#& our team hope this examination turns into your favor.

[sokkigarden]

dancing with our hands tied (part i)

jamie tartt x female reader // nsfw 18+ // enemies to lovers // fwb

masterlist // read on ao3

summary: wearing the jersey of your self-proclaimed enemy wasn't supposed to go like this.

word count: 2.8k

decided to post this fic to tumblr! not sure if i will be doing a taglist, but i will be tagging each part with jamie tartt x reader + jamie tartt smut so if you are following those tags religiously (like me) then you can find it lol. its also on ao3 and will likely get updated there first if you'd like to subscribe that way. big shoutout to @whimsical-roasting for drafting this in our dms in a haze one night LMAO i would not have been able to write this without her<3333

༻✧✧✧༺

“No no no, there is no way I’m wearing that.”

Opposite of you, your best friend, Laney, stood with two Richmond jerseys in her hands. One said ‘Tartt’ across the back, the other, ‘McAdoo,’ but you already knew which one she wanted to wear. She had a raging crush on Isaac, so that left only one option for you.

And there was no way you were wearing Jamie Tartt’s fucking jersey.

You would never hear the end of it. As part of the team’s physio team, you had a good rapport with most of the players. You complimented them when they had a good match and joked around while working with them through their physical therapy treatments. 

You had a decent working relationship with everyone on the team. 

Everyone except for Jamie Tartt.

There was no question that since his return to Richmond, he had become a changed man, but his past words had left a lingering resentment. You didn’t think you were in the wrong to simply avoid interacting with the man. He hadn’t often been seen in the treatment room, and when he had, you typically passed off his treatment to another member of the team, along with some flimsy excuse for why you couldn’t do it.

But recently, as he trained more with Coach Kent outside of the dog track, he’d needed additional treatment. And as the new lead of the physio team, you were in charge of his treatment plan. 

In recent months, especially since working more closely with him, he’d started to notice the difference in behavior from you, leading to all sorts of jests and confrontations. Now, it seemed like he just got a kick out of teasing and inevitably pissing you off. You couldn’t help but fire some scathing shots back. What started out as a simple plan of avoidance had clearly backfired.

Now everytime he needed assistance with muscle cramps or pain medication, you got a conversation full of sarcasm and questions. It almost felt like sometimes he came in just to rile you up.

Just last week, Jamie came in to check on his ankle after a bad landing at training. You examined his leg and he made comments the entire time you had your hands on him.

“You know, I get waxed. Weekly. Everywhere.”

You had stumbled ever so slightly as you’d gone to grab an ice pack. You cringed inwardly, knowing this would only add more fuel to Jamie’s fire. You were tired of him getting the best of you, making you flustered. You wanted to fight back.

Turning back to him with the ice pack, you stared at him directly.

“Show me,” you challenged.

Jamie’s face held an incredulous expression.

“You mentioned it— you clearly want to,” you reasoned, shrugging your shoulders, “So show me.” 

You hoped your confidence in calling his bluff worked in your favor, and his face showed that he was clearly surprised by this turn of events. You couldn’t tell what he would do next. He rolled his eyes with that smug smirk on his face before he raised his eyebrows and lifted his shirt up. 

Sure enough, his chest was bare, showing off his sculpted muscles.

Jamie leisurely lounged across the treatment table, chest exposed, and you would be lying if you said your mouth didn’t water a little bit at the sight. Even after being around athletes on a daily basis, there was something about Jamie that just— hit different. His cockiness was surely annoying, but it was also incredibly arousing, as much as you hated to admit it. You felt a squeeze in your chest but you bit your tongue to keep yourself in line. There was no way that thought would ever bear fruit.

You shoved the ice pack into his lap, making sure some of it landed on the bare skin of his stomach, watching as he flinched a little bit at the abrupt action and cold temperature of the pack.

“Ice your ankle for twenty minutes, then stay off it the rest of the day,” you informed him, acting like the last few moments hadn’t happened. “You’ll be good to train tomorrow.”

Jamie scoffed at your indifference. He grasped the ice pack fully and let his shirt slide back down. 

“Sure, love, I’ll do that.” 

He knew you hated it when he called you by a pet name. That only made him use them more. You glanced back at him, staring into his eyes for a moment before you grabbed your bag. 

The tension in the room was palpable before you’d headed out to check on the rest of the players at training. You hadn’t said anything else as you’d left.

So, yeah. There was no way Jamie Tartt would ever let you hear the end of it if you showed up in his jersey number. 

“Oh, come on!” Laney pleaded. “I don’t want to wear a jersey alone.”

“Plenty of people do!”

“Yeah, but plenty of people don’t get to go behind the scenes and actually speak to the players,” she gushed. “I don’t want to meet them and look stupid all alone.”

“So instead, you want me to look stupid with you,” you gave her a flat look.

She smiled mischievously. “What? I thought it would be funny. You complain about him all the time.”

If only she fully comprehended the validity behind your complaints.

You knew there was no way you were ever going to win this fight, so you slipped on the jersey and braced for impact. You were happy to have Laney come along to a game, especially since you didn’t always attend matches and her being a big Richmond fan gave you an excuse to watch. You wanted today to be good, not just for you, but for her too. It was exciting to be able to take your best friend on a little ‘backstage’ tour during gameday. 

You hoped today would be good, and that you wouldn’t have any run-ins with the man who made your blood boil.

Alas, not even twenty minutes later, as you walked into the back of the Nelson Road stadium through the employee entrance, you promptly ran into none other than Jamie Tartt.

“Well well well, I didn’t realize someone was such a big fan,” the familiar Mancunian accent taunted behind you. 

You tried not to visibly cringe as you turned around to face Jamie. He was not yet in his kit, still wearing his street clothes: a monochrome denim set. It was frankly unfair how well the jeans fit him, but you refused to let your gaze linger for more than a few seconds. 

“Oh my, it's the infamous Jamie Tartt,” Laney greeted him playfully. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Your jaw clenched at her words as she reached out to shake his hand. He eagerly accepted.

“Have you?” he asked with a mischievous look in your direction that made you roll your eyes.

Laney nodded emphatically. “She talks about you all the time.”

You nudged her shoulder to get her to stop talking but she just looked at you innocently. She knew exactly what she was doing, and it seemed like Jamie did too.

“Oh, does she?” Jamie questioned. 

He was eating this up. His face was smug and you were sure this would haunt you for weeks to come. 

“Laney, why don’t you go get some snacks? Shouldn’t be a line since we are here a bit early. I’ve got to talk to Jamie before the match,” you said. “I’ll meet you at our seats?”

You smiled sweetly at her, but underneath the nice layer, you knew your eyes held an anger that had her quickly waving goodbye and scurrying off. You were more than happy to have her accompany you to a match, but this entire interaction was reminding you of why you hadn’t invited her sooner.

For a moment, you just stared at him. It was hard to look him directly in the eye sometimes. Despite the headstrong front you kept up, you weren’t used to dealing with such interactions. You weren't stupid, you knew that this dance you two engaged in fell close to flirting (at least that’s what Laney said), and when you looked directly at him, you remembered just how fucking hot he was.

It wasn't just his physical attributes. Sure, he was in excellent physical shape, and his hair looked particularly perfect ever since he started going a bit blond, and his lips were always in a little pout, just begging to be kissed. But it was also a little more than that. Seeing him step up to lead as they began Total Football, working as a team player while also getting in extra workouts to be the best he could be. You weren't blind. You could see his internal changes on the outside, somehow. He didn't seem as cold. He didn't seem as distant and prickish. Jamie’s change in demeanor changed how everyone saw him including himself.

And he seemed to look even hotter than he used to.

Was it possible for someone to just keep getting more and more attractive?

It was part of the reason he drove you up the wall. How did he so perfectly remain just a little bit of a prick while also being a better person? And why did he have to look so pretty while doing it? 

More and more people were making their way through the hallway as the dog track got ready for the match, and Jamie still stood in the middle, with an innocent, questioning look directed towards you.

You huffed before you grabbed his arm and shoved him into the treatment room. Even if he was acting oblivious to spectators, you didn’t want to put on a show when you once again ripped him a new one. 

His face was still prickish as you turned to look at him. He was clearly enjoying this much more than you were. 

“So you talk about me when I ain’t around, love?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.

“No, I don’t,” you said firmly. “And don’t call me ‘love.’”

He pursed his lips, “Seems like you do… love.”

He smiled cheekily at you and it took everything in you not to roll your eyes at him. Instead, you crossed your arms and put on what you hoped was your most serious face.

“I talk about everybody,” you defended, but he clearly wasn’t listening.

“Hmmm, and what do you say about me?” Jamie scratched his chin to mock being in deep concentration. 

“Mostly, I tell people you’re a pain in my ass.”

The statement seemed to shock Jamie out of his act and he narrowed his eyes at you. You knew it wasn’t the best idea to have a sparring match with a footballer right before a game. They were pent up with nerves and adrenaline as they prepared. 

After a moment of no response, you expected the conversation to be over and began to move toward the door, when he finally spoke up.

“Bend over, I’ll show you a pain in the ass.”

Now you’re the one who’s speechless. You let out a breathless laugh of shock, before rolling your eyes. You continued on your way to the door, moving to leave him in the room alone. Just as you go past him, he playfully smacks your ass. Before you have a chance to even choose your reaction, you let out what can only be described as a whimper mixed with a moan. 

You whirl around to look at him, and you both seem to be shocked by the noise. You can tell your face is burning with embarrassment as you stare at each other in a momentary state of shock. 

He recovers first, letting out a breath of a laugh. A smirk dances across his face.

“Liked that, did you?” he taunted.

You clearly didn’t recover as quickly, your reply coming out weaker than you’d like. “Shut up, Tartt.”

He stepped a little closer to you, and you stepped back instinctively, before you ran into the table set up next to the door. 

“I liked hearin’ it,” he said, his voice coming out like a rough whisper.

It all happened so fast. One moment you were barely processing how close the two of you were. Making direct eye contact, breathing the same air. In the next moment, you had spun around, shoving your own pants down around your knees as you heard him unzipping his jeans. He gripped your waist as he spanked you again, and you didn’t even try to suppress the moan that left your lips. 

He slid his dick in easily, and you were surprised at how wet you’d become from simply arguing with the man. He held you against his chest as he thrust into you, pressing a messy kiss to your neck, sucking slightly. Part of you was worried about him leaving a mark, but the thought was pushed to the back of your mind as he continued his journey along your neck. He raised your knee higher to rest against the table for a better position, and you groaned in unison as he thrust deeper inside you. You let your head fall back against his shoulder, leaning against him.

“You wanted this real bad, huh, angel?” he asked.

You nearly wept at the pet name. You made a noise of protest, but your voice came out near breathless from the intensity of it all. You felt like your knees would buckle from the sensation, so you gripped the table in an attempt to not fall.

“Fuck you— you wanted it more,” you defended, but just as you spoke, he hit deep inside you and left the end of your sentence turning to mush as you moaned.

The table wasn’t enough to grab onto, so you reached back and started to grip the strands of his hair. He groaned directly into your ear, and you felt your knees nearly give out entirely.

“Damn, you look so pretty with my name on your back and my dick inside you,” he mumbled as he ran his hand up to grip at your throat. The action wasn’t gentle, but the pressure was perfect.

You’d almost forgotten you were wearing his name across the back of your jersey. Of course he would think it was hot.

It surprised you when you realized you found it kind of hot too.

“Don’t get used to it,” you warned, “This isn’t happening again.”

Your harsh words felt like they had no meaning as you bucked against him. His own hips rose up to meet your own. Truth be told, you were getting your shit rocked and were already wondering when you could fuck him again. You felt your brain short circuiting. Your breaths were shallow as he moved his hand up to your mouth.

You bit his hand out of frustration, making him hiss and thrust his hips faster. He shoved his fingers into your mouth and you sucked instinctively, causing him to whine. 

“Jamie,” you gasped around his fingers, “I-I’m close.”

“Me too, love,” he panted in reply. You didn’t have it in you to correct him over the pet name, overcome with the sensations coursing through your body. 

He removed his fingers from your mouth and snaked his hand down your body to find your clit, adding extra pressure. He knows just the right way to move his fingers that has you falling apart in mere moments.

When you come, he turns your head to plant a wet, sloppy kiss on your lips as you both find your release. You find yourself kissing him back intensely, chasing his lips once he finally pulls away.

Your knees are weak at this point, fully leaning against him for support once he finally slips out of you and pulls his jeans back up. Before he has a chance to say anything between breaths, you reach for a towel off the shelves above you and clean yourself off.

You’re still out of breath as you finally look over at him. His face is shiny with sweat and you fear you look the same. You’ll have to stop by the restroom before you meet back up with Laney. 

Laney. 

The thought of your friend has you glancing at the clock on the wall, cursing yourself. Everything starts to come into clear view, and you wonder how you let things go this far. You just fucked Jamie Tartt. How the hell did that just happen?

You press your lips in a firm line. You try to keep your hands from visibly shaking.

“This is never happening again,” you tell him again, as you reach for the door handle to exit. 

As you open the door, Jamie scoffs.

“Sure, love,” he says, sauntering through the door that you opened, “I’ll see you after the match.” 

He leaves you with a wink before heading off to get ready for the match. If you thought he would be unbearable about the jersey, you had just made the entire situation so much worse. 

You weren’t sure how long you stood in the treatment room before you finally left as well.

[nanabansama]

Ao Oni, Aka Oni

Hey guys! Since AidaIro just graced us with art to celebrate Setsubun, I wanted to take the time to examine the meaning behind the masks the characters are wearing. This'll be quick and informal, but I hope some of you get a kick out of it, like I did.

The men here are participating in a bean throwing contest. If you don't know, Setsubun is about throwing beans at oni/ogres to drive them away. Doing this can free you of your negative desires and emotions. Of course, since most people can't find an oni or ogre to throw beans at, they usually settle for throwing them at someone in an oni mask instead. (Sort of feels redundant for Hakubo, hm? Hehe.)

However, I must say, this is my first time seeing a showdown like this...but boys will be boys, am I right?

You may notice that the blue mask team currently outnumbers the red one, but don't worry! It seems our other red team participant is just having second thoughts...

Now let's turn our attention to the masks. I'll go over the girls first since I have the least to say.

These masks are called "Okame" or "Otafuku." They depict a happy, fat-faced woman in bright white makeup. It symbolizes happiness and good fortune. You'll see it at a lot of Japanese festivals, including Tanabata. Just looking at it brings a smile to your face, right? Right!? (I hope so!)

Next we have the red and blue oni masks! Setsubun being a holiday about driving away ogres, and all, these fit more with the overall Setsubun theme. It's said that, depending on the color of ogre you hit with a bean, something good will happen to you.

In the case of a red ogre, your evil thoughts (such as desire, lust, and greed) will be dispelled.

In the case of a blue ogre, you will rid yourself of anger and become happy.

I must say...Tsukasa and Natsuhiko representing anger while Hanako and Hakubo represent desire is pretty on the nose!

But that's not all. There's one last tale I wanted to share, one that centers upon a crybaby red oni and his little blue friend...

Naita Akaoni (The Red Oni Who Cried) is a piece of children's literature that dates back to the 1930s. It tells the tale of a red oni who wanted to befriend humans, but when the humans refused to play with him, he grew depressed. Seeing this, his friend, a blue oni, suggested a plan: the blue oni would attack the human village and let the red oni defeat him so that he could win the favor of the locals.

Although the red oni wasn't sure about the plan and felt bad about making his friend do all that for him, the blue oni was adamant to see it through. And when they reached the village and put the plan into action, it went off without a hitch. By defeating the blue oni the red oni finally got to befriend the humans.

But while the red oni finally got what he desired, something bothered him. His friend, the blue oni, hadn't come to see him once since the day of their plan. When the red oni went to the blue oni's house to find out what was wrong, he found a note on the door. It read:

The red ogre silently reread the note once, twice, three more times, then began to cry...

The end! 👹😢

What a sad story, right? While I can't say whether AidaIro considered this story when assigning masks to the characters, the blue ogre's selflessness certainly reminds me of Tsukasa, like when he sacrificed his life for Amane's. And we all know Amane is a crybaby!

Thank you for reading! And I urge you to read more about Setsubun if the holiday interests you. I'm sure there's more you could learn about it than just this post that will give you a greater appreciation for AidaIro's drawing. Have a nice day, everyone!

[the12thnightproject]

Chapter 1: A Cat in a Thunderstorm. In which Katsuko and Mitsuhide get off to a very rough start.

Mitsuhide x OC; Hideyoshi x MC (Mai)

All Chapters Archived on Ao3 

Logline - With Mai, Hideyoshi, and Aki missing, Mitsuhide and Katsuko reluctantly team up. Disguised as a merchant and his concubine, can they outsmart the man known as the God of Deceit?

The first time I met Mitsuhide, I was balancing upside down on my hands while my master flung knives at me. You would think with such an introduction that our relationship would have nowhere to go but up.

You would be wrong.

“What did that one do to deserve this treatment?” The man (for I had yet to learn that this taunting stranger with platinum hair and cut-glass cheekbones was Akechi Mitsuhide - yes, ‘that one’) leaned carelessly against a tree. “Far be it from me to offer pointers on whichever brand of torture you favor, but this seems rather excessive. If you accidently nick an artery, it becomes a race against time to acquire the information before he bleeds to death.”

“Training.” Aki barely acknowledged the stranger’s presence. He sent another dagger spinning end over end toward my throat. I shifted to a one-handed stance, caught the knife, flipped to my feet, and hurled it away.

It buried itself in the tree next to the stranger’s smirking face.

I meant to do that.

Hey, it’s not my fault he chose to lean next to the target.

The stranger didn’t flinch. He pulled my dagger out of the tree and idly examined it. I tensed, readying myself in case he chose to lob it back in my direction. Instead, he simply spun it around his fingers, as if it were a baton, rather than a blade capable of reducing the number of digits on his hand.

Was this man a friend or an enemy? Enemies attack with swords and bullets, not teasing. But something about him made me feel… tense. No. Prickly. That was a better word for the shiver of worried anticipation that passed through me.

Danger, Will Robinson, danger!

I looked to Aki, hoping for a cue. Strangers approaching our campsite weren’t a rarity, and they ranged from friendly travelers wishing for company to wandering bands of ronin, mistakenly thinking we’d be an easy target. Aki’s relaxed posture suggested the stranger was of the former group. “Katsu, please prepare some tea for Lord Akechi and me?”

Oh, this was Aki’s ‘penpal,’ the infamous Mitsuhide. I’d been delivering messages between them for over four years without catching sight of more than the back of his head. Interesting… based on his silver hair, I had assumed that Mitsuhide was Aki’s age, if not older, but this man seemed to be from my own generation.

I bowed respectfully (just because Mitsuhide was kind of snarky didn’t negate his position as a General of the Oda… and, well, not to mention, Aki would scold me if I was rude to a guest) and turned toward the firepit as requested, but Mitsuhide’s voice caused me to stop in my tracks.

“No need for that, old friend. It’s your courier I was looking for. If you will allow me to question…” he paused, and those amber-gold eyes sent a long look at me, starting with the top of my balaclava, which hid my hair. His gaze travelled leisurely down to my feet, as if he, like Superman, possessed x-ray vision. That look upgraded my initial shiver to an artic chill. It felt like Mitsuhide had not only found all my secrets, but also discovered things about me that I didn’t know myself. There was something about that stare that made me wish I had missed the tree and hit him. “If you will allow me to question her.”

X-ray vision indeed. It was only Aki’s training that kept me from reacting. I’ve been dressing as a boy for seven years. So far, no one had ever seen through my disguise. Even Mitsuhide’s own courier Kyubei had never pinged my true gender. Again, though, I deferred to Aki, curious to see how he would respond.

“If you wish to discuss something with Katsu, then you may begin by making the request of her, not me.” Aki beckoned me to his side. “Akechi Mitsuhide, this is my daughter Katsuko.”

Daughter?!

At his pronouncement, I bit the inside of my cheek to remind myself to remain impassive. Trust Aki to cast me in a new role without any rehearsal. Luckily, I was facing him, and not Mitsuhide. Because Aki is not my father. Mentor. Boss.

Occasional pain-in-the-ass.

In turn, I’ve played many roles for him over the years. Courier, maid, old man. ‘Daughter’ was a new cover, but he must have had a good reason to make that claim, so I went with it. “Thank you, honorable and revered Father.” I presented him with what I hope looked like an acceptable filial bow (although, were I ever to meet my actual biological father, I would feel far less respectful).

“Ah, yes, there does appear to be somewhat of a resemblance between the two of you.” Mitsuhide inclined his head. “Miss Katsuko, if you would be so good as to answer a few questions for me?”

Aki had already given me tacit permission, but I couldn’t imagine what Mitsuhide wanted to ask me. Did he know about the ‘observing’ I had been doing in Azuchi a couple weeks ago? If so, why would he care? He was already aware that Aki’s bookstore existed, and what its true purpose was. He’d used it himself on occasion. “Of course, Lord Akechi, although I am not certain I possess any knowledge that you are not already aware of.”

“Dear me, child, you would be wise to wait until you have heard my questions before determining your usefulness to me.” This statement was accompanied by a patronizing grin that made my ‘like meter’ dive from ‘business contact’ to ‘the sooner we say goodbye, the better.’ It was the annoying diminutive ‘child’ that really tweaked my nerves. Sure, I am, as they say, ‘vertically challenged,’ but I doubted he had more than three or four years on me.

Fine, let’s get this over with.

“As you wish.” Spoiler alert. This will not be the first time I tell him ‘as you wish,’ and mean ‘I hope you fall off a cliff.’

Mitsuhide settled himself on a rock with as much je nais se quois as if he were lounging on a chaise being fanned by slave girls. To counter the impression of ‘child,’ I gracefully knelt across from him and folded my hands politely in my lap. At this close distance, I could see that his eyes were more gold than amber, though that could simply be a reflection from the campfire. A faint scent of incense clung to him, something mixed with sandalwood…. Cinnamon, maybe.

Meanwhile, Aki ambled over to the fire pit – he was close enough to listen to us, but he allowed Mitsuhide the illusion of privacy.

My interrogator got right to the matter, without bothering to ease into a conversation with small talk. “Perhaps you have heard that last month someone tried to assassinate Nobunaga at Honno-ji temple.”

Or maybe that was his idea of small talk… it could use some work.

I nodded, as I had not been living under a rock the past few weeks. In fact, I had been living under his nose, disguised as an elderly bookseller in Azuchi, but… details.

“As you are one of the couriers who regularly delivers messages throughout the Kansai region, I believe that it is possible that you may have witnessed someone, or something that night.” His eyes stayed on my face, but he managed to broadcast the impression that he would notice if I even twitched my pinkie toe.

Another time, I might have been impressed by that skill, but having it focused on me was somewhat unnerving. “I was returning home from Osaka that night when I saw the temple fire. I did go closer to see what was happening and I joined the monks and the Oda vassals to help douse the flames. But if you want to know if I saw someone out of place at the scene, I honestly would not have noticed. It was smoky and confusing.”

One eyebrow went up (a skill I have never been able to develop, in spite of much practice). “What did you do after the fire was out?”

“I knew Aki would want a full report,” I risked a short look at Aki, who was still by the fire, still pretending not to listen. “There was nothing more to be learned at the temple, but when I got to the forest outside Kyoto, I climbed a tree. The forest was full of soldiers – most were Oda’s but some had the blue and white Uesugi banners. All I learned was that Nobunaga had been rescued by a woman, who had then run off. Is he still looking for her? I’m sorry, I never saw her.”

Are we done? Please be done.

“This all has a ring of truth, and yet, as Akihira’s daughter, you surely have been well trained in scouting and reconnaissance. This feels like the rough outline of a story.” Those eyes stared into mine, and a brain freeze started in the center of my forehead.

“It’s a rough outline because it, as I just mentioned, it was dark and smoky. But if you want more…” I thought back, trying to recall any details safe to share. “One of the soldiers asked if Nobunaga was alright. Another one said that Hideyoshi took him back to the camp, and that Masamune was out looking for the woman.”

I did that whole opening my eyes wide and staying still and calm, hoping that it would project the illusion of truth.

Big mistake.

He leaned closer, pinning me in his gaze like a butterfly in a museum. “What are you not telling me?”

“What makes you think there’s more?” Actually, what did make him think there was more? I am very good at this.

“You’re breathing faster.” He touched his throat, mirroring my breath. He was close enough to touch me to make his point, but the fact that he projected it into the air between us made it all the more menacing.

“Maybe I’m simply out of breath from talking… or thirsty.” I eyed Aki, hoping he’d take that as a cue to interrupt. In response, he rattled the tea kettle – maybe just as reassurance, but otherwise, he seemed to believe I could handle things on my own.

“Perhaps you didn’t understand the question. What are you not telling me?” He didn’t raise his voice at all. He might have been discussing the weather for all the passion he was displaying… and it was creepy as hell.

Letting go of my piously folded hands (he’d seen through that anyway), I rooted myself to the ground. I tried to harness the feeling of soft forest grass and pine needles under my fingertips, the heavy solidity – the honesty -  of earth, to calm my so-called fast breathing; to dispel that buzzing feeling from my nerves. “I cannot tell you anything more.”

“Can not?” He leaned closer, but his voice quieted even further, tempting me to close the gap in order to hear him clearly. I stayed put. I was close enough as it was. “Or, will not?” He was clearly trying to Darth Vader me into telling him everything I knew. But this knowledge was not for sale, not for money or torture, no matter how condemning that cold amber gaze became.

Miming a zipping of my lips would be useless in an era where zippers had yet to be invented, and yet I had a childish urge to do just that. Instead, l lifted my chin and stared back at him, determined not to be the one to blink first.

We were trapped in a bubble, and the air around us felt almost too thick to breathe, even as that aroma of insense tickled my nose. From that moment onward, I would always, always associate the scent of sandalwood and cinnamon with Mitsuhide.

He tapped his fingers on his legs, once, twice, three times… then paused. Those long fingers resting patiently on his knees kineticly warned that his calmness was an illusion. If this man wanted something from me, he would keep pushing until all my resistance evaporated.

Enough of this.

I tried to get control over the conversation, push that storm-laden air away, push him off balance. “The end result is the same, isn’t it?”

I had recognized two people in the forest outside of Kyoto that night. Two people who were not part of Nobunaga’s forces. One was a friend, and I would not rat out a friend. The other was someone who had once saved my life, someone I owed – and though a man who would save a stranger’s life might in another circumstance kill another, I could not condemn my rescuer for walking through the forest that night.

“Not at all, Katsuko.” He smiled then, as if my attempts to deflect him were amusing. “If you are unable to tell me more, so be it. If you are unwilling, then I will simply have to discover what would make you willing. Mark my words, I will discover it.” He paused, long enough for me to start to imagine how exactly he intended to discover it, before adding, “you are aware of my reputation, are you not?”

We have ways of making you talk…

Pulling a cartoon villain into my mind – well maybe it was bad timing, or maybe it was what I needed to become braver. Or some might say my response was reckless. Would I have been less brave or less reckless if my ‘father’ hadn’t been close enough to rush to my aid if things escalated?

With more bravado than intelligence, I said, “I’m aware that many people believe you were the one responsible for that attack – if I knew something and if I revealed it, maybe I would be signing my own death warrant.”

Truthfully, I didn’t believe that Mitsuhide had anything to do with the attack. (Even though, even though in the future, that is what would be taught in schools… that Mitsuhide betrayed and murdered Nobunaga at Honno-ji, and he himself lived only ten more days before Toyotomi Hideyoshi killed him in battle. In this timeline, however, things were different, and Nobunaga and Mitsuhide had already lived past their expiration date).

As they say, the best defense is a good offense.

And I had just offended Mitsuhide.

“If harm comes to Nobunaga – harm that you could have prevented – I will make you wish for your own death.” He reached out and cupped my chin. I braced myself, anticipating that he would dig his fingernails into my skin, but all that happened was that he lightly stroked the underside of my jaw with his finger.

It was a threat all the same.

