#and then another couple days adjusting his strategy for each of his friends

[batfam-belfry]

they're so civil about it too

[maddiwrites]

Family Troubles

Pairing: JJ x Routledge!Reader, mostly John B x Routledge!Reader sibling dynamic 

Summary: (Requested) After the death of your brother, you move to the mainland with a nice foster family. Months later, you get the biggest shock of your life that leaves you questioning what you want.

Note: I’m so sorry this took so long. I hope this is what you were looking for!

Word Count: 4.6k

You peek your eyes open to another sunny autumn day as your alarm echos off the walls of your room through your phone. For the first time in a long time, you didn’t dread the day ahead of you. Because you feel like you’re finally living a life worth living. 

It’s been about three months since John B disappeared. The worst three months of your life. You never would have imagined living a life without your twin brother. It was lonely and heart wrenching. You didn’t think you would get through it. And living with the Cameron’s didn’t make your life any easier. Ward tried blocking you off from the rest of the world. He was afraid of what you could do to his reputation despite knowing most people wouldn’t believe you. You were just a Pogue with a criminal background.Your word means nothing to Kooks and cops alike. Nonetheless, Ward didn’t want to take any chances. 

It wasn’t until you finally got in touch with Cheryl, your social worker, that your life started to change for the better. You couldn’t believe the irony of running to your social worker for help when you’ve been running away from her all summer. Surprisingly, she did hear you. She listened to you. She believed you! Although there wasn’t much she could do about Ward, she could help you get out from under his neglectful guardianship. 

She placed you in a foster home with an eager Spanish American couple on the main land. Of course you weren’t ecstatic about it. Foster care was never something you wanted to be placed in. Especially without your brother. But at the time, anything was better than living with Ward Cameron. 

The worst part of the process was telling your best friends. Kie and Pope, although disappointed, were happy for you because they knew this was what was best for you. JJ, however, didn’t understand how you could be so cool calm and collected about moving. Losing you to Figure Eight was hard enough and now he was going to have open water separating you two? He didn’t cope well with the news. He barely talked to you as you gathered your stuff to leave, almost didn’t show up to say his final goodbye with Kie and Pope. But he came as you were about to get on the ferry with Cheryl. The two of you cried and told each other you were sorry. You kissed his cheek and slipped a small piece of paper with your new address into his pockets. JJ reluctantly let you go with a promise that he will visit you as soon as he could and you believed him. Because he was your best friend, your soul mate, and partner in crime.

JJ saves up every week to take the ferry to visit you. He usually comes every Sunday, respecting your foster parents’ wishes that he not stay the night. At first they were wary of him coming over - they know about your past from the social worker and the News and how JJ was a part of it. They wanted you to have a new beginning. A fresh start. They believed you when you said your brother wasn’t a murderer and that you and your friends did nothing wrong. They were just afraid that JJ would convince you to come back to the Outer Banks (which he’s tried), or make you regress to past trouble making behaviors. But you explained to Maria and Luis, your foster parents, how important JJ is to you and that he needed to be a part of you life no matter where you were living. So they allowed him weekend visits, always making sure to keep an eye on you when he was here. 

Someone lightly taps on your door until you say, “Come in.” 

Maria pokes her head in and smiles when she sees you’re awake. “Morning, honey. Your appointment is in thirty minutes. Will you be ready to leave soon?”

You offer her a smile and nod. “Yeah, I’ll be down in ten.”

Maria nods. “Okay.”

She closes the door gently, leaving you alone to get ready for your appointment with your therapist. You agreed with your new foster parents to go to therapy once a week. They thought it would help you move on and grow and get rid of the nightmares that sometimes terrorize you at night. You went because you felt like you owed it to them to make an effort. They weren’t like the other foster couples you hear horror stories about. If they were gonna be there for you, you were gonna be there for them too. 

The therapy sessions were working. You’re more open to talking about what you went through. The therapist never gave you any inclination that she was judging you or analyzing you. She just listened and asked you how you were feeling about everything. She helped you adjust to this new life on the mainland and taught you new coping strategies that didn’t involve getting into fights or arguing with the cops. She helped you through your anxiety about starting a new school and making new friends. She even prescribed you some anxiety meds that helped with your nightmares and panic attacks.

Both Maria and Luis drive you to your therapy appointment. You silently question why the both of them felt the need to accompany you to your appointment. You mentally list all the reasons as to why they both would want to come when usually it’s just one or the other. You’re too afraid to ask, thinking they’re about to drop a bomb on you and send you back to the island. You don’t want to hear it, procrastinating the inevitable for as long as possible. 

When Dr. Hildegard greets you in the waiting room, she waves not only you but your foster parents as well into her office. The three of you take a seat on the brown leather couch in front of her chair. You awkwardly glance between your therapist and your foster parents, trying to read the room. You dig your nails into the skin of your hand to keep yourself calm, focusing on the slight stinging pain it leaves you.

“Good morning, Y/N,” Dr. Hildegard says. She takes notice of your fidgeting hands and smiles. “I know you must be confused and anxious right now. But Maria and Luis have something they want to ask you and felt you would be more comfortable having this conversation with me present.”

“Okay...” You say wearily. 

Luis and Maria hold each other’s hands as they turn to look at you. You feel a little better when you see a smile on their face, making you think it isn’t going to be bad news. 

“Y/N, how would feel about officially being a part of our family?”

You glance between your therapist and your foster parents and tilt your head in confusion. “I don’t understand...”

“Y/N,” Dr. Hildegard says. “Maria and Luis would like to adopt you.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Meanwhile, back at the Outer Banks, JJ is getting ready to leave his house to make the last ferry to the mainland. He had to pick up another shift to afford another boat ride and a date for tonight, which left him racing against the clock.

Someone knocks on his front door. “Shit,” He curses and looks at the clock. 3:04. He needed to leave twenty minutes ago. He doesn’t have time to talk to anyone right now. He figures it’s his dad’s probation officer or druggie looking for money. So he ignores it so he can find his wallet. 

But the knocking persists. 

“Fuck,” JJ grunts and storms to the front door. “He’s not here -”

JJ freezes as he rips the door open. He didn’t know who he was going to find, but he definitely wasn’t expecting his dead best friend to be standing on his door step. 

John B smirks up at his shocked reaction. “Hey, stud. Miss me?”

JJ’s brain is doing flips inside his skull, knocking around with so many questions and curses and phrases and shouts. But with that is the immense excitement and relief that takes over his entire body. 

JJ jumps on him and wraps his arms around his best friend’s shoulders. Tears inevitably prick his eyes and he physically holds onto John B. He’s in utter disbelief. He never thought he would get this opportunity again. To see and hold his best friend - the best friend that’s supposed to be dead. 

“Wow. Who knew JJ Maybank could get so emotional?” John B jokes, trying to hide his own tears through his laugh. 

JJ removes himself from John B and shoves him back by the shoulders lightly. He wipes his upper lips with the back of his hand and sniffles back the rest of his tears. “Shut up, bro.” JJ narrows his eyes at the dead man in front of him and asks, “What the fuck happened? Where’s Sarah? Is she -”

"Sarah’s fine. We’re trying to lay low right now. No one knows we’re back.”

“What -”

“Look, I know you’re confused and there’s so much I need to tell you guys, but first I need to see my sister.” John B says with a sweet grin on his lips at the mention of his sister. He was most excited to see her - his first best friend and partner in crime. “Is she here?” JJ’s face falls at the mention of Y/N because he doesn’t know how John B is going to take the news that she’s no longer on the island. John B notices JJ’s hesitation and immediately get’s worried. “Where’s Y/N, JJ?”

“She’s not here.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

You trail behind Maria and Luis as they unlock the front door to their house. The car ride home was awkwardly silent. You didn’t know what to say.

“Oh...” You said. You weren’t expecting that. You thought they’d be telling you the complete opposite. Yet, you didn’t know how to feel about their proposition. 

Maria and Luis looked at Dr. Hildegard for some insight or ice breaker since you froze up on the spot. You looked back down at your hand and pressed your nails even harder into your skin, leaving half crescent moons indented in your palm. 

Dr. Hildegard kept her calm smile and said softly, “Why don’t Y/N and I speak alone and I’ll grab you guys at the end?”

Maria and Luis, although a little disappointed by your reaction, agreed and stepped out of the room.

When the two of you were alone, Dr. Hildegard asked, “How are you feeling right now, Y/N?”

“I uh...” You stammered. “I don’t know. Shocked, I guess.”

“Usually when kids in foster care are offered adoption, they’re excited. Do you like living with Maria and Luis?”

“Yeah, they’re great. It’s just...” The last time someone offered to take you in as part of their family, it didn’t end well. It changed your life for the worst, you lost your only living family member left, and is the reason why you were here today. Although foster care isn’t that much different, you didn’t expect to stay with Maria and Luis past 18 years old. 

“Rebuilding a sense of trust can be difficult after past traumas. But taking those necessary steps, of letting new people in your life, can help you over those humps.”

“Why don’t you get ready for volleyball practice? I’ll take you there when you’re ready,” Luis says as the three of you walked inside. 

You nod silently and quickly hide in your room. You fall back on your bed that suddenly feels different than it did this morning. Like a reminder that it didn’t belong to you.

But maybe it could. 

You get changed for volleyball in a pair of spandex and a t shirt. When you close the drawer, something falls on your dresser, catching your attention. 

You pick up the fallen picture frame of you, John B, and the rest of the Pogues on Memorial Day Weekend. Kie had taken a selfie with all of you making silly faces at the camera in the middle of the marsh. That day always brings back amazing memories for you. Oh how you wished you could have another day like that. 

You stare a little longer at John B in that photo. What would he say if he was with you right now? Would he say yes to Maria and Luis like he did to Ward? Or would he encourage you to be more careful about who you trust with your life?

Maria knocks on your door and says, “You ready, sweetheart?” 

You place the frame back on the dresser and walk out into the hall to meet her. “Yes.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

“So this couple....” John B says as he follows JJ off the ferry on the mainland. 

“Maria and Luis,” JJ says. On the way here, he told John B everything. About how horrendous your life was after John B “died.” How Ward treated you like a prisoner. How you practically begged Cheryl to help you. How you ended up on the mainland with a lovely married couple. 

“Are they...nice?”

JJ shrugs. “They seem like good people. You can tell they don’t like me around, but that might just be because they associate me with all the bad shit that happened to us because of Ward.”

“Does she like it here?” John B says as he takes in his new surroundings. As he and JJ walk towards your neighborhood, which isn’t too far from the ferry, he thinks about what your life could become here. Nice neighborhoods, friendly towns. It’s definitely better than the Cut. But it wasn’t home. 

“She’s learning to, I think,” JJ answers honestly. “She doesn’t like being so far away from the Pogues.”

“Yeah, I can understand the feeling,” John B says. Although it was nice to have Sarah around while they were gone, he couldn’t help but feel like a giant chunk of his heart was missing. And that was the Pogues. 

“This is it,” JJ says as they reach the end of a short driveway on the outskirts of town. A two story baby blue home with white shutters and a rose bush. Bigger than the houses on the Cut and smaller than the houses on Figure Eight. 

“This is where she’s been staying?” John B asks. Something swarms inside his brain. He doesn’t know if it’s betrayal or jealousy. 

“Yup,” JJ says, popping the ‘p’, “Her room is on the side.”

JJ knocks on the front door and looks down at his watch while he waits. Somehow, he managed to be about ten minutes early. Probably because of John B’s hustle to find his sister as soon as possible. 

Luis opens the door with a friendly grin that quickly falters when he sees who accompanies JJ. 

“Good Afternoon, Mr. Morales. Is Y/N, here?”

Luis looks between the boys and inhales a deep breath. He knows John B from the pictures on the News, the stories in the paper, and the cries of his name when Y/N was terrorized with nightmares in the beginning of her stay. 

Although the adoption process just started, he and his wife felt like they were finally forming a family-like bond with Y/N. Dr. Hildegard suggested starting over would be in Y/N’s best interest, encouraging new friendships, joining extracurricular activities at school, staying away from the Outer Banks for a while. Luis and Maria made an exception for JJ, seeing how happy he truly made Y/N. But they never expected to see John B. 

And he didn’t know what that meant for his family. 

John B notices Luis’s hesitation and politely holds out his hand. “I’m John Booker Routledge. Y/N’s brother.” 

Luis reluctantly shakes his hand, although apprehensive, never rude. He coughs awkwardly and looks back at JJ without saying a word to John B. “Tonight’s not a good night -”

“What do you mean? Sunday’s our day. She didn’t tell me she was busy -”

“I’m sorry, son. Maybe next week.” Luis shuts the door before JJ or John B could argue. 

John B knocks again and even rings the doorbell. “Mr. Morales! Hey! Come back!”

“Here,” JJ pulls John B by his arm. “Come here.”

JJ and John B round to the side of the house where your window sits right under the middle point of the roof. JJ find’s the nearest and smallest rock and tosses it up at the glass of your window. 

“What are you? Fucking, Romeo?” John B glares at his friend.

“You have a better idea?” JJ glares right back. “Trust me. I wouldn’t put it past Mr. Morales to call the cops if we kept banging on his door. They’re pretty protective of Y/N, which means they’ve never been truly fond of me.”

“Maybe she’s not here,” John B suggests. 

“She’s always -”

JJ freezes when he hears a car pull into the driveway. They both look at each other before walking back to the front of the house. JJ notices Maria first when she steps out of the car. She has a smilier reaction to John B as her husband which makes John B bounce on his toes nervously. 

You don’t see him at first, with your back turned to grab your bag. Then you spot him immediately. 

You stiffen when you see both JJ and....your dead brother standing on the lawn.  Suddenly your mouth feels dry and your heart is beating the crap out of your ribs. 

“Y/N...” Maria says wearily. 

“Hey, Dimples,” John B says with a smile, using the nickname he and your father use to call you when you were younger due to the deep pits in your cheeks when you smiled. 

Your eyes shift to JJ who looks at you with pinched eye brows. He was expecting a different reaction. One where you run into your brother’s arms and squeeze the shit out of him in a tight hug. 

But instead, you were feeling numb. You never expected to be face to face with your brother ever again. You convinced yourself he was really dead because holding onto hope that he was still alive was slowly killing you and even holding you back. You needed closure and that closure was accepting the truth that John B was dead and to never be found.

Yet, here he is. Standing and breathing and watching your reaction with a hurt expression. 

“Y/N...” Maria says again and lightly touches your shoulder. 

“I’m fine,” You finally speak, flinching at the way your throat feels scratchy. You swallow and turn to Maria and offer a polite grin. “I’ll be right in.”

“I don’t know...”

“Please, Maria,” You say, this time a tad more forceful but not rude. 

Maria hesitantly nods and blocks herself away with the front door. 

“I - I don’t - “ You huff. “How?”

“The Phantom...” John B licks his lips nervously. “Capsized...and Sarah and I...well...a shipment boat found us. Took us right to the Bahamas.”

“The Bahamas?” You repeat, taking two steps closer to him. 

“Yes. There’s so much I have to tell you -”

“Like the part where you couldn’t call?” You say accusingly. 

John B sighs. He should have expected it, but he didn’t prepare for it. He thought you’d be happy to see him, but now he’s realizing how hurt and confused he’s truly left you.

“It’s a long story -”

“Yeah, I’d expect the summary of your last few months to be a long one.” You look at JJ. “Did you know about this?”

JJ shakes his head. “He showed up on my way here.”

John B sighs. “Look, I’m sorry I didn’t find a way to contact you, but we couldn’t! We didn’t want the cops realizing we were alive and we were looking for the gold -”

“The gold?” You laugh humorlessly and your hands run up your head to your scalp. Your fingers tug on the roots of your hair in frustration. “The gold’s gone!”

“It’s not! If you would just listen -”

“I don’t want to listen, John B! Because I don’t care about the gold. That gold took everything from me!” You yell as tears begin to build in your eyes, thinking back to what happened last summer. “I lost Dad, you, my home... I can only see my boyfriend once a week. And I was treated like a prisoner in the house of a murderer!”

“I know that it couldn’t have been easy for you but -”

“No. You have no idea what it was like for me when you were gone. Because you weren’t there!” You cry. “You left! You were living it up in the Bahamas, searching for gold, while the rest of us cried over your death and suffered the consequences!” Tears were now silently streaming down both John B’s cheeks and JJ’s as they watched you break down. “I couldn't sleep for weeks. I barely ate. Ward locked me in a room so I couldn’t tell anyone about what he did.”

“I’m sorry,” John B says. “I’m so sorry. I’ll make it up to you. Back home -”

“Home?” You scoff, shaking your head. “I have a home.”

“This isn’t your home,” John B says defensively. 

“It has been. For the past few months. But you wouldn’t know that, would you?” You say with a glare. You look at the house behind him, noticing Maria and Luis snooping through the curtains of the window. You think back on what happened today and the options you had. At first it was a hard decision to make and now it’s damn right near impossible. “Maria and Luis offered to adopt me.” You say honestly.

John B inhales sharply and JJ furrows his brows. 

“What?” John B says.

“I didn’t give them an answer yet. But this is an opportunity to start over.”

John B glares at you. “Think about your family!”

“I am!” 

You suddenly feel exhausted and weak, like the day has lasted over twenty four hours. Your head begins to throb and your neck aches. 

You sigh, “Look, I’m happy you’re all right and safe and unharmed, from the looks of it. But...I just need some time. Okay?”

“Y/N...”

“Please, John B?” You’re practically begging. 

John B sighs and reluctantly nods his head at your request. At the end of the day, you owe him nothing and he owes you everything.

“Okay,” He agrees. 

You walk past him without giving him a hug or anything, afraid you’ll break down in sobs and follow his lead back to the Outer Banks. But you need to be strong and figure out what it is you need in life, tired of following the path that always leaves you broken and alone. 

You kiss JJ’s cheek as you walk by him. “I’ll call you tomorrow.” 

JJ squeezes your hand before you disappear into your house. When the door shuts behind you, you slid down it onto the floor, finally letting your sobs wrack through your body. Maria and Luis run to comfort you to the best of their ability, but they don’t know how to truly help you. 

Later that night, over a cup of tea, you tell Maria and Luis everything. From start to finish. How your dad was obsessed with finding the Royal Merchant, to the compass, to Ward taking you in, finding out he murdered your father and covered up Sheriff Peterkin’s murder by using your own brother. 

Maria and Luis glance at each other nervously. They know how important family is, which is why they want you a part of theirs so badly. But they never want to take you away from one you already have and love. 

“I think you should think long and hard about what you want over the next couple of days,” Luis says. “And we’ll help you in any way we can.”

“I’m sorry,” You say, wiping away your tears with a napkin. “I know you didn’t sign up for this.”

“Honey,” Maria says, wiping another tear with her thumb. “We don’t want you to worry about that. This changes nothing for us, okay?”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

The next day at dinner, Maria and Luis sit you down and offer eager grins. Just like they did at your last therapy appointment. 

“Y/N...we have something we’d like to discuss with you,” Luis says.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

With the help of JJ, you meet John B at the Wreck with the others for a civilized conversation. Now that you’ve had a few days to think and calm down, you’re able to really appreciate how lucky you are to have John B back in your life. 

When you see him standing in the middle of the restaurant, you run to him and squeeze him around his waist as he wraps his arms around your shoulders. You cry into his T shirt, telling him how sorry you are for your outburst. 

“It’s okay,” John B cries into your hair. “You don’t have to be sorry. I should be the one apologizing.” 

You pull away and wipe away your tears. “I think we’ve both been through hell and back and did what he had to do to survive. Neither of us should apologize.”

After giving the other Pogues a hug, the five of you sit down and recap each other’s last three months. John B tells you about his time in the Bahamas, how Sarah is laying low until she gets her shit figured out with her own family, and you describe life at a new town and a new school.

“It’s weird. There’s no division. No Kooks vs. Pogues. I don’t know if I like it or miss my enemies,” You say.

When the five of you are ready to say your goodbyes, you pull John b aside and say, “Actually, I think there’s a couple of people I’d like you to meet.” John B furrows his brows and follows you to a park where Maria and Luis are waiting at a picnic table.

When they see the two of you approaching, they stand and reach out to shake John B’s hand, officially introducing themselves and apologizing for being rude a week ago. 

“It’s okay. I understand,” John B says. “Thank you for taking care of my sister.”

“Pleasure’s all ours,” Luis smiles. “We’re lucky to be able to meet you.”

“Y/N’s told us such great things,” Maria adds. 

You roll your eyes playfully and look at John B to read his face. He seems to be enjoying himself. 

“That’s a first,” He even jokes and looks your way.

“There’s actually something we wanted to ask you,” Luis says and takes his wife’s hand like he did at Dr. Hildegard’s. He looks at you to see if you want to explain. “Y/N...”

You take a deep breath and face your brother. “I have agreed to be adopted by Maria and Luis.”

“But -” 

“Let me finish,” You cut John B off. “We talked about it and the three of us are going to move back to the Outer Banks to be closer to you and the Pogues.”

“But...” Maria says like a song with an excited grin.

You mirror her smile and say, “But...Maria and Luis want to know if you would like to a be a part of their family too?”

John B’s brows jump up in surprise. “Seriously?”

“I know it’s a big decision,” Luis says.

“And if you need time, that’s fine,” You say. “But, I think this will be good for the both of us.”

John B looks between you and your foster parents, who he can tell care about you greatly. Of course he wants that too, but just like you were, he’s nervous.

“Are you sure about this?” He says softly as to not offend the couple in front of him.

“Yes,” You nod. “I’m sure.”

John B inhales a deep breath and nods. “Okay. I’m in.”

[wantedbetterforyou]

Missed you (D.H.)

Diego Hargreeves x reader

summary: There’s nothing better than couple reunions. Even in 1963 Dallas, you and Diego find each other and are eager to catch up.

“I think I got everything we need for the next few days” you call out into Elliot’s loft, expecting anyone home to reply. Sighing as you release the brown paper bags onto the wooden table. You’re relieved to be doing this, true be told when you arrived in 1962 you hadn’t expected anyone else to be here too.

You searched for anyone from the Hargreeves family for days. Returning to the Alley way multiple times before giving up and trying to adjust to life in the 60’s. ‘If the timeline’s getting fucked because I’m here might as well make it count’ you reasoned with yourself while becoming involved in local politics. It wasn’t a group of hundreds or thousands meeting to discuss strategies, instead it was groups of 15 or so meeting in black-owned establishments. That’s how you fortunately met Allison, when the meeting you attended was hosted at the salon she had been working at. You’d been staying in a spare room at her home since. You often returned to the Elliot’s store under the guise of needing a new TV, but foolishly desired Diego would drop out of the sky one of those moments.  

You walk into the dimly-lit living room area to find Diego and Five discussing among themselves. You feel the air leave your lungs as your throat dries, Diego is really here. He looks different, longer hair, a beard rather than his usual stubble, and he looks stockier. What a sight for sore eyes. He’s tucking in his black shirt into his pants before he spots you, blissfully unaware that the same person he’s spent months thinking about is right in front of him. “Diego” you say just above a whisper, afraid that any louder and this fantasy would disappear, but it’s real. He’s real and he’s taking huge strides before you and you almost begin to speak again before he gently holds the sides of your face tenderly and pulls you into a passionate kiss.

You’re eyes flutter shut immediately, and you melt into his hands. Shock was your initial reaction to the sudden kiss, but your muscle memory kicked in and even you’re surprised your body still recognizes his touch after so long. It’s electrifying kissing him for the first time in months and if you could see yourselves now you’re sure it looks like a movie kiss.

You pull away first but cover your hands around his, making sure to keep them firmly planted on your sides. Then you’re stuttering and struggling to get a single sentence out. So much to tell Diego, you’re sure you could write a book about it. Your mind is racing and words still can’t seem to come out, all you can do is smile at him and laugh at how unbelievable the situation is. After a few moments of intense eye-contact, his features soften even more. He takes in your outfit. Something you would’ve never wore in 2019, yet here you were in a sunshine yellow colored dress that has a ribbon around the waist to accentuate your features. It is also adored with a collar and goes past your knees, it is the 60’s after all. “Holy fuck, I mean look at me” you finally express, letting your hands off of his to motion towards your dress and hair. You look good he tells you, giving you a once over as if he hadn’t been doing that since he noticed you. “I look like a housewife” you pause, “but you? You look really good” letting your arm rest gripping his biceps. When you meet his eyes again, he’s looking at you with such intensity you might explode.

“So how many siblings is it you actually have?” you hear an accented voice question wandering into the room, she vigilantly watches you from her position against the door frame. “This is my partner from 2019” he explains, glancing at you briefly before directing his attention back to her. You aren’t sure why you feel this pang of insecurity hit you and to find relief from it, you intertwine your hand with his. “And in the current present too” you add, squeezing his hand for reassurance. She chooses to ignore your responses and directs her attention to Five and Diego again, questioning what they plan on doing as soon as they find Reginald Hargreeves.

Five insisted that they leave now as to not waste anymore time but Diego managed to spare a few minutes to be alone with you.

“I don’t think your friend really likes me” you mention while casually caressing his face and tucking his long strands away from his face. His hands interlocked behind the small of your back in order to be as close as possible. You never imagined Diego with long hair - in fact he kept himself very clean cut in modern times, you’d have to ask him about the cause of his drastic change. The new look isn’t unwelcome though, if cameras were more ready available during this time period you’d memorize this moment forever. Diego needs into the touch and allows himself close his eyes. He’d never fully let his guard down but moments like these, he’s the most vulnerable. He still doesn’t know how to ask for the things he desperately wants but you’ve learn to read him.

Prior to the time travel, your relationship had gone through every stage there was. At the beginning neither could get enough of the other. There were nights Diego closed up the gym and waited so he could bend you over on the ring and nights where you both took your time. Kissing and licking every part of one another, you had fallen into a comfortable bliss of sex when wanted and could let each other know with the simplistic of body language tics.

Suddenly very aware of how little distance exist between Diego and you, you calculate the next moves precisely. First letting your arms to drop to his hips and walk backwards until you hit the bed. This maneuver being muscle memory after so many nights spent in the gym boiler room. Hitting the bed with a slight bounce you quickly get back to work, undoing his belt and pulling him towards the bed and on top of you. He’s quick to catch your lips in a heated kiss before using his arms on the sides of your head to prop himself up. It dips as he debates kissing you again. You’re breathlessly looking at him, flushed and the way you’re staring at him makes him want to take you right then and there. You’ve got a dress on and he thinks about 10 different positions he could make you cum in without having to take off his clothes but debates against this. Five needs him, they have to follow through with the lead.

“Please, I need you” you sound just as desperate as you actually are but it’s been so long that shame is taking the backseat today. He breaks the eye contact first. Letting his head hang and sighing before completely removing his weight off your body. “I’m still me under this dress” you try to remove tension from the situation with a joke, you don’t want to take the rejection personally. You stand up patting down any creases that might have formed on the dress. “It’s not that, I have to go” He immediately responds, sensing the insecurity in your order and wanting to do anything to dissipate it. There isn’t enough words to express how relieved he is to see you and how BAD he wants you too but alas. “The dress looks good. You look so good. When I’m done with this shit, I’m going to fuck you all night” adjusting his belt and nodding his head towards the bed.

You take another good look at him, his beard still sticking out to you. Imagining the feeling of his beard against your most sensitive  nether regions is too much to bear. Your thighs clench at the thought.

note: How do y’all write the canon story and not accidentally fuck up little things? oh well. If you liked this, like/reblog please. Yes this is a repost, not sure why I don’t show up in tags :(

[excelsi-or]

your type (pt. 9)

Hello wonderful people!! I started a summer job and have been reading a SHIT ton, so I haven’t been writing as much. But I’m kinda back into this story again, and we’re about past halfway so I think we can get this done. :) I hope you’ve all been well~~

w.c. 3.1k (yeah, i’m not apologizing for length anymore. i hope you’re all cool with that lol)

pairing: jihoon x OC/reader

pt. 1; pt. 2; pt. 3; pt. 4; pt. 5; pt. 6; pt. 7; pt. 8

“You have a new boyfriend,” Jungkook says the next time they meet up for lunch in the fall semester.

She shrugs, studying her mug. “I guess so.”

He lifts an eyebrow. “You’re still apprehensive.”

“It’s only been 2 months.”

“That’s enough time to know, don’t you think?”

She shakes her head. “It really isn’t.”

Jungkook rests his chin in his palm. “I told you I loved you after two months.”

“We were young and naïve then.”

With a smirk, he doesn’t bother to point out that that first ‘I love you’ had been only three years ago. “Well, how does he feel?”

“Not sure.”

“Trust your instincts on this,” Jungkook encourages. “You have amazing intuition. You told me before I’d even fully moved in with Taehyung that I’d probably wind up dating him.”

“I said that because Taehyung is a good looking, intelligent man and anyone would date him if they were in his proximity long enough.”

Jungkook snorts. “I guess that’s a fair point. But come on. What’s your gut telling you?”

“My gut says that it’s confused,” she replies honestly. “I can’t gauge how honest he is with me.”

“You can’t compare him and Byunggu. No one knew that Byunggu was going to blindside you like that.”

She chuckles. “Do you know how much he’s come up in the last few months? I haven’t talked about him in forever, and all of a sudden, he’s just the topic of every conversation.”

“New boyfriend will do that. Especially after what happened last time.”

She runs a hand through her hair.

“As someone who has dated you, trust me when I say, you’re an all-in kind of lover.” He nudges her fingers with his. “So just go all in.”

“Go all in? And then?”

“Well, if you get hurt in the end, we’re here. You have people around you to hold you up and take care of you. But you can’t go into every relationship anticipating an end.”

She studies the chai in her mug, the way it ripples when she moves her hands even a little. “I guess you’re right.”

Jihoon (13:41)

Hey, lemme know when you’re done at lunch.

Got some stuff I want you to hear before we head home.

Jungkook nods his head towards the phone lighting up at her elbow. “Is that him?”

She nods.

“Are you going to reply?”

“He wants to know when I’m done with you so he can show me something he’s working on.” She fires off a quick text.

“Works in progress?”

“I guess they’ve been less and less finished, yeah.”

Jungkook hums. “If Yoongi hyung were here, he’d say that means Jihoon really likes you.”

