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azulera · 1 year

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Inseparable

Pairing: Reece James x Black Reader

Summary: Reece is away on international duty, and you're away on a family trip. The distance helps you to make an important realization about your relationship, but certain visitor(s) always seem to be around when you think to share it with him.

Genre/Warnings: slice of life fluff, humor / none

Notes: i started this during international break, just wanted to read something sweet about my bf reece so i finally finished it :) this is only section 1 of 6, but u can visit ao3 to read the whole thing. just pretend reecy didn't go home early and enjoy the jude b jumpscares throughout! thoughts and feedback are welcome

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I. Day 1

When the FaceTime call first connected, a brown forehead and dark crop of curls were the only things visible. Any words of greeting were lost among the noise of bustling people and intercom voices announcing arrivals and departures in Spanish, English and French that filled the airport and all your other senses. After a moment, you connected your headphones and propped the phone up on the suitcase handle in your lap. Predictably, the airport signal was poor.

“Hey babe, can you hear me?” You looked into the camera, at the still fragmented view of head and hair, and rearranged your flight-ruffled twists over your shoulder. “Reece, can you hear?”

“Yeah, just hold on–”

Your stomach rolled in excitement to see him, though it hadn’t been more than 24 hours since the last time. The relationship, only 4 months old, was still in the rose-colored center of the “everything is perfect” phase, and you weren't sure you’d ever get used to being apart.

“Alright, there.” He’d pulled the camera back, so you could see his full face, and the smile that burst forth was effortless.

“Wow.” You drew out the word. “I can’t believe I flew 2000 miles away from you, by choice.”

“I can.” He complained, even as a soft grin settled on his lips and eyes. “It hasn’t stopped raining in London since you left. Did you all get in okay?”

“Yeah, we did! We’re here. Waiting now for a cab to our hotel, it should be around soon.” The light layer of scruff he’d grown across his chin caught your attention as you looked down at his face, and suddenly, seven days, the length of time that would pass before you could pass your fingers against it, seemed brutal. You tried instead to direct your thoughts to the positive. “Even from the plane, though, everything looks amazing. Where are you? Still at St George’s?”

“We just wrapped up, actually. I’m – can’t you see?” He tipped his phone back, and you got a view of one of St. George’s physio suites, lined with beds, therapy equipment, trainers, and a few other players milling about. Reece himself lay on his stomach with his shorts pulled high, his calf tattoo and the backs of his thighs glistening with some substance.

“Oop! Wait-” Your eyes widened. “Wait, let me see again? I didn’t get a good look–”

“Y/N,” Reece tutted. “Behave.”

Your eyes rolled toward the domed airport ceiling, even as his words bounced around somewhere warm in your chest.

“It’s not my fault you’re built like that. Just want you to squeeze me between them and -–”

“Okay! Okay,” He said through a nervous laugh, darting his eyes around the room he was in. “We are in public, the both of us. Let’s change the subject, please.”

You sighed and took a glance around the airport, which continued to fill as other flights landed, all sorts of eager travelers preparing for or returning from vacation. To your boyfriend there wasn’t so much new to say, as hours of the night before had been spent in bed cuddled up close, Reece’s body between your legs and your hands in his hair, chatting about whatever little thing came up. It was a nice activity on its own, but the real objective had been simply taking each other in, his scent, the feel of your hands roaming his back, the shape of his curls beneath your fingers, and trying to store up as much closeness as possible for the week ahead.

In the short quarter-year of your relationship, this week would be the first and longest time you’d been truly apart.

“Are you having a massage, then?” You asked finally.

“Yeah, I am. The gaffer’s let us off a bit easy today since it’s the first day back, but it’s still cold as ever. S’not good on the bones.”

You shuffled around in your seat, not accidentally nudging your sister, who was sleeping in the adjacent chair. She was 14 years old and yet still a baby, who’d whined about needing to nap while your parents went out to watch for the cab.

“Well, that must be nice then, getting warmed back up. I could use a massage myself, my sister fell asleep with her big head on me the whole way and my shoulder’s dead.”

“I got you when you’re back, don’t worry.” Reece replied. You rolled your eyes another time, choosing to ignore the cheeky look on his face. Little strings of missing him pulled at you already.

“So, what are you all up to the rest of the day?” He asked more innocently.

“Sleeping, probably.” You stole a look over to your sister, who was still dozing with her suitcase clutched to her chest, nose up in the air. “Our hotel is right by the water, so we might go for a swim, definitely grab some food. Tomorrow, I know we’re going to an outdoor market my mum wants to see, and then this cathedral my dad won’t stop talking about.”

“Oh, that sounds fun.” Reece’s face pinched as the massage continued. All you could see from the screen were a pair of pale forearms working and disappearing behind him. “And tell them both I said hi, yeah? And your sister, too.”

“I will,” You nodded. “She’s still been begging for a Chelsea away kit in her size, even though I told her to stop, but — are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m good. Almost done.” He bit down on his lip. “These don’t feel as nice as you think, you know. Especially with old Robbie here, I think he’s got it out for me.”

You heard the deep, muffled voice of the trainer in the background and Reece’s responding laugh. Then another deep voice joined in.

“Not too much on Robbie here, he’s a good lad.” Reece’s eyes lifted to it’s source, somewhere up above the camera, and a slight shadow fell over him.

“No one’s asked you? Move.” Reece laughed at the invisible voice.

“Are you on the phone? Who are you talking to?”

“Don’t worry about it–”

“Oi, hello Y/N!”

Beside Reece suddenly appeared the dark brows and brown eyes of Jude Bellingham, the only match for the strong Birmingham accent that you could imagine talking to your boyfriend that way. You’d first met last year, at a small party for Reece’s birthday, and you’d found his constant banter with Reece and chameleon personality immediately endearing. It had been months still since you’d last seen him.

“Is that Jude?! Long time no see, friend!”

The young man smiled and pushed closer into the center view of the camera, blocking Reece’s face.

“Way too long, I swear. Reece keeps you locked away like a prisoner or something. How’ve you been? You’re away on holiday, I heard?”

“Nah, he’s not so bad. I get food and water, some outdoor time.” You joked. “But I’m great, really. In Spain for a week with the family, we actually just made it in!”

On the screen, he struggled against Reece’s strong shoulder to keep his face in the frame. “Oh, that’s nice, innit? I’ve been a few times with my family, and it’s lovely. You’ll enjoy it.”

“Yeah, but I am worried about Reece … he might lose his head without me.” The words left you jokingly, but not without some truth in them.

“It’s already looking that way, you know. He’s been getting massaged for like an hour, which makes no sense cause, what does he even do on the pitch? Just stands there.”

Your mouth popped open, releasing a surprised laugh, as Reece told his friend in a very impolite way to stop talking.

“You’ll look after him, then, won’t you?” You asked. “Make sure he’s alright while I’m gone? Annoy him a little bit?”

“Don’t you worry, sis,” Jude patted a hand atop Reece’s head, which he swatted away. “I promise to stay on his nerves. And make sure he’s tucked into bed and had his tea by 10.”

“I’m forever indebted. You know how grumpy our Reece can get when his schedule’s thrown off.”

“You two are mental.” Reece laughed, and you joined him, continuing to catch up with Jude until your sister made a sharp movement to your left.

“Mum texted and said the car's here.” She said through a yawn. Her puff was smushed from where it had pressed against your shoulder and the seat. “Stop blabbing to your boyfriend and let’s go.”

A glance was just barely spared for her before you turned back to the phone. She would flip if she knew the special guest who was also on the other end of it.

“My mum says our cabs here, babe, so I’ve gotta go. But I’ll call back soon. Every two days, remember?”

The question was met with silence, as Reece’s face turned for a moment away from the phone.

“Reece? You repeated, stretching out the vowels. “Do you remember?”

A loud “smack” resounded in the air, and you caught sight of Jude’s hand slicing through the air and down onto Reece’s skin.

“Pay attention, bro! She’s talking to you.”

Reece’s features drew into a scowl, that slowly receded as he turned his face back. Another laugh trapped in your throat.

“Every two days, babe, I know.” Reece nodded. “I won’t forget. But you have fun, yeah? No worrying about work or classes or anything like that. Just enjoy it.”

You smiled, assuring him that you would, gathering your suitcase and standing up from your chair.

“And if you need anything, or to talk, on the off days,” Reece suddenly added. “It’s okay. I’ll be busy, but, I’ll find the time. Just let me know.”

The sentiment hidden behind his words, and the care in his eyes as he said them, made another, heavier, equally tender three words rise and itch in the back of your throat. Neither of you had uttered the phrase just yet, “I love you”, but each memory made and day spent together made the declaration harder and harder to hold back. But for now, several countries and a few timezones apart, you swallowed it down. The noise in the physio suite and the airport seemed to rise as you and your sister reached the exit doors, and regardless of how Reece might react, the truth of your feelings for him was a message you believed better delivered in person.

“I really appreciate you communicating that. But I think I’ll text Jude first, make sure it fits with your schedule, okay?”

“Whatever” he mumbled, before you said your goodbyes and ended the call. Being separated when you’d spent so much time together the last months was a strange, new feeling, and even now, it wasn’t clear how well you’d respond as the time went on. But Reece being back in the 3 Lions camp, and you surrounded by loved ones was a comfort you were sure would see the both of you through. The week would fly by, and you would relax, and enjoy it as it did.

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ao3 link to read the rest :)

#reece james imagine #reece james x reader #reece james fanfic #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham fanfic #footballer x reader #footballer x you #football imagine #football fanfic

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instasiswetrust · 3 years

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"Guys! Oh, I'm so glad you're here!" Dustin risks bowling over Mike, Lucas, and Will with the exuberance of his hug but there's no way he can keep quiet about this. Not after what he had done the night before. "I have a secret and I'm dying to tell somebody else."

They all seem confused for a moment before Lucas' eyes widen.

"You got Suzie pregnant?"

"What? No!" He makes a face, jokingly punching his friend on the shoulder. "Jesus, Lucas, why would you even think that?"

"If it's not that then what?" Mike sounded annoyed but then again, he kind of always sounded like that.

Dustin wasted no time in pulling out the leatherbound journal he had found the night before, leading his friends to an outcrop near the docks, shadowed by trees. He opened it to the first page, where Steve had scrawled his name in neat calligraphy.

"Is that Steve's diary? Dustin, what the hell?"

"It's from the summer of '85 guys! You know what that means?"

"Uh, that you shouldn't be reading your older brother's teenage thoughts?" Lucas fixed Dustin with a light glare, which he ignored.

"No, idiot. Summer of '85 was the last time Steve ever dated someone! You know, the same year he moved here? When mom took him in?"

"I'm not following. What does this have to do with your wedding?" Mike crossed his arms over his chest, Will peeking over Dustin's shoulder to scan the pages.

"Well, wouldn't it be nice if Steve got to be happy too? He's been taking care of me since my mom died. He's the only family I have and if Suzie and I leave the Villa, who will help him?"

Lucas and Mike don't seem convinced with Dustin's reasoning but at least they stop glaring accusingly at him. In the end, is Will who breaks the staring contest between the three of them.