I felt like a cat in a thunderstorm, fur standing on end as the seconds elapsed between the flash of lighting and the anticipated crash of thunder; willing myself not to shudder or flinch while I waited for the boom.

He held himself equally motionless, except for his thumb, brushing slowly along my chin.

Once…

Twice…

Thr-

That feeling of his hand caressing my jaw became too much, and I flipped my spare dagger out from the inside of my sleeve and held it in front of me. “You could try.”

“Enough.” Suddenly Aki inserted himself between us. Though he had no weapon, the menace in his voice was clear. He turned to Mitsuhide. “You are my friend, but if you harm my daughter, I will not let that go unpunished.” Then, more calmly, he continued. “When Katsu returned from Kyoto, she made a full report. If there had been something in it worth mentioning to you, I would have let you know.”

“Are you certain of that?” Though Mitsuhide seemed to hold Aki in respect, he did not immediately stand down.

“Katsuko has never had any reason to lie to me.” Aki’s hand came to rest on my shoulder, and he squeezed it gently.

No. I never had. When a random twist of fate had flung me from modern Japan into this era, it had been Aki who rescued me from bandits, taken me in and taught me how to survive. I had only disobeyed him once, and it nearly got me killed. I owed him everything… but more importantly, he was family. I might not be his daughter by birth, but I was in every way that mattered. I would do anything for him.

That aside though, had I told him everything I remembered about Honno-ji? I’m sure that I mentioned seeing Kennyo – I don’t know if I specifically brought up seeing Sasuke, but I had told him about seeing Uesugi warriors.

Mitsuhide finally stopped looking at me, and if I hadn’t already been sitting, I might have fallen back a few steps. It was like the opposition in a game of tug-of-war had suddenly dropped the rope. It took all of my willpower not to react.

 “Tonight, I am staying at an Inn in Nagahama. If your memory improves before morning, you will know where to find me.” Mitsuhide got to his feet. “If it doesn’t. I know how to find you.”

His parting bow to Aki and myself was far less polite than his greeting had been. Moments later, he had disappeared into the forest.

Perhaps realizing that I would need some food and sustenance after this encounter (or perhaps suspecting Mitsuhide had stayed nearby to listen to whatever conversation came next), Aki was silent while he served up our dinner and tea. It wasn’t until we had finished eating that I dared say anything, and even then, I kept my voice too quiet to be overheard over the crackle of the fire and the hum of summer cicadas. “You knew I didn’t tell him everything.”

He nodded. “I imagine you had your reasons.”

“I did.” I swirled the tea around in my cup – Aki at least deserved the full explanation. “I owe him my life.” No need to state Kennyo’s name out loud. I was certain Aki remembered that day as well as I did.  “You obviously never mentioned it to Mitsuhide either… and you could have. I know you saw him while we were in Azuchi.”

His jaw clenched for a moment – if I didn’t know him any better, I would have said that the reminder of that time was painful. “No. As you say… he saved your life.”

I had never known Aki to be that sentimental about the bits of information that found their way into his hands, but since I was currently the beneficiary of that, I let it go. Besides, I had something else I wanted to discuss with him. “So. Field promotion to daughter?”

He hesitated a moment. “It seemed to be the best way to protect you.” He poured the rest of his tea on the fire and watched the coals sputter and steam. “I am …proud to consider you as a daughter.”

“Awww… that’s sweet.” If Aki had a family, he never mentioned them to me. “Better you than my real father.”

He looked away, as his hands briefly spasmed. “You’ve never mentioned him.”

Well, when you’re trying to avoid telling people you’re a time traveler, you don’t bring up your past. “He’s not worth mentioning. I’d rather have you as my adoptive dad… especially if I can have a pony for my birthday.”

He laughed, as I had intended. “Don’t you think Moonlight would feel slighted?”

“Might be the best way to teach her some manners.” I glanced over to where my occasionally bitchy horse was grazing next to Aki’s, then tossed her a piece of carrot. Though I loved her unconditionally, Moonlight had a few quirks… one of which was her habit of dumping me in mud puddles when she was in a bad mood. Or wet. Or… both, as getting rained on often was the cause of the bad mood.

I watched the coals sputter and pop before I returned to our previous conversation. “Should I have told Mitsuhide that I saw Kennyo in the forest that night?”

For a while, he too gazed into the fire, although I guessed he was calculating out different scenarios in his head. “Mitsuhide makes a good ally and a formidable enemy. But if Kennyo had anything to do with the attack on Nobunaga at Honno-ji, Mitsuhide has other means to discover that, and is likely to do so in the near future. The Abbot is not exactly quiet about his intentions.”

That was profoundly true. I’d been hearing rumors about a renewed Ikko-Ikki uprising for a while now. “You think my information wouldn’t make any difference in the long run.”

“I believe he already has the information he needs.” Aki reached over and gruffly ruffled my hair. “That said, Mitsuhide is not someone you want to make an enemy of.”

Duly noted. I hadn’t missed the furious look Mitsuhide had aimed in my direction when he left. But I pushed back that memory, and the frission that went down my arms at that memory. Aki would keep me safe.

Unfortunately, what didn’t occur to me in that moment was the possibility that Aki would not always be around.

@mllorei @selenacosmic @tele86 @bestbryn @akitsuneswife @lyds323

New chapters on Mitsuhide Mondays... plus secret unscheduled Mitsuhide POV "gacha" chapters (five total) will appear without warning.

[strolenylawfl]

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[svetindia]

[rocorambles]

Meeting in the Middle

Pairing: Sakusa x reader

Genre/Warnings: NSFW, Yandere, Misogyny, Controlling Behavior, Degradation, Non-Con/Rape, Spanking

Summary: Sakusa shows you that he’s more than capable of meeting you in the middle and listening to you for a change. But be careful of what you ask for.

A/N: This is for the Poly Wives Angst Collab~ RIP us and our never ending collabs we create for ourselves.

If someone had told you five years ago that you’d be dating one of Japan’s most eligible bachelors, a professional athlete fawned over by media and fans nation-wide, the epitome of the strong and silent type, you would have laughed in their faces. What is this? Some silly fairytale? The childish checklist of “things I want in a boyfriend” you’d written in middle school?

But life has a funny way of working and you find yourself in an obnoxiously lavish and rowdy nightclub, made only more crazy by the surprising appearance of some VIPs.

It seems like volleyball has somehow become Japan’s national sport overnight and although you aren’t necessarily the biggest follower of anything remotely athletic, even you know exactly who the rambunctious trio catching everyone’s eyes are.

You can’t deny there’s more than just a bit of appeal in the way their button up shirts cling to toned muscles, but you’ve never been one for crowds and you stray to the emptier corners of the establishment to avoid being swept by the crowd of excited fans. But when Atsumu cheesily winks and flirts as he signs scandalously bared skin of female fans, you mockingly gag, only to whirl in embarrassment when you hear an amused snort from behind you.

“Not a fan of Miya Atsumu?”

Staring wide-eyed and slack jawed when someone asks you a question is very rude and you want to answer. But you don’t trust yourself with basic human speech when Sakusa Kiyoomi is staring at you expectantly. So you shake your head side to side instead, heat rising to your face at the small upward curve of his lips.

“Neither am I.”

Atsumu never lets the two of you live down how he’s the one who technically brought you together, even if it was at the cost of his pride. (You chuckle when you remember his loud squawking when Sakusa recounts the dialogue exchanged at your first meeting.) But even months later, even after Sakusa has officially introduced you to the rest of the MSBY team, even after they’ve accepted you as part of their cozy and rowdy family, you can’t stop feeling impostor syndrome.

Dating Sakusa still feels unreal and you can’t help but feel like you’re living someone else’s life, stuck in a rose-tinted dream, playing dress-up and make believe as you parade around in clothing far more luxurious than you’re used to, whisked around on your lover’s strong arm as you follow him around the world from match to match. And as lovely as it is, you long to truly make this relationship your own, to feel the rawness and grittiness of love and life, to experience the charm and comfort of being true to yourself and knowing Sakusa loves you just as you are.

But your desire to be with him, to call him your own trumps your own wishes and you find yourself quickly backing down everytime you suggest something that he’s quick to turn down, desperate to appease and please him even at the price of your own desires.

He’s never outrightly rude about his preferences, never raises his voice. But somehow that makes the judgement and disdain in his dark eyes that much more apparent. You remember a rough day of work you had, the relief you had felt about being able to swiftly swap your constrictive work apparel for a pair of worn-in shorts and a baggy t-shirt. Your outfit would certainly not win any fashion awards, but you blissfully sigh at how comfortable you are as you call a local pizza shop, ordering delivery self-indulgently.

You could feel yourself becoming one with the couch you’re lounging on, the television playing in the background. But even in the hazy in-between of sleep and alertness, your eyes snap open when the door opens and you lazily smile as your boyfriend enters your shared apartment, returning from another grueling practice.

“You look like you’ve had better days.”

Your smile slips, anxiety flooding through you as you self-consciously curl in on yourself while his lips purse, eyes scrutinizing your sloppy appearance.

“Umm, yeah...tough day at work-”

“Maybe you should freshen up with me. You might feel better in a...real outfit.”

You know better than to think that it’s really a suggestion, cursing yourself, humiliation coursing through you when you think of how foolish you were to get so comfortable so quickly. You’ve seen the caliber of the women who lust over your boyfriend unabashedly despite his long-time relationship with you. You need to try harder. You need to be better.

Self-deprecation rips you to shreds as you painstakingly groom yourself, donning a dress you know Sakusa loves, applying a full face of makeup and a spritz of his favorite scent. And despite how exhausted you are, how much you’d rather be slumped on the couch, gorging on a slice of pizza, it’s all worth it when you see the appreciative look in his gaze as his eyes rake over your figure.

But worry gnaws at you once more as the doorbell rings and his eyebrow raises questioningly at the interruption. It’s a painful walk of shame as you plaster on a fake smile, tipping the delivery boy, the usually tantalizing smell of cheese and grease only making you nauseous as you bring the box to the dining table.

“What is that?”

“Dinner…”

Your voice trails off and you feel so small, so pathetic as Sakusa’s face borders disgust as he observes the offensive item.

“You didn’t cook?”

The disappointment in his voice has you spewing excuses and apologies, your heart shattering when he merely waves off your ramble, telling you he’d order a salad from elsewhere and to enjoy your meal.

You never order pizza again and a steaming hot plate of freshly cooked food is always waiting for Sakusa when he returns home while you patiently wait for him with a painted face and impeccable outfits.

Your friends and family tell you how grateful you should be, how envious they are as they oggle your latest high-end designer pieces, cooing over how picture perfect the two of you always are, staring wide-eyed at your gorgeous home, not a speck of dust or object out of place. Who would have thought that you would be the epitome of the ideal housewife in such a short time?

Yes, you wonder. Who would have thought? Certainly not you.

If only they knew how deep down the deception goes, how lost you are in this pretend world you’re stuck in. And your heart twists and turns when your friends share about the little and big spats that happen behind closed doors, giggling and sighing in an understanding you’re not part of when they playfully complain about how much work love is.

But it’s always worth it in the end because the good always outweighs the bad if you’ve found the right person (not to mention the makeup sex is a bonus). Or so they say, but you wouldn’t know what any of that feels like. Sakusa doesn’t leave room for any arguments, any disagreements, any hint of anything less than a perfect relationship.

Even in the privacy of your bedroom, you feel like you’re in a cheesy porno, dressed in the prettiest white slip dress decorated with dainty lace and a string of pearls around your neck. You feel like a doll as you’re positioned on the bed, eyes demurely looking down, letting Sakusa do as he pleases while he guides you, calloused hands roaming over your skin. You’re sure he means for it to be pleasurable and intimate, and you can’t deny that he knows your most sensitive areas, shuddering when he grazes over your hardening nipples. But there’s a coldness to his movements, a calculating aspect in the way he examines you, dark eyes scrutinizing every inch of you as if they’re looking for a blemish, a reason to lecture you on not taking care of yourself.

Yet as predictable and standoffish as he is, he does know how to pleasure you and you writhe underneath him, moaning, lower lips dripping in your own arousal. But you whimper when he growls at you to stop moaning so loudly, to stop acting like a slut.

“I’m dating a lady, not a whore.”

The words cut you, pain and emptiness mixing with the rising pleasure, muddling into a confusing and overwhelming mess insides of you. You don’t trust yourself to speak, hot tears pricking at your eyes, unsure whether a moan or harsh words would slip past your lips. But you know that neither will work in your favor, so like always, you hold your tongue, doing whatever you can to keep your lover happy. You close your eyes, letting yourself get lost in the tightening knot inside of you, submitting to the waves of pleasure that crash over you as you cum, fingers tangling in the rumpled sheets, back arching in ecstasy.

Only when Sakusa is asleep, his back turned to you, the two of you cleaned and freshened up, do you let your tears stream down your face, feeling more alone than ever in your shared bed.

You hold out longer than you should, much longer than you should, in the hopes that things will improve, that Sakusa will loosen up, reveal his true self to you, let you reveal your true self to him. It’s just early dating jitters, early relationship issues. Things will get better.

Except it’s months later and things aren’t better. If anything, they’re worse and you can feel the weight of his expectations and the stress of perpetually living by a prewritten script crushing you.

It’s time to put an end to this charade.

It’s just another uneventful night and you idly stare up at the ceiling as you wait for Sakusa to join you in bed. Your heart is racing, throat feeling dry and choked up as he slips under the covers. You’re terrified, of Sakusa’s reaction, of ending everything, of starting from scratch. But you know it’s the right decision and when he finally settles in beside you, you begin to speak.

There’s only the sound of your trembling voice as you quietly tell him how you’ve felt all along, how everything has felt so prim, proper, fake, how everyday just feels like another session of rehearsing your lines, making sure you meet whatever standard he’s set for you. You want passion, real love, fights, laughter. You just want to be yourself. You just want to be with someone who loves you exactly the way you are.

“Kiyoomi, maybe we should break up. I don’t think we’re right for each other. I don’t think I’m what you want. I don’t think I’ll ever be what you want.”

“You’re right. Despite how much time, work, money, and patience I’ve spent to better you, you haven’t changed at all.”

You’re left reeling from the matter of fact harshness of his words, the slight exasperation in his tone, as if this is all your fault, as if you’re just a bothersome misbehaving pet.

“Prim and proper? Passion? Fights? So you’re tired of manners? Tired of being a respectable woman? You just want to fight and fuck like animals?”

You open your mouth to protest, anger licking at the open wounds his verbal assault leaves behind. But before you can retort, the air is ripped out of your lungs in a stunned yelp as your body is swiftly flipped over, your face shoved into the mattress until it’s a struggle to breathe, fabric and cushion all you can taste.

Your arms flail as you struggle to breathe, nails clawing at the sheets, arms trying to push yourself up against. But it’s no use against Sakusa’s strength and just as specks of black begin to enter your vision, fingers tangle with your roots and you gasp as your head is harshly jerked up, neck bending painfully back, jaw forced open from the strange position.

You whimper, tears beginning to blur your sight as a calloused hand turns your face until you’re staring at a condescending impassive countenance.

“If you want to be treated like a slut that badly, I’ll be a good boyfriend and give you exactly what you want. Ass up. Now.”

There’s no room for disobedience and spurred on by fear and pain, you listen, awkwardly shuffling into position, shame heating your face at how exposed you feel. But it’s only the start and you scream as a heavy strike lands on your bare ass, more and more blows raining down upon you, until you’re sobbing for mercy, agonized cries forced from your mouth, thighs trembling at having to support yourself through the torture.

Your upper body slumps in relief when the hits finally stop, but you flinch when fingers methodically prod at your entrance. You instinctively try to lurch forward, away from the touch, but it’s no use and you clench your eyes in humiliation at the sloppy wet sounds betraying your arousal.

“This is the wettest I’ve ever seen you. You really do like being used and treated like a bitch.”

You wish you could deny it. You wish you had the spirit to talk back, maybe even spit on that handsome face. But all you can think of is how full you feel as Sakusa’s cock slams balls deep inside your dripping hole, how deep he is inside of you from this angle, how overwhelmingly pleasurable the mix of pain and lust is as he uses you like you’re nothing more than a warm breathing sex doll.

All you can do is lewdly moan and take it, tears slipping down your face, drool seeping into the ruined sheets, eyes rolled back in your head. The coil in your stomach tightens and tightens no matter how hard you try and hold it at bay, desperately trying not to cum, not to inadvertently admit your body’s betrayal as it succumbs to every thrust. But it’s too much, the unfamiliarity of this brutal pace, the overpowering sensation of his tip reaching new depths inside of you, and you shatter to pieces, pussy convulsing, body twitching, pleasure like you’ve never felt before surging through you.

All through it Sakusa continues his relentless rhythm, a sneer marring his flawless face as he watches you suffer through your orgasm, writhing underneath him. It’s disgusting how much you love this, pathetic, pitiful, and yet he’s harder than he’s ever been, more turned on than he ever thought possible. And all it takes is a few more thrusts before he’s spilling inside of you, a strong hand holding you still and tight to him as his groin presses against your ass, not an inch of space between the two of you as he paints your insides white.

Maybe you had a point all along. You’re absolutely filthy and wrecked and he grimaces at the tear, sweat, and sex stained mess he touches as he shoves your exhausted body away from him. Yet there’s a certain appeal to your disheveled appearance, how ruined you are because of him.

How beautifully you break.

Well if you have no desire to improve yourself, he can learn to meet you in the middle, learn to let you be the low-life whore you have no desire to move up from. After all, that’s what you said love is, right?

Accepting each other’s differences.

[calpalirwin]

I Think I Like You

Summary: Bucky falls for his best friend’s sister

A/N: I told y’all I wasn’t ready to let them go yet

Word Count: 5k

And away, and away we go!

__

1936

The ache in my knuckles was starting to occupy more and more of my attention as I followed Steve into the apartment complex. “So, this is home, huh?” I asked, flexing out my hands.

“Something like that,” he quipped, digging around in his pocket to produce a key, before letting us into one of the apartments.

I was about to ask what he meant by that, but stepping into the home quickly answered the question for me. There was something… acutely feminine about the place. It was tidy, much tidier than my own apartment down the block. Magazines were neatly stacked on the coffee table. In the kitchen, the counters were wiped down. And on the dining table, a vase of flowers. All subtle signs of the home containing a woman’s touch. “Oh?” I said suggestively, taking a seat on the couch.

Steve just rolled his eyes, as he sat down next to me, sighing deeply as he sunk back in the soft cushions. I looked over at him with a smirk. Alright, if he wanted to keep his secrets, he could, I decided. I also wondered if I looked half as bad as he did. His lip was split, and he was already beginning to bruise along the right side of his face. I looked down at my own hands, flexing them again. No doubt they’d bruise too. But that was about the extent of my own injuries compared to my friend.

The door clicked open behind us, and both of us swiveled our heads to look at the woman walking in, a bag of groceries in her hand, and a bag slung over her shoulder with papers all but spilling out of it. She was smartly dressed in a crisp blouse tucked into a black skirt that hugged her small frame tightly. She toed off her heels, blonde curls falling to obscure her face from my view. She didn’t seem to acknowledge my presence as she walked over to the couch, pressing a soft kiss to Steve’s cheek, her face pinching into a frown when he winced. “Oh, Steven, what did you do now?” she asked, moving to set the bag of groceries on the kitchen counter, her tone suggesting that she was used to seeing the man this way. She didn’t appear to care for an answer either, as she turned out of the kitchen and disappeared down the hallway, returning a few moments later with a small first-aid kit. Only then did she acknowledge my presence, blue eyes sweeping over me with slight disdain. “Bringing your fights home now, huh?” she asked, tongue clicking in her cheek, as she grabbed his face, examining the damage carefully.

“We were on the same side,” he replied bluntly, sitting still for her while she cleaned up his face.

Her gaze flickered back to me, her tongue clicking again. “For being on the same side, it looks like he got out better than you did.”

“He’s a better fighter,” Steve explained with a shrug.

“And who is he exactly?”

“James Barnes, ma’am,” I told her politely. “Pleased to meet you. Wasn’t aware Steve here had a lady.”

Steve gave a bark of a scoff, “She’s not a lady.”

Her own eyes rolled. “What he meant to say was that I’m his sister. And I’m no ma’am either. It’s ‘miss,’ Mr. Barnes.”

“My apologies, miss.” I bit back my smirk. Not Steve’s lady, and not a ma’am only worked more in my favor. “And would you happen to have a name to accompany your title?”

“That would depend on who’s asking.”

“That would be me.”

“Then, that information would be classified, James.”

I chuckled, definitely toeing a fine line of getting in way over my head, and not caring the slightest bit. “Well, then, I suppose it’s only polite to ask if you prefer ‘sweetheart’ or ‘doll’ then.”

“From you? I’d prefer neither.” She flashed me a sweet smile, releasing Steve’s face, and snapping the first-aid kit shut. Then, she was on her feet, going back into the kitchen, and returning with two ice packs. “Might wanna ice your face and hands there, sluggers,” she said, tossing one to Steve, and the other to me. “It’ll help with the swelling.”

“You didn’t tell me you had a sister, let alone one that was a nurse, and we’ve been friends for how long now?” I questioned Steve, letting the ice pack rest across my knuckles.

“2 years. And she’s not a nurse. Just a nuisance,” he quipped, leaning his head back and placing his ice pack against his face.

“You’re the one who comes in here all bloody and bruised. So who’s the real nuisance here, dear brother?” she retorted.

“That would still be you, by a long shot. I fight bullies. You just like to fight.”

“No, I command respect. Feeble-minded men only view that as liking to fight. And you?” she asked, turning her attention to me. “Steve fights bullies. I fight for respect. What do you fight for, Mr. Barnes?”

“I fight to protect those I care about.”

“Mmm, how noble,” she said, clearly not impressed with my answer.

“And half a lie,” Steve snorted. “Go on, Buck. Tell her what you do at school.”

“Buck?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“A nickname,” I brushed past. “And I’m on the wrestling team. So, sure, one could make the argument that I have fighting in my DNA. But as I’ve said, I use the advantage I have in fighting to protect those I care about.”

“Mmm, well maybe next time care a little quicker about my brother, yes?”

“With all due respect, miss, your brother has a tendency of getting himself into fights before I’m around to help get him out of them.”

“Yes, I suppose that’s true… Steve, do me a favor, and put up those groceries would you?”

He pulled the ice pack off his face to squint over at her. “Yeah, I’ll get right on that.”

She rolled her eyes. “What’s the point of you being home if you’re not going to be useful?”

He grumbled, but got to his feet to do as she asked anyway. “So, how’s Mother?” he asked her.

“Still dying,” was the answer. “And still asking why you don’t visit.”

Steve sighed. “It’s not that I don’t want to visit,” he started.

His sister held up her hand, cutting him off, “I know. Watching her die isn’t exactly pleasant. And she knows you’re busy with school, and stopping by her to help me. Nobody blames you, Steve. But she’s getting worse, so I’d make time if you can. Sooner rather than later. But not too soon. Wait until your face heals a bit. James, has my brother offered you anything to eat or drink? Or is he as bad a host as he is a fighter?”

“We were barely home a minute before you came bursting in, and started chastising us,” he told her.

She ignored his excuse. “James, can I get you anything? A glass of water?”

“A glass of water would be lovely, thank you,” I smiled at her.

“So, safe to assume you’re a friend of Steve’s from college,” she continued to make conversation with me as she filled a glass with water, then came to join me on the couch while Steve finished with the groceries. “Do you prefer to be called James? Or whatever it was he called you? Buck?”

“James. Buck. Bucky,” I shrugged. “Either works. I’m not that picky.”

“Why Buck?”

“Middle name’s Buchanan.”

“Oh, a middle name after a president, just like Steve.”

“Y/N,” Steve said in a warning. “Don’t you have studying to do?”

“Don’t you have a fight to get into?”

“Y/N?” I asked with a slight smile, liking how her name sounded on my tongue.

She glowered at Steve, not liking that he’d given her the one edge she had over me. “Yes,” she said begrudgingly.

“Pretty.”

Over the course of my afternoon spent in the apartment, I learned a great deal about the girl with the pretty name. For one, she wasn’t just Steve’s sister, but actually his twin, and she hated how adamant he was about the fact that he was still technically older. And the chip in her shoulder was just as justified as the one in her brother’s. They had a rough go of it after their father had passed a few years prior, and with the economic situation being what it was, and their mother falling ill herself it was crazy to me that they still had their education as a priority. But as someone who valued education myself, it was a trait I greatly admired.

The longer the afternoon dragged on, the more I liked her, and the more she seemed to warm up to me. Although I was uncertain if she was warming up to me because she was as equally infatuated with me as I was with her, or if it was strictly a means of stirring annoyance in her brother. Either way, I had her attention, and I wasn’t complaining.

And when the evening did draw to a close, while I wasn’t brave enough to ask her out directly, I was brave enough to suggest my interest in her.

“Bucky, can I ask something of you?” she asked, pulling the front door shut behind her to allow for a brief moment of privacy between us.

“Of course,” I asked, trying not to take too much glee in how she said my name.

“Well, I suppose it’s not really a question. But more of a request to take what I said about caring about my brother quicker seriously. He has a strong tendency, as I’m sure you’ve witnessed, of doing what he thinks is right, without stopping to think about the consequences. And he doesn’t have the… erm…” heat colored her cheeks as she fought to find the right words, “physique like you do to defend himself, despite his best intentions. So if you could be a bit quicker with that ‘I protect those I care about’ bit you were mentioning earlier, I’d greatly appreciate it.”

Did she just admit she found me attractive? “That would require me to be around your brother a lot more, you know that, right?”

“It’s a good thing you two are friends then, isn’t it?”

“Oh, I meant that it would mean I would probably be around more if I were to do that. Which I can do, no problem. Steve’s a great friend. But I would hate for my presence to ever make you uncomfortable.”

“Why would your presence make me feel uncomfortable?”

“Well, you didn’t seem all that keen on me. And if I’m being honest, I still can’t really figure out what your opinion of me is. I’m hoping it’s favorable.”

“In my defense, I came home to find my brother with a bloody face, and you with bruised knuckles. All the same, I do apologize if my original assumption made me come across as cold. Because it’s become clear to me that my brother holds you in a high regard as his friend, and I’ve never known Steve to be a bad judge of character.”

“Well, if being around Steve more for the sake of getting him out of fights quicker means I can see more of you, consider your request granted. G’night, Y/N.”

“G’night, Bucky.”

~~~

“So my sister, huh?” Steve asked when I saw him a few days later.

“What about her?” I asked, playing dumb.

“You’re smitten with her, aren’t you?”

I sighed, opting for honesty rather than something that would be an obvious lie. “Do I find her to be beautiful and charming? Yes. But would I go so far as to say I’m smitten with her? We barely know each other.”

“But you want to know her?”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” was all he said.

“You’re not mad at me, are you?”

“Why would I be mad at you?”

“You’re my best friend, and she’s your sister.”

“You’re both adults. And it’s Y/N. She’d go out with you just to spite me if I was stupid enough to warn her away from you. Which I have no reason to do anyway.”

“So if I did want to ask her out, I’d have your blessing?”

“I wouldn’t go that far, Buck. I’m simply saying I wouldn’t be mad about it. But if you do ask her out, which I don’t recommend doing anytime soon because she has a lot on her plate as is, she likes roses and dancing.

~~~

I was there when their mother passed away a few months later. I sat with them in the kitchen while they tearfully planned a funeral, offering to make the necessary phone calls that left their own words choked and stuck. And I stood between them when they buried her, one hand resting firmly on Steve’s shoulder, the other hanging limply at my side, fingers begging to stretch out and pull her hand into mine. 

When Steve excused himself to talk with the minister, Y/N sighed deeply next to me. “He’s all I got left,” she murmured with sad finality. “I mean, we always used to joke that it was just me and him. And I knew this would happen eventually. But… I’m not ready for it. I’m not ready for Steve to be the only family I have left.”

“He’s not,” I told her. “You have me, too.”

She blinked up at me. “I do?”