She finds Jihoon in the studio an hour later. Bumzu, one of the TAs, had directed her to the studio when she’d appeared in the music building.

“You’re legendary,” Bumzu had said. “Anyone who’s had Jihoon’s attention this long is legendary.”

She’d had no response for that.

Gently, she touches Jihoon’s arm to make him aware of her presence. Jihoon looks up at her and slides his headphones off. Wordlessly, he passes them to her, and she takes a seat in the spare chair. With her feet up, and her knees hugged to her chest, she listens.

“Can you bring up the sound of the piano? The bass seems to be overpowering it.”

She does this for an hour, and he adjusts as they go along. By the end of it, Jihoon is thoroughly pleased with how the song’s turned out.

“I wish I was as useful for your chemistry research,” Jihoon chuckles. He takes the headphones and puts them on the desk. “You going home?”

“No, I actually have dinner plans.”

Jihoon tilts his head at that. “You do?”

“Correction, we have dinner plans.”

“We do?”

“Jihyo told me to tell you that we’re going for dinner with her and Seungcheol.”

Jihoon’s sweet questioning face quickly changes into something of disgust. “Ew. A double date?”

“I think Jihyo wants to tell me something.”

“And Cheol and I need to be there? Why?”

She shrugs. “I have no idea.” She kisses the top of his head as she stands. “But you need to be ready by 5:30, okay? So, no spending the night here.”

Jihoon hums his agreement. He catches her hand and tugs her back towards him. He pouts up at her until she concedes to a kiss, a bemused smile on her face.

As she closes the studio door behind her, she bumps into someone. Stumbling away from her is a girl she recognizes but can’t place.

The other woman recognizes her first. “You’re Wheein’s friend, aren’t you?”

It takes her a moment. “Byulyi?”

Byulyi smiles at her. Her eyes dart to the door she’d walked out of and the smile on her face falters. “How are you?”

“Good. Just heading home.”

“You taking a music class this semester?” Byulyi asks, her eyes flicking to the door again.

“Oh.” She gets the meaning and the looks. “No. Just visiting someone.”

“Lee Jihoon?”

She holds her breath for another story and Byulyi doesn’t fail her. They start to walk towards the exit.

“If you’re friends with Wheein, you must be a nice person.”

She questions the connection, but doesn’t press that point. “And?”

“So,” Byulyi smirks, “why are you hanging around Lee Jihoon? The man’s manipulative and a swindler. He’ll con you of the love you have to give and leave you heartbroken.”

They push out into the sunlight, enveloped by the dying heat of the day. “He knows the right words to say and he knows exactly when to say them to get to you.”

If she hasn’t learned that already, then she’s an idiot. With a deep breath, she thanks Byulyi for the anecdote and the information. Byulyi is on the list of women Jihoon’s dated. These women follow her around now; the stories are variations of each other.

And at this point, she really doesn’t know what to do with them.

“I heard another one.” She sets her backpack down at the end of the dining table.

Jihyo glances up from her evolution flashcards. “Who?”

“Moon Byulyi.”

It only takes Jihyo a second to place the name. “Wheein’s music friend?”

“Yeah.” She empties her backpack on the table and then takes her water bottle to the sink to refill it. “I don’t know what to make of it. Apparently other people know Jihoon and I are…” She struggles to find a word.

“Dating?” Jihyo chuckles.

“I haven’t told him that his exes keep telling all his secrets.”

“I promise you, the look on his face when he looks at you isn’t one of a man who’s in for the sex or even just for the chase. He’s in. For all of that and all of you. I promise you that.”

The boys are already sat at a table when the girls arrive. Seungcheol pulls Jihyo’s chair out, and Jihoon looks conflicted as to whether he should do the same. Smirking, she slips into the chair next to him. She doesn’t kiss his cheek like Jihyo. She grabs his hand under the table and gives it a squeeze.

“Have you looked at the menu?” she asks him.

Jihoon shakes his head. “Not yet.”

She studies him for a moment. “Do you trust me to order for you?”

At this offer, Jihoon tilts his head. “Go ahead.”

Conversation is light. They play rounds of cards while they wait for the food. When Jihoon wins the last round of Shit Head, Jihyo and Seungcheol roll their eyes.

“You guys can’t win every game.”

She laughs. “You guys just aren’t good at games of speed.”

“Or strategy,” Jihoon adds with a smile.

Seungcheol stacks the cards as the food arrives. She leans towards Jihoon as she names the various foods before him. He’s pleasantly surprised at the range. There are foods that he will definitely eat, and a few that are out of his comfort zone but aren’t off-putting.

“So, what do you have to tell us?” Jihoon asks once everyone’s tucked in.

With his head bowed towards his plate, practically shovelling food into his mouth, Seungcheol answers, “We’re dating.”

Jihyo hits his arm.

“What?” Seungcheol lifts his head slightly to look over at Jihyo. “Did you want to make it a big deal?” He straightens up and looks at the couple across him. “We have decided that we are only going to see each other. Be exclusive.”

It takes a lot of effort to keep from laughing. Jihyo hasn’t had any other man over in the last month and a half. This isn’t surprising. The formal announcement is.

“That’s great.” Jihoon’s focus also seems to be on the food as opposed to the actual conversation. She nudges him with her elbow and he puts his chopsticks down. He mimics Seungcheol’s formality. “Seriously. This is excellent news.”

With a good-natured roll of her eyes, Jihyo meets Jihoon’s gaze. “The way you’ve committed, Jihoon, it’s really made us reevaluate.”

Jihoon furrows his brow at Seungcheol, but his friend won’t look at him.

Later that night, back in the safety of their apartment, Jihoon demands, “What the hell did you tell Jihyo?”

Seungcheol raises his hands in defense. “She asked me last month what my take on your relationship was! I couldn’t just tell her you were in it for a bet! I actually like Jihyo. I wasn’t going to tell her that your relationship was a façade. The only reason she decided to even give me a chance is because you’d been given a chance.”

Jihoon’s gaze could level mountains. “You straight up lied to her.”

“It was that or tell her that we bet on your relationship. You don’t understand how protective they are of her.”

Jihoon shakes his head in frustration. “What?”

“Byunggu?”

“Holy shit. What’s wrong with him? Isn’t he an actor or something?” Jihoon is almost tired of hearing about this ex-boyfriend.

“They threatened to ruin his entire career by blasting it on social media how awful a person he is. The girls have receipts. Even if your girl’s deleted all the messages and rid him from her life, her friends are holding onto them.”

Well, at least Jihoon knows the other man’s definitely not castrated.

“So, yeah, I lied a little about how real your emotions are.”

“Jihyo’ll be furious when she finds out!”

“What else was I supposed to do, Jihoon?” Seungcheol watches Jihoon begin pacing. “I like this girl. Genuinely want to make this work. Even if I only get a few months with her, it’ll be worth it to me. And if I can show her that I genuinely want to be with her in the time before we’re revealed to be the biggest assholes of all time, then maybe I can keep my relationship.”

Jihoon shakes his head in disbelief. “You and Soonyoung put me up to this bet. I told you guys I wanted to back out months ago.”

Seungcheol remembers that day. He was so sure that he would never be one to settle. At least not for years to come. “You can still back out. We can just give up, tell the others that your game isn’t as good as we thought it was. And if we end the bet now while everyone can get away relatively scot free, maybe we should.”

Jihoon shrugs.

Seungcheol catches his friend’s eye. “And I’ve seen the look on your face, Lee Jihoon. You have real feelings you’re scared to admit to.”

He rolls his eyes. “Did it not occur to you that I have to pretend otherwise this won’t work?”

“Whether you’re pretending or not anymore, I don’t know. But what I feel for Jihyo is genuine.”

Hansol (14:21)

You still on campus?

Late lunch?

It’s October and the air is getting crisper. She steps out onto the green with a scarf wrapped around her neck. She finds Hansol at the campus coffee shop. There are two sandwiches on the table, one for each of them.

“Seungkwan?” She slides her bag onto the floor next to her.

“Yeah. It’s one of the reasons why I wanted to have lunch.” He grins up at her, all gums and bright eyes. “I can’t eat two sandwiches.”

“Why doesn’t it surprise me that Seungkwan gets upset when you don’t finish all your food?” She starts to eat and nods in his direction. “Was there something you wanted to talk about?”

“Hmm?” There’s a ball of food in his mouth and his questioning eyes make him look adorable.

Chuckling, she says, “Well, we’ve rarely eaten out without you asking me something.” She juts her chin in his direction. “What’s up?”

“I, uh…” His cheeks start to redden. “Have a question about a girl.”

Her brow furrows slightly. “That’s new. You’re usually pretty confident about that.” She chews a bit. “Shoot.”

“What made you decide Jihoon hyung was a good idea?”

She tilts her head.

“I have a reputation like hyung’s, but mine’s not real.” He studies the contents of the sandwich. “And I just… I don’t know how to convince her.”

“Ah.” After spending the last four months with the boys, she knows whose reputations are real and whose have been garnered by association. Hansol is the latter, not really dating all that much. The girls he pursues are particular, which must mean this girl he’s interested in is amazing.

“You could just tell her the truth.”

“Do you believe everything hyung says?”

She takes a bite, allowing herself some time to think through her answer. She decides that Hansol deserves her honesty. “Not at the beginning, no.” She lowers her sandwich and holds his gaze. “But a relationship doesn’t work unless you trust that the other person’s being honest. And it gets really tiring to second guess everything your partner’s saying.”

Hansol’s cheeks redden even more this time, the blush creeping up to his ears and down his neck.

“Have you lied to her already?”

Hansol’s eyes widen. His voice is tight, practically squeaking out, “What? No.”

She makes a face. “You’re blushing.”

“Oh.” Hansol’s brain scrambles. “I just… uh…” How does he avoid telling her that her relationship is a bet? “Talking about her makes me nervous.”

She lifts an eyebrow, impressed. It’s rare to see Hansol nervous or outside his comfort zone. “You must really like her.”

“Uhm… yes,” he fills his mouth with sandwich, “I do.”

“Then… just be honest. You’re not your reputation.”

Lettuce gets caught in his throat. “And she’ll just… buy that?” He coughs.

“If she’s smart? No. She won’t. But actions help. Prove to her you’re not your reputation. You’re a good guy, Hansol.”

Hansol stares at this woman who he has grown to like. Her company is great, she’s awesome at games, and her humour matches the group’s well. As conversation veers towards classes and research, Hansol can’t help but think about how the bet will end and how hurt she’s going to be. Four times over the next hour, his tongue almost slips. Almost letting out a secret that will definitely end her relationship. Not just with Jihoon but with every one of them.

She checks her watch. “I gotta get back to the lab. The NMR should be done now.” She slips out of her seat and pats his shoulder. “I’ll see you later.”

“Are you coming for dinner tonight?”

She bends down to pick up her backpack, slinging it back over her shoulder. “It’s at yours, isn’t it?”

Hansol nods.

“Yeah, I’ll be there.”

As soon as Hansol walks into his apartment, he says to Seungkwan, “We need to call off the bet right now.”

Seungkwan has his pink apron on that the boys got him as a joke. “I’ve been saying that for about four months now.”

“Well, we really need to call it off.”

Seungkwan waves his spatula at Hansol, but his eyes fall to the iced Americano in his roommate’s hand and he calms down. “We both know that the guys aren’t just going to do that. Not when they know Jihoon’s this close to winning.”

“What?”

“Do you just ignore all of noona’s feelings? The look on her face when she looks at Jihoon hyung? She’s fallen for him already.” Seungkwan huffs and then takes a long sip from his drink. “It’s just a waiting game now.”

Hansol shakes his head as he heads to his room to drop off his things. “Tell everyone to come early. We need to talk about this bet right now.”

Hansol rarely asks for anything from the others, so when they receive his text, they’re there in thirty minutes.

“What’s wrong?” Jeonghan asks upon arrival. He slips out of his shoes, his eyes not leaving Hansol’s face. “Who’s dying?”

“We’re assholes and we need to call off the bet now.” Hansol grabs his hand to help him over the one step into the house. “If you guys want the money, I’ll give you the money. But I don’t want to see noona get hurt.”

Seungkwan counts heads. “Where’s Jihoon hyung?”

Joshua has his phone out. “He got stuck in the studio.”

Hansol immediately calls Jihoon. When Jihoon answers, he puts the phone on speaker and sets it in the middle of the small dining table.

“What’s going on, Hansol-ah?” They can hear a mouse clicking on the other end. “Dinner’s not for another hour. I can’t make it right now.”

“I want to talk about the bet and you need to be here.” Hansol leans closer to the phone. “Can we just call it off? Hyung, you already know that she likes you. And if she,” he glances at Seungkwan, “if she hasn’t fallen for you already, she’s falling now. So, can we just end this before anyone gets hurt?” Hansol tips his head both ways. “Or more hurt.”

“Yes!” Seungcheol pushes through to the front so Jihoon can definitely hear him. “Let’s call it off.”

The ripple of agreement through the group is comforting to Hansol, but everyone listens when Jihoon’s voice comes through again.

“You guys thought I was still faking it?” His voice is soft, vulnerable. He’s even stopped clicking around on the computer. “Guys, I,” he pauses, trying to bring himself to admit it, “I stopped faking months ago.”

Seungcheol slams his hands down on the table. “We got in a fight last month about this. What the hell are you saying?”

“You told Jihyo without consulting me first. I wasn’t going to tell you that you were right.”

Now, Jeonghan slams his hands onto the table. This second smack causes Jihoon to swear. “So, this is real? Lee Jihoon has a girlfriend?”

“Hanging up now.” They can hear the smile in his voice. “See you guys later.”

[of-tatooine]

for the record. | chapter 2 - bravo

it was time you tied the name to the person behind it.

[Day 0, 2011 - 06:50:12, Credenhill, UK]

Modern warfare was a man’s world.

Everyone knew it, everyone acknowledged it. It was as if there was this unvisible barrier surrounding certain aspects of the life, unwritten rules memorized by many soldiers.

No one would speak about it, nor would anyone bother to, but everytime the guns were locked and loaded, fuels of engines were replenished and explosives were strapped - it was one of the many things running rampant in your mind.

Though you had been young compared to the others, having some considerable amount of years of service under your belt had shown you that some truths were indeed hard to swallow. Yet they had to be accepted nonetheless - it was just the way things worked in your line of duty. After all, it had been just one of the many facts of the matter that you were forced to suppres deep down into your subconscious, along with many emotions associated with them.

They taught you how to suck in your much-preserved pride as you crawled in deep gravel and dirt, your skin a mess made out of mud. As you collapsed out of dehydration during the trek in the jungles, only to be pulled back to your feet to face yet another barked order. As you roared in pain when a bullet lodged itself into your flesh, twice as loud as it was pulled out.

They never taught you how not to miss the fallen, the friend and the comrade, or how to forget about those nightmares creeping into your being at night.

It had taken a lot of pondering and controlling your mental before stepping onto that plane and getting flown out to Credenhill. Being placed on the reserve regiment for some time had gotten to you - it felt like an eternity since you had been out in the field, deployed on an assignment. Weeks that had been filled with gathering intelligence and running strategy behind operations would slowly transform themselves into lots of pushups and reloading, that you had absolutely no doubt about.

However, spoken in the silent mumble of your lips, you prayed your body did not betray you - operating behind screens and files was lightwork compared to the drills that you suspected Captain Price would put you through. At some point the muscle memory would kick in, that was for sure, yet what concerned you was how long it would take till that eventually came true.

One step at a time, Sergeant.

It indeed was a beautiful day out. The rays of sunshine out in the vast concrete of the base courtyard emanated within the short sleeves, providing some much-needed warmth and comfort. Not much time had been given as you arrived on base - “get yourself to the range right away, soldier,” were the instructions that had followed the moment your feet touched the earth in the forsaken hours of the early morning.

Task Force 141. Now, that was a nice mouthful for classic selection training, considering the fact that you had been shipped out to the common 22nd Regiment training compound, the choice baffling you. Operating behind enemy lines within a covert squad certainly could not work when you were right where the enemy expected you to be - one of the main training bases of the entire Special Air Service. He must have been planning something substantial yet hidden behind plain sight - it had been impossible to get a word out of the renown Captain ever since he had approached you in London - in broad daylight, much to your added surprise in hindsight.

That meant you would just have to wait and see.

As your light steps took you towards the armory, clad in your gear of tactical shirt and pants with all the holsters strapped in place, there was a certain mix of emotions harbored in your heart and resonated within your being. Some confusion due to the lack of direction in your assignment.

And then, even though faint, came in a deeply-lodged sense of peace. How everything seemed to fit just a bit tighter, a little bit better - the perfect little adjustment to the crooked painting on the wall. The atmosphere of the green hangars and tents, the smell of tank engine fuel with the sound of shell casings dropping, one after the other, in soft clinks. The constant rush and the ever-lasting adrenaline.

There was a certain habituality to it, an accustomed year’s ease and some beauty in the routine of it all - and your soul had apparently longed for it for too long.

Welcome to your new home.

“Glad you made it, Sergeant,” a familiar face would greet you as bright lights hit you upon entering the hangar, his hand gesturing towards the guns laid out on the table. Nodding your head with a small smile, you would oblige.

“I trust you know the drill. Report back to me after you��re comfortable with the rifle - Captain Price wants to see you.”

That made your jaw clench in anticipation, or was it more of a bottled worry? Whatever it had been, it certainly did help as your bullets rained down on target after target, getting used to the weight of the rifle within your hands - while some shots had been a bit lacking, it did not take too many attempts for you to get back into the groove. The metallic sounds of fake targets lowering and the explosions helping you remember.

Footsteps behind you as yet another target went down in a screeching rusty sound. It seemed like he had chosen to watch, after all. “Not bad. Might even be a bit better than the FNG,” Gaz would comment on your shooting - which you believed was his attempt at being as nice as possible - as you turned your body to face him, your grip on the weapon in front of you relaxed. That earned him a little cocking of your eyebrow, tilting your head in a newfound curiosity.

“FNG?”

And there came the words, along with a nod.

“Fresh out of Selection. His name is Soap.”

There it was again. That name. Now, you had heard your fair share of silly little nicknames thrown around to soldiers - the kinds that stuck with them forever. This had to make the list of the best you had heard.

What the hell kind of a name is Soap, anyway?

It was like he read your mind, noticing that silent pause coupled with the upwards curl in your lips - returning the smile lightheartedly as he gestured you to follow him outside. “Weird name, eh? Captain was not willing to take it easy on him,” he commented as he walked alongside you to the far hangar, the fresh air hitting you along with the grumbles and low roars of the armor passing by.

“I bet,” you returned, a slight chuckle on your lips. Your tone growing just a tad bit lower, softer and meaningful just before the comfortable silence of your walk was cut off at the entrance of your destination.

“It’s good to see you, Kyle.”

“Likewise,” he acknowledged, giving you the type of understanding nod shared between old comrades alike - gesturing you to enter through the vast metal doors as you took a deep breath in your slightly nervous state due to the unknowns behind that hangar wall.

Orders were barked, audible even right from the entrance as you heard commotion. A replica of an obstacle course was occupying most of the space, the Union Jack and the SAS emblem proudly hanging next to each other on the far end. Shots were being fired, and you could hear the heavy footsteps sprint down the wooden flooring.

On the left side, which quickly became your next focal point, stood your new team - a few soldiers huddled up and clad in blackout tactical gear, watching the monitors to perhaps gauge how well the soldier running the course was doing. And of course there he was - the signature beard was recognizable from miles away as he leaned into the microphone installed, practically yelling to the intercom even though the poor soldier was most likely double-hearing him with the echoes of his tone.

His voice followed after a couple more final gunshots dropped in the distance - "Sprint to the finish!"

As you advanced towards observation with Gaz announcing your presence, you could not help but note the uniforms. Completely blacked out gear, light waxed material. Fit for a night time operation - in and out, close quarter combat. Relatively not too heavy material that would last in water and land. It made you wonder what your next mission would look like already.

“Welcome back into the fight, Sergeant,” the familiar commanding voice spoke, the blue eyes softening ever so slightly upon the sight of you yet never losing professionalism.

“It’s good to be back, Sir,” came your response, standing still and awaiting orders as you took a look around your surroundings once more - the static of the screens helping just a tad to numb your mind as you felt all pairs of eyes in that room were focused in on you.

Nothing you had not handled before, so you stood up even straighter - and put a brave face, jaw clenched.

“We’ll debrief for the mission ahead once the FNG carries himself over,” he instructed all the others, his tone sounding almost tired of dealing with the new guy, as the other soldiers that you could not really recognize behind the dark fabric chuckled. With the grip on your weapon relaxed, you continued to hold it against your chest like you were trained to do, losing yourself in the gentle upheaval of the base behind you. The smell of cordite coming in closer, it was followed by residual panting and boots against concrete.

“Pretty good, Soap. But I’ve seen better.”

As you searched for the body to finally associate the name to, it did not take long for you to spot yet another pair of blues, these ones a bit stormy and icy in the little specks - piercing nonetheless. Tall, you would note, as his built legs took him towards the monitors you stood near. His chest heaved in a mild rhythm, the weapon clad iron tight in his gloved hands - in the split second that you had gazed at him, you would also spot his mohawk, which he surprisingly sported well.

Oh.

What intrigued your curiosity more was that he was staring right at you too - the clenching of his jaw indicated that he was trying not to, for too long. In an attempt to break the uncomfortable nature of the interaction, he would nod in an almost respectful way, though there had been some sort of light reflecting in his irises.

It was Captain Price’s authoritative voice and the clearing of his throat that brought you back to reality, from that interlude which felt like it lasted almost forever. After a soft nod of acknowledgement thrown at the man, your focus was again redirected back to your officer in command, awaiting your next assignment.

“Listen up - the cargo ship mission is a go. Get yourselves sorted out. Wheels up at 0200. Dismissed.”

A plethora of strong echoes of yes, sir rang throughout the space, the tone intensified at the hinted urgency of the mission. Perhaps you should not have been so surprised when Captain Price called out your name, beckoning you to come hither.

“Sergeant, it’s your turn to run the CQB test. See if you can get the squadron record broken, eh?”

Maybe it was your eyes lying to you in the early hours of the morning but you could have sworn you saw Gaz’s smile from the edge of your vision as he headed out from the hangar, with the FNG trailing right beside him, sunlight seeking to outline his broad back to you, adorned by the weapon strapped down. With no other evident choice presented to you other than following orders, you did so - this time, with much more purpose.

Was it the fact that you trusted Price with your life? Or was it how you fought side by side in the trenches with Gaz, as dirt and bullets rained down over you both? Was it the way the squadron welcomed you in without question nor judgement, without having their eyes trail down all over you laced in other intentions?

Was it the brief eye contact you had with yet another new soldier into the squadron that told you, somewhere deep within your subconscious, that everything would be just fine?

This de novo sense of excitement and vigor within you, originating from an unknown source led you towards the ladder with considerable ease - you would not notice the way Soap’s eyes lingered on you just for the briefest of moments, turning back before stepping out of the sliding doors - before Gaz eventually and practically dragged him out by his arm.

And that night, during the only time he got to write in his journal before the looming mission, Sergeant MacTavish would start, while his memory was still fresh, the hard lines and edges of the very, very rough sketch which would end up as his most prized artwork - a drawing of you.

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[anothertimdrakestan]

Damijon Christmas Present!

FOR THE DAMIJON SECRET SANTA I HAD... @nymph-patt

dear nymph:

hi love! i haven’t written in a fat minute and i’m a little rusty so bear with me hehehe. i hope you have a wonderful holiday season! all my love -elle!

I’ve got a fluff christmas fic and a lil headcanon for ya! 

Merry Stress-mas

“You can’t plan Christmas like a battle strategy Dami,” Jon groaned as Damian wheeled a whiteboard into their living room. “Actually, I’ve found it to be quite similar. Pay attention Kent, I know sticking to the plan has never been your strong suit.” Damian’s foot was tapping like crazy, Jon noted his clear anxiousness- needless to say Damian wasn’t the holiday type. Makes it a million times harder when it’s your first Christmas together as a couple. 

*super-couple. 

Jon gasped as Damian flipped the whiteboard like a school teacher, revealing meticulously drawn out plans mapped in expo-marker. “We start with my family, we stay until Jason is ten shots in, after that Christmas always becomes a nightmare so we head out. With your super speed it’ll be only an 14 minutes 37 second trip to your family where we stay for the majority of the night. At the end you rush us back to Gotham to console Dick after Bat-Christmas fails as always. Our emergency word is tyrannosaurus should anything go wrong at the drop we flee. Any questions?” Damian was flying through the plans, pointing at bulleted lists and analyzing possible flaws. 

Jon took a deep breath, a smile creeping over his face. “I didn’t think you’d care so much about our first Christmas together with our families, it’s kind of sweet.” Lazily he reached for Damian, clinging to his back while Dami shook his head, mumbling as he edited the board. “Not really our first Christmas Kent and I definitely do not care about family tt,” Jon didn’t reply, he just smiled into the crook of Damian’s neck.

“Our suits bring down our aerodynamic potential so I’ve taken the liberty of adjusting our arrival time to 15 minutes 43 seconds. Does that sound accurate?” Jon hummed in response as he straightened Damian’s tie, it was already perfect but he’d take any excuse to get closer to Dami. “Ready my love?” Jon glanced at Damian who was checking his watch. “Yes.” Damian responded, absent mindedly clasping Jon’s hand as they made their way to the mansion. 

“DAMI’S HERE!” Steph’s screech announced. She was hanging off the banister as she stole popcorn pieces from the massive tree. “Wonderful- Miss Brown I must ask you don’t eat the decorations tonight, have some festivity,” Alfred shook his head as he made his way to Jon. “Magnificent of you to join us Master Kent, I assume you will also be heading to your family’s festivities as well?” Jon opened his mouth but Damian answered first. “Yes Pennyworth, we plan on just saying for hors devours,” his curt reply brought a knowing smile to Alfred’s lips. “Always planned with you Master Damian,” his accent was playful making Jon chuckle. 

Dick descended the stairs, Damian groaned at his bright green and red striped suit, Jon couldn’t help but laugh either. “Hellllooo super boyfriends! Are-You-Readyyyy-For-Tonight!” Dick practically skipped towards the two, pulling them into a tight hug before Damian could slip away. “We won’t be long Grayson we must attend the Kent family Christmas too,” Damian nodded curtly, shifting closer to Jon who got the message and moved forward into the living room. 

“Actually, where are all the bat-siblings? And where did Steph run off to?” Jon noticed no one was around but Alfred who was preparing something delicious in the kitchen. Dick began chuckling, a devilish smile spreading across his face. “Oh, everyone is down in the batcave. C’mon.” Damian looked taken-aback but Jon was never to shocked by batfamily-antics. 

The two followed Dick to the secret door. “Now, we heard from a little super birdy [Dick winked at Jon who was now openly grinning] that you were a little nervous about having to deal with two Christmas’ this year, so we felt it’d be easier for everyone if we just-” Dick popped open the door to a winter wonderland of a batcave. A large table was put out, filled with their family members. “Merry Christmas!” A chorus of laughter broke out as Damian’s jaw dropped. 

At the table were the batfam, Kents, and even a couple speedsters littered around. All were laughing and smiling at one another. It was the biggest family gathering Jon has seen ever. “No need for crazy plans my love, just enjoy tonight with everyone,” Jon whispered to Damian as he scanned the room. “I- How did you- Thank you,” Damian settled on the last words of praise for the wonderful man who made every single day better. “No need for thanks, I’d get you the world if you wanted it, but for now let’s have a very Merry Christmas!” Jon took off towards his family and Damian would help but feel the corners of his lips betray him with a smile. Heart full he made his way down to his family.

“JASON DO NOT FLIRT WITH KARA SHE’S OFF LIMITS!”

“WALLY DID YOU EAT ALL THE COOKIES ALREADY?”

“BRUCE, CLARK, STOP FIGHTING OVER WHO GOT THE OTHER THE BETTER GIFT. YOU’RE BOTH RICH!”

very merry indeed. 

~

Okay so I haven’t absorbed much batfam content at all for weeks so hopefully my spin on the HC is still cute : )

I don’t think Jon gets enough credit for how observant he is. 

Too often Jon is forgotten, the second super boy, the sidekick, the boyfriend, the man who left everyone for space. 

It’s true, technically. But Jon is so keen at reading those around him, especially the un-readable Damian Wayne that I would argue it’s a super skill in of itself.

He gets it from his mother you know, Superman was always a little dense, but, though no one believes it, he always had Lois to help him out. Too often the quieter, smarter, more analytical side gets forgotten and that’s no different with Jon. His friends don’t see the way he checks up on them, taking in their facial expressions and reading them to know the right thing to say at the right time to help them out. They don’t realize he spent whole days memorizing their heart beats and their breaths to know if they’re ever in peril. And they don’t see the way he looks at them so fondly, beyond grateful they’re in his life.

Lois sees it.

She saw it when Jon met Damian. 

A young boy mesmerized by the wittiness and strength in the human boy. The greatest irony, the Superboy more human than the murder weapon now called “Robin”. But the two hit it off almost instantly- though Damian may not agree to that last bit. 

Lois knew Jon adored Damian, every deep red was “Robin Red” every Wayne Ent. building they walked past brought up stories of his adventures with the youngest Wayne, every Justice League trip meant begging for his dad to send him to Gotham for the weekend while he was out. He was young, but Lois knew a pair of soulmates when she saw them. 

There were these nights when they were teens. Jon would burst out of bed and rush to his mother. He never needed to say anything. There was this look in his eyes, Damian needs me. “Go” she’d always whisper, pressing a quick kiss to his forehead thinking back to when Clark would do the same for her. 

She remembers the frantic December weeks Jon spent toiling on Damian’s Christmas gift. “What do I give a trillionaire who has the world?” Jon would whine and mope around the house for any semblance of inspiration. 

Your heart Jon, all he wants is your love. Lois always thought to herself, she was quite aware of the two boy’s growing infatuation with each other, her husband was always slower in the “feelings” department and if he was slow she imagined Bruce was a damn sloth. So, she let the boys feel safe in her presence. Damian slowly spent more time at her home when Clark was out, she grew to have a sort of friendship with Damian. He’d comment on whatever news article she recently wrote, endure a three second reply and be on his way. She was always astounded at how up to date he was on all her pieces. 