"So what did you find?"

"Uh, okay so listen to this." Dustin flipped some pages from the journal stopping at a page and grinning.

I keep being surprised when Mama doesn't show up to the important events in my life but I guess I should be used to it now. Robin insists I forget her, Nancy asked if I was planning to go back, and that's when I told them about my plans. Both of them are sad to see me go, we're the Dynamos after all, but they were supportive and saw me off at the airport.

My flight did a stop in France. I met Tommy there when he confused me for one of the staff workers. He's kind of a dick but in a charming way, and he's got this adorable smattering of freckles covering his face. He told me about growing up in London and how his dad was a banker, how his mom had his whole life planned out for him as soon as he graduated from college.

We went out for a few drinks and friendly banter turned into drunk 21 questions. Tommy told me how he's always wanted to but he's never been with another guy before. And look, I'm never like this! But we were pretty drunk, and I was curious if those freckles went all the way down! So one thing led to another and we ...

"I'm not sure if I wanna keep listening to this," Lucas said, making a face.

Mike, on the other hand, took a seat next to Dustin trying to see what was written on the journal. "Well, I do."

"What's dot dot dot?" Will asked, eyebrows furrowed.

"Oh, that's just a euphemism for having sex," Dustin said waving a dismissive hand as he flipped through more pages. "Okay, okay, now listen to this."

After almost missing the ferry, I finally reached Scopello this afternoon. The turqouise waters and the approaching sunset must have been one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen in my life. I think, that maybe I could stay here. Forever. Oh, but I'm not sure, it would mean rarely seeing Robin and Nancy, dropping all dreams of singing in the big stages, all those dreams...

I don't want to worry about this now. This place is too beautiful and I want to make the most of it.

There was a storm the other night. I've been staying on a rundown farm at the edges of town and during the storm heard a loud sound downstairs. There was a horse there, probably scared from the thunder but the ceiling collapsed and I couldn't get to it. I wasn't really thinking when I decided it would be a good idea to try and run back into town to get help. Luckily, this guy had been out driving (who rides out a Camaro in a thunderstorm??) and he helped me get to the horse and calm him down.

His name is William, Billy for short (the guy, not the horse), and I've never met a guy more infuriating than him. Or as hot, either. Good gods, he looks like he walked straight out of an art museum or something.

We’ve spent this whole month together, going out to swim at the beach (he tried teaching me to surf and I almost twisted my ankle on some rocks), then to a local bar (I actually got a new job singing there, who would've thought?), some picnics. It's been awfully romantic despite Billy’s brazenness and cocksure attitude.

And I think that I... I think that I might love him.

"But if they were so into each other, what happened?" Will pipes up again, a frown on his face as he tried to read over Dustin's shoulder with little results.

"I still think you shouldn't be doing this, dude. What if Steve finds out? He's going to be so mad at you!" Lucas interjects, picking another rock from the sand and making it skip over the surface of the water.

"He would kill me for sure," Dustin shrugs, offering a toothy grin. "But only if he finds out."

"Dustin, c'mon! What happened next?" At this point Will looks like he's about to rip the journal out of his friend's hands and read it himself.

"Jesus, you're pushy. Okay, so-"

Billy's engaged. Didn't even tell me, I had to find out for myself while I was making him breakfast and accidentally stumbled over some documents he had left laying around. My chest hurts, and I haven't stopped crying since he left this morning but I'm just so angry!

Fuck, I feel so dumb. This is all my fault. All because I was being a stupid reckless little slut.

Ugh. I sound like my mom. At least Robin and Nancy called to say they would arrive this week. I've truly missed them, can't wait to see them.

The girls came to see me during one of my shifts at the bar where I was singing. Robin couldn't stop laughing at Nancy's surprised face. She thinks I've changed a lot since I left but in a good way. I don't really believe her and I think she knows that. With them here, at least the ache from Billy's departure barely makes itself present.

Oh! Before I forget to write this again, today I saw Jonathan again. He was this nice photographer who slowed the ferry's departure so I wouldn't miss it. We talked a lot on our way and he's such a nice guy. He came to the bar today and we got talking again, he asked if I would be okay with modeling for him tomorrow. Nancy and Robin insisted that I tell him yes, as a chance to try and forget Billy by "getting some".

I told them it's an awful idea but I accepted Jonathan's offer either way. He's quiet but caring, and I really enjoy talking with him. We talked about his family back in America, his mom and his little brother. Honestly, if something were to happen tomorrow, I wouldn't be opposed to it...

"Wait." Will leans back, a confused expression on his face that slowly morphs into astonishment. "Dustin, does Steve ever say the last name of this Jonathan guy?"

"Uh," Dustin frowns, flipping through the pages. "Yeah, they are here somewhere. Let me look for them."

"Will, you don't think-" Mike starts, having caught onto his best friend's train of thought.

"Jonathan took a trip to Italy when I was fifteen." He says simply, biting on the pad of his thumb.

"Oh shit." All eyes turn to Dustin who's got his eyes fixated on the journal in his lap. "Byers. The guys last name is Byers."

"Holy shit Will, your brother hooked up with Dustin's brother." Lucas tries to tamper down his laughter but it's a futile endeavor, his lips curling up before he can control them. "I can't believe this."

"But wait," Mike turns to Dustin who's expression has turned troubled. His eyes narrow. "You still haven't explained what this has to do with your wedding. What did you do?"

Dustin stays quiet for a minute or two before he lifts his gaze to his friend's, a sheepish smile on his lips. "I uh, I invited all three of them to the wedding but made it look like Steve sent the invites. And they uh... they all said yes?"

This time Lucas doesn't even bother hiding his laugh, doubling over as he nearly cackles at the stupidness of this whole situation.

"Dude, you're so fucked when Steve finds out."

#WIPs #mamma mia au #stranger things #steve harrington #dustin henderson #mike wheeler #will byers #lucas sinclair #harringrove #stonathan #stommy #yes im back on my bullshit #no im definitely not done with this #i watched both movies just so i could make this work

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h50europe · 3 years

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Why the ending of the series finale felt off for many of us (and what PL could have had really in mind) - Aphorisms

As you can easily see from the photos, season 11 was a safe bet, as was a new team member, McCole. What could have been, it says, written by Justin, the wife of Alex stunt/stand-in double. I'm going to play the advocatus diaboli.

In the penultimate episode of H50, Lenkov created a new character. He was sort of based on Steve, but also not. As it turned out in the last episode, Cole and Steve also had a mutual friend: Catherine. Why does that not really surprise us? The rumor mill was really churning, and it was a given that PL was definitely going to bring her on board. So, without further ado, he made her a key person. She was the one who cracked the ominous code that Doris had left for her son. Question, couldn't Jerry have done that just as well?

Anyway, PL set up Cole and Steve. But the chemistry - for us - wasn't really there. They could have just as easily put anyone next to Steve. PL built on the military past of the two (what else) and finally the common denominator: Catherine. Oh, how original. NOT. If you look at this constellation, you can already guess where this was going. But there remained this one obstacle: Danny.

Well, no problem, Lenkov thought and had him kidnapped without further ado. All planned because of all the great McDanno moments we got to see in season 10. So appropriately for lulling, even if these moments did not have nearly as much heart as in previous seasons, but hey, the fans would swallow and relish it, PL thought.

Then came the obligatory threatening call from Daiyu Mei (note the clever pun ala Yoda: die you may...), and the drama unfolded. The whole thing was further clarified by the words of Wo Fat's ex: "I have the person you care about most in the world." Bummer, as she is not talking about Catherine but Danny. Queerbaiting at its worst. Then comes the usual. And during the escape attempt, Danny, who is already half-dead, gets shot. So far, so good, or not.

Danny's injuries could have easily been fatal. So now I'm going off the premise and just claiming that this was PL's original plan. Why? PL did mention at one point that he could imagine H50 without Steve or Danny, but he certainly wasn't stupid enough to believe that. It was nothing more than a smoke grenade. But what PL had wanted for a long time was the end of McDanno. He preferred another ship. But while McDanno sailed blithely across the seven seas, PL's fav ship never left the harbor. But now, he had the ultimate opportunity with a new, equal partner at Steve's side (Book'em Cole), who also pulled Catherine out of a hat.

PL's heart did somersaults. What a great plan that was. Alex didn't say anything about really wanting to quit, even after the series ended. While he had been open about his departure after season 7, there was no need to hide this fact now in season 10. And as you can easily see, all signs were pointing toward season 11. What PL didn't count on was the massive resistance from CBS.

In contrast to PL, they had no problems with Scott/Danny or McDanno. They knew that this was the heart and soul of the show. And PL's protector Moonves was no longer available because he had been kicked out of the network. So PL's back was against the wall. And nothing and nobody could change that. Too bad, because actually, PL had everything perfectly planned.

Danny would either die on the way to the hospital or later in the hospital. This would lead Steve to a massive revenge attack, which should have ended in a brilliant showdown (brilliant for PL, not necessarily for the fans), but Daiyu Mei escapes eventually. Then, Steve would have been driving around aimlessly. We were possibly shown some flashbacks, only to end up at Casa McGarrett, where Catherine would have already been waiting for him. Nice reversal of the goodbye scene from season 6.

The conversation between Steve and her would have been similar to Danny's, except that it wouldn't have been about his parents, but about Danny and that he just can't take it in Hawaii any longer. Too much reminds him of his dead friend. Steve also wanted to pay his final respect and bring him back home to Jersey. Of course, Catherine suggests joining him. What else? Now that one ship sunk, PL could easily replace it with HIS fav ship. And because Cole has done so well, Steve also entrusts him with the task force's leadership. Before Steve leaves to accompany Danny on his last journey, he hands Cole his credentials.

Steve and Cath stand next to each other at the airport and watch as Danny's coffin is loaded onto the plane. Then they board the plane together, ending with them holding hands as we know it. Fade out, season 10 ends.

How would it have continued in season 10? Danny's funeral would have happened off-screen, like so many other pivotal scenes. Steve would have maybe spent an episode or two mulling it over and then returned to Hawaii to hunt down Daiyu Mei with Cole and the team, which now included Catherine.

So much for Lenkov's wet dream, um, plan. However, because CBS knew that McDanno was the heart and soul of the series, they found this idea more than lousy and turned PL down. We could imagine that Alex also threw in that he would certainly not continue without Scott. There was a short back and forth, and it was decided to cancel the show. So we've come full circle to the sloppy, heartless execution of the last episode and the absolutely meaningless words PL put in Steve's mouth as a result. Due to lack of creativity and apparent lack of time, the deadline seemed to be predetermined, considering how quickly the soundstages at Diamond Studios were obliterated.

The crew was equally surprised when PL succinctly informed them that there would be no season 11. See the post from an angry crew member on IG.

Can we prove any of this? Nope, but it's the only reasonable explanation for why the show ended the way it did. Namely, completely illogical, with a Steve who was more than just off the rails. At the very beginning of the series, Steve gives completely different reasons for staying. If you do a rewatch, you'll see.