Heat colored my cheeks, and I rubbed at hand at the back of my neck as my nerves kicked in. “Y-yeah. I mean, I’m friends with Steve. I have no interest in ending that friendship. So you can count on me to be around if that’s something you want to count on.”

“Steve, yes. So a relationship with each other via proxy? Seems like quite the investment on your end.”

“Well, I’d hardly say our relationship with each other is strictly via proxy of your brother. I like to think we’ve become at least friendly with each other, if not friends directly.”

“And is that what you would like? A friendship?”

I hesitated. There was no way of answering her without condemning myself one way or another. If I said yes, then that’s all I would ever be to her. But if I answered no, I risked losing her before I had her. Either by her thinking I was insulting her by not wanting a friendship, or scaring her off if she interpreted what I said as being too forward too soon. “I’ve told you that I protect those I care about. Which means if you need me, for anything, I’ll be there.”

“And do you care for me simply because I’m your friend’s sister? Or do you care for me because you genuinely care for me?”

“You’re a smart girl, Y/N. Surely you can answer that for yourself.”

~~~

1937

“Steve,” I groaned as he dragged me through the streets of Brooklyn towards his place with a grin on his face. “I told you I didn’t want to do anything for my birthday.”

“I know. And that’s what I told Y/N, but you know she doesn’t listen to me.”

I groaned louder. “What did she do?”

“It’s just cake,” he promised. “So even by Y/N’s terms, this is very tame. But, you have to act surprised because she’ll kill me if she knows I told you.”

“Alright, alright,” I relented with a laugh.

“Close your eyes,” he said as we bounded up the stairs to the apartment.

“Is that part necessary?” I asked, closing my eyes anyway and letting him push me inside.

“Surprise!” both him and Y/N yelled, and I opened my eyes to see a small banner hanging up on the wall with the words “Happy Birthday,” sprawled across it, and a small cake waiting on the kitchen table. “We know it’s not much,” she went on, “but we wanted to do something.”

“Thank you,” I said gratefully. “But you didn’t have to.”

“I know we didn’t have to. But we wanted to. Turning twenty is something special, Bucky.”

“Well again, thank you,” I told her as I took a seat at the table, noticing a small parcel wrapped neatly. “What’s this?”

Her eyes went wide. “That,” she said, snatching it off the table, and hiding it behind her back, “is for later.”

This time, it was Steve who groaned. “Y/N, we agreed on no presents. Now I look like an ass.”

“This is what makes you look like an ass?” she questioned.

“Ha-ha,” he deadpanned humorlessly. “You’re hilarious.”

“Okay, this you really didn’t have to do,” I told her with a chuckle.

“Bucky? Shut up, and make a wish.” With that, she grabbed a small lighter, lighting the candles on the cake.

While she and Steve sang “Happy Birthday” I thought about what wish I wanted to make, no matter how silly the notion seemed. But my mind couldn’t think of anything to wish for. I already had everything I wanted. So ultimately, I decided to wish for things to stay the same as I blew out the candles with a huff of breath.

“Okay,” she said, setting the small parcel in front of me, after we’d eaten the cake and Steve excused himself. “Now, you can have this.”

Carefully I tore at the paper, revealing a hardcover book, the words “The Hobbit” etched across the front cover. “Wow,” I breathed, running my fingers across the cover.

“The lady at the bookstore said it was popular. But if you end up not liking it… Well, I kept the receipt, so we can return it for something you would like,” she offered as explanation, a soft embarrassed mumble

We. “No,” I said quickly. “No, I love it. This is great, thank you,” I smiled at her.

“Happy Birthday, Bucky,” she smiled back. “And uh, if you don’t mind, when you’re finished with it, I’d like to borrow it. Didn’t have enough to buy two copies.”

“Or,” I suggested, a thought coming to me, “we could read it together.”

She tilted her head to the side in confusion. “How would we do that exactly?”

“I could read it to you. We could… make an afternoon of it. Or a few afternoons of it.”

“That sounds suspiciously like you’re proposing a date.”

“And if I was?”

“I think I’d like that.”

I grinned. “How’s Saturday, then?”

~~~

“This is going to sound stupid,” Y/N interjected when I paused in my reading.

“What’s going to sound stupid?” I asked, looking at her over the top of the book. She looked cute, resting on her stomach, her elbows propped up as she cradled her chin in her hands. Her hair blew softly with the light spring breeze, and her eyes held a dreamy look to them. Okay, she looked way more than just cute. 

“I like the way you read,” she said. “Your voice… it’s nice in general. But there’s a certain flow to how you read. Your voice does this thing where it rises and falls with what you’re reading. It’s… animated. Very engaging.”

“Well, I can easily say that’s the first time someone ever complimented my voice,” I said with a chuckle.

Her cheeks turned pink. “I told you it was going to sound stupid.”

I tucked a scrap of paper in the book, marking our spot before setting it aside. “It’s not stupid. It’s a nice compliment. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Her eyes flickered from me to the book. “Are we done for the day?”

“No, I can keep reading if you want me to,” I said, picking up the book and opening it.

She smiled up at me, and then, in a move I wasn’t expecting, she rolled over onto her back and then shifted her body perpendicular to mine, resting her head on my outstretched leg. I stiffened at the sudden intimacy of the contact. “Is this okay?” she asked.

“Y-yeah,” I choked out with a cough, forcing myself to relax. “Yeah, it’s, uh, fine.”

She gave a small giggle. “You know, you’re pretty cute when you get shy, Bucky.”

“You’re pretty cute all of the time,” I mumbled back.

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

“I said you’re pretty cute all of the time,” I said again, this time without mumbling, but glad I had the book in my hand to block my face from her view.

Her hand gently pulled mine down, the book closing once more. “Bucky, if I ask you something, do you promise to be honest with me?”

“Course,” I nodded.

“Do you like me? Romantically that is.”

I swallowed thickly, nodding. “And if you want the whole truth, it’s the ‘I’m falling in love with you’ kind of like. And that terrifies me.”

“Why does that terrify you?”

“Because it means I have more to lose.”

She let out a soft “oh,” as she pushed herself to sit upwards, a timid hand stroking up the length of my arm. “You’ll never lose me, Bucky.”

Try as I might, I couldn’t hold back. I shifted to lean towards her, my hands going to cradle her face. And then my lips were on hers, and it was sweet and powerful. And my thumbs were brushing along her cheek bones as the rest of my fingers bunched up in her hair. And her own hands were looping around my neck, her fingers tugging lightly at my hair. The air came rushing out of my lungs, and I couldn’t breathe but I didn’t dare break the kiss, savoring every sensation. 

There was a sharp intake of air and I wasn’t sure which one of us had done it, because our lips stayed locked, and I had to drop one of my hands to brace myself as the kiss grew hungry and she moved in closer, practically on top of me. I moved the hand that was still holding her face to wrap tightly around her back, needing her more than I’d ever needed anybody else before.

~~~

1939

“Whoa, slow down there, doll,” I chuckled, pulling the glass away from her lips.

“But it tastes like juice!” she told me, her eyes big with excitement.

“I know, but those drinks have a lot more alcohol in them. And if I bring you home drunk, Steve will kill me.”

“He can try,” she scoffed, grabbing the glass from me and taking another big drink. “And neither one of you can get mad at me drinking, because you both do it too,” she half sang.

“Again, your drinks have a lot more alcohol in them than our drinks do. And for another, I’m a lot bigger than you. My body can handle more.”

She set the glass down, scowling over the rim at me. “You’re no fun.”

“I didn’t say you couldn’t have your drink, doll. I’m just asking you to slow down.”

“Well, can you order me another one? This one’s almost empty.”

“Of course,” I said, kissing her forehead before going back over to the bar to get us each another drink. I could feel the eyes of other girls on me as I drummed my fingers across the tabletop of the bar while I waited, but they didn’t bother me. I already had the girl I wanted staring at me like they did, and she did a whole lot more than just stare. When I turned with the drinks, I saw the way other guys in the bar were looking at Y/N back in the booth. Now, that made my skin prickle. So I squared my shoulders and slid in next to her placing a heated and heavy kiss on her cheek, smirking in triumphant as the looks dropped. “A-are you growling?” I asked with another chuckle, becoming aware of the low rumble in her throat.

“I hate the way they stare at you,” she whispered with disdain.

“Jealous?” I teased lightheartedly.

She scoffed into her drink. “Me? Jealous? Please…”

“Good. Because if anyone should be jealous, it’s me. You have the attention of every man in this bar.”

She scoffed more. “Now you’re just being ridiculous.”

“You,” I said, kissing her cheek again. “Are the most beautiful girl in here, and everyone knows it. And I’m the lucky son of a gun that gets to take you home.”

Her eyes went wide, and a grin broke out across her face. “Take me home, Bucky.”

I didn’t need to be told twice.

I held her steady as I let her into my apartment, and she blinked in her surroundings. “This isn’t… Where are we?”

“We’re at my place. Steve would kill me if I brought you home like this.”

“I-” her face flushed. “Bucky, I’ve never…”

“We’re not,” I said softly. “I’m going to help you into bed, and then sleep on the couch.”

“Oh.” It was a simple utterance both of understanding and… was that disappointment that nothing would come of the night besides her safely sleeping her intoxicated state away?

I gave her one of my shirts to sleep in, turning my back to give her privacy, before helping her into bed. “G’night, doll,” I said, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll be down the hall if you need me.”

“Wait,” she whispered, her hand reaching out to grab me by my shirt. “Can you stay?”

I looked down at her, the blanket pulled up tightly around her. My bed had never looked more inviting. And what was the harm in sleeping? I nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I can stay.” I stepped out of my pants before joining her on the bed, but staying on top of the covers. “G’night, doll,” I whispered, clicking off the light.

“You don’t want to marry me, do you?” she asked me, her voice filled with sorrow.

“What gave you that idea?”

“You can’t even share the covers with me!” was the wailed explanation of despair.

“I-” I sputtered, shocked at whatever had caused this outburst. “C’mere,” I coaxed, lifting up my arm for her to curl into me. “I’m trying to be a gentleman.”

“So you want me?”

“Of course I want you, doll.”

“Then how come you haven’t asked me to marry you?”

“I- You’re the most independent woman I know. I didn’t know you wanted to become a wife.”

“I don’t want to become a wife. I want to become your wife.”

“You’re gonna need to give me time to buy a ring.”

“But you’ll ask?”

“Until I’m blue in the face,” I promised.

“And we can have a house, and kids? Not an obnoxiously big house, but not a tiny one either.”

“We can have a medium-sized house, and fill it with as many kids as you want. And you can teach, and Steve and I can open up a mechanic shop. And every night,” I said, shifting to get under the blankets and pull her closer, “we can fall asleep just like this.”

“I love you, James Buchanan Barnes,” she breathed in content.

“I love you too, Y/N Y/M/N Rogers.”

“It’s Rogers-Barnes.”

~~~

1943

“Why do you keep fiddling with your pockets?” Y/N asked as we walked through Central Park, one of her hands holding mine, the other clutched holding a picnic basket with the flowers I’d bought her poking out the top.

“I’m not,” I lied, feeling the small box drop as I pulled my hand out of my pocket and waved it in her face. “See?”

She narrowed her eyes playfully. “You’re plotting something.”

“If by plotting, you mean enjoying a nice picnic with you, then ya got me. And it’s hardly plotting if you already knew.”

“Mmm,” she hummed, as we came to a stop underneath a large tree by the lake’s edge. “And what are we reading today?” she asked as I busied myself with laying out the blanket for us.

“Steinbeck.”

“Oh, I love him,” she marveled, kneeling on the blanket and pulling out our lunch.

“I know you do.”

With her head resting in my lap, and between bites of sandwich, I read from the small paperback novel. Our lazy Saturday tradition that I wouldn’t trade for anything. I only stopped reading when I heard the soft sigh as she started to doze off like she usually did. “You still with me?” I asked with a small laugh, tracing her cheek with one of my thumbs.

“Mhm,” she murmured like she always did, keeping her eyes closed. “Just thinking.”

I frowned. Her normal answer was “Keep reading.” “What are you thinking about?”

“How much I’m gonna miss this when you’re gone. How much I’m gonna miss you.”

My heart sank as I thought about the draft papers sitting on my kitchen table. “It’s just basic training. Couple weeks and I’ll be back. And I’ll only be in Jersey.”

“Ugh… Jersey…” She opened her eyes to roll them.

“I’ll be so bad at being a soldier, my sergeant will yell at me and ship me back home to you,” I laughed.

“You will do no such thing. You’ll do what you have to at camp, and then you’ll come home to me,” she told me, sitting up. “And then…” Her voice broke off, not wanting to finish the rest. After camp came Europe. And that was more than either of us were willing to think about. Camp. Camp was first. Camp had clear dates we could work with. 3 measly months. And what came after didn’t matter.

“And then,” I said, slowly pulling the box out of my pocket.

“No!” she interrupted, sternly. “James Buchanan Barnes, if you say one damned word about Europe, I will drown you in the lake,” came the threat.

“Y/N!” I laughed. “Can I tell you what happens after I get back from camp, or not?”

“Bucky…” she whined.

“Please? I really think you’re gonna like it.”

“What could I possibly like about what you coming back from camp means?”

“Because it means you’ll be my wife,” I told her, presenting her the box, snapping the top open to reveal a small gold band. “Marry me, doll.”

__

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[be-gay-do-heists]

hello yall :) the holy month of elul started last night, which is typically a time for contemplation, so since it is impossible for me to stop thinking about leverage, i decided to write an essay. hope anyone interested in reading it enjoys, and that it makes at least a little sense!! spoilers for leverage redemption

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Leverage, Judaism, and “Doing the Work”: An Essay for Elul

When it comes to Elul and the approaching High Holidays, Leverage might seem like an odd topic to meditate on.

The TNT crime drama that ran from 2008-2012, and which released a new season this summer following its renewal, centers on a group of found-family thieves who help the victims of corporations and oligarchs (sometimes based on real-world examples), using wacky heists and cons to bring down the rich and powerful. In one episode, the team’s clients want to reclaim their father’s prized Glimt piece that had been stolen in the Shoah and never returned, but aside from this and the throwaway lines and jokes standard for most mainstream television, there’s not a ton textually Jewish about Leverage. However, despite this, I have found that the show has strong resonance among Jewish fans, and lots of potential for analysis along Jewish themes. This tends to focus on one character in particular: the group’s brilliant, pop culture-savvy, and personable hacker, Alec Hardison, played by the phenomenally talented Aldis Hodge.

I can’t remember when or where I first encountered a reading of Hardison as Jewish, but not only is this a somewhat popular interpretation, it doesn’t feel like that much of a leap. In the show itself, Hardison has a couple of the aforementioned throwaway lines that potentially point to him being Jewish, even if they’re only in service of that moment’s grift. It’s hard to point to what exactly makes reading Hardison as Jewish feel so natural. My first guess is the easy way Hardison fits into the traditional paradigms of Jewish masculinity explored by scholars such as Daniel Boyarin (2). Most of the time, the hacker is not portrayed as athletic or physical; he is usually the foil to the team’s more physically-adept characters like fighter Eliot, or thief Parker. Indeed, Hardison’s strength is mental, expressed not only through his computer wizardry but his passions for science, technology, music, popular media, as well as his studious research into whatever scenario the group might come up against. In spite of his self-identification as a “geek,” Hardison is nevertheless confident, emotionally sensitive, and secure in his masculinity. I would argue he is representative of the traditional Jewish masculine ideal, originating in the rabbinic period and solidified in medieval Europe, of the dedicated and thoughtful scholar (3). Another reason for popular readings of Hardison as Jewish may be the desire for more representation of Jews of color. Although mainstream American Jewish institutions are beginning to recognize the incredible diversity of Jews in the United States (4), and popular figures such as Tiffany Haddish are amplifying the experiences of non-white Jews, it is still difficult to find Jews of color represented in popular media. For those eager to see this kind of representation, then, interpreting Hardison, a black man who places himself tangential to Jewishness, in this way is a tempting avenue.

Regardless, all of the above remains fan interpretation, and there was little in the text of the show that seriously tied Judaism into Hardison’s identity. At least, until we got this beautiful speech from Hardison in the very first episode of the renewed show, directed at the character of Harry Wilson, a former corporate lawyer looking to atone for the injustice he was partner to throughout his career:

“In the Jewish faith, repentance, redemption, is a process. You can’t make restitution and then promise to change. You have to change first. Do the work, Harry. Then and only then can you begin to ask for forgiveness. [...] So this… this isn’t the win. It’s the start, Harry.”

I was floored to hear this speech, and thrilled that it explained the reboot’s title, Leverage: Redemption. Although not mentioned by its Hebrew name, teshuvah forms the whole basis for the new season. Teshuvah is the concept of repentance or atonement for the sins one has committed. Stemming from the root shuv/shuva, it carries the literal sense of “return.” In a spiritual context, this usually means a return to G-d, of finding one’s way back to holiness and by extension good favor in the eyes of the Divine. But equally important is restoring one’s relationships with fellow humans by repairing any hurt one has caused over the past year. This is of special significance in the holy month of Elul, leading into Rosh haShanah, the Yamim Noraim, and Yom Kippur, but one can undertake a journey of redemption at any point in time. That teshuvah is a journey is a vital message for Harry to hear; one job, one reparative act isn’t enough to overturn years of being on the wrong side of justice, to his chagrin. As the season progresses, we get to watch his path of teshuvah unfold, with all its frustrations and consequences. Harry grows into his role as a fixer, not only someone who can find jobs and marks for the team, but fixes what he has broken or harmed.

So why was Hardison the one to make this speech?

I do maintain that it does provide a stronger textual basis for reading Hardison as Jewish by implication (though the brief on-screen explanation for why he knows about teshuvah, that his foster-parent Nana raised a multi-faith household, is important in its own merit, and meshes well with his character traits of empathy and understanding for diverse experiences). However, beyond this, Hardison isn’t exactly an archetypical model for teshuvah. In the original series, he was the youngest character of the main ensemble, a hacking prodigy in the start of his adult career, with few mistakes or slights against others under his belt. In one flashback we see that his possibly first crime was stealing from the Bank of Iceland to pay off his Nana’s medical bills, and that his other early hacking exploits were in the service of fulfilling personal desires, with only those who could afford to pay the bill as targets. Indeed, in the middle of his speech, Hardison points to Eliot, the character with the most violent and gritty past who views his work with the Leverage team as atonement, for a prime example of ongoing teshuvah. So while no one is perfect and everyone has a reason for doing teshuvah, this question of why Hardison is the one to give this series-defining speech inspired me to look at his character choices and behavior, and see how they resonate with a different but interrelated Jewish principle, that of tikkun olam. 

Tikkun olam is literally translated as “repairing the world,” and can take many different forms, such as protecting the rights of vulnerable people in society, or giving tzedakah (5). In modern times, tikkun olam is often the rallying cry for Jewish social activists, particularly among environmentalists for whom literally restoring the health of the natural world is the key goal. Teshuvah and tikkun olam are intertwined (the former is the latter performed at an interpersonal level) and both hold a sense of fixing or repairing, but tikkun olam really revolves around a person feeling called to address an injustice that they may have not had a personal hand in creating. Hardison’s sense of a universal scale of justice which he has the power to help right on a global level and his newfound drive to do humanitarian work, picked up sometime after the end of the original series, make tikkun olam a central value for his character. This is why we get this nice bit of dialogue from Eliot to Hardison in the second episode of the reboot, when the latter’s outside efforts to organize international aid start distracting him from his work with the team: “Is [humanitarian work] a side gig? In our line of work, you’re one of the best. But in that line of work… you’re the only one, man.” The character who most exemplifies teshuvah reminds Hardison of his amazing ability to effect change for the better on a huge stage, to do some effective tikkun olam. It’s this acknowledgement of where Hardison can do the most good that prompts the character’s absence for the remainder of the episodes released thus far, turning his side gig into his main gig.

With this in mind, it will be interesting to see where Hardison’s arc for this season goes. Separated from the rest of the team, the hacker still has remarkable power to change the world, because it is, after all, the “age of the geek.” However, he is still one person. For all that both teshuvah and tikkun olam are individual responsibilities and require individual decision-making and effort, the latter especially relies on collective work to actually make things happen. Hardison leaving is better than trying to do humanitarian work and Leverage at the same time, but there’s only so long he can be the “only one” in the field before burning out. I’m reminded of one of the most famous (for good reason) maxims in Judaism:

It is not your duty to finish the work, but neither are you free to neglect it. (6)

Elul is traditionally a time for introspection and heeding the calls to repentance. After a year where it’s never been easier to feel powerless and drained by everything going on around us, I think it’s worth taking the time to examine what kind of work we are capable of in our own lives. Maybe it’s fixing the very recent and tangible hurts we’ve left behind, like Harry. Maybe it’s the little changes for the better that we make every day, motivated by our sense of responsibility, like Eliot. And maybe it’s the grueling challenge of major social change, like Hardison. And if any of this work gets too much, who can we fall back on for support and healing? Determining what needs repair, working on our own scale and where our efforts are most helpful, and thereby contributing to justice in realistic ways means that we can start the new year fresh, having contemplated in holiday fashion how we can be better agents in the world.

Shana tovah u’metukah and ketivah tovah to all (7), and may the work we do in the coming year be for good!

------

(1) Disclaimer: everybody’s fandom experiences are different, and this is just what I’ve picked up on in my short time watching and enjoying this show with others.

(2) See, for example, the introduction and first chapter of Boyarin’s book Unheroic Conduct: The Rise of Heterosexuality and the Invention of the Jewish Man (I especially recommend at least this portion if you are interested in queer theory and Judaic studies). There he explores the development of Jewish masculinity in direct opposition to Christian masculine standards.

(3) I might even go so far as to place Hardison well within the Jewish masculine ideal of Edelkayt, gentle and studious nobility (although I would hesitate to call him timid, another trait associated with Edelkayt). Boyarin explains that this scholarly, non-athletic model of man did not carry negative associations in the historical Jewish mindset, but was rather the height of attractiveness (Boyarin, 2, 51).

(4) Jews of color make up 20% of American Jews, according to statistics from Be’chol Lashon, and this number is projected to increase as American demographics continue to change: https://globaljews.org/about/mission/. 

(5) Tzedakah is commonly known as righteous charity. According to traditional authority Maimonides, it should be given anonymously and without embarrassment to the person in need, generous, and designed to help the recipient become self-sufficient.

(6) Rabbi Tarfon, Pirkei Avot, 2:16

(7) “A good and sweet year” and “a good inscription [in the Book of Life]”

[teddy06writes]

sorry to request yet another one, but you are such an amazing writer. Could I possibly have a romeo and juliet type story where reader is sleepybois sibling and is in love with either poly dream team (dream,George,sapnap) or just george xx

dream x george x sapnap x reader + sleepy boys x sibling!reader

trigger warnings: swearing, yelling, character death, Wilbur being a dumbass

premise: you are one of Philza’s children, and have fought for L’manburg’s independence, we follow your secret romance with the enemy, of course, this tragedy knows no happy ending

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You carefully dropped down over the side of the L’manburg wall, ducking into a roll before standing up and dusting yourself off, starting to sneak away.

A hand clamps around your forearm, pulling you around the side of a tree.

You hold back a yelp, instead turning with a smile, whispering, “Mr. Sapnap we simply must stop meeting like this.”

“And what? You’d have us march through your gates announcing ourselves to your brothers, I think not.” Nick chuckled.

“Well, I suppose that would put a damper on things.” You grinned, pressing a kiss to his lips.

He fit your hand into his, pulling you along as you started for where the others would be waiting, “Especially when they are so against our dear Dream.”

“To be fair, he was against us.” You argued.

“But no more.” The man himself pointed out, stepping out of the shadows, rising his mask enough to press a kiss to your knuckles.

“Because we continued to fight? or Because you wanted an excuse to talk to me without it being over a declaration of war?”

“I believe it was because Tommy gave up his disks,” George offered, leaning in to place a kiss on your cheek, “Hello dearest.”

You sighed, “Phil gave him those disks. They were one of the only things to survive the blast.”

Behind the mask you could tell Dream’s face fell, and he started to turn away, “I- we did what we thought was right.”

“Blowing up my country was what you thought was right?” You challenged, crossing your arms, “You even had the audacity to cheer as my head was separated from my body by the sheer force.”

“Here we go again.” George muttered.

“We didn’t know you then! Things have changed! You and your people are free now!”

“That does not change our history.” You said indigently.

“What about when Sapnap burned the forests? That’s part of your history too yet we don’t see you yelling at him!” Dream exclaimed.

You sighed, “The forests were replanted with his help, and he has shown remorse, and regret over his actions.”

Surprisingly Dream wrapped his arms around you, pulling you flush against his chest, “If that is what I takes to gain your trust, then I am sorry. I hope my past mistakes do not haunt you any longer.”

Reluctantly you wrapped your arms around him, smiling as the other boys joined the embrace.

After a few moment Dream pulled away, “c’mon, we may even have time for a proper date.”

~~

“An election?” You questioned, “But your already the president.”

Wilbur grinned, “But I put myself in that position, if we do it this way everything is fair!”

You glanced down at the papers littering his desk, “Wil I don’t see how this makes things fair, I mean,” You picked up the note book where he’d been witting makeshift ballots, “Closing the ballots early? The people will only have one option! How is that fair?”

“Actually, I’m running as well.”

You turned to see Quackity entering the office, “You? You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

The man frowned, “Well, I figure if Wilbur here gets a chance to do it fair why shouldn’t I?”

“We’ll be able to beat him easily.” Your brother quietly assured you.

~~

“You alright love? You seem stressed.” Nick said quietly.

You sighed looking up at the sky, “Wilbur plans to hold an election. He believes we can over take Quackity and Swag 2020, but now Fundy and Niki have made there own party as well.”

George turned, propping himself up on his elbow, “That doesn’t sound good. If he’s already in charge why does he need to be re elected?”  

“We put him on the throne, Tommy, Tubbo, Niki, Fundy and I. He wishes to be there fairly with the support of the people.”

Dream hummed, “Do you think he could win?”

“It’s possible,” You sighed, leaning back against Nick, “But campaigns have been tricky, Tommy managed to dig up Jshlatt. They though he could help, but now he’s trying to make a claim to having a spot on the ballot.”

“I thought he was dead.” George said.

You laced your fingers through his, “Well now he’s just a drunk who’s running for president. God I hope it was just a joke.” You muttered the last part.

The boy shared glances, Nick hazarding, “What happens if someone else wins?”

“Well, I suppose it wouldn’t change much for me, technically I hold no office other than managing my brothers and the campaign, it’d shift me further out of public eye, but, I think Wilbur wouldn’t handle it well.”

Dream began to trace shapes into your open palm, “Well, with you in charge of the campaign I doubt your brother will fail.”

You smiled, “Let’s hope so.”

A few hours later, as the sun began to disappear beyond the hills of L’manburg you stood up from the picnic, bidding your lovers farewell, “Wilbur’s meeting starts soon, and I’ll be missed.”

After a few traded kisses you started back through the woods toward L’manburg, sneaking back in through a gap that had never been fixed in the wall, pausing at your house to change back into your L’manburg uniform before hurrying off to the white house.

“Your late!” Tommy called sharply as you entered Wilbur’s office.

“I lost track of time working on the last of the posters.” You pulled the rolled up tubes of paper from the bag you’d grabbed at the house as well.

Wilbur took the tubes as Tommy looked at you skeptically, “Yeah, doing that and what else?”

“Well I was talking to Phil today telling him about the election,” You sat down next to Tubbo, “But not much else.”

Wilbur sighed, dropping a flyer on the table, “We have more important notion to discuss, it would seem that Shlatt is serious about this.”

You grabbed the flyer, looking over the bolded, ‘Shlatt 2020′ and then back at Wilbur, “This can’t be real. I thought you closed the ballot.”

“The people favor him enough to allow him a spot on the ballot.” Tubbo sighed.

“We still stand a chance though,” Tommy said quickly turning to Wilbur, “Right Wil?”

Your older brother hesitated, wavering for a moment, before nodding, “Yes. Yes of course.”

