary, ungrounded, and confusing to say the least. But I just had to allow myself to feel those things. And I'm so glad I did. I have to take a moment here to thank Bilal's All Matter & Who Are You, Erykah's Didn't Cha Know, and the movie Prayers for Bobby, for collectively forming a prayer circle around me during 2011-2012.

I could be projecting, but it's quite likely that the church adjacent boyfriends I've had over the years all lived with an unspoken heartbreak about having to either sever ties or awkwardly maneuver through their families of origin – families that were often times deeply religious, and thus explicitly, violently, and traumatically opposed our ability to even acknowledge our queerness – let alone claim it. But not one person I encountered who felt familiar to me (a trauma bond sort of familiar) seemed to really know what they were doing in earnest. Nor were they able to speak on it in full. Something always felt unreconciled. We were all young and unsure.

Ironically enough it was a moment during a church service that changed my life, affirmed me spiritually, and assured me that I had to leave the very home that raised me ideologically. More on this later.

What I will say now is that as hedonistic, irreverent, ignorant, or lost as I may appear to some – I was guided to where I am today. Perhaps because I opened myself up to it, the spirit world made itself known to me both within the settings I grew up in, and without.

I am the living result of generations of endurance. Love, grace and wisdom find their way to me. From the continent, to the island, to the concrete, through the altar call, through the divination. Somehow I continue to be found day by day.

BUT FIRST I HAD TO GET VERY LOST OKAY?!

Happy 30th Birthday to me!

Until next time – peace.

#happy birthday #30th

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inosuketingz · 5 years ago

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the sheets are stained with blood [p.4]

PART ONE PART TWO PART THREE [ PART FOUR ] Victor Zsasz x fem!Reader Warning: language, violence, blood and BOP spoilers Word Count: 1687 Tag: @itsknife2meetu @yourlocalghoul @im-just-one-of-the-avengers @fillechatoyante A/N: im sososoosossososos sorry this took so damn long I promise u guys my reasoning wasn’t too bad, i just got busy with school and then right after became really unmotivated w/ the blm movement. as a black woman, it has always affected me a lot and i really couldn’t stop stressing over it for weeks. of course im still stressed over the protests and stuff, but i did want to get back to writing. if it makes you guys feel any better, you guys are getting your guts rearranged in the next part.

“Holy shit!” You yell the minute the quarrel crashes into he window. It lands only inches away from your face, too short to reach it. And whoever shot the arrow knows that. They aren’t trying to kill you. They only want your attention.

“Since when did Hyunwoo have shooters?” You ask. For the most part, you know Hyunwoo was a very independent person when it came to the shady business he dabbled in. He was never the type to have any guard dogs.

Victor shakes his head, forcing his car door open at a frantic speed. “They’re not with him.”

You narrow your eyes, searching for anything in the distance. There’s a flash of purple within the trees next to Hyunwoo’s house and you look over to Zsasz. He’s standing in the open, a grim look on his face.

“Zsasz, get back in the fucking car before you get shot in the forehead!” You bark your order.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” he replies and you sigh in annoyance, slamming your head back into your seat’s headrest. Dealing with him was like dealing with a four year old. You reach into your pocket for the Blood Pendant. If he won’t do what you say voluntarily, you’ll just have to force him. But, when you dig through the fabric, you realize it’s gone.

You glance toward him and see the silver chain hanging out of the back pocket of his cargo pants. That sneaky asshole. You didn’t even notice when he managed to snag it off you.

“Victor Zsasz!” A feminine voice calls out. It echoes around you and you have no clue where to look. You slip out of the car, mentally readying yourself for any of the spells you can conjure.

Zsasz looks even angrier now, his face is painted red with fury.

“Get back in the car!” You try to advise him. You have no clue why you’re so concerned with his safety.

“No, I want to kill these bitches by myself.” He pulls his token knife from his pocket, the one you’ve seen referenced all over the news with his murders.

As he toys with the sharp edge of the blade, you sigh. “No offense, but I don’t think your tiny ass knife stands a chance against a bitch with a crossbow.”

Behind you two, there is a soft crunch of leaves as someone takes a step closer. Like partners in a waltz, you and Victor whirl around. His grip on the knife’s handle grows tighter and you can feel your power tingling at your fingertips.

“Hi, Zsasz.” The two of you face a young black woman, her blonde hair styled in loose locs. You can’t help but notice how pretty she is, despite the cocky grin on her face indicating she wouldn’t hesitate knocking the both of you out cold. “Since when did you start working with the Night Hex?”

“We’re not working together,” You shoot back. “Which is why I think it’s in our best interest that I leave, and let you two hash it out.” You begin to take a step back, ready to bolt out of sigh, when you feel a cold metal against your neck. It’s something sharp, and you hiss as it slightly stabs into your skin.

“Yeah I don’t think so,” A feminine voice behind you says. You look over your shoulder and see her standing there with a crossbow in her hand. She nudges the crossbow closer to your face and you flinch back. “Consider yourself guilty by association.”

Another woman approaches you and you roll your eyes. “God, there’s more of you?”

“Yes. And it looks like you guys are outnumbered.” She mocks you, her inner-city accent evident.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fucking fuck. These are those Birds of Prey chicks aren’t they? And you remember hearing somebody say they had something to do with Roman Sionis’s death. That’s why Victor looks so pissed.

This isn’t fair. You came to Gotham to relax, and stir away from any of those fuckers in spandex that swear they’re vigilanties. But of course the second you decide to make some hard-earned money, you suddenly have these little birds on your ass.

The one with the crossbow sidewalks to stand in front of the pair of you and turns slightly to aim the weapon at Zsasz. “You’re supposed to be dead,” she tells him flatly. The other two birds step back, seemingly to let her at him. Your mind flashes back to the ugly scar on Victor’s neck. It’s shaped perfectly for a crossbow. Whatever Victor had with these women, it seems to be about more than just his dead boyfriend. “You’re supposed to be dead, like the rest of those sons of bitches,” she insists. Her voice cracks as she says this, and her eyes grow wet.

“And yet, I’m not.” Zsasz practically growls. The words came from deep within his chest. His rough hands twirl the knife between his fingers, anticipating what is to come.

The air is thick with tension, and you are standing in the midst of it all. Times like this are when you especially become grateful for your witchcraft.

A beat passes before Zsasz lashes. He raises the knife, aiming for her face. It’s almost like time slows down for you as you notice the woman’s finger reach for the trigger. You rush to latch onto Victor’s empty hand and close your eyes, picturing your small apartment in as vivid detail as possible. You whisper in Hebrew a teleportation spell you learned in Israel that translates to “Bring me there.”

It hardly ever works. Time after time you’ve tried to disappear mid-fight with Wonder Woman, only for you to remain where you are and get her fist in your face. The fact that you’re trying to do it with two people is insane, and you would’ve called yourself an idiot for even considering it any other time. However, for some odd reason, you can’t fathom this encounter ending with a bow down Victor’s throat.

You’re not sure if you managed it or not until you hear Victor mutter “What the fuck?” and you hear the hum from your studio’s A/C kicking on. You let out an audible sigh of relief and let go of Zsasz’s hand. Your moment of relaxation is cut short when he shoves his hard hands against your shoulders, causing you to stumble back. Out of instinct, you step forward and swing your fist at him, but he ducks back.

“What the fuck did you do!?” He yells so loud that you’re sure the entire floor hears him. “I was going to fucking kill her! Are you stupid?”

It takes you a minute to process his words. You just saved his life and he has the nerve to be mad at you? “Are you stupid?” You echo, your voice even louder than his. “She was holding a fucking crossbow, dumbass! She would have killed you long before you could even lay a hand on her! You should be thanking me, you piece of shit!”

He brings his knife to your neck and you clench your teeth, expecting him to bark some new insults your way. Instead, he swallows down and digs his hand into your pocket to take out the keys. “I’m taking these to Hernando myself. Do whatever the fuck you want.” And with that, he turns to the door to leave.

But you’re not going to let this argument go down so easily. With his back now turned to you, you push him, and he stumbles a bit. “And when you’re done with that, leave me the fuck alone! Stay as far away from me as possible, and deal with the bounty the Birds of Prey have on you by yourself!”

He stares at you from over his shoulder as you wait for an answer. Adrenaline rushes through your veins as you hype yourself up for a fight with him, but Zsasz already looks like he’s calmed down. “Go drink some water, you look like you’re gonna pop a vein.” And then he turns and leaves.