Lois was always proud of the love Jon showed Damian. She’d be the first to tell Bruce he needed to hug his damn kids, but there was a special kind of caring Jon held only for Damian. A love woven only for the two of them. Like an invisible string linking them no matter where in the universe the other was at, there was a friendship, a kindness, a passion, a love.

Overtime, Jon’s analysis of Damian led him to his own feelings. And over an even longer period of time Damian discovered his own. Jon never stopped caring, he never stopped worrying, and he never stopped loving. 

Those, are the parts of Superman that Damian, and the world, need most. 

~

Merry Christmas! <3

[harrowharkboygf]

Game Night

a short post-season 5 oneshot. read on ao3

——

Catra liked to think of herself as a dedicated person. There were a lot of things she still hated about herself—the therapist Perfuma had recommended to her had said during their first session that it would take time to fully forgive herself, to get out of the “self-destructive mindset” she had spent so long embracing. But she at least prided herself on her resolve, her resilience, her determination.

However, it turned out that in terms of determination, she was nothing compared to the princesses’ crazed desire to hold as many social events as physically possible.

At first, during the initial celebration at Brightmoon and the stream of Thank You For Saving The World, Princesses! parties that were thrown in their honor as they traveled across Etheria to help with rebuilding efforts, Catra thought that this was just because of the circumstances. Everyone was clearly thrilled to be alive and happy that the princesses were back to being heroes, and they wanted to commemorate the occasion with festivities.

(It was still weird to think of herself like that. As a member of the Princess Alliance. Would it ever get less strange?)

But then Catra learned that the princesses were just like that. There were endless game nights and iceball tournaments and flower crown-making circles and picnics and trips around Etheria just for the purpose of seeing the sights. Late night planning meetings that turned into sleepovers, and visits to their allies under the guise of “checking in” that held no tactical purpose in the end.

This was so foreign, so beyond her reality; she had grown up in the Horde, where her idea of free time was just more training. Her only celebrations came in the form of stolen moments with Adora and extra ration bars, which she hoarded like it was water in the Crimson Wastes.

But despite how skeptical she acted, deep down Catra loved it, even the flower crowns. She discovered that she was very good at iceball—so good that she and Adora were banned from playing against each other on the grounds of being too competitive. (Thankfully, Glimmer and Frosta were equally worthy opponents.) Spinnerella and Netossa were more than happy to teach her all their tricks; Catra found the couple oddly comforting, a nice, stable, older presence that she’d never had before.

But above all, Catra loved the quiet moments the most. Late sleepovers with the Best Friend Squad (her attempts to change the name to something more badass, like the Kickass Comrades, had been shot down) had, much to her surprise, become one of her favorite things. The old Catra would have scoffed seeing her now, eating sweets and giggling late into the night, but she didn’t care. Arrow Boy and Sparkles had actually become her friends, dignity be damned.

And of course, there was Adora. Beautiful, amazing, wonderful Adora, with her sparkling blue eyes and soft lips and strong arms that always ended up wrapped around Catra. She could hardly believe it was real, that Adora loved her. She wondered if she would ever be able to wake up and not stare in disbelief at the sight of Adora lying next to her, staring at her with soft, loving eyes. If one day she would stop fearing that all of it was a dream.

“Hey, lovebirds!” Glimmer shouted. “Quit being gross and get over here so you can finish helping us!”

They had spent the last two weeks in what had formerly been known as the Fright Zone, and what was soon to become Scorpia’s kingdom. The still-newly-minted princess had decided to use it as a refuge for former Horde soldiers who were looking to turn over a new leaf. “After all,” Scorpia had said, “if Catra and Adora and I all changed, everyone else can, too.”

But unsurprisingly, the place was still, as Catra put it, full of shit. So the Princess Alliance decided to clean it up and redecorate.

“You said we could take a water break!” protested Adora.

“Yeah,” said Catra, smirking. “We’re so thirsty.” She blinked innocently up at Glimmer from her perch on Adora’s lap, one arm slung around her shoulders and the other hand playing with her blonde hair.

Mermista, who was carrying a stack of boxes nearby, rolled her eyes. “Yeah you are,” she muttered. Behind her, Sea Hawk gave them a thumbs up.

Glimmer put her hands on her hips, shaking her head. “I said you could take a water break when Adora tried to lift a literal tank without shifting into She-Ra. But that was twenty minutes ago! Let’s go, you two. Chop chop.”

Adora’s gaze was fixed on Catra, a soft smile sliding across her lips. “Just a minute,” she told Glimmer, not breaking eye contact with Catra. Gently, she tipped her head upwards and kissed her. Catra let herself dissolve into the kiss, closing her eyes and exhaling.

They pulled apart only to press their foreheads together. “I think we’re annoying,” Adora stage-whispered.

Catra barely kept herself from giggling. (Giggling. What the fuck, honestly.) “You think?” she asked.

She heard Glimmer say, “Bow! Come help me!” Then she felt hands wrap around her as Bow and Glimmer bodily lifted her up off of Adora’s lap. She hissed in fake-annoyance, squirming in their grip.

“Don’t pretend you two are much better!” she shrieked as they deposited her onto a pile of stacked bedrolls. “I saw you feeding Sparkles at breakfast!”

Frosta scoffed as she used her ice powers to hang a lantern. “I get it, you’re all gross! When can we be done? I’m bored!”

Scorpia delicately set a plant down on a nearby windowsill, mindful of her claws. “Soon! Thank you so much for your help, guys. The place looks great.” Everyone beamed, pausing to look around and admire their handiwork.

It did look great. The walls had been painted a lighter color, and the hallways were now well-lit, filled with softer, more pleasant decor. The clanging of machinery still echoed, but gone was the smoke and pollution; Entrapta had spent a long time working on a more clean form of energy, one that was better for magic and the planet and whatever.

Speaking of the pig-tailed princess—“Where’s Entrapta?” asked Catra. “She didn’t want to come and invent some bot to help us?”

Perfuma adjusted her girlfriend’s placement of the potted plant, trying to give it as much sunlight as possible. “She’s very busy with all her new ethical science projects now—”

“Semi-ethical,” corrected Bow, rubbing the back of his neck.

“—But she was invited to our celebration tomorrow night! Hopefully we will see her then.”

“Another party? It never ends, does it?” Catra said to Adora, who had come back to stand at her side.

Perfuma clasped her hands together. “Oh, this one will just be a small get-together. We’ll throw a big party once all of Scorpia’s citizens move in, but this is just for us princesses!”

“And Bow and Catra and Sea Hawk,” Mermista reminded her.

Perfuma shrugged. “Honorary princesses!”

Adora cleared her throat. “Alright, team, let’s get these last few things in place. We can pick up the little bit that’s left tomorrow morning. I think it’s bedtime.”

——

“And then I said, “Uh, your ship’s on fire!’”

The room burst in laughter. Catra wiped a tear from her eye as she cackled—there was something about Mermista’s deadpan delivery that made all her stories way funnier than anyone else’s. “And did you ever run into that pirate again?” she asked.

Sea Hawk spread his arms grandly. “Why, of course! He approached us a short time later to tell us how our genius and fighting prowess inspired him, and how he had decided to become an artist and build statues in our honor. To this day, his children sing our praises around campfires.”

At the same time, Mermista shook her head and said, “Nope. Never saw him again.”

This unleashed another wave of giggles. Still snickering, Catra leaned forward in her seat and took a cookie off the plate on the table in front of her. As she did so, Frosta opened her mouth wide and pointed wordlessly at it. Catra rolled her eyes and tossed a cookie at her. She caught it in her mouth and gave a muffled cheer as she chewed.

Bow rubbed his hands together. “Okay, guys, let’s get started.” He gestured at the table in front of them, which would soon be the center of Scorpia’s strategy room. Tonight, however, it was covered with a big game board and several playing pieces, dice, and stacks of cards. “Here’s how we play—”

“We’re here!”

Entrapta practically bounced into the room, Emily close at her side, beeping cheerfully. Wrong Hordak followed close behind them, smiling his typical sheepish smile and holding a tray crammed with an almost-impossible amount of tiny pink cupcakes.

Adora stood up to greet them. “Hey, guys! Welcome to…”

Her voice trailed off abruptly as the last guest entered. Catra felt her heart begin to pound; she stood up too, curling her claws into fists. Melog, who had been sleeping next to the sofa the Best Friend Squad was sharing, sprang to its feet, hissing. The rest of the group froze, exchanging shocked glances.

Hordak (the real one) stood in the doorway, somehow managing to look both awkward and stern. “Hello,” he said shortly, his deep voice echoing slightly.

When no one answered for a long, tension-filled minute, Entrapta looked rapidly between the group and Hordak, her eyes wide with confusion. “Sorry we’re late,” she said tentatively. “Did I…did I bring too many people?”

Mermista buried her head in her hands and let out a muffled scream. Sea Hawk patted her arm sympathetically.

Catra struggled to choose between saying What is he doing here and Absolutely fucking not and just straight-up attacking him. Judging by her facial expression, across the table Frosta was thinking along the same lines.

Entrapta twirled one of her ponytails around her nervously, her smile slowing sliding off her face the longer the silence dragged on. Next to her, Wrong Hordak shifted from foot to foot. “Uh…”

Perfuma hastily jumped up, a fake smile plastered on her face. “We’re so glad you could come!” she chirped, flinging her arms around her.

Wrong Hordak joined the hug. “I have missed you, brothers!” he told them tearfully.

At Perfuma’s pointed look, Scorpia and Frosta made space for the newcomers, bringing over more chairs.

“Will you be joining us, Hordak?” Catra asked icily, sneering at him.

“Be nice,” Bow whispered to her.

“She has a point,” Glimmer whispered back.

Hordak glared right back at her. “Entrapta invited me. Am I not welcome here?”

Adora managed to pick her jaw up off the floor. “Uhhh…no, um, take a seat. Bow was just about to tell us how this game works.” She sat down, pulling Catra down with her.

Bow started to explain, occasionally being interrupted by Frosta, Perfuma, and Sea Hawk, who all had their own opinions on how the rules should be interpreted. Meanwhile, Catra hissed quietly, “Are we seriously just going to play a board game with Hordak of all people?”

“He’s changed, I guess,” Adora murmured back.

On her other side, Glimmer rolled her eyes. “Allegedly.”

After the war had ended, the Rebellion didn’t really know what to do with Hordak. Sure, he had saved Entrapta and turned against Horde Prime, but they weren’t just going to let him sit back on his throne. Originally Catra had been in favor of dumping his ass in the Crimson Wastes, but Huntara was having none of it.

So eventually the princesses settled on letting him live in Dryl with Entrapta, as long as he swore never to hold any political power or territory for the rest of his life. An oath they would make sure he held, with magic to ensure it, if necessary.

“I don’t trust him,” Catra murmured.

Adora placed a comforting hand on her thigh. “Me neither, but Entrapta trusts him. And whatever makes her happy, we’ll support.”

They watched Hordak sneer as Perfuma tried to offer him some fruit juice. She frowned back at his rude behavior, huffing in that trying-to-be-dignified-yet-offended way of hers. Frosta looked like she wanted to stick his head in an ice block. Meanwhile, Entrapta was in full science mode, spilling out a detailed lecture about dice and probability.

“Even if the thing that makes her happy is Hordak?” grimaced Glimmer.

Adora sighed, rubbed her forehead. “Even so,” she said glumly.

Bow clapped his hands, signaling the end of his rules explanation. “Okay, does everyone get it?”

“Yes,” said Catra.

“Totally,” said Glimmer.

“Yeah…” said Adora.

Bow gave them a look that suggested he knew they hadn’t been listening at all. “Okay, let’s get started!”

Thankfully, Catra was able to figure it out as she went. The game was fairly simple: the players had to try to be the first one to make it around a map of Etheria, while fighting mythical monsters and challenges along the way. She leaned forward, smirking, her competitive nature taking over. “You’re all going down,” she said, making a show of cracking her knuckles.

Glimmer scooped up the dice and began to shake them. “As if!”

Scorpia laughed and shook her head. “No, guys, Perfuma is the champion at this game. She’s beaten me every time, she’s that amazing.”

The flower princess blushed a deep crimson. “Oh, Scorpia!” she trilled. “You are amazing too!”

Catra watched this play out fondly. Despite her and Scorpia’s…rocky history, she was genuinely sorry for all the pain she’d caused her. Although Scorpia had said she forgave her, there was a while after the war where things had been awkward, uncomfortable. She was happy to see that the former Force Captain had found someone who could make her happier than Catra ever could.

Hordak made a strangled noise in the back of his throat. It took her a minute to realize that he was laughing. “This is a childish competition,” he announced, sounding annoyed.

Mermista rested her chin on her palm. “You’re just mad that you couldn’t conquer Etheria and now you can’t win this board game.”

Hordak stiffened. “How dare—”

“Okay!” Bow interceded, his voice hinging on hysteria. “Glimmer will start!”

They went around in a circle, their game pieces slowly advancing with each roll of the dice. Catra was not thrilled when Glimmer rolled four tens in a row and she kept only rolling ones and twos. Thankfully, she was able to get Sparkles back when she pulled a Brightmoon-themed card and “teleported” her to the little red and yellow spot on the board that was supposed to represent the Crimson Wastes.

Scorpia was, unsurprisingly, the best sport about this. While everyone else soon succumbed to playfully cursing each other out as they scrambled to keep their game piece ahead of the group, Scorpia was the one congratulating everyone even when they fucked her over.

Even Perfuma huffed when Frosta got her stuck in the “Northern Reach”. “This is a betrayal,” she sniffed dramatically, crossing her arms. “I will never, ever forgive you.” A moment later, she cracked a smile and winked at the younger girl to let her know she was joking.

Wrong Hordak landed on a “Magic Zone” square and whipped out a card. “Do not worry, sister! This piece of paper says the Sorcerers’ Guild has granted me the power of…time travel! I will reverse your plight!” he declared. He reached down and daintily picked up Perfuma’s piece so he could place it back on the path.

Perfuma giggled. “My hero!”

“That was supposed to be used for your piece,” Entrapta pointed out, fidgeting with a small gear as she waited for her turn.

Adora shrugged. “Eh, let him do what he wants,” she said. She leaned back and not-so-casually draped her arm over Catra’s shoulders. She leaned into her girlfriend’s touch happily.

Entrapta pulled out the recorder she clearly kept with her at all times. “Observation number two hundred and fifty-three: when playing games, rules are to be broken at the player’s convenience.”

“Now you’ve got the spirit!” chuckled Sea Hawk, who was currently attempting to steal alien chips off of Mermista’s plate. Every time she caught him, he gave her the most lovestruck eyes he could pull off until she let her snag a chip.

Wrong Hordak handed the dice to Actual Hordak. “Your turn, brother!”

Hordak took the dice emotionlessly and rolled it. A five. He moved his game piece to the appropriate square.

“You landed on a runestone!” Perfuma cheered. “That means you get to move ahead five spaces!”

Hordak frowned down at the tiny drawing. “This pathetic image looks nothing like the real Black Garnet. It fails to capture the strength, the raw power that eminented from my runestone. How comical.”

“Your runestone?” Catra repeated, raising one eyebrow. “It’s not yours anymore, Hordak.”

He glowered at her. “In a better life, it was.”

Glimmer narrowed her eyes. “Are you saying that—”

Entrapta scooped up the dice. “My turn!” she chirped.

Adora hastily stood up, gripping both Glimmer and Catra’s arms tightly. “We are going to get more fruit juice!” she said. “Bow, will you come with us?”

His grin was particularly strained. “Of course!”

They both looked at Glimmer. “Fiiiine,” she sighed, before transporting the Best Friend Squad to the nearby kitchen.  

Once there, Adora immediately turned to Catra and Glimmer. Melog slunk in after them, not wanted to be separated from its owner.

“He’s a terrible person!” protested Catra, already knowing what she was going to say. “I want him out of here.”

“Everyone did terrible things while they were in the Horde,” Bow reminded her gently as he poured more fruit juice into cups. Including you was the unspoken meaning behind that sentence. She looked down at the ground.

“But,” Bow said, handing her a cup, “what matters is that they’ve changed.”

Glimmer took the juice pitcher out of his hands, kissing his cheek. “I agree with Catra,” she told him as she poured. “Hordak might have said he was sorry, but he doesn’t act like it.”

“ And ,” added Catra, emboldened by someone siding with her, “he’s just straight up gross. How someone could possibly find that greasy-haired stick-up-his-ass attractive is just absolutely beyond me—”

“I know! He’s all—” Glimmer deepened her voice, hunched her shoulders. “—‘Pathetic princesses! You know nothing of true power! I am Hordak, Prince of Evil! Mwahahaha!’”

Catra laughed so hard she choked, and almost fell over.

Even Bow, who was rooting through the cabinets looking for more napkins, chuckled. “That’s cute,” he told her.

She winked at him. “ I’m cute.”

“You are.” He pulled her into a hug from behind, pressing his lips to the side of her head.

Adora took Catra’s hand. “Just please try to refrain from killing him for tonight,” she asked. “Afterwards, you and Glimmer and Mermista can start an I Hate Hordak club if you want.”

Catra tugged playfully on her ponytail. “Don’t tempt me. I will run that club.”

Her girlfriend poked her cheek in return before helping Glimmer and Bow stack the cups of fruit juice onto a tray. Catra grabbed another bag of alien chips, just in case.

“Alright,” said Adora, carefully balancing the heavily-stacked tray and ignoring everyone else eying her worriedly. “Ready?”

Bow winced as the tray wobbled dangerously when she took a step. “Adora, do you need—”

“I got it!”

Glimmer shook her head. “Maybe we’d better walk back to the strategy room. I don’t know if those cups can survive a teleportation trip.”

“We’ll be fine!” Adora assured her, and then promptly tripped, sending the tray flying.

——

“I’m really proud of you,” Adora told her as they waved goodbye to the group. They all had to return to their own kingdoms; it still wasn’t stable to be gone for too long.

Catra looked up at her. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, you—” She was cut off by a yell of frustration coming from the direction of the skiff waiting to take their friends back to Dryl.

The two of them watched Wrong Hordak and Entrapta attempt to bodily lift Emily onto the skiff, which was hovering a few feet above the ground. The bot was nothing more than deadweight, beeping irritably.

“Her programming is due for an update soon,” Entrapta explained. “Sometimes she gets sulky like this.”

“She doesn’t wanna say goodbye to her friends,” Frosta said. She seemed particularly pouty herself. She had become particularly clingy after the war ended, and probably wasn’t happy about having to go back to her own kingdom alone after spending so much time with everyone.

Catra could relate.

“We’ll see everyone again soon,” Glimmer reminded her, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder. “We’re throwing a celebration once Perfuma and Scorpia get everyone settled here, remember?”

“Yeah,” said Frosta, sticking out her lip grumpily.

Wrong Hordak shrieked as one of Emily’s appendages kicked him in the face. He dropped her with a thud.

“Emily!” scolded Entrapta. “Not nice!” Scorpia and Perfuma moved to help them, which definitely made things more successful. Meanwhile, Hordak watched the whole scene unfold from inside the skiff, not bothering to offer his help.

“As I was saying,” Adora said, still chuckling, “I’m really proud of you, Catra. I—I know it can be hard to keep your anger in check when you’re dealing with…”

“With the former dictator of our childhood?” she finished. “I know.”

“You’ve come a long way.”

Catra laced their fingers together, leaned against her shoulder. “So have you.”

Mermista called Frosta over to their skiff, where Sea Hawk was helping her load up their bags. The game night victor gave Glimmer a hug, then Bow, Adora, and, to her surprise, Catra. “See you later, Horde Scum,” Frosta said, parroting her mentor.

Catra grinned back at her. “See you later, princess.”

From the skiff, Mermista tossed a wadded-up piece of paper to Catra. “I look forward to it!” she shouted as Sea Hawk helped Frosta into the skiff.

“Me too!” Catra shouted back.

Adora looked curiously at the paper ball. “What’s that?”

Catra handed it to her without saying a word, smirking. Adora unfolded it, revealing a flyer.

The I HATE HORDAK Club

Calling all Etherians!

Do YOU hate the former Horde Lord?

Do YOU fantasize about ruining his day?

If so, this is the place for you!!!

Meetings will be held at Brightmoon Castle. Any questions, please see Catra or Princess Mermista.

[itscalledreadingdarling]

You Weren’t Supposed To Get Hurt - Newt Imagine

Lines indicate time passes, enjoy :)

*Differs from both movies and books

~

Someone was bound to get hurt.

It was inevitable, really.

I just didn’t think it was going to be me.

I was untouchable, said the gladers. Throughout my 6 months I spent in the glade no one nor anything seemed to injure me.

When we escaped, people died. I was one of the lucky ones who made it out.

When we broke out into the scorch, I was never once bruised, scratched or otherwise.

When our position with the right arm was revealed and chaos broke out, I joined the fight, bullets flying left and right.

Still, nothing ever touched me.

Not when WCKD took loads of immunes, including Minho.

Not when we attempted to rescue him.

Not when the giant wall that separated WCKD and thousands of people started openly shooting.

Utterly untouchable.

It used to be a joke amongst the gladers.

There was no time for joking anymore.

Now, it became a gift. A strategy.

It would all come down to me.

In my hand was the one most important thing, a blue vial.

The serum.

The cure.

The only thing that determined whether Newt would live, or die.

I had to get it to him.

My lungs burned and my legs ached and still, I kept running.

I wasn’t used to it, running so much.

I was a cook in the glade, along with Frypan.

Now it seemed that I was running every day.

This time though, I didn’t think about it.

Instead, I thought about Newt.

The way he always managed to make me laugh, even in the times where laughing seemed unreachable.

The kindness behind every action, just wanting to keep his friends safe.

Always trying to make it to a place where we would be safe, fighting until there was no more fight.

Shit.

I couldn’t lose him.

I ran faster.

——

Newt was teetering on the edge of sanity when I finally reached where we agreed to meet up.

His humanity was almost gone.

The flare was him and he was the flare.

He was fighting Thomas .

There were only brief moments when he would realize what he was doing, and pause, begging for Thomas to kill him.

He wanted it to be over.

He didn’t want to become one of them.

A crank.

“Please Tommy, please. Please.”

I could feel tears spilling down my cheeks at the scene before me, but I didn’t let them deter me, still running, screaming at Thomas that I had it, I had the cure.

Thomas’s eyes flicked to me, unfortunately at the wrong time, as Newt took the chance to lunge at Thomas while he was momentarily distracted.

He was able to successfully pin him to the ground, Thomas stuck underneath him.

Newt had a knife, and was pressing it down towards Thomas’s chest, while Thomas was struggling to keep it from penetrating him.

I was quick, sliding to my knees, and pulling up Newt’s sleeve, which was proving to be difficult.

It took a few seconds, but I thankfully was able to get it up, a sick taste entering my mouth at the sight of the snaky black veins that crawled up Newt’s skin.

It was then that Newt noticed me.

I was surprised he hadn’t before, I wasn’t trying to be stealthy in any manor. I was prepared for a fight.

But I was so close, all I had to do was plunge the syringe into his arm, and all would be fixed.

It all happened so fast that I wasn’t aware of it.

I stuck the needle into his arm, and pushed down the top, the serum slowly draining from the tube and into Newts bloodstream.

I looked up, just in time to see the darkness fade from his eyes and a haunting look of horror flicker on his face before he slumped to the side, Thomas and I lunging to grab him before he slammed his head on the concrete floor.

Out of pure adrenaline, or perhaps hysteria, I laughed.

It hurt to laugh but I couldn’t stop.

There was to much adrenaline in my body that it felt unnatural.

I heard Thomas say my name, quietly. Scared.

I looked up at him with a bright smile. I expected him to look happy, we had just saved Newt.

But rather he looked at me, pain and fear freezing his features.

“What?” I chuckled.

He simply pointed to my stomach.

I looked down and like a button was pressed, my laughter cut off.

Blood.

Seeping.

Red.

To much of it.

I looked back up to Thomas, pain flooding in. It was strange, how the body worked. I hadn’t felt it until I was focused on it. Until the adrenaline shut off.

His eyes flickered to the knife that lay limply in Newts hand, blood coating the tip.

My blood.

I could see black spots in the corners of my eyes.

I was gonna pass out.

Shit.

“Don’t tell him.” I mumbled.

And then the world went black and the pain faded.

——

I opened my eyes to light.

Bright, blinding light.

A small groan left my lips as I slowly sat up.

What the hell?

I lifted up my shirt - different than the one I wore last time I was conscious - and my fingers hovered over the thick bandage wrapped around my abdomen.

There was a light red, excess blood seeping through the bandages, and there was a dull ache emitting from my stomach, but not as badly as I remembered.

I winced as I stood up from the bed, a sharp pain shooting through my body, and my hand immediately flew to my stomach, holding my arm around myself as if it would barricade the pain.

I could hear laughter outside of the hut, and I took a moment to take in the unfamiliar surroundings.

The air smelled salty, such a stark contrast from the glade, that smelled of dirt and earth.

I slowly walked out of the hut, trying not to aggravate my injury too much.

When my eyes adjusted to the outside light, I was able to take in everything around me - from the blue of the ocean, to the tan grains of the sand, the giant huts and billowing sheets of white that covered them, and the abundance of people milling about.

A small breath of laughter left me, we had done it. We actually did it. We were safe.

I scanned the crowd until I saw a familiar face.

“Minho!” I called out, and I could see him turn to me, before jogging over with a smile wide on his face.

I guessed that he was aware of my injury, as he hugged me gently from the side, rather that his usual tight squeeze.

“We thought you were dead shank, how you holdin up?” He gestured to my bandages, hidden by my shirt.

“I’m doing alright. Hurts a shucking ton though.”

He let out a small chuckle, and called out for Thomas and a couple other of the gladers, each greeting me like Minho did.

It seemed all of them knew about my injury, hugging me with care, some looking concerned.

“Hey, where’s Newt?” I questioned.

“Oh, he’s over by the crops, helping Vince or something like that.” Minho replied, pointing to a group of people further away from the groups of shelters.

“Thanks.” I said, making my way over to the gardens in the distance.

I really hoped the serum had worked. It sounded like it had.

If Minho wasn’t worried then Newt should be fine.

I spotted him quickly, his blonde hair glowing in the sunlight, and his skin perfectly free of any black veins.

“Newt!” I called out, waving my hand at him.

He immediately dropped whatever was in his hands, and jogged towards toward me.

Newt was quick to wrap me in an embrace, holding me tightly.

So Thomas did hear my request.

Don’t tell him.

Don’t tell Newt that I’m injured.

Don’t tell Newt that he was the one who injured me.

It seemed Thomas had understood what I was asking, and complied.

For that I was thankful.

The rule back in the glade was never to hurt another glader on purpose.

I don’t know what Newt would do if he found out he had hurt me.

Found out that I was hurt.

I was supposed to be untouchable after all.

I never questioned his intense protectiveness over me - it made me feel loved, and safe.

He was never overbearing about it, knowing I could handle myself, but that’s just who he was. Always wanting to protect and save everyone. I would break him to know he failed his moral.

So I should’ve been prepared for a full on hug, but I wasn’t.

It was to late to hide my yelp of pain, a tight wince on my face as pain racked through my abdomen.

“Woah, are you okay?”

His face wore concern, but I decided to brush it off.

“I’m fine.”

Yet my arm still circled my stomach, clutching the thick bandages.

“You’re obviously not.”

“I’m fine, really Newt.”

I looked at him and he looked at me. He knew I was lying.

I didn’t have any excuse so instead I came up with the best idea I could.

I walked away.

I had expected him to follow me, but when I looked back, he stood there with a dejected look on his face.

This was not the reunion I wanted.

——

A huge bonfire was lit in the middle of the beach.

There was music, and dancing, and laughter.

I was sitting with some Group B girls who had approached me, laughing lightly with them.

It was nice to have some girl company for once.

“Woah, what’s happening over there?” Asked one of the girls, gesturing to the left of where we sat together.

My gaze flipped over to where she was directing her comment at.

It was Newt, looking angry at a flustered Thomas.

I looked at the girls and shrugged. “I’ll go check it out.”

They let me go with the promise to bring them back all the tea, and I agreed with a chuckle.

Newt was close to yelling, as once I got a bit closer I could hear each word loud and clear.

“What do you mean she was bloody injured?”

My step paused, and I glanced at Thomas, who had noticed my presence and looked sheepish. ‘Sorry,’ he mouthed.

I saw Newts head swivel my way, looking at me with disbelief.

“Why the hell would you keep something like that from me?”

I didn’t answer, looking at him with silence, so he asked another question.

“What happened?”

At that, I lowered my eyes, and became very interested at a particular grain of sand just at the toe of my right shoe.

Newt was always good at connecting the dots.

“I.... I didn’t do that did I?”

His voice was soft, so that I could barely hear it over the chatter and crackling of the fire. The pain was evident in his voice, and I knew there ways no trying to lie my way out of this one.

“You were half delusional with the flare-“ I began to reason, but he had already stalked off. “Shit.”

I looked at Thomas who still looked sorry for spilling the secret, and Minho who was now whistling and looking anywhere but me.

I almost wanted to laugh at the situation, for believing that I could actually get away with the whole thing.

Instead I stalked off in the direction he went, ideas to try and make him understand that he shouldn’t feel like it was his fault running trough my mind.

I didn’t know how long I had been walking for to find Newt, and looking back, the bonfire was only a speck in the distance.

Here, it was just the stars and the waning moon lighting the cold beach sand.

I had taken my shoes off halfway through the walk, enjoying the tickle and peacefulness of being barefoot on a beach.

It wasn’t hard to find Newt, there was a trail of footsteps leading up to where he sat, off in the distance, and my injury made it hard for me to move at a faster pace, so I continued my slow treck - enjoying the moment alone while breathing in the salty air.

It felt wonderful.

Safe.

It was a rare feeling to come by in a predicament such as ours but we had done it.

And when I finally reached him, I laid down in silence, looking up at the stars.

It was silent for awhile before he began to talk.