~~

“(y/n) I must ask you some thing.” Wilbur said as the meeting ended and Tommy and Tubbo headed out.

“Yeah?”

“Why do you sneak out?” Your breathing hitched but he continued, “Who are you meeting? What are you hiding? Who do you talk too from- from the SMP lands?” His voice turned to acid at the last words.

“I don’t go anywhere, outside L’manburg. Other than for walks in the forest on occasion.” You lied.

Wilbur examined your face, as if searching for something, “Fine then. Don’t tell me, I will find out sooner or later.”

He strode out of the room, leaving you to pull out your com tablet, privately messaging Dream, ‘it might be a bit before I can see you guys again’

‘:(’

You rolled your eyes quickly typing, ‘Wils getting suspicious, I’m just trying to keep you safe’

‘george also says :(’ Was all you received in reply, so you quickly put the tablet away, heading out of the office and out to the street.

You took a deep breath, looking back at the podium, ballots would be collected tomorrow, and then everything could change.

~~

“Last night, before the last of the ballots were collected, Mr. Quackity of the SWAG 2020 party made an agreement with Mr. Jshlatt of the SHLATT 2020 campaign, that if neither party won the popular vote, they would combine there votes, creating a collation.” WIlbur announced.

From your place to the side of the stage you froze, fear coursing through your veins.

“And so, the combined percentages of SWAG 2020 and SHLATT 2020, bring the coalition to 46% of the popular vote.”

Your heart pounded in your ears, feeling Tommy freeze beside you.

“Which means, the coalition government of SWAG and SHLATT 2020, have won the L’manburg election, by 1%.”

The world seemed to slow as parts of the crowd erupted into cheers, Quackity jumped around on the stage yelling as Wilbur slowly moved away from the podium, out of the corner of your eye, near the back of the stands you see your boyfriends all looking down, but you paid them no mind, instead looking Shlatt dead in the eye as he grinned maliciously at you, before turning to address the crowd.

Wilbur tugged you and Tommy away from the stage, “We’re citizens tonight.”

Shlatt leaned over the podium as you took seats near the front of the crowd, “Well that, was pretty easy.”

You felt your brothers grip your hands, as you stared up at Shlatt.

“You know what I said when I announced this campaign? I said ‘things are gonna change’ I looked every citizen of L’manburg in the eye and I said ‘you listen to me... this place will be a lot different tomorrow.”

He smirked down at you, “So let’s start making that happen. My first decree as president of L’manburg- as EMPEROR! Of this great country!”

Your breathing hitched, “Is to revoke citizenship-! Of TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot, and (Y/n)! Get them out of here!”

Suddenly it seemed as though every weapon in the city was trained on you as Tommy dragged you up out of your seat.

Wilbur was yelling at you to run, but you remained frozen on the spot, turning to look at the podium one last time before following your brothers, only a few steps behind, most of the crowd beginning to disperse

Some one practically screamed your name, and you turned in time for an onslaught of arrows to bury themselves in your body.

The last thing you saw before crumpling to the ground was Dream, Nick and George rushing toward you.

Shlatt strode off the stage, trying to move closer to your body only to be blocked by Dream’s outstretched sword.

He peered around where George had flung himself over you, “I want them out of here as soon as they respawn.”

~~

You woke to someone pressing a damp cloth to your forehead, and excruciating pain spreading throughout your body.

Your eyes flicked open, looking around at the cave you found yourself in, in confusion. When you tried to sit up a gentle hand pushed you back down, “Don’t, you only respawned fully a day ago, you're too weak for that.”

“What’re you doing here?” You groaned.

Technoblade chuckled, “I heard someone say rebellion.”

You looked at him confused for a moment before he elaborated, “This is Pogtopia, cause apparently Wilbur can’t go more than a few months without establishing a new country. Tommy found the cavern after they were ran out of L’manburg. Tubbo is working with Shlatt to hunt you guys down, and Wilbur is trying to start a plan to get the country back.”

“How’d I get here? my bed is all the way in L’manburg.”

Techno grabbed one of the baked potatoes he’d brought up to your room, offering it to you, “That’s the thing I was meanin to ask ya, is there a reasonable explanation as to why it was the Dream Team who brought your body back here? All dramatic and not wantin to leave?”

You face flushed and you turned your head away from him, “It’s a long story.”

“I’ve got time.” You brother said, moving to lean back against the wall.

You giggled nervously, “I guess it technically started when L’manburg was still fighting for independence...”

You told him of the strange glances during war councils, the way Nick had stopped in his tracks when he saw the way you looked forlorn at the burning wood, the way George found ways to sneak you trinkets signed ‘from someones special’, and the way you were never in any real danger during many battles.

You recalled your first real meeting with Dream after you had gained independence, the way he’d seemed so different then than at the signing of the peace treaty, the way that You’d received help replanting the forests, and the quiet still moments shared by the channel George almost unaware of your being there.

It was the first time you had really spoken about your lovers to anyone, and though it took a weight off your shoulders it added another as Techno subconsciously pulled out his axe and began to sharpen it.

“They wouldn’t hurt me, and the conflict that we shared was between the SMP Lands and L’manburg, not us.” You finished quietly.

Techno looked at you quizzically, “Your telling me Dream, the Dream, Mister Manhunts and smp and god among men Dream, would willingly put away his conflicts, his gains, his leverage, just for you?”

“For all of us.” You said firmly.

“That why he kept Tommy’s disks?”

“Tommy willingly gave up those disks for the country.” You muttered.

Your older brother ignored you, “That why he openly endorsed Shlatt as soon as your back was turned?”

You froze, pushing yourself to sit up, even as it made your head spin, “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Shlatt’s key endorsement, you know, the endorsement given to the guy who was suppose to endorse Wil?” He watched as your face fell, before quietly starting out of the room, “I won’t tell either of them, but if Dream loses a life cause you find out it was true, don’t look my way.”

You fished your com tablet out of the pack that was lying next to your cot, ‘we need to talk.’

~~

“(y/n)! Thank god your okay!” Nick exclaimed, throwing his arms around you.

You hugged him back before turning to face Dream, “Why did you endorse Shlatt?”

He opened his mouth to say something but you cut him off, “And I don’t want a denial or an excuse, or- or any of that. I just want to know why you did it. Why you didn’t tell me?”

Shakily Dream pulled off his mask, looking you in the eye, “I didn’t mean to do anything that would hurt you. Technically I never publicly endorsed him, he took a piece of advice and ran with it to the people. If I had known he was going to do that I would’ve never talked to him in the first place. If I had known he was going to exile you, if he was going to take one of your lives I would have killed him where he stood with no hesitation.”

The mask shook his hand, and George gently took it from him, lacing there fingers together encouragingly.

“I know I fucked up talking to him but if he goes near you, or tries to get you exiled further, or anything like that, he’ll be dead. I- I will do what it takes to help you get L’manburg back.”

You bit your lip, still partially holding on to Nick, “Why did you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to add to the stress.”

“Also, you said Wilbur was getting suspicious, and you stopped talking to us for two days.” George pointed out.

You nodded, quietly rubbing at your eyes, “Uh, yeah, uh, so Techno knows.”

Nick stiffened, “What?”

“Technoblade knows about this- uh- us.”

“T- Technoblade, your brother, as in, The Technoblade, Mister violence, and blood god and technoblade never dies,  knows about us?” George gulped.

“He only threatened Dream, so don’t worry?” You said sheepishly.

Nick chuckled, “Wonderful, that means we get out with our heads and Dream gets to fight to the death.”

“I don’t see how that’s fair.” Dream pouted.

“Maybe I just thought it better to threaten you cause I know if I tried to take the other ones you’d come for me anyway.” Techno said, striding into the clearing.

The boys sat there looking at him for a moment before he sighed, turning to you, “You better get back inside ‘fore Wil goes insane. An’ you guys better clear out before Tommy sees you and goes berserk.”

Reluctantly your boyfriends nodded, quickly muttering goodbyes and leaving, only slightly in fear of Techno, and you turned to your brother with a sigh, “He can’t keep me locked up forever.”

“He’s worried. Paranoid even, thinks Shlatts gonna send someone to kill you again,” Techno explained, guiding you back towards one of the entrances of the cavern, “The stress is getting to him.”

~~

The days spent in Pogtopia began to blend together, the only memorable ones being the ones that were spent sneaking out and seeing your lovers, though you never excepted to see one of them within the cavern itself.

You had come down one of the narrow walkways of your new home, and when Tommy had grabbed your wrist, hissing “Dream is here! And he’s going to help Wilbur blow up L’manburg!” you were not nearly prepared to see him handing Wilbur a rather large bag.

Wilbur grinned wickedly, “This is perfect.”

“Wilbur,” Your little brothers voice was shaking, “Give me that tnt.”

Dream drew his sword, holding it up almost lazily in Tommy’s direction, “I’m going to have to step in on this one Tommy.”

You could see him smirking under the mask as you pushed Tommy behind you, “Wilbur what are you doing?”

“What needs to be done.” He said coldly, “If I can’t have Manburg no one can have Manburg!”

“And you think blowing up our home is the right move?” You said cautiously.

There was something different in Wilbur’s eyes, “No survivors.”

Techno watched this from his spot on the wall, “Wilbur I think we need to have a discussion, things like this take time to plan. (Y/n) why don’t you escort our guest out.”

You nodded sharply, starting towards the back of the cavern, “This way green boy.”

As soon as you got outside the cave you grabbed his wrist, shoving him against the rock wall, “What the fuck are you thinking?”

The now lopsided mask reviled his cocky smirk, “Shouldn’t this be the other way around?”

“Shut the fuck up! What are you thinking?”  You hissed.

“I’m helping you get back your L’manburg!” He sounded all too happy about it.

“By siding with him? He’s gone manic Clay! He’s fucking insane!”

Dream winced at the words, “He’s your brother. You have to side with him.”

“My brother is gone. I side with that man because I am loyal to my family, so long as Techno and Tommy are with him I am. If there was ever a time for you two to ever get along it would not be this.” You backed away from him.

“(y/n), I’m just trying to help.”

“I know,” You said softly, turning back to the cave entrance, “I’ll see you soon.”

~~

“Wars tomorrow.” George said quietly.

You nodded, carding your hand through his hair, “That it is.”

The month had passed quickly, and after the incident at the festival, and then Quackity’s meeting with Shlatt you seemed to have blinked and the eve of war was upon you.

You had snuck out, now spending your last night before the world changes again with your boys, huddled up together in one of the castles parapets. (It had been quite a shock to you when Dream dethroned Eret)

“We will be on different sides, how will this even play out?” Nick asked.

“Only time will tell.”

Dream, mask long since forgotten to the side, bit his lip, “(y/n), George, I want you to stay out of the fighting.”

“We can handle ourselves.” You argued.

“It’s George’s job to stay neutral, and you’re on your last life. None of us want to lose you.” He said softly, looking over Nick’s head at you.

“I will fight for my country. No one will stop me.”

“Even if Phil came back and told you not too?” Nick asked with a chuckle.

“Well-” You laughed, “I suppose it would depend.”

A while later, you began to head back to Pogtopia, your boys insisting on walking you back.

Upon reaching the cave you kissed each of them, “Until we see what tomorrow brings.”

They gave similar goodbyes, and you darted back into the cavern.

Coming around the corner someone grabbed your wrist, tugging it hard, and you came face to face with Wilbur, “Where the fuck were you?”

“uh- o- out.” You stuttered.

“Out with your boyfriends?” He taughtened, dragging you down through the cavern, past the new rooms that had been carved out recently, “When were you planning on telling us of this little fling?”

“What are you talking about?” Tears sprung to your eyes.

“Oh I know all about you and Dream and Sapnap and George! You and your fucking betrayal! Why the fuck would you try to betray me? I’m your brother!” He exclaimed, practically throwing you into a newly constructed cage.

You dug your nails into your palms, “Wilbur, please.”

“I know it was them who disconnected the TNT, who you keep sneaking out to meet, who you were conspiring against me with!” He locked the cage and you caught a glimpse of Techno, leaning against a wall looking down.

“Wil I never conspired against you!”

“We’ll see about that.” He hissed, “You’ll stay here until this is over. I may fail at regaining my L’manburg but I will not fail to kill those men.”

As he strode away you looked to Techno, “Techno what’s going on?”

“I’m sorry.” Was all he managed before hurrying away.

Tears began to stream down your cheeks as you looked around the abandoned alcove of the cavern, there was no getting out of this.

Quietly you pulled your com tablet from your sleeve, sending a messege to Phil, ‘dad I need help, Wil’s gone insane’

~~

You leaned against the bars of the cell, Pogtopia’s few members had long since left for the battle, and you were still here, trapped where Wilbur had left you, none of your boyfriends were responding to your pings, feeling utterly hopeless.

“(y/n)?” A yell echoed through the cavern.

“Phil!” You called desperately, “I’m in here!”

A few moments later your adoptive father appeared in the doorway, shocked upon seeing the locked cage and your tear stained cheeks, “(y/n).”

You nodded as he quickly began to work at the lock, pulling you into an embrace as soon as the cage opened.

“Dad,” You hiccupped, fighting back a new wave of tears, “He’s insane! He’s gonna try to blow up Manburg again! And he’s gonna try to kill them!”

“Who is?” He asked gently.

“Wilbur! He’s gone mad!”

Phil pulled away from you to look you in the eyes, “Are you sure?”

You nodded, sniffling.

Phil took a deep breath, looking around, “Okay, you get down to where they’re fighting, you try to keep Wilbur distracted once it’s over, I’ll try to think of something to stop the tnt.”

You nodded, quickly forcing yourself up, running out of the cavern.

You hurried through the woods, pushing yourself to go faster, making it to the crest of the hill as people flooded out of the van, cheering, people of Pogtopia, L’manburg and the SMP lands alike.

You charged down the hill, not seeing Wilbur standing to the side.

“Dream! Sapnap! George!” You yelled.

They turned to see you running at them, relived to see you okay, still not understanding the cryptic things Wilbur had been saying.

“(Y/n)-” Dream was cut off a yet another arrow planted its self in your back.

“Love?” You whispered, before crumpling to the ground.

They rushed forward, but it was too late, you were gone, and George early screamed, burring his face in an expressionless Nick’s shoulder.

Dream looked up at Wilbur, whos cross bow was still raised, utterly broken, “What the fuck have you done?”

[doctorstethoscope]

The Right Chapter 22 || Aaron Hotchner x Fem Reader

helloooooo besties and happy Saturday! 

Read previous chapters of this fic here! 

contains: canon-typical descriptions of violence and death

wordcount: 1.9k 

You're passing the diamond on your chain between your fingers anxiously a few days later as you and Spencer pour over a map on the jet. You’re headed to Colorado after a family annihilator had struck twice in the same small Denver suburb. The whole town was on alert, and you needed to solve this one fast before the whole state devolved into hysteria. Hotch decided on the jet to send you, Reid and JJ to the precinct-- you and Reid will keep working on the geographic profile, and JJ will coordinate local law enforcement. He, Morgan and Emily are headed to the neighborhood to see if any of the locals had noticed anything off. 

“There has to be a connection to this specific suburb. Why come ten miles outside of Denver when the city, or even a closer suburb, would be a more target-rich environment?” You floated an idea past Spencer, who nodded in agreement. 

“You think he sought out these families in particular?” He asked, turning his attention to the pictures on the whiteboard. 

“Not necessarily. Garcia’s still looking for a connection between the families, but so far she hasn’t found one. I think these two families were practice for something worse, or for a family that matters more to him.” You conclude, hoping more than ever that you had profiled wrong. 

“If that’s the case, our presence here might trigger the unsub to escalate,” he points out with a grimace. 

“Or, hopefully, it will send him into hiding.” 

“We’ll never find him if he does that.” 

“We’re gonna have to.” You sigh, pulling your attention back towards the map. You pour over it, certain that if you look just a little closer, the answer will jump out at you, but it doesn’t. 

Geographic profiles are always helpful, and you and Spencer were great at them, but they rarely solved cases on their own. The reality of the situation is that without any info on the unsub or the connection between the victims, you were essentially trying to create something out of nothing. You push your chair out from the table, deciding to give your mind and your eyes a break, when your phone starts to ring. It’s Garcia.

“Oh, you’re just my favorite person.” You said into the phone by way of greeting, hoping that she’s going to present you with the missing piece that will make all of these seemingly unrelated pieces of information make sense together.

“Careful, peach! There’s someone else on the line who might object to that,” Garcia warns you. 

“What do you have for us, Penelope?” Aaron asks.

“So, the Sutton and Mack families have more in common than we thought-- not so much socioeconomically, but their kids were both enrolled at the local high school, although different ages, and the moms were on the PTA together.” 

“Were they friends? The kids, or the moms for that matter?” You ask immediately. 

“It doesn’t really look like it, but I’m going to keep digging,” she tells you. 

“And no connection between the fathers?” Hotch asks.

“Nope, Mr. Sutton was an attorney and Mr. Mack was a cab driver. Doesn’t seem like they ever would have met.” She tells you both. 

“Garcia, do me a favor and make sure Mr. Sutton wasn’t in Mr. Mack’s cab within the last month or so. Let us know when you have more.”

“Oh, sir, before you both go, there’s one more thing.” She blurts out before Aaron can hang up the phone.  “It’s about Josh.” 

You take a sharp breath in, and Spencer’s in tune to you immediately, his head jerking up from the maps, looking you over to make sure you’re okay. 

“What is it?” Hotch asks, sounding every bit as tense as you feel. 

“Josh was arrested this morning. Busted for possession during a traffic stop,” She tells you and you let out a sigh of relief. 

“That’s… that’s great news.” You say.

“I thought you’d both like to know.” Garcia tells you.

“Anything else?” Hotch asks, and you're perplexed by his lack of response to such a good update. 

“No, that’s all for now. I’ll call you back as soon as I have more on the case.” She says, and the line clicks.

“What was that about?” Spencer asks, bringing you back to reality, and you share the info from Garcia about the victims. You can tell that he knows that there’s more, but he doesn’t press and you don’t offer. 

“If both the kids and the moms knew each other, we could be looking at a bullied kid or a woman scorned.” You theorize. 

“A woman wouldn’t kill the kids, at least not a mother. And if the woman wasn’t from the PTA, why target these moms in particular?” Spencer argues, and you agree. 

“Could be a man, too. Maybe he’s jealous that he doesn’t have the picture-perfect family he’s destroying.”

‘That’s more likely. Although with nothing connecting two husbands, we’ll have a hard time profiling a man if that’s the case.”

“Okay, so for now we focus on the kids until we find something that pulls us another way. You want to take the Macks and I’ll work on the Suttons?” 

“Will do.”    

You work in silence for a couple more hours until Hotch, Morgan and Emily return. 

“Anything helpful?” JJ asks, coming into the room behind them. 

“The moms were friendly, but not necessarily friends. The kids mostly hung out in separate social circles, it seems.” Morgan informs you all. 

“Any obvious power imbalances between the kids groups, or bullying?” You asked. 

“None that any of the kids we interviewed brought up.” Emily tells you. 

“None of the moms mentioned it either-- and they’d be more likely to bring it up than the kids would.” Aaron tells you. 

“So we’ve got a whole lot of nothing.” JJ concludes, and you sigh. 

You all continue to work for a few more hours-- putting together profiles of each of the members of the families that ultimately bring you no closer to finding the unsub. 

“We’ll be back here first thing tomorrow morning-- there’s nothing else we can do tonight.” Hotch concludes as he pins the last index card to the cork board. “Let’s head to the hotel and get some rest.” 

Despite the exhaustion that has soaked its way deep into your bones, you and the rest of the team pull yourselves out of your chairs and towards the SUVs. You nearly sink into the leather, and if he wasn’t such a stark professional, you might have asked him to carry you up to your hotel room.  He did, however, offer you a very gentlemanly hand to help you out of the car, and wrap his arm around your waist as the two of you trudged your way into the elevator and down the hall towards your room. You collapse onto the mattress as soon as you make it through the door, and Aaron chuckles at you, taking a moment to brush his teeth and change. When he settles on top of the covers next to you, you speak up, although hadn’t really intended to do so.

“Aaron, can I ask you something?” 

“You can ask me anything, my love,” Aaron mumbles like it’s the easiest thing in the world as he leans over to set the hotel alarm clock that sits on the bedside table. 

“When Garcia told us that Josh was arrested… you didn’t seem happy.” You said, decidedly not a question. He answers you anyway, shifting towards you to look you in the eye before he speaks up. 

“I’m sorry honey. I’m relieved, of course I am. I was just focused on the case this morning. Maybe I haven’t fully processed it yet,” he confesses. “But of course I’m happy for you. I would have been happier to arrest him myself, but this is just as well.” He tells you with a rueful smirk. 

He’s lying, and you can see it in his face. Maybe lying is a strong word, but there is definitely more to it than he’s telling you. “You’re sure? There’s nothing else that’s bothering you?” You pushed, but he shook his head, looking down at his lap.

“I’m sure, doll. I really am happy. We’ll take Jack out when we get home to celebrate.” He tells you, leaning over to kiss your temple. 

“Maybe a bike ride and some ice cream? I haven’t been out on the bike with him since he got his training wheels off.” You suggested. 

“Sounds perfect,” he tells you, reaching to kiss you again and moving to wrap his arms around you, which you dodged. 

“Get the bed nice and toasty for me while I change,” you smirked, rolling off the mattress and heading towards your suitcase for some pajamas.

You were back at the police station before the sun rose the next morning, pouring over the transcripts of what had come in from the tip line the night before in the hopes that you might find something useful. Your desk looked the same way it used to when you were studying for exams in the academy-- papers and highlighters scattered everywhere, color coordinated page flags littering all of your documents. 

“Cupcake, if I didn’t know any better, I might think you were the serial killer,” Morgan comments with a smirk, setting a hot cup of coffee in a relatively-unoccupied patch of desk. 

“Very funny, Derek.” you rolled your eyes. “I’m only letting you live because you brought me coffee. And because I’m too tired to kick you,” you told him.

“Do you want any help?” He offers, and you smile, but shake your head at him. 

“No, thanks. I’ve got a pretty strict organizational system going on over here, if you hadn’t noticed,” you chuckle. “But you can come to the medical examiner’s office with me in an hour or so?” 

“It’s a date, mama.” He confirms, rapping his knuckles against your desk before going back to his own workspace. You flip through a few more pages, leaving scribbled notes and wayward highlighter in the margins, before you notice something and call Garcia. 

“Good morning, peach! What can I do you for?” Garcia asks in her usual cheery tone, clearly far ahead of you in terms of cups of coffee consumed. 

“Morning,” you say to her. “Listen, something came in through the tip line last night, and it’s probably nothing, but I just have this feeling…” 

“Lay it on me,” she tells you encouragingly. 

“So, Mark Vexper is a long-term sub at the high school where all of the kids went. He didn’t go to work the day after both of the murders. He had a scheduled personal day the first day, and he called in sick the second. Like I said, probably just a coincidence--” 

“No stone left unturned, kitten! I’m on it. Buzz you when I have more.” She says, hanging up unceremoniously.

“Good catch,” Hotch says from behind you, and you startle. 

“It’s probably just a coincidence,” you brush the compliment off. 

“Maybe, but we won’t know until we look into it,” he tells you. “You feeling okay?” He asks. 

“I just really want to catch this guy and get home to our boy.” You tell him, and his heart warms. Looking around surreptitiously, he drops a quick kiss to the crown of your head. 

“Me, too, angel. We’ll get him.” He tells you. 

An unexplainable chill runs up your spine, and you have a strange feeling that Aaron’s not talking about this unsub.

tagging:  @romanogersendgame @wanniiieeee      @zheezs14      @greeneyedblondie44 @angelic-kisses13  @baumarvel @ssamorganhotchner  @ijustwannaread2k19    @rexit-mo @shmaptainhotchnersmain @qtip-blog @averyhotchner  @the-modernmary @itsmytimetoodream @choppa-style @hotforhotchner11 @infinite-tides @isthatme-thatsme @g-l-pierce @bakugouswh0r3 @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads

[elysiadjarin]

Sword and Shield 4

Tags: Bad Batch x reader (you), fem!coded, poly!relationship, multi-part series, nonhuman!reader, Echo later on

Part 3: https://elysiadjarin.tumblr.com/post/654100310923657216/sword-and-shield-3

Warnings: mentions of a rough past, otherwise none.

4: Learning Process

Closing your eyes and taking in a breath, you straightened and opened the door to the common space. You forced yourself not to freeze as you saw all four of them gathered in the room, turning to stare at you.

“Should you be up?” Tech instantly asked, eyebrows furrowing.

You shuffled into the room, then sat down on an empty chair, pulling your legs up. Looking down at your knees, you tugged at the sleeve over the arm that had been injured.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered into the tense silence.

“Why are you apologizing?” Hunter turned to you with an odd fierceness in his voice. “You kept Tech and I from getting badly injured or even killed at your own expense, but you’re apologizing? If anything, we should be apologizing to you.”

You stared up at him, eyes wide. For a moment, you tried to scoop up your scattered thoughts. “N-no,” you finally tried to stammer, trying to explain. “I- I’m- I got distracted, I- I made a mistake,” you confessed, taking in a burning breath. “Back in the vault room, I- I should have been paying attention, but I thought- I thought I’d done something wrong. I got distracted, and I should have- I should have been faster. If I’d been paying attention like I should have, we could have gotten out in time and- and-“

“What in nine Corellian hells are you talking about, Shiv?” Hunter demanded, staring at you incredulously. “What do you mean you did something wrong?”

You swallowed thickly. “You- you seemed angry, and I- I thought I’d done something wrong. I’m not- I wasn’t completely attuned to you and got distracted. I should have been quicker to find a solution, but I- I got distracted and-“ You bit your lip, frustrated at your own inability to just explain. “I could have paid attention and avoided getting anyone injured,” you whispered, looking down.

A silence fell over the room. Then Hunter let out a deep sigh. “Shiv, it’s my fault.”

Startled, you looked up at him. “Wh-“

He raised a hand, hushing you from protesting. “I was the one who distracted you. As your leader, and as... as the one who was... who was Bonded with you at the time, I shouldn’t have done something to distract or disorient you. I wasn’t mad at you, Shiv,” he said evenly, looking at you with his dark eyes. “You did everything I could have asked and more. You sacrificed your own body just to keep Tech and I from being injured. Why would I be angry with you?”

Despite yourself, tears welled in your eyes as you reached up to futilely swipe away tears. He... wasn’t angry? You knew that the 501st had been... very kind, compared to many of your previous Handlers. And you had barely realized it, but you’d automatically defaulted back to expecting the same treatment you’d always endured before the 501st had taught you differently. Yet here you were, not being punished for getting distracted.

Hunching up, you dug a palm into your eye and trembled with the effort of holding back the sobs of relief, the dull pain in your arm reminding you of your failure. “I’m sorry,” you gasped, “I- I shouldn’t be crying, I-“

You let out a gasp as you felt two giant arms wrap around you, pulling your into a surprisingly gentle hug. Looking up, you saw Wrecker’s face looking down at you.

“Hey, I thought you looked really cool out there, Shiv,” he said, voice more subdued than usual, though still pretty loud. But you appreciated the effort he seemed to be making to keep you calm. “I mean, there was that huge blast and it was super cool, and you saved the Sarge and Tech.” He grinned down at you, weathered face lighting up.

Despite yourself, you let out a little giggle at the goofy grin on his face as he recalled the blast. Sniffling, you tried to wipe away tears and focus. “Th-thank you, Wrecker,” you whispered with an exhausted smile.

He carefully set you down, and Hunter gave him a nod. “I was going to thank you for keeping us safe out there, Shiv. I understand if this incident makes you want to leave the team, but-“

“No!” You bit your lip, but shook your head adamantly. “Please, I-“ You looked down at your feet. “I’d like to stay, if you’ll... if you’ll give me another chance.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Shiv,” Hunter reiterated fiercely. “I don’t know what made you think that you did anything wrong, but I’m not angry with you.” He took in a deep breath. “Do you need any medical attention to your arm? We don’t really know... enough about you.”