Everybody knows that you don't solve problems by running away. You don't get rid of the weight that you carry around with you. Steve may be a stubborn mule, but one thing he has never been: self-centered. And if Danny was really the most important thing in the world to him, as Mei said, then he wouldn't have dumped him in the end. Because that's what you do when you really love someone, you stay and fight against all odds. Especially when someone is in a bad place, like Danny, who has just jumped from the brink of death.

You don't suddenly go on a self-realization trip and kick the person who's already lying on the ground. But that's exactly what Steve did. At least the way PL wrote the part. The man must have really lost it when he wrote those lines. I'm sure he was enjoying pure schadenfreude.

And if you take a close look at the two protagonists, you can clearly see the reluctance with which they shared it all with the audience. There was no more room for any affectionate ad-lib actions that we knew from before. They could only stubbornly reel off what was in the script. PL would have done well to sit down with Scott and Alex and find a common solution instead of imposing his version on them and the audience. That's what people with integrity do, but the man never any.

In our opinion, the show's ending ranks among the dumbest and most unimaginative of all time. Rarely a person manages to drive a show against the wall in such a way and at the same time assassinated the main characters. PL shouldn't be proud of it. He should rather stand in a corner and be ashamed of himself.

And now you can go ahead and bash us, or just ignore the whole thing and keep on scrolling. Thank you for your time and for letting us share our thoughts with you.

#McDanno #steve mcgarrett #danny williams #scott caan #alex o'loughlin #H50 the final chapter #H50 series finale #Lenkov #lance gross #cole #catherine

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forthehpfanboys · 4 years

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Two Years

Pair: Fred Weasley x Reader; he/him.

Summary: You got back to Diagon Alley after the war and desperately wanna talk to him and explain why you were basically non-existent during the war. But is Fred ready to talk to you?

Warnings: Swearing.

Notes: Reader is Draco's Cousin! Hope you enjoy!

~DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE~

Complicated couldn’t even begin to describe your relationship with the Weasley’s.

For to start, you were related to the Malfoys which automatically meant it was rocky. You were Draco’s cousin. Your family didn’t believe in the same ideology as Lucius and Narcissa, leading to family feuds being normal during literally any time of the year. Your family didn’t exactly want the attention of the Malfoys or the Dark Lord once the war reared its ugly head, so your family fled to America, dragging you with them. They wanted to get as far from the war as possible.

And two, well, you were Fred’s partner before the war broke out. Since your family was absolutely dedicated to being hidden, you lost communication with him when your family decided to just get up and go. You didn’t even have time to tell him goodbye or really anyone and it hurt. You knew you hurt him too and no matter how you begged, your parents wouldn’t let you see him, let alone send him a letter. Owls couldn’t travel across whole seas and you were basically in lock down, even if you were a grown adult.

You stayed up most nights because of nightmares. You’d wake up in a cold sweat more times than you could count on both hands. After these tear jerking visions from hell, you’d usually climb from your bedroom window to the room, gazing out at the moon like a love struck teenager, hoping maybe even praying Fred was gazing at the moon at the same time you were.. Most nights he actually was.

During the war, Fred had come into a.. Complication. He ended up fracturing his leg, resulting in a cane and physical therapy. George took up fixing and running the shop with Ron while he was borderline trapped between surviving at the Burrow and physical therapy.

Fred spent most of his free time sketching out ideas of products to tire his mind long enough to ignore the stupid nightmares and gazing out the window, hoping you’d apperate across the field and come comfort him, but you never came. Everyone in the Burrow avoided mentioning your name around Fred, anyway.

When the time came, Fred went straight back to work with his twin, spewing out ideas about different treats, potions, trinkets, anything and everything he came up with while bed ridden and they both got to work quickly.

It was nice, relaxing, normal again. Everything was normal to Fred but a piece of him was missing. You were across the world and you held a piece of his heart and he hated you never gave it back.

No matter how badly he missed you or longed for you to hold his hand, he wasn’t ready to face you when you entered their shop. He literally wasn’t ready to face you. He turned around when the bell went off, ready to say the shop wasn’t open yet but dropped the box he was holding. He ignored the sound of shattering glass and immediately booked it back into the room, where he nearly knocked over his brother.

“What’s wrong?” George asked, swiftly setting the box he was holding down on the shelf. “Are you going into another attack? Do you need to go upsta-” He was silenced when Fred's hand covered his mouth.

“Hello?” A soft voice called out, causing George's eyebrows to furrow before his eyes grew wide. Fred moved his hand, using it to slowly shut the storage room door, making sure to turn the handle so it shut silently. The separation allowed the twins to whisper to each other in peace.

“Isn't that-”

“Yeah.”

“Then why-”

“Because I’m not ready.”

“..You’re not ready? Blimey, Fred, it’s been 2 years since he left.” George ran a hand down his face, the other landing on his hip sassily. “What do you mean you're not ready? You always talked about how you missed him but now you aren't ready?”

“You wouldn’t understand-”

“Don’t even give me that, Freddie. Talk to me.” George smiled, resting a hand on his brother's shoulder. “I know you're older by like, 1/4 a second, but you don’t have to be a rock. Come on, don’t bottle it up.”

Fred let out a sigh, his eyes casting downward before he let out the smallest of chuckles. His hand came to rub the back of his neck.

“Fine.”

George almost squealed with joy when his brother decided to open up to him. He wanted to clap his hands and jump around like a child, but opted for not compromising their position.

Fred went on to tell George about how you left, how you didn’t even leave a note, how he didn’t know how to ask if you two were still together and if you loved him anymore. George has already known all of this, causing his face to melt into an unamused expression.

“.. You realize you're being ridiculous, right?”

“Gee, thanks George. I will most definitely come back to you when I have emotional turmoil.”

“No, no, mate, listen.” George wrapped his arm around his older brother's shoulder, gently guiding him away from the wall. “Listen, ok? You’re such a top notch guy, not as handsome as me,” George smiled wider when his brother snorted, “but you’re trying! So why not at least talk to the bloke, yeah? You guys were snogging before he left, so why not try to snog after?”

“I just told you why I can’t.”

“Who are you and what did you do with Fredrick Weasley?” George put the back of his hand across his forehead, being the dramatic shit he is.

“Don’t call me that, you prat-”

“I thought I knew you! Confidence was your middle name! Frederick Confident Gideon Weasley!” The youngest twin only became cockier when the older one groaned and covered his face. “Oh, Frederick, where did you go?” He wrapped his free arm tighter around his brother and dragged him out the door, ignoring his protests and grabby hands reaching to hold onto the door frame.

“George, wait!” Fred’s hushed whisper floated in the air, completely ignored by the other red-head.

“Fredrick! Where did you go, Freddie?!” He called out, knowing damn well you were still in the shop. Neither of the twins heard the shops bell ring a second tie, indication your departure.

“George?” Your voice echoed in the closed shop, leading George to dramatically turn to his brother and smirk at him. “Is that you?”

“Why yes, my dear friend! How are you?” George let go of his twin, allowing him to scurry off to the side and hide behind one of their many filled shelves. You walked up to him just after Fred hid, much to his delight and George’s dismay. George’s smile faltered ever so slightly when he took in your appearance.

Your hair was a nest fit for Scabbers, the bags under your eyes would need to be checked with baggage at any muggle airport and your clothes. Not that there was anything wrong with a hoodie and sweatpants, but it was summer for fucks sake. He could see the sweat across his brow and wondered if he should turn the AC on.

“I’m as well as I can be, I guess..” You fiddled with a stray strand hanging from your hoodie. George noted the fraying hand made thumb holes and his eyebrow raised in confusion. “I um-” You ran a hand through your hair, “I wanted to talk to Fred, do you know where he is?” While your eyes were darting across the top level of the shop, George’s eyes flashed to his brother.

The shop owner shot his brother a glare when he shook his head back and forth fast enough to make anyone dizzy.

“Um, no.. I haven't.” George grumbled out, his hands going to his pockets. He looked down at the floor deciding it would be better than the disappointed expression on your face. “Um, do you want me to give him a message for something?”

“No, yeah, if that’s ok?” You went back to fiddling with the stray thread. You didn’t notice Fred peaking at you through the products lined on the shelves. “Just um- Could you tell him I’m sorry for me? I’m sure he’ll know what I mean..”

“Yeah, sure thing, (Y/n/n). Anything for you.” George ran a hand through his hair after you turned on your heel and mumbled a thank you before exiting the shop. “You owe me.” The red-head turned to his identical and sighed when he saw the longing expression. “Merlin’s left tit, you’re fucked, mate.”

“I should’ve-” Fred hit his forehead against the wood of one of the shelves, a yell of frustration leaving his throat.

“Say it.” “..You were right. I should’ve talked to him.”

“Damn right I was. Now, go get your bloke before he cries in the street or worse, goes to Malfoy for romantic help.” George faked a shudder at the idea. George watched his brother turn, slamming his back into the shelf and slide to the floor. “Ok, Fred, seriously, this is getting kind of sad.”

“I can’t go talk to him, George!” Fred was pulling at his own ginger locks, his knees coming up to his chest. “I- No, I can’t.”

“Do you want me to do it?” George’s voice was soft. He plopped himself on the dusty floor right next to his brother. “I can talk to him as you? See what all of this is about?”

“I don’t know, Georgie..” Fred’s voice was softer than his twins. He looked at his brother with a hopeless expression and glossy eyes. George figured from this it would be best to tackle the problem tomorrow so he just pulled his brother into his side and held him for a good while.

The next day was easier for Fred. The store was bustling, as it was Monday, morning and all the happy customers provided a great distraction. He took over the register while George focused more on the floor work: answering customer questions, restocking shelves. It was a lot for two twins to handle, but they managed, especially when Ginny or Ron offered their free days to come down and help.

Fred had just finished closing the drawer, handing a youngster his change back when the bell above the shop's door caught his attention. He shifted on his feet when Draco was practically dragging you into the shop wearing the same clothes as yesterday. The red-head was starting to wonder if you were ok.

“(Y/n)!” George yanked you into a hug before you could even blink, causing you to erupt into a fit of giggles that left Fred absolutely yearning to have you by his side again.

“Hey Geo!” You briefly hugged him back before pulling away, causing his attention to shift to your cousin.

“Malfoy.” George looked the blonde up and down. He’d throw hands if he had too, even in his own shop.

“Hey, be nice. He’s on our side now.” You punched the tall suited man lightly in the arm before shoving your hands in your pockets.

“It’s unfortunate but true. Most birds did appreciate my bad boy ages.” Draco ran a hand dramatically through his hair while George snorted. “But that isn’t why we’re here. Is your brother around?”

“He’s at the til, why?”

“I’m just here to make sure (Y/n) actually talks to him like he promised too.” Draco put a hand on your back and gently pushed you forward. “But how is business, Weasley?”

While George went on to talk about statistics and boring old shit, you slowly walked over to the red-head who was trying to distract himself by restocking some of the knickknacks in the class case beneath the counter. You cleared your throat, clearly scaring him. He let out a squeak and hit his head on the underside of the glass case.