“I had nightmares; when we first arrived and I was fully healed. Most of them consisted of you. You being tortured, you being dead. I remember there was one where you were screaming and I couldn’t get to you. It was like I was stuck. They’re all bloody terrible but the worst one was when I was a crank, fighting Tommy. You were trying to help me, give me the cure but - the flare - it consumes you. I didn’t know what I was doing. But I remember so distinctly taking my knife and running it across your stomach, deep... it always ended there.”

He pauses briefly, taking a shaky breath.

“I always thought they were just nightmares. I guess that last one was actually a memory.”

He was staring out into the distance, at the dark ocean.

I stayed silent.

“Can I see it?” He questioned quietly.

I sucked in a breath of my own, but nodded, knowing that he needed to see it for himself.

I sat up slowly, and lifted the bottom of my shirt, giving him access to where my bandage was tied up at the back.

I looked down and saw a noticeable difference from when I checked it earlier. The light red has blossomed into a darker one, coving almost the whole front of the bandage.

I hadn’t even seen it myself, and I wasn’t sure I wanted too.

I closed my eyes as Newt carefully unwrapped my bandage, until I could feel the sting of cold air hit the injury.

“Fuck.”

His reaction was enough to get me to look down and I could feel a bad taste in my mouth again.

Although stitched up, there was still blood oozing and so much red.

I looked up and closed my eyes again.

I had never done well with blood, always making Frypan cook the freshly cut meat, and turning down a part time medjack job after helping Frypan with a small burn he had recived from cooking said meat.

“I’m so bloody sorry love.”

I looked at him, tears in his eyes and his hand shaky, hovering just above the cut.

“Hey, Newt, it’s okay.”

“No it shucking isn’t.”

He sounded angry, force behind his words but it was only a short burst, his voice turning sad again as he cursed more.

His fingers trembled slightly as he carefully wrapped the bandage back up, asking if he needed to make it more loose or tighter.

Chills ran up and down my body when I felt his fingers brush my bare skin, and was disheartened when he finished.

I hadn’t talked much during the whole ordeal, not knowing what to say, and afraid to voice the wrong thing.

Mostly, I just wanted him to stop blaming himself, like I knew he was.

“I should’ve done something to stop it, I should’ve-“

“Nope, we aren’t doing this. Stop it.” I said firmly.

“No, it’s my fault, I should’ve just fought I harder, if I could’ve-“

And because I couldn’t think of any other way to get him to stop talking, I grabbed his chin, and pulled him down to me, gently colliding his lips with mine.

It was moments of pure bliss, before I pulled away and looked into his searching eyes.

“I told you to shut up.”

And it was like all traces of our previous conversation had dissolved when he mumbled, “Tell me again,” moving his hand so it was cupping my right check, and bringing our lips together once more.

It was soft, but I could still feel his anger and sadness and I pressed my lips harder to his.

When we broke apart, he rested his forehead against mine, both of us breathing harder than normal.

“You weren’t supposed to get hurt.” He said.

“I would’ve done it again. You’re alive Newt. That matters more than a cut.”

He just hummed a response, though I couldn’t translate what he meant by it.

“Wanna go back?” He asked.

“No.” I simply said.

So we sat side by side, watching the waves crash against the beach.

Simple.

Beautiful.

Peaceful.

Safe.

Together.

[winterscaptain]

in harmony.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader

a/n: i’ve cast the choirs (because i think i’m hilarious) and have a playlist to listen to as you read, if you want the ~full experience~. i’ve done my best to time it out with the music so it flows properly, depending on how fast you read. the beginning moves a little faster than the music, so i would recommend starting the playlist at the beginning of the fic. this one has been living in my head rent free for way too long and i’m so stoked to share it with you.

straight no chaser as the nsa mc6 a cappella as the atf pentatonix as the fbi

words: 4035 warnings: mild swearing, internal monologuing, and pining!hotch ft. supportive!jj, tw: a capella themes setlist here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7GQkhBUhUfdJI4m0vZbqbJ?si=46TMCTj9SkCRoHlnAxHfkg

masterlist | requests closed!

The Official Unofficial Los Angeles Inter-Agency Choral Competition was in its final stages of preparation, and you were at the center of it. CIA did the judging, as usual, and each agency had a team, a setlist, and a competitive streak a mile long. 

Because the bragging rights awarded by the CIA were so coveted, the agents involved in the choral groups got a half day off of work, waived by the Assistant Directors themselves. 

Thus, the NSA, ATF, and FBI choral teams were goofing around in the federal building auditorium with the abandon of a bunch of high schoolers. Sound check was always criminally fun, and most of it was spent giving each other a hard time and arranging music on the fly. 

The engineers were still working and would still need a few minutes to themselves before you all got onstage and ran your sets. 

“Hey, Bureau.” 

You turned, finding Ben behind you in his black button-up and tie. “Hey, dumbass.” 

Ben was the arranger for the NSA team and your closest friend in Los Angeles. You got along famously, and you joked that the friendship between you was the only reason there was interagency cooperation in your jurisdiction at all. 

He was looking particularly sharp this afternoon, as the NSA team prided themselves on their polished performance aesthetic. 

“Ready for tonight?” He asked. 

You laughed. “God, am I ever. I’ve been working CT down in the bunker for weeks.” 

“Oh, dude that’s brutal. When was the last time you saw daylight?”

You blew air through your lips. “Ah, fuck, I dunno, like a week?”

Ben laughed and slung an arm around your shoulders. “This is a helluva way to get back into civilization with the rest of us.” 

You scoffed. “It’s bold to imply anyone at the NSA is a part of any society.” 

“C’mon. Trash talking doesn’t start until we’ve rehearsed at least once.” He jostled you, and you let out another peal of laughter. 

“Try me, hot shot.” 

Meanwhile, upstairs, the BAU was finishing up their goodbyes and case reports for the Los Angeles field office. There was a spree killer wreaking havoc in the Mid-City neighborhood, and the BAU was of enormous help in apprehending the suspect. 

You’d been in the aforementioned CT bunker for at least a week and had no idea your (greatly missed) former unit was on your side of the country, let alone in the same building.  

“Oh!” Agent Fitzgerald said, suddenly. The BAU looked up all at once, and it was almost comical. “I completely forgot. There’s an event tonight that’s always really fun. If you all aren’t in any rush to get back to Quantico, we’d love for you to stay. If you’re eager to get back, they’re in the auditorium right now for a dress rehearsal and it shouldn’t take more than a half hour.” 

JJ’s head tilted. “What’s going on?”

“The Official Unofficial Los Angeles Inter-Agency Choral Competition.” Fitzgerald grinned. “It’s really fun, surprisingly good, and never not hilarious.” 

Emily laughed. “You’re kidding.” 

“Not even a little.” 

+++

Ben and his team were in the middle of their set, and you were bopping along with some of the ATF guys in the corner. 

You couldn’t deny the talent on the NSA team. They were clean-cut, crisp, and well-arranged (thanks to Ben), but you couldn’t help but think they were a little too polished. 

Ben had the lock on comedic mashups, and had a great on-stage persona - one of the very few NSA agents with a sense of humor. He sang directly to you, much of the time, in rehearsal because he knew it made you laugh. His sense of humor was infused through all the arrangements, and the lyrics alone were enough to have you on the floor.

Their movie medley opener was your favorite, full of silly references and even a sing-along section. You knew all the words simply because you’d sat with Ben as he spent three days arranging and adjusting it a couple of months ago. Obviously, you offered absolutely no help because all you wanted was to watch him crash and burn. 

Maybe some sabotage could come in handy next time…

They rounded out their set with a clean-cut cover of Smash Mouth’s All Star. Ben was always in it for the laugh, and you loved it. Both teams in the house were laughing as the NSA made increasingly bigger spectacles of themselves. 

It was easier to forget how much you missed your family in Virginia when you were with the other teams - rehearsing and bonding and spending time together. There was no unit in Los Angeles like the BAU insofar as the bond between team members, but this event always mimicked it better than anything else. 

Without Ben, you’d barely have anyone at all. He happened to be assigned to you as a liaison between agencies on one of your first cases, and you got on like a house on fire. His friends became your friends, and you found your footing in your new home. They showed you the best beaches (Manhattan and Malibu), the best sushi (Enya), and perhaps most importantly - the best route and attack strategy for navigating the hell that was LAX. 

You avoided calling your old unit as much as possible, as you were sure it would keep you from fully settling down. If half of your head was in Virginia, you’d always hate Los Angeles. That said, Aaron was still the first number on your speed dial, and your thumb spent a fair amount of time hovering over it before inevitably shoving it back in your pocket. You’d done it just today, walking from your office to the auditorium. 

You left the ATF to their ridiculous devices, and joined your team in the house. 

“Doin’ alright? I heard it was a rough week for y’all down in CT.” Michael, a Texas native and an insane talent, could have been an excellent profiler if he wasn’t so great at ferreting out tax fraud. You both spoke in hushed tones, as to not disrupt the rehearsal. 

You nodded, patting him on the arm. “I’m alright.” 

“Missin’ home?” 

You nodded again. “Just a bit. It’s weird coming out into the world after being in the bunker - it’s almost like I don't remember where I am, and I almost expect to be somewhere else.”

He didn’t say anything, but leaned against you. It was a small gesture, but a meaningful one.

When NSA was finished, with their levels set and lights programmed, it was ATF’s turn to get up on stage and flutter around until they were adjusted. 

Michael said something ridiculous, and it made you laugh out loud. You slapped a hand over your mouth, hearing it resonate through the house as one of the floor mics picked it up.  

At the back of the auditorium, only minutes prior, Agent Fitzgerald had slipped in with the BAU. They all stood along the back wall, and you only would have seen them if you knew where to look. The auditorium was massive, and the only lights up were the lights onstage - distinguishable features were nearly impossible to determine from the distance. 

Aaron’s breath caught for a moment. A microphone picked up someone’s laugh near the stage, and it sounded startlingly like yours.  

Must be mistaken. There’s no way. 

As ATF started up, Ben grabbed you by the hand and pulled you to your feet. He turned you under his arm and led - dancing you around on the floor at the front of the stage. You laughed your way into his arms, and fell into a relaxed Lindy Hop. You took turns leading, throwing him under your arm just as many times as you ducked under his. 

Aaron’s thoughts wandered, the laugh he heard triggering something in him. He missed you greatly, but that was no secret. You two had started seeing each other, unbeknownst to the team, a little more than three months before your transfer. 

The team were too polite to tell you, but they knew something was going on from the get-go. Hotch was happier, and you were more effusive in all situations. You balanced each other well, and could bounce ideas and fight and communicate like nobody else in the unit. It was an asset more than anything, but when the transfer assignment came through, there was no negotiating. 

For all involved, you decided it was best to end things - or at least pause them - while you were stationed at the LA field office. It would be too hard, and you’d hate to hate him by the time you got back to Virginia for one reason or another. So, you were alone at the LA field office, while he stayed right were he was. 

Wait. The LA field office. 

He was jarred from his thoughts by JJ, who smiled and asked, “What’s their deal?” Her eyes were trained on the dancing couple on the house floor, out in front of the apron of the stage. 

“Oh those two are the only reason the FBI and NSA play nicely in the sandbox together. They’re two peas in a pod. They work counter-terrorism for their respective agencies, and have a knack for solving inter-departmental disputes.” 

“Are they together?” JJ’s question was light, but Hotch knew there were ulterior motives. Maybe she’d heard your laugh too, and refused to doubt. 

She was good at that - not doubting. Hotch, on the other hand, sucked at the whole faith thing. He found his skepticism was only getting worse with age, and he (in that very moment) decided to have a little more hope. 

“Oh, no, not at all. Ben doesn’t swing that way, and my understanding is that Agent L/N left someone back on the east coast and hasn’t been seeing anyone out here.” It was clear Agent Fitzgerald, a new import to the LA field office herself, had no idea you worked with the BAU prior to your transfer. 

Maybe you hadn’t talked about them at all. 

That thought sent a little unpleasant spike through Hotch’s chest. 

Hope. Hope. 

Maybe Fitzgerald just missed something, or didn’t know you too well. 

Hotch could feel Emily’s eyes on him, but continued watching the ATF runthrough. It was your laugh he heard. Ben threw you around with ease, and you both cut clean, sharp lines silhouetted against the stage lights. 

Then, of course, it was Emily’s turn to ask questions. “So how did this...tradition start?”

Fitzgerald shrugged. “It’s my understanding that it’s been happening for years, brought on by some ridiculous bet between ATF and FBI. Never ones to be outdone, the NSA inserted themselves, the CIA wanted a piece of action, and the rest is history.”

“Only in California,” said Dave with a laugh. 

As the songs changed, Aaron watched you tap out of the dance, sitting down heavily in one of the house seats and taking a few huge sips of water. Ben grabbed his water bottle from the floor and came to the row behind you, wrapping his arms around you from behind and resting his chin on your shoulder. 

Though he was just told Ben would not ever be into you in that way, Hotch couldn’t help the prickle of jealousy that snuck up his belly. JJ, beside him, stepped close to him and hooked her hand around his forearm, her thumb brushing circles against his suit jacket. 

“I’m alright,” he whispered. 

She squeezed once. “I know.” It sounded like she knew more than that, but Hotch let it go. While sometimes irritating, it was nice to have people around him that knew him so well. 

JJ continued to cling to his sleeve as the ATF transitioned to the FBI. 

It nearly startled him out of his skin to hear your voice echo through the house on a hand-held microphone. You stood on the edge of the stage, squinting at the booth at the back of the house. “Can we run full tech? We have AV that needs to be sequenced correctly.” 

A click, then a disembodied voice. “We’re ready for full AV.”

You shot a two fingered salute. “Thanks, team. Let’s bring up the seal for now and go from there.” 

The FBI seal and motto floated into focus on the fabric behind them, and Aaron felt himself almost lean forward in anticipation. He chanced a look down the line, and the rest of his team was smiling, waiting, watching. Just like he was. 

JJ bumped his shoulder.  

The stage was rather dark, but he could see all five of you lined up almost against the fabric. The song started quickly, with strong base and an uptempo beat. 

Your team ran to the front of the stage one by one, following the phrases of the music - fun and high energy. 

“I didn’t know…” Emily whispered to Derek, at a loss. He shrugged, still totally floored. You’d never joined them in their horrible karaoke spectacles, claiming the sanctity of your dignity, but Hotch realized now it was just to spare their feelings. 

You were incredible. Your eyes shone in the light, your smile flashing behind your microphone. It was obvious you were having a helluva time, and were close to your teammates. You played off each other easily, keeping pace without conducting, feeling the music and harmony in every cell of your body. Hotch saw your work ethic even in this - collaborative, but still taking charge. 

It was clear your team looked to you for tone and energy, and you delivered. With a start, Aaron realized he’d never heard this song before. He leaned forward and asked, “Are some of these originals?”

Fitzgerald nodded. “The FBI team has a few strong writers on it this year, so they were able to pull together a medley, an original, and the closer in about three weeks.” 

Hotch raised his eyebrows. “Wow. That’s impressive.” 

She laughed lightly. “You’re tellin’ me. I was in here one day when they were workshopping after hours and was blown away.” 

When you were finished with your first piece, you looked back to check the cyc - satisfied to find Home, arranged by Y/N L/N in gold, in the FBI font. 

“I’m gonna practice my little spiel here or I won’t get it tonight. I’ll count you off at the end, go on three, yeah?” 

Click. “Copy. Go for it,” came the disembodied voice once more. 

“When we were deciding which medley we wanted to use, we figured out there was nothing in our library that really spoke to us at that moment where we were. So, we wrote a new one. This one is called Home, and includes a bunch of songs that not only include the word ‘home,’ but ones that mean something to us or someone we love. 

“Home, to us, is where our families are. We all chose a series of pictures that represent home for us, the people we love. I hope you enjoy listening to this medley as much as we enjoyed writing it.” You flashed a winning smile before raising your hand, waiting a moment, and then dropping it, immediately starting to sing. 

The rest of your team fell in right away, stepping up to the mics and sinking into the arrangement. A figure jogged up the steps toward Hotch, and he latently realized it could only be Ben, his agile stride giving him away. 

He settled right beside Hotch, leaning against the wall. Needless to say, Aaron was confused. That is, until - 

“You’re Hotchner, aren’t you?”

Aaron kept his gaze trained on the stage. “Who’s asking?”

“Ben Collins, NSA. I would be a really shitty friend if I couldn’t recognize someone I’d seen in a framed photo on Y/N’s desk like 20 times.” 

With that, he gave Hotch a mock-salute and trotted back down the stairs. 

JJ furrowed her brow. “What was that about?”

“I have no idea,” Hotch admitted. “He knew me, though, from photos.” 

He felt, rather than saw, JJ’s smile as she bumped him with her shoulder. “Focus - You’re missing it.” 

He huffed a laugh, and tuned back in. 

Home was an undeniably fun medley, and the photos were heartwarming and strategically chosen to hide all faces except the agents’ on stage. Aaron smiled when he heard a line from one of his favorite songs. 

Our house Is a very very very fine house...

Just a brush, but it felt like your touch, your smile, reaching him. You took the next section with renewed energy, never falling into stillness as you drove the music forward. 

JJ clutched at Hotch’s sleeve, and he lifted his gaze from you to the cyc. On it, there were photos of Dave’s backyard, mixed in with what he only assumed were the pictures from your teammates’ homes and families. They were piling on top of each other, as if someone was throwing them into a pile, one by one. 

A photo of JJ, Emily, and Penelope flashed by, their backs to the camera. 

There was one of you, Jack’s face hidden in your neck as you smiled fondly at the person just to the left of the camera. Aaron recognized that image, but from a different angle. You’d been smiling at him, just next to Emily. 

Emily’s eyes strayed to Hotch. There was a look on his face she’d never seen before. She almost looked away, feeling like she was intruding on an intimate moment. Instead, she lightly smacked Derek’s shoulder, and he looked over too. 

“The separation has been hard on them both,” he said, his voice low. “Look.” He tipped his chin toward you. 

Your posture didn’t look any different to anyone who knew better, but Emily could see the slight sag in your shoulders, hear the small catch in your breath. The music affected you more than you’d care to admit. 

A photo came into view on the screen - one where you stared out the jet window with your chin in your hand, Hotch’s face pressed into your torso as he slept with his head in your lap. Your fingers were tangled in his thick dark hair, twirling absent-minded curls into the locks behind his ear. JJ smiled. She’d taken that one. It was soon covered with another, then another, then another. 

Agent Fitzgerald bid the team a quiet farewell and slipped out to take a phone call. Hotch barely noticed. She’d been on her phone most of the time, and had missed the photos. She was blissfully unaware of your connection to the team, and for that Hotch was grateful. It almost felt wrong to disrupt the little world you’d built here. 

They were almost done, preparing for the closer. 

Maybe he was biased, but Hotch felt your team was the strongest. 

NSA had the polish and that classic choral look and looked like they were having just the right amount of fun, but there was still that competitive edge that took some of the luster out of the performance. 

ATF were the most traditional of the group, all of their music recognizable, tightly arranged, and reminiscent of barbershop quartets. While entertaining, it was clear you and Ben stole the show with your dancing, the music taking a ready backseat to your antics. 

Your team had fun. There was no bite in it. You weren’t there to win, but rather just there for the sheer fun of it. Your music was yours, it meant something, and was more creatively arranged than the rest of them by a long shot. 

Aaron felt a rush of pride as he watched you shine. While he couldn’t articulate it, he could sense the same thing Derek noticed. There was something pulling at you - the same thing pulling at his shoulders and the corners of his mouth whenever he had fun without you. 

“Alright,” you said, just a little out of breath. You took the mic off the stand. “We have one last number, and we all sing it together.” You held the mic out to your left, and Ben took it from you. 

“This is our favorite, because it’s a really good excuse to think of the people we love.” 

Some agent (whose name always escaped you) from the ATF took the mic next. “Thanks for coming out tonight to watch our ridiculous annual competition, for bragging rights and honorary ownership of the City of Los Angeles.” 

Ben took the mic from him and passed it back to you. 

“I hope we all have someone in our life that we love so much it's difficult to articulate. I know I do.” 

JJ inhaled sharply as Hotch let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. You missed him. He could feel it. He wasn’t alone. 

You replaced the mic, and stepped back. With the FBI in the center, ATF to the right, and NSA to the left, you began. 

There’s a calm surrender To the rush of day When the heat of a rolling wave Can be turned away

It was a beautiful picture, all of you standing together as one united front. The sound was incredible - filling the space with sound that spun right into the chests of everyone listening. You stepped up with Ben and an ATF agent, standing close to the mic. 

Ben reached for your hand, knowing this one was hard for you. You’d probably never get a chance to have Hotch in the same room, feeling what you felt, singing this song. It was silly - a Disney song. But it always cracked you wide open. It was only ever for him. 

You took Ben’s hand and gripped it tight. It wasn’t performance, so you could really do whatever you wanted as long as sound and projections were able to do their work. 

The breakdown of the song was your favorite, and you threw your hands in the air, releasing Ben - the final lighting cue of the show. It was designed to bridge the gap between the players and the audience, bringing everyone together.

The house lights came on about halfway, and the BAU was visible from the stage, as they’d all crept forward during the set. Hotch could only imagine what that lighting effect would do when the house was full of agents and their families later tonight. A true communion, with the music and the people. 

Your eyes scanned the house, rehearsing your engagement pathway through the audience. A small cluster of people caught your attention, and Ben squeezed your hand. You looked over at him, still singing, and he gave a tiny toss of his head back to the group. 

Looking more carefully now, you saw your team. More specifically, you saw Aaron. 

He was watching you with a fond smile, and you knew he saw you clock his presence. JJ was on his arm, likely anchoring in him place and comforting him in only the way she could. 

Against your will, a broad smile pulled at your face, a shot of adrenaline pushing you into the finale. Your eyes were locked on his, the music only a footnote to two simple words running on loop in your head. 

He’s here he’s here he’s here he’s here.

The world for once In perfect harmony With all its living things. 

You hit the final chord and let it hang in the air for a moment. It felt like forever - the BAU burst into applause, Derek and Emily whistling and shouting - while you and Hotch just stared at each other across the house.

The connection was only broken when Ben yanked you back to rehearse bows, which took all of thirty seconds. You squinted at your friend when you stood straight again. He had a smug little smile on his face. 

“You knew,” you accused with absolutely no heat. 

Ben shrugged. “I investigated.” He shot you a wink as he said, “It’s what I do.” 

You rolled your eyes and shoved past him, nearly leaping down the steps into the house. You ran up the aisle, and Hotch was there to catch you, holding you close. 

“You’re here.” 

He kissed the side of your head. “Of course I’m here. Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” 

+++

tagging: @arganfics @quillvine @stxrryspencer @agenthotchner @wandaswitxh @hurricanejjareau @fics-ilike @ange-must-die @ughitsbaby @rousethemouse @criminalsmarts  @dr-reid-ismyspiritanimal @shrimpyblog @genevievedarcygranger @ssaic-jareau @saintd0lce @good-heavens-chris-evans @davidrossi-ismydad @angelsbabey @gublergirls @writefasttalkevenfaster @venusbarnes @vintagecaptainspidey @micaiahmoonheart @ogmilkis @thatreallyis-americas-ass @marvels-agents100 @newtslatte @risenfox @mrs-dr-reid @captain-christopher-pike @joemazzello-imagines @pinkdiamond1016 @sebbybaby0 @lilsiswinchester @pan-pride-12 @hotchlinebling @lee-rin-ah @sunshine-em @word-scribbless @jdougl-love @sageellsworth05 @emmice9 @nohalohoseok @giveusbackourbucky @writerxinthedark @mrshotchnerrossimulder21 @bauslut @yourlovelynewsbian @sparklingkeylimepie @aili28 @kingandrear @reader4027 @spnobsessedmemes @rogers-mouth @dreila03 @forgottenword @aaronhotchnerr @ssa-morgan @hotchnersgoddess @buckybau @phoenixfyre374 @sana-li @tegggeeee @abschaffer2 @ssacandi-ass-prentiss @songbird400 @dontkissthewriter @ellyhotchner @a-dorky-book-keeper @lotties-journey-abroad @mrs-joel-pimentel-23-25 @laneygthememequeen @ahopelessromantic @violentvulgarvolatile @andreasworlsboring101 @mooneylupinblack @ssareidbby @violet-amxthyst @bwbatta @roses-and-grasses 

[sim0nade]

Horde!Adora hcs with the bfs adjusting to life in space? (either during season 5 and/or post war,)

Oh dang! Well this is a lil too far ahead so I might mix some hcs that I have for the main series...

Maybe I never said it but Adora will never call Glimmer “Sparkles”, nicknames are a Catra's thing.. But Adora for like all the main part of the story will call Glimmer “Glitter” instead, this will kinda stick up expecially when they’re joking around.

Adora and Bow will be like super best pal ... Both rumbling about arrows and swords all day.

Catra and Glimmer on the other hand are more into strategy and planning, so even tho in the beginning they didn’t really bond, they will be inseparable.-Catra will feel betrayed by Adora around season 3, this will be the start of Catra and Glimmer bond-

Around the time of early season 3, Glimmer discovered why Catra always tried to protect Adora and let her escape. The 2 were some sorta of an unofficial couple before the sword events, back in the horde and the 2 kept caring for one and another even when they were “trying to kill each other”.

During the HP events Adora is still emotionnally gone and she doesn't care at all for her life. She knows she’s kinda useless for Prime so she doesn’t try to piss him off. This will be all if Adora didn’t reveal her ability of being able to interact with first one tech. Adora didn’t mention that even tho she can read and interact with first one tech, she can’t activate any of the machinery. 

Glimmer will be kinda forced to say the truth about the heart of etheria and this will push Prime to get his hands on Catra. This will let Adora react, because she knows damn well that Catra will turn herself in just for getting out her friends. 

Adora will do everything to keep her Catra safe and she will try a way to let Glimmer escape.

After letting Glimmer escape we will hear the iconic “Eat Shit” from Adora while she's being strangle seemingly to death.

Catra will start to destroy everything in her path with her bare hands and claws.

After destoying the sword Catra will be using her old combat style.

Prime will use Adora’s “perfect” body and he will hide her facial scar with a mask- phantom of the opera style-.

After the war Adora will be like “I let them destroy everything.. I never stood up cause I was blinded and.. I have to repair what I have done with.. The portal” and she will not feel ok until she actually helped everyone.

Catra loves being in space, Adora loves being with Catra all the time.

After their space travel the bfs will be back in Brightmoon. Adora will be more than happy to travel around Etheria with Catra and helping everyone who needs help.

I hope this make sense .. I kinda hate type long stuff cause I kinda get lost while typing ... Welp I hope y’all find this mess interesting xD

[nicb0723]

Find Your Worth

John Wick x Reader

Summary: You meet John in an unconventional way.

A/N: Marcus is alive

Word Count: 12,357

Read Chapter 1

Read Chapter 2

Chapter 3

**

The next shift you work Officer Saunders stops in and introduces himself as Jimmy. He’s the same officer friend John did the favor for that fateful day and he’s also the officer who helped you get Max put away. What are the odds?

“He hasn’t come around or anything, right?”

You’re stocking the medicine section and squating on the floor, so you have to keep looking up as Jimmy keeps asking you questions. “No, sir. I haven’t heard anything from him. I actually heard he’s in rehab, so that’s good?”

“You hear that from John?”

“Yep. Don’t ask me how he found out.”

Jimmy smirks and adjusts his police cap on his head. “John knows a lot about everything it seems.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s kind of annoying.”

He laughs and helps you up when you’re finished with the last box. “I can see why John likes you, you tell it like it is.”

Smiling, you walk behind the counter to start on the schedule for next week. “Yeah? I probably annoy him too then.”

“Hmm, not the way he tells it. I’ve never seen him--” Jimmy gets cut off when his radio beeps loudly and he has to go. Before he leaves he tells you to give him a call if anything comes up, and you wonder what he was going to say. 

**

A few days later John wants to take you out to celebrate your promotion, but you tell him that the movie and sushi were plenty, but thank you anyway. He goes silent until he shows up at the gas station a few hours later.

“Hey!” You greet him with a warm smile. You secretly love it when he surprises you at work. “What’re you doing here?” John is wearing a suit again and you instinctively reach to his forehead where there’s a cut and bruise forming. “What happened? Are you okay?”

He grabs your hand before you can touch his sensitive skin. “I’m fine, just work.”

“Oh.” You hadn’t realized he had a job since you saw him last. He kept texting you every day like usual and didn’t mention it. For some reason it hurts your feelings, that he would keep something from you. “You didn’t tell me you were working.”

“It was quick. Didn’t even have to leave town. In and out.” 

“Oh.” You don’t really know what to say. “Okay.”

He’s still holding on to your hand and he’s just looking at you with a small grin.

“What’s that look for?”

“I mean, maybe my face does hurt a little.”

“Really?” You’re instantly concerned. “You want me to look at it? Do you want some aspirin or something?”

Slowly, he shakes his head, looking at you intently. “I think we know what the best remedy is for a bruise. How’s your foot?”

You realize that he wants a kiss and push him gently away. “John, stop. I was seriously worried.”

He laughs at your innocence and bows his head for forgiveness, but he’s still smiling. 

“Is that all you came here for?” You ask, bored of his antics but really it’s all just an act. You still get the butterflies.

“Well, no, Miss Assistant Manager, I really do want to take you out to celebrate.”

You sigh loudly. “I thought we already talked about this.”

“No, you talked about it.” John follows you up to the counter when the bell dings, signaling a customer came in. You quickly ring the couple up and they’re on their way back to a van full of screaming kids. John keeps himself busy looking at the magazine rack until you’re done.

“I have a feeling you won’t take no for an answer?”

He gives you the most pitiful expression, making you feel guilty. “If you want me to be sad, I’ll take the no.”

“Fine, John. But I have to work the next few days and I don’t really feel like going out.”

“I can cook. Just come over after your shift tomorrow.”

You give him a doubtful look. “You’ll cook or order take out?”

“I can cook… do you like grilled cheese?”

Laughing, you lean against the counter and smile. “Actually, that sounds good. Want me to bring anything?”

“Nope. I got this.” He tells you confidently. His phone beeps and he briefly looks at it. “I gotta go. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“I might be tired and grumpy after my shift, just warning you.”