Your face twists as your door slams shuts, the million words you wanted to throw at him still tingling at your tongue.

~~~

Hot water hits your back and you yawn. It took you an hour to finally calm down, but when you did you ordered some pizza and watched TV for the rest of the day. You aren’t too sure how long Hernando wants you to work on this expedition with him, but when it’s all over you’ve decided you're ditching Gotham.

The first few months here have been peaceful, sure, but too many dangerous people know that you’re here. Your little vacation spot has been ruined. So, you’ll probably head somewhere else, like Orlando or Los Angeles. Maybe you’d move to a small town without any crime-fighting heroes, and live out your Hallmark-movie romantic fantasy after all.

Whichever it’ll be, you’re sure it’s not anywhere near this city. Or Boston, either.

You scrub your body with a soapy loofah to make sure all the dirt is off your body. After a few more minutes you finally turn the water off and pull a towel over your body. Something about Victor Zsasz drains the energy out of you. After all your encounters with him, you remember always feeling beyond tired by the end of it.

Whatever it is, it’ll be gone once you leave Gotham.

You lotion yourself and apply your facial creams, pulling on your panties and an oversized shirt you sleep in in the process, all before slipping into your bedroom.

Your room is oddly quiet, the hum of the TV you normally keep on muted and your fan turned off. You flip on the light switch and freeze at the sight before you.

Victor Zsasz waits for you at the end of your bed. The sheets are stained with blood and you can practically smell the reek of death coming from him. He looks at you with those fake innocent eyes as he says a soft, “Hey.”

#victor zsasz #victor zsasz x you #victor zsasz imagine #victor zsasz x reader #Chris Messina #chris messina x reader #Birds of Prey #birds of prey and the fantabulous emancipation of one harley quinn #BOP #bop zsasz #im srry this took so long :(

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dailyaudiobible · 4 years ago

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04/19/2021 DAB Transcript

Joshua 19:1-20:9, Luke 19:28-48, Psalms 88:1-18, Proverbs 13:12-14

Today is the 19th day of April welcome to the Daily Audio Bible I'm Brian it is a joy and a privilege and an honor every day to come around this Global Campfire together, take the next step forward and move our way into and through all of the weeks that we get to share. And, so, let's dive in. We’re reading from the New Living Translation this week. We’re in the book of Joshua and as I mentioned…I think it was yesterday…we’ll be concluding the book of Joshua during this week. Right now, in the book of Joshua the…the different allotments of land are being divided up for the tribes of Israel to live in, in this land of promise. So, we continue that story. Joshua chapters 19 and 20.

Commentary:

Okay. So, in the gospel of Luke, Jesus is making His…well…His final journey to Jerusalem where He will be arrested and we…we kinda know how this story will go in general. And once again, I remind us that we come through this territory and then we move beyond the Gospels and we move beyond this territory and what comes next. And, so, it's really important while we’re walking alongside Jesus that we really embrace…really embraces as much of it as we can. So, today something really, really sad, really sad, actually there’s a place that commemorates this…this spot. So, Jesus has walked from the Galilee down into the Jordan Valley where it's…it's…it's…it's downhill. And, so, it's flat there and they can kind of move around a little easier. It’s a more direct path that ends up in Jericho. And then from Jericho, because they’ve moving south, from Jericho they have to than turn eastward and upward. So, it's an 18- mile climb from Jericho to Jerusalem, and it's all uphill the whole way. So, Jerusalem sits at the high points. So, you can only…you can only go up to Jerusalem, which is why you hear that in the Scriptures and why…why you may have heard that in the past, up to Jerusalem. For example, even in the…in the Psalms, there are the Psalms of Ascent the Psalms, the songs that will be sung on the way uphill up to Jerusalem. So, this is a totally uphill, pretty treacherous walk that Jesus has to take, and the pathway is essentially following the Kedron Valley. And the Kedron valley is in the Bible. So, it's a geographical landmark that runs right through Jerusalem actually separating the Mount of Olives from like Mount Zion or where the temple was or where the Temple Mount is out today. And, so, the Mount of Olives is a pretty big hill and runs along and their villages on etc. etc. And, so, we see Jesus passing through some of those villages and getting this colt. And as it's told in the gospel of Luke once they crest the Mount of Olives and begin to come down the downward side, into Jerusalem Jesus starts to cry and it's really really sad. There is a place. You can walk down the Mount of olives kind of following the ancient road. It doesn’t look anything like an ancient road now. It looks on one side like a massive, massive graveyard where people are buried awaiting resurrection and just different compounds that are on the Mount of Olives while you walk your way down. And there's a place called Dominus Flevit, which is Latin, which means “the Lord wept.” And there’s a Byzantine chapel there. I belie a crusader era, small little chapel there. But from there you can look down upon the Temple Mount and you sort of can see what that view would’ve been like. That would’ve been the quintessential view of looking out over Jerusalem and kind of cresting Mount of Olives and seeing the temple of God there. And Jesus begins to weep. He says, “how I wish today that you of all people would understand the way to peace, but now it's too late. Peace is hidden from your eyes.” And then He goes on to talk about how it would all get tore down. Here's…here's the situation. We’re in the book of Joshua now in the Old Testament, right? So, we've gone through the Torah, the formation of a people set apart to be a nation of priests to bless the whole world and we've gone through their struggles and how quickly and how often they lose sight of their purpose of the main story, right, and get lost in the subplots of their own lives and where that leads them and how we had a wander in the wilderness because the wilderness journey, this…the message of the wilderness hadn't been learned. And, so, now we get to cross the Jordan River and seen the conquest and now the division of the land and the assignment of the land to the people. These are the set a…set apart ones, the chosen people. And their capital city, as we will read from the time of King David, forward will be Jerusalem. The very first temple, like the very first permanent temple, not a Tabernacle that's portable and moving around, but a permanent fixture, a building is in Jerusalem, the temple of God, the place where the people come to commune with God, the place where they believe communication happens between God and people. So, Jesus who is God incarnate, right, who was incarnated into human flesh and dwelt among us as one of us participating in the human story and in the human condition, God with human eyes crests the Mount of Olives and this place, this…this what He…what He sees is His temple, the temple made for the worship and communion with God among the people set aside and set apart as holy to be a nation of priests to remind the world who God is. God's cresting the Mount of Olives and looking down on the entire enterprise and God begins to weep about it. Like, that’s the magnitude of what we’re seeing here. “How I wish that you of all people would understand the way to peace”, right? So, here's God who’s walked through all of the things we’re reading about in the Torah and in Joshua and everything else that we’re going to read for the rest of this year in the Old Testament. This same God who is the lead these people is about to be killed by His own people, His own creation. His own creation will reject Him on religious grounds. So, He's crying about it. It’s sad and He speaks prophetically. “Before long your enemies will build ramparts against your walls and encircle you and close in on you from every side. They will crush you into the ground and your children with you. Your enemies will not leave a single stone in place because you did not recognize it when God visited you.” Ah…and the thing is, we’ve talked many times about what…what the Hebrew people of the first century were looking for when they were thinking about a coming Messiah. They were looking for a righteous anointed one certainly, one that would communicate the ways of the Lord and bring people together with the intention of revolt, of cleansing the land of the Romans, and everyone else and restoring it back to God. And Jesus, God in flesh came saying. “the kingdom that you're looking for isn't coming at all. The kingdom of God is already here already among you already within you already underway. Do you not see it? Can you not perceive it? Do not have eyes to see? Do you not have ears to hear?” And they just couldn't get on board with that. That's not what the Messiah's gonna do. The Messiah’s gonna…gonna overthrow Rome and this Jesus, He might get a mob together but it's only gonna get us in trouble. And, so, we know how the story goes. Jesus was betrayed, Jesus was crucified, they thought they had gotten rid of Him. So, a little bit later, like within the next 50 years-ish from this moment where Jesus crests the Mount of Olives and weeps they decide they have their Messiah. They decide to rise up and revolt. They all do get together and…and…and do revolt against Rome and they do take over for a brief period of time of a couple of years. And this is interspersed in the story of the great fortress, the great Herodian fortress Masada, where this rebellion at least traditionally is understood to have ended because although they did take over and although they did mint their own coins and although they did have some autonomy there for a couple of years, Rome the Empire, basically got the forces of the Empire together and sailed for Jerusalem and when they got there they were merciless and they destroyed Jerusalem utterly, tearing down the temple of God, destroying Jerusalem completely and forbidding Hebrew people to even enter the ruins of the city. And then they rebuilt it and then let Jews go in. So, Jesus is crying about what's gonna happen and He's crying about how it didn't have to happen. And I mean this helps us enter the story greatly, to just see the emotion of God, God who came for us, God among us, God with us, Emmanuelle being rejected. Also gives us an opportunity to think about how many times we decided by force by own will and strength we’re going to make God's will happen, that we’re just going to jump out here because we know what's supposed to happen and we’re gonna go make that happen when it's not, when God's not in it as was the case in the story that we are in and the gospel of Luke.

Prayer:

Jesus, we invite you into this. We enter into this story again. It…it tears our hearts to think of you standing there weeping, weeping over what might've been, what could have been. But it was too late and we have to wonder in our own lives, how many times that you’ve been a gentleman and patiently waited and watched us and what could have been if we hadn't gone our own way. And, so, forgive us Lord. We repent, we return to you and ask Holy Spirit to continue to illuminate the narrow path that leads to life that we might walk it pray this in the name of Jesus. Amen.

Announcements:

dailyaudiobible.com is home base, it's the website, it’s where you find out what's going on around here. I say it every day because this journey is…is so much better together than it is trying to spend the whole year and through the whole Bible alone. It makes a difference that we are in this together and that we know we’re in this together. So, check it out.

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Check out the Community section. This is where the Prayer Wall lives. We can always reach out for prayer. We can always reach back through prayer toward each other. And, so, be aware of that.

If you want to partner with the Daily Audio Bible, if the mission which is to bring the spoken word of God read fresh every day and given freely to anyone who will listen to it anywhere on this planet any time of day or night, that is, if that's life-giving than thank you for your partnership. There is a link on the homepage at dailyaudiobible.com. If you’re using the Daily Audio Bible app you can press the Give button in the upper right-hand corner or the mailing address is PO Box 1996 Spring Hill Tennessee 37174.

And, as always, if you have a prayer request or encouragement, you can hit the Hotline button in the app, which is the little red button up at the top or you can dial 877-942-4253.

And that's it for today on Brian. I love you and I'll be waiting for you here tomorrow.

Community Prayer and Praise:

Good morning DABber family this is the Burning Bush that will not be Devoured for the Glory of our God and our King. Today I listened to the reading from proverbs speaking of the sluggard who desires but doesn't get what he desires because he's lazy. And…and then it speaks of the diligent who gets abundance just due the hard work. And I know this sounds like something so simple and it's like…dah… right? But I am struggling in certain areas of my life, certain things, certain projects, personal projects that have been placed on the back burner of my life. Dreams deferred, you know, due to, some barriers that were thrown in my way in life in general. And not to get too too deep into this but when I heard that it really hit hard. And, so, I just want to share this with you guys. It is a prayer request but it's also sort of encouragement, that, you know, some of us have had some traumas in life that has caused us to be discouraged and caused us to forsake some projects and plans and ambitious desires in our lives. And I just want to say to all of us that dreams deferred make the heart sick but be encouraged because the Lord who has started a good thing in us, He is faithful to complete it. He is faithful to complete it. And I pray that God will remind me of this every single morning that I wake, that I am a word of God…