“I-I’m sorry, Freddie! Are you ok?” you asked, your hands awkwardly fidgeting in front of you as the male stood up and rubbed the back of his head. You bit your lip, resisting the urge to grab his shoulders and check his head.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good.” He had his eyes squinted so tight he could see stars flashing behind his lids. He couldn’t look at you yet. You’d looked like a kicked puppy yesterday when you left and it pained him so much.

“Did, um.. Did you get my message from Geo?” You were fiddling with the string again. Fred opened his eyes slowly, nodding to you while he played with the product in his hand.

“I.. Look, I don’t wanna beat around the bush, but I-”

“I already know.” Fred spoke up quickly, louder than intended. “I know, it’s fine.”

“S.. So it’s fine then?” You looked around, a tiny bit confused. Fred wasn’t one for jumping to conclusions, but it seemed his legs weren’t tired yet.

“Yeah.”

“So, I just wanna be sure we’re on the same page, you know my family dragged me to America?”

“Uh-”

“And basically put me under house arrest so I couldn’t see you or message you or leave or really live? And I haven’t forgotten you and my feelings for you haven’t changed and Godric, Fred, I miss you so much.” Tears pricked your tired eyes as you glanced at him. You cleared your throat over the awkward silence you felt was your fault. Fred was replaying your words like a record stuttering on a player and the bloke was still confused.

“.. Come again?” The red-head blinked stupidly, subconsciously leaning over the counter. Maybe he wasn’t hearing you right over the noise of the shop. You couldn’t help but release a borderline silent chuckle that bubbled into your throat.

“I still love you, Freddie bear.” You twiddled with your fingers, your eyes glancing down to his lips before looking back into his sparkling eyes.

“You do?” The co-owner was trying to keep his joy nestled deep down in his chest.

You nodded your head.

“Oh thank fuck.”

“Wha- Ah! FRED-”

The male had all but jumped over the glass counter, dramatically picking you up by your waist and slamming his lips to yours. You wrapped your legs around his waist, while your hands gripped to his shoulders like your life depended on it. You immediately fell under the spell of his kiss and didn’t even hear your cousin and your boyfriend's twin brother whooping/gagging.

Fred soon set you down, his usual cocky grin spread across his face until his knee buckled. The strain of his dumb ass jumping over the counter and picking you off your feet like you were a feather was finally catching up with him.

“Ah, ow, ow.” Fred groaned out, bending over to hold his right knee. You put a hand on his shoulder, worry etched across his face. “Ah, so um.. I should probably explain-”

“We both have a lot to explain, Freddie. Two years is a lot of time to be apart.”

#fred weasley x male reader #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley #hp imagine #hp x male reader #male reader #george weasley #draco malfoy #x male reader #Ronny Writes #fic #hp male fic #hp fic

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dinosaurtsukki · 4 years

Text

❀ nostalgia | “i haven’t seen you since the day we...broke up” feat. kuroo tetsurou

⇢ day 3 of angstcember

⇢ synopsis: airports aren’t really a place where people linger around but you find yourself unable to leave quite yet and face a new chapter in your life. even more so when you run into kuroo, your ex-boyfriend, whose flight has been delayed

⇢ a/n: this is probably my fave so far because i love flashbacks and nostalgia-themed fics. also partially inspired by this movie i watched about two strangers who got stuck in an airport and grew closer. hope you guys like this!

⇢ pairing: kuroo tetsurou x f!reader

⇢ word count: 2.6k words

ANGSTCEMBER MASTERLIST (feat. haikyuu!! and bungou stray dogs)

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kuroo tetsurou wasn’t a fan of being stuck in airports. actually, he wasn’t a fan of being stuck anywhere and having to be idly wait for something. kenma liked to say that it was karma because he kept using that ‘we are the blood that keeps the ball in motion blah blah’ back in high school. he kind of wish he could be like his best friend who was content with waiting for long stretches of time as long as he had his phone or game console.

kuroo sighed as he sat down in the waiting area, pulling his suitcase next to his feet. he already had his lunch and walked around the airport twice, browsing the shops selling overpriced local goods and a few amenities like massage chairs and spas. kuroo pulled out his phone to scroll through social media for a bit only to get bored of that too and glance at his watch repeatedly. there were eight more hours left until his flight. kuroo wished he didn’t have to travel to whole other country for the first time one his own.

little did he know, he was about to get company soon.

...

your flight had arrived at the airport early, way too early for your liking. after piling your luggage on one of the carts in the airport, you idled at the baggage reclaiming area, unable to walk to where departures was. ‘what are you so afraid of? you’ve been waiting to come home for so long,’ you scolded yourself.

a few minutes into your waiting time, you received a call from your mother asking about your flight. you bit your thumbnail anxiously as you talked to her and you don’t know what came over you, but you ended up saying: “sorry, my flight hasn’t left yet.”

“it’s delayed?”

“yeah, sorry. i probably won’t be at the airport until night there.”

“alright. maybe you can find something to do. give us a call when you’re at the airport already.”

“sure, mom. goodbye,” you said before hanging up. now, with some fresh time to kill, you pushed your luggage around the airport. it had been years since you were last in japan. in fact, this was the very airport you left for the US from. while walking around, you tried to remember if the same shops and stalls were still there. ‘nothing much has changed,’ you thought with a smile, wheeling your luggage cart into what appeared to be a waiting area that had a television and some armchairs.

you were making your way to one of the chairs when you realized that there was something strangely familiar about the man sitting in that area. he was wearing a gray, business suit and sitting on the chair with a foot propped up on his knee. what struck you most was his hair, black and sticking out it in different directions, when you realized who it belonged to.

“kuroo... tetsurou?” you said aloud. and, at the sound of your voice, he turned to see you.

...

“y/n?”

kuroo couldn’t believe his eyes. here you were, in the airport of all places, with an expression on your face that matched his. you had changed quite a bit since he last saw you but, your eyes, your lips, your face, kuroo couldn’t possibly forget any of those.

“it’s really you,” he chuckled, standing up and going over to you.

“yeah, likewise,” you smiled, eyeing him up and down. you’ve never seen kuroo in a business suit and quite frankly, he looked really good.

“i haven’t seen you since the day we... broke up,” kuroo said, eyes softening as he remembered the painful memory.

“that’s because i hopped onto a plane the day after,” you shrugged a shoulder.

“ah, right.”

“well, how have you been?” you asked, to ease the awkwardness. “never thought i’d see you in a suit.”

“right? it was weird at first but now it feels like a second skin,” kuroo chuckled. “i work for the japan volleyball association.”

“no kidding? that’s amazing!” you grinned. “i always knew you couldn’t get away from volleyball.”

“i may not be in a team but it still is fun. and how about you? you’re the one who moved all the way to new york!” kuroo asked.

“well, it wasn’t easy,” you shook your head. “it’s a pretty long story actually.”

unlike kuroo, you were more familiar with airports and traveling from country to country. you didn’t mind lingering in airports, in fact, you enjoyed them quite a bit. you found out that airports were quite similar to each other, no matter what country they were in. furthermore, time always seemed to vary among different people who were either rushing to their next flight or waiting to get to their next destination, wherever it was.

it felt like some strange form of fate that you would meet kuroo, of all people, in the airport, of all places.

“funny thing is, my flight has been delayed,” kuroo chuckled. “so, i have eight hours to kill.”

“is that so?” you cocked your head and smiled, “i happen to have time to kill too.”

...

“a little bit to the left.”

“y/n, you just told me to move to the right.”

“but you moved too much to the right!” you pouted, putting your hands on your hips. kuroo was helpless to that pout so he moved half an inch to the right. you grinned, and crouched down to peer through your video camera.

“alright, perfect! now, just say your lines.”

as tired as kuroo was, he’d do anything for you and that meant being cast in more than a few of your short films. particularly now that you were trying to put together a portfolio to attend film school abroad.

“everything alright?” kuroo asked, creeping into your room with a mug of your favorite tea. your hair was a mess and the sweatshirt you were wearing -- kuroo’s sweatshirt -- looked like it hadn’t been washed in days.

“have i told you how much i hate editing?” you murmured, eyes still focused on the screen.

“once or twice,” kuroo placed the mug on your desk and ran a hand through your hair. you sighed at the touch, leaning back against the chair.

“i just wish it would magically become like what’s in my head, you know?” you sighed.

“well, maybe whoever’s looking through your portfolio will just be impressed by my amazing acting,” kuroo joked.

“you’re acting is just alright!” you laughed, looking up and pulling kuroo closer to press his forehead against yours. “i really hope i get in.”

“you’ll do amazing, love,” kuroo murmured, pressing kisses on your forehead. “i just know it.

...

“so, that’s how i ended up with the job!” you exclaimed. you and kuroo had migrated from the waiting area to a small cafe that served really good coffee and cakes.

“amazing! who would have thought a lot more emailing was going to do the trick?” kuroo clapped his hands.

“well, you were the one who taught me how to be persistent in the first place,” you smiled at him before sipping your tea. blackberry tea, still evidently your favorite. kuroo smiled wistfully as he remembered the mugs of tea he’d make and bring to your room whenever he knew you were stressed. he even kept a metal can of blackberry tea in his apartment and when you left, he didn’t know what to do with it. in fact, kuroo had stashed it in the very back of the kitchen cabinet because seeing it reminded him too much of you.

“i’m glad that still stuck with you,” kuroo smiled up at you.

“how about you? you didn’t completely forget about me, did you?” you joked.

“you? never.”

you bit your lip at the soft way kuroo said that. of course, kuroo wasn’t the type who easily forgot people. despite how good he was at provoking and annoying people, you knew kuroo was just one of the kindest, most loyal people you would ever meet.

“in fact,” kuroo leaned back in his chair. “i still do my laundry the way you taught me how.”

“really? with putting your socks in a laundry net so it wouldn’t get lost?” you laughed. kuroo, raised his pant leg, showing off his socks.

“i’ve had these since university days,” he boasted.

“oh, i think i remember those even!” you played along. kuroo laughed, the sound bringing you back to so many nights spent watching movies and eating cereal at three in the morning. after the break-up, remembering all of those only made you want to burst into tears so you spent a long time trying to bury them in your memory. but after a while, when you thrusted yourself into your new life in a different country pursuing your dreams, thinking back to the good times with kuroo didn’t hurt so much. it was bittersweet, actually.

...

“but... i thought--”

“i know, kuroo, i know,” you sighed, blinking hard and looking up at the ceiling. this was a conversation you’ve been wanting to avoid for weeks. after receiving your application letter and the celebration, you were hit with the realization that maybe your relationship with kuroo couldn’t continue. and what’s more, kuroo kept on talking about how you guys were going to work with the long-distance. you had to break it to him.

“just think about it, okay?” you pleaded. “i’m going to be gone for a long time. even when i do have breaks in between semesters, i’ll probably have to work jobs in between to help pay for living expenses. if we did do the long-distance thing, we wouldn’t even have the time or effort to put into our relationship anymore.”