He’s looking at you like he wants to do something, maybe give you a hug or tuck your hair behind your ear. He doesn’t though and starts to step towards the door. “I like a good challenge. You remember where I live?”

“Yes, I remember.” 

“Text me when you get home tonight.”

“Okay.” You never do and that just makes him frustrated until he texts you first, about thirty minutes after he knows your shift is over. He’s done it every night since going to the movie. You know he still has the motion detectors cameras on his phone so instead, you just wave at the cameras. 

Still though, it makes you feel special.

**

You end up bringing some homemade cookies you had time to bake since you didn’t have to be at work until eleven this morning. You got off at seven and the day had dragged on. Around seven thirty you get to John’s house, lit up and inviting. 

When you walk in you can’t mistake the smell of scented candles in the air. You try to hide a smile when you see John in the kitchen and he has on an apron, busy with whatever he’s making. He doesn't hear you until the dog makes a scene and demands your attention, wagging his tail and almost knocking you over. 

You gladly give it to him after putting the cookies on the counter and kneel on the floor, petting him and giving smooches. 

“Pooch! Off!”

The dog immediately obeys and runs towards John. 

“Can’t a girl get some love around here?” You ask, setting your purse down. You wore your tight jeans and took off your sweater in the car, leaving you in a black tank top. Usually you don’t show this much skin, but it’s hot out today and the air is broken at work.

John is good about not staring for too long, but he definitely notices. “No. I’m jealous.”

You walk towards him and open your arms for a hug. It’s the least you can do. “Hi. Thank you for making me dinner.”

His smile is worth the slightly awkward hug, which you have to stand on your tiptoes for. His hands are careful on your back, like you’re made of glass.

“How was your day?” He asks, pulling out a stool for you to sit and keep him company. 

“Long. Boring. I’m only slightly grumpy and tired.”

He grabs some white wine. “I think I can help with that. Or would you rather something else?”

“No, that’s perfect. Thank you. How was your day?” You don’t drink much wine, never really being able to afford it, but you can tell this bottle is expensive. It’s smooth and crisp, and it does make you relax.

“A little busy, actually. I have to go out of town next week for work.”

“Oh really?” You’re glad he’s telling you about a job this time. You don’t think a lot of people get to know about John Wick’s life and you like that he includes you in it. “Where are you going? Or maybe you can’t tell me?”

He’s focused on chopping lettuce. “California, probably San Francisco but the target might move.”

“Do you get to have any fun after you’re… done? Like, explore the city or anything?”

John shrugs and moves on to slice a tomato. “It’s not really a vacation. And I’d like to get home.”

“You probably want to rest, right?” You don’t mention that he might have to heal too, from the looks of quick jobs John has had, you can’t imagine how he’d come home after a job that lasts a few days. The bruise on his forehead has faded a little, and the cut is small but deep.

“Yeah. And lately I have things to look forward to now.” He glances to Pooch and then to you.

You’re getting really good at dodging his comments. “Do you want me to watch him while you’re gone? I’d be happy to.”

“I already promised Cassey, but thanks for offering.”

“Okay, just know the offer is always there.” You’re only a little disappointed. You like being able to help John out, especially after everything he’s done for you. 

He smiles brightly and grabs a plate of steaks you hadn’t seen, but you were wondering what that great smell lingering in the kitchen was. “Are you hungry?”

“No grilled cheese?”

“I was joking, I can at least grill some meat for you.”

You clutch your heart and head over to the table, first grabbing the bowl of vegetables he was slicing up. “My prince charming.” 

He laughs and gets the glasses of wine he had poured. This is perfect. It’s not fancy, but it’s really nice and you can tell he put in some effort. Both of you slide into chairs and he picks up his glass to clink it with yours. “Congratulations on your promotion. You deserve it.”

You blush and smile. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do all of this. We should have just gone out.”

“Nonsense.” He says and starts in on his salad. “I agree with you, this is better than sitting in a restaurant.”

You take a bite of your steak and moan. “This is so good. I can’t remember the last time someone cooked for me. I ate out all the time when grandma was in the hospital. This is a great treat.”

He puts his fork down and only hesitates a little, meaning another comment is about to come. “You know if you lived here, we could do this all the time.” 

Avoid and deflect, your new strategy. “So, San Francisco, huh? Have you ever been there before?”

He just shakes his head as usual at the way you change the subject. It seems you both are catching on to each other. “A few times. The food there is good. I don’t really leave the hotel much besides for work.”

“Do you ever get nervous, like before doing… whatever it is you’ll do?”

He takes a sip of wine. “Not anymore. I used to though. But now I do research, prepare, and survey first so I know what I’m walking into.”

You’re very intrigued. This is all so interesting. “How did you get started? I mean… was this what you wanted to do?” That would be really weird if John did choose this life. Choose to kill people. You don’t know if you can still hang out with him if he says yes.

“No, no… not at all. It’s actually a really long story. So is how I tried to get out.”

You look at him thoughtfully. “Sucks being good at something that you hate, hmm?”

“Yes, exactly.”

“Okay, just one more question and I’m done.”

John smiles and tells you to go ahead.

“Is it a natural talent or did you have to train?”

“Both. I went to an assassin school. In Russia.” He shifts in his chair, and you can tell he’s wondering if he’s telling you too much. “And Italy.”

Your eyes widen. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, I guess that’s what you could call it.”

Wow. You had no idea something like that would even exist. “It’s like something out of a movie.” 

He laughs softly. “I wish it was just a movie sometimes.”

“Well, if it were a movie you wouldn’t be sitting here with me eating this delicious steak.”

“That’s true. Are you sure it’s good?”

“Mmm.” You say with your mouth full and after you swallow, “Positive.” 

Both of you continue to eat and when you’re almost done John asks, “Did I see some cookies on the counter?” 

You nod and tell him not to judge. “I haven’t baked in a long time.”

“No judgement,” John agrees. “Do you think you can stay awhile and we can watch a movie or something?”

“Yeah, I don’t have to be at work until late afternoon.” You stand to help clear the dishes. When John starts to protest you tell him to stop it and you’re helping. 

The kitchen gets cleaned up fast and both of you fall on to the couch easily. You both had busy days and both of you are tired, so the TV is low and something is on, but you’re not really paying attention. After John gets up to let the dog out and grab some cookies, he sits closer to you. 

You side eye him suspiciously, but he just breaks a cookie in half and offers it to you. 

“Hey! Not bad,” You’re impressed with yourself yet again. 

“I would pay you to make these for me.” John says seriously. 

You elbow him in the side. “Just tell me when you want a batch and you got it.”

“Score.” He quietly celebrates a victory which makes you giggle. 

Before you know it, he’s covering you up with a blanket and turning the TV off. You must’ve fallen asleep because you’re completely stretched out on the couch and it’s incredibly comfortable.

You don’t want to get up but instead you yawn and mumble, “I should go home.” 

John kneels down beside the couch and you can feel a fingertip brush the hair out of your face. “It’s too late for you to drive.” He whispers softly. “You want to sleep in the bed? I can sleep down here.”

You don’t open your eyes and hope that he keeps touching you. “No, this is so good.” You tell him sleepily. “Are you sure you don’t mind? I can leave. I’m sorry I fell asleep.”

“Don’t apologize.” His voice is still soft, and so is the touch of his thumb against your cheek. “Of course I don’t mind. Just come upstairs if you get uncomfortable, okay?”

“Mm’kay.” You wait for him to gather the dog and turn off all the lights except one in the kitchen before he goes upstairs. Then you hear the sounds of the water running as he washes up and footsteps towards his bed. You weren’t lying, the couch is very comfortable but your jeans are not and you wiggle out of them, leaving you in boyshorts underwear and thin tank top. You slide out of your bra too, and toss your clothes in a pile on the floor. You figure you’ll sleep for a few more hours and then head home, before John will see you in the morning. 

You sleep hard for a while and the sound of whining startles you awake. Pooch is crying, his snout practically in your face and you sit up, trying to figure out where the hell you are. You eventually recognize the living room and assume he has to go outside, so you tip toe towards the sliding glass door and open it for him. He doesn’t go out and cries some more, staring at you and walking in between your legs, bumping at your knees. 

“What do you want? Food? Money?” You whisper and he starts up the steps towards upstairs, turning around to look at you again. He’s waiting for you to follow him? And then you hear a bang, like something heavy fell on the floor above. You hear John grunt and it doesn’t sound good at all. 

Rushing past the dog, you run up the stairs as fast as you can without falling. There’s hardly any light but you can make out shapes of furniture as you start to wake up.  “John! Are you okay?” You whisper loudly because what if he’s just fine? You’re probably panicking for no reason. He doesn’t answer though and you find him sitting on the floor, his back leaning against his bed. 

“What’re you doing down here?” You run your palm over his forehead and push his hair from his eyes. He’s sweating and clammy. He must be running a fever. “John, are you sick?”

“I don’t know.” He finally answers, and he’s holding the side of his stomach. “I think… I think it’s my appendix.”

You reach to turn on the lamp on the bed side table and you both squint at the sudden brightness. “Are you sure? Let’s get you back into bed.” He’s really heavy and you’re probably not helping very much, but he does manage to lay back down, hand still clutching his side. 

You sit on the bed, pushing up his t-shirt and pulling away his hand. “I don’t see anything.” Running your hand down his stomach, you notice it is a little swollen. It’s usually flat and slim under his tight t-shirts. Not that you’ve been looking or anything…

You also see a smatter of scars across his skin, a long jagged one under his belly button that probably came from a fight and from the looks of it, John is lucky to be alive. You stare for a little too long until he groans softly. 

And damn. He’s holding his right side. 

“Okay, no problem.” You tell him calmly, trying to get him to look at you instead of squeezing his eyes shut from pain.  “I’m just gonna drive you to the hospital and they’ll fix you all up.”

“I usually avoid hospitals.” He breathes out, finally looking at you. “What’re you wearing?”

Oh God. You look down at yourself and your tank top is not really covering anything up, especially as you’re leaning over and your legs are bare, underwear completely on display. You quickly situate yourself the best you can. “Um, I got comfortable. And that’s not really important right now.”

John leans back on the pillow and whimpers again, but this time not because of the pain. “I can’t believe the first time you’re in my bed and I feel like I’m gonna throw up.”

“Alright here we go.” You ignore him and start running around his room, not caring you’re just in underwear right now. “We gotta get you some pants and some shoes and your wallet. What else…” Talking to yourself helps calm your nerves and eventually, after opening his huge closet and most of the dresser drawers, you find some sweatpants and slippers he can wear.  “Okay, we gotta get you downstairs. Are you ready to walk?” 

John looks you up and down again, his face flushing and he grumbles. “Yeah, I’ve had much worse than this.” He has to stop a few times down the stairs though to breathe, waiting out the sharp pains until they dull enough so he can keep going.

You put his arm around your shoulders and your arm around his hips and the both of you go slow and steady. “Good job! You’re doing great. We’re almost there. Do you know where your wallet is?” Your voice is high and squeaky but you can’t help it. You know you need to hurry so his appendix doesn’t burst. 

“It’s in the bowl.”

You find it quickly and leave him to lean on the couch while you shuffle back into your jeans and turn around so you can slip your bra back on.  You find your shoes by the other side of the couch and realize John must have taken them off for you. That was sweet. “Okay, purse. I just need my purse and then we can go. Oh and my keys.” You walk back into the kitchen and find all of your stuff and rush back to John, who is walking slowly towards the closet.

“Here, wear my jacket. You’ll freeze.”

You slip the suit jacket on and smell John all around you. It’s so good. Focus. “I have your phone, do you need anything else?”

“We’re taking my car.” 

“You can’t drive!”

John just looks at you, sweaty hair falling in his eyes. “You can drive my car.”

“Umm… No, I don’t think so.”

“C’mon, let’s go.” John uses the wall to steady himself until you catch up to him, circling your arm carefully around his waist to help. You realize his whole body is shaking. 

“John, I can’t drive your car, what if I crash it?”

“You won’t.”

You feel bad for arguing with him when he’s sick, so you don’t say anything else and guide him gently to sit down in the passenger seat. You lean over to put his seatbelt on and you swear he smells your hair.

“Okay, I can totally do this. Where the hell am I going?” You ask as you press the button to open the garage door and start the car. John finds his phone that was in your purse and turns on Maps. 

“If I do go to the hospital, this is where I go.”

You put his phone where you can see it and the hospital is actually pretty close, only about a ten minute drive. “When did you have to go to the hospital last?”

He looks very uncomfortable and stiff so you reach over and grab his hand. He quickly threads his fingers through yours and leans back a little. “Uh, I got shot on a job and drove three hours.”

You try not to seem horrified. “Why didn’t you stop somewhere else?”

“I thought I could get the bullet out myself.”

Perfectly reasonable you think to yourself, sarcastically.  “You couldn’t do it?”

John whimpers when you drive over a few bumps, but otherwise this car is a smooth ride. “There was too much blood and I also sprained my wrist, so I couldn't get a good grip.”

“Is this worse than being shot?” You ask, trying to keep him distracted. 

“Neither are fun.”

You bite at your lip as you concentrate on the road. There’s no traffic because it’s so late and the hospital is close. “You’ll probably go right into surgery. I’ll check in on Pooch, okay? Is there anything else you want me to do?”

“No.”

You’re surprised he agreed so quickly and glad he doesn’t give you a hard time about it. 

“Are you sure?”

There it is. “Yes, I’m sure.”

“Okay well, just stay at the house. Use the garage door opener to get in and out. Eat whatever you want. You can stay in my room, don’t--” He grabs at his stomach and winces, “don’t sleep on the couch. And his food is in the laundry room and he likes to run around in the backyard.”

“Anything else?”

He squeezes your hand. “Thank you.”

“Of course, John.” You pull up to the emergency door and put the car in park. “Friends take care of each other, right?” 

The car door opens and you hurry around to help John get inside. You stay with him as long as you can, talk to the doctor, give the nurse your phone number so they can call you when he’s out of surgery, and try to fill out as much paperwork as you can. When it’s time for you to leave, you lean over John and press your palm to his beard. 

“It’ll be over before you know it, okay? I’ll be here when they’re done.”

John weakly smiles at you and they start to wheel him away.

All you can do is hope you got here in time and that everything goes okay.

**

The drive back to your apartment sure is different in John’s fancy car. You don’t really want to drive it more than you have to and just stop by quickly to pack a small bag with your medicine, some clean clothes, and your old laptop. 

You leave John’s suit jacket on the back of a kitchen chair. You like that there's something of his at your place. 

Back at John’s house it’s quiet. Not too quiet though. It’s peaceful here. The dog is plenty company and you nap in his bed just because if you didn’t, he’d probably know and never let you hear the end of it. It really is the best bed you’ve ever slept in. Never mind the fact it smells like John, the pillows are soft and the sheets expensive. Definitely not from Target, like your own.

The kitchen is spacious, but you don’t cook anything except some toast to go with your bowl of cereal. You do eat the rest of John’s fruit though, and remind yourself to stop at the store so he has some fresh food in the house when he gets home. The only thing you feel slightly guilty about is taking advantage of the amazing bathtub adjacent to his bedroom. He only has some shaving cream, soap, and shampoo so you don’t think you’re completely invading his space, but it still feels weird. 

The view really is fantastic and you drink coffee, just staring out the window for the longest time. You look over to the lake and think about that day. You can’t see the picnic table where you first met John and for that, you are grateful. You still know it’s there though, but what matters is that you are on a completely different side of it now. You think about living here and how things could be. The fantasy is quite compelling, but that’s really all it is. It’s fun to think about though.

You get anxious for John to be out of surgery and you can’t stop looking at your phone. To keep occupied you walk around his living room a few times, noticing something new each round. The old books on the coffee table, the candles in the corner, and Pooch’s toys here and there. You half expect to find piles of picture frames, but they’re gone. There are a few photos of Pooch on the refrigerator door, but that’s it. The house could easily be considered cold and empty, but somehow it’s not. 

You finally get a call that John is doing well and ready to go home. He’s pale when you enter his recovery room and you immediately go to his side. 

“Hey, you feeling better?”

“Mmm.” He mumbles, still sleepy from the drugs. “Good as new.”

“Are you ready to go home?”

He nods, his eyes blinking slowly and you listen as the nurse explains that he’s lucky he got here when he did because his appendix didn’t rupture and just had to be removed. John needs to rest, he can’t get the incision sight wet or dirty, drink a lot of fluids, and he can’t lift anything over ten pounds. You get the prescription for his pain pills and she leaves you to go get a wheelchair. 

You go downstairs to get the car and John sleeps the whole way home. 

Getting him in bed should be interesting, but he’s more stable than you thought he’d be. You don’t try the stairs though and instead put him on the couch, covering him up with a blanket and putting the dog outside for some quiet. 

“Do you need anything?” You ask, sitting on the edge of the couch and you rub his shoulder a little. 

“Just you, here with me. Thanks for staying.”

“Duh, I’m happy to.” You smile, and it’s so true. You owe John a million debts in favors and this is just the start. “I’m gonna run and get some food and your pain pills, okay? You’re just going to sleep for awhile.”

“You’ll come back?”

“I promise I’ll be right back.”

He takes your hand from his shoulder and kisses the back of it, pressing his warm lips to your skin. You would have gotten a flutter of butterflies, but he promptly falls asleep and you doubt he’ll even remember the gesture.

You let the dog back in and calm him down before you leave so John has company if he wakes up. The trip to the store is fast and you’re glad you had already packed a bag so you don’t have to stop at your place. It feels weird driving your own car again, but you can’t bring yourself to drive John’s now that you don’t need to, but the memory behind the wheel will always be there.

It’s starting to get dark when you arrive back at his house and you peek in the living room to see if he’s up. He’s petting Pooch and sitting with a pillow behind his back. 

“Hey, how’re you feeling?”

“I’m okay.”

You leave the bags of groceries on the counter, not being able to resist going to him. “You know, he came to wake me up last night.”

John looks surprised. “Really?”

“Yep, he saved you.”

“No,” John laughs softly. “You saved me. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you weren’t here.”

“Drive yourself to the hospital?” You guess and he shrugs. Yeah, he would have. You point to his stomach and you can see the bandage through his white shirt. “You’re gonna have a scar.” 

“Yes, another one.” He sighs, but it’s not sad. It’s just a fact.

“Are you hungry? You must be. How about some soup?” You get up from the couch and pat Pooch on the head. John grabs your hand to keep you there. 

“Seriously, thank you.”

You roll your eyes and smile. “You would’ve done the same for me, right?” 

Ah, that seems to get at him, finally. He scoffs and lets your hand go. “Okay, you’re right. It is weird accepting help after all this time.”

“Told you.” You poke at his beard, where you think there’s a hidden dimple and head to the kitchen. “And it feels good to help you, so I get where you were coming from.” 

“Good.” He struggles to get up and you go back to his side. 

“What’re you doing?”

He holds his stomach and uses the couch to help him stand. “I have to use the restroom.”

“Oh,” You help him walk slowly down the hallway and the more he walks, the more balanced he becomes. You leave him to do his thing and turn on the stovetop, dumping the premade soup you had bought in a pot and turn the oven on to warm some bread. The kitchen is so nice and everything seems to be brand new, shiny stainless steel. 

John makes it to the kitchen all by himself and goes to the counter to sit down. You want to tell him he should probably go lay on the couch, but his color is coming back and he looks more awake.

“This is not how I planned the rest of our night going.” 

That makes you perk up. “And what exactly were you planning?”

“Well, not a trip to the hospital. Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”

You shake your head and pull out a chair to sit by him. “I got my shifts covered for the next few days. Consider me your nurse, Mr. Wick.”

First shock and then heat crosses his face. “Are you sure? I feel terrible… but not enough to send you away.”

You laugh and get up to find some bowls. “It’s absolutely fine. I have a ton of vacation hours I didn’t even know I had. And all the high school kids want more hours before school starts. I can work on the schedules from my computer, so you have nothing to worry about.”

His eyes track your every movement, even when you open wrong drawers or cabinets, he never corrects you. He’s letting you find your own way and just watches you thoughtfully. “I’m gonna take you on a real vacation.” It almost sounds threatening. 

Smiling, you don’t say anything as you pour the soup and gather warm bread in a basket. “Bon appetit.” You tell him sarcastically. Grocery store soup is not the best, but it’s all you could come up with at the last minute.  He doesn’t eat a lot anyway and is quickly full after just a few bites. You bet he’ll be wanting some more food in a while, but all the drugs are still in his gut. 

He watches as you clean up, the same look in his eyes while you were making dinner, like he can’t believe you’re still here. You let him observe and do your own thing, getting Pooch some dinner too, fresh water and letting him out while you rinse off the dishes and put the rest of the groceries away. 

When you’re all done, you turn to him and ask if he wants to go to bed. 

“I think I’m gonna take a shower first.” He says, “I feel gross.”

“John, you can’t do that, remember?” You tell him, opening the glass door for Pooch to come back in for the night. “You can’t get your bandage wet.”

He groans in frustration. “Great.”

You lean over and pretend to smell his armpit. “You do stink,” and he instantly smells himself, glaring at you when he realizes you’re joking.

With the most pitiful look, he pouts. “Help?”

“What’d you want me to do? Give you a sponge bath?”

His spirit lifts and you haven’t seen him smile like this since yesterday. “Are you offering?”

You lean against the counter and stare at him. “Are you serious?”

“I think my appendix bursting is the best thing that ever happened to me.” He slowly gets off the chair and starts to head upstairs. 

“It didn’t burst!” You call out after him and start to turn out all the lights. You consider grabbing your overnight bag you had put in the living room. You can’t imagine not sleeping in the same room as John. What if he needed something? You get it and jog up the stairs. You find John in his bathroom, sitting on the closed toilet seat, waiting for you. “It did not burst.” You repeat, having a feeling that John is acting like this just to get attention but you doubt you’ll never know for sure. 

He pouts some more. “It felt like it did.”

“Ugh, fine. But I’m going into nurse mode, so no funny business.” You’re stern but you really have no idea what the hell you’re talking about. You decide to just pretend you do and go to his closet to get a bunch of towels. You lean into the shower and grab the soap and shampoo, then start the water in the sink to get it warm. He’s watching you here too, but his gaze is less intense and softer than you have ever seen before. “This might hurt, take your time.” You help him slowly take his shirt off, trying not to jostle his side, and throw it to the floor. 

Your breath catches in your lungs. This is the first time you’ve seen him up close without a shirt and the scars littered across his chest are in all different shapes and forms, some faded almost white while others still pink and fresh. You’re relieved when you see that they’re all closed up at least, and healing. You wonder if he stitched them himself or if he had help. 

He watches while you take in your fill and you get embarrassed. “I’m sorry,”

“It’s fine, I got to see most of you last night.” He teases. “This is only fair.”

Now you’re embarrassed for an entirely different reason and you can feel the burn on your cheeks. “I didn’t think you’d remember that.”

He smirks and blushes too. “I definitely remember.”

“Shut up,” You tell him, with no force and you grab a washcloth to get it wet and soapy. “Okay, you can probably do your front by yourself?”

He seems disappointed but takes the towel from you, quickly rubbing over his chest and arms, up his neck and face. You give him a fresh cloth with just warm water so he can wash the suds away. Motioning for him to turn sideways on the seat, you slide your fingers through his hair. “Do you want me to wash it?” 

“Mm.. maybe tomorrow?” His head is bent down and he seems to be almost swaying at your touch. 

You get the soapy towel from him and start on his shoulders, letting the water drip down his tattoos. “What does it mean?” You ask, tracing the ink, not being able to help yourself.

“Fortune favors the brave.” He answers and pauses. “I got it while I was in the Marines.”

That explains a lot. You notice the two crosses, the large one on his back and the other on his shoulder. You think back to the first day you met him, asking if he was religious and he didn’t answer you. The tattoos only add mystery and you don’t want to press him anymore, but it’s hard to look away. They’re captivating and your interest only increases when you start to count all the scars carved into his skin here too. 

You have to take a deep breath to get it together and quickly finish up. He probably thinks you're crazy for staring so long. 

“Do you want to put on a clean shirt?” You hand the wash cloth back to him so he can do whatever he needs on his lower body while you step out. 

“No, just some clean shorts. They’re in the top drawer.” 

You try not to look at his underwear and grab the first pair you see, then hand them to him. He hesitates before asking, “Can you sleep in the bed? Like we did at your place?”

“Yeah, of course.”  You see his shoulders relax as soon as you agree and he smiles. “I’ll get changed out here. You finish up and I’ll tuck you in.”

He’s beaming now, but you can see he’s starting to get tired. “Best nurse ever.”

You shut the door and get into your pajamas, another tank top but shorts this time, and pull back the covers. Pooch is sprawled out on his bed and you try to think of anything else you need before you lay down too. Crap. Quickly, you go back downstairs to get some water and his pain pills. When you get back, John is sliding under the sheets in just a pair of black boxer briefs. 

You don’t let the sight get to your head and set the glass by John, handing him a pill after. “Take this.”

He stares at it blankly and then smiles at you. “I’d rather have a kiss to make it feel better.”

That does get to your head and you're dizzy with affection. You don’t know how much longer you can keep up this game of cat and mouse with him. “Take it and we’ll see.”

Eagerly, the pill is swallowed and you crawl into bed, scooting close to where John lays very still. He looks very pleased with himself and you roll your eyes before gently kissing him on the forehead.

“There.” 

“I feel like my injury deserves at least two.” His voice is low and deliberate, but he’s teasing. You sigh, pretending to be annoyed, and give him a loud, smacking kiss on the cheek, right above his beard.

“Happy?”

He nods once and with reflexes you’re surprised are so fast, grabs your arm before you scoot away from him. “Thank you for staying.”

You put your head on his pillow, your nose rubbing against his shoulder back and forth. Carefully, you place your hand on his stomach above the bandage. “Does it hurt?”

He puts a hand on top of yours. “Less than a bullet, more than being stabbed.”

You grin against his skin. “Ah, I totally understand.”

“What are you going to go to school for?”

“Hmm?”

“You’re still taking classes in the fall, right?” He waits for you to nod. “Well what for?”

You hadn’t really given it much thought, knowing you’d have to take prerequisite courses before a decision had to be made at the community college. “I don’t know yet. Maybe business… why?”

“I was just thinking…” He turns his head to look at you. “You would make a really good nurse.”

You giggle softly and pull yourself away to turn off the light. “John, I can’t stand the sight of blood.”

“Oh…” 

The light switches off and you start to get comfortable. John pulls you towards him again and this time you protest. 

“I’m gonna bump you in the middle of the night.”

He doesn’t let go. “No, you won’t. It’ll make me feel better.”

The bed is big enough, but you lay next to him, planning to move away once the pill kicks in and he passes out. He surprises you though, by lifting his arm and scooping you even closer so you’re completely pressed into his side with his hand trailing down your back. 

“Sometimes I bleed a lot…”

It’s dark and you can’t see his face, but his body is really warm. “What?”

“After working… I’m usually bleeding somewhere.”

“Sounds like you need to get better at your job.”

“Haha.”

“John?”

“Hmm?”

“If you bleed on me, I will puke all over you.”

He yawns and presses his mouth to your forehead. “I can’t stand the sight of puke.”

You try not to because he’s falling asleep, but the irony makes you laugh. This would never work.

**

The next day you let John sleep while you make bagels and peanut butter. You cut up an apple too and decided on tea instead of coffee, which you’re sure he’ll be mad about. 

You’re right. He is grumpy and until you offer to wash his hair, he’s frowning the whole morning. 

You find a stool in his office and make him lean his head back in the bathroom sink. You play with his hair longer than you had planned, but seeing the blissed out look on his face is worth it. Your fingers really start to massage his scalp until he lets out a little moan, his lips parted and suddenly he opens his eyes. You notice again what a soft brown they are. 

“You’re doing this on purpose.”

Nails gently scratching at his neck, you stop and start to squeeze up the back of his head. “What’re you talking about?”

“You’re going to have to stop.”

“Why?”

“Because… it’s starting to feel too good.”

Immediately you freeze and don’t dare look at his lap. “Oh! Oh… sorry… that’s not what I was trying to do. At all.”

“I know.”

You rinse his hair and twist a towel around, just like you do for yourself after a shower. “Feel better now?”

Right away, John takes the towel and pats his hair dry, going to sit on his bed. “Yes, thank you.”

“Well, I think I’ll take Pooch out for awhile and then head home.”

He looks up, startled. “What? Why?” “Why what?”

“You’re not staying?”

“John, you need to rest. You should just sleep and watch TV all day.”

“Yeah, but… do you have to work?”

You shake your head and sit on the bed too. “No, not until tomorrow.”

He starts to smile at that. “So, you can spend one more night?”

You give him a look. “You were fine last night, you slept like a log.”

His face falls again with concern. “Did I snore? Did you not sleep? Were you not comfortable?”

“No, I was fine.” You were more than fine. You woke up cuddled into John while he was still sleeping and you let the fantasy run through your mind for a while, probably more than you should have, and now he wants you to stay. It’s becoming a little intense and then you brilliantly decided to wash his hair, which was probably torture for the both of you. You need a mental break. You need some space. “I’ll stay if you promise to rest, how about that?”

“I'll do whatever you want.”

You walk over to the big window in the bedroom and look out to the view again. Maybe you can walk to the campus and see about what classes you should take. It would only take about fifteen minutes to get there. Or you could take Pooch to the lake. When you look out the west side of the window you can see a ton of people already unpacking their cars and sailboats are leaving the dock. When you tell John what your plans are he frowns. “What’s wrong?”

He presses his hand to his side, above the stitches and his shoulders slump too. “I just… I wanted to do those things with you. You should go, of course. I just wish I could too.”

“It looks too hot out for all that.” You change your mind when you see how sad he is. You couldn’t possibly go now. An image of the both of you holding hands and taking a walk around the lake floats through your thoughts. “I’m just gonna take him out front and throw the ball around, and then I have some work to do.”

John breathes out and leans back on a pillow. He’s starting to get tired again. “Okay.”

“Do you want to go downstairs? Read? Watch some TV?” He doesn’t say anything and grabs a remote from his bed stand. What you thought was an armoire is actually a stand for a TV when the doors slide open. “Well, that’s convenient. Do you need anything else?”