Morning everybody. It's God's Smile here. It's a lovely still day outside. There's some lovely clouds and the sky is a nice pale blue. I've got some tomato plants growing on my windowsill. There absolutely wonderful to watch them grow. They’re growing so fast. You know, they’re growing 10 millimeters each day. How awesome is that? I'll soon be able to put them out. But my dad was a farmer and he used to say never doubt when May is out and especially here in England. We can get snow in May even, which it doesn't usually last very long but still it's enough to kill off the seedlings isn't it? So, I just wanted to thank everybody who rings in with encouragement and prayer, what's on their heart, and singing songs. I get ministered to so often. Sometimes it's just one word and other times it's just everything that that person was saying. I can see in the…in my mind's eye and God does something beautiful doesn’t He? I'm sure you guys will experience that too. What a wonderful bloody ministry we have to reach each other and pray for someone else and that knock on effect touches so many in our obedience to love and care and pray for someone. I’m just…I'm just so thankful. I'm thankful to be sat up in the morning again because it's been a bit tough of late. I was starting to get up a couple mornings a week and that fell by the wayside. Time's ticking. I've been rappiting on, haven’t I? I'm going to send my love. This is God’s Smile here with a big yes.

Hi, it's Donna from California and just finished Wednesday night Bible study and prayer group and got some very shocking news. A lady at our church, we have a small church, took her life and left behind her husband and her 12-year-old, I think she's about 12-year-old, her daughter. And I am…I'm just absolutely in shock. I…I can't even imagine this person doing that. And I know that there's been prayer requests lately in our community concerning people who have loved ones who’ve taken their lives and people who are maybe pondering that as well as...and I…I just…I…I really don't know…I…I don't know what to say about it. I…I pray. Please join me in prayer for this family for this grieving husband and their…their daughter and our church. I didn't know her that well. I just know that she was a bright, beautiful, vibrant woman with a strong faith. And it's leaving a void in my heart. So, I can only imagine what it must be for her husband and her daughter. I'm…I'm just so sorry. I didn't know. I didn't know what kind of pain she must have been in.

[singing starts] Beloved let us love one another for love is of God and everyone I loveth is born of God and knoweth God he loveth not knoweth not God for God is love beloved let us love one another. First John 4:7 and 8 [singing stops]. O, Brian what a wonderful sermon this morning. That is so true. The Kingdom of God is within us. We've got to let his love out. We gotta live his love show. Father I just worship you this morning. Bless your people today. Let us show love amongst ourselves and everywhere we go let our light so shine before men that they see our good works and glorify you. O, Yeshua is within us people. Let us love one another. Everyone that we come in contact with is our neighbor. What a wonderful thing this morning Brian. That was so wonderful. It touched my heart so much. Thank You, Father. Thank You Yeshua. Have a wonderful day fellow DABbers. I love you and I pray for all of you everywhere. Yeshua’s mighty name. Amen.

Hey DABbers, all around the world this is Sam from Spain and I'm just so thankful and so grateful for your prayers and walking together through the wonderful stories of the Bible. And I am praising God for all the men that have been praying for their wives who I am joining you in praying for your wives. I think it's so encouraging, the number of men that ask for prayers for their wives. And thank you. It's wonderful. Bless each and every one of them and Lord strengthen the spiritual forces of each of those husbands Lord so they can continue loving and interceding for their wives in the name of the Lord Jesus. Amen.

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saturrn-writes · 4 years ago

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Fighting For You (TonyxZiva)

A/N: This takes place in the middle of S11E2 “Past, Present, and Future”; Tony has just found Ziva in Israel, they share a tender moment in the olive grove and then things get *spicy*

I have also posted this fic on AO3. Please do not claim my work as your own.

Rating: M for smut, fluff, language, slow-ish burn

TW// language, sexual content, arguing, blood (not sexual), mentions of pregnancy

Word Count: 7244

Ziva rested her forehead against Tony’s. “I’m fighting for you, Ziva,” he whispered, his voice breaking. She sighed.

“I know.” She didn’t know what else to say. The tenderness of the moment hung between them like branches around them in the olive grove. She and Tony had been coworkers for years, but there had always been something more between them. The night of the car accident, she had been trying to tell him she loved him. She never had a chance that night, and there never seemed to be a good time. If she said something now, she was afraid of ruining the moment completely, afraid of losing Tony forever. Deep down, she was more afraid of what might happen if she let herself be too vulnerable with him, what would happen if he loved her back.

“Ziva,” Tony repeated, his voice barely audible. He felt frozen in time, like he was standing on the edge of a cliff and one false move would send him plummeting to the bottom of the ravine below. He had fallen hard for the Israeli beauty, but he was never quite sure how she felt about him. After the NCIS attack and their trip to Berlin the two had grown closer, but the amount of unspoken tension between them was confusing. He loved her, wanted to tell her, but he was also incredibly physically attracted to her and wasn’t sure if it was truly more than that. Spending time with her in close quarters made him jumpy, desperate to touch her. Her fighting, dominant nature turned him on, but in this moment he wanted to take things slow and gentle. He had told her she wasn’t alone, and he needed her to understand that he meant it.

“Tony.” That one word was heavy with emotion, longing, tinged with a sharp sensuality that made his heart flutter and his pulse start racing. He had been shot at, kidnapped, and tortured during his tenure as an agent but this was the most afraid he had ever been. That maybe she felt the same way, wanted him the same way. Ziva reached a hand up to his cheek, thumbing the short beard he had grown in since Cairo. Her eyes caught his in an intense stare and he tried not to blink, scared the moment would be over or that it was all his imagination.

Ziva watched his eyes, watched him swallow in anticipation. She had never been afraid of anything, but this was different. This could change everything, and she didn’t know if it would be for better or for worse. She took a breath to steady herself, then swiftly closed the distance between them.

His beard was scratchy on her face, but his lips were soft, firm against her own. He grabbed her face in his hands, not wanting to let her go. Her arms wrapped around him, pulling him toward her, kissing him with an unbridled hunger that lit his blood on fire. He shifted his hands to wrap them in her wild hair and she moaned softly into the kiss. The sound spurred him on, biting at her lower lip. Not one to back down from any kind of fight, Ziva bit back, running her tongue along Tony’s lip with a smile as he opened his mouth in surprise. His hands began to wander under the hem of her shirt, desperate for closer contact. Ziva finally pulled back, leaving her hands at the back of his neck.

“That was…” she trailed off.

“Yeah. Um.” Tony let go off her shirt. “I’m sorry.”

“No, I am sorry. I should not have done that.” Reluctantly, she let him go. “I know we no longer work together, but we should not be doing this. Not here, not now.” She sighed. “Everything is upside down and sideways.”

“It’s upside down and backwards, David,” Tony corrected quietly, smiling faintly at the Israeli. “But I know what you mean.” He checked his watch. “Are you hungry? Because I’m starving.”

Ziva chuckled. “You have not changed at all, have you?”

“Guess not.”

They walked back to the house in silence, hands barely touching. The truth was that they had both changed, but it was easier to pretend that they were the same as they had been when they first met. “There is not much food in the house, but we will make do,” Ziva informed him as she shut the front door behind them. She followed him to the kitchen, glancing out of the windows to check their surroundings. “It is all clear. I do not anticipate unwanted company, but if you can find me so can someone else.” She secured her gun back in its holster and shut the curtains at the kitchen window. Light still peaked through, but the olive grove was now a green haze through the white material. Tony was standing in front of the pantry with his arms crossed.

“You weren’t kidding when you said you weren’t planning on having company. Any chance we can order a pizza or something?” He turned to face her. She was watching him intently, taking in the strong shape of him. He looked exhausted but happy, and she felt herself relax for the first time in weeks.

“No pizza, but there is tomato and cucumber salad in the fridge. There might be some couscous in the pantry still. I need to get more supplies.”

“Sit down, I’ll cook.” Tony went back to rifling through the odds and ends in the pantry and cabinets. While Ziva watched from her perch at the table, Tony made the couscous and opened the container of tomato and cucumber salad. “It’s not much, but it’s a meal,” he said finally, placing a bowl in front of Ziva and setting one at the place across from her.

“Thank you, Tony.” She poked at the couscous with a fork. “I know that I told you coming here was a mistake, but I am glad you did.”

“I meant what I said at the airport before. You are not alone. I’ve always been here for you. I know we’ve had our moments and I know that it’s hard for you to trust anyone, but I’ll always be here for you no matter what. I promise.”

“I know,” she replied, not quite meeting his eyes. “And I believe you. But there are still so many pieces I must put back together. I buried my father months ago, but I feel as though I am still burying him. I do not know if there are still people after me, and I am tired of running.”

Tony reached his hand across the table and took hers, tracing his thumb over her knuckles. “You don’t have to run anymore. You don’t have to keep hiding and looking over your shoulder. You can breathe easy, Ziva, at least for now.”

She let out a shaky breath, finally meeting Tony’s eyes. “What about Gibbs?”

“I feel bad for lying to him, but I understand why you didn’t want me to tell him I found you yet. You’ll have to talk to him eventually, though.”

“Perhaps.”

They ate their meal in silence, listening to the sounds of nature filtering through the windows. It was peaceful here, and part of Tony wanted to hide out here with Ziva forever. Just the two of them, making up for every missed moment they could have shared over the years.

“I forgot about the wine,” Ziva said finally, pushing up from the table and gathering the dishes. “Would you like some?”

“Uh, sure.” Tony got up too, running water in the sink and reaching for a sponge while she poured two glasses of red wine. “You got any movies out here in the Israel boonies?” Tony asked as he took one of the glasses from Ziva.

“No, sorry. We do not even have a T.V.” She sipped her wine, leaning one hip against the counter and watching Tony over the rim of her glass. Tony grinned at her in that way he had, the same smile he gave whenever he was giving McGee a smartass answer. “What is so funny, Tony?”

“I was going to suggest a movie, but I hear strip poker is still a popular pastime.” Ziva rolled her eyes.

“I was not aware that this was a frat house.” She was trying to read his expression, gauge whether or not he was doing his usual casual flirting or if this was a hint at wanting to continue what they had started in the olive grove earlier. It was hard to tell, but she didn’t want to ruin anything by asking about it outright.

Tony finished his wine, set the empty glass on the counter, and crossed his arms. The joking smirk was still half on his lips. “I wonder if Adam likes strip poker,” he mused, and Ziva glared at him.

“What?” she demanded, crossing her arms and clutching her glass in one hand. Her eyes were shooting daggers at him, but the intensity of her gaze sent a shiver down his spine.

“Your little, uh. Friend with benefits. Adam.” Tony took a step forward towards her. She held her ground and kept her gaze locked on his, her eyes narrowing.

“As I have already explained to you, it was one time. A moment of weakness.” Her voice was firm, but he heard a tinge of something at the edge. Regret or guilt, maybe, but that could have been his imagination. Her eyes scanned his face, and then the edges of her lips curled up into a mysterious smile. “Are you jealous, Tony?”