You shook your head. “No, I-“ You rubbed your arm absently, still coated in the metal. “It will heal,” you said uncertainly, glancing over to the side uncomfortably. Normally people didn’t.... care if you got hurt. “Please, I can still... I can still function just fine.”

“Why do you talk like you’re some kind of slave?” Crosshair stared at you, eyes piercing.

You flinched. “I used to be,” you replied thinly, hanging your head. “Before... before the 501st took me in.”

A dead silence fell, and you could almost feel the anger palpably fill the air.

“So that’s why you-“ Hunter seemed to stop himself, breaking off. A snarl crossed his lips, then just as quickly disappeared. He let out a heavy sigh. “Shiv, you’re not a slave here, with us. You’re not just a weapon. You’re our teammate, one of us, and you’re a valuable member. You don’t have to sacrifice your own health or safety just because you feel some stupid need to or because you’re any less valuable than us.”

You listened, still fixated on the floor. You remembered the first time that Rex had given you this talk as well. Now things began to make more sense. Why Hunter had seemed angry, back in the bunker. Because he’d been like Rex, you now understood. He’d been upset that you’d called yourself a tool. He was upset about how you’d been treated.

It still felt odd to you, to realize that there were people out in the world that would see you as more than just a weapon. It was still hard to accept. Hard to grasp.

“Thank you,” you said at last, looking up at him. “I... Commander Rex and the 501st... were very kind to me and I-“ you winced. “Once I left, I... I went back to my old ways. I’m... I’m used to being nothing more than a tool. I was born a weapon. I... I’m used to being expendable.”

“You’re not expendable here. You’re not just a weapon here.” Hunter’s eyes bored into you, staring you down. “Don’t expect us to treat you as anything less than a person.”

You looked up, then, and gave him a genuine if tired smile. “Thank you, sir. I’m glad you and Tech are safe. I’ll do my best in the future to continue being a good teammate.”

He nodded curtly. “We’re going to drop off the intel we got at the next stop and let you get a bit of rest. We haven’t been assigned to anything yet.”

You looked around at everyone. “Um- should I start to... I mean, should I be prepared to start working with everyone? It might be best before the next mission to at least have Transference with everyone, so that I can easily be passed between everyone even in the middle of battle.”

“Do you have any sort of compiled profile about yourself?” Tech asked curiously.

You grimaced. “I tried that before, but everyone who’s tried to understand by reading has said that it’s not... enough. I can give it to you if you want, I should have it, but I’ve been told that while it’s informative, it’s not very useful until it’s been experienced.”

Tech nodded. “I’d still like to have a copy, if you don’t mind.”

You nodded. “Of course.” Fumbling with one hand, you tried to grab your datapad from it’s charging port. After a moment, you managed to grab it and pull up the correct page, handing it to Tech.

“Sorry, I- I won’t have full use of my other hand for another couple of chrons at the least,” you explained, pushing hair away from your eyes.

“Just take care of it until you’re not hurting yourself,” Hunter ordered, eyeing your arm sharply. “Are you sure you don’t need at lest a bacta patch?”

You smiled weakly, shaking your head. “It will heal more quickly without it, in this case. Bacta seems to leave scars on me more than letting it heal naturally. Although in an emergency I’ll use it.”

He just nodded. “We’ll be landing at the next designated spot in seven chrons.” Without another word, he ducked out the door and left, presumably to the cockpit to pilot.

“Hey Shiv, you wanna sit here?” Wrecker patted the empty spot next to him invitingly.

You hesitated, then decided to accept. After all, you’d have to get to know all of them pretty well, right? Might as well start now. Gingerly, you sat next to him, favoring your arm a little. The more you let it be, the quicker it would heal, you knew. Pulling your legs up, you leaned back in the seat, almost touching Wrecker’s side.

He casually draped his arm around the back of the chair, behind your shoulders, though not touching you. “Is this okay, Shiv?”

Startled, you blinked but nodded. “Oh- of course.”

He grinned. “Good. Wouldn’t want to make ya uncomfortable, ya know?”

“Thank you,” you whispered shyly, head ducking.

A little kernel of hope bloomed in your chest. Maybe... maybe this would be a place where you could belong.

~

Tech examined your arm closely, peering at it through your goggles. “Whoa. It’s almost completely healed,” he said wonderingly. There was some scar tissue still on your arm, but it was a far cry from the mangled mess it had been when you’d first gotten the wound.

“Is it because of the metal?” Hunter asked, glancing at your arm.

You shook your head as Tech let go of your arm. “Um, no, the metal is there mainly for protection and sterilization. My biology is not... entirely organic, so it fixes itself differently,” you offered awkwardly. “I don’t completely understand it either, as my kind is... extremely rare. I’ve only met one other of my kind.”

“So there are others.” Tech glanced up at you from his datapad. He’d apparently read the profile you’d compiled and had peppered you with questions once you’d woken up.

“I don’t know how many.” You shrugged. “Probably not very many though. We’ve been... pretty heavily enslaved or used. Worked to death, essentially.”

Hunter just grunted. Crosshair let out a quiet huff from his corner where he was polishing his rifle. Wrecker was off in the galley, getting a snack apparently.

You’d apparently slept through the drop off, and when you’d woken up you’d been informed that you had a couple of chrons left before you reached the place Hunter had decided you would train with the rest of the team. He’d made some notes to Tech about the Bonding Process from his experience, which Tech had added and already distributed to the other team members.

When you finally arrived at your destination, you felt rested and mentally and physically ready. Your arm was almost healed and no longer hurt, and you knew that it would heal fully in time for the next mission, so you wouldn’t have to worry about it being reopened somehow or interfering. A damaged weapon wouldn’t be of much help in any situation.

Following the others down the ramp, you looked around interestedly at the wide, open plains littered with some rock formations. In the distance shimmered the water of a lake, and hardy grasses waved in the slight breeze. It was a good place to train, with no one in sight and a wide line of sight. You turned your attention back to Hunter, who led the way away from the ship a safe distance before turning.

“Alright.” He nodded to you. “Is there a specific order that we should do this in?”

You shook your head. “Anything works.”

“I can go first,” Wrecker offered, stepping forward. He grinned at you excitedly, and you instinctively smiled back. You appreciated the way Wrecker had treated you so far, the way he was cheerful and smiling but also thoughtful in the way he approached you.

“That alright, Shiv?” Hunter addressed you.

You nodded, stepping forward to meet Wrecker. “Sure.”

“Alright Wrecker, do you remember the process?” Hunter asked.

Wrecker’s smile dropped, eyebrows furrowing and mouth opening a little in clear thought.

You stifled a smile. “Keep your mind open towards whatever you feel. You have to start the process by offering me your hand and saying ‘Permission to Transfer,’” you reminded.

“Oh, right!” He laughed, then stuck out his hand. “Permission to Transfer,” he bellowed.

You took his hand, closing your eyes. “Transfer Granted.”

Wrecker was the easiest Transfer you could remember in a long time. He was so unguarded mentally towards you, his thoughts blasting. They were coherent and clearly linked, just... loud, and fast. You found yourself taking a bit longer to settle into the Bond, stabilizing the flow of information and ‘tuning in’ to his mental frequency.

By the time you could focus outward, you realized with a bit of surprise that you’d actually automatically become an IWS in instant response to Wrecker’s preferences. Wrecker let out a pure, joyful laugh, then aimed at a nearby rock formation and sent a rocket hurtling towards it. He whooped in the aftermath of the explosion, effortlessly tossing you in the air and catching you as though you barely weighed anything.

You had to smile a little, materializing over his shoulder. You leaned your chin against his shoulder, quickly getting comfortable with the steady stream of information he kept feeding over the Bond as naturally as though he had been doing it for years. Weapons seemed to be something that came to Wrecker naturally, as well as using them. You found yourself fading away and falling into a comfortable, natural rhythm as he did a little target practice. His weapons of choice were pretty standard, and you even got to Shift into some lesser used heavy weaponry.

It was comfortable, to just lean back and be fed information in a steady, constant stream. Wrecker’s weapon handling was expert, though to others it might seem that he just randomly moved and fired. But you could see the natural nuances that he used to sight, aim, lift, and fire.

Wrecker stopped after a couple of weapons. “This is really easy, Shiv!” He laughed. “You doing ok? I can kinda feel ya there.”

You let yourself shimmer into view again, comfortably rested against his shoulder. Your voice came out wispy and almost dreamy, a reflection of your mental state.

“You’re very natural with being a Handler,” you murmured, hands sliding over his shoulder. Shadowy fingers trailed down his arm, brushing against his armor. “It’s very comfortable and... relaxed.” You giggled, feeling a little loopy from the giddiness that he kept pouring over the Bond. “Your thoughts are... constant, fast.”

“Oh, uh... I guess that’s a good thing?” Wrecker scratched the back of his head.

You Dissolved the Transference, landing next to Wrecker. Reaching up, you rubbed your eyes and blinked a little sleepily, letting out a wide yawn.

“Yea,” you slurred, shaking your head. “Sorry, it’s...” You gave him a lopsided smile. “You’re a very natural Handler. I’m feeling a bit high,” you giggled. “I’m very.... I tend to be influenced quite a bit by my Handlers’ emotions.”

Wrecker steadied you. “Glad to hear it! It felt really comfortable.” He shrugged. “It felt different from what you said, Sarge,” he remarked thoughtfully.

“It’s a bit different for everyone,” you said, starting to recover your senses. Shaking your head, you took in a bracing breath and looked up. “I’m ready.”

Tech hesitantly stepped forward. “I can go-?”

You nodded, stepping toward him.

He took in a deep breath. “Permission to Transfer.” He held out his hand, a determined look on his face.

You took his hand. “Transfer Granted.”

The moment you felt the Bond click into place, you mentally reeled. It was a barrage of... everything. Tech’s mind was constantly whirling, moving through thoughts, processing things, almost a nervous babble of information. You tried to process, to find a way to join the stream that rushed on and on, thoughts disappearing as quickly as they came.

Calm down, Tech, you whispered, trying to infuse a sense of relaxation into the words. There’s no need to be nervous. There’s no perfect way of Transference. It’s up to me to assimilate to you, to learn about you. Just be yourself. It’s just me... just Shiv.

You could feel Tech let out a breath, and the stream seemed to slacken a little. Just enough for you to ease yourself in, to begin to process and adjust to the new stream-of-consciousness. Tech’s thoughts ran into each other seamlessly, one thought clearly linked to the next. He had both visualization as well as full words and sentences, something you recognized as being a sign of Tech’s proficiency in using both sides of the brain equally.

You prefer double blasters, right? You recalled.

A tentative thought slithered its way through the stream as you picked it out. Yes... is that... possible?

You smiled. You are my Handler, now. Slowly, you let yourself shimmer into view. Sliding your hands down both his arms, you turned to whisper into his ear. What do you need me to be?

Tech stared down at both his hands, and between one blink and the next, he was grasping another blaster in his left hand. He offered a few schematics and modifications, letting you quickly adjust. Then turning, he focused on some rubble that Wrecker had created and began to pick them off, one by one. A few of the initial shots missed, but as you began to find his rhythm, he began to easily hit every single target he shot at.

By the time he lowered the blasters, you’d begun to understand his process. Tech was a true analyst, his movements clearly thought-out and calculated, the opposite of Wrecker. Wrecker’s movements came naturally, hardly without thought. Tech’s mind, however, made razor-sharp recognitions and calculations, thinking a step ahead as much as possible. It was simply a matter of learning to find his pattern and learn to predict it and run with it.

In the back of your own mind, you began to realize the work cut out for you. If you happened to be tossed from Wrecker to Tech in the middle of the battle, it would be like making a 180 degree shift within the space of a breath. It wasn’t impossible, but you knew it would take a close understanding of each of them, their thought processes, their preferences, and their individual personalities to truly perfect yourself as their personal weapons.

You Dissolved, the two blasters once more converging into one as you reappeared physically. For a moment you simply froze, staring blankly ahead as you regained yourself. Shaking your head, you blinked and refocused, looking back up.

“Ambidextrous,” you said almost without thinking. “Physically and mentally.” You shook yourself off. “Sorry, it’s... it’s a bit challenging to keep up.” You smiled at Tech. “Your mind is... so fast. There’s so much. It’s very impressive.”

He blinked, and you wondered if that was some color staining the tips of his ears. “Thank you,” he said.

“Guess it’s my turn.” Crosshair grunted, stepping towards you. He eyed you warily, eyes flint.

You turned to him. “I’ll do my best.”

He held out his hand. “Permission to Transfer.”

You grasped his hand, feeling the calloused palm under your own skin. “Permission Granted.”

Silence. Compared to the others, Crosshair was just... utter silence. The Bond was there, you could feel it, but there was just... darkness and silence. But it didn’t surprise you, after you took a moment to think about it. You’d worked with a sniper once before. They distanced themselves, so far.

So you didn’t say anything, simply waited.

After a moment, a single visual came across. A detailed schematic for the rifle, including the mods.

It only took you half a second to instantly respond, the rifle seeming to just appear in his hands. He carefully studied the rifle, lifting it to stare through the scope and aiming in a few directions. You stayed quiet, ready to instantly respond to anything, trying to remember everything in Crosshair’s profile and the previous sniper you’d worked with.

Crosshair abruptly turned and fired several shots, peering down the scope. A few other modifications appeared across the bond, and you Shifted seamlessly between his steady shots. He hit every single target, every single time. No emotion came across the Bond, only a split-second visual of the intended target and any adjustments.

He lowered the rifle after a few more shots. “Your response time is satisfactory,” he said aloud, turning the rifle over in his hands. “I’ll have to get used to your presence. I keep feeling like there’s someone behind me.”

You hesitated a moment before speaking. “Would it be better if I kept a shadow beside you, or just stayed invisible?”

“Try the shadow,” he said, lifting the rifle again.

You projected astrally, hovering just beside his shoulder.

He paused. “A little forward.”

You adjusted, realizing that you might have been in his blind spot.

“Other shoulder.” After another moment and a few shots, he nodded. “Better. Once I get used to your fixed location, it shouldn’t be a problem.”

You nodded, Dissolving the bond. With a wince, you clapped your hands over your ears and squeezed your eyes shut with a tiny whimper. Everything kept bursting in your senses, a sharp contrast compared to the utter silence and deprivation of Crosshair’s mind. Letting out a gasp, you dropped down and hunched close to the ground, scraping yourself together.

“Shiv!”

You shook your head. “I’m fine-“ you blurted shakily. “I’m fine- I just- it’s been so long since I’ve worked with a sniper, I-“ Sucking in a breath, you started to come back to, getting used to the normalcy again. Slowly standing, you leaned gratefully against Wrecker’s arm.

“You’ve worked with a sniper before?” Crosshair asked, eyebrows furrowing.

You nodded, peeling your eyes open. “Y-yes. But it’s been many years, since I was a child. Both of you have... your minds are like... like sensory deprivation tanks. It’s- I have to- to get used to it. I think like- like Sergeant Hunter experiences.” You shook your head, taking deep breaths.

“You alright?” Hunter asked, observing you carefully.

You straightened, nodding. “Yes. Could we try passing?”

He nodded. “Who do you want to start with?”

“You, please,” you requested, sending Wrecker a grateful smile. He grinned back and nodded, patting your arm.

“Permission to Transfer.”

You took Hunter’s hand. “Transfer Granted.”

“So, how do we pass?” Hunter asked as soon as he was holding the modified blaster in his hand.

“Just warn me who you’re passing to at least mentally,” you directed, materializing over his shoulder. “That way, even if you throw, I can direct myself to the person you’re intending to pass me to. It also helps me prepare myself to acclimate to the next person and try to predict what weapon and modifications they will want from me so they don’t have to waste time waiting for me to finish Shifting. I can Shift mid-throw. Or you could hand me over.”

Hunter nodded. Without warning, he sent you a name and whipped his arm back. “Cross!” he shouted.

You Shifted mid-throw, allowing your astral form to dart across the space and directing the rifle to Crosshair’s hand. He caught it, instantly lifting it to his shoulder. Taking a quick shot at a rock formation and hitting the target, he sent a single name across again.

“Tech,” he warned, sending you into a tail-spin.

You darted over to Tech, splitting mid-air to guide yourself into both his hands seamlessly. Tech spun, shooting quickly at two pebbles on a rock formation and knocking them off. He didn’t even turn around before slamming the two pieces together and tossing them over his head.

“Wrecker,” he shouted, though you’d already started Shifting.

Wrecker caught the IWS, hefting it effortlessly above his head. “That was pretty quick,” he said, firing a random shot into the distance. “You good, Shiv?”

You Dissolved, pressing fingers to your temple. “Yeah, I’m... I’m trying to get the hang of it. It might take me a couple of tries to be able to get better. It’s... it’s difficult to keep track.” A migraine started to build in the back of your brain, making you hide a wince.

“Well we’ve already at least formed a good foundation, so let’s give Shiv a break for now and head back to the ship,” Hunter decided, turning on his heel and heading back for the ship.

You took a step forwards and lost footing, pitching forward. Wrecker caught you before you hit the ground, making you gasp. He lifted you up.

“Whoa there, Shiv. You good?” he asked, holding you easily as you grabbed his shoulders for balance.

“A little- I- disoriented,” you managed, still reeling and dizzy. “I-I’m a bit- dizzy from-“ You winced, closing your eyes and burying your face into his shoulder. “Sorry- everything is- I’m going into sensory overload,” you stammered, feeling jittery.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll take you back to your bunk,” he said cheerfully, his steps long and steady as he walked back to the ship.

Your breath started to stutter as you felt sleep quickly creeping up on you. “Thank you, Wrecker,” you managed to whisper thickly, before the darkness descended irresistibly.

[reidingmelodies]

The Date Jar: February

Pairing: Spencer Reid x gn!Reader Category: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff Word Count: 3.5k Includes: Mentions and consumption of food, brief discussions of a case (no specifics are given) A/N:  Part of The Date Jar series, but can be read as a stand-alone piece as well :)

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‘Time to let that inner creativity shine!  Plan a date for $20 or less (and tell me all about it xoxo)’ Your brows wrinkled at the phrase, fingers twirling the yellow popsicle in your hand as you looked out the window.  

It was February 3rd, you were missing Spencer, and your mind was a blank slate when it came to date ideas.

Spencer had been called away on a case eight days prior, his and your moods worsening with every second spent away from the other.  It was a bad one, there was no doubt about it.  It was obvious in the way his voice was tinged with exhaustion each time he managed to call you, in the way he made it a point to text you that he missed you every day regardless of the time, in the way he never answered questions about his day, all too eager to hide the disparity of the case from you to keep you from worrying.

But he was the love of your life- worrying came with the job description.

So, when you got a text from Penelope in the late evening hours warning you that the team was on their way back and Spencer would probably need a little extra loving that night, you didn’t hesitate to drop everything in favor of prepping for your reunion with Spencer.

Cups of tea were made (because even though you knew he’d prefer coffee what he’d really need was chamomile), your softest blankets and comfiest pillows were brought into the living room, and Dr. Who was playing softly on the television in front of you. The lights were dimmed, a pair of pajamas resting on the cushion awaiting his return, two containers of Jell-O situated on the coffee table.

Now, all you needed was his safe return.

Somehow, in your waiting, you had ended up in front of the window, popsicle stick in hand while you thought of ideas for your monthly date.  The task was simple, but the opportunities were endless, and you were stumped.

Spencer had insisted that you pick the date jar stick for February without him present, an idea you were vehemently against until he proposed video chatting once he was back in his hotel room so you could do it together (you really had to thank Penelope for her tech influence on him).  

Sure enough on the night of February 1st, you got a video call at 11:57 PM, your eyes bleary with sleep as you hit accept.  

And all too soon, your eyes were bleary with tears as you caught sight of Spencer’s face.

You missed him, plain and simple.  You were used to spending time apart but being accustomed to something certainly didn’t make it any easier to accept.

The ten-minute chat was the epitome of bliss, both of you purposely avoiding talk of work in favor of brainstorming twenty-dollar dates.

A bookstore?  There’s no way you’d only spend twenty dollars.  The park?  We wouldn’t spend a dime.  A diner? Too typical.  

You knew an idea would come to you sooner than later, especially when Spencer was home and safe in your arms and your brain could rest.  

For now, there was an overworked, exhausted man in dire need of a hug making his way into the apartment, and all thoughts of the date were abandoned in favor of him.

The door opened, Spencer’s slouched figure making his way into the entryway.  The bags under his eyes were prevalent from across the room, his rigid expression making way for a slight grin when he locked eyes with you.

Your legs swiftly carried you home, your arms making their way around his neck as he dropped his satchel in favor of holding your waist.

You stayed like that for what could’ve been five minutes or two hours, all too content swaying to the beat of Spencer’s heartbeat, his lips pressed against your hair.

“Missed you so much,” he murmured, breaking the silence and squeezing you impossibly closer in the process.

“Missed you too, Spence. More than you’ll ever know”.

A lingering kiss was placed on your head in response, Spencer’s arms slightly pulling back as he moved to examine you.  You did the same, taking note of the permanent frown etched on his features.  

“What do you need, baby?” you whispered, hand gently moving to trace his cheek.

“Just you,” he responded, sleep evident in his voice.

You nodded, grabbing his hand and directing him towards the couch.  Wordlessly, you handed him his pajamas and he changed into them right then and there, determinedly unwilling to be without you for the foreseeable future.

He collapsed onto the couch when he was done, forgoing the heap of blankets at the end of the sofa and opening his arms for you instead.  You quickly obliged, your head settling against his chest as his fingers mindlessly traced along your spine.

“It was a rough one,” his voice was low, your ears straining to hear him, “we weren’t able to save the last victim”.

You nodded solemnly, heart instantaneously breaking for the victim, for their family, for the team, for Spencer.  He was telling you as a means of an explanation rather than a means of a conversation, a fact you were well aware of after spending one too many nights like this, your arms wrapped around each other as though you were lifelines unwaveringly keeping the other afloat.

And so, you settled closer to him, head resting against his chest, legs heavily intertwined until his deep breaths filled the entirety of the room.  And when you were convinced he was asleep, at peace, and most importantly safe, you allowed your own eyes to close, your body finally resting serenely for the first time in eight days.

***

You awoke the next morning to a pillow underneath your head where Spencer had previously rested, your body jolting up in fear that he was prematurely called on another case.  But your worries were quickly put to rest at the sound of humming coming from the kitchen, your body filled with a mixture of relief and excitement at the sound.

You rose from your spot on the couch, body stretching in a useless attempt to make away with the aches that accumulated during the night.

It was worth it though. You’d sleep on a pile of rocks for Spencer if the situation called for it.

After your failed attempt, you made your way to the kitchen, eager to see your lover in daylight hours.

His back was to you, his blue flannel pajama pants and oversized white t-shirt looking oh so inviting as you burrowed yourself into his back, his posture instantly relaxed at the feel of your warmth against his.

“Morning, Y/N”.

You smiled into his shirt, pressing a kiss to his shoulder blade.  “Morning, Spence.  What are you up to?”

“I figured I’d make you breakfast, but then I remembered I don’t have the greatest track record in the kitchen, so I settled on toast with jam instead,” he shifted his body so you were face to face, your expression lighting up with mirth at the sheepish look he was sporting.

“Mm wise choice, we don’t want a repeat of last time”.

He groaned, remembering how your neighbors called the fire station when they smelled smoke coming from your apartment a few months prior.  He was trying to surprise you with a homemade meal in celebration of your promotion, but instead, you came home to an apologetic Spencer, a concerned neighbor, and a stern firefighter.  Not quite the celebration you were hoping for.

Cheeks still red but desperate to change the subject, his hand found yours in an instant. 

“Thank you for last night, Y/N.  I’m sorry you had to deal with that”.

“Don’t ever apologize, Spencer- that’s what I’m here for.  You’d do the same for me, right?” At his nod you continued, “then it’s settled.  We’re a team- I was just fulfilling my half of the bargain”.

He chuckled, playfully rolling his eyes at you.  “Only you would call our relationship a bargain”.

“Mm well it was the best deal I’ve ever gotten- walked into a museum and came out with a bookmark and a boyfriend!  I mean c’mon Spence, even you have to admit that’s a bargain”.

His lips softly met yours in response, and you watched as he pulled away slightly, leaving your foreheads brushing.  “I love you. And I still feel bad I bought the last copy of the book you wanted that day”.

You closed the gap once more, letting your lips linger for a few seconds, pulling away when the grumble of your stomach interrupted the otherwise quiet room.  “I love you, too, babe.  And don’t feel bad- now that we live together, I can read it every day if I want to.  It was all part of my master plan”.

His eyebrows rose, fingers wiggling in your direction as he moved to tickle your sides.  An uproarious laugh left your lips in response, immediately jumping backwards and retracting your statement.

“Okay, okay I lied! The book was just a bonus”.

He smirked, pulling you against him and letting his fingers dance along your sides for a moment, both of your laughs echoing throughout the room.

The impromptu tickle session was cut short at the sound of your stomach grumbling once again, his newfound mission of making you toast and a cup of coffee taking centerstage.  He released you with a gentle kiss on your forehead, your figure immediately moving to stand by his side.  Your fingers moved along his arm, gently toying with the sleeve of his white t-shirt on the ascent and fiddling with his wrist on the descent.

Toast made and coffee poured in matching ‘I ♡ Vegas!’ mugs, you and Spencer found yourself situated at the kitchen counter, dangling feet bumping into each other at every opportunity.  

His eyes were skimming over his book while yours were tracing the mug closest to you, smiling in recollection at the memory of Diana sending them to you a week after your first visit along with a note saying she wanted to get you something as colorful as the rainbow you saw out her window.

Wait.  That was it.

Your eyes turned to Spencer, taking in the way his white tee shirt hung from his frame.  He had dozens like it in your bedroom, the shirts a trusted go to when he had to pack pajamas in a rushed go bag.  

It wouldn’t hurt to add a pop of color to a few of them.

Penelope said you had to spend $20 or less on a date- and if you used clothes you already had, you were almost positive you could buy tie dye materials and have money to spare.

“What are you thinking about, sweetheart?” his question cuts through your thoughts, your eyes meeting his to find nothing but love.

“You have a lot of white tee shirts”.

With that, love made way for utter confusion.

“Um…yes?”  His brow furrows, watching as you moved the mug into his line of sight before jogging towards the living room.

Your return was marked with his fingers tracing the sides of the mug, every inch of his being determined to figure out what had you so fascinated.

Plopping down next to him, you place the date jar stick next to the coffee, moving your legs until they rested against his calves.

“What if we did tie dye for our February date?”

“With my clothes?”

Your features soften, taking his question as a sign of hesitation.  “Only if you’re okay with it, otherwise we can find some on sale?  Or we can always do something else if this isn’t’-”

You trailed off as his left hand found your cheek, looking up to find his eyes already on you.

“We can use mine, love. I think it’s a great idea, and I wear them to bed anyway so it’s not like anyone really sees them,” he watched as a smile overtook your features before continuing, “we can do some of yours too! And maybe some plain white socks? I think we both have some buried in our drawers”.

“Oh and we can do a pair of your boxers!” you added, positively giddy at the thought.

Spencer, on the other hand, was not.

“My boxers?  Isn’t that weird?”  His lips were pursed, his hands protectively moving to cover his thighs.

You smirked, right hand moving to cover his.  “I don’t think so, it’s not like anyone’s gonna see them besides me, baby- unless Penelope hacks into my photo album again”.

You both shuddered at the thought, heat rushing to your cheeks as you remembered the shrieks she let out the last time she looked through your photos (and the ‘atta boy’s’ Derek graced Spencer with).

You shook your head, willing the memory to a far corner of your mind before squeezing Spencer’s palm.

“So, babe, what do you say? Tie dye for our date?”  You watched as his lips curled into a smile, his teeth swiftly biting his lower lip before he responded.

“Only if you dye a few pairs of your underwear, too”

That was already a given, but he didn’t need to know that.

“You’ve got yourself a deal, Spencer”.