“No, I’m good.” He mumbles, his eyes starting to blink slowly. You watch as his head falls a little and you cover him up with a spare blanket, shutting the TV off and closing the blinds before you leave. 

It actually is really hot outside and Pooch is panting as he brings you back the yellow tennis ball for the fifth time. He stops at a noise and takes down the driveway, running fast and you call out but he ignores you. You try to yell his name in a more alpha voice, like John does but that doesn’t do anything except make you feel like an idiot. When you get to the shrubs at the front of John’s property you see a young girl on her bicycle, talking to Pooch and petting his head.

“Hi?” You greet and think this must be the neighbor girl who watched the dog while John was staying at your place. “Are you Cassey?”

She smiles up at you shyly, shielding the sun from her eyes. “Yeah! Can Pooch play with me?”

You laugh and tell her just for a few minutes. It’s hot and it’s time for his lunch. She seems fine with that and gets off her pink bike. “Are you John’s new friend?”

You’re surprised that she knows who you are. “Yes, I guess that’s me.”

She giggles as Pooch attacks her with kisses, his weight making her sit in the yard and she screams in delight. It’s a really cute scene. Cassey has brown pigtails and a shirt with a sparkly rainbow on it. Pooch suddenly turns towards you, running at full speed and all you can do is sit in the grass too, until he gets his fill of more kisses before he darts back to Cassey, running circles between the two of you and wagging his tail. 

“Do you like it when Pooch visits?” You ask, standing up and brushing green stains from your jeans. 

“Yeah! We have so much fun! Dad will take us to the lake and he chases all the ducks around!”

You gasp. “Your dad chases ducks?!”

“No, silly.” Cassey laughs and rolls around on her stomach. “Pooch does!”

“Ohh, right.” You start to walk up towards the house and the mailbox catches your eye. Doing a good deed for the day, you empty it and take the stack with you. “Well, we have to get back. It was nice meeting you, Cassey. Have a fun day!”

“Bye!” Cassey kisses Pooch on the head one more time before getting her bicycle. The dog runs after you and almost crashes into the door. You can’t help but giggle a little to yourself and he plops down in the middle of the kitchen, panting and drooling. 

Sitting on the couch, you freeze in place and listen as John gets up and uses the bathroom upstairs. You hope you didn’t wake him. You toss the mail on the coffee table and boot up your old laptop so you can make the next schedule for work. Technically, you could wait until you go in tomorrow but at least you’ll have a head start. A few hours must pass and you’re so involved with numbers and spreadsheets, you don’t even notice John is walking down the stairs, barefoot and still in his pajamas. 

“Morning.” He mumbles and gingerly lays on the couch, his feet nudging your thigh.

“It’s like…” You look at your watch. “Shit, it’s already three! You must be starving. I can’t believe you slept that long.”

There’s a low rumbling sound and you realize it’s your own stomach growling. Instead of laughing, John quickly gets his phone out and orders food. 

“Pizza will be here in thirty.” He tells you, shifting so he can see you better, his arm draped along the back of the couch. He rubs at his eyes and wakes himself up, then runs his hand through his hair. 

Thankfully, you get distracted by your computer again until he pokes you with his toe. It makes you smile, but you still don’t pay him much attention. “What’s up? Do you feel better?”

“Yes, I feel a lot better.”

“Good,  ‘we heal in our sleep’ is what my grandma always told me.” You pat his foot, then see a mistake you made on Sam’s schedule and move to fix it. 

“What’re you working on?” 

You close the computer and finally look towards him. “Just a schedule for work.”

“What’s that?”

“My laptop.”

“What century was it made in?”

You push his foot away. “Very funny.”

He’s watching you again, with a small amused smile, like he’s making some kind of list in his head. “What else did you do today?”

“Oh! I met Cassey and she played with Pooch for a little while. I got your mail.” You point to the stack on the table. “And then I guess I got caught up in work.”

John looks at the envelopes and stretches his neck to see Pooch laying on the kitchen floor.  “Thank you.”

“It’s no problem.” You grin and put the computer on the table, settling in by John’s legs and leaning your elbow across his shins. “I’m glad you’re feeling better. Tomorrow you go for a check up and they’ll take that bandage off.”

“No more sponge baths?” 

“I don’t know,” You tease lightly. “Never say never.”

Shock makes his mouth hang open. “Seriously?” “Yeah, I mean what if you get shot again? Or get stabbed?” You tsk at him, but still smiling. “You really need to work on being a better assassin.”

John moves to sit up, and you think he’s mad but he clears his throat and gives you a stare, his hair falling in his eyes. “I’ll have you know, I’m excellent.”

“Mmhm.” You touch his shirt with your fingers, knowing exactly where the scars are on his skin. “Says who?”

“All the dead people I’ve killed.” 

That makes you scrunch your nose in distaste and he just smiles, leaning over to take the mail in his lap.

“What was the hardest job you’ve ever had?”

John stops looking through the pile of envelopes and raises an eyebrow. 

“What? I’m curious.”

“The sight of blood will make you puke, but you want to hear about that?”

“That bad?”

“Let’s just say I’d rather ease you into one of those stories. Ask me something else.”

“Hmm.” You put your feet up on the coffee table and think. “Do you mainly use a gun or a knife?”

He laughs. “You are in a curious mood.”

“It’s more interesting than doing schedules.” Your foot nudges your computer and John takes the stack of mail again, and nonchalantly answers your question.

“Yeah, mostly guns and knives. Anything I guess… a book, a pencil, a car… mostly my bare hands.”

He says it all like it’s nothing, like he’s telling you a grocery list. You stare at his hands as he rips open paper. Wow. That’s oddly hot and gross at the same time. He’s not paying attention so you closely watch his long fingers and wide palms, and you imagine them handling a gun… then handling you. John suddenly leans back and sighs loudly, a large card in his lap.

It snaps you back into reality. “What’s that? It looks like a wedding invitation.”

He nods and tells you it is. “My friend, Marcus… he’s getting married.”

“Is he an assassin friend?”

John seems to be stuck in his own head and he’s just staring at the swirly gold print.“Yeah, he’s mostly a sniper though.”

“Interesting. Have you met his fiance?”

“No… we don’t usually get involved in each other's lives too much.”

“Why?” You grab the pretty card and glance at it.

“It just…” John looks at you with sad eyes. “Complicates things.”

“Well, I think it’s nice he invited you. You should go.”

“By myself? I don’t think so.”

“Why not?”

He takes the card back from you and throws it on the coffee table. “Just not my thing.”

The door buzzes with the pizza and John tells you it’s all paid for. It smells amazing and you set it on the kitchen counter, then grab some cans of soda from the fridge. You’d love to finish the wine from yesterday, but not while John is on pain pills. Pooch stirs and finally gets up, probably hungry too so you grab his bowl and fill it while John slowly gets himself to a seat. 

He finally has an appetite since his surgery and eats half by himself. You’re hungry too, so you don’t talk too much, but you can see his mood is improving by his small, shy smiles. You realize he must’ve been hungry all day and that’s why he was grumpy. You should have known. 

“What? You’re looking at me funny.”

“Nothing,” But you can’t help to smirk, figuring John out is fun. “Hey, how about I go with you?”

“Go where?”

“To the wedding. I can be your plus one.” You instantly regret the words and cringe at your own stupidity.  “Uh, I mean… if you don’t already have someone to go--”

“I don’t!” John interrupts before you can take inviting yourself back. “I’d love it if you came with me.”

“Really? Are you sure?” The plates need to be cleared and you get up, gathering napkins and dishes. You have a better understanding of where everything is in the kitchen now. “I mean, I don’t know if you want me meeting your friends…”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

You look down at your jeans with grass stains and wrinkled tank top. Your hair is in a messy bun. You feel very plain. “I just don’t think I’d fit in.”

John is confused. “Because you’re not an assassin?”

Ugh. How can guys be so dense sometimes. “No… look, remember how out of your league I am? I just don’t want your friends to think you’re with some loser or make fun of you or something. But I guess if they know we’re just friends it wouldn’t matter. Obviously we would never be together, they would know that… right?” By the time you’re done your cheeks are on fire.

John doesn’t say anything and grabs a cookie from the plate you left on the counter. You go to the fridge and get the milk you bought and one glass, setting it in front of him. You break a cookie in half and dunk it in the cup, and John does the same. When he speaks, it comes out quietly. “I’m disappointed.”

It’s like a punch in the gut. “I know, I’m sorry. I wish I could be fancier… like when you wear your suits, I just don’t--”

“No… no.” He stops and leans on the counter, not meeting your eyes at first. “I’m not disappointed in you. I don’t think I ever could be.” His eyes lift, gaze intense. “I’m disappointed in myself.”

Now you’re confused. “Why would you be?” 

“Because all this time I thought I was doing a good job of showing you how special I think you are.”

“Oh…”

His hair falls in his eyes and his long fingers push it back. “I guess I need to do a better job.”

“No.” You try for a smile, but it’s a weak attempt. For a distraction you start to clean up the counter. “That’s not the way it works. I have to know that on my own. I shouldn’t have to have a man tell me I’m special for me to believe it.” You stop cleaning to rub at your forehead. All this growth can be so frustrating. “My thinking is so damaged.”

“You’re not damaged.” John says. “I just wish you could see what I see.”

You ignore his comment. “Maybe you should bring a date to the wedding. Like, a lady who would actually look good with you.” Who wouldn’t be embarrassing, or plain, or work at the gas station. 

He gives you a very disapproving look. 

“John, I’m sure you know a ton of attractive women who would die to go out with you. It shouldn’t be that hard to find someone.”

He sighs and gets up to let Pooch out. “The only woman I’m interested in going to that wedding with is standing in my kitchen. So, you’re right. It shouldn't be that hard.” 

You bite at your lip, torn of what to do. Maybe you’ll ask your therapist for her advice at your next appointment. So, you’ll tell him that. Kind of. “How about I think about it, okay? I promise that I will.”

John smiles, and you think he knows what a big step it would be if you were to go with him. He lets Pooch back in and locks the door. 

It’s early, but both of you are tired. John needs all the rest he can get and your adrenaline is finally fading. You turn out all the lights and he reaches for your hand, but you hold on to his elbow instead. “Bed?”

“Bed.” He leads you up the stairs slowly and gets washed up. You take your makeup bag and go to the guest room to do the same. The tub is the size of your entire apartment and you’re bitter that no one is enjoying this immaculate room. 

The both of you meet in bed, but this time you keep your distance a little. You can tell he washed his chest because his skin is damp. He exhales loudly as he relaxes and you grab the remote control.

“So fancy…” You murmur when he shows you which button to press and the cabinet doors slide open.

“Functional.” John corrects you. He scoots down to put his head on his pillow and somehow he’s magically closer to you. It’s a slick move. He spreads his legs under the blankets and his foot lightly touches your shin. When you don’t shy away and pretend to focus on the TV, John moves his foot slowly down your leg and wiggles his toes against yours. 

“Are you comfortable?” He asks.

“Very. Are you?”

“You’re so far away.”

Laughing, you turn towards him. “I’m literally right here.”

He blinks slowly, watching you. 

“What?”

“I like having you in my bed.”

You play dumb. “I know, right? It’s so comfortable. I feel bad making you sleep in mine.”

“Wasn’t bad at all.”

“Yeah?” You lean up to turn the light off and now it’s a lot darker, with just the glare from the screen flooding the room. “You could move in with me, ya know? I’ll show you how the simple people live.” You’re teasing but the shock on his face is priceless. “What’s that look for? You can’t imagine being without your extravagant bathtub?”

“No, I’m just wondering if your apartment allows dogs.”

You’re completely dumbfounded and you try to punch his shoulder, but those reflexes get you again and suddenly you're pulled in the crook of his neck, his arm draped over you again like the night before. You lay your head on his shoulder and it’s so comfortable, you briefly forget this isn’t what should be happening, but then you can’t bring yourself to care enough and move. 

“Cuddling with a patient is very unprofessional of a nurse.” 

John squeezes you hard. “It’s a good thing you’re not a nurse.”

You smile, closing your eyes and you should be sad that this is definitely the last sleepover. But you just have a feeling it won’t be. 

**

“So… then after that we woke up and I took him to his doctor appointment, even though he probably could have gone himself, and then he took me out to breakfast. And then I went home and took a nap before work.”

Beth, your therapist, is smiling at you. “Wow, that’s quite a few days you had.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“What would you say is the part that sticks out the most?”

You think for a minute and shift the pillow behind your back. The office is hotter today and she has a fan blowing in the corner, plus the window open. She’s sitting across from you and in the short time you’ve known her, it’s hard to believe how she can already read you and how gentle she directs you into different ways of thinking, silently challenging and almost making you wonder if you’re coming up with your own ideas. This is the first time you haven’t cried at a session, but it’s only half way over so there’s still plenty of time. 

“I don’t know. Maybe that I was able to get John up and to the hospital pretty calmly. I mean, I was nervous but I still did it.”

She nods. “Exactly right. If you were put in the same situation, maybe a few months ago… how would you have handled it?”

“Hmm...  well, I doubt I’d be somewhere like John’s house but if I were at work or something? I probably would have froze and let someone else take over.”

“Do you think a part of yourself is starting to have trust in your capabilities?”

The thought makes you feel the prick of tears at your eyes. You haven’t trusted yourself in a long time. Every choice, every thought was essentially wrong and you would turn to grandma. Her word became your world, whether you knew it or not. She made all the decisions and you were fine having her do it for the both of you. It was just easier and then it became a habit to let her lead your life. You were too young to know you were even letting it happen, and at the time it was what you needed, but now you have to learn how to live on your own.

“I still second guess myself all the time. And that can be exhausting… but I’m trying.”

“What if you didn’t second guess yourself? What if you allowed yourself to make mistakes along the way?”

“What if I make a mistake and lose John?”

“Okay, well what if you don’t make a mistake and lose John anyway? What if something happens and it doesn’t work out, by no mistake of your own. It just wasn’t a good match. What would that mean?”

You look out the window and frown. “It would mean that I’d still be okay. By myself. I can take care of myself.”  You would really miss him though, and just the thought breaks your heart. The ache is exactly why you’ve been keeping your distance. The fear of rejection is much easier to deal with than a shattered heart. Right now, it’s the fear of losing his friendship that is overwhelming. “But… he’s the only friend I have. What if… what if my appendix burst or something, and he wasn’t around anymore. I don’t know what I would do.” 

Beth smiles and her voice is soft. “Let’s say that happens. What would you do?”

“I don’t know who I would call. I don’t have any other friends.”

“You don’t think Carla or Sam would help you?”

“Maybe, but I’d hate to bother them.”

She tilts her head, confused. “Why do you think they would be bothered by you asking for help?”

It makes you think about what John had asked you the other night. If you would have helped him and you didn’t hesitate. If Carla or Sam needed you, you’d be there for them too. Maybe you’re not such a burden. Grandma often didn’t let you ask for anything. She would figure it out for you or you’d go without. “I don’t know.”

“It’s okay. It’s something we can work on. But, I think they would both be very kind to you if you did need their help. And remember, you can always call 911 if it’s an emergency.”

You look down at your hands sheepishly. “Right, of course.”

“Good.” She says, pushing up her glasses and sipping her coffee. “Now can we talk about the wedding?”

“Okay.”

“I want you to close your eyes and envision you and John at the wedding.”

The thought makes you smile. 

“And now think of the worst possible thing that could happen.”

Your smile instantly fades. 

“What happened?”

“John and I were dancing and I tripped and fell into the cake.” You feel silly, but Beth is nodding to validate it.

“Okay, good. Let’s talk about it. Do you think if you had a plan in place for that not to happen, that you would consider going?”

You shrug. “Maybe.”

“Well, let’s try it. Let's say you do fall and trip into the cake. What would happen?”

“Everyone would laugh. I would embarrass John. I would ruin someone’s wedding day.”

“Those are possibilities. What made you trip in the first place?”

You close your eyes and think about the image of shoes in your head. “My heel got caught on something.”

“And what’s something that would prevent that from happening?” 

“Um… I could wear flat shoes? Something I’m more comfortable in.”

“Yes! Perfect! What else?”

“Hmm... I’m not sure.”

She nods, encouraging as always. “That’s okay. Soon this type of thinking will become easier. What if you saw where the cake table was set up and you danced on the other side of the room?”

“That’s a good idea.”

“Keep your eyes closed. I want you to put yourself in John’s place, or maybe even the bride and the groom. And they just saw one of their guests' trip. What do you think they would do?”

“Probably want to make sure she’s okay.”

“Are they laughing? Are they mad?”

“No.” You open your eyes and breathe. “Do you think I should go?”

“I think you should give yourself permission to go, if you want. It might feel like it’s too soon for something so out of your element, but that’s entirely up for you to decide.”

You look at the clock and it’s time to leave already. You have a lot to think about, but in a very different way that you’re used to.

**

Sam just left to go home and change for this pool party he’s been talking nonstop about for days. You already miss his excited chatter and now it’s quiet in the store. You’re mopping up the floor after someone dropped a bottle of juice and the toilet was clogged when you got here, but thankfully that’s been fixed. It’s going to be a really long day. 

There’s a pile of applications you need to read through, and you’ve been dreading the task for a week now, but Carla really wants you to hire more help. The stack is huge and daunting, but you sit behind the counter and get ready to tackle it just as the door jingles. 

You don’t look up and assume the customer will come to you when they’re ready. A cup of coffee, your favorite kind, is set right in front of you and now you can see John’s tall figure as he approaches.

The coffee smells amazing and you can’t hold back a smile. “What’s this for?”

“Nothing.” He replies easily. “Just wanted to stop in and say hi.”

You’ve never had this before. Never had a friend who would ask how your day was and after you tell him about the toilet, the juice, and the applications he would suddenly stop by so effortlessly. It really means a lot to you. You’re beaming and John has to tear his eyes away, otherwise you feel like he’d stare at you forever. 

“Well hey, thank you.” You come around the counter and tug at his shirt for him to come closer. “Can I give you a sticky hug?”

He laughs and bends down to fit in your arms. When you’re about to pull away, he grabs you closer and smells your neck, his nose sensually running down your throat. You flush and squeeze his arms as you move away from his touch. 

“Was it orange juice?”

“What?” “You smell like orange juice.”

“Oh! Yeah. Yeah it was.” You smell your own hair and it does smell like citrus. Perfect. “Well, how are you feeling? You were supposed to see the doctor today, right?”

“Yes, apparently I’m a fast healer. I told him I had a very good nurse taking excellent care of me.”

You roll your eyes and take the coffee, taking a big drink. “I hope you didn’t say that. You sound like a pervert.”

John laughs and takes the coffee from you, taking a small sip for himself and then handing it back. “That was a very G-rated few nights and I’m a pervert?”

“I guess I am the one who did flash you.” You pull back your coffee when John reaches for it again.  “God, I was the pervert all this time!” 

“Don’t be so dramatic.” He frowns when you protect your coffee and gets distracted by the memory, looking briefly at your chest before he catches himself and looks away. 

You smile when you see pink on his cheeks. “What’re you up to tonight?”

He leans on the counter and pretends to look at all the lottery tickets. “I have to get ready for that job soon.”

“John…” You’re troubled and worried. “You can’t take that job. You just had surgery.”

He shrugs. “I have to. I don’t have a choice.”

“But you’ll get hurt, you’ll pull your stitches out and lord knows what else.”

“Yeah, that’s probably true.” He doesn’t seem upset at all. 

“Well… can’t you postpone it? Or tell them to get someone else?”

John has a small smile when he finally meets your eyes. “I appreciate that you’re worried about me, but that’s not how it works. It’s just for one night and I’ll be back… and you can take care of me again.” He tries to joke but you’re not laughing. He reaches to rub your arm up and down. “C’mon, it really will be fine, okay?”

“No. Not okay.” You are not happy. Those stitches are still fresh and you can’t imagine the pain he’ll be in, not after what you saw the night he had to go to the hospital. 

He sighs and he’s still rubbing your elbow with his thumb. “Well, what do you want me to do?”

You shrug and sulk, crossing your arms over your chest. “I hate seeing you get hurt.”

“It’s my job, remember?”

You inwardly cringe at that because the last thing you want to do is make him feel even worse about his job. The least you could do is be a supportive friend… about killing people. It’s still strange to think about. “Yeah, okay.” You admit defeat. “I just wish there was a way I could help. Or be there or something.”

“Do you want to come with me?”

You raise your eyebrow. “To San Francisco?” 

“No, the target moved. He’s actually in the city now. I’ll be at a hotel while I do business. You could stay there if you want and see that I’m okay when I come back. You’d be perfectly safe.”

You grab the schedule and remember that Sam wanted another shift, so you took an extra day off. It's scary, but you want to say yes. “Are you sure I won’t be distracting you or anything?”

John tucks his black hair behind his ear and shoots you an unbelievable grin. “I don’t mind your distractions.”

You’re highly suspicious that he’d get sick of your distractions sooner or later. “Can I be your assassin secretary?”

“No.”

“Can I order room service?”

“Yes, that you can do as many times as you like.”

“Alright fine, I guess I’ll go.” You act bored of it but you’re really nervous and have no idea what to expect. John tells you that he’ll pick you up at your apartment in a few days and bring clothes or whatever else you want. 

You follow him out the door and thank him again for the coffee. “I still can’t figure out how you know this is my favorite.”

“You were drinking it at the laundromat that one time.” John explains. “It was the first time I saw you with an ounce of happiness. So I went to the place and asked what you ordered.” 

Your mouth falls open. “You did that?”

He gets his keys out and turns to look at you. “Yeah.”

“But you would do that for anyone? Not just me?”

John doesn’t say anything, but smirks as he walks away, leaving you to watch as he goes. You wave to him when he drives away and try not to overthink everything that just happened. 

TBC Chapter 4

[queenofimagines]

Touch

Request: “can i get a peter parker soulmate x reader in which they rescue her from hydra and she's distant from peter then bucky shows up and they're all buddy buddy touchy feely cause they were in hydra together and peters all jealous cause why isn't she that way with me I'm her soul mate even though really she wants to open up to him but is nervous and stuff and bucky is the supportive best friend and happy ending”

Warnings: None

Notes: I KNOW I’VE BEEN GONE FOR A WHILE BUT THIS TURNED OUT REALLY LONG SO MAYBE THAT MAKES UP FOR IT???

The little mark on your wrist used to bring you comfort. Once, a long time ago, in the darkness of some cell that Hydra had stuck you in, the thought that somewhere, someone was waiting for you, that someone wanted you for more than just your powers shed a little bit of light to your life. For a long time it was just you in that cell with nothing but a bed and a steel toilet in the corner, the only contact you ever really had was with the guards that would always drag you towards something unpleasant. They would probe and examine and torture you in the name of science, all so they could one day use you for something you were sure you didn’t want to be apart of.

You came from a long line of empaths, but not particularly powerful ones. The ability to feel others’ emotions in and of itself was seen by many as a rather useless power, but your family had used it to help as many as you could, finding their ways into professions in which knowing what another was feeling was vital. The powers each individual person had varied slightly, for example, your mother could feel others’ emotions while your father could feel the physical pain that others experienced. Many others in your family didn’t have two parents with powers, so it was understandable that as the only one born of two empaths you were among the strongest of your line. You were able to not only feel other people’s emotions and physical ailings, but you were able to heal others; to take away their pain or inflict happiness if need be. For this reason, HYDRA had targeted you, wanting to use you as their own personal interrogator.

You could still remember the day they took you. It had been a quiet Friday night and, as usual, you and your family were getting ready for your weekly movie night. You were all huddled onto the couch, arguing over what you were to watch when there was a harsh knock on the door.

“Did you invite one of your friends over?” Your dad asked, already beginning to stand.

“No, did you?” You asked, looking at your mother.

“No, I didn’t. Who would be here so late anyway?” Your mom asked. There was another knock at the door, this time louder and much more impatient.

“I should open the door before they break it down,” Your dad laughed.

“Can’t we just leave them be? They’re interrupting out long awaited movie night and we didn’t get to have one last week because of that emergency that you were called in for.” You argued.

“Honey, maybe they’re in trouble. Whoever is at the door is feeling really anxious.” Your mom responded. Your father nodded, moving to open the door.

Oh how you wished you’d argued harder.

The next thing you heard was a gunshot and a thud, then men in what looked to be black combat gear crashed through the various windows of the room while more came filing in through the door. Your mother immediately pushed you behind her, attempting to protect you from whoever had just invaded your home, but you were surrounded, so it wasn’t hard for one of the men to grab you from behind. You clung to your mother as hard as you could, screaming and crying and hoping that by whatever miracle you would both come out of this unscathed, but another man had grabbed ahold of your mother and roughly yanked her back, not even hesitating before breaking her neck. The scream you let out was guttural and ugly, had it not been for the incredible pain and anger you felt in your chest, you wouldn’t have thought it came from you. You fought against the man behind you, grabbing onto his head and extending your anger onto him, manifesting it into physical pain. He quickly collapsed, holding his head as if it were going to explode. You were able to fight off a couple of others the same way before they were able to grab ahold of your arms and secure them in glove like cuffs. You didn’t stop fighting, though, kicking as hard as you could at anyone you could reach, but they were quick to hit you, causing your vision to become blurry and your head to become hazy. The last thing you saw before you passed out was the sight of your fathers body, bleeding out on the ground from his head where they shot him as they dragged you out the door.

Ever since that day, HYDRA had studied you, exploiting your powers and forcing you to become stronger. For a while you resisted, fighting until you were beaten to a pulp by the many guards that always accompanied you. When HYDRA realized that violence wouldn’t work, they employed a new strategy, seeing the opportunity to use an already trained soldier to control you.

When Bucky was unfrozen again there was nothing new. He had been under HYDRA’s control for so long that the routine of coming out of the ice was so familiar that it was basically second nature. What was surprising, however, was the girl that greeted him in his cell. She was scared, he could tell, but there wasn’t much he could do to make himself seem smaller or to make her feel more comfortable, and besides, having just come out of the ice his brain was too foggy to comprehend much and he was much to scared of the same tortures they always subjected him to, so he very slowly shuffled to the awaiting cot that looked like it hadn’t been slept in and slowly sat down.

You stared at the strange man, wondering why he was with you, but you could tell he was scared, or at the very least just as uncomfortable as you were. You slowly moved towards him, watching as he grew more tense the closer you came. You gently laid your hand on his arm, a slew of emotions instantly rolling through you: pain, grief, longing. You knew he was in the same boat as you, probably stolen away from his own family.

“Hi,” You smiled as best you could, “I’m Y/N”

From that moment on, you and Bucky had been each other’s support systems, always there for each other when you had endured your respective torments. When some of the higher ups noticed the bond you two had formed, they decided to move onto the next phase of their plan. They began to use you and Bucky to control the other, threatening to hurt you if Bucky didn’t comply and vice versa.

When Bucky was finally rescued, he fought to bring you back, and he did, four months later. In those four months you had been punished for Bucky’s apparent failure, they interrogated you 24/7 until they realized they wouldn’t get anything from you, whether they believed you or not when you told them you didn’t know anything, you were unsure.

Coming back to life was an adjustment, to say the least. Bucky was a blessing to you, he helped you make your way back to a normal life, even becoming your legal guardian when you wanted to attend school again. Bucky was hesitant to let you go but you had insisted that the best way for you to get back to normal was by acting as normal as possible, so after having passed all the tests, he enrolled you into Midtown School of Science and Technology. His choice in the school was no accident, Bucky knew that Peter attended Midtown and tasked him with keeping an eye out for you. It didn’t take long for you and Peter to become friends and took even less time for you both to realize that you were soulmates. Bucky had threatened Peter when he found out, making sure that he wouldn’t break your heart, but he was secretly happy that Peter was your soulmate instead of some random boy he didn’t know.

You were over the moon when you found out that you and Peter were soulmates. You had been in love with the boy since you met him and knowing that he was actually meant for you absolutely blew your mind. More than that, though, Peter had been so kind to you and you couldn’t even put into words how grateful you were for him, so you showed your affection as best you could. You remembered details about him that others would usually forget: how he liked his coffee, his favorite snacks, the exact way he took his sandwich from Delmar’s. You were completely unaware of the fact that Peter was a physically affectionate person, and even more oblivious to the fact that you seemed to have an aversion to physical contact. After all that HYDRA had put you threw, you really shouldn’t have been surprised, but you also didn’t see any harm in avoiding touch for the time being.

Peter had noticed how you never touched him. You seemed fine when he held your hand or held you close, but you were never the one to initiate it. You were never leaned up to kiss him or hug him or cuddle with him and he understood why but he was still a little hurt, especially when he saw you immediately embrace Bucky after he came back from his mission. What Peter didn’t know was that every time Bucky went out on a mission you drove yourself into the ground with worry. He was basically the only family you had left, losing him would be like reliving the day HYDRA took you. You had made Bucky promise to keep most of your time together under wraps, only telling people what they needed to know and nothing more, so even if Peter knew that you had a rough past, he didn’t truly understand what it was like.

“What’s wrong?” You asked. Peter had been huffy and passive all day, tipping you off right away. When you asked, he recalled your earlier actions. Peter had woken up before you, quietly eating breakfast with the rest of the avengers before you sleepily walked into the common area. You passed him, barely sparing a glance, in order to sit by Bucky. Bucky instantly wrapped an arm around you, quietly asking you how you slept and pulling you into his side.

“Nothing.” He said, curtly.

“Peter, talk to me.”

“I just...” He looked at you, not wanting to continue, but when he saw your bright eyes and reassuring smile, he knew he couldn’t just not say something. “Why do you hug Bucky and not me?”

You looked away from him, unconsciously rubbing the mark on your wrist, a nervous habit you picked up as a child.

“Did I do something? Are you... not in love with me anymore?” He asked. He knew you were soulmates but it wasn’t uncommon for soulmates to temporarily fall out of love before they were able to grow into the people they were meant to be.

“What? No! No Peter that’s not it!”

“Then what is it?”

“I... Peter while I was with HYDRA Bucky was the only one there for me. I lost everything and Bucky helped me heal, he’s the only family I have left. Every time Bucky goes on missions I’m absolutely terrified that I’ll lose him like I lost my parents, so with him I guess it’s just natural. I’m sorry that I made you feel uncertain about things.”