He almost said yes, but he kept it to himself. Instead, he shrugged. “Just confused. I was serious about what I told you at the airport before. I guess I wasn’t sure why you would turn to him when NCIS has been your family all these years.”

She sighed, her shoulders sagging a little in defeat. “I do not know, Tony. He was here, and you were not. We did not really talk about it before or after, it just happened and that was the end of it. We are all adults, so I do not understand why you are so insistent about this.”

“I don’t know, Ziva, I guess I thought that after the attack on NCIS and everything that something had changed between us.” His voice raised as he continued, starting to pace the small kitchen as he talked. “There’s so much back and forth, and I feel like we’re constantly walking this fine line between friends and something more. I know you have a hard time trusting people and I know that you’ve been hurt before, but I really though that maybe something would be different. CI-Ray was a murderer, but you almost married him for fuck’s sake. I was always there for you, but whenever you need me you pull away. I don’t get you, Ziva! I’ve been trying since the day I met you but I don’t understand you at all. Every time I think I do, you go sleep with Adam or you go rogue, and I can’t keep doing this.”

“How dare you bring Ray into this!” She was almost shouting, her tone matching his. “That was not about you! That is your problem, Tony. Everything has to be about you. Are you really that selfish?” She slammed her glass down on the counter and it shattered, shards flying and the last remnants of merlot trickling over the lip of the counter and onto the floor. Neither she nor Tony paid it any attention. “I devoted my life to Mossad and then to NCIS, to my father and then to Gibbs. Work has always been my focus and my priority, and everything else has been secondary. It is easier that way. You killed Michael, and I know you had your reasons, but I am sure that if you thought about it from my point of view for a second you can understand why that was traumatic. How was I supposed to know that Ray was a bad man? It is not always black and white, Tony, but you have no concept of nuance.” She took a breath, absently pulling a sliver of glass from the side of her hand before lowering her voice to her normal volume. “We work well together, and I trust you with my life, but that does not mean that something more makes sense or is comfortable for me.”

“Newsflash, Ziva: life isn’t always comfortable! You of all people should know that. I’m sorry about Michael, and about Ray, and that clearly you have some serious trust issues that you need to deal with. I understand all that. But it feels like you aren’t even trying, and I’m tired of feeling like a yo-yo. You pull me in but push me away again as soon as I get close.” He took another step forward, his pulse racing in his ears. It felt good to finally say all of the things he had been holding back. He didn’t want to hurt Ziva, but he was also tired of having to pretend that she didn’t hurt him right back. Not to mention that her fiery aggression was turning him on again.

Instead of stepping back she took a step forward, planting her feet and challenging him with her eyes. They were maybe a foot apart, but she wasn’t going to be the one to cave in and close the distance. “You do not have a great race record with women either, Tony. La Grenouille’s daughter, a million one night stands that you cannot even let stay in your apartment. You are a grown man that sleeps in a twin bed, Tony. That is a sign of commitment issues if I have ever seen one.”

“It’s track record, Ziva.”

“What?”

“You said race record. The phrase is track record.”

“You are insufferable sometimes. Did you know that?”

“I’ve been told. But you love it.” His tone was challenging but he waited with bated breath for her reply.

“I do,” she said quietly.

“What?”

“I do love you, Tony.” She reached out a hand to touch his chest, pressing her palm flat against his heart.

“I love you, Ziva David.” He mirrored her gesture, resting his hand against her racing heart. Her skin was warm through the thin fabric of her shirt. They stood like that for a few minutes, neither of them daring to shatter the fragility of the moment. “And I’m sorry about earlier, I didn’t mean to be so aggressive. It’s not all your fault.”

Ziva wrapped her fingers into a fist, pulling Tony to her by his shirt. “Rule number six, Tony. Never say you are sorry.” Her face was inches from his, her eyes daring him to close the distance.

Tony felt his anger fade into desire as he looked down at Ziva, but his eyes widened in shock when he saw her hand. “You’re bleeding,” he said, taking her hand in his. “Is there a first aid kit around here?”

“I am fine, Tony. I have endured much worse.” She pulled her hand away, wiping it gently on her pants. He caught her waist with his now empty hand, bringing her closer to him.

After another agonizing minute of heavy eye contact, Tony kissed her again. She tasted like wine and hope, a dizzying combination that Tony savored. The kiss was tender at first, but the gentleness evaporated into desire, need, and hunger. Ziva grappled with Tony’s shirt, desperate to take it off of him as he walked them backwards towards the counter. The small of her back hit the edge of the counter and Tony lifted her onto it with one swift motion, letting her pull him closer to her with her powerful legs. She eased her grip as Tony pulled back to help her with his shirt, but they found each other again quickly, the kiss all teeth and tongue and hands all over. Tony moved to nip at her neck and she moaned something in Hebrew, throwing her head back and dragging her nails over his shoulders.

Tony began impatiently tugging the hem of her shirt upward, dragging his thumbs along her toned torso as she pulled away from him again, raising her arms over her head. Her shirt dropped to the floor as she kicked off her shoes, once again seeking his mouth with hers. She shifted her weight slightly and pushed him back, sliding off the countertop and forcing him back against the wall, her hands planted on either side of him as she dragged her tongue leisurely up his torso. He bit back a moan as she bit into the flesh of his neck, sucking a deep purple hickey into his skin. “Did you think you would have the upper hand this whole time, Tony?” she questioned, her voice thick with lust as she pressed him closer to the wall. Before he had a chance to answer, she moved her hands from beside his head to his belt, her nimble fingers making quick work of the buckle and sliding the leather from its loops. She held it in one hand and leaned close to his ear, her free hand slamming back against the wall. “Since you do not have your handcuffs, I would be more than happy to make do with this,” she hissed, nipping his ear. He couldn’t hold back a moan at her words.

“I don’t even have a smartass comeback to that. That is easily one of the hottest things I’ve ever heard in my life. However, I want full use of my hands tonight.” As he finished his sentence, he dropped his hands to grip her waist and spun them around so she was pinned to the wall, knocking a picture frame sideways as he did. Before Ziva had a chance to react, he grabbed her wrists and held them over her head, leaning down to kiss her clavicle. Her moans sent a shiver down his spine as he kissed down her chest, tugging at the cups of her bra with his teeth impatiently as he reached her breasts.

She broke the hold he had on her wrists with ease and reached behind her to unclasp her bra as he slid the straps down her arms and tossed the garment back toward the kitchen. Agonizingly slowly he traced his fingers over her small, pert nipples as her back arched off of the wall and her hands found purchase in his hair. With a devilish grin he dragged his tongue over one nipple before closing his mouth over it, looking up to see her eyes shut and her mouth fall open in a delirious exhalation of his name. He used one hand to roll her free nipple, his other hand gripping her hip with a possessiveness that he didn’t know he felt towards her. He grazed his teeth over her nipple and she inhaled sharply in response, biting her lip to avoid giving him the satisfaction of another moan. Instead, she pulled his hair and dragged him back up to her mouth again, capturing his lips in a filthy open-mouthed kiss that left them both wanting more.

Tony slid his hands over her body and under her butt, scooping her up and walking slowly down the hall, stopping to press Ziva against the wall a few times and kiss her deeper as she wrapped her legs around him. He stopped again, fumbling with a doorknob behind her and almost falling forward as the door swung open. He flicked on the light, breaking their kiss again and frowning as he was greeted to the sight of a study instead of a bedroom. She extricated herself from him and gave him a playful swat on the chest. “The bedroom is the next one down, Tony, and the door is open.”

“In my defense, I was a little distracted,” he said defensively, glancing around the small room.

“You are not thinking with the right head, yes?” she questioned playfully, hooking her thumb in one of his belt loops and pulling him towards the desk.

“You could say that,” he conceded. Ziva swept a couple of books off the desk and pushed Tony onto it before straddling his lap and resting her knees on either side of his hips. She ran a hand through her hair as she leaned down to leave a trail of kisses over his chest and up his neck, stopping to nip his earlobes again before sliding her hand between them to settle over the bulge in his jeans.

“Someone is excited,” she murmured into his ear, palming him teasingly through the denim fabric. She wanted him more than she had ever wanted anyone, but she was trying to maintain her composure as much as possible and not grant him the satisfaction of her caving first.

“Can you blame me, David? I don’t know if you’re aware or not but you’re probably the hottest woman I’ve ever seen. I could be misreading the situation, but it seems like you want to fuck me too so yeah, I would say that I’m excited.” He was speaking quickly, trying to keep a grasp on his sanity as her hand increased pressure and her mouth continued to mark him, claim him as hers. He bit his lip as she popped the button on his jeans and tugged the zipper down. He leaned up, wrapping one arm around her waist and using the other to pull his jeans down and kick them to the floor. “As fun as this is, my back is killing me and you’re wearing too many clothes. Bedroom,” he growled, once again lifting her and walking toward the door, flipping the light off as they reached the hallway.

“Next door on the left,” she muttered against his mouth, trailing one hand along the wall until she hit the doorframe. He turned, pushing her against the doorframe as he pulled at the waistband of her pants. She gripped the doorframe with her hands and arched up away from the wall as he dragged her pants down her muscular legs, letting them fall before pulling her against him again and stumbling into the room. He hit the light switch and then settled his hands under her butt again, running his thumbs under the black lace of her panties before placing her on top of the unmade bed. He stood back to admire her graceful body as she rested on her elbows, waiting for him to join her. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips swollen and red from their vicious kisses. Her gold Star of David necklace shone from the tan skin of her chest and he smirked as he watched the swift rise and fall of her peachlike breasts as she caught her breath. Her stomach was taut, her hips slim but beckoning where they met her legs under the black lace. “I need you, Tony. Please,” she said, her eyes wide as she met his gaze.

“God, you don’t need to tell me twice.” He bent down to remove his boxers and she watched his muscular form appreciatively. He wasn’t excessively muscled, but he was strong, solidly built, a form that she knew from memory after so much time with him. As he straightened up her eyes widened even further. His cock wasn’t abnormally long but it was thick and veiny, and she bit her lip thinking about how he was going to feel inside of her. With a smirk, she hooked her thumbs through the waistband of her panties and dragged them slowly down her legs, letting them drop delicately to the floor beside the bed as Tony watched with obvious enthusiasm. He climbed onto the bed, leaning over her once again with a smile and lust blown eyes. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered as his hands roamed her body, stopping at her hips just inches from where she wanted him the most. He shimmied down to settle himself between her legs, kissing his way up her calf and up to her inner thigh. He stopped when he reached the inside of her right thigh, chuckling to himself. “So this is the tattoo.” It was a small knife, the blade pointing down toward her knee. He kissed it gently.

“Yes, Tony, this is the tattoo,” she said with a sigh, mildly agitated that he had stopped what he was doing. Her skin was on fire from his touch and his mouth and she was tired of waiting. With a low, almost feral growl she flipped them over, pinning him beneath her. Biting her lip, she reached between them to guide him to where she wanted him the most. With a cry of relief and pleasure she sank onto him, letting herself adjust to his size before she opened her eyes to look at him. His mouth was slack, his fingers gripping her hips for dear life as she squeezed around him. She was so tight, warm, and velvety and he knew in that moment two things: he was never going to love anyone else the way he loved Ziva, and he wasn’t going to last very long like this.

“Fuuuuck,” he finally said. “Why the fuck did we wait so long?”