***

You went to the store for supplies the following Saturday while Spencer mess proofed your living room floor. $18.65 later, and you were armed with a tie dye kit, two squeeze bottles, pancake mix, and a basic food dye set. The kit only cost $9.99 and sticking with the theme of the day you figured colorful pancakes were the way to go.

Surely, there wouldn’t be another kitchen incident if you were there to help Spencer.

You walked into the door, instantly greeted by a plastic tarp placed on the floor and covered in an assortment of tee shirts, underwear, socks, and pillowcases.  Spencer was amid the pile, face beaming as he placed a white bedsheet on top of the pile.

“I figured we may as well go all out, right?  Go big or go home or something like that?”

You laughed, nodding your head in his direction while you walked into the kitchen.  “That’s the spirit, Spence!”  Pancake supplies placed on the counter, you grabbed the tie dye kit and two glasses of water before taking your rightful seat next to your boyfriend on the floor.

“Ready for this, babe?”

He enthusiastically nodded, inching closer to you to help set up the dyes.  “Mm-hmm.  Did you know that the origin of tie dye traces back to the 6th century, with the first recorded instances taking place during both the T’ang Dynasty and the Nara Period?”

You looked up at him, admiring the way he licked his lips while he awaited your answer, his fingers fiddling with the top of one of the bottles of dye.

God, you were so in love with him and the infinite amount of knowledge he seemed to possess.

“That’s really cool! So, what did they use as their dye?” You questioned, eyes solely focused on your favorite view- his face lighting up every time you asked him to elaborate on one of his fun facts.

“Well, it’s quite interesting, actually,” he began, “they used natural dyes and essences from things like berries, flowers, and leaves”.

You grinned, adding the final bottle of dye to the pile that had accumulated at your feet.  “Maybe next time we can try that method”.

He nodded in agreement, placing a kiss on your forehead before reaching for a tee shirt.

“Okay, so where do we start?”

He observed as you put rubber bands around one of his tee shirts, blotching up the fabric in a series of places to allow the dye to spread.  Pink, purple, and red dye was splashed across the material, your glove covered hands coming in handy as you twisted and folded the shirt with each splash.

Once you were satisfied with the design, you laid it on the corner of the tarp, leaning up to give Spencer a quick kiss on his pursed lips before reaching for the next item.  He followed suit, and together you worked to the sound of giggles, bundles of socks, underwear, and shirts joining the line of finished products.

Taking a break, you watched as he mixed every color on one of his tee shirts, the colors bleeding together until they resembled the color of mud.

“Spencer!” his name came out of your mouth in a breathy huff, your smile uncontained as your hand moved to pick up the material and observe it for yourself.  

Secretly, he knew it looked awful, and he was sure whoever roomed with him on the next case would agree.

But, he also knew he’d do anything to keep that smile on your face- even if it made him the most unfashionable agent in the FBI.

“I for one think it’s gorgeous, Y/N”.

“Everything looks gorgeous on you, babe, so I’ve gotta say I’m inclined to agree”.

All this time together and his cheeks still flushed every time you complimented him.

“Can I ask you something?” The serious tone of his voice was enough to drop the smile off your face, especially when you noticed the wrinkle that had developed between his eyebrows as he awaited your response.

“Anything.  You can always ask me anything, baby”.

He took a deep breath, moving to take one of his gloves off as you mirrored his action.  Uncovered hands clasped together, you squeezed his hand between yours, giving him the time he needed to gather his thoughts.

“Do you- do you think we’ll do this with our kids one day?”  His voice was quiet, and if the room wasn’t as still as it was you would have missed the question.

It was something you had discussed in passing before, midnight pillow talk turned into discussions about future children and Punnett squares as you daydreamed of a life with the pitter patter of little feet.  Children that were made from love and taught to be kind to others, shoot for the stars, and make their mark on the world.  But, this was the first time the discussion breached daytime hours.

You pulled the other glove from your hand, motioning him closer to you as you grasped his cheeks, your eyes fully situated on each other’s.

“There’s nothing I want more, Spencer.  You’re gonna be the greatest dad one day, I just know it”.  He closed the gap between your lips at your statement, his kiss swimming with love, respect, and excitement.

You broke apart when the need to breathe became too strong, resting your forehead against his while your fingers played with the strands of hair resting at the nape of his neck.

“I have something else we can do with our future children in the kitchen, actually,” you began as you stood, leaving the mess of tie dye materials for later, all too eager to get a move on with your plans for the day.

Spencer followed suit, mind swirling with possibilities.  “Is this a good thing to do with our kids or a bad thing?”

You laughed, sneaking a peak over your shoulder at him.  “It’s a good thing!  At least I think it is.  You’ll probably hate it”.

“That’s reassuring”.

You laughed, clutching his hand in yours as you approached the kitchen.  “Ta-da!  I got some stuff to make rainbow pancakes, I figured we can layer the bottles with colors and try to make tie dye pancakes for dinner to stick with the theme”.

“You and I have very different ideas of fun- do you not remember the kitchen incident?” He shook his head with a chuckle, his actions contradicting his words as he gathered bowls to mix pancake mix and dye.

You worked together in the peaceful glow of the afternoon sun, your fingers leaving trails of colorful batter on each other’s faces with a mixture of kisses and belly laughs in between.

He bit his lip in concentration as he worked to make the perfect pile of pancakes, each slightly burnt around the edges and raw in the middle but a massive improvement from having to call the fire department.  His consisted of circles, ovals, and squares while you wrote out ‘I ♡ U’ in a sea of colors, turning the pan towards him so he could see your creation.

“I love you, too, sweetheart,” he sealed his words with a kiss, leaning closer as you took the opportunity to let out a confession of your own.

“I can’t wait until the day we tie dye our entire house with our hypothetical children and feed them rainbow pancakes for dinner, Spence”.

A life full of love and a house filled to the brim with happiness- it was all he ever wanted, and in this moment with you, streaks of red pancake batter splattered across both of your cheeks, he knew he was already there.

“I can’t wait either, Y/N”.

Young Spencer Reid would be proud.

***

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[bleufrost]

There's Just Time (A Loki x reader Fanfic)

Chapter One: We've Met Before

Summary: You were an explosion waiting to happen who found love in the arms of a hurricane. Loki saw you as an angel that calmed his demons. For you, he was a savior that taught you to trust your abilities, yourself, and others. When he died, you were broken. You clung to any hope possible and watched as it all fell away. With nothing left, stories from your youth flooded back of a mysterious force that controlled time and space, and you knew that you would do anything to see him again...even if that something meant teaming up with the Time Variance Authority to capture the man you love.

A series of murders catch Mobius' eye. A familiar face catches yours.

Words: 3,118

Warnings: grief, mentions of self harm, death

Prologue

If you'd searched the whole wide world

Would you dare to let it go?

The pews of this church were far less comfortable than you could have possibly imagined. You let your feet dangle for a moment before pushing them up on to the pew in front of you. A bored yawn echoes in the empty halls and your eyes fall closed as the workers around you continue to struggle to make sense of the scene. When you try to breathe, you notice that the air is far too still.

“It’s great to see you making yourself useful.” The soft sound of shoes stop steadily next to your seat. With an annoyed huff, you push your feet down and sit up, looking at Mobius.

“I could be far more useful if you’d let me use my goddamn powers.” He sighs and stares down at his watch. “You know I can’t do that. Now come on, you’re a smart kid. What does this all look like to you?”

Your eyes don’t leave him for a few seconds. There was a time where you would have tried to run off; take what you needed to jump from place to place and find Loki on your own. Not now though. You know these people are far more powerful than they let on. You know that you need them if you’re ever going to see him again.

With that in mind, you walk over to the candlelit section, Mobius following closely behind. The bodies are spread out on the floor, each with wounds in a pattern far too familiar. Gunshots were never your forte. Stab wounds on the other hand, you were taught well by the best on how to both treat and inflict.

“They were stabbed.” He nods and squats down to inspect the wounds of one body more closely.

“They’re all consistent with the others. Look at the position of the bodies.” Your eyes glance over each of them. Some look defensive, but in a sudden way. Almost as if…”They didn’t know something was coming to them until it was too late. It was a blindside.” Mobius rises and pats your shoulder. It makes you uncomfortable, he’s trying desperately to be your friend and you don’t really know why. You both knew you weren’t here because it was your first option.

“That makes six attacks this week.” Your fingers tingle with the need to feel something. If you could just tap into the energy here, it could make everything so much easier. There is endless knowledge in the atmosphere of a room, especially one where such horrific things occurred. It was infuriating that they you couldn’t use a part of yourself that you had learned to depend on.

“Those are just the ones we know of.” Mobius walks around the side of the room again, just in time for your frustration to bubble over. You stare him down and, even without your abilities, you know he can feel the anger that courses through you.

“I thought you guys were all knowing.” You step toward Mobius and one of the soldiers lifts his gun. Mobius quickly puts a hand up to order him to stand down. He walks closer to you, arms up in attempt to defuse the situation. His patience pisses you off even more.

“This is a variant we’re talking about. You know better than most that those aren’t so well regulated.” He watches you closely as your jaw clenches. He’s right and you know it. It’s just felt like an eternity since any sign of Loki has come up. You were on edge, without your powers, and working with people you didn’t fully trust. Playing it cool was the only way to keep your position as Mobius’ partner though, and you had to remember that.

“Right.” You nod and turn away right as the shuffle of feet sounds from down the hall. A small child runs by and Mobius follows, along with a few of the crew. You’re not so quick to see what’s going on though. Right now, you need to think. The bodies around you were alarming. The stab wounds even more so. There was no way that Mobius didn't recognize the same signs you did, but you weren't about to broadcast it with the small chance that he didn't already know.

You had been working with Mobius for a little while now. You weren’t exactly sure how long because time has a weird tendency to move differently at the TVA. It was long enough to establish that, while you weren’t the most fond of him, he held a certain faith in you that the others lacked. Still, something was off, you just didn’t know what yet.

That’s what made all of this even more concerning. If your suspicions were even close to correct about the recent murders…you knew where your loyalties were held, and it wasn’t with Mobius or the TVA. Loki was somewhere out there. For a brief moment, before you had your powers stripped from you, you could almost feel him. It was the connection to his energy that tethered you to him when you first met, and it was a similar one to what called you to him back at the revisit to New York. There was something that kept hope in you that he was still alive, and the feeling stayed with you until the moment you entered the TVA.

Every once in a while, out here in the field, you think you can still feel little shards of it.

Your mind stops wandering when you see Mobius take something from the child to be examined. It was a little blue package, but the glowing teeth on the child are what really catch your eye. You make it just in time to see the kid point out the stained-glass imagery of the devil. Horns protrude from his head like a crown. It all felt too familiar: the god-like being, horned crown, stab wounds, and tricky nature of a blind attack. The anger, the mistrust. Your eyes can’t seem to tear away for a second, but when they do, you can’t help but stare at this kid. Something was definitely not right. Why was he so calm?

Mobius watches you from his place by the doorway and takes it all in. You can see it when you look back at him; the knowing look he gives you. It’s unsettling to think that your thoughts are so easily deciphered when you don’t have your shield to hide behind. He doesn’t ask any questions though, and for that you’re almost grateful. He says something else to the kid, but you aren’t listening anymore.

“Alright, let’s head out.” Mobius takes your arm and guides you back to the main hall. Part of you thinks these little gestures are to establish trust. Mobius truly has given you no real reason to dislike him. As a person, he appears inherently good. Without your ability to read him though, you never know what to trust. The fact that they seem adamant to keep them from you, while not his decision, makes you weary of the whole organization.

“Any of that seem odd to you?” He looks between your face and the rest of the room quickly. You know he’s trying to make it seem like he’s not watching you that closely, even though he is. Keeping your face as steady as you can, you choose your words carefully. Focus on the gum, not the horns. Not the stab wounds.

“Yeah, the gum was weird as shit. Definitely not the usual candy for this time period.” You brush his arm off of you and move your body around to feign looking over the church in attempt to hide the action. “You never know though, they might be more modern than we think.” He watches you with a straight face that breaks out into a smile instantly. Mobius nods and grins at you.

“I agree. No time variance there.” His voice is sarcastic and playful in that moment, but his face falls serious again. “What about the devil?”

You do everything in your power to not flinch or make any indication of discomfort at the question. “What about the devil? I feel like it could be a clue, but it could also just be some kid who learned from a very early age that any evil is done by a creature with hooves who lives in hell.” He continues to watch you and you continue to be as nonchalant as possible.

Finally, he nods. “Maybe.” Mobius turns and you pause to breathe for a moment before following him back to the TVA.

Upon your arrival, things move incredibly fast. Thoughts of the case are abandoned in favor of a much more urgent matter.

A call came in immediately. Before you even had a moment to settle yourself back into the usually stale atmosphere of TVA headquarters, Mobius was rushing you into a room. You almost miss the fact that the air is not stale in the slightest; in fact, it almost felt as though it was crackling with electricity.

“I need to know that you won’t do anything stupid.” The words left his mouth with urgency. The constant glances over his shoulder to the awaiting hall a clear sign that he knew something you didn’t.

Your eyebrows scrunch in confusion, “What are you talking about?” He turns and paces the floor. Once. Twice. Three times before his movements halt.

“The Loki you know isn’t here. He never will be. You understand that, right?” His device flashes in his hand. You don’t know what the flashes mean, but you do know what he’s implying. Loki’s here. Somewhere in this building. In the same general place that you are. Loki is here.

Mobius continues to wait for a response. His foot taps with impatience. “When I took you in, we promised each other that our partnership wasn’t over when we found him. You can’t go rogue on me or this is all over for everyone, do you understand?”

Your breaths come out in rapid little puffs as your mind tries to wrap itself around the unspoken truth here. Mobius is right in theory. This isn’t the Loki you knew at the time you lost him originally. This Loki is still afraid. He’s angry, hurt, confused, and so far from trusting you. Where Mobius is wrong though, is in thinking you aren’t familiar with him at all. You know Loki in all forms, and if it takes a little extra time to make up for lost memories, that would be more than okay with you.

“Hey, I need an answer.” Mobius’ voice was barely registering with you, but you heard it. He’s on edge and you almost panic at the thought of potentially not seeing Loki as soon as possible if Mobius doesn’t think you can handle it.

“I understand and I’m not going to do anything stupid.” You can’t speak the words fast enough and as Mobius searches your eyes for any sign of deceit, you know all he sees is honest desperation. You would do anything to be with him again. That’s the truth.

With an affirming nod, Mobius leads the way to a section you recognize as the courtroom.

The air here is thick, almost unbreathable. The crackles turn to little sparks as you near the doors. How is it that in a place that banishes magic, Loki can still make the ghost of yours come to life? To say that you aren’t prepared to see him again would be an understatement. You traveled through time itself to be near him again, but the prospect of achieving that goal never actually felt like a fantasy you could fully entertain. How very like him to bring your wildest dreams to fruition in the most obscure of moments. Your thoughts all come to a sudden halt when you hear the faint sound of the most narcissistic angel to ever utter a word.

“…because they traveled through time. No doubt in a last ditch effort to stave off my ascent to god king,” Your mouth falls open in silent shock. Of course the first thing you hear from him in years is an accusation, you assume, to have you arrested instead of him.

Your gaze falls on him and you feel a weight lift off your shoulders as you see him, truly see him, moving, speaking, and having just as big a flair for the dramatics as usual. He’s here. He’s alive. He’s okay.

Mobius nudges you to follow him and you both attempt to silently take your seats in the rows lining the courtroom. Your heart pangs as Loki mentions Tony, but you sit and listen, nonetheless. He continues to argue with the judge, bringing up your old team and reminding you of just how much things have changed irreparably.

“Perhaps you can provide me with a task force and resources, and I can return and eliminate them for you.” His hands are spread confidently, but they immediately fall when you let out a short laugh. The comment caught you off guard and a part of you loved that he still thought he could squash your team so easily. Even after all that happened in New York, he never gave up and you loved that about him; even if his determination was a bit misplaced at the moment. Loki is nothing if not confident in his abilities to charm and disarm.

Your hands fly to your mouth immediately when you realize that the majority of the courtroom is staring at you.

That’s when it happens. His gaze pierces into you like a dagger, sharp and oh so welcome to do whatever damage it pleases. Your hand goes down, stopping at your chest where you can feel your heart pounding. Tears slowly well up in your eyes, but you blink them away as quickly as they came.

Loki tilts his head to the side subtly. You know he recognizes you and you know your lame attempt to hide your pain and love was seen right through. He doesn’t say anything though. Even though he was just offering to hunt your team down for sport and turn you in to gain his freedom, he says nothing to indicate you should be on trial. Instead, his eyebrows scrunch together, and he continues to stare at you. There seems to be a hint of sadness in his eyes, but you know you’re just imagining it.

The judge clears her throat, calling the attention of the room back to her. Loki’s eyes slowly move from yours. You continue to watch him though. It isn’t irrational to fear he might disappear at any moment. Not with him, and definitely not here.

You barely listen as he learns many of the same things you previously did about the Time-Keepers and his inability to use magic here. His attempts to conjure his daggers pulls your focus, but not in the same way a conversation would. No, you swear that you feel the frustration and utter helplessness that courses through him. You know the feeling, but this rushes over you just as fresh as the day you lost your powers. You can't be feeling it from him though, and that is reestablished in your mind as his magic fails to conjure.

What does call your attention is the sentencing that Loki receives and the sheer panic of potentially losing him again. You move to rise, ready to put up a fight because you know that being this close and failing is not something that you want to survive. In that moment, you don’t care if they kill you instantly. You just can’t live in a world without him. Not again. If you could find a way for him to escape, a way to feel him one more time and know that there is a chance that he could be okay, that he could live and learn to love again…well, death wouldn’t be so bad at all.

Before anything could happen though, Mobius pushes you back into place with a firm hand and rises. He runs over to the stand, speaking to the judge in whispers that you can’t decipher. Your lip trembles and you choose to scan the room for an escape route instead of focusing on Mobius, and Loki’s impending doom. When you find Loki again, his eyes are fearful and searching just like yours. You’re too preoccupied to notice when his worried gaze lands back on you. You don’t see when the fear slips from him and turns to calmness for a reason that he can barely understand.

The few seconds that Mobius spends by the stand feel like a lifetime, but his words are worth the wait.

“Alright, Loki you’re coming with us.” You have never felt more grateful for the man in your time here. Mobius takes hold of a collared Loki and guides him to the door. Loki shrugs his hand off and glares at him. “Who is us?” You take that as your cue and rise to fall into step on the opposite side of Loki.

Loki’s eyes find you the moment you’re next to him. The first time you met back in New York, you were young and still in training to fight. They had put you in the field out of desperation. When you came face to face with Loki then, you had felt small and insignificant. His confusion when he wasn’t able to control you had sparked a subtle interest in him, but you were still just an insignificant child in the eyes of a powerful god.

Now, standing next to him, you didn’t feel small in the slightest. You felt just as powerful as he had taught you to be. Even if he didn’t remember the endless time you spent together, the nights you cried over the torment your powers put you through and the days he could barely see himself through the monster he thought he was. Even if he had no memory of picnics in the park, dark nights spent teaching you to dance beneath the stars, movie nights, and laughing as you screamed lyrics at the top of your lungs in an effort to get your family to sing along (Tony, Wanda, and Thor often did); it was okay. All you needed was each other. The rest would fall into place.

“Hi. I think we’ve met before.” You give him a smile and continue walking beside them. Loki’s eyes don’t leave your face and you feel him staring as you all leave the courtroom behind. Finally, he shakes from his thoughts and offers you a soft nod.

“Yes. I believe we have.”

a/n: ahh first chapter done! I really hope you guys like this. please feel free to leave any feedback/suggestions you have to make my writing or story better. I appreciate any interaction so so much xx

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[imagines4thefandoms]

F*K idk what to name this (Leroy Jethro Gibbs x reader

Word count:4k+ um by bad

summery: Y/n come back from vaca looking different. will it change Y/n and Gibb’s relationship?

requested: no

"So how was your vacation," Ziva asked.

"Great, i saw my family and i only wanted to shoot myself once," you replied.

The elevator doors opened and y’all walked to y’all’s desk. Tony and McGee looked up from their desk and welcomed you back. You walked to your desk behind McGee and put your stuff down. You grabbed your bag of souvenirs and walked over to Tony.

"Welcome back (Y/n)," Tony said. "What did you get me.”

"Tony my nephew is more mature than you and he is five," you said throwing a tie and a baseball to him.

You walked over to Ziva and gave her a purple scarf and match hat. McGee caught the new computer game you got him.

"How this game isn't out yet," ha asked.

"My brother in law works for the company and he owed me a favor.”

"Thanks (y/n)," Tim replied.

You walked over to your desk, grabbed the coffee cup you got Gibbs and filled it at his coffee shop for him and placed it on his desk.  

"Welcome back (l/n)," Gibbs said walking into the bullpen and sitting at his desk.

He threw away his empty coffee cup and looked at the one on his desk. It suddenly got a little too hot so you took of your NCIS hat letting your hair fall from under the hat. You looked around the bullpen and noticed everyone was staring at you.

"What is something on my face," you asked.

"Your hair," Tony stated.

"Oh right. My baby sister is in cosmetology school,” you explained running your hands through your now red hair. “She needed to practice for her test and I drew the short straw. It was supposed to wash out by now but she mixed up her temporary and permanent hair dyes,”

Everyone kept staring at you even Gibbs which was weird but they stopped when Gibbs’s phone rang. Tony and Ziva were looking at Gibbs while Tim and you were grabbing y’all’s bags but when you turned around Gibbs was still looking at you. He grabbed his gun and shook his head as he hung up the phone.

“Lets go. We have a dead marine in a park,” Gibbs said leaving the bull pen.

We all followed Gibbs to the elevator. There was this tension in the air once the elevator doors closed. Gibbs usually was so comfortable around you. The two of you were the closest out of the team; but now he was avoiding you. When the elevator doors opened he couldn’t wait to get out; of course he could just want to hurry up and solve the murder of the marine. Tony and Tim raced to the car to get shotgun but when they opened the door Ziva sat in the seat.

“To slow boys,” she said buckling her seat belt.

Gibbs as always drove while you were sandwiched between DiNozzo and McGee. The drive consisted of  Tony playing with your hair, Tim messing with some gadget, Ziva was asking you questions about your vacation. Gibbs was silent the entire drive but he kept looking at you in the rear view mirror; but every time you locked eyes he quickly looked back on the road. Once you got to the crime scene everyone got out and you put your hair up in a pony tail.

The park contained a large grassy plain, a decent sized play ground for kids, and two acres of trees. The marine was one the bench in his civilian clothes. The marine was Sargent James Brian McMatthews. Aside from the fact that he was dead, he looked heathy. Sargent McMatthew didn’t have any obvious wounds explaining how he died. Ducky pointed out the same thing.

“Jethro I can’t tell you how this poor man died til I get him on my table. You know that,” Ducky said.

“Thanks Duck,” Gibbs said.

Before Gibbs even had to tell you, you decided to look around the area for clues. As you were looking you noticed Ducky call for you. Ducky gave you a hug once you got to him. Jimmy was bringing McMatthews into the back of the Medical Examiners van when he stopped and looked at you.

“Your hair (y/n),” Jimmy pointed out.

“My little sister did this,” you replied twirling your hair around your finger.

“It suits you my dear. I’m curious has Jethro seen your new hair do,” Ducky asked.

“Yes but he has been acting a bit weird this morning,” you informed Duck.  

“Well it’s nice to have you back my dear, but I must go I have an appointment with Sargent McMatthews,” Ducky said giving you another hug.

You went back to looking around the crime scene to look for evidence. While looking around the trees your saw a foot print. You measured the show print and took pictures but before you could look around more Gibbs called you.

“Did you find anything,” he asked.

“Just a foot print about 2 klicks west of where the Sargent was found,” you informed your boss.

He gave you nod and walked away. After about twenty minutes you and everyone else collected all the evidence you could and headed back to the office. This time on the car ride you got shotgun while the three musketeers sat in the back. Tony as usual was speculating on how Sargent McMatthews was killed, while Ziva slapped him because he was insensitive.

“Hopefully since we collected a bunch of clues at the crime scene we can solve this crime fast,” you said to no one in particular.

“Clues,” Gibbs asked looking at you sideways.

“Sorry evidence. I have spent a whole week watching nothing but Scooby Doo,” you said holding your head in your hands.

“Zoinks,”Tony said laughing.

Ziva slapping Tony while Tim was hiding his laugh hoping that Ziva didn’t slap him too. Gibbs looked over at you and gave you a small smile. You could just tell that you were not going to live  this Scooby Doo thing down. At the office, Ziva and I brought the evidence down to Abby while Gibbs when to see Ducky and Tony and Tim were gathering information on the victim.

“(y/n) you're back,” Abby yelled as she ran over to you. “And your hair. It’s hot.”

“I missed you too abs,” you replied hugging her.

“So besides the hair. What’s new Scooby Doo,” abby asked laughing.

“Seriously. Was it Tony or McGee.”

“I can’t reveal my source.”

“My guess is Tony,” Ziva said placing the evidence on the table in the lab.

“Just let us know when you have something Abby,” you asked as you left the lab.

“I always do,” she called.

Once the elevator doors closed Ziva asked you what Scooby Doo was. After explaining that it is a kids show about solving mysteries she let out a small laugh. You laughed along with her. Ziva and Abby have become like your sisters and no mater what happens you can’t stay mad at them.

The two of you joined DiNozzo and McGee in the bull pen. They found out that the sergeant worked at the Pentagon.

“Looks like it’s gonna be a difficult case, RUH ROH” Tony said mockingly.

Gibbs walked into the bull pen with his cup of coffee and slapped the back of Tony’s head. Gibbs told him to stop messing around. Tony then shared all the information that him and Tim found out. James B McMatthews was married with three kids and was a part of something very top secret with the Pentagon. McMatthews has no record, no affair, not even a speeding ticket.

Gibbs’ phone rang and it was ducky telling him that he had some information for him. Gibbs looked at you and motioned for you to follow him to Ducky. As y’all got into the elevator, Gibbs yell ‘Someone tell me what the hell he did for the Pentagon.’ The tension in the air formed again when the elevator doors closed. You glanced at Gibbs from the corner of your eye. You always noticed how attracted you were to your boss but when you joined his team you swore to push that thought out of your head. It helped that he had those Gibbs rules. Rule 12: Never date a co-worker. As the doors opened on the floor the morgue is on you instantly hear Ducky call Gibbs name.

“Hello again miss (y/n). How was your vacation,” Ducky asked now that the two of you were not   at an active crime scene.

“Duck, the body,” Gibbs said before you could answer.

“Right. Well this young man had no visible injuries. No cuts or bruises or even a broken bone,” Ducky said walking over to the body.

“So how did he die,” Gibbs asked monotoned.

“At first glance I couldn’t find any reason for this poor man to end up dead at a park. Upon my second look over the body I noticed this little puncture along his hairline. It seems to be from a needle. Besides that, there is nothing wrong with this man. It’s like his heart just stopped.’ Ducky said covering McMatthews back up.

Before Gibbs could ask ducky if he knew what was in the needle, I got a text from abby saying, ‘I know what was in the needle 😱🎉.’ I showed the text to Gibbs. He thanked Ducky and we headed up to Abby’s lab. When the doors opened on abby’s floor, she was standing right there and grabbed both of our hands and pulled us into the lab.

“First, Gibbs don’t you think that (y/n)’s new hair makes her look hot,” abby asked.

“Abs,” was all Gibbs replied with.

“Fine, later. Well this footprint found at the scene did not belong to our poor sergeant. It’s from a side 13 shoe.”

“The indent looks weird. The pressure of the foot print is lighter at the tip of the shoe then the rest of the print. Who ever was here was wearing shoes that were way to big for them,” you pointed.

“Correct, you get a Scooby snack,” Abby said handing you a cookie.

“You bet I do,” you said taking the cookie and taking bite of it.  

“Can you tell us the actual shoe size of the person who was standing in those bushes,” Gibbs asked.