Peter didn’t feel the need to say anything, instead, he pulled you into a tight hug, assuring you that you had nothing to apologize for. You spent the rest of the day glued to Peter’s side, becoming slightly more affectionate as the day went on, but not forcing yourself to do anything you were uncomfortable with.

When dinner time came you sat next to Peter, completely engrossed in the story he was telling you about something stupid that Flash did during the debate teams last meeting. Bucky watched you from afar, happy that you were finally growing out of your shell and proud of the happy person you had become.

[nighthaikyuu]

can’t | 03 | i.hajime x reader x o. tooru

pairing: iwaizumi hajime + best-friend! reader + oikawa tooru

word count: 3.5k 

genre: angst, fluff, friends-to-lovers! au

warnings: none

parts: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | tbc

As the crowd erupted in cheer, your lips parted in awe as your mind replayed the scene that happened just seconds before you. The score was 22-24 and Aoba Johsai was at match point against Date Tech. As Oikawa set the ball up to Iwaizumi, your eyes widened as you saw Date Tech’s three-person block. However, the second your eyes fell back on Iwaizumi you noticed the flash of realization on his face, and within seconds you watched as he shot the ball right through Date Tech’s setter’s hands.

As the rest of the members crowded Iwaizumi, Maki and Mattsun messing the boy’s hair, you were sitting on the bench beside the coaches, your face beaming with pride as you cheered loudly for the team.

Just then, Iwaizumi’s eyes met yours, and before you could think, you flashed him a wide grin and gave him two thumbs up, yelling his name in unison with the student section.

Blinking in surprise, you watched as the corners of Iwaizumi’s lips twitched, before erupting into an embarrassed smile. Pulling his hand up to scratch the back of his neck, he chuckled before swatting away his team members who were also cheering his name.

However, he couldn’t help but steal a glance at you every now and then. The way you smiled brightened your entire face, your cheeks flush with excitement as he saw you talk in the most animated ways to some of the other members. Your eyes were twinkling like stars, despite being only under the dingy gym lighting.

Walking over to the bench where you and the coaches had been sitting, Iwaizumi tried listening to his coach’s words and congratulations however all he could remain focused on was you. Once the coach had dismissed the team, you quickly ran up to him and Oikawa and threw yourself into their arms, both boys stumbling back slightly as they caught you.

“You guys did so well! Oh my god! When Tooru did that one set and then you, Hajime! That last spike! Amazing!” you gushed excitedly as you looked up at both of them.

Laughing in amusement, Oikawa grinned, “You’re damn right about Iwa-chan. Guess I gotta step up my game. After all, we’re playing Karasuno next.”

The three of you turned to look up at the stands where the Karasuno Volleyball Team had been sitting. Making eye-contact with their setter, who you knew was your junior, Kageyama from Kitagawa First, you saw Oikawa’s gaze narrow before his smile tightened, “We will go to finals and beat Shiratorizawa.” 

Stifling a laugh, you rolled your eyes in amusement as you saw both Oikawa and Kageyama fighting over the volleyball which had rolled over to your side of the court during warm-ups. 

“Is he really a third year?” Hanamaki sighed, making you chuckle in response. 

Eyes falling back on Oikawa, you could feel the burning desire to win radiating off of him like an uncontrollable flame; ever since you had known Oikawa, you knew just how important volleyball was to him. It wasn’t just another sport. Just another high-school club. 

It was what made him the person who he was. 

With that, you knew how much it takes a toll on him too. The number of times you stayed behind to watch over him, brought him food and drinks, or had the boys come over to drag him out of the gym, were countless.

While Oikawa played with a sort of elegant arrogance, every move he had executed had been practiced millions of times before. Even the way Aoba Johsai quickly adjusts to a team is a feat they have done so many times, it has become a strategy that is second nature. 

As the sound of the whistle filled the air, it was time to begin. 

Karasuno vs Aoba Johsai. 

With a sharp intake of breath, you felt every single muscle in your body freeze. 

Your eyes slowly widened, as you watched the ball bounce off of Oikawa’s hand, the entire court going silent. 

“No...” you whispered weakly as your eyes remained glued to the ball as it finally stopped bouncing and laid still, outside of the court lines. 

And just like that, with the sound of the point-declaring whistle, the gymnasium erupted in loud cheers. 

Karasuno won. 

26-24. 

Your hands began trembling at your sides, as you couldn’t find the strength within you to lift your head up. Tears began pricking the corners of your eyes as several pairs of shoes filled your blurry vision. Feeling the coach beside you stand up, you followed in-suite, forcing yourself to look up and face your team. 

The team who just played their last game this year. The team who wouldn’t go to finals this year. The team whose third years would never play for again. 

As the coach began to speak, you could barely hear the words he was saying as your eyes painfully gazed over the boys you had come to grow and love after all these years of being their manager. 

But then you heard his words, the words that managed to shatter all of your hearts. 

“You all fought well.”

Biting down on your lip, the tears you tried so hard to hold in streamed down your cheeks as you heard the soft cries of the members envelop you. 

After the game had ended, you had all gone to the local Chinese restaurant as Coach Irihata’s last treat for the year; instead of heading home after like most of the members, the third years and you made your way back to Aoba Johsai. You stood by the side of the court as you watched all the third years run to the gym, and within seconds their jackets were off, and there they were, playing each other as they yelled, joked, and smiled. Together. 

All for the last time. 

As the night quickly fell, you and the rest of the third years began cleaning up in case someone were to drop by when Oikawa walked up to all of you. 

“Guys, do you have a second?”

Tensing up at the tone of his voice, you turned around slowly as your lips parted at the expression that clouded Oikawa’s face. 

Hanamaki beside you stiffened as he quickly turned around to face him, the rest of the members following in suit, “Oikawa, don’t do it! We’re trying to end this on a good note—!”

“Shut up!” Oikawa yelled as you watched his lips tremble, “Thank you for the last three years!” he cried aloud, chest heaving as soft sobs slowly racked through his body. 

“Tooru...” you whimpered softly as you averted your gaze to the floor, the tears falling rapidly down your cheeks and onto the gym floor beneath you. You could hear the third years around you all sniffle, some sobbing loudly while others cried silently. But nevertheless, you all felt the same emotions as you stood there for the last time, beneath the dull white gym lights where they played volleyball and you watched. 

“Tooru?” you called softly as you propped open the gym doors, peeking through to look inside. Sitting in the middle of the gym, you saw his Oikawa’s head lift up slightly at the sound of your voice. As you made your way towards him, your footsteps echoing loudly in the relatively empty gym, you saw him turn around to look up at you.

One look at him was enough to feel your heart shatter for the nth time that night. 

His eyes rounded slightly as they stared up at you, red and watery, his cheeks tear-stained and flushed. He looked broken. The usual spark of determination in his eyes was gone, replaced with emptiness. 

Sitting down next to him, you found yourself reaching towards his hands that hung loosely by his side. Looking up, Oikawa stared silently at you for a while before he began to chew on his bottom lip, his eyes welling up with tears. You watched as he took in a shaky breath, before swiping the back of his hand over his damp cheeks.  

Turning back to look at the ground beneath him, he chuckled humorlessly, “I’m pathetic, aren’t I?” 

“Tooru—!”

“I just—” he shook his head, “—I can’t believe we lost. We all played so well but in the end, we didn’t even get to p-play Shiratorizawa. We didn’t even get the chance.” he whispered weakly, his voice cracking with every word as tears streamed down his cheeks. 

Moving towards him, you pulled him gently into your arms as his head fell into the crook of your neck. Holding him tightly, you bit down on your own lip to prevent yourself from crying. As gut-wrenching sobs tore through Oikawa’s chest, you rubbed his back in hopeful reassurance. 

The two of you sat like that for a while, your hands running softly through his hair as you continued to murmur soft words of reassurance while Oikawa clutched your jacket tightly, his tears staining your shoulder as he took comfort within the warmth you gave him. 

However, you weren’t alone. 

Iwaizumi stood outside, his eyes gazing painfully through the gym door that was cracked open, revealing the intimate scene before him. Turning around, Iwazumi fell against the wall beside him as he let out a shaky breath, his hands tightening into fists at his side. 

Bringing his hands up to his face, he groaned softly into them. 

He felt so conflicted. 

While Oikawa’s happiness meant everything, the pain and jealously that grew with every passing second of seeing you, watching as you loved him, watching as you grew tired of him, and watching you slowly fall for Oikawa, was enough to kill him. 

Running up the stairs to the club room, you fished the keys out of your pocket before quickly unlocking the door. A couple days ago, you had noticed a keychain missing from your backpack and after looking for it in numerous places, you realized you hadn’t checked the lockers in the club room at all. And if you didn’t go get it today, you might never be able to get it again. 

After all, it was the keychain that Iwaizumi gave you for your birthday. 

Stepping inside, you made your way towards your locker and began changing the dials to match your passcode. Just as you heard the click, the door behind you swung open as it slammed the wall behind it, the sound echoing through the empty room. 

Jumping in place, you yelped as you suddenly turned around, “Tooru, I said I’d be down in a second—!” 

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Going still, you stood there staring at the figure who stood by the door frame, a sudden chill running up your spine. 

“Hajime? I thought you left—” 

“I asked you a question.” 

Taken aback at the coldness in his voice, you looked at him slightly confused before your lips tilted downwards into a frown, “Excuse me?”

Running his hands through his already messy hair, Iwaizumi cocked his head towards the gym, “Tooru. I know what you’re doing and you better stop.” 

At that, you crossed your arms across your chest, your eyes narrowing at him, “What are you trying to say Hajime?”

“Don’t act all innocent Y/N.” he snapped as he leaned his arm on the wall, looking straight. “Don’t mess with Tooru, especially when you’re not serious about him,” he added in an accusatory tone, his words like bullets piercing your already shattered heart. 

Blinking furiously, you stood there, unmoving, as you let his words process in your mind. Finally, you let out a harsh breath.

“How—” you started angrily, grappling for words as your fists tightened at your sides, a burning sensation form in the pit of your stomach, “—could you even say that?!”

Iwaizumi glared, eyes blazing at you, “I’ve seen enough of the way you’ve been acting to know what I’m saying Y/N.” As he stepped closer towards you, the door closing behind him with a thud! he added, his voice uncomfortably cold, “You know how he feels about you yet you treat him in a way that makes him think you like him too.” 

Scoffing in ridiculousness, you threw your hands up in the air, “Treat him like what!? His best-friend?! I have been doing my damn hardest to make sure I do nothing to lead him on while still being his best-friend—!!” 

“Bullshit Y/N!” he yelled, the sudden rise in his voice catching you off guard, your lips parting as the words on your tongue died. 

By now, you noticed that Iwaizumi had moved close enough that he was only an arm’s length away, close enough for you to see the way his chest rose with heavy breathes as he stared intently at you. 

“Stop making goddamn excuses Y/N, it's all fucking bullshit.” he seethed, his words harsh enough to cause tears to well up in your eyes. 

Glancing up at the ceiling in an attempt to keep the tears from falling, you finally let out a shaky breath as you whispered weakly, “Hajime, why are you doing this to me?” 

Ignoring your question, and the pang in his heart as he watched your eyes gloss over, he stared down at the floor, “Listen. If you mess around with Tooru again, I won’t let it go Y/N.” 

Several slow seconds passed between the two of you. You stood there, silent, unable to find something to say to retort back. Finally you turned around and grabbed the keychain from the locker, shoving it into your backpack before you made your way towards the door. Walking past him, your hands momentarily halted at the doorknob, fingers barely grazing it before you rasped, “You have no right Hajime.” Shaking your head, the tears streamed down your cheek when you repeated, “You have no fucking right.”

Just when you started to pull the door open, you felt a hand grab your wrist. The cold touch of his fingertips on your skin sent a shock up your body, but you  quickly jerked your hand away, turning around to face him as you shot him a sickened look, “Don’t.”

Iwaizumi stared at you as a look of confusion clouded his face, his brows knitted together before a soft sigh escaped his lips, “Y/N, wait—” 

“How could you Hajime?” you whispered weakly, sniffing. You quickly swiped your cheeks with the back of your hand before taking in a deep breath, trying your hardest to control your hands that were shaking at your sides. 

“What—?”

He watched as your expression hardened, when you said slowly, “What makes you think you can tell me what to do after everything you have done to me? Huh? After all the shit you put me through!” 

Letting out a humorless chuckle, you felt a lump form in your throat as you thought of the last couple months. The rollercoaster of emotions your poor heart had endured, finding out he liked you just to reject you. And watching him within weeks, get over you. 

Gathering up all the strength you had, you lifted your head before staring dead straight at Iwaizumi, your gaze unwavering. Lifting your hand up, you jabbed a finger at his chest. 

“You were the one who decided to like me.”

“You were the one who rejected me even after I told you I liked you too.” 

Sniffing, you willed your hands to stop trembling as you jabbed him again, and again, the words spilling past your lips, all the feelings you had kept locked inside your heart now out in the open. 

“You were the one who decided to just completely ignore me, even when I tried my best to act like things were normal!” 

Accidentally blinking, the tears slipped past your eyes as you croaked, “You were the one who moved on.”

Iwaizumi stared down at you with wide eyes, a look of bewilderment spreading across his face, “Y/N, what do you mean—?” 

Iwaizumi slowly watched as your face contorted in pain, the sight making his heart ache within his chest. Wrapping a bundle of his shirt in your fists, your voice trembled, pain laced with each and every word, “How could you move on so fast? Did you even like me?” 

“Y/N, come on —” Iwaizumi trailed, sighing heavily, “You know that isn’t true, and that isn’t what we should be talking about anyways—” 

“Why shouldn’t we?!” you scoffed, “And don’t bullshit me!” you mocked, using the same words he had said to you just minutes ago.  

“What about Hina, huh? What about the all the girls you suddenly started paying attention to and talking to? Tooru said you never used to tolerate his fanbase and now suddenly you have one?” 

Laughing bitterly, your head hung low, “Guess I’m just pathetic, aren’t I?” Sighing softly, you felt the sudden exhaustion overwhelm you, the surge of strength that came just minutes ago disappearing. Iwaizumi watched as your forehead fell against his chest, your grip on his shirt only tightening as it remained your only way of keeping upright. 

Iwaizumi’s arms were frozen at his side. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t expect this at all. All he knew was the sudden rage of jealousy that ran through him when he saw you and Oikawa in the gym, and minutes later he found himself following you up to the clubroom, slamming the door open as words he never planned to say, rushed out. 

As he stood there, Iwaizumi looked down to see your trembling shoulders and instinctively, he lifted his arms to touch you when your next words had him going still. 

“What am I going to do Hajime?” you cried softly, “When I’m still so damn in love with you.” 

Iwaizumi took in a sharp breath. 

Feeling his heart thunder in his chest, he stared at you as you slowly removed yourself from him, your expression turning calmer than before, more melancholic and sad. As your watery eyes met his, for the first time that night Iwaizumi realized how close you were. 

“Y/N.”

You looked up at him, your eyes met his and it was like the world suddenly stopped. In the midst of the moment, you had failed to notice how close his face was to yours as you felt his heavy breaths fan your face. 

“Hajime.” you whispered softly, your heart suddenly racing when you saw his eyes glance down to the bottom of your face, right at your—

Suddenly your mind went blank. 

You couldn’t remember how it happened but within seconds, Iwaizumi’s lips were suddenly on yours, gentle and warm. It started out as a butterfly touch, afraid and uncertain; but soon, he pressed closer, deepening the kiss. You gasped as you were pushed against the door, feeling Iwaizumi’s tongue graze your bottom lip, asking for passage which you gave almost willingly; soon enough, you found yourself kissing him back with as much fervor. 

You felt dizzy, unable to think as you succumbed to his control. Iwaizumi wrapped his hand around your waist, pressing you even closer to his body while another caressed your face, your neck and down to your arms, his touch like a trail of fire that burned your skin. 

Suddenly, Iwaizumi pulled away with a gasp; his eyes opened in shock as he pushed himself away from you, as he stood there, panting. You stood there, legs trembling as you gripped the doorknob behind you. 

The distance was suffocating; a look of hurt flashed across your face and Iwaizumi almost wanted to pull you back into his arms, but as the thought of Oikawa appeared in his mind again, it made him stop. 

“H-Hajime—” you started, voice shaking when Iwaizumi held up a hand, his face drained of all color, “No, I—...T- This shouldn’t have happened.” 

Your lips parted as a sharp pain filled your chest. You watched as he looked away, his eyes now focused on the door behind you. 

“I-I have to go.” he said, walking towards the door. Moving to the side, you watched as he reached for the doorknob, gripping it tightly. He stood there for a couple seconds, when he suddenly turned to look at you, a conflicted look passing through his eyes. 

“I-I’m sorry Y/N, I really am.” he whispered, looking genuinely sincere before he swung the door open and slipped through it. 

Eyes fluttering close, your back fell against the wall. Sliding down, you sat on the floor as you brought your knees up to your chest, your heart beating erratically. Your trembling fingers flew to your swollen, red lips as you could still feeling the tingling sensation of Hajime’s lips against yours. 

And finally, the realization hit you like a ton of bricks.

H-He had kissed you. 

taglist: @dadchi-oya, @captain-janeway, @verbluehte, @kuroos-babie, @oikawa--1, @honeybacon, @simpforsaeko, @visaintes, @yams046, @voids-universe, @honeysempiternal 

 m.list | taglist

[fearfulkittenwrites]

Gala and “I’m allergic to bullshit.”

Word count: 2244

Link for it on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26180371

Notes: Hey! This was beta'd by @3ambird​ , who is an amazing sweetheart and improves evertything they touch. Thank you for the help!

Galas were never fun. Bruce had hated them as a kid, and hated them as teen, and he hates them as an adult. Still, he has to maintain appearances, so he always attends. And as his family grew, his kids were forced to attend as well.

Dick Grayson was particularly good at socializing. After he moved past his teenage rage, of course. He used to get in passive aggressive arguments with the rich CEOs and company owners all the time. He still does, but at least now he was good at it to the point where it almost couldn’t be recognized as an argument, instead of jumping on the necks of greedy millionaires that bought land out of poor people.

That was an interesting headline.

Jason sucked at galas. Soon enough, he figured out that if he started enough awkward conversations, people wouldn’t want to talk to him anymore. Especially the creepy single older women, pinching his cheeks and squeezing his biceps.

“Say, Claire, what’s your opinion on the alarming rate at which the bees are disappearing? They say that’s because of all the chemicals we put in our food.” He’d smile, carefully holding his glass. Bruce would struggle to hide his gasp, because Jason, that’s the owner of the highest earning pesticides company in the country.

“Well, Roger, I’m certain that the legalization of abortions would be a great thing, considering that now your mistresses won’t have to be sent overseas to terminate the unwanted preganancies you give them, right?” He’d say, and Bruce would nearly have a heart attack, because Jason, that’s the president of Gotham’s conservative party.

“Oh, you see, Sandra, I think that gay marriage should not only be legalized, but encouraged. If straight couples were to cease existing, then no more children would be born, and honestly, no one needs any more of those snotty gremlins running around, ruining perfectly good tapestry.” And Bruce would faint, because Jason, for God’s sake, that is the leader of the Gotham’s Motherhood Association.

Tim wasn’t all that bad. He could be social with a little effort, and he was far more used to galas than any of the other family members, having grown up attending them. Of course, all of that was only valid when he wasn’t sleep deprived, which, considering all he had on his plate, was roughly 32% of the time. When he was running on three hours of sleep and seven cups of caffeine a day, trying to finish a project, run his share of the Wayne Enterprises, and manage school work, he became a bit more irritable and impatient. And extremely impulsive. Which is mainly why Bruce asked Dick to stand by his brother through most of the night.

“We both know you’re his impulse control, Dick.” He said, adjusting his oldest son’s tie “Remember what happened the last time he was left unattended for fifteen minutes?”

“He got into an argument with a young Creationist and dunked his own head in an ice bowl after screaming ‘Fuck God! I can hear colors and dinosaurs rule!’” Dick sighed, “Yeah, I’ll keep an eye on him.”

Cass despised them, but Bruce insisted she should attend anyway. More often than not, she’d just stay at the table, tasting as many appetizers as the waiters would bring her, and shooting murderous looks at anyone who sneered at her. Bruce was relieved that at least she wasn’t cracking any bones.

Damian was... Better than Jason and worse than Dick. He had an unamused expression through most of the event, and would unceremoniously swat away any hands that tried to pinch his cheeks. Other than that, he wasn’t much trouble. The real trouble were galas all Wayne kids attended. The five of them could cause enough trouble when they were apart, together they were the embodiment of chaos.

And this was supposed to be a calm, slightly boring family evening. It really was.

But Bruce just had to bring all five of them.

Everything had to go just right. As they walked in through the red carpet, the media was eating up the image of the six Waynes dressed formally; Each of them had a tie color matching their hero uniform (a cheeky thing they enjoyed doing to play with the theorists minds), Dick had a dark blue one, Tim and Jason slightly varying tones of red, Damian had a green one and Bruce had a black one. Cass wore a long black dress that sparkled when it was hit by the light in just the right way.

The first sign was the reporter, who, while aggressively pointing a microphone in their faces, asked pushy questions about relationships and the like, nothing out of the ordinary, until he shoved it in Cass’ face and asked her if she could even speak. Jason almost broke the man’s nose. Bruce silently thanked God for Dick, who stepped in front of the man before that happened.

“Try some shit like that again pal, you’ll hear from our lawyers.” He led his sister inside, a protective hand on her back.

They calmed down. And Bruce still had hopes that this would be a quiet evening.

Looking back at it, he doesn’t know why.

Because as Dick and Cass were at the bar, ordering drinks, a woman stood next to them, trying to make small talk. Neither of them seemed too interested in her; she is a hassle at every gala, making weird advances on all of the boys. Today, however, she was a little more tipsy, and Bruce couldn’t quite make out what exactly the conversation was about, but Dick was clearly uncomfortable and Cass was fuming. The woman kept grabbing at him, sliding her hands over his tie, squeezing his arms. And then she squeezed his ass, and it took Cass less than a second to break her nose.

If they were any other family, Cass would have been thrown out of the party, but they were the Waynes, and you do not throw a Wayne out of a party. If she punched a middle-aged woman, then she punched a middle-aged woman. Bring her a glass of water and some ice for her injured hand.

Of course, it didn’t end there.

Bruce was still surprised he didn’t have gray hairs yet.

Because Damian had discovered and made friends with a stray cat in the garden, and Jason had a laser pointer, because of course Jason had a laser pointer, and the cat ended up knocking down not one, not two, but three expensive pieces of pottery, shattering them on the gravel floor. And when the house owner saw the damage, he turned pale and had to hold back his tears. Jason laughed.

“-tt-.” Damian stated, adjusting his suit “You owe that cat a favour,those vases ruined the garden’s aesthetic. Regardless, I’m sure father will be more than happy to compensate you for the damages.”

He walked back to the party slowly, passing by the man who would need some time to make it back.

Once Jason broke him the news, Bruce thought (and hoped) that that would be it.

But no, the night was young, and there was so much time left and the batsibilings for sure wouldn’t waste it.

The previous statement about sleep deprived Tim?

Well.

Tonight, he had to pick a fight with an essential-oil-loving, antivax mother. Simply because he liked to torture himself. And because nobody realised he was alone until Bruce spotted him in the crowd, eye twitching as a woman rambled about all the heavy metals and chemicals that vaccines had in them. He thought about getting to him, but he knew it was too late. There was no going back now.

“Well, you see Karen,” He started.

“Uuum, my name’s Patricia.” She interrupted.

“I’m a billionaire’s heir, I don’t give a shit.” He said “Anyways. As I was saying, the thing is, I’d rather take the chance of being injecting myself with mercury than, oh, I don’t know, get meningitis and fucking die?”

The circle went quiet. Another woman, wanting to dissipate the tension, tried to restart the conversation.

“I-I mean, I don’t understand why can’t they make something safer, right? Like, when we used to throw those smallpox parties, why won’t they make something that works like that? So that we can build a natural immunity instead of all of those chemicals.” She laughed awkwardly.

Tim slapped his own face so hard that it attracted a lot of eyes.

“How. Do. You. Think. Vaccines. Work. Susan?”

“M-my name is Mary.”

“I don’t give a fuck.” He answered. And just in time, Dick swooped in.

“Hey, Timmy!” He greeted “Can I borrow this guy for a second?” He didn’t wait for an answer as he guided Tim out to the garden.

“Fucking idiots.” He muttered “I don’t know how they have so much money. They’re all fucking idiots, Dick. I’m surrounded by dumbasses.”

“There, there.” He said “Okay, we’re far enough.” He looked around “Go ahead.”

And Tim let out the most horrendous, rage filled scream any of those guests had ever heard. Because of course they heard it. Bruce sighed and shrunk on his chair.

“Better?” Dick asked as he finished, patting his back.

“So much.” Tim answered.

“You should’ve slept a little before this.”

“No way. I’m totally fine.” He answered “I had three cans of monster before we left, so I feel great.” Dick raised an eyebrow, worried.

“Whatever you say, buddy.” He led him back inside, tidying up his brother’s hair “Just... No more picking fights with moms tonight, okay?”

And Bruce thought that was enough. Bruce was certain that this would be the last incident.

But his kids just loved proving him wrong.

He thought that the best strategy would be to ask them to stick together, so that Dick’s responsibility and social skills would keep his feral siblings under control. He should’ve known it would backfire.

The last he checked, they were making small talk with some CEOs on the edge of the room, away from the dance floor. Jason, Cass and Damian seemed completely bored, Tim was clenching his jaw for some reason, and Dick tried his best to look polished and polite.

“So, I heard that Wayne Enterprises have a new project?” One of them asked, chest so projected forwards it looked like it was about to explode.

“Yes. Yes we do.” Dick said, smiling politely “We’re opening up a refugee housing program.”

“Oh, so that’s what those buildings are for?”

“Yes, exactly!” He exclaimed, opening his arms in a seemingly natural manner “We are building apartments to shelter them. It’s nothing fancy, but we can charge a cheaper rent than most, and not charge at all for the first six months, giving them a chance to properly establish themselves here.”

“Well, I must say,” Puffed up chest guy stated, “I can’t see why not to give them to good old Americans instead. There’s a lot of homeless people nowadays, you see.” He leaned forward as he talked.

Damian perked his head up, but didn’t say anything. Cass and Jason seemed to be listening. Tim’s left eye twitched.

“Actually,” Tim started “The company has very stable, successful projects to help the homeless.”

“I’m familiar with those, yes.” He arrogantly dismissed the teen “But, you see, I just can’t understand why not open the housing to tax paying Americans instead of some...”

“Potential terrorists?” Damian suggested, arms crossed, scowl on his face.

“...Foreigners.” He completed.

“Well, since you ask, we are currently planning on the possibility of eventually opening vague apartments to Americans too.” Dick answered, swirling the liquid in his glass around “But the priority now really are the refugees.”

“I don’t see why can’t we prioritize our own people.” He insisted “I’m simply concerned for the well being of our poorest patriots.”

Dick blinked.

And here’s why Bruce should have known it would backfire.

Because, yes, Dick was able to cool them down...

But they were able to fire him up.

And so, like the charismatic man he was, he covered his nose a little, rubbing at the end, and faked a loud sneeze.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” He started “You see, I have this strange condition.” Dick stared at the man in the eye, the guy who had bought an old building people were squatting at, just to demolish it and doom them to the streets with no care or compensation, and, knowing this and so much more, said “I’m allergic to bullshit.”

And his siblings went feral again.

Tim and Jason screamed an ‘Oooooooooh!’, Damian pointed at the man and laughed loudly, and Cass snorted, covering her mouth in surprise.

Dick didn’t break eye contact as he drank the last of his champagne.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me,” He said “I have to go look for better company.” Dick left the empty glass at the nearest table and adjusted his suit, smiling “Have a nice evening.”

As he walked away, the gang followed close behind, all of them very excited about how Dick, the composed, calm, cool, polite and polished Dick Grayson-Wayne, had just burned a millionaire in front of his economic allies. As the party reached Bruce, the man once again seemed to sink into his chair. Dick sat next to him, radiating confidence and charm.

“Do I wanna know?” The man asked.

“No,” Dick answered, grinning but not looking at the man “No you don’t.”

[hopeless-nostalgiac]

with all appliances and means to boot: ncis/tiva fic

for this challenge, @loudlooks​ requested Tiva + "I didn't know you could do that." thank you for the inspiration!! *hugs*

set summer between S3-4 w/ team dynamics & tiva (a LOT of tiva—they took over the fic, basically, and I’m not sorry about it) 

also, this turned out like eight times longer than I expected & was the most fun and freeing thing I’ve worked on in years, so

enjoy:) 

FFN

“I didn’t know you could do that!” 

McGee’s voice filtered over news-chattering televisions, incessantly ringing phones, and chicken-clacking keyboards to reach Tony at his desk. 

“There was no reason to mention it earlier. It is not exactly a useful skill, my friend.” Ziva’s full-throated chuckles were wind chimes amidst the office drudgery.

Tony shook off the eruption of gooseflesh on his arms. It was way too early for that. And McGee was babbling again.

“I’ve just never met someone in real life who could do it.”

“Really?!”

A boom of shared laughter enveloped them.

Glancing at the digital read-out on his monitor, Tony silently cheered. 9:07. Totally busted. Then he pretended to be busy with paperwork, so his attention was occupied ahead of time. 

The agents’ conversation lowered until it faded completely, coinciding with their entrance into the squadroom.

Tony had that effect on them now. The tables, as the saying went, had turned. They were the class troublemakers to his super-strict teacher. They, the unruly cadets, and he, the veteran drill sergeant. They were Agents; he was Boss. 

“Agent McGee. Officer David. You’re late.” 

McGee froze while swinging around his desk. Ziva froze after dropping her gear. Tony continued to stare yet not see the file in front of him, but he didn’t need visual confirmation to know the teammates were exchanging glances, coordinating their plan of counterattack. 

“Well, technically we were in the building on time.” The opening lob courtesy of McGee. 

“Technically, that’s not good enough, McTardy.”