“Shut up Tony,” she replied breathlessly, holding onto his hands as she started to move. She started slowly, rolling her hips against him as he bottomed out inside her, relishing the feeling of him stretching her out. He sat up, wrapping his arms around her and burying his face in her neck. The only sounds in the room were their moans and heavy breathing, skin on skin as Ziva maintained a steady pace, her nails dragging down Tony’s back. She was desperate for friction on her clit but that could wait; he had started to buck his hips up to match her rhythm and she was a little distracted by how good he felt. His cock twitched inside her and his thrusts got sloppier, but he tightened his grip on her anyway. He didn’t want her to be disappointed, but more than that he didn’t want it to be over already. As Ziva had pointed out, he had had more than his fair share of one night stands, but this was a very different level of intimacy and experience for him. He wanted to pleasure her more than he craved his own climax, wanted to wake up with her in the morning and fall asleep with her at night not just tomorrow but every day after that. He wanted forever with her, no matter what it took.

“Ziva, I-“. A shaking moan cut him off as he came inside her, gripping her tightly and kissing her with a desperate fierceness. She slowed, riding him through his high, murmuring words of assurance in his ear. Her touch was tender as she cupped his chin in her hand. “I’m sorry,” he panted, kissing her shoulder.

“Rule six, Tony.” She smiled at him, thumbing his lower lip. “I liked it very much.”

“You didn’t cum yet, though,” he insisted, shifting beneath her to grip the back of her thighs and lay her on her back. She whined at the loss of contact as he slid out of her and he wanted nothing more than to fuck her again. However, he knew himself enough to know that he needed a break before he could go another round. He smiled in satisfaction as he watched his cum dripping out of her pretty pussy onto the comforter.

Briefly, he thought of the photo from one of her undercover assignments, the one that showed her with a prosthetic pregnancy belly. She was smiling in the picture, glowing even, despite the fact that the pregnancy was fake, and he was hit with the sudden desire for a wedding and little DiNozzos, watching his pregnant wife painting a nursery in their home. He shoved those thoughts aside for the moment; there would be plenty of time for that later.

He returned his attention to Ziva, who was watching him intensely through her eyelashes, one arm thrown behind her and the other resting on her stomach. He traced one finger up her leg, from calf to thigh, briefly rubbing over her tattoo before drifting languidly between her legs, ghosting over her clit before trailing up over her hip and then resting on top of her hand. As much as he liked her dominating personality, he liked that she was at his mercy now. He smirked as he settled his hand on the inside of her thigh, inches from where he knew she needed him to be. Her lusty expression darkened, and she glared at him.

“You are not as funny as you think you are, Tony,” she hissed.

“Tell me what you want.” It was not a request but a demand, his voice making her stomach flip and the hand not under his gripped the sheets in anticipation.

“Tony, please.”

“Please what?” He tightened his grip on her leg, watching as she bit her lip. “Use your words, baby.”

“Tony, I need you to touch me. Please.” Any traces of the anger and frustration she had expressed earlier had dissipated into desire. She liked to be in control, but she wanted him to claim her, make her his however he wanted. She didn’t want to think about what would happen in the morning, about what this would mean for them both. She wanted to enjoy the moment, the feeling of bliss that came from Tony’s touches. “I thought you said I did not have to ask you twice.”

He shrugged. “I changed my mind.” He kept one hand on her thigh, slowly dragging his other hand over her hip and gliding his thumb over her clit. Her reaction was immediate, her back arching off the bed and her grip on the sheets tightening. As he applied more pressure, slowly starting to rub circles on her clit, she was struggling to bite back moans and cries of ecstasy. “You can be as loud as you want, no one but me is going to hear you. And trust me when I say I love to hear you.” He watched her face as he slipped one finger inside of her, then another as he continued to rub her clit.

“Tony!” She was very quickly approaching her climax, her mind going hazy and blank as he worked her over with his hand. His fingers curled inside of her and he relished the softness of her as he stroked her walls, the chorus of delicious moans and swear words coming from the Israeli beauty egging him on. She started to clench around his fingers and he knew she was close. He kept up his pace, watching her intently, and finally she fell over the edge with a strangled cry. Her legs shook, her toes curling and her fingers wrapping themselves in the comforter as her legs clamped down on his arm. Slowly, he slid his fingers out of her, the mixture of her cum and his coating them delightfully. As Ziva fought to catch her breath her leaned down to kiss her. To his surprise, she caught his hand in hers and brought his fingers to her mouth. He watched, wide-eyed, as she licked his fingers clean, sucking them fiercely. His cock twitched at her actions and he wrapped his free arm under her back, pulling her up to a seated position as she dropped his hand and captured his mouth with her own. He could feel her heartbeat against his chest, still racing from her orgasm. Watching her writhe under him had hypnotized him and he knew he would be replaying that in his head forever.

Despite the intensity of her climax she was not sated, and her dominant side returned with a ferocity. She pushed him back to straddle him once again, but he wasn’t ready to give up the fight either. He gripped her wrists and used his bodyweight to flip them over, trapping her beneath him as he planted open-mouthed kisses on her neck and jaw. She wrapped her legs around him, grinding against him as she found his mouth with her own, kissing him desperately and murmuring in Hebrew against his lips. He relaxed a little against her and she used this to flip them over once again, almost sliding off the side of the bed. She laughed, leaning down to kiss him softly. “Oops,” she said, nipping at his lower lip as he tightened his grip on her. She knew she would have bruises in the morning from his fingers on her hips and the thought sent a pleasant shiver down her spine.

“I always knew you were a wildcat but goddamn,” he said, halfway between a whisper and a growl. “Are we going to fight again or are you going to let me fuck you?”

“You think you are so tough, Tony, why don’t you do something instead of talking about it?” She pulled away from him, once again challenging him with her eyes, daring him to do something. Taking her by surprise, he pushed her off of him, scrambling to his knees and flipping her again so she was face down, grabbing a fistful of her hair and pulling up on all fours. She could easily have kicked back at him, pushed him off the bed, hurt or killed him and escaped into the countryside. Instead, she spread her legs a little farther apart and arched her back, her perfect, round ass in the air and waiting for Tony to make a move. She glanced over her shoulder at him, her lip caught between her teeth, and he ran his hands appreciatively over the curve of her ass before once again burying his cock inside of her. The sound she made as she rocked back against him to match his pace was unbelievable, a mix of a moan and a growl and a cry of his name.

“You’re perfect,” he muttered, grabbing her hair and wrapping it around his hand, pulling back to arch her back even farther. Ziva was completely at his mercy, once again tightly gripping the sheets as Tony pounded into her, all inhibitions gone as animal instincts took over. She snaked a hand beneath her to rub her clit as he dug his free hand into her ass, her second orgasm building quickly under her practiced ministrations. He felt her start to clench on his cock and he knew that he wasn’t far behind her. He increased his pace, panting, and her cries became an unintelligible mix of Hebrew and English as she came undone beneath him, her legs shaking and threatening to collapse. He wrapped an arm beneath her stomach to support her as he came again, easing his grip on her hair and rubbing her back, murmuring praises to her.

With a reluctant sigh, he pulled out of her and collapsed to her left, landing on his side and reaching out to brush her cheek as she curled up next to him. She was exhausted, mostly from the emotional toll the last few weeks had taken on her, and she struggled to keep her eyes open as the waves of her climax subsided. The heat that burned in the pit of her stomach, between her legs, the craving for him had lessened but still had not subsided, and she struggled to calm her heartbeat. Despite her dissatisfaction, she felt content, fulfilled, at peace for the first time in a very long time.

“You are not falling asleep on me already, are you?” she asked, playfully nudging him in the ribs as his eyes drifted shut. They flew open, surprised, and he met her gaze with a dubious expression.

“I had my suspicions that you were a hellcat in bed, but I don’t know how you have so much energy.” He rolled onto his back, one hand sliding around her and his hand tracing soft circles on her shoulder. Her skin was hot and sticky, and he could feel her elevated pulse. At his words, she averted her eyes, suddenly self-conscious. She turned over so her back was to him, tucking her legs towards her chest. He sensed her closing off again and he regretted his words. “I’m sorry, Ziva, I didn’t mean it like that.”

She sat up and crossed her legs, still facing away from him and now just out of his reach. The silence was uncomfortable and heavy for a minute before she finally spoke. “Maybe this was a mistake.” She didn’t regret it, but she worried that he did, worried that she was too much or not enough and that he would be the one with regrets. This self-consciousness was unfamiliar to her; she had experienced insecurity with her job and her abilities with Mossad and NCIS but had never felt incompetent when it came to carnal pleasures. But Tony was different, special even, and now that the initial heat of the moment had passed, she was unsure about where they stood.

“Do you really believe that?” he questioned, her doubt striking his heart. Slowly, he sat up and slid to the edge of the bed. “If you want me to leave I will. I don’t want to, but I will.” He glanced over his shoulder at her and she shifted to face him.

“No.”

“’No’ what?”

“I do not want you to go.” She reached her hand out to him. “And I do not regret tonight.”

“Then why do you think that this was a mistake?” He took her hand, rubbed his thumb over her knuckles.

She shrugged. “I do not know, Tony. This is unfamiliar territory for me.” She chewed her lip, trying to put her thoughts into words. “I do not want to be too much or not enough for you. In any sense, not just now. I know that I love you, and I also know that it has been a long time since I have had such a good time with someone. I do not want to take it for granted or spoil a good thing because I still do not feel entirely satisfied.” She looked at him through her lashes. “Which is not to say you gave a poor performance, because it was quite the opposite. However, I do not want you to feel pressured or inadequate in any way.”

“You are one of the most selfless people I have ever met,” he assured her. “But we’re both adults, I can handle anything you throw at me. We will find a way to make this work, in here and out there.” He nodded towards the darkened landscape outside. “I told you that I would take care of you, and I will. I promise. Tonight and tomorrow and as long as you’ll let me.” He pulled her towards him, wrapping her in a hug. “Just don’t shut me out anymore, please. I can’t handle that again.”

“I make no promises,” she replied finally. “But I want to find a way to make this work.”

He kissed the top of her head. “What do you need right now?”

“Just you.” She leaned up to kiss him again, slow and deep, drawing him farther up the bed with her. Once again, she wrapped herself around him, clinging to him desperately as the tender kisses got heavier and more desperate. She was suddenly afraid, not of being close to him but of possibly losing him after all of this. “I love you,” she whispered as he slid himself inside of her again, relishing the closeness of him, the way they fit together perfectly.

He wrapped his arms around her even tighter, resting his head against her chest so he could listen to her heartbeat, hear her quiet moans as she kept a slow, steady pace. He could sense the exhaustion she felt and he tried to tell her that she could stop, but she was determined. She shifted her position slightly, seeking friction as the tiredness took over and she chased her own high one more time.

Seconds turned into minutes and then into nothing; time no longer existed, no longer mattered for either of them. The dark countryside beyond the windows melted away, the world beyond the edges of the bed ceased to exist. The only thing that either of them were aware of was each other, the sounds of their breathing and heartbeats echoing in their ears.

Ziva felt her orgasm building slowly, the slow burn in the pit of her stomach pulling her out of her reverie. Instead of rushing toward the edge she maintained her pace, relishing the gradual building. Tony was close but trying not to throw her off her rhythm, so he held onto her and whispered praises to her. Finally, after what felt like a glorious eternity, she said his name, a drawn out moan as her head dropped to his shoulder and she started to tremble from the force of her climax. He couldn’t hold out anymore, finally letting himself cum as he stroked her back.