“how dare you doubt me. No Scooby snack for you. It’s a size 9. Oh and after Ducky found that puncture wound and swabbed the area. The swab didn’t give me anything but I got to thinking of what could have been in that needle so I ran his blood again.”

“And you found a match.”

“Yes I did Gibbs. Batrachotoxin. From this cute little guy,” abby said making a picture of a cute yellow frog pop up on her computer screen.

Gibbs kissed Abby’s cheek thanking her and he stole a cookie before we walked out of the lab. After another slightly awkward elevator ride, we walked into the bull pen and Tony had just hung up his phone.

“Boss, I call about his file but they said they have to personally read us in.”

“Okay. Ziva you look up where a person could get their hands on Batrachotoxin while DiNozzo and I will go to the Pentagon while McGee and (l/n) will to talk to the wife,” Gibbs ordered as he grabbed his gun and jacket.

“I guess the gang is splitting up,” McGee joked.

Before Tony could make another Scooby Doo joke, Gibbs was already in the elevator and Tony had to hurry up because Gibbs wasn’t going to hold the doors for him. McGee and you left after y’all got McMatthew’s home address. When we got in the elevator, you looked at McGee and took a coin out of your pocket.

“Head you drive, Tails I drive,” You said before flipping the coin in the air.

You caught the coin and flipped it on the back of your hand. After looking at the coin it showed that Tim was gonna drive to the Vics house. Of course since Tim was driving it also meant he had control of the radio; which wasn’t awful but after having to only listen to Disney for a week you needed to hear your own music.

It took a while to get to the McMatthews’ house. There were three kids playing in a gated front yard with the front door open. Once Tim pulled up to the house the kids stopped playing and ran inside. One minute later a woman came out trying to find out why her kids ran in scared.

“Can I help you,” she asked walked towards us.

McGee and I held up our badges announcing that we were NCIS. She opened the gate and lead y'all inside her house. The kids stayed inside so Mrs. McMatthews closed her front door. She lead y’all to the liver room and when into the kitchen and brought back two cups of coffee. Before we started talking, one of McMatthews’ daughters came up to you.

“Are you Ariel,” she asked me.

I looked over at McGee and gave him look to let him know that I was gonna keep the kids occupied while he talked with Mrs. McMatthews.

“Yes I am,” I replied to the little girl.

She grabbed my hand a pulled me away. We walked out of the living room and up the stairs to a door with the name Sarah on the door. She pulled me into her room and went to her closet to grab something.

“You’re my favorite princess,” she said holding out a little mermaid costume.

“Why thank you, Sarah.”

“Where is Eric?”

“Oh um he is back at the castle working.”

She nodded her head like she totally understood and then asked you to play with her for a bit. After about fifteen minutes, McGee came into Sarah’s room looking for you. You turned to Sarah and told her that you had to leave. She walked with the two of you downstairs and before you walked out of the door she called out “tell flounder I said hi.”

McGee told you about his conversation with Mrs. McMatthews and how James and some guy named Andrew Ferguson had gotten into a fight two days ago about something at work. On the ride back to the office you and McGee were messing around and speculating what the vic could have been doing for the pentagon. McGee thought it had to do with some secret weapon while you suggested something more plausible (aliens).

“Aliens really, you spend too much time with Tony,” McGee laughed.

Back at the office, you and McGee decide to split up the work. While he looks into Ferguson’s military life, looked at his personal life and tried to figure out what they were arguing about. Gibbs and Tony returned from the pentagon as you were combing through Ferguson’s financial records.

“What did the wife say (l/n)?” Gibbs asked standing in front of the tv.

“She told McGee about a fight the vic got in with a guy names Andrew Ferguson,” you responded pulling up a picture of A. Ferguson.

“We pulled his military records but there is nothing on his record,” McGee added pulling up his military files.

“He doesn’t even have a parking ticket. But I was going though his financials when you got back,” you informed Gibbs.

You were combing though his financials when Tony and Gibbs pulled up the files they got from the pentagon. Apparently Sargent James was on a classified team of people teaming up with the NSA and CSA to monitor a major rebel group in the middle east that has ties to ISIS. Ziva came into the office and let Gibbs and the rest of the team know what she found on the toxin. The name Jonathan Whitlock was mentioned.

You were half paying attention when a weird charge appeared on his account. There were multiple weird changes from a offshore bank accounts. You sent the charges to the tv and walked over to where Gibbs was standing and took the remote from his hands.

“There are some weird charges in Ferguson’s bank account. They started about 18 months ago and if my math is correct it adds up to 150,000 dollars,” you reported clicking though the evidence.

Gibbs grabbed his coat and pointed to Ziva and they left, you guessed, to pick up Ferguson. While Gibbs was out, you went down to see Abby. As soon as you got off the elevator, abby pulled you into her lab and she sat you down in a chair.

“So, how was your vacation and why is your hair red,” abby asked sitting in a chair in front go you.

“It was fun. It was nice spending time with my family. And my little sister in in beauty school and she needed practice,” you explained to abby.

The two of you caught up, and abby told you about what happened while you were away. Which wasn’t much just normal stuff like Tony being stupid and teasing McGee and flirting with Ziva, and Gibbs started another boat. The two of you just sat in the lab eating “Scooby snacks” til you got a text from Gibbs telling you to meet him in interrogation.

You left abby and went to go meet Gibbs. Once you got to the observation room you saw that Gibbs was in there with Ferguson but they weren’t talking. Gibbs looked at the glass and you just knew that he was telling you to go in there with him. You exited the observation room and went next door. After walking into the interrogation room, you took a seat next to Gibbs.

“So why were you and Sargent McMatthews fighting two nights before he was murdered,” Gibbs asked.

“We weren’t fighting. It was just a heated argument. Coworkers do it all the time,” Ferguson defended.

“(Y/n) do you get in heated arguments at work,” Gibbs asked looking at you.

“No I mean unless my coworker does something incredibly stupid,” you replied ignoring Ferguson. “So what incredibly stupid thing did you do,” you asked looking at Ferguson

“I didn’t. I didn’t, ” he responded dragging if hand across his mouth.

Gibbs looked over at you then opened the file in front of him and pushed the file in front of Ferguson. He looked at the papers then looked up a Gibbs. He closed the file and pushed it back.

“I don’t know what that is,” he said tapping away at the table.

“You should. Its your banking records. It shows that there are multiple charges added to your account adding up to 150,000 dollars over the past 18 months,” you said opening the file back up and pointing out the charges.

“My guess is that those are payments from you selling military locations and secrets to enemies in the middle east,” Gibbs said leaning back in his chair.

“And your pal Sargent McMatthews found out. That’s why you two had a ‘heated argument’ two days ago. He found out that your were selling out fellow soldiers and threatened to report you,” you interrogated as your leaned closer to Ferguson.

Ferguson started sweating. Gibbs noticed it too.

“But you couldn’t have that happen so you went to your cousin Johnathan who so happen own a golden poison frog. You extracted the toxins from the frog then injected Sargent McMatthews so he wouldn’t tell your CO,” Gibbs informed.  

“Because of you fellow marines died,” Gibbs spoke angrily almost yelled.

“No one was supposed to die. The information I gave was just supposed to help them transport drugs nothing more,” Ferguson exclaimed. “They promised that no one was going to die. James was gonna tell and if anyone found out I would be labeled a traitor. I didn’t want to kill James he is my friend…was my friend. Everything just got out of hand.”

Gibbs looked over at you and then slid a legal pad across the table. Ferguson started writing his confession. You and Gibbs got up and walked out of the room. The two of you walked back to the bullpen and Gibbs sat at his desk to work on the paperwork and you did the same.

“(Y/n) its nice to have you back,” Gibbs said not even looking up from his computer.

By the time you were done with the paperwork, Tony, Ziva, and Tim has left. You looked out the skylight and noticed that it was already dark. Gibbs got up from his desk and walked over to yours.

“It’s late (y/n) go home,” he instructed putting on his coat.

“I love my family and all but there were moments where I wanted to be here working. Plus I have paperwork I still need to finish,” you responded to him.

“It can wait til tomorrow,” he replied grabbing your coat and holding it out for you.

“I really should finish.”

“Ill buy dinner.”

“Sold,” you claimed grabbing the coat from Gibbs.

A smile grew on his face and he shook his head at your antics. He waited for you to grab your things and then the two of you went to the elevator. When the elevators closed that awkward tension filled the enclosed room again.

“Gibbs are you ok. You have been acting strange all day.”

“Your hair,” he whispered.

“Right I going to make an appointment to fix it.”

“No, I like it. It suits you,” he said standing directly in front of you.

The tension increased ten folds and the desire to kiss him was strong. You cleared your throat and took a step back from Gibbs. He walked you to your car but as you were starting it something happened and the car just stopped working. You turned off the car and just slapped the steering wheel.

“Ill drive,” Gibbs said opening your door.

You got out of your car and the two of you walked over to Gibbs’ truck. The ride to Gibbs’ house was quiet a bit awkward like the elevator but it was the nice kind of awkward quiet. Once you got to Gibbs house he got on his phone and ordered takeout from (favorite restaurant) and ordered you some (favorite meal).

“Abby said your building another mysterious boat,” you inquired as you took off your coat and placed it on the couch.

“Mysterious,” he questioned.

“Come on Gibbs you constantly build giant boats in your basement and you magically get them out. Ergo Mysterious.”

He opened the fridge and handed out a beer and headed down to his basement. You followed him  down the familiar stairs. In his basement stood another damn boat. Gibbs placed his beer on his work bench and proceeded to sand down the boat.

“Ok Gibbs how many does this make 27,” you asked him jokingly.

“I think its actually 28,” he jokingly responds.

“Funny man.”

You walk over to him and just watch him sand the boat. He looks over at you and holds out the sandpaper in his hands. Switching between looking at him, the boat, and the sandpaper in his hand you shake your head.

“Oh no. I don’t want to mess up the boat.”

He grabs the beer from your hands and place it next to his. Gibbs grabs your elbow and pulls you to where he was standing. Standing behind you, he places the sandpaper in you hand and guides it along the boat.

“With the grain,” he whispers in your ear.

You were stick between a rock and a hard place or in this case wood and your boss. Being this close to him made your face turn as red as your hair. His lips stayed within centimeters of your ear as he kept whispering “with the grain”. You couldn’t help it, so you turned your head towards his and you could feel his hot breath on your face.

His lips, in this moment, just looked so kissable but you knew it couldn’t happen. Not with Rule #12. His blue eyes starred into your (e/c) eye. You unconsciously liked your lip then held your lower lip between your teeth. Seeing you biting your lip drove Gibbs crazy. In that moment he couldn’t stop himself. He closed the little space there was between the to of you and pressing his lips roughly against yours.

You could taste the beer off his lips and his scent of sawdust and bourbon filled your nose. He pressed your up against the boat to deepen the kiss while your hands found their way to his hair. This was better than your ever dreamed and you dreamed of this moment a lot. Your hands wondered from his hair down his back then to the button of his polo. He took his shirt of once he felt your cold hands on his lower stomach. After his shirt was off his lips attacked your neck sucking and biting it.

A moan escaped your lips which brought a smile to Gibbs’ face. His hands moved from the boat to the buttons on your shirt. The paste at which he was unbuttoning your shirt was agonizingly slow. But once it was done you quickly took it off. You hands went back to his hair this time you pulled him so close to you, it was like his entire weight was one you; that didn’t matter you liked feeling this close to Leroy Jethro Gibbs. His hands went down your sides to your hips and stopped on your ass. He gave it a light squeeze then grabbed your left leg and wrapped it around his hips. On instinct you did the same with your other leg, leaving the only thing from making you fall on the floor to be the force of Gibbs’s body pressing you against his unfinished boat.

Once again your hands roamed this gorgeous man’s body til it reached his belt. Your took it off and started to unbutton his pants but had to stop when his doorbell rang. He let you down and just stared at you.

“Thats the food,” he said grabbing his shirt and putting it back on.

“Im not hungry anymore,” you replied fixing your messy hair.

“You should eat anyway. Your gonna need your strength,” he said as he went up stairs leaving you gasping at the thought of what’s for dessert.

[writernomore]

The Blood Ball

Please do not publish my work/ content to different websites and platforms, I only post my work here on tumblr and wattpad.

A/n: This wasn't Proofread because I had been tired and just wrapped this out after writing it on word, also to inform you guys that reader would use he/they pronouns.

Male!Reader

It was pretty much a normal day for you on the Dream smp, you had some minimal chores to do around your base before having to go do other stuff collecting resources for a big project you had been working on, it was a little party, you wanted to celebrate stuff with old friends and new ones where everyone can get along.

Adjusting your armor and such checking your bookbag which you filled with things that were certainly not books inside it if it was closed securely so that none of your things fall out.

Grabbing your axe you walk to your table to grab a list full of materials you needed to gather, you already did your farming and fed your animals and pets so you were okay and set for the day to go gathering materials for the party you were planning .

Going to the door you turn the knob and open it, raising an arm to shield your eyes from the sun, you were going to step forward when a letter was on your doormat, glancing around you don't find anyone.

He picked up the letter and examined it from the front of the letter and to the back of it, the back had his name written in cursive and there was a red wax seal on the letter.

Opening it they were greeted with an invitation, to a banquet.

Dear Y/n ,

We are here to inform you that you have been cordially invited to the Red Banquet.

We hope to see you there along with our other friends!

P.s. Please dress in red attire.

Your friend,

Badboyhalo

He put back the invitation inside the envelope and had pocketed it inside their book bag, and took note to look at their formal clothing later after gathering materials.

Y/n hadn't been hanging out with Bad lately or his friends from the Eggpire because he was suspicious of their actions, they avoided Bad because of Bad constantly trying to persuade and convince him to visit the egg.

They agreed back then but the following had happened wasn't very pleasant, they trapped him inside the egg and told him about how the egg wanted him on their side and how it already had a hold on him, He was trapped there for 14 hours breathing heavily and feeling the pressure of the walls moving and closing in on him.

Sam saved him after he found out Y/n was trapped inside the egg, Y/n was clinging on to Sam for dear life as if they let go of him the egg would get them again Puffy brought Y/n home while Sam had to confront Bad and the others about it.

Y/n now hated the sight of the egg or anything that included it.

He shivered at the memory and just went to close his door and went to gather some wood because they were running out on birch logs.

They also had to go mining for some more stone, and finally find a place to build where he would hold the party.

He would have to also go to the cow farm and gather plenty of milk to make cakes.

Taking out a note book he wrote down what he needed and how many of it he would have to get.

-------------------------------------------------

Putting down their bag on their table they went to their chest they had placed specifically for the materials for the party.

They also had gathered a bunch f sugar cane to make paper since they ran out of paper back then to make more books to write in, they always wrote a lot during free time and they had already filled about three books so it was about time they restocked on materials.

Taking the sugar cane they went to the crafting table and turn them into paper for the invitations they will send soon, it was nice that he was invited to the Red Banquet he needed a break from all the constant material gathering they did whether it was when someone asked him a favor or it was that he needed to let out some steam by focusing his tension on his pickaxe or axe trying to tire himself out.

Wiping sweat from his forehead he finished crafting the sugar cane into paper, placing the stack of paper on the crafting table he went to the straps of his armor and went to place it on his armor stand, he took note that he needed to start mending his armor since it was starting to be worn down.

Walking back to the crafting table he took the papers and placed them in his bag from his kitchen table, going to the cupboards he retrieved a glass and field it with water and took some potatoes out from a chest he placed them in the furnace and while waiting he went to his chest room to check on his materials seeing if anything needed of restocking.

Grabbing some wheat he went back to the kitchen placed down the wheat on the table and went to retrieve his potatoes and munched on them and drank another glass of water before taking the wheat and go outside to feed his animals before going to retreat for the night.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

-*Day of the Banquet *-

Opening his eyes he groaned bringing a hand to run through his hair, standing up he went to fix his bed and go out to the kitchen to prepare something to eat then he had feed his animals so they wouldn't starve for the day while he was gone.

Going to one of his chests he took 2 eggs 3 pieces of bacon and took out some bread, going to the kitchen with food in-hand he took out a pan from his cupboard he placed it on top of the stove and started it, he cracked the eggs and put them on the pan hearing the sizzle of the eggs he placed the bacon along with the eggs, going back to the kitchen cupboard he took out a plate, glass and fork and placing them on the kitchen table.

Pouring himself some juice in his glass he took a bite out of his bread, taking the eggs and bacon out of the pan and placing them on his plate he placed the pan inside the sink.

Stabbing the eggs and bacon with his fork he brought them to his mouth and chewed his food while looking out of his kitchen window.

Finishing he also went to place the dish in the sink and took a sponge from it's container and went to turn on the sink to wash his dishes because he didn't like leaving his dirty dishes around because he was living alone, but sometimes the minors would come and trash his place after eating snacks and telling stories, long story short the minors saw him as of a big brother figure because he helps them alot especially when they get in trouble with the adults in the smp.

Kids would be kids you know? Someone has to look out for them.

Chuckling he finished up cleaning his dishes and went to grab a cloth to dry the dishes and place them down on a dish rack and wipe his wet hands with the kitchen towel.

Going outside the kitchen he went inside his chest room to grab some wheat for his sheep, yeah I guess I haven’t mentioned he loves caring for sheep did I? well now you get to know what animals he took care of all this time, he cared for all of his sheep like they were his children, like how Ghostbur had an attachment to Friend, why he chose to care for a bunch of sheep? He just thinks they were cute.

Opening the gate, he was greeted with the sheep going to him hoping for head rubs, he pets the soft fur of the sheep he made his way to place the wheat on the feeder as soon he finished placing it the sheep went eat the wheat, opening the gate he grabbed a bucket and filled it with water to pour water in the water feeder.

Closing the gate, he went outside the barn and went inside his house to freshen up, going to the bathroom he took his toothbrush and toothpaste and began to brush his teeth, his face had some scars from previous wars in the smp, Y/n was pretty involved with the war he always sided with the minors he made a promise to protect them and not let anything bad happened to them, not after the…accident, shaking his head he spits out the toothpaste.

The whole incident with Tommy being trapped in the prison and being killed by Dream made Y/n much more overprotective towards the younger smp members, he knows they can protect themselves but it’s just a constant battle with his instincts of making sure they were safe and weren’t harmed.

Gathering water with his hands he splashed it in his face and grabbed a towel to dry his face with.

After he went to take off the shirt he wore to bed and went to his bedroom and grab a black button up shirt to wear underneath his red suit, buttoning up he too off his night shorts and grabbed his pants from his closet and put them on.

He grabbed his red jacket and put it on buttoning the 2 buttons and running his hands through the clothes smoothening it out, grabbing his gloves he put them on and took his black earrings from his night stand, looking at himself from the mirror of his bathroom he ran a hand through his hair to fix it.

Examining himself he stuffed his hands into his pocket contemplating if this was really a good choice, he could bring something for a backup plan if anything went rouge during the Red Banquet.

The Eggpire shouldn’t be trusted.

Don’t go.

It’s dangerous.

The voices in his head were fighting with each other whether Y/n should go or not, shaking his head he looked back up to the mirror and turned on his heel and twisting the door knob opening and closing the door once he was outside.

Walking to where people would have to wait for the Banquet to start Y/n was fiddling with his black earrings, back then in the old days of the smp Y/n was good friends with the Dream Team, he hung out with them and the earrings he had currently Sapnap and Dream had them too, he didn’t know if they still had them since he wasn’t able to catch up with them.

Y/n hasn’t visited in Dream so long after what he did to Tommy because he kept his distance with him.

Arriving to the destination he saw Niki, Hannah and Puffy there along with Fundy, Eret and Hbomb.

Walking a bit faster he went to the group of people and greeted with a bright smile “Hello Everyone!” he said.

“Y/n! Well, don’t you look dapper today.” Puffy said putting a hand on her hip, looking down at Puffy Y/n gently took her hand and kissed the back of it “Puffy, looking gorgeous as ever.” “You Flatter me Y/n.”

“I see you went all out.” A voice said looking behind him Eret is there looking at Y/n with arms crossed and a smirk on his face “I see you did too.” “Looking stunning as ever, Eret.” Y/n went to do the same thing to Eret by kissing the back of their hand.

“Aren’t you a big flirt.” Puffy says as Y/n turns around and scratches the back of his neck.

“The Banquet would start shortly, now if you come with me…” Antfrost says, their attention going to him as people follow him down to where the Banquet would be held, there is a hallway where one room branches from it to the left where there is the coat room, Y/n sees Sam “Well don’t you look nice Sam!” He says.

“And you’re looking rather red today Y/n.” he says smiling to the man, nodding Y/n follows the rest of the guests to an open area.

It was all red…

R E D…………….

Shaking his head he looks around, vines coming up from the ceiling blood vines and all that but there is a wooden pathway that would lead to a dance floor, looking around they see the others chatting amongst themselves.

Turning around they see Foolish just coming out from the entrance they walk over to Foolish and greet him.

“Foolish! You look so handsome!” They say looking at Foolish with admiration in his eyes “Thank you Y/n! You look very nice too.” Foolish says chuckling.

“Shall we?” Extending a hand to Foolish they walk to the others laughing “Foolish!” Puffy extend her arms and hugged her son “Don’t you look dapper!” she says smiling up at her son.

After everyone had finished greeting each other they go over to the open area where there was a booth where songs were playing next to it there was a table with drinks, grabbing himself a glass Y/n downed the glass and hummed relishing the taste as the liquid goes down their throat.

Looking around they went to catch up with the others attending the party, laughing at patting George on the back for finally being in time and attending the party Y/n missed talking with George and they talk about how they should hang together just the two of them again some time like they used to back then when everything was normal between everyone before all the wars and explosions started.

"Y/n! You came!" A familiar voice says from behind them.

Turning away their attention from George they are greeted by Bad a smile slowly making it's way to his face he hugs Bad and he turns the gesture by hugging back pulling away he says "Ofcourse I would! It's been long since we all came together!"

"Well I see you're wearing all red." Bad says looking him up and down with the red suit he adorned for the evening "Yeah! Fortunately I had a red suit lying around for some reason." he says scratching the back of his head.

"Oh, George I told you to wear red!" Bad says placing his hands on his hips George could only shrug and laugh, shaking his head Bad chuckles "Well, I hope you guys are enjoying yourselves food will be served soon and we'll do a toast later on, just call Me, Ant or Ponk if you need anything have a good evening to the two of you!" Bad says before turning around and went to interact with the other guests.

*-*

Sitting on one of the chairs laid out along with the long table with plates and glasses, you sit next to Foolish the two of you talk about recent projects the two of you are thinking of doing and about the mansion Foolish was building for Tubbo and Ranboo, you told him to take breaks from time to time and not to exhaust himself while building.

Then the clinking of a spoon against a glass wine cup catching everyone's attention, all focused to the front of the table where Ponk, Bad, and Ant stood.

Clearing his throat.

"Friends, it is an honor to be here with you all today as a community."

Bad says with arms extending to gesture to everyone seated at the table.

"I wanted to invite everyone here to unite us as a whole, to unite this server amongst all the fighting and all the wars we are still a big family and see each other as such."

"And if anyone would like to say a speech please rise and say what you would love to say." Bad said as he took a seat.

“I guess I could go then.” Foolish said.

“Go ahead Foolish.” Bad says.

Foolish takes his glass and holds it on one off his hands “Well, for starters it’s nice to let by gones be by gones, and that sure you may have done some violent stuff back in the past and all of those stuff with the vines and uh..blowing up my summer home.”

“But! Here’s to being given the fourth fifth chance!” Foolish raises his glass and downs it, before sitting down as everyone raises there glass and clap.

“Will anyone else like to go next?” Bad questions.

“I guess I could go next.” Eret says standing up from her seat.

“Oh! Eret, go ahead,”

“So as the Monarch of this server it is awesome to see how the smp is being reunified again and see how we aren’t going to have to worry about fighting on opposing sides.”

As people clapped and Bad called on to ask who love to go next everything was muffled and a sudden ringing was inside Y/n’s head, he clenched his fist and closed his eyes a bit to try and soothe this pounding headache, but alas their effort to was to no avail, a voice started talking in their head, a voice they have not heard of before from the usual voices they heard of.

You really think he could like a person like you?

What?

You heard me

I don’t understand…

You poor thing, thinking that the person he holds close most would return their feelings in return…

What are you going on about?

You think Foolish would reciprocate your feelings?

How do you know about Foolish?

Let’s not go to the matter of how I know but of how I could help you with this situation of yours…

Why would I want your help?

I know you wouldn’t want my help but if you join me maybe I could help you with your love problem, just as long you joined me in the Eggpire….

No, Why would I do that?

……

I don’t want to help you or need or want you help either!

…Then it cannot be helped…

What do you mean?

As Y/n said that red vines were attacking them and restraining their limbs.

They went to scream but their mouth was soon shut forcibly.

Muffled shouts and pleas were landed on deaf ears as Y/n struggled to break free from the vines.

As everything went black for them.

*~-_-~*

As Puffy went to open the chest she had planned to fill with armor and weapons if anything were to go wrong during the Banquet she stared at the now empty chest.

“Oh, Were you looking for this?”

As Puffy lifted her head to look at Bad at what he meant, he along with Ant, Ponk and Hannah were wearing the armor she had stored in the chest.

“What?”

As in cue Y/n stood up from his seat and walked towards the group of four with his head cast down and faced them, Bad put a hand on his shoulder and smiled.

“I’m sorry Puffy, I had to tell them..” Hannah says smiling at Puffy.

“What? But-“ Foolish stutters “Y/n? you’re with them?” Foolish says looking in horror as he stares at Y/n.

As Y/n lifted his head gasps of disbelief and horror were heard, Niki places a hand over her mouth as everyone looks at their friend who now had deep red eyes and his neck had vines running up his neck.

Foolish sees as his friend was standing in front of him his eyes holding no emotion in them as if he was staring at the void their (s/c) had turned gray.

Letting out a shaky breath Foolish shakes his head and looks away because if he were to stare longer he might break into tears.

“You told them about the armor, Hannah?” Sam says.

“I had to tell them, it was the only way.”

Sam glances at his friend, they were perfectly fine a while ago what caused this to happen? Furrowing his eyebrows he mentally took a note to help bring Y/n back to normal.

“Time to go to the main eve-“ before Bad could continue he was cut off by Sam.

“Tragic you told them about the armor well, good thing I had another plan up my sleeve because I didn’t trust you.” Sam says glaring at Hannah as Puffy looks at Sam and nods.

"We can all agree that this whole thing with the egg has gone long enough, and I'm tired of all the fighting so why not blow the egg up for good?"

Sam says walking to the vines and lifting it up to reveal a lever.

The Eggpire watches in confusion on what Same meant.

“So why not blow it up with an amount of tnt that it cannot survive.”

Tnt comes falling down on the egg and start to blow up smoke covering the egg from the explosion but once the smoke cleared it revealed the egg covered in crying obsidian, the crying obsidian slowly fades and it reavels the egg unharmed, they stare in confusion.

Why is the egg still okay?

Why isn’t it blown up?

Bad laughs and says “Did you think tnt would work after that little stunt Quackity tried to pull?” “We took some planning and some preparing so that we wouldn’t have issues with the egg about tnt anymore.” He added.

“Y/n?” Puffy asked looking at him ecpectingly to react or say something but alas they were greeted with nothing just a hollow shell of their friend.

Putting a hand on Y/n’s shoulder Bad said “Don’t worry about him the egg would take really good care of Y/n, so you wouldn’t have to worry about him anymore.”

No please! Help me!

“Now if you would follow me, we could start the…Summary executions.” Bad says smiling.

He walks up the platform with Y/n following in suite gripping a diamond axe in one hand.

“What!?”

“No! What about the speeches man! What were they all about!?” Fundy asks.

“Those speeches were to lure you into a false sense of hope and security.” Bad deadpanned.

“You see in order for the egg to hatch it needs something and this something is we’ll be taking from each and one of you, you see the egg needs energy.”

“And that energy in particular is absorbed into the egg when people die near it and that is the roles you guys will be fulfilling!”