“It was when you were wearing our shoes.” 

Tony fought an eye roll. “You can’t throw me off the scent with a well-timed idiom blunder, Officer David.” 

“Can’t I, Tony?” Ziva’s voice was louder, closer to him. 

Out of his peripheral vision, he spied her leaning on the divider between their workspaces. So close now, he caught a whiff of her lavender mint shampoo as she flicked at a cascade of curls that had fallen over her shoulder. If this was their strategy, well, it wasn’t the worst angle. 

But Tony DiNozzo was better. 

“No, you can’t,” he reiterated, finally gracing each of them in turn with his steady gaze. Calm, yet intense. Everything rumbling beneath the surface. “And it’s Agent DiNozzo. Or Boss.” 

Ziva stared back, golden-brown eyes matching his intensity, but not the calm. She rattled off a string of heated Hebrew, ending with a sharp snap of her teeth before spinning around on her heel and dropping heavily into her desk chair.  

Crazy chick.

“So, anyway. Just to be clear: If you’re here after me, you’re late. Period.” Tony slapped a case folder closed, causing his desk to tremble; he could emphasize his words, too. “For today, you can make amends by telling me whatever it is McGee didn’t know Ziva could do. I’m thinking it involves lots of stretching, but if there’s a video game reference, leave it out. Go!” 

And like that, authority forfeited for curiosity. 

McGee did roll his eyes and muttered something that suspiciously sounded like waste of time under his breath. Ziva scoffed, typing noisily at her computer and decidedly not looking in Tony’s direction. 

“That’s an order.” Even he didn’t buy the command. 

9:10. The day was shot. 

. . . 

If someone asked Tony how his first weeks as leader of MCRT were going, he’d say, “Good, considering the circumstances,” with a flash of white teeth. He didn’t like to lose face, sure, but he was pretty confident it was the truth, too.

Because when your boss quit and ran off to Mexico, leaving you in charge of a team that for years affectionately regarded you as The Class Clown, the circumstances weren’t on your side and ‘good’ was the most you could hope for.

. . . 

“What did you do?” 

Passing through the automatic doors, Tony came up short—as much due to the always assaulting antiseptic stench as the accusation. “Why do you assume I did something wrong? Can’t I come see my favorite Autopsy Gremlin with no ulterior motive?” 

“Sure you can,” Palmer called from the freezer section, where he was sliding a corpse home. “But I already talked to Abby, who talked to McGee.” 

Fantastic.

“So before, with the ‘what did you do?’...that was kind of redundant, huh?”

“Guess so.” A dorky chortle escaped the assistant. “I mean, seriously, they were only late by a couple minutes, Tony. Sorry, Agent DiNozzo.” Another hiccup of laughter. 

Great. Just great. 

“Gee, I was hoping I could escape some of the ridicule down here....” Tony pressed his palms against the cold steel of an autopsy table, shoulders hunched, depositing weight into the defeated stance. All his course-correcting tactics, including buying his team lunch, had done little to reverse the morning’s death blow. McGee and Ziva were ignoring him aside for a lone campfire, and then their interactions were clipped—aggressively so where the ex-assassin was concerned. Now the damage was spreading to the sub-basement, it seemed. 

“Look on the bright side, you’re the team leader. It’s what you’ve always wanted, right?” Palmer mirrored Tony on the other end of the table, adjusting his glasses before adding, “This is a bump in the road, but no one ever achieved greatness without first overcoming resistance.” 

“That’s wise, Palmer. For a man who talks to the dead. You wouldn’t happen to know—”

“What McGee didn’t know Ziva could do?” 

Tony blinked. Maybe they’d been underestimating the Autopsy Gremlin all along. “Yeah. Know anything about it?” 

“It’s not a big deal. We were at the bar last night and first the waitress got Abby’s drink order mixed up, but it was super busy, so I suggested that—”

“Sometime today, Palmer.” 

“Well, it turns out Ziva can knot a cherry stem with her tongue, and then...” 

Oh, it was more wondrous than he’d guessed (and that list was long).

Palmer’s rambling dissolved to the background of Tony’s thoughts. He couldn’t get to the audacity of everyone going out for drinks without him because the dexterity of Ziva’s tongue was front and center. As he was recently familiarized with that very tongue and the talented mouth it resided in, it was all too easy to lose himself in a sexy daydream of the alleged feat.

Until he remembered how pissed she was at him. Bubble, burst. 

. . .

If someone asked Tony how his first weeks sleeping with Ziva, his former partner and current subordinate, were going, he’d say, “What? I’m not—we’re not—how dare—what?!” 

Because when your boss quit and ran off to Mexico, some of his rules haunted you. 

. . . 

“Rough day?”

Tony looked up right away. It was best not to play games with the director, who emerged stealthily in the dim, empty squadroom. He’d dismissed McGee and Ziva at regular quitting time, unable to make eye contact with either of them—for different reasons—but stayed behind to catch up on last week’s case reports. Him, voluntarily completing paperwork. 

Rough was an understatement.  

“I see my shortcomings are making the rounds.” 

Jenny’s smile was beautifitic, the one she wore during news interviews. “Don’t worry. I wasn’t seeking it out. I was speaking to Ducky on a separate matter, and he happened to mention talking with Mr. Palmer, who—”

“Got the scoop from Abby because McGee blabbed to her,” Tony finished, barely restrained. “Yeah, I’m well acquainted with the watercooler daisy chain.” 

It didn’t slip his notice that Ziva was the missing link. The text he’d started writing to her the second she disappeared through the elevator doors was unfinished and unsent on his phone. 

“Did you also hear they went for drinks after work without inviting me?” It came out as a whine.

Jenny didn’t mask her amusement. “Did you always invite Gibbs for drinks? No, because he was your boss and you were probably venting about him.”

Touché.

“I’m trying, ma’am.” This he intoned with every fiber of professionalism and sincerity he could summon in the moment. The problem was that this wasn’t his first mistake since taking over—wouldn’t be the last—but he was trying. He wanted that noted. Also, there was an insane learning curve, and yes, big shoes to fill. Could he be blamed for that?

The redhead stepped forward, switching her smile for an expression of...not quite pity. Understanding? “Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown, Agent DiNozzo.”

“Robin Hood: Men in Tights?” 

“Shakespeare.” Jenny chuckled, her fair eyes sparkling in the light of his desk lamp. Tony could see why Gibbs was once head-over-heels for her, back when they were partners. He knew something of those complicated emotions, of which the text draft on his phone contained damning evidence. 

“It’s the nature of being in charge,” she continued. “You’re going to have crappy days and plenty of nights when you can’t sleep. My advice, from experience? When you screw up, apologize and do better next time.”  

“Isn’t that a sign of weakness?” It was a reflex, after so many years. 

Jenny caught his eye and held it. “No. It’s a sign of respect.” 

. . .

He was sober when he showed up on her doorstep. Stopping off for some liquid courage briefly flitted through his brain, but flitted out just as quickly. McGee, he could buy a NutterButter, eat some humble pie himself. All would be cool again. Ziva was a different story. 

Namely, a story with a lot of sex in it, and it’d barely been a month yet. That he spent a large portion of the day envisioning her tongue doing erotic dances with a red cherry stem wasn’t helping. It also further convinced him of a brutal truth: Things were changing. Things had already changed. 

Ziva, outlined by the glow from inside the apartment, crossed her arms over a baggy workout t-shirt. Curls piled in a messy bun. It was Tuesday, kickboxing night. “If you are here for a booty call, you will be sorely disappointed.” Each word was wrapped in her delicious Israeli accent, momentarily distracting him from their sum meaning.

He’d expected as much.

“See, when you want to get them right…” Tony’s attempted humor and roguish smile failed to earn him leniency. 

“Goodnight, Boss.”

The door hurtled toward him, closing on his chance to repent—and more than that, his chance with her. His left hand flew up, catching the wood with a few inches to spare. 

“Hey, whoa. Wait. I’m here to apologize, all right?” Breath whooshed in and out of him; sweat beaded instantly on his forehead.  

Okay, so it wasn’t just about the sex. He was enamored with her, and it hadn’t been a full month yet.

Ziva yanked the door back, though the arrangement of her features maintained dubious feelings. She raised her eyebrows in a way that said, Yes, and?

“I was an idiot, Ziva.”

A corner of her delicate mouth pulsed. “Good start.”

The heaviness in his chest released. He dared another smile, softer-gentler this time, and the door stayed open. “I was too hard on you and McGee.”

“You will apologize to him as well, yes?”

“Yes. McSweetTooth will wet himself with glee, I’m sure of it.” Tony shuffled his feet, bringing him onto her brown doormat, never dropping her gaze. “But seriously, Ziva, I know I messed up, especially, you know...I mean, you should be able to call the guy you’re sleeping with by his first name, even if he’s your boss. That is,” he sheepishly tagged on, “if I’m still the guy you’re sleeping with, after today.”

For a bloated handful of seconds, Ziva froze, as she had that morning in the squadroom. Eyes like lasers, drilling through him. It lasted long enough for doubts to creep in. Then—

“Are you?”

So simple, but coupled with her head tilted to expose honeyed neck, her popped knee, and the slight part of her plumped lips, the challenge was clearly set for him. 

This would be fun. 

Tony launched over the doorway, literally sweeping Ziva off her feet as he plowed into the apartment. An honest-to-goodness squeal filled his ears, then that wind-chime laugh took over and his knees wobbled in their sockets—nevermind her 100-something pounds hanging on his torso. 

It was the first time he’d carried her this way—any way—but her arms and legs wrapped around his body with an ease he would have analyzed if not for the supple give of her breasts against his chest, or her frizzy hair tickling his chin. Her mouth alternated between whispering the dirtiest promises in his ear and nibbling on his neck. Thoughts would have to wait. 

How they shut the front door, how they maneuvered the hallway to her bedroom, how they undressed and (eventually) found the bed was a haze of details that didn’t matter. The shudder that coursed through her at his every touch, mattered. The inverted bridge her back made when his lips and tongue met her center, mattered. His name on a gasp, woven into a sigh, lifted to a shout...

In this area, Tony DiNozzo excelled. He was damn well going to prove it. 

. . . 

It took two rounds to sate her. The first go was part of the apology; the second was because he had a young, hot lover who could run eight miles at the crack of dawn, kickbox for an hour after work, and still have energetic sex with him—twice. Who wouldn’t take advantage of that? 

“Guess I got that booty call after all.” He love-tapped her ass, which was bare to the air. He braced for retaliation. 

None came.

Hair mussed and cheeks flushed, Ziva glanced over, fixing him in her line of sight. A smirk hiked up the side of her mouth not buried in the pillow. “As did I, Agent DiNozzo.”

“Never going to live that down, am I?”

“Give it a few months.” Her smirk widened as her eyelids drooped, each blink taking longer and longer to pull back up. 

. . .

They dozed together in the dark of her bedroom. They weren’t cuddlers, per se. Their connections left them too sensitive, sticky and unspooled. They stayed close, though. Touching random pieces of her to him, him to her. His head resting on her bicep curled closest to the mattress. Her ankle molded to the arch of his foot. Sometimes as conventional as their hands laid one atop the other, fingers loose. 

. . . 

He began talking while they ate cereal in the kitchen at quarter to eleven. He was talking as she cleaned and put away their dishes and led him to the front room, his body going where she steered and nudged. What he voiced was nothing new to either of them. All the same issues that overwhelmed him on a cool May night, that propelled him to Ziva’s door in what would become a habit. He was drowning; she was refuge. 

For that, and so many other reasons, he trusted her without question. 

Ziva allowed him to talk now because that was how he worked out problems. They both knew that, too. 

“I think it comes down to the fact that...I don’t know how to be a team leader that isn’t Gibbs.” The admission floated and settled on the sofa cushion between them. It wasn’t often they said his name anymore. The memory was sore to the touch. 

“We have been over this, yes?” Ziva tossed a leg across his lap, the other tucked beneath her. He immediately claimed the tanned skin of her thigh, rolling it under his hands. “This is a chance to be your type of leader, make your own rules.” 

“Every time I do that, it blows up in my face.”

“Not every time,” she corrected, her eyes darting to his lips and lingering. 

His heart rate ticked up. Very true. They might not have happened if Gibbs hadn’t left. But… “We’re one thing, Ziva. The team is another.”   

She turned his chin with her hand, locking his gaze with her steady and fervent stare. An imposing combination. “Tony, you either keep trying or you quit, just like Gibbs. What will it be?” 

It was Tony’s turn to sneak a not-so-subtle glance at her lips. When she put it like that, the answer was undebatable. What he’d told Jenny wasn’t a lie. And giving up wasn’t an option. 

Didn’t mean he’d hand her the win that easily. 

“How about we make a deal?” While his eyebrows waggled, his hands roamed farther than her thigh. “I persevere with the team leader thing. In exchange, you show off your fancy cherry stem tying prowess for me.” 

Her mouth gaped, eyes narrowing. “Who told you?”

“Palmer. The guy’s actually not a bad sounding board.” He’d have to remember that for future thorny cases. 

Ziva deflected, “I do not have any cherries in the fridge.”

Tony returned, “That wouldn’t stop a true parlor trick magician like yourself.”

Her face reformed in an expression that always intrigued him. A cat devising the perfect trap for her prey. It didn’t surprise him when she stretched her leg out, straddling his lap properly. He circled her low back, drawing her hips over him and generating a spark of friction. There was extra verve in her fingers burrowing the short hairs at his nape, tipping his head upwards. 

“You must really want me to—”

Ziva covered his lips with hers, swallowing his words as they melted to moans. Instead of continuing hot and heavy, everything slowed. Each kiss long and needy, a continuous caress. Her heady spice invaded his senses. The tip of her tongue slipped by his teeth, running the roof of his mouth before pushing in further.

Tony’s spine straightened at the sensation of tongue against tongue, the rough texture, the strokes and flicks. He gripped whatever part of her was in his reach, would likely leave marks. She didn’t flinch. She was all around him, practically tying him in a knot. 

It was exactly how he imagined it, but also superior.

He was smiling when they broke apart, breath imperative for them both. “Your ingenuity is an inspiration, Ms. David.” 

Ziva winked, leaning forward to kiss him again, a casual closed-lipped peck in the wake of such an intimate encounter. And he knew, no matter what came of leading the team, he wanted this—them—to survive. 

“Now you must honor your part of the deal, Tony.” 

“Whatever you say,” he agreed, flipping her onto the cushion and following her down for round three.

. . .

The next day, Tony waited at his car in the parking lot for his team to arrive. He walked into the building with them, and didn’t check the clock in the mornings ever again. 

He apologized to McGee, which just freaked out the newly-appointed Senior Field Agent. As Tony predicted, the Nutter Butter made all the difference. 

By the end of the week, he brought Special Agent Lee onto the team because there was symmetry in four and they needed a probie to act as a buffer. Plus, she was good at meeting case report deadlines and Tony wasn’t.

He doubled-up on campfires and went to Jenny for advice more often. Palmer, too. 

The team went out for drinks, occasionally inviting him to join. Occasionally not. 

A month later, he and Ziva started keeping their love in each other’s hearts along with spare clothes in one another’s dressers. Soon, there would be no sense hiding them anymore. 

And when someone asked Tony how leading his own team was going, he said, “Our results speak for themselves,” and meant it. 

Because when your boss quit and ran off to Mexico, leaving you in charge, you wore the crown and made it your own. 

fin

[flightfoot]

Dragon Falls Ch. 9

AO3

Kagami was testing out her gliding ability when it happened.

Gliding didn’t require as much wing movement - and thus not as much aggravation of her injury - as fully flying did, so it was a good way to monitor her recovery. The valley she’d fallen into when she’d first hurt her wing was an ideal testing ground, what with the shortness of its cliffs.

The first time went pretty well, some slight discomfort as she opened and then after landing, folded her wings, but that was it. They held her up well in the air.

She didn’t really NEED to do a second test.

...It’d been a week since she was in the air. She was doing a second test.

Her muscles tensed.

She sprang into the air, unfurled her wings, enjoyed the wind rushing past her wings.

Raid the humans

Startled, she couldn’t keep her wings steady, causing her to roll over and crash.

Luckily she was able to avoid landing on a wing joint and injuring herself further.

But she had greater concerns.

There was no more waiting. No more delay.

Her friends had better be done with their contraption. 

The Queen had spoken, and Kagami’s people had no choice but to obey.

She gauged the position of the sun. 

They still had a couple hours until sundown, when the attack would likely occur.

Since her people’s minds were dulled by the Queen, she had to execute strategy FOR them. Attacking at night was advantageous most of the time, with humans’ pitiful night vision. But the Queen’s call to attack had to take into account travel time, so she often called to attack a few hours before night fell.

Rolling briefly in the dirt to dull her scales (as much as she prided herself on her presentation, camouflage was more important right now. She didn’t need the flash of sunlight on her scales to give her away), she raced off to Berk to warn the others.

---------

Why did there have to be so many humans?!

Steps raced past.

She retreated into the shadow of a nearby house, hiding underneath some sort of wheeled contraption.

At least she was on the smaller end. If she’d been bigger this would have been far more difficult.

Giving the air a few sniffs, she raced off towards a certain house.

An awfully BIG house, as it happened. Bigger than any others she’d seen.

She shook herself, circling the building (well, as best she could without getting caught).

How to get inside? There weren’t any obvious entrances-

A rope hung down to the ground.

And above it-

An opening!

Far off the ground, and it’d be dangerous to try to fly through such a small opening anyway considering her wingspan (though if her wings were at full working capacity she could probably manage it, diving in and folding her wings at the last second).

But right now that wasn’t really an option.

She looked again at the rope.

Then a nearby tree.

Then back to the rope.

Hm…

Taking the rope in her mouth, she wrapped it around the tree, forcing the end of it back through the loop to create a knot.

Or at least she HOPED it was a knot. Damn humans with their damn hands and their ability to easily manipulate objects.

Holding a breath, she tested the rope.

It bent a little under her weight, but held.

Carefully, using her wings for balance, she walked the tightrope to Adrien’s bedroom window.

-------

Adrien unlocked the door to his home, closing it behind him.

It’d been a loooong day at Dragon Slaying training. He just wanted to lay down and collapse on his be-

Wait.

What was that?

“Uhhh…”

The rustling, banging noise came again.

Gripping his staff tightly, he inched closer, careful to duck behind cover.

More scrabbling.

More footsteps.

He tensed, rounded the corner-

“Adrien we have to prepare NOW!”

“AHHHH!”

He stumbled backwards into some furniture, knocked over a chair, collapsing in a heap on the ground.

He stared at her, heart hammering. “Ka-kagami?!”

She nodded. “The Queen has called. The raid will start. We must prepare.”

The Queen called…?

He frowned. “Are you okay? If you heard that call, her voice…”

They hadn’t known how effective her control would be at such a distance. Nightmares of Kagami’s pupils shrinking, her speech, her mind being stolen from her once again kept invading his sleep.

She shook her head. “I could feel it, but it had little power. It was just words, little else.”

He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. 

A smirk slowly spread across his face. “Then let’s go free the others.”

-------

“I haven’t gotten a chance to test it yet, though the prototypes worked well-”

Adrien nodded impatiently. “I guess we’ll have to test it now then. What better way than out on the field.”

“There are lots of better ways,” Max told him, adjusting his glasses. “But I see your point. We can’t afford to wait. Have you set up a way to retrieve the dragons?”

“Alix is doing her thing. She’s good at distracting people; hopefully she can redirect the rest of Berk away from what we’re doing. Alya, Kagami, and I will try to retrieve the dragons, keep them sedated until the Queen’s orders wear off.”

A booming craaaack ripped through the air.

Adrien and Max looked at each other, nodded, and wheeled the contraption out.

Fires burned, people yelled - but few right where they were. Alix did her job as a distraction well.

Taking aim, Adrien looked around, following the noises of the dragons.

It being dark out was a hindrance. He couldn’t see the dragons themselves well-

But he could see where they covered the stars. For where he could only see black.

Moving it from side to side, he looked carefully, gauged the trajectory-

And fired.

Once.

Twice.

And a third time, a tell-tale thump-screech ringing out in each instance.

He winced. 

He hated doing this, potentially hurting them, but… well… it was even LESS safe for them to be caught by the other Berkians, or to be around the Queen.

At least, he hoped it was safer here.

For several more tense minutes, he and Max looked around, trying to spot more dragons.

But no more appeared. They were either out of range or already on the ground.

Gradually the noise started dying down. The raid was ending.

He just hoped the others had done their parts.

--------

Slinking around the edges of the battles, Alya and Kagami tried to stay hidden.

Alix had been doing her best to keep the other Berkians attention away from the dragons falling from the sky, and for anyone else Kagami would assume that would be near impossible but… 

Well…

If anyone had told Alix that, she was pretty sure the girl would have flipped them off and then added in about three stunts along the way just to say ‘screw you’ to so-called “common sense” and “sanity”. 

Now she kinda wanted to tell her that just to see what absurdly impressive feats Alix could pull off…

She shook herself. No. Bad Kagami. She could egg Alix on later, when her people’s lives weren’t in jeopardy.

AFTER her people shook off their mind control, THEN they could try and see what kind of awesomeness they could pull off together. Especially with how her wings were healing. 

Once she could fly? All bets were off.

Though Alix wasn’t the one she most wanted to show the beauty of the skies…

A screech ripped through the air.

Kagami winced. She knew this wasn’t going to be pleasant, but it still clawed at her to hear one of her people in pain.

She’d heard it too many times over the years.

Alya looked at Kagami and nodded. Together they raced over to the first dragon.

---------

Kagami stared at the downed dragon.

He was a little bigger than her, being closer to four and a half feet long at the torso, though with a shorter tail, only maybe two feet long. The shell-like, domed structure of his back made him look bigger than he was.

People, humans or dragons, usually knew better than to try and attack a dragon of his type from above. The modified scales may have been less flexible than regular ones, but they were a hell of a lot tougher, and it wasn’t exactly like dragon scales were easy to break through even under normal conditions.

Not that many people would want to attack Nino. Between his easy-going, but determined demeanour, how hard he worked to reach out to others, to help them, he’d befriended most dragons he’d had the opportunity to talk with.

But now?

Now Nino snarled, pupils constricted, showing no emotions more complex than anger and fear.

That part of him, of his self, had been stolen from him.

She bit back a growl. It wouldn’t do any good. The one she felt like attacking wasn’t here.

“Do you have it?” She asked Alya.

“I’ve got it right here,” she moved to pull it out of her bag.

Kagami rapidly backed up.

But it smelled so good, so nice…

NO. THIS WAS NOT THE TIME.

Alya slowly approached Nino.

He snapped his teeth, hissing. 

But as she got closer and closer, the dragon nip held out in front of her like a talisman, his anger, his fear, his tension started dissipating.

His pupils widened slightly.

He leaned forward for a good sniff-

And gave a happy purring chirp before collapsing on the ground.

Kagami let out a sigh of relief, hearing Alya do the same.

Then looked at the situation and groaned.

“I’d really hoped we’d have to move a smaller dragon.”

--------

Dragging Nino took some work, but at last they got him into the woods. They’d need to carry him further in of course, but that could wait until they had more time. Right now they were on a clock.

Kagami fidgeted. It’d been several minutes since the last dragon was shot down. They shouldn’t be able to move much, but if a Berkian stumbled across them…

She shook her head. ‘What ifs’ wouldn’t help. Best to just work as fast as possible.

“You remember where the other dragons fell?” Alya panted, looking like she’d rather lay down and nap for an hour than drag a dragon around.

“Assuming they haven’t moved, yes.” Yet another way in which excellent hearing was an advantage; she could easily pinpoint where even a distant sound came from.

Now if only that hearing acuity wasn’t being commandeered for mind control…

She turned around, leading the way to the nearer dragon-

And froze.

She could smell dragon - admittedly, that also helped with locating - but that wasn’t all.

Her eyes narrowed. “We have company. Human company.”

Alya shot up. “Where?!”

Kagami didn’t answer, electing to race off towards the dragon - and the humans - instead.

There wasn’t a moment to waste.

--------

Four kids surrounded the dragon, holding their weapons uncertainly. 

A bit of tension left Kagami’s shoulders. The adults would probably have attacked already, but the kids? None of the people in Adrien’s class had ever killed, or even seriously injured a dragon before. And considering her experience with Adrien’s classmates so far…

“Back away from Juleka,” Kagami called out.

The four of them whipped around.

Their eyes widened.

“ALYA! LOOK OUT!” the short blond girl yelled.

Alya put up her hands. “Don’t worry, she isn’t a threat,” she told them. “And under normal circumstances, that dragon over there,” she pointed at Juleka, “wouldn’t be either.”

The four kids looked puzzled at that.

“She’s under mind control,” Kagami explained, “All the dragons who attacked Berk are. We’re working to incapacitate them long enough for the mind control to wear off, for my people to return to their senses.”

The kids stared.

Looked at Alya.

Then at Kagami.

And finally to Juleka, lying still, growling slightly.

The red-headed boy shrugged. “Okay.”

Kagami blinked. “Okay?” 

Admittedly it hadn’t been difficult to persuade any of the people she’d run into about the plight of her people, but that was still awfully quick.

“This dragon fell out of nowhere, the adults are nowhere to be seen, and now you, a talking dragon, are right here in front of us,” he explained. “At this point I’m ready to just go with it. I’ve been around Kim and Alix my whole life. This isn’t the strangest thing I’ve ever experienced.”

Kagami opened her mouth… then promptly shut it. Now was not the time.

“We need to get this Dragon nip close enough to Juleka for her to sniff. It’ll knock her out,” Alya told the blond girl.

The girl looked at Alya. Her lips thinned, pressing together into a straight line. “Not you.”

Alya blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You look exhausted. Let me do this.” Her tone brooked no argument.

Alya handed the Dragon nip over to the small girl. “Just… be careful Rose.”

Marching forward, Rose held the Dragon nip out in front of her, much like Alya had with Nino. Juleka growled, attempting to back up, seeming almost scared.

Rose’s expression softened. “It’s ok,” she murmured, “this’ll make you feel better. You don’t have to be scared or angry anymore.”

Kagami blinked. Was it her imagination, or did Juleka’s pupils actually widen slightly at that? And was she actually relaxing?

Juleka leaned forwards, her long neck straining to reach Rose. She sniffed delicately at the plant, relaxed completely- and passed out.

Rose stroked her head. Juleka purred in her sleep.

Kagami tore herself away from the (extremely adorable) sight. “Rose? We have to move her now.”

-------

Ten minutes later, they’d hauled Juleka over to Nino. Unfortunately Juleka was even bigger than Nino, and a lot longer. Everyone (except herself of course) was sweating and panting by the time they were done.

“Are *gasp* all *wheeze* dragons that heavy?!” Nathaniel (she’d gotten to know all the kids names during the struggle to move Juleka) asked incredulously.

“No,” Kagami told him. “Some are much bigger.”

He groaned.

Kim grinned. Unlike Rose, Nathaniel, or Mylene, he didn’t even look winded. “I hope the next dragon’s larger,” he said excitedly. “Alix and I have a bet on who can move the heaviest thing we can find the furthest.”

Nathaniel shot Kim a dismayed look. “You can’t even move Juleka by yourself, how do you expect to move a bigger dragon without help?!”

“Well I’ll have exercised more and become stronger by then!” 

Nathaniel just shook his head.

A crashing sound interrupted their conversation.

Kagami sniffed, then tensed.

The sound came from the same direction as the last dragon.

She took off, the humans hurrying in her wake.

---------

Great. Just GREAT.

It HAD to be Ivan.

Don’t get her wrong, Ivan was normally fine. Not the best at words, but a nice enough guy. He reminded her of herself sometimes; he struggled in social situations like she sometimes did.

Unfortunately, he was big.

Like REALLY big.

Juleka had been pretty long, with her measuring eight feet from nose to tail tip.

Ivan was ten feet long.

And unlike Juleka, most of that was torso.

“You HAD to wish for a bigger dragon!” Nathaniel groaned.

Kagami grimaced. They’d struggled enough transporting Nino and Juleka. Lugging Ivan over to the two of them in a timely fashion just wasn’t going to happen.

Plus…

Ivan turned around.

The bolas they’d used with the other dragons had worked ok. But it was geared towards dragons more Kagami’s size, not Ivan’s.

Which meant that while it had been able to knock Ivan from the air, the rope hadn’t been able to wrap around him and constrict his movements to the extent that it had with the other two.

Which meant a pissed off very large dragon was lumbering around.

“Stay back!” Kagami hissed.

Unfortunately, Ivan heard her.

His eyes narrowed.

“Alya,” Kagami told her, keeping her tone as steady and neutral as possible, “Give me the Dragon Nip.”

Alya blanched. “But you know what it does to you!”

Kagami let out a breath. “I’m the only one who can take his attacks, and he’s less likely to attack me in the first place.”

“But…”

Ivan stalked towards her.

“There’s no time!” she snapped.

Alya held the Dragon Nip out to her.

She took it in her mouth.

Oh.

OH.

She felt like giggling. What’d she been worried about again?

Oh look at all her new friends gathered around here! Were they up to playing a game?

A large movement caught her attention. Ivan ran at her.

Oh how fun! A game of chase! She’d heard about this kind of thing, but had never gotten to play for herself. 

But where was the finish line.

A flash ran through her brain of Nino and Juleka sleeping in a heap nearby.

Ah yes! That’d be perfect!

She bounced off, Ivan hot in pursuit.

He couldn’t catch her of course, while he was big, he wasn’t particularly fast or agile - unlike her.

She actually had to stop a few times, wagging her tail, for Ivan to catch up before bouncing off again.

A few minutes later they reached the dragon pile.

“I win!” she mumbled as best she could without letting go of the plant in her mouth.

Huh.

Why DID she have a plant in her mouth.

She was supposed to do something here, wasn’t she? 

Hm…

Oh yeah, she needed to give him the plant! It was a nice consolation prize for losing the race.

Ivan ran over to her.

He must want to receive his prize!

She threw it into his mouth.

He swallowed it, stopping dead in his tracks.

Then keeled over, snoring.

Looking at the sleeping dragons, Kagami felt her own eyes drooping.

Climbing into the dragon pile, she curled up and let herself drift away.