With a sigh he laid back against the pillows, pulling her down with him and holding her close against his chest as she finally settled down. One leg was still hooked over him, keeping herself grounded and, at least subconsciously, keeping him anchored to her. Neither one of them wanted to break the silence. Unlike earlier, this wasn’t a weighty silence but a pleasant one, a quiet intimacy that cradled them both in warm happiness. He stroked her arm, enjoying the feeling of her skin against his. He had never been more content than in this moment, never been more in love until now. “I love you,” he said finally. “I love you.”

“I love you, Tony.” She turned on her side, pulling the comforter up over both of them and snuggling against him. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

She was quiet for a moment. “For everything.” Those two words hung heavy between them, weighed down by all the things that they had never said to each other until now, or at all.

“I mean, you did most of the work,” he joked.

“That is not what I meant, and you know it.” Her tone was flat, unamused. He sighed.

“I’m sorry. I really haven’t been able to say anything right today,” he said quietly.

“No, it is alright.” She rolled onto her stomach, tucking folding her arms under her head and watching him. “I do not want you to go another minute without knowing that I am grateful for everything you have done for me.”

“I told you before, Ziva, I will always be fighting for you. I’m not going anywhere, and all you have to do is ask.”

They drifted off, their legs tangled together under the comforter. In the hazy morning light Ziva woke, turning to see Tony fast asleep beside her. She smiled at him, watched the rise and fall of his chest as he slept. She felt at home here, safe, and she wanted nothing more than to stay here forever with him. She wrapped herself in the comforter and rested her head on his chest. “I will be fighting for you, too, Tony. Always,” she whispered, and fell asleep once more.

#ncis #smut #tony x ziva

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mrlnsfrt · 4 years ago

Text

Mercy on Your Enemies

Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake, For theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

Blessed are you when they revile and persecute you, and say all kinds of evil against you falsely for My sake. Rejoice and be exceedingly glad, for great is your reward in heaven, for so they persecuted the prophets who were before you. - Matthew 5:10-12 NKJV

Jesus told His followers that those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake are blessed. It is important to highlight here that the blessings stand only when you are innocent, when you are being persecuted for being righteous, for being faithful to God. If you are persecuted for doing something wrong, for cheating, for being dishonest, for being abusive, then there is no blessing. But this text also points to a reality that God’s faithful followers face in this world. We live in a world where someone can be persecuted without ever doing anything wrong. Jesus goes so far as to say that you can be persecuted for righteousness’ sake, for being good, and honest, and well, righteous. Jesus promised a special blessing, but that does not mean that you feel blessed as you are being persecuted.

David composed two Psalms from a cave while being persecuted by Saul (at least there are two I was able to find). They are Psalm 57, and Psalm 142. In these Psalms we can tell David is not feeling particularly blessed.

Attend to my cry, For I am brought very low; Deliver me from my persecutors, For they are stronger than I. - Psalm 142:6 NKJV

But David never forgot about the Source of his life and salvation,

I cried out to You, O Lord: I said, “You are my refuge, My portion in the land of the living. - Psalm 142:5 NKJV

So it is possible for us to be persecuted, to feel distant from God, and like we will be destroyed by our enemies. Yet we should never forget that reality is not limited by what we can see nor by what we feel. This is where faith comes in, and we can know that even though it might look and feel like we are all alone and about to be destroyed by our enemies, God is with us, and ultimately it is our enemies who need mercy.

Personal Story

I remember when I was young there was a big commotion at the apartment where my grandparents lived. I was young and I do not remember all the details, I do remember my mother and grandmother and other family members being very agitated. My grandfather had been robbed. I do not remember if it was a gunpoint or knifepoint, but he was robbed. I believe he had been on his way to the bank to deposit some money. My mother and others were upset about the whole incident and insisted that he press charges with the police, and there was a lot of talking and crying and I don’t remember all the details. But one thing has stuck with me, my grandfather wanted to pray, and as we prayed he thanked God that his life had been spared, next, he thanked God that he had not been the robber.

That is something that always stuck with me. I expected him to pray more of an imprecatory prayer, calling for God to curse the men who had taken his money. I do not think that my grandfather was against justice and the proper punishment of the men who did wrong, but my grandfather understood that it was better to be an innocent victim than a criminal. My grandfather knew that he was saved, he had a personal relationship with Jesus. But those criminals were living a life of sin and causing terrible suffering to others. Anyone living a life of sin does not have the peace that only God can give (John 14:27) and need salvation. Without God, there is no true joy and no eternal life.

Saul Persecutes David

Saul returned from pursuing the Philistines and was told that David was in the Desert of En Gedi. Saul decides to take three thousand of his best men from all of Israel and went to look for David and his men near the Crags of the Wild Goats. As King Saul searched for David he came by some sheep pens and a cave. This was exactly what Saul was hoping to find. He had been needed to relieve himself and needed some privacy. I imagine Saul telling his men to sit and rest for a bit, and then going away by himself to the cave to take care of his needs.

The King James Version says that “Saul went in to cover his feet” (1 Samuel 24:3), which is a literal translation. "This Hebrew idiom refers to the Israelite practice of disposing of human excrement in a sanitary manner through covering it over with dirt." (Bergen, R. D. (2002). 1, 2 Samuel. Nashville, TN: Broadman & Holman. p238 (footnote)). Little did he know, David and his men were inside that same cave farther towards the back of the cave.

An Unexpected Opportunity

Then the men of David said to him, “This is the day of which the Lord said to you, ‘Behold, I will deliver your enemy into your hand, that you may do to him as it seems good to you.’ ” And David arose and secretly cut off a corner of Saul’s robe. - 1 Samuel 24:4 NKJV

Saul coming in by himself to the cave where David and all his men were hiding was clearly an act of God. David’s soldiers interpreted it as such, and even mentioned a prophecy that is not mentioned anywhere else in the Bible. This is a mystery, was it an unrecorded prophecy, or just wishful thinking. I have heard many supposed Bible quotes that are nowhere to be found in the Bible. It is surprising and dangerous how we can believe so strongly that Bible says something that in fact it does not. (Side note: one text that often gets misquoted is that Paul supposedly says that “to be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord” but the Bible does not say this anywhere, you can read several translations of 2 Corinthians 5:8 here)

What the soldiers say sounds biblical, but it is not recorded in the Bible, at least I was not able to find a record of this being written anywhere else.

Seizing the Moment

David stealthily approaches Saul and cuts off a corner of Saul’s robe. There are those who assign great significance to this act. Some believe that this symbolically transferred power from Saul to David. Support for this is found when you take into consideration the Torah requirements that include Numbers 15:38-39, and Deuteronomy 22:12 which require the wearing of tassels on the corners of one’s garments. The reasoning goes that without the corner and its tassel Saul’s most obvious symbol of kingship was made unwearable. Personally believe that it is a bit of a stretch to say that with this act David had symbolically invalidated Saul’s claim to kingship, but it is a view that Bergen mentions. (Bergen, R. D. (2002). 1, 2 Samuel. Nashville, TN: Broadman & Holman. p239)

V. H. Matthews adds a significant historical and cultural insight to the interpretation of this passage saying that

The rather elaborate hems with suspended tassels found on most garments in the ancient Near East symbolized the ranks of kings and their advisers as well as the military. - Manners and Customs in the Bible [Peabody, Mass.: Hendrickson, 1988], 119).

The strongest evidence that I see for the symbolic significance of what David did is the remorse David feels for his behavior. David realized he had raised his hand against “the anointed of the LORD.”

Vengeance

Dear friends, never take revenge. Leave that to the righteous anger of God. For the Scriptures say, “I will take revenge; I will pay them back,” says the LORD. - Romans 12:19 NLT

‘Vengeance is Mine, and retribution, In due time their foot will slip; For the day of their disaster is at hand, And their doom hurries to meet them.’ - Deuteronomy 32:35 Amplified Bible

David does not want to be the one who causes Saul to fall, he does not want to cause the fall of someone the LORD had anointed.

And he said to his men, “The Lord forbid that I should do this thing to my master, the Lord’s anointed, to stretch out my hand against him, seeing he is the anointed of the Lord.” So David restrained his servants with these words, and did not allow them to rise against Saul. And Saul got up from the cave and went on his way. - 1 Samuel 24:6-7 NKJV

David is not saying that Saul deserves to be king, nor that Saul is guiltless. David simply does not want to be guilty of spilling Saul’s blood. David chooses to leave judgment to God, even if he had the perfect opportunity to take his revenge. Even if it looks like God has delivered his enemy in his hands, David will not be the direct cause of the fall of his enemy. David refuses to spill the blood of his enemy, even if his enemy would not hesitate to spill his blood. David behaves in this way out of respect for God. It is nothing that Saul did, David is not afraid of Saul, but David respects God and God’s anointed.

The Confrontation

The interchange that follows is remarkable. The section of text stretching from verse 8 through 21 contains the longest recorded quotes by both David and Saul found in 1 Samuel. (Bergen, R. D. p239) The amount of space dedicated to this exchange suggests high importance. This seems to be the central part of the text and two key themes surface in this exchange.

David is loyal to King Saul.

David will be Israel’s next king.

As Saul makes his way out of the cave David calls out to him. This was a risky move since in doing so David would give away his position to King Saul. However, it seems that David was closer to Saul than Saul was to his army, so worst-case scenario David could always capture Saul and hold him hostage.

David also arose afterward, went out of the cave, and called out to Saul, saying, “My lord the king!” And when Saul looked behind him, David stooped with his face to the earth, and bowed down. - 1 Samuel 24:8 NKJV

David addresses Saul as lord and king and bows down. David is signaling his loyalty to the king, and next, we have what can be considered the most passionate and eloquent plea for reconciliation between persons recorded in all ancient literature. (Bergen, R. D. p240)

David carefully structures his arguments in a way to give Saul an easy out.

And David said to Saul: “Why do you listen to the words of men who say, ‘Indeed David seeks your harm’? - 1 Samuel 24:9 NKJV

David does not blame Saul for coming after him, but rather some unknown, misinformed individual who lied to Saul. David proceeds to lay out eyewitness and material evidence to make the case that he is not the king’s enemy.

Look, this day your eyes have seen that the Lord delivered you today into my hand in the cave, and someone urged me to kill you. But my eye spared you, and I said, ‘I will not stretch out my hand against my lord, for he is the Lord’s anointed.’ Moreover, my father, see! Yes, see the corner of your robe in my hand! For in that I cut off the corner of your robe, and did not kill you, know and see that there is neither evil nor rebellion in my hand, and I have not sinned against you. Yet you hunt my life to take it. Let the Lord judge between you and me, and let the Lord avenge me on you. But my hand shall not be against you. - 1 Samuel 24:10-12 NKJV

David points out how Saul had seen with his own eyes that David could have killed him but refused to raise his hand against the Lord’s anointed. Saul was the key witness, he knew that the Lord had delivered him to David and David has spared his life. Saul’s life was spared to because of anything Saul had done but rather because of what God had done. God has anointed Saul and David’s regard for God kept him from harming His anointed.

If Saul had any doubts about how close he came to dying at David’s hand all he had to do was take a look at his garment and notice the missing corner. David has shown by his actions that he was not an evildoer, since he refrained from evil (Matthew 7:16,20). In other words, if Davids had truly wanted to take the kingdom from Saul he would not have refrained from killing him when he had the chance.