“i’m willing to!” kuroo exclaimed, his eyes wide and desperate. “i don’t mind waiting for weeks in between calls. i don’t mind that i won’t see you in person for years. i’m willing to work with this because i know you’ll be out there chasing after your dream!”

“kuroo...” you choked back a sob. how could you think of breaking up with him after hearing all that? you were never going to find another man like him.

but, you wanted other things too.

“i’m sorry, kuroo,” you shook your head. “but, i don’t think i’d be willing to continue with that.”

“y/n, you promised,” kuroo said softly. “you said--”

“kuroo, it’s easy to promise things when you don’t how it will all turn out in the end.”

“so that’s it then?” his voice turned cold.

“we can still be friends--”

“i don’t think so,” kuroo cut you off. “you probably wouldn’t want to put effort in that either.”

...

“so, are we... going to talk about it?”

“i think the day was pretty much heading to that,” you admitted. after spending a good part of the day talking and walking around the airport, you and kuroo were leaning against a railing, looking down below at the people hurrying to buy their tickets or meeting their loved ones. in a way, you and kuroo felt distant; alienated from the rushing crowd

“i... what i did and said was completely unfair,” kuroo apologized. “at that time, i was upset because all i was thinking about was what i wanted and when that didn’t align with yours, i just told myself that you were the selfish one. and, for that, i’m sorry.”

“it’s alright,” you smiled, looking at the genuine expression on kuroo’s face.

“i really convinced myself that we were going to last but i guess i was being naive about it,” he chuckled.

“you’re not the only one. i also thought that too for a time but,” you shrugged and looked down at the sea of people below. “life happens.”

“life happens.”

“hey, isn’t it almost your flight already?” you asked, looking up at kuroo who checked his watch again.

“yeah, half an hour actually,” kuroo said regretfully. “what about yours?”

“i... don’t have one,” you finally confessed. “i got off my flight earlier today and i was supposed to be picked up but, i kind of chickened out with leaving the airport and then i ran into you.”

“how come? are you running away from something?” kuroo asked, leaning against the railing next to you.

“well, more like avoiding something. when i step out of this airport, i’ll be heading into a completely new chapter of my life,” you said, staring into the distance before turning to glance at kuroo. then, you held out your hand to him.

kuroo finally noticed what had been pretty much in front of him all along: the ring on your finger. ‘oh,’ he realized, being unable to tear his gaze away from it.

“i... didn’t notice.”

“i kind of didn’t want you to,” you admitted, taking your hand back. “i feel like you wouldn’t have hung out with me for this long if you knew. so, i guess we’re even when it comes to being selfish.”

“i would have been taken aback a bit,” kuroo agreed. “but, i don’t think i’d really miss out on an opportunity to talk to you.”

“really? i’m glad,” you said earnestly, feeling your chest swell again. “in all honesty, i don’t think i’d feel this okay right now if i hadn’t run into you.”

“likewise. i’m glad to see you again, y/n,” kuroo said, glancing one last time at the ring on your finger. “so, who’s the lucky guy?” he grinned.

“i met him at work,” you felt yourself flush. “it’s funny, actually. we didn’t get along at all at first but, one thing led to another and we ended up together. he’s really sweet, a bit of a nerd to be honest, and,” you shrugged, “he makes me feel loved.” you paused and reached over to squeeze kuroo’s hand.

“if i hadn’t met you, i wouldn’t have known that i deserved to be loved this much.”

...

your fiancee texted you a few minutes later and kuroo absolutely insisted, despite your protests, to walk you to the exit. there was a strange feeling in his chest, a feeling of tightness that was slowly dissipating, and kuroo could only chalk that up to the revelation that you were engaged.

once again, he had hoped that day that meeting you here at the airport was some kind of special, destined event that was hopefully going to reignite what was lost in the past. in the end, it was a special, destined event, just not the kind kuroo had hoped for.

it hurt, almost as much as your break-up, but kuroo knew he would be able to manage it.

“well, this is me,” you smiled, turning back to him. “it was so good to see you, kuroo. really.”

“you too,” he nodded, pausing awkwardly, before deciding to spread his arms as an invitation for you to hug him. you laughed and leaned forward, allowing yourself to be engulfed by his arms. for a minute, you remembered standing in the middle of his apartment, wearing kuroo’s sweatshirt again.

“i’m happy for you, y/n. i truly am,” kuroo whispered.

“me too,” you leaned back. “we got everything we wanted.” just, not each other, kuroo added as an afterthought.

“take care!” you waved, pushing your luggage cart to where your fiancee was parked. kuroo watched from a distance as your fiancee stepped out of his car and greeted you with a hug and a kiss, before helping place your luggage in the trunk. for a moment, kuroo had a vision of him being the one greeting you at the airport, saying something like ‘welcome home, y/n,’ but it disappeared as quickly as it came.

this encounter with you in the airport had already become a part of his past.

kuroo picked up his luggage again, dragging it behind him as he walked back into the airport. it was late and he still had a flight to catch.

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nerdyfangirl67 · 4 years

Text

A Christmas with You - NCIS Reader Insert (12 Days of Christmas)

Pairing: Tony DiNozzo x reader

Warnings: depressed mood, language

Word count: 1713

A/N: Y/H/T means your hometown. I was really excited about this one, but the ending feels forced to me. Anyways, here is my next installment of my 12 Days of Christmas mini-series! (FYI, I totally imagine Tony smiling at the reader like this!)

You stare at the flight departure board, an overwhelming feeling of disappointment and melancholy sweeping over you as you see the words FLIGHT CANCELLED following your flight number. This was the first chance you had had in years to go home for the holidays, and you had been so excited. You can’t even remember the last time you had seen some of your family members and you had been stoked at the idea of seeing them, and their children (many of whom you hadn’t even had the chance to meet). Yet here you stand, all those hopes dashed as your flight, as well as a dozen or so others departing from the Ronald Reagan Washington National Airport within the next few hours, is grounded due to inclement weather.

You cast a look at the customer service desk for the airline you had been flying and let out a soft groan. The line was already long and it was continuing to grow. You pick up your bag, which was full of wrapped presents for your family, and your suitcase, making your way to the end of the line. If you were lucky, you’d still be able to get a flight home, albeit one that put you a day late.

--- Two hours. You had waited two hours in line to speak with a customer service representative, who quickly referred you to a phone and a number for an agent of the airline. That phone call led to a series of transfers, and an hour on hold, only for you to be told that, because of the weather, no flights could be guaranteed with a new departure date. You had hung up quickly after that, the frustration of not being able to get a flight home clouding over the need for details about a refund.

You angrily sling your duffle bag over your shoulder, heedlessly dragging your suitcase behind you as you make your way back out to the parking lot, letting your family know, with a quick text, that you wouldn’t be making it as you go. Reaching the sliding doors, you do a double-take as the frigid winter wind smacks you in the face. You pull on the gloves you had shoved in your pocket and hunch up your shoulders against the wind as you speed walk through three parking lots to where you’d parked your car only a few hours earlier. The snow starts swirling just as you fire up your car. Upbeat Christmas music fills the car as you start on the drive back to your apartment. You change the station a few different times, each switch bringing on a new Christmas song. You eventually shut the radio off, sick of the festive music, as you go the last ten minutes of drive in complete silence.

You reach your apartment, finding no empty parking spots near the front of the building. You drive around for a few minutes until you can find a parking space, a good two blocks from your actual building. A string of expletives flies from your lips as you struggle to get your bags out of the front seat, and continues as you fight the wind and snow to your apartment building.

Then, as if the day couldn’t get any worse, you find that the building’s elevator is out of order (something that had to have happened in the few hours you had been gone, as you had taken it down to the lobby earlier that day). You curse a few more times as you make your way up five flights to the fifth floor of the building. You arrive at your front door, fumbling with your keys for a few moments for getting a solid grasp on them and unlocking your door. You shut your door harder than you intend to, causing some of the framed pictures on the wall shared with the door to rattle, as you drop your bags by the door.

--- After changing into some sweats, shutting off your phone, and cocooning under your favorite blanket, you turn on a sappy romantic movie. An hour into the movie, you decide to order some take-out from your favorite restaurant, hoping some comfort food would ease the ache of disappointment in your chest. The take-out comes almost an hour later, and after paying the delivery man, you take the food back over to your ‘nest’ on the couch.

A knock sounds on your door shortly after you sit with your bags full of take-out. You huff out a sigh as you set down the food and make your way back to your front door. You open the door to find a very surprised looking Tony DiNozzo. He had one hand held awkwardly behind his back, his normally styled hair disheveled, and the top buttons of his dress shirt were undone.

His face relaxes when he sees you and he brings the hand from behind his back up to rest on the door jam. “I thought you left.” He states simply. “I just wanted to make sure no one was breaking in while you were gone.” The relaxed smile that hung on his face made a warm feeling blossom in your chest.

You let out a sarcastic laugh. “My flight was canceled.” You leave Tony standing in the doorway as you go to the fridge and pull out two beers. You hand one to Tony, who is now standing in your living room. “Thank you for checking on my apartment. You didn’t have to do that.”

You take a long pull of your beer as Tony asks, “What happened?”

“That storm that rolled in grounded flights and made any rescheduled flights uncertain. It’s been years since I’ve been home and it looks like it will be one more before I can get to Y/H/T.” You say, moving to the table and taking your food out of the brown paper bags.

“You want to stay for dinner?” You ask, looking up, expecting to see Tony, but instead, you were greeted with nothing but your empty doorway. Of course, what’s one more thing going wrong on this already shitty day. The guy whom you had a massive crush on, and also happened to be your neighbor, just left at the sight of your slow descent towards a breakdown.

You roll your eyes at his weird behavior, getting up to close the apartment door. You are just about to swing it shut when a slightly breathless Tony reappears. He’s wearing a jacket and holding a duffle bag in his hand.

“What in the actual-” You start, completely perplexed at his behavior.

“Grab your boots, jacket, and bag.” He states as if it is obvious that is what you should be doing.

You do so hesitantly, wondering if you knew enough about Tony to follow him without question. You knew he was a federal agent, he enjoyed movies, he was suave, handsome, and a real flirt, and you knew he had a sophisticated taste (you had seen the inside of his apartment, after all).

You pull on your boots and jacket, slinging your duffle bag over your shoulder, as Tony takes your suitcase in hand. “Tony, what are we doing?” You ask a moment of clarity washing over you, bringing you to question Tony’s actions.

Tony gives you a look before asking you a question of his own. “Do you trust me?” You know that the answer will tell Tony so much more than what your words do, yet you answer truthfully.

“Yes.” You say softly, staring into his almost emerald color eyes. Aside from the mischievous glint you had grown accustomed to, his eyes held another, deeper emotion that you couldn’t quite place. Or rather, you felt that you felt you knew what that emotion was, but the rational side of yourself knew better than to look any deeper into it.

He extends a hand out to you, which you take without hesitation. Although he does it in a platonic, friendly way, you feel anything but platonically towards him as you hold his hand all the way to the front door of the building.

“You ready doll?” He asks, zipping up his jacket all the way in preparation for the snow that was blowing outside.