“So now one by one-“ once again Bad was cut off by someone.

“You’re a monster.”

“Excuse me?” Bad raises a brow.

“We trusted you.” Eret says clenching their fist.

“You are one to talk to about trust!” Ponk says angry at the person in front of them.

“That’s all in the past now.” Eret says looking down.

“I changed since then, I know better to not break other people trust anymore.”

Bad stares at Eret and open his mouth to talk “You know what? Eret, I think you’d be the perfect person to…sacrifice first!”

*~-_-~*

In darkness Y/n stood there bound in vines.

Watching as their body is controlled and is doing things they didn’t want to and had no will in what is currently happening.

Please someone…

…./n

…..Y/n..

Y/n!

Y/n gasps and looks up from their kneeling position they are greeted by two entities the one to the left was all white with yellow eyes looking down at him and the other one to the right was all black with white eyes looking at the vines constricting them.

Are you okay dear?

I..I think so?

Helos dear, can you help him with the vines?

I’m already on it.

Being freed from the vines Y/n looked up at the entity in front of him their hand outstretched which he gratefully took helping him stand up.

A shout was heard and they looked to see that a sword was being raised and lowered.

Wincing Y/n put a hand to his head trying to soothe his headache, how does he gain control to his body again?

We can help you with gaining control again.

Looking at the white entity he says “What?”

She said to gain control of your body from this red things influence dingus

The other entity says hitting Y/n upside his head.

Helos!

What!?

*~-_-~*

Gasping Y/n gasps desperate for air feeling his neck as if he was being chocked looking over at everyone they see Puffy with tears in her eyes and everyone staring somewhere.

Looking to what everyone was looking at they see blood and…Foolish’ body..?

Foolish’ body was slowly disappearing leaving yellow dust.

Furrowing his brows and his grip tightening his hold on the diamond axe “WHAT THE HELL!?” he shouts catching the attention of everyone in the room to see Y/n back to normal again.

“Oh! Hello Y/n, had a pleasant nap?” Bad asks him innocently.

“Hm no matter whether you’re awake or not from the influence we would go back to you once this is over ,now , who should we execute next?” Bad asks.

As Bad and the others were deciding who to execute Y/n loosened and tightened his grip on the axe and slowly backed away from the four shaking his head, he could feel the pounding sensation going on in his head and he can’t take it anymore.

Dropping his axe he sits down and puts his head in his hands, no one is going to trust him ever again.

A hand was placed on his shoulder and he was greeted with Fundy looking down at him with a worried expression “Are you okay?” he asks.

“To be honest? No, I’m not.” He says looking at Bad.

As he went over who they could kill out of nowhere Quackity came from a wall and landed in the room.

Quackity calls Bad’s name and tells him to stop.

“Relax Bad, Relax” Quackity says smiling at Bad “I know what you’re doing here, but stop right now, stop.”

“Oh my gosh, look at what you’ve done here, Bad this is impressive.” Quackity says looking over the room and the egg.

“You have to stop Bad.”

“Stop?” Bad repeats.

“This whole egg thing is getting way out of control, you just killed a man is this what you wanted? Is this what you wanted to do all along? Killing innocent people?” Quackity says putting on enchanted armor.

Bad scoffs “You think putting on armor would scare us away and make us stop? Why do you think we went through all of this effort?”

“All of this is for the egg and for what the egg could give us.” Bad says “ So don’t get in our way.” Bad growls.

“You can’t stop us because we’re to powerful.”

“Look at what you’ve done bad.” Quackity says gesturing to the whole room “You’ve trapped all these, these innocent people.” He says shakily.

“And what you’ve discussed as a party?”

“Just look at this Bad, What have they done to you?” “I’m telling you, you’re a pawn for power.”

Quackity rambled on about how the egg doesn’t care about him and that how it doesn’t mean anything, while the Others looked at the egg Quackity gives Puffy a golden apple and a netherite axe quickly hiding them in her inventory whilst Quackity talked.

“How about we stop playing games Bad?” Quackity suggests.

“I can’t you know I can’t.” “You’re not like this Bad.”

“If I stop, then I can’t have what I need.”

“The last chance Bad.” Quackity warns “You and your buddies drop your weapons, leave and let these people go.”

“Or what?” Antfrost asks.

“I’m not talking to you, I’m talking to Bad.”

“No.”

“No, How about you drop your weapons and prepare.” Bad says loading up his crossbow and points it at Quackity.

“Because Quackity if you wanted to stop us, you should have brought more than yourself, Quackity.”

Quackity’s grin widened and he let out an airy chuckle “Guess what Bad? I did. In fact I brought the next best thing, I brought my Biggest enemy.”

Quackity laughs “I’m not alone.”

“Alright Quackity where is this egg?” “It’s right here.” Technoblade walks in though the gap in the wall where Quackity had dropped in bringing along an army of dogs with him.

Y/n stared at all the dogs dropping in, and went to stand up steadily grabbing the axe he had set down but stopped when a hand was placed on his shoulder turning around with furrowed brows he sees Fundy looking at him and shaking his head as in telling him not to.

Which he behaved and just sat back down with a huff he couldn’t fight right now he needed to stop the headache.

“Not only that I crossed the entire lands looking for the best mercenary I could find, because guess what? I couldn’t take you alone so I got the two best fighter in the entire server to help me out with this, so Welcome him Bad!” Quackity cheers.

“What?”

“Purpled!” And on time Purpled had busted in through where Technoblade and Quackity busted in through not so long ago.

“What!? We hired you to take out Puffy and you joined the enemies side!?” Bad shouts at the young man.

“To be frank Bad, Quackity just had the better price.” Purpled says shrugging.

Bad huffs before looking to Techno “And Techno! You and Quackity are enemies, Why would you side with him?” Bad questions.

“Listen, I didn’t want to work with him either but this, this egg is going to far it’s warping peoples mind and it won’t stop till it influences the entire server.” Techno says before getting his dog off the magma block before it kills itself mumbling something to himself.

“And this egg stands for everything for everything I stand against as an Anarchist and if I don’t stop it now, it would be the end of the world.” He says before taking out his rocket launcher “So yeah, I’m working with Quackity.” Techno answers the Demon.

“No, We still out number you it’s 4 against – “ before Bad could finish that sentence as if in cue Puffy takes a strength potion and screams “Antfrost you’re dead!” before charging at Antfrost with axe in hand surprising him and the others “Puffy stop!” Bad calls out.

She swings her axe at Antfrost hitting him and went to hit him again but the clang of His sword coming in contact with the axe was heard, Puffy was quick retract the axe and killed Antfrost with the final blow with the axe to his abdomen.

It was then that Quackity shouts “Attack!” that swords coming in contact with each other wolves attacking and biting the opposing side and arrows being shot.

“Save us!” Fundy screams.

The Dogs went after Ponk and attacked him growling at the one armed man as Techno launched more rockets causing explosions of color “Bad! I’ve always told you that this egg brings nothing but trouble, trouble I tell you.” Quackity “I’m done with fucking games.”

“This is not going to end here Quackity.” Bad screams.

At this point Y/n had already stood up “Get him!” Screams Fundy, all he could do is look at his fox friend and sigh shaking his friend.

“Retreat!” Bad yells.

“What?” Y/n says under his breath.

They see that Bad had dug out a tunnel leading out to an escape route “What? No!”

People run up to the platform and to see the tunnel “Stay here, don’t go after them.” Quackity instructed.

“Purpled I want you to go ahead and track them.” Quackity orders Purpled.

“They’re not going to get away with this.” “Is everyone okay?”

“No.” Y/n deadpans “I don’t know, we just got lured into this place no one had no idea.” Fundy exclaims.

You rub his back and he just buries his head in your shoulder sighing in frustration.

A hand was placed on your shoulder and you turn to see Sam “Are you… doing alright? You in there and not being controlled right now ?”

You give him a tired smile and shook your head no, he nods and rubs your shoulder.

Purpled had returned and told Quackity that it was a Labyrinth down where they escaped “Shit, did we really just lose them?”

“I’ll build a prison for the egg.” Sam states.

“No, Sam there has got to be a way to destroy it right?”

“I’ll try to find another way but for now I’ll lock it up till I find a way how to get rid of this thing.” Sam says looking the egg up and down.

After Sam and Quackity discuss about containing the egg Quackity asks everyone if they’re okay.

“Hey, Y/n” He hums in response “You don’t look to well, your looking a little under the weather.” Quackity says looking worriedly at his friend.

“Yeah, just feeling a bit rough after being..” He stops talking and just gestures to himself by twirling his fingers around his head and points to the egg “Okay..uh just hang in there.” Quackity pats him on the shoulder “Well then I hope hanging by a thread counts.” Y/n jokes snickering at himself.

Leave him alone it’s how he’s coping right now.

“Okay, our objective right now is to get these people out of here, we’re going to get them out through where we came through okay everyone , Purpled you go ahead and lead these people out of here.” “Alright.” Purpled says.

As everyone was being carefully escorted inside the opening Techno, Quackity and Purpled entered through.

As they had finally ascended up to the surface everyone was so happy, having gobe out of that hell hole.

Breathing in the air Y/n looked up at the sky and decided to say goodbye to everyone and said they were going to head home to sleep.

Walking to the direction of their house they thought maybe they shouldn’t throw a party at the moment.

When his house was in sight he sped up and went to run to his home opening the door and slamming it close.

Looking around he took in the surrounding and quiet atmosphere he ran a hand through his hair messing it up even more.

He began to unbutton his suit jacket and take it off walking to his bedroom and plopped into his bed and buried himself within the comforters.

He was to late…

He wasn’t able to save Foolish in time…

He can’t let something like that happen again…

I couldn’t protect Foolish but I could protect others to prevent them from dying to the hands of the egg or anything that wanted to harm them, even if it costed his life.

Closing his eyes, he swore to protect the other people he holds dear.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Again, sorry that this story isn't proofread I tried rushing this So I'll be able to get this story out as soon as possible.

Anyways, I intended to have had publish this a few more days later but I just decided against it.

Anyhow, If you like my writing why not consider and give me a follow and donate to my ko-fi? It would mean a lot to me! :D

[rainbowvamp]

Alone Too Young

The first installment in my Princess Bride AU. Today we meet our first protagonists, Gwen and Elyan (playing the parts of Valerie and Inigo respectively). Wednesday, we get the rest of their origin story, and Friday we start with the Princess Bride Retelling Proper (Morgana/Lancelot for the main pairing).

Warnings for semi-graphic depictions of murder (Thomas's) and blood. Also semi graphic depiction of injury (Broken ankle), and mentions of death and burial rituals. Implied threat of sexual assault.

Teen and Up Audiences Advised.

Summary: It was supposed to be a day like any other day. Except the king came early for his commissioned sword, and slayed their father before left, leaving Gwen and Elyan orphans.

Word Count: 3,859

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32975395

For Protagonists: Albion Party 2021 (❤️Red Team Rulez💋)

---

It’s just like any other day, really. Father is in his smithy, creating a sword. Elyan is there, helping him, and Gwen is in the kitchen, preserving the ripe spring fruit for winter and fall. Her mother had taught her to do this, when she was still very young, and when mother had died, the kind woman down the road had helped her perfect the craft. Most of the household chores had fallen to Gwen in her mother’s absence, while Elyan had tried to apprentice under his father and her father had to work even harder at the forge to buy pre-made clothes, since Gwen couldn’t sew nearly as fast as her mother and she and Elyan were both at the age where they outgrew clothes quickly

Gwen had heard father telling Elyan that this sword will be his master work. That it is the most beautiful thing he has ever created, and it will fetch a good price, keep them fed through the winter when firewood is harder to find, and buy them both nice warm clothes that they won’t have time to grow out of.

The King himself has commissioned the sword, he hears them whisper in the quietest tones late at night, while Gwen attends to her sewing, trying desperately to make enough clothes, and patch and resize what she can salvage. King Uther will be there at the end of the week to pick it up, coming himself to inspect the craftsmanship. It’s a high honor. Tomorrow Gwen is meant to begin preparing the house for royalty.

Only… a very fancy looking party is coming down the road, past her house, towards her father’s smithy. The clatter of chainmail and swords, the clop of hooves and the creak of carriage wheels passes her by, and she is worried, because there was no word that anyone noble would be passing through their little village. And the knights are all dressed in an unmistakable Pendragon Red.

Gwen leaves her jam, covers the fruit with a towel so the flies and bugs can’t get to it, and she dresses hurriedly, not even putting her hair in a nice braid before donning her cap and making for her father’s forge, taking the shortcut that she knows by heart after years of being sent to give her father, and now Elyan lunch, dinner, and water.

“It’s not ready.” She mutters to herself as she goes as quickly as she dares in her nicest dress. “It’s not ready. Father will be so embarrassed.”

She slips into the forge through the back door, and can already hear the King’s party coming.

“Gwen,” her father says, voice high and mouth smiling. “What a lovely surprise. Is the jam-making going well?”

“No.” She shakes her head and tries to pull herself together, heart racing and breath weak from having come as fast as she had to try and outrun their horses. “No, father. The King! I saw his party coming this way. He passed by the house not long ago. Where is his sword?” She is quick, frantic as she speaks. Her heart is racing, her head turning side to side, looking for any sign of the sword her father has spent weeks and weeks making.

“The King? He’s not due till next week.” Father’s voice mirrors her now, as he looks toward Elyan. “Give my that sword, son. It’s not ready, but I can polish it up before he gets here.”

“Hurry, please.” Gwen says, frantic, as Tom is looking for his polishing materials. Maybe it’s the clopping of hooves she hears, or maybe it’s the racing of her own heart, getting louder and louder. King Uther is not known to be patient or forgiving. She is terrified of what might happen if he is displeased in any way. Could he take the forge? Kill her father?

No. No, she couldn’t think like that. She just couldn’t. It would only make things worse, to think like that.

“Elyan, take your sister home. I don’t want either of you here for this.”

“Father, no!” Elyan begins to protest, and Gwen goes to do the same, but Tom’s gaze becomes hard, his mouth set in a firm line that quiets them both.

“I said, take your sister home. I’ll see you both for dinner.”

No you won’t. Gwen’s terrible thought replies, but she pushes it down, pushes it back. Because she won’t believe it. She won’t. Her father will be fine. He crafts the finest swords in all of Camelot, and even if the sword isn’t finished, it is still beautiful, and sharp, and the king will not be disappointed in it. Of course he won’t be.

So then why does the thought feel so much like a lie.

Her brother takes her arm and leads her out with much more authority than he had any right to. He is smaller than her by an inch, though he will catch up to her soon. Guinevere is only fourteen, he only fifteen, sixteen come winter, but mother had predicted that she would grow faster than he would, leaving Elyan to catch up when he was older. Soon he would, she is sure of it.

They dash through the trees, but Elyan stops when he catches a glimpse of the King’s riding party. Gwen stops too, forboding and dread weighing her down to the spot.

“You go ahead. I’m going back with father.” Elyan tells her, and she glares.

“No, we both go home or we both go to the forge.” Gwen hardens her features, standing her ground like Mother always taught her to, and Elyan glared back at her, a battle of wits ensuing.

Eventually, Elyan sighs, defeated. “We’re wasting time. Come on. But you’re to stay outside and out of sight, and if you think they might start looking around, you run back home, do you understand? Men like that, they aren’t kind to women below their station.”

She swallows hard. She knows what he means, and what she is risking, but she will not leave her father alone, and neither will Elyan.

They race back, just barely making it to the forge as the King himself bursts through the door, loud and rude. They watch through the window, obscured by bushes and the curtain father uses to keep bugs out.

“Tom, smith, it is good to see you! I hope I am not too early.”

“Of course he’s too early.” Elyan muttered from their perch at the window, glaring at the king in a way that would be treasonous if he saw. Gwen doesn’t blame him. She’s sure her own gaze is not particularly favorable to the king just now.

“Of course not, your Majesty. I’m just finishing polishing it up, if you don’t mind waiting a moment.” Gwen can hear the tenseness in her father’s usually easy-going voice. The fear in it that the King is probably used to, maybe even delights in by the way his eyes light up.

“Excellent. I’ve heard nothing but good things this about your work. I expect the result to be excellent.”

“I endeavor to please, Sire.” Tom continues polishing the sword as the king looks around the smithy, walks casually, hands behind his back, and examines the walls lined with tools and swords and horse shoes.

“This is beautiful.” King Uther said, picking something up off a table that Gwen can’t see. “I should like it as well.”

“Thank you sire. I was actually making it for my daughter. Her coming of age is soon, but I would be happy to make another just like it, better even.” Tom is smiling, but Gwen can see the insincerity in it, the sweat beads forming at his temple are not just from the heat of the forge.

“No, I won’t be back this way for some time. I’d like this one. Make your daughter another.”

Elyan starts to stand and Gwen grabs his arm, clawing her nails into it and leveling her hardest glare at him. Their father was a competent man, and they would leave him to do what needed doing.

“The metal is from my late wife’s wedding ring, Sire. I would prefer not to part with it, if I could.” His voice is soft, pleading, begging the King to understand, but King Uther is heartless and the whole kingdom knows it.

“Hmm.” Uther carelessly drops whatever it is he is holding onto the table, the clatter making Gwen flinch even as Elyan grips the window seal like he would like to jump through it and give the King a piece of his mind. “Enough of that then. The sword.”

“Here, Sire.” Tom’s voice is soft with relief that Gwen can feel in her chest, a knot unwinding ever so slightly, that will not be fully undone until the whole thing is over and the King is gone.

“Excellent.” The King takes the sword an examines it, head and hand turning this way and that to admire the work her father had done. “That’s 100, isn’t it?”

Tom is quiet for a moment, eyes widening. “Um, Sire, I believe we agreed to 1000.”

“He can’t be serious. Father worked for months on that sword.” Elyan seethes beside her and Gwen finds her own anger is rising, even above the anxiety. She can’t see this ending well.

“1000?” The King scoffs, “What does a peasant need 1000 for all at once? 100. Take the money or you shall get nothing at all.”

“Sire, with all due respect, I can’t take less than 1000. The materials alone are worth more than 100. That handle is inlaid with real gold, precious stones. I have a family to feed, Your Majesty.” Tom’s tone is raising, higher pitched, pleading, not yet angry like Elyan so obviously is beside her. She keeps hold of his arm, not to keep him in line, but to keep herself grounded. This cannot end well for them. It will not.

“I don’t believe I asked about your family, smith.” King Uther adjusts his grip on the sword and places the tip at their father’s breast both, just beside his heart. “Be lucky I offer you 100.”

“Sire, please.” Tom is looking around frantically for anything he can use to defend himself, and his eyes catch on something just beside Gwen. When Gwen follows their path she realizes that he is looking at Elyan. Whether he has always known they were there or just discovered them is unclear, but Gwen read the words on Tom’s lips clear as words straight from a book. “Don’t.” Her father tells Elyan, and Gwen grips her brother’s arm, but it is too late. He is racing around the building, toward the door, and Gwen can’t stop him. She’s wary for her own safety, and her father had begged him not to.

Elyan doesn’t see their father’s death, because he is running around to the door, but Gwen sees it. She has to hold her hands to her mouth to keep a scream from escaping. She has never seen a sword pierce a human before. She’s never seen anything killed before today, so to have the first death she witnesses be her father’s is more than she can bear. She collapses into the bush outside the smithy window, the gurgling sound of her father’s final breaths creeping out the window, but soon covered by Elyan’s roaring yells of “father!”

Their father won’t survive. Elyan won’t survive. What will they do? What will she do? Her limbs are stiff and her lungs are empty, refusing to fill themselves. She hears the clashing of sword, and her brother’s grunts of pain. She is still crying, sobbing, even, but she holds her hands so hard to her face that she thinks maybe she’ll have bruises across her lips afterward. It hurts. Everything hurts.

She hates King Uther. Hates him with a fiery passion, but that is nothing compared to the sorrow welling inside her. Her father is dead. Her brother is dead.

She hears hooves on hard dirty road, the king giving orders to leave, and only then can she gather enough sense to crawl out of the bushes and around the smith to see what damage has been done.

Her eyes are so wet with tears that she can’t see anything but red. Red that turns deep black where there is too much blood pooled of the smithy’s dirt floor. She can hear her father’s choking, gurgling breaths and she collapses again, sobbing. She doesn’t know how to save a stabbed man. The nearest doctor is two villages away. She can’t help him. She can’t save.

“Guinevere.” Elyan’s croaking voice calls to her and she sobs harder, curling in on herself and holding her knees.

“Elyan!” She wails, “Father!” She hates King Uther. She hates him. She hopes he gets caught in a hideous fire, burns alive and has hot metal searing his flesh in his final moments. She hopes he suffers. She hopes he dies.

“Guinevere!” Elyan yells louder, though nowhere near his full strength. “Help me.”

She forces her shoulders to still and her sobs to quiet, wipes at her eyes with her sleeves. Her hand is wet, wetter and stickier than tears would leave it, and when she has cleared the tears from her eyes she sees that she has put her hand in blood. Elyan’s blood most likely. She’s enthralled by it, can’t move anymore, knowing that the king has spilt both her father’s and brother’s blood. She’s only able to move again when Elyan calls her name.

She crawls to him, ignoring the blood staining the worn blue fabric of her mother’s handed down dress, still the finest dress she owned. It was too big for her, and the fabric would have dragged through the blood even if she’d bad the strength to stand, which she didn’t.

She dropped again beside her brother, who laid in the dirt, too weak even to move his head. His foot lays at an odd angle, and his face is bleeding. There is so much blood Gwen thinks he might die too.

“I will-“ Elyan starts to say, but he winces with the pain of his injuries, “I will avenge our father, Guinevere. I will keep you safe.” He reaches up and touches the blood streak on Gwen’s face, brushes it away with the sleeve of his own shirt. She brings her hand up to hold his, tears still tracking down her cheeks and making both their sleeves wet. There father is silent beside them.

“You have to live.” She pleads. Looking over at their father, whose eyes are glassy, wide open, chest unmoving.

“I will. He laid no killing blows. He thought me younger than I am.” Elyan swallowed hard and Gwen squeezes his hand, walking on her knees to take the pitcher of water from the counter and bring it down to the ground with them. She has to help him sit up, and move him to rest against father’s work table before he can drink. He tries not to show how much he’s hurt, but Gwen can see it in the way he tries so hard not to move his left leg, and grits his teeth harder with every motion.

“Elyan, what are we to do?” She whispered once he’d drunk what little water was in the pitcher.

He doesn’t speak for a long while, and Gwen starts to cry silently again, her eyes settling on the wall farthest from where her father lay dead, unwilling to look upon his body again.

“You have to go fetch the doctor, or my foot won’t heal right. I’ll be of no use to you if I can’t walk.” Elyan grit his teeth as he adjusted himself against the table, trying to get more comfortable. “Once he’s finished with me, I doubt we’ll have much money left. I’ll find some odd jobs in the villages, see if there’s a widow needs firewood or something of the like. I’ll keep the forge going at night, prove to people that I’m as competent as father.”

Gwen nods and swallows hard. “The fruit will be bad by the time I get back with the doctor.” It’s the only thing she can think.

“Damn the jam, Guinevere. We’ll make due without.” Elyan’s voice is dismissive, angry, but she knows it’s not aimed at her. Even so she feels herself shrink, frightened by him.

“I’m sorry.” Is all she can think to say. She is sorry that their father is dead. Sorry she can’t think of anything but the jam. Sorry that she didn’t… what, stab the King? If Elyan couldn’t lay a hand on him, what hope did she have? Guinevere was never trained with a sword. She would make Elyan train her now.

That thought centered her as she stumbled to her feet. “I’m going to get the Doctor. I’ll see if The Henricks will let me borrow their horse.”

“Don’t ask them. Their son has eyes for you. Ask the Tailors, down the way. The mother has a soft spot for you.”

Gwen nods, pulling her scarf closer around herself. “She’s always been good to us.” She had taught Gwen to make jam. And to sew, and all the best household remedies and cleaning tricks. Surely they’d spare her a horse.

“She has.” Elyan nods and his eyes focus once again on their father’s dead body. She knows that’s where he is looking, but she doesn’t dare look herself. She’s only just stopped crying and she can’t afford to lose it again. She has to bring a physician back, for Elyan.

“Hurry back,” Elyan says to her on her way out the door and she nods at him, eyes steely and determined. When she passes people and they see the blood on her knees and the tears still glistening her eyes, they put two and two together. None of them stop her or ask her questions, but they leave a trail of gossip in her wake.

She ignores them.

—

The physician sees to Elyan quickly, who’s been moved to their house by a neighbor with a cart and kindness in their heart. Elyan is laid up on their father’s bed, rather than the cot they usually shared, to try and keep some of the pressure off his ankle.

The physician had given her something to help his pain, and showed her how to change the dressings on his wounds. She had taken all the instructions in stride, committing them to memory and never once glancing towards the fruit still sitting on the kitchen table, waiting to be cooked and jellied.

“You’re a very lucky young man.” The physician says as he’s packing up his things. Gwen can’t fathom how anyone could apply the word “lucky” to their situation. “The King has killed boys younger than you for smaller slights. If he had, your sister might be left all alone, and where would she be then?”

Elyan bites his tongue, and Gwen does too. They both know how lucky they are Elyan isn’t dead, but their father is, and they are still too young to be alone like this. It’s cruel of him to torment Elyan so.

Gwen sees the physician out the door, and gives him most of their money as he goes. She doesn’t know what they’ll do when the few coins they have run out, but she will just have to think of something until Elyan is on his feet again.

“Father still needs to be buried.” Elyan said as the sun begins to set. Today had seemed so ordinary only hours ago, but now it feels upside down and there’s nothing she can do about it.

Gwen nods as she tries her best to save the fruit that was left. It would cost too much to waste it now. “The Tailor’s son has offered to come first thing in the morning and help me dig.”

Elyan nods as well, but doesn’t look at her. It must be weighing on him that he can’t dig the grave himself. Guinevere remembers how at just ten years old, Elyan had insisted on helping father dig mother’s grave. Guinevere had braided flowers into a crown for her. Father had told her not to touch mother, but Gwen had always been a stubborn child, and she had snuck over to her mother’s shrouded body, moved the shroud from her face, and placed the crown on her head.

Her mother was cold, stiff, like a doll made of corn husks, but more solid. It felt strange to touch the body and find it completely stiff. The neck wouldn’t give even an inch so she could put the crown all the way around her head, so Gwen had just rested the crown askew, and replaced the shroud. Her father had caught her, yelled at her to step back. Mother had been very sick for a long time. It wouldn’t do for Gwen die as well, now that all of Mother’s duties were hers.

Mother had told her once, that she’d run a home one day. This was probably not how she meant it.

After placing the crown, Gwen had gone inside to finish the day’s chores. It was all she could do. Playing didn’t feel right, and people kept coming to the door, saying how sorry they were and asking when they would bury mother. Gwen fielded these questions as best she could, and finds herself fielding the same ones late into the evening as word of Tom’s slaughter at the hands of the king, and Elyan’s injury, spread through the village. A few of the village men bring Tom’s body to the main house, to keep it safe for the night. Gwen tells them thank you, and when they offer to help during the burial tomorrow, Gwen gladly accepts it.

“You’re too young for this.” Elyan said, with a single candle burning down on the kitchen table and Gwen laid out on the cot by her brother’s side, unwilling to go more than a few feet from him.

In the dark of the night, Gwen feels another set of tears start, and she leaves them, lets them soak the hard pillow beneath her head. “We’re both too young for this. But we’ll make it.”

“Yes, we will.”

When Gwen looks up at Elyan, his eyes are focused over her, probably on the shrouded body of their father. There will be a stink in the house by morning. There was with mother. They will have to take they father outside as soon as someone comes by in the morning, and someone will have to guard his body from wild animals while they dig. Gwen thinks Elyan should do this. It would make him feel useful. Even when mother died, Elyan had tried to be jovial, but he is nothing by sad and serious now. She can’t say she expects him to smile, but they’ve barely spoken all day except to make plans. Gwen lets the tears keep flowing late into the night, and she barely sleeps for the grief.