However, if David is innocent, and it was just proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that David was loyal to Saul, then Saul was guilty of trying to kill an innocent and just man. By pointing this out David is trying to keep King Saul from bringing divine wrath and judgment upon himself.

Keep far from a false charge, and do not kill the innocent and righteous, for I will not acquit the wicked. - Exodus 23:7 ESV

David now keeps going and accuses the king of squandering precious national resources.

After whom has the king of Israel come out? Whom do you pursue? A dead dog? A flea? - 1 Samuel 24:14 NKJV

David concludes by calling upon God to judge between them. It is obvious that David is innocent and that God is with David. Saul is not only unable to defeat David but to continue to pursue this will only lead to his own destruction.

The Realization

So it was, when David had finished speaking these words to Saul, that Saul said, “Is this your voice, my son David?” And Saul lifted up his voice and wept. - 1 Samuel 24:16 NKJV

Saul is forced to confront reality. He finally says David’s name, something he has not done in a very long time (1 Samuel 20:27, 30-31; 22:7-9, 13). Not only does Saul say David’s name, but he also calls him his son. The full emotional weight of current events finally hit Saul and he wept out loud.

Then he said to David: “You are more righteous than I; for you have rewarded me with good, whereas I have rewarded you with evil. And you have shown this day how you have dealt well with me; for when the Lord delivered me into your hand, you did not kill me. For if a man finds his enemy, will he let him get away safely? Therefore may the Lord reward you with good for what you have done to me this day. And now I know indeed that you shall surely be king, and that the kingdom of Israel shall be established in your hand. Therefore swear now to me by the Lord that you will not cut off my descendants after me, and that you will not destroy my name from my father’s house.” - 1 Samuel 24:17-21 NKJV

Saul realizes and admits that David will be the next king and that Israel will flourish under his leadership. Realizing that David is a righteous man Saul asks David to spare his descendants. David swears to Saul and they go each their separate way. Saul goes home, but David goes up to the stronghold.

Conclusion and Application

David is not king, David does not have three thousand soldiers at his disposal, much less three thousand chosen men from all Israel. Humanly speaking, Saul had all the advantages. He had position, title, resources, power, experience, he was tall, what else cold Saul need? Sadly he did not have what matters most, or the only thing that matters, Saul did not have a personal relationship with God.

David on the other hand was a fugitive, an outcast, on the run, living in the wilderness, with a group of disgruntled men who decided to follow him (1Samuel 22:1-2). But God was with him and that made all the difference.

Please notice this, the king without God has no chance against a “nobody” who is on God’s side. David was the one who had to have mercy on the king, not the other way around. David is the powerful one, not because he has any special power, but because Almighty God is with Him.

You may feel persecuted, though you did nothing wrong. You may feel like your faithfulness to God makes you a target, but remember, that having God is ultimately all that matters, the only thing that matters. Whatever may come your way, just make sure to stay with God and everything will be okay.

Be strong and of good courage, do not fear nor be afraid of them; for the Lord your God, He is the One who goes with you. He will not leave you nor forsake you.” - Deuteronomy 31:6 NKJV

#Old Testament #David #Saul #Persecution

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nikkoliferous · 5 years ago

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They Thought They Were Free: The Germans, 1933-45

I’ve been reading this book by Milton Mayer for a while now, and I've wanted to share some of the passages that seem especially relevant to current events. A lot of what these Nazis he spoke with told him about what Germany was like at that time, should frankly send a chill up your spine.

In the pleasant resort towns of New England Americans have seen signs reading “Selected Clientele” or “Restricted.” They have grown accustomed to seeing such signs, so accustomed that, unless they are non-Caucasian or, perhaps, non-“Aryan” Americans, they take no notice of them and, in taking no notice, accept them. In the much less pleasant cottonseed-oil towns of the Deep South Americans have grown accustomed to seeing signs reading anything from “White” and “Colored” to “Nigger, Don’t Let the Sun Set on You Here,” and, unless they are non-Caucasian or, perhaps, northern Americans, they take no notice of them. There were enough such signs (literally and figuratively) in pre-Nazi Germany, and there was enough non-resistance to them, so that, when the countryside bloomed in 1933 with signs reading “Juden hier uneiwünscht, Jews Not Wanted Here,” the Germans took no notice of them. So, in the body politic as in the body personal, nonresistance to the milder indulgences paves the way for nonresistance to the deadlier.

The German community—the rest of the seventy million Germans, apart from the million or so who operated the whole machinery of Nazism—had nothing to do except not to interfere. Absolutely nothing was expected of them except to go on as they had, paying their taxes, reading their local paper, and listening to the radio. Everybody attended local celebrations of national occasions—hadn’t the schools and the stores always been closed for the Kaiser’s birthday?—so you attended, too. Everybody contributed money and time to worthy purposes, so you did, too. In America your wife collects or distributes clothing, gives an afternoon a week to the Red Cross or the orphanage or the hospital; in Germany she did the same thing in the Nazi Frauenbund, and for the same reasons.

► “I couldn’t help being glad, when something happened to somebody else, that it hadn’t happened to me. It was like later on, when a bomb hit another city, or another house than your own; you were thankful.” “More thankful for yourself than you were sorry for others?” “Yes. The truth is, Yes. It may be different in your case, Herr Professor, but I’m not sure that you will know until you have faced it.” You were sorry for the Jews, who had to identify themselves, every male with “Israel” inserted into his name, every female with “Sarah,” on every official occasion; sorrier, later on, that they lost their jobs and their homes and had to report themselves to the police; sorrier still that they had to leave their homeland, that they had to be taken to concentration camps and enslaved and killed. But—weren’t you glad you weren’t a Jew? You were sorry, and more terrified, when it happened, as it did, to thousands, to hundreds of thousands, of non-Jews. But—weren’t you glad that it hadn’t happened to you, a non-Jew? It might not have been the loftiest type of gladness, but you hugged it to yourself and watched your step, more cautiously than ever.

► The people didn’t pay any attention to the Party program as such. They went to the meetings just to hear something new, anything new. They were desperate about the economic situation, ‘a new Germany’ sounded good to them; but from a deep or broad point of view they saw nothing at all. Hitler talked always against the government, against the lost war, against the peace treaty, against unemployment. All that, people liked. By the time the intellectuals asked, ‘What is this?’ it had a solid basis in the common people.

► All ten of my friends, including the sophisticated Hildebrandt, were affected by this sense of what the Germans call Bewegung, movement, a swelling of the human sea, something supraparty and suprapolitical, a surge of the sort that does not, at the time, evoke analysis or, afterward, yield to it. These men were victims of the “Bolshevik” rabies, to be sure. They were equally victims of economic hardship and, still worse, of economic hopelessness.

► Nazism—Hitler, rather—knew this and knew that nothing else mattered to my friends so much as this, the identification of this Germany, the community again, in which one might know he belonged and, belonging, identify himself.

I make note of this particular passage because there is a trend amongst former white supremacists, wherein they will often tell you that what made them an easy target for indoctrination was a sense of loneliness, of not belonging. It often was not about a genuine belief in the superiority of whites—that was merely a byproduct, if they ever believed it at all; it was that they felt left behind by society at large and they found community in being inducted into this toxic ideology. Thus, this feeling of unbelonging that Mayer eludes to, this lack of identity, is essential in the othering of non-whites.

► My friends wanted Germany purified. They wanted it purified of the politicians, of all the politicians. They wanted a representative leader in place of unrepresentative representatives. And Hitler, the pure man, the antipolitician, was the man, untainted by “politics,” which was only a cloak for corruption.

► What Gustav Schwenke wanted, and the only thing he wanted, was security. The job he wanted, and the only job he ever wanted, was a job with the State, any job with the State, with its tenure, its insurance, and its pension. Gustav was not, I imagine, the only boy born in Germany in 1912 who wanted security and thought, until 1933, that he would never have it.

► “I was nothing. Then, suddenly, I was needed. National Socialism had a place for me. I was nothing—and then I was needed.”

► It was separation, not prejudice as such, that made Nazism possible, the mere separation of Jews and non-Jews. None of my ten friends except Herr Hildebrandt, the teacher, had ever known a Jew at all intimately in a town of twenty thousand.

► When people you don’t know, people in whom you have no interest, people whose affairs you have never discussed, move away from your community, you don’t notice that they are going or that they are gone. When, in addition, public opinion (and the government itself) has depreciated them, it is still likelier that you won’t notice their departure or, if you do, that you will forget about it.

► Remember: the teacher excepted, nine of my ten friends didn’t know any Jews and didn’t care what happened to them—all this before Nazism. And it was their government, now, which was carrying on this program under law. Merely to inquire meant to attack the government’s justice. It meant risk, large or small, political or social, and it meant risk in behalf of people one didn’t like anyway.

► “What caused Nazism was the clubman in Berlin who, when he was asked about the Nazi menace in 1930, looked up from his after-lunch game of Skat and replied, ‘Dafür ist die Regierung da. That’s what the government’s there for.’”

► “What happened here was the gradual habituation of the people, little by little, to being governed by surprise; to receiving decisions deliberated in secret; to believing that the situation was so complicated that the government had to act on information which the people could not understand, or so dangerous that, even if the people could understand it, it could not be released because of national security. This separation of government from people, this widening of the gap, took place so gradually and so insensibly, each step disguised (perhaps not even intentionally) as a temporary emergency measure or associated with true patriotic allegiance or with real social purposes. And all the crises and reforms (real reforms, too) so occupied the people that they did not see the slow motion underneath, of the whole process of government growing remoter and remoter.”

► And on top of that were the demands in the community, the things in which one had to, was ‘expected to’ participate that had not been there or had not been important before. It was all rigmarole, of course, but it consumed all one’s energies, coming on top of the work one really wanted to do. You can see how easy it was, then, not to think about fundamental things. One had no time.”

► “You see,” my colleague went on, “one doesn’t see exactly where or how to move. Believe me, this is true. Each act, each occasion, is worse than the last, but only a little worse. You wait for the next and the next. You wait for one great shocking occasion, thinking that others, when such a shock comes, will join with you in resisting somehow. You don’t want to act, or even talk, alone; you don’t want to ‘go out of your way to make trouble.’ Why not?—Well, you are not in the habit of doing it. And it is not just fear, fear of standing alone, that restrains you; it is also genuine uncertainty. “But the one great shocking occasion, when tens or hundreds or thousands will join with you, never comes. That’s the difficulty. If the last and worst act of the whole regime had come immediately after the first and smallest, thousands, yes, millions would have been sufficiently shocked—if, let us say, the gassing of the Jews in ’43 had come immediately after the ‘German Firm’ stickers on the windows of non-Jewish shops in ’33. But of course this isn’t the way it happens. In between come all the hundreds of little steps, some of them imperceptible, each of them preparing you not to be shocked by the next. Step C is not so much worse than Step B, and, if you did not make a stand at Step B, why should you at Step C? And so on to Step D. Life is a continuing process, a flow, not a succession of acts and events at all. It has flowed to a new level, carrying you with it, without any effort on your part. On this new level you live, you have been living more comfortably every day, with new morals, new principles. You have accepted things you would not have accepted five years ago, a year ago, things that your father, even in Germany, could not have imagined. Suddenly it all comes down, all at once. You see what you are, what you have done, or, more accurately, what you haven’t done (for that was all that was required of most of us: that we do nothing). You remember those early meetings of your department in the university when, if one had stood, others would have stood, perhaps, but no one stood. A small matter, a matter of hiring this man or that, and you hired this one rather than that. You remember everything now, and your heart breaks. Too late. You are compromised beyond repair.”