You nod, confused at what the two of you were doing with your bags, heading into a snowstorm. He grabs your hand, pulling you quickly out in the storm, towards his vehicle, in one of the prime parking spots in front of the building. Tony gestures to the passenger side as he takes your duffle off your shoulder.

“Get in, I’ll throw these in the trunk.” He says, as you climb in the car. Tony gets in a few moments later, settling in the driver’s seat and turning the car on as he does so.

“Tony?” You question softly, turning slightly in your seat to look him in the eyes. “What are we doing?”

Tony gives you a satisfied half-smile. “Why, doll, we’re getting you home for Christmas.”

You quirk an eyebrow at him. “Tony, we are in the middle of a blizzard.”

“It’s going to stop snowing in a few hours.” He says, squeezing your hand as he turns his attention back to the car as he adds. “And it doesn’t matter if it’s snowing or not. I won’t let you miss Christmas with your family.”

His words make your heart swell and tears spring to your eyes as you are overcome with happiness. A feeling of complete wholeness sweeps over you. “Tony. You don’t have to do this.” You say, your voice rough with emotion.

“I want to do it for you doll.” He murmurs as he pulls onto the street, giving you a brief look before looking back at the road. “Besides, if anyone deserves a Christmas miracle, it’s you.” He grabs your hand after saying that, lacing his fingers through yours.

You didn’t know how you got lucky enough to have Tony in your life, or to have the chance to actually see your family, after your hopes had been dashed earlier that day, but you hope that this ‘Christmas miracle’, as Tony put it, turns into something more. Something that will last long after Christmas comes and goes.

#ncis #ncis fanfic #ncis fanfiction #ncis fandom #ncis reader #ncis reader insert #ncis x reader #ncis x you #tony dinozzo #anthony dinozzo #anthony dinozzo x reader #anthony dinozzo reader insert #tony dinozzo x reader #tony x reader #tony dinozzo x you #tony x you #dinozzo #dinozzo reader insert #dinozzo x you

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donaidk · 4 years

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Rhythm of Time - Part VI

Hiya everyone! 😊 I thought it will be a good way to celebrate season 3 of DTS coming out finally, with aother chapter to this story. With the Lando series almost done I had some time to finally get the ideas written out, and it will also be easier to get more chapters out from now on. Thank you in advance for reading and I hope you guys will like it 🥰🧡

Slight TW: abuse, fighting, shouting

Part V | You’re here | Part VII

Masterlist | Taglist/Queue | Request

Even though what Corinna told me just made everything a bit more confusing, in the end I still enjoyed our little coffee chat. It was all awkward for a few seconds when Mick joined us, wrapping up the meeting earlier than intended, although I tried with all my power not to show any signs towards him. He didn’t seem to notice and his mum was a professional about keeping our talking topics far away from anything that would have put me in an awkward position. I was grateful for that bit of help from her, knowing full well I will put myself in a position like that anyways as soon as we were left alone together. She saved me a few minutes of embarrassment.

“ I really hope it wasn’t too bad talking to her. ” Mick let out a sigh as we left the elevator, walking to our rooms. “ She likes to know my team on a more personal level. I’m a bit surprised actually that she left you out until now. ” He let out a laugh, still looking at me as I stopped in front of my door with a small smile getting on my face.

“ It wasn’t half as bad as I thought it would be. She’s a great person and in a way I’m happy we had a chat. ” I shrugged a little, sliding my keycard over the sensor and pushing my door in a bit. “ Maybe she saw how well I can deal with you and thought it wasn’t necessary to help me, until now. ” I added with a laugh, knowing he will take it as a joke and I won’t be kicking myself for bringing up something like this.

“ But now you need all her tips? Am I that bad? ” He asked back, making me laugh again while opening his own door, although he didn’t look away from me. “ Lunch? ” I almost immediately agreed to his mentioned idea, when I realized what day it was.

“ I would love to, but I have to meet up with Aurélie. She asked me to be on her podcast. ” I shook my head a little, although I was still too excited to really care about missing out on a meal together, or anything else. “ But we can have dinner at the airport before the flight? ” I offered to him before we would bid goodbye to each other.

“ Oh, that sounds interesting. Is that the one Claire was on? The fans seemed to love it. ” He asked and I nodded as an answer, taking my phone out of my pocket when it started ringing. It was the one person we just mentioned, probably to get to know if I was ready or not. “ Go, don’t make her wait. Text me if you have some energy left for dinner. ” He quickly added, before I took the call and entered my room fully.

I quickly told Aurélie that I will need a minute or two to get to her as my things were still scattered around the room. I wanted to get everything ready for our flight in the evening, before doing anything else that I know will take up my whole afternoon at best. Rushing was something I hated with all my heart, meaning my baggage was usually ready for departure hours before we had to get to the airport rather than putting it all together just minutes before we left the hotel. I’ve never felt regret this way and also never ran late because of luggage packing since I used this method.

Just as I finally arrived at Aurélie’s door a message lit up on my phone, but I just knocked on the wood and let out a laugh when she opened it for me. She already got everything set up, only needing me to sit down and make sure I know how the recording will go. It wasn’t anything special and I was excited enough to go with anything she planned for the day. When she even got me a cup of coffee I felt completely content and was all ready to start the conversation of all the topics she gathered for us to talk about.

“ In a way I’m relieved we didn’t drink too much last night. I would feel miserable to make us sit here for the next one or two hours. ” Aurélie let out a laugh as I leant back in my chair, the microphone standing on the table right in front of me. “ Oh, right. Before we start. Any topics that are off limits? ” She asked, sitting down across from me on another chair.

“ Can’t really think of anything. If something comes up I will deal with it. You know, I was PR trained quite well. ” I laughed, taking one last sip from the coffee I got before fully focusing on her questions.

I listened through the intro waiting for the sign to quickly welcome everyone, before Aurélie got on with the questions. We went over almost everything that could be connected to how I got into the career I had in F1. We went over what my job consists of and how an actual work week and day looks like for me. I knew she would like me to touch on how I got into this business and immediately understood why she would ask about topics I wouldn’t like to mention. People usually studied hard and tried several times to get into one of the teams, while I was in a way just unlucky and then lucky with being part of this group as a kid already. Right before she would mention my past she shot me a questioning gaze, but I just nodded with a smile on my face. It was in the past and I processed it enough to be able to talk about it openly, without leaving anything out.

“ The most asked question is how someone could get into Formula 1 as a driver. The second one for most people is usually about how they can just get into F1 at any level. We can mostly only talk about the second one. ” Aurélie introduced the topic change and I fixed my posture a little. “ I know you didn’t follow the normal pathing but I don’t think we ever heard the full story from you before. ” She prompted me, giving me all the control of how much I wanted to share with the people.

“ I don’t know what is suitable for your listeners, so just cut out the parts that are too much. ” I started, collecting my thoughts about how to build the story up. “ So, I got into F1 when I was really young. My father got into the sport as a sponsor with his brand even before I was born. Back then he had mostly clean intentions which got us to a part in my life where I started university and also got a job thanks to him in Haas. I didn’t get to travel with them but I also didn’t have to do much. Mostly it just gave me experience and I also enjoyed working in a team with so many other great people. It felt like a dream come true for around a year. ” I let out a sigh not knowing if she wants me to go deeper into something or not.

“ You haven’t studied public relations at uni, right? ” Aurélie asked, getting me to shake my head.

“ At this point not yet. That’s something that came after the unlucky part. The part where the Hackett brand almost went down the drain and my father tried to save it by playing around with contracts and payments, using me too in a way. ” I clarified, moving around a little as although it did make me uncomfortable to remember everything, I learned to shake myself out of it. �� As soon as I realised what’s happening I stepped away from him and luckily found a few people inside the team who stood up for me. This meant while he was found out and banned from working with any F1 teams I got to keep my position. That’s when I realised PR was a lot more interesting than what I was doing until then and thanks to my mentor’s support I could try myself out in that department too. ” I added with a smile, as mentioning Erica always lifted my spirits even though we weren’t working next to each other anymore.

“ Do you think him and the Hackett name was something that held you back in this community? ” She asked, putting down her papers and I suspected that it was a question off of the top of her head.

“ Not really. I stood up against him enough times for people to see that I wasn’t supporting him. Most of the time I just told them ‘If you see the Hackett name anywhere just run before even thinking about signing anything’. That’s partially why I changed my name too, taking up my mum’s name, to leave everything behind. ” I explained more to the future listeners than her, as she already knew all of this. “ I still can’t understand how there are still some F2 and F3 teams who willingly just walk into his traps, even today. I don’t see his private papers or plans anymore, but I can tell you the brand is still on the verge of a complete breakdown and he has nothing to really give his ‘clients’. ” I shook my head a little, taking another sip from my coffee while Aurélie got us onto another part of her notes. In a way I hoped people would listen to what I said and it could start another wave of hatred towards him, although I knew that was a bit too much to ask and also not something I would achieve alone.

After half an hour we were already wrapping up the episode with a few last words and then saying goodbye. I never really listened to podcasts, but taking part in one did get me interested a bit. After having a quick sandwich for lunch, as we didn’t have time for more during the recording, I was looking forward to the promised dinner. The team was already at the airport when I arrived with all my bags and suitcases, getting a bit of help over the phone from Mick to find them. I was happy to finally sit down and have a real meal, as the day turned out to be a lot more packed than how I imagined it yesterday. Knowing that I will have enough time to sleep on the plane before arriving, opting not to have a coffee and just give into my tiredness after a great meal.

After getting onto the plane I took my usual seat, waiting for the others to get set as well. I was surprised for a second when Mick set down across from me, but seeing how some of the team had to have a little meeting with the other driver, I realised it was the only free one for him. I didn’t mind anyways as he was quite a sound traveling partner during all our previous flights. We both had our things to catch up on, not bothering the other while we worked and neither when we chose to have a nap at the same time. Plane chairs were never the best things to sleep on and I woke up several times to either being too cold or just uncomfortable. By the time we were landing I woke with a hoodie draped over me which smelled quite familiar. As I sat up a bit straighter it fell off my shoulders and by the design I could recognise it as one that Mick wore regularly.

“ I hope you don’t mind. You were shivering and I didn’t have anything else. ” He let out a shaky laugh as I finally looked forward and our eyes met. “ We’re landing in a few minutes, so stay awake now. ” He added and I nodded my head, covering my mouth as a yawn took over me.

“ Thank you. I should have taken a blanket from the front, but as usual, I forgot. ” I shook my head a little, handing him back the hoodie and packing my laptop bag before clicking my seatbelt together. “ I will need a bit more sleep than I thought. ” My head fell back as soon as I didn’t try fighting gravity and let it move on it’s own.

“ You have a week to catch up on sleep. ” He gave me a smile as I just rolled my eyes, looking out the window afterwards. “ It’s not like there’s a lot to do before race weekends. ” He shrugged while letting out a laugh, although he stopped as soon as I took back his hoodie and balling it up threw it back at him again, hitting him square in the face. Shame it was such a soft wool material that it wouldn’t even hurt a fly.