#the moral of the story?#complacency not racism is what allows things like nazi germany to happen #or things like say the u.s. border crisis in 2019 #politics #us politics #us immigration #abolish ice #cbp #white silence is violence #nazi germany #tw: racism #tw: antisemitism

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cagedbirdmaya · 5 years ago

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Helping Hand

INVOLVED: Maya Morgan and Israel West TIME FRAME: Flashback LOCATION: General Store; Denver, Colorado SUMMARY: Israel takes Maya to the project he needs her help with.

Israel pulled up to the store front in the Chevy truck and he turned the car off, looking over at Maya with a hum. “This is it,” he told her easily as he unbuckled his seatbelt and slid from the car, his boots crunching in the snow a bit. Closing the door behind him, he walked around to the passenger side carefully, mindful of the ice on the ground. Opening Maya's door, he offered her his gloved hand with a smile.

Maya licked her lips and looked out the window a bit as the man drove, he drove up to the store, she looked over at him gently. He stopped the car and turned it off, she watched him climb out before she unfastened her seatbelt as well. She looked to his hand and grabbed it, climbing out of the truck with his help. She grabbed her purse and licked her lips, zipping up her jacket a bit.

Israel helped Maya out of the car carefully. “Watch your step there,” he told her gently before he closed the car door behind her. “This was my father’s store,” he informed her as he placed his hand on her lower back, guiding her to the door easily, watching for ice patches. Pulling away from her, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the keys. He flipped through them before he found the right one and he stuck it into the lock, turning it slowly before he opened the door, letting Maya enter first. “Ladies first,” he said easily.

Maya walked along with the man quietly and she made sure she walked carefully against the ice. She didn’t know if she’d ever get used to Colorado, but she assumed she would have to at some point. She licked her lips gently and nodded her head. “I see” she said softly to him and she looked around the store front gently taking it in. She looked up at him and nodded her head at him as she moved into the store looking around it, she made sure she dusted her feet off as she walked in further.

Israel walked in behind Maya, closing the door behind them, shutting out the cold. “Give me one second,” he said to her gently as he locked the door behind them and moved through the dark store, only lit by the daylight outside. He moved to the back, opening up the box and flipping the switch for the breaker before he flipped the power switch and turned on all of the circuit. The buzz of electricity running began humming through the building and he moved back towards the front as he flipped the light switch on the wall near the counter, illuminating the room for Maya, revealing various clothing racks, shelves, and area for various goods.

Maya nodded and said “okay” to him softly as he locked the door and ran off, disappearing in the dark. She shifted on her feet and shook a bit trying to shake the cold off of her and she moved to pull her gloves off slowly. She tucked the gloves into her purse and watched as Israel returned. He turned the lights on lighting up the place and she looked around it, taking it in “it’s spacious” she told him, nodding her head as she stepped in further looking at the racks.

Israel nodded at Maya’s words. “Yeah, it used to be filled with things, now this is all that’s left,” he said with a small sigh. “At a certain point, my dad just got too tired to keep the store up and he closed it down,” he explained. “Had an everything must go sale,” he told her as he walked over to the thermostat and turned it on, he pressed the heat up and up and up with a hum. Setting the temperature, he looked back at Maya and said, “so what do you think? Think we can turn this store around?”

Maya nodded her head at his words as she looked around a bit more, picking up an item and putting it back down idly. She licked her lips again “oh” she said to him gently “I can understand that” she said understandingly. At his question she looked back at him “huh?” she said softly and very confused. “You want us to reopen this?” she asked him softly.

Nodding at Maya, Israel confirmed her suspicions. “Yeah,” he said easily. “This is the project I was talking about,” he hummed out. “I’ve been wanting to re-open for a while but… I can’t do it alone,” he explained. “I would really appreciate your help,” he told her with a soft smile as he pulled his gloves off, sticking them into his pockets as the heat kicked in and began to warm the store for them.

Maya looked at the man in his eyes as he confirmed what she figured he were. She shifted on her feet and placed her hands in the pockets of her coat looking around them again. “I understand you are trying to help me, but you don’t have to do this,” she told him. “To trust me with this” she said her brows furrowing together “this once was your father’s thing” she said unwilling to accept that this man cared and wanted to help her.

Israel walked through the partly empty store and he leaned against an empty rack as he listened to her. His tongue drug over his lips slowly and he said, “I don’t,” easily with a small shrug, his shoulders touching his ears, “but I suggested that you stay and in doing so it’s my responsibility to help you find your footing and assist you in any way that I can,” he told her with a hum. “As far as trusting you,” he let out a sigh, “I know that you’re a good woman,” he said truthfully. “I see the light in you, and I know that you have a pure heart and spirit,” he breathed. “I know that I can trust you and I believe that you can help me with this,” he said.

Maya watched him as he replied back to her, coolly leaned against a rack. He did suggest she stay and on a damn whim she did, to this day she had no clue why. She didn’t know the man and couldn’t say for sure he’d even help her. Though on the other end of the stick he had been, and she’d been trying to coward and hide from it for some odd reason. At his compliment she looked down, her eyes slowly moving to look at something else altogether. “Okay” she said softly as she shifted on her feet and finally looked back at him.

Nodding slowly, Israel leaned up from the rack and he smiled his pearly whites at her. “Thank you,” he said with a hum as he patted the rack with his hand idly before he moved away from it. He walked into the center of the room, looking around the space with a sigh. He turned in a full circle, just taking it all in with his hands on his hips before he said, “first thing first, we have to dust,” chuckling before a sneeze escaped him and he quickly brought his arm up, letting it out into the crook of his arm. He sniffled softly before he began to shrug off his coat, growing a bit warm as the heat rose in the building. Moving over to the counter, he laid his coat over it easily before he began rolling his sleeves up a bit. “How’s the cabin treating you?” he asked her curiously.

Maya watched him examine it all and she said “bless you” to him after he sneezed into his arm. He took his coat off and set it aside, rolling up his sleeves and she continued to stand there idly. “Great” she said nodding her head “you know it’s beautiful…. and quiet” she told him. “Peaceful” she added as well trying to mask the comment of it being quiet.

“Thank you,” Israel said as he rolled up the other sleeve, nodding as she spoke about the cabin. At the mention of it being quiet, he let out a sigh. “It is a pretty big place for just one person to stay,” he said thoughtfully, even as she tried to mask it. With his sleeves rolled up, Israel walked over to the side and he picked up an old t-shirt that had fallen off of a rack. Shaking it out a bit, he walked over to a shelf and used it to dust it off a bit. “I could stay there with you a couple nights a week,” he suggested with a shrug. “Just to keep you company,” he hummed out thoughtfully before he looked back at her.

Maya continued to watch him before she moved towards the counter, she placed her purse down and removed her jacket. She placed her jacket against his and turned to watch him as he idly dusted off the shelf. “You are too busy for that,” she said, shaking her head at him. She was fine with raiding the wine and liquor cabinets late at night when she felt too lonely to sleep.

“I can make do,” Israel said easily as he turned to look back at her, taking note that she had taken off her coat as well. He turned to her fully and said, “I’m going to see what I can find in the cleaning closet,” he told her. “Actually, let me show you around the back,” he said thinking it over as he sat the shirt on the shelf and dusted his hands off a bit. “C’mon,” he said nodding his head in the direction as he walked to the back.

Maya tucked her lips in at his words and she sighed, she didn’t fight with him on it she’d fought one man for several years already. She rested her hand against her chest, before she adjusted the v-neck top a bit. “Okay” she said to him as he prepared to leave only for him to state that he wanted her to come with him and she nodded her head moving to follow him and she stuck her hands into her jean pockets quietly.

Walking to the back, Israel flicked on a light switch and he said, “this is the back room,” with a hum. “It doubles as the break room and the storage room,” he told her, pointing to the small kitchenette area in the corner and then to some boxes off to the side before he gestured to the small round table and four chairs, “that door is the bathroom,” he pointed to it before he walked over and turned the knob, opening the door to show her. Closing the door back he said, “and this door is the cleaning closet,” he said as he opened the door and stepped inside. He reached up and turned on the light from the chain hanging from the ceiling and illuminated the room filled with boxes, cleaning products, and etcetera. “Still pretty stocked,” he said observing out loud.

Maya followed behind the man and she nodded her head as he showed her the backroom. He pointed out the various spots in the space including the bathroom and she nodded her head again. He opened a door to the cleaning closet, and she nodded her head at him a third time looking at the space and what was inside of it. “Okay” she told him.

Israel looked at Maya as she stood there just outside the room, so hesitant and quiet. Taking her in, he let out a hum and he said, “I don’t bite,” with a chuckle, wanting her to relax, just a bit. Turning from her, he grabbed some cleaner and an actual rag, holding them in his hand easily before he snatched up the broom with a hum. “Let’s just do a bit of dusting and sweeping today,” he said, “then if you’re comfortable, we can map out sometimes to come and really whip this place back into shape,” he hummed out thoughtfully. “When we leave here later, do you want to grab a bite to eat?” he asked her now as he turned off the light and stepped out of the room with the items in his hand.

Maya nibbled her lip at his words, she didn’t move however instead she kept put until he grabbed the items they needed. “Sounds good” she told him, nodding her head at his words. “Okay” she added with a shrug “not like I have anything to do these days” she told him. “Of course… does it look like I’d pass up a meal?” she asked him as she moved out of the doorway.

Israel closed the door behind him as he managed to grip all of the items in his large hand as he nodded at Maya before his face scrunched. He gazed at her, blinking slowly. “I wish you wouldn’t do that,” he sighed out softly as he looked into her eyes.

At his words she raised her brows to her hairline “wish I didn’t do what?” Maya asked him curiously. She wasn’t trying to upset him or bother him in any way. Hence why she kept herself so quiet to begin with. She licked her lips and moved out of his way, as she looked down at the floor.

“Talk down about yourself and to yourself,” Israel said gently as he took her in, letting his eyes roll over her curves for a moment before he looked back into her eyes. “There’s absolutely nothing wrong with the way that you look,” he explained to her softly as he handed her the broom, with the dustpan hooked onto it.

Maya looked at him and she didn’t say anything, he like everyone else was just pretending she wasn’t huge and disgusting to look at. She grabbed the broom in her hand and moved to walk back towards the door slowly.

As she said nothing, Israel pulled his bottom lip into his mouth and he followed behind her with a hum. Damn, her husband had really messed her up bad. It was a shame. Maya was so beautiful. Shaking his head, he moved into the main space and began to dust off the shelves, spraying a bit of the cleaner to help.

#thread #thread: helping hand #thread: israel bronx

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