“ Not for you, lazy ass. Some people have to work in order to give you your week worth of rest. ” I rolled my eyes again, crossing my arms in front of my chest but I was ready to defend myself if he dared to continue our little ‘fight’. “ I would gladly take your sleeping schedule over mine. ” I sighed, watching as he folded the hoodie again, putting it away into his own bag.

“ Well, that means you will have to take my training and work schedule as well. ” Mick offered, his eyebrow rising just a tad bit as a challenge. “ You would be knocking on my door after two days, begging to change everything back. ” He warned me but I only squinted my eyes at him, not backing down from the idea we just created.

“ We’re not doing this… not during the season. ” I pointed my finger at him, as he just let out a laugh. “ However, I’m not gonna forget about this. Don’t even dare to think about that. We’re trying it as soon as the season is over. ” I promised, reaching out my hand for him to shake it. Although after a second of thinking, his palm met mine and we shook on the quickly made plans.

“ You’re gonna regret this, pretty quickly. ” Mick shook his head but he couldn’t change my mind. If i decided on doing something I usually at least tried, but never gave up and just forgot about it. Even less if it was a bet or a challenge by a friend or closer co-worker. Mick ticking both of the boxes and us having an already bickering friendship was the perfect cause to push me into my usual mindset.

The workload of course wasn’t as heavy as on a normal race weekend for the next 7 days, although it was still enough to keep me on my feet for almost 10 hours every day. The remaining time was spent either doing some sports or just relaxing with a few friends from other teams. We did have a repeat of our bar nights, knowing that we will have enough time on Saturday to sleep in and get ourselves into a presentable state by the time the teams would need us for the following race week. I was a bit surprised but at the same time pleased that Mick tagged along, becoming a true member of our little group, fitting in quite well with George and Dan. I was glad he found a few close friends among us that he could search out whenever he needed us.

By the time qualification was over and the last interview underway I was already physically tired again, and my biggest dream was a fluffy bed for a good night’s sleep. However, I had to wait for him to finish with the questions, standing next to him and listening closely to both what was asked and how he answered. When the reporter ran out of questions there was a genuine smile on my face as we bid goodbye, getting out of the media pen and towards the paddock.

“ I’ll catch up with a few people, but you should go back to the hotel before you drop dead. ” He offered to which I could only nod, sliding my phone into my pocket. “ See you tomorrow. ” He gave me a last smile before turning to the side as I continued my walk back to our garage.

Getting my things together took twice the time it should have, and when I finally had everything in my bag the thought of having to endure a car ride still made me shiver. I felt like I would drop to the ground any minute, staying there until the morning at least. I didn’t get far from our garage although I was almost at the parking lot when someone caught my arm and pulled me back, a surprised scream leaving my lungs. As I was confused about why anyone would choose to push me around instead of just calling me over, panic set in almost immediately and I tried getting my arm out of the grip it was in. My hazy mind couldn’t even register the shouting voice, and I only realized who was standing in front of me when he yanked on me harder than ever before and I got face to face with him.

“ Who do you think you are, talking about family and private business? ” He shouted at me, my ears ringing for seconds afterwards. “ Getting rid of the name doesn’t mean you can run around giving information to everyone. ” My own father barked at me while his palm tightened around my right wrist. I could only wince at the sudden pain that shot through my hand before he tried shaking me to get me to talk, before pushing me into the wall full force.

“ You did everything for yourself. Maybe try living your life decently and you won’t have to hide everything. ” I answered his rhetorical question, knowing full well it will only anger him more, making my situation even worse.

Just as I was about to look up at him, my mind perking up from the adrenaline like it gave me a huge energy booster, my eyes closed on instinct seconds before his palm connected with the side of my face. Even if we never had a perfect father-kids relationship with him he never ever physically hurt us, until now, as he decided to start it with me. My lips parted both in pain and disbelief after realizing what actually happened. He quickly went back to shouting at me with a speed my mind couldn’t follow, his words flying right past me although I probably didn’t miss anything important. I was bracing myself for another slap when I distinguished another voice, that sounded just as angry as the one in front of me, and as I forced my eyes open I could see my father getting pushed away.

A part of me was curious about who managed to walk by with the perfect timing, but as soon as the atmosphere around me calmed down a bit a sob broke out of me and I slid down the wall until I was sitting on the ground. I didn’t even care about my stuff getting dirty as it all lay around me, and I only had energy to pull up and hug my knees. I wanted to be invisible in that second even if I knew nothing bad would happen anymore as I could sense not just one but multiple people around me. I didn’t even object against someone hugging me, the security of it calming down my crying to just rapid breathing as I moved into the embrace fully, my eyes staying shut although I wouldn’t have been able to see anything by the shoulder I borrowed my face into.

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slapshot-to-the-heart · 4 years

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Breakable Heaven (pt. IV) - p.l. dubois

part I part II part III

Oh my gosh, I seriously can’t believe this little series has come to an end. I’m so so happy with how it’s turned out, and want to thank anyone who’s stuck with Laurel and Pierre-Luc throughout this month. It’s one of my favorite things I’ve ever done, and it’s yours to enjoy now. Please please let me know what you think of this part, what you think about the series - getting anon comments is amazing, my inbox is always open, and I LOVE reading tags. Reblog if you like what I’m putting out, it helps me know that!

Warning: Smut (It’s light, but it’s there, so no one under 18 please!)

Part IV (7.8k)

September 23 (thurs)

Laurel was running through the Toronto airport, her carry-on bag bouncing on the tile behind her as she frantically searched for her gate. Thank God Air Canada domestic flew from the international terminal; her layover was only an hour and ten minutes and even more time had been shaved off by a departure delay in Montréal. She had forgotten that flights from Toronto cleared U.S. Customs in Canada, and if she hadn’t been able to skip the line and slap her American passport on a kiosk reader she would have almost certainly missed her connection.

No matter how many times Laurel had tried to insist on an economy ticket when she and Pierre were booking flights for her visits, he refused to cave. “They don’t include a checked bag in economy, but they do if you fly business,” he had said, shrugging, with a small smile on his face. “Baggage fees alone would make it pretty much a wash.” Laurel doubted that, and she doubted that she’d need a checked bag for a four-day trip, but her husband had made it clear that he wasn’t budging.

So needless to say, she was more than a little bit out of breath as she finally arrived at Gate F66, which was conveniently almost as far away from her arrival gate as humanly possible while still being in the same terminal. She handed her boarding pass and passport to the gate agent, smiling apologetically as she hurried down the jetbridge. It was barely past noon, but there was nothing in the world Laurel wanted more than to sleep. Maintaining a full-time schedule at the hospital while also trying to organize a trip to Columbus that lasted more than two days meant she had to switch shifts. Normally, that wouldn’t be an issue; that week, however, the only open slot was the 12-hour overnight shift on Wednesday. Which meant that she’d been awake for some twenty hours straight, but almost all of that had been on her feet at work, or walking from the parking lot to the check-in counter in Montréal, or running through the halls of Pearson Airport in Toronto. She took her seat, half-listened to the safety briefing, and passed out as soon as her head hit the headrest.

Much to her chagrin, the flight itself was only just over an hour, and she was really only able to get in a generous nap before their descent into Ohio. Sitting in the second row, she exited the plane in record time, flicking her phone off of airplane mode and waiting for a text from Pierre-Luc. At least she didn’t have to go through TSA again. He wrote back in record time, letting her know he’d be in his car at the curb right outside the terminal. She waited at baggage claim, grabbing her forest green suitcase; the same one she had when she’d moved to Toronto for university, fresh-faced and 18 and so, so unaware of what the world had in store for her. If only she could see herself now. Laurel ran her thumb along the side handle for a moment, pulling at a loose thread, before hefting it onto the floor and turning towards the sliding exit doors.

As promised, Pierre was waiting right outside the door, flashing her a bright smile and throwing the driver’s side door open as soon as he saw her. “Welcome to Columbus, babe!” he exclaimed, wrapping Laurel into a deep hug and kissing her on the cheek.

She laughed as the trunk popped open, each of them grabbing a suitcase. “It’s a little bit funny, don’t you think? That I’ve lived in the Midwest for almost my whole life and the first time I go to Ohio it’s because I’m living in Canada?”

“Maybe just a little bit,” Pierre said, holding his thumb and pointer finger about an inch apart. “I’m really happy you were able to come, though, Laurel. I got used to having you around.” His face was softer now, looking over at Laurel with an expression that wasn’t quite placable but seemed like it was somehow communicating so much in a single glance.

“Me too,” Laurel replied. The ride to Pierre’s Columbus apartment took just over ten minutes, and Laurel was in the door, petting the dogs, before the clock struck 3:00.

Pierre approached her from behind, his hands on her shoulders as he leaned around to kiss her on the cheek. “You want to take a nap?” he asked. “We’ve got that thing with the team at 7, and I know you’re probably running on fumes right now.”

Laurel nodded, giving him a weary smile, dropping her bag on the floor of the master bedroom with an all-too-satisfying thump. “Nap sounds good.”

---

The nap was good, so good, and Laurel woke up at half past 6 feeling like she’d just had the best sleep of her life. She yawned, rubbing her eyes, and looked around the room to see Pierre with his back towards her, buttoning up his shirt. He turned around, catching her eye, and grinned. “You like the view?” he asked, gesturing to his half-naked torso.

Laurel rolled her eyes, pulling the sheets up to poorly conceal her embarrassment at being caught. “And if I do?”

She heard a loud laugh, peeking her head out from under. “I’d say my wife has every right to appreciate it.” He walked around the bed while fastening the last few buttons, holding his hand out for Laurel to take. “I let you sleep as long as I could, but we’re going to have to get going in fifteen minutes or so. I was told that ‘we’ve waited this long to meet her, the least you could do is get your damn wife to the party in time,’” he said, adding air quotes for emphasis.

Laurel nodded, tossing back the covers and walking over to her suitcase, intending to rifle through the stacks of clothes to find something for the night’s festivities. Instead, she was greeted by an empty bag. She wheeled around to look at Pierre, who was sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck as he stared at her suitcase. “I unpacked your stuff,” he said, nodding over towards the spare dresser. “It’s in there. I’m sorry if that seems weird and I won’t do it again if you feel like that was pushing your boundaries, but I know for me when I’m on roadies I like to unpack, even if it’s just one night. Makes it feel more like home.”

Laurel was too overcome with how sweet the gesture was, small as it may have been, to realize that that meant he had touched four days worth of bras and underwear. It shouldn’t have bothered him anyways, and if he hadn’t said anything about it, it clearly hadn’t. So instead, she pulled him into a warm hug, standing on her tiptoes to bury her face in the crook of his neck. “Thank you, P. One less thing I have to do.”

“You do still have to actually get dressed, though,” he added, giving her sleepwear an appreciative once-over. “Unless you’re planning on wearing that.”

She let out a giggle. “As much as I love wearing a massive Cloquet High Lumberjacks t-shirt and no pants, somehow I don’t think that’s the move,” she said, ambling over towards the dresser. She found the tops on the first try, pulling out a wine-colored wrap shirt and grabbing the same pair of light-wash jeans she had worn on the plane. Pierre moved to duck out of the room, presumably to give her privacy to change. Laurel made a split-second decision to call after him. “You don’t have to leave.” Pierre stopped in his tracks.

Laurel slipped the shirt on, tying it in the front, and fastened her jeans. Mascara on and booties zippered, and she was good to go. “So what is this thing, anyways?” she asked Pierre as they drove to Foligno’s house.

Pierre tilted his head. “Little bit of this, little bit of that. Half the typical beginning-of-the-year preseason party, half the wedding reception we never had. They were very insistent on bringing gifts, so be prepared.”

“Will do,” she said, laughing. “And by they, you mean…”

“Some of the guys, but mostly the wives and girlfriends. Their parties are the stuff of legends, so you can imagine how excited everyone was when I told them we never had a proper reception.”

“But they don’t know why we didn’t have a proper party,” Laurel reminded him.

“About that…” Pierre started, his bottom lip caught between his teeth.

Laurel froze, her thumb hovering over her phone screen, halfway through composing a text to Kristen. “Pierre,” she swallowed, her voice deadly soft, “did you tell someone?”

---

It was the Saturday before, and the team had gone out to celebrate the end of the first week of training camp. Sunday was an off day, so Saturday night found all the over-21s — and anyone who could get a good enough fake — at a bar in the city. Pierre had just crossed the line into tipsy, and as his captain was about to find out, tipsy Pierre was an oversharer. It was common enough for families to be a topic of discussion on nights out or in the locker room; that wasn’t the issue. The issue was that, as the old adage goes, drunk words are sober thoughts. And, if he was being honest, Pierre was still harboring some guilt from having to hide the truth of his and Laurel’s marriage from everyone, Nick included. Pierre hated that he couldn’t tell Nick the truth. He was his captain and his friend, and he felt the least he owed to him was not to lie.

“It’s just so weird being away from Laurel, away from Montréal, for this long,” Pierre sighed.

“Sure,” Nick said sympathetically, “but you said you’d been friends for a few years, so you’ve had feelings for her for a while, no? It’s obviously not ideal, but you’ve been away from her for longer.”

Pierre turned towards Nick, some of his beer — his fourth of the night — spilling out of the cup. “Can I tell you a secret?”

Nick rolled his eyes, thinking he was going to be hearing some dumb high school confession, that he had asked out a senior girl when he was a freshman, or filled his QMJHL captain’s gloves with shaving cream or something. He didn’t expect what he heard next.

“We got married so she could stay in the country, for her permanent residency. I never met her before June.”

Nick sucked in a breath. “You’re not fucking with me, are you?”

“Nope.”

“You realize how much trouble you guys could get into if they figure out, right?” he asked.

Pierre nodded, looking down at his clasped hands nervously. “We both do. But you’re not going to tell anyone, right?”

“No, of course not,” Nick said. “I trust you, and I know you and Laurel were just doing what you thought was the best and most logical thing given the circumstances.” Pierre let out a somber nod. “But,” he continued, “I feel like this whole...situation just leaves open the opportunity for things to get really messy really quickly.”

“Messy how?” Pierre asked.

Nick shifted uncomfortably in his chair, looking at a spot just beyond Pierre’s head. He didn’t want to, not really, but it was his job as Pierre’s captain — more importantly as his friend — to make him consider every angle. “Someone catching feelings, one of you falling for the other, or God forbid, someone else. There’s already so much at stake in a ‘normal’ marriage, but yours just has added complications.” Pierre felt a twinge in his heart. He didn’t want to admit it, he really didn’t want to admit it, but Nick was right. “Do you love her?” Nick asked softly.

Pierre sunk back into his chair. “I don’t know. She means a lot to me, more than I ever thought she would, but I don’t know. Plus, I have no clue how she feels about me, and I wouldn’t want to say something like that only to have her pull away.”

“Did you guys talk about that?” he asked.

“About what?” Pierre responded.

“About what would happen if one of you caught feelings. Because I’m assuming it was supposed to, is supposed to, be a strictly platonic thing.”

Pierre shrugged. “Not really. We didn’t like make a pact or anything, if that’s what you’re asking. We really didn’t talk much about it at all,” he said, finishing his beer. “I mean, obviously we agreed that we wouldn’t be seeing anyone else, dating or hooking up or anything like that. It was just too risky. But no, we never really addressed how we’d deal with it if one of us ended up...falling for each other. I guess it was just supposed to be a ‘we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it’ type of thing.”

“And have you come to it?” Nick asked.

“I don’t know.”

---

Pierre finished the story, hazarding a glance over to Laurel, who was wringing her hands as she looked out the windshield. “I’m not mad at you,” she said finally. “If Nick said he wouldn’t tell, I trust you when you say he won’t. One of us was bound to let it slip eventually.”

He turned his eyes back towards the road, still feeling a pang of regret. She was almost being too good to him. “We’ll be okay,” he said, saying it just as much to himself as he did to her.

Laurel gave him a small smile as they pulled into the Foligno’s house, parking on the stone-paved driveway. “We will be.”

Janelle opened the door practically the second after they knocked, greeting Pierre and Laurel with warm hugs. “Laurel, it’s so wonderful to finally meet you,” she said, squeezing her hand. “We know how hard it is to find the time off and make the trip down, and everyone’s excited to see you.” She led them through the entryway to the living room, where Laurel was passed around to some twenty-odd players and their partners, where she introduced herself over and over again as “Pierre’s wife, yes the nurse from Minnesota who none of you knew existed.”

Dinner was a barbeque outside, Nick, Pierre, and some of the others manning the three grills as Laurel helped set up the drinks table. He held her hand under the table as they ate, his thumb gently rubbing across her thigh every so often in reassurance. “You good?” he murmured in his ear as Laurel sipped a beer, half-listening to some story Korpi was telling about a near-miss incident with a water ski back in Finland during the summer.

Laurel nodded, squeezing his fingers. “I’m good.”

Plates were cleared, dishes were washed, and everyone was herded into Nick and Janelle’s enormous family room, where a small mountain of wrapped boxes and bags sat in the far corner. “I don’t know if you know this,” Janelle said conspiratorially as Laurel sat down, “but NHLers make more than a little money.”

She laughed. “So I’ve been told.”

“Which means that, clueless though they may be, you’re going to be getting some very nice presents.”

And very nice presents they were. A wine club membership, a set of dutch ovens from Seth — “It was my mom’s suggestion” — Jones, an espresso machine from Boone, a set of matching, personalized dog bowls for Phil, Georgia, and Piper. Laurel honestly wasn’t sure how it was all going to fit in the car, let alone how she was going to manage to stay under the baggage limit on her way back to Canada, but the thought and kindness that went into each gift was what really made it special.

“From me and the other girls,” Janelle said, passing Laurel a bag.

“Oh, this is too much,” Laurel said. “You already got the knives and the mixer, I don’t need anything else.”

Cam’s wife, Natalie, shrugged. “Would it help if we made it, didn’t buy it?”

Laurel’s brow furrowed in confusion, her fingers moving to undo the ribbon that tied the handles together, taking out the tissue paper. “Oh!” she gasped quietly as she pulled out a denim jacket, a Blue Jackets logo ironed onto the back, Dubois embroidered where a name bar would be. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“You’re still a part of the family,” Natalie said, smiling. “Even if you’re not here all the time. We want you to feel as included as anyone else.”

Laurel folded up the jacket carefully, tucking it back in the bag as Josh walked up to Pierre, holding out a small box, clearly wrapped by himself. “Well now I just feel silly.”

Pierre shook his head, smiling at his friend. “Don’t, Josh. I’m sure we’ll love it.” He thumbed open the folds on the wrapping paper, setting it aside before pulling off the top of the box. He fell silent.

Laurel peeked over, trying to catch a glimpse of the box’s contents. “What is it, P?”

Instead of answering, Pierre just held the box upside-down. Condoms of all colors and sizes rained down onto the hardwood floor as Pierre stared at Josh, clearly trying very hard not to laugh. The side of his mouth twitched. “Interesting choice of gift, you don’t think?” he asked.

Josh shrugged helplessly, his cheeks red. “It’s practical?”

November 28 (sun)

Laurel caught every Blue Jackets game she could on the TV, even the ones in early November when Pierre was out for a few games with a mild concussion. She was his wife, but she was also a nurse, and made sure to get daily updates on his condition, restraining herself from FaceTiming him to help limit his amount of daily screen time. But he had been back for a few weeks, making second star of the night with a goal and an assist, so naturally he was pulled away for a few postgame interviews.

Laurel watched the screen, trying not to get distracted by the sweat drenching his Underarmour. Reporters, the good ones at least, were usually considerate with steering clear of asking personal questions, but sometimes an injury, or the birth of a child, or, as luck would have it, a wedding, begged an answer. “So, Pierre, I think a lot of us were surprised to see you announce on Instagram that you had gotten married this summer. Congratulations, by the way,” the journalist from the Dispatch said.

“Thanks,” Pierre replied, smiling.

“And I hope I speak for everyone here when saying that we entirely respect you and your wife’s decision to keep things quiet and announce it in a much more subdued fashion than usual. Players often speak a lot about how integral support from family and friends is, and just how important it is to have that kind of a support system in place.” Pierre could see where the question was going. “Obviously you’ve got the boys down here, but it doesn’t look like your wife Laurel is based in Columbus like you are. Is there a reason for that, and do you think that’s affected your game?”

Pierre sucked in a breath; it was a fair question, and a reasonable assumption to make, but that didn’t mean he liked answering it any more. But it was almost suspicious how quickly he had an answer. “Uh, yeah, it’s been interesting for us to have to navigate. You’re right, Laurel’s back in Montréal, she spends most of her time at our place in the city. She’s a nurse in the intensive care unit of CHU Saint-Justine, so she does pediatrics there. She loves what she does, and she’s so good at it, and it just wouldn’t be right of me to ever ask or expect her to leave on my account. I know we’ve got a great hospital at Nationwide Children’s, but she loves where she is. We both do. So yeah, it’s rough being away sometimes, but luckily she’s able to move shifts around and make it down twice a month or so when we’re not on the road. But we keep in contact daily, obviously, and I’m able to lean on the guys, especially the other married ones, on how to deal with the stress of being away for so long. But it’s rough. I miss my wife,” Pierre finished.

Laurel clicked the remote, turning the TV off, her hand scratching behind Piper’s ears, and tried not to replay his words in her mind as she crawled into bed and fell asleep.

December 18 (sat)

Laurel stumbled through the door of Pierre’s Columbus apartment, laughing breathlessly as she tried to lock the deadbolt. “You need some help there, L?” Pierre asked, raising one eyebrow.

“I’m good,” Laurel said, taking two more tries before it would actually lock. The eggnog from the Christmas party was starting to take its toll; Pierre had agreed to be the pair’s designated driver for the night, so she had had maybe a glass too many. The night had genuinely been so much fun, Laurel had initially been worried at how well she might fit in with the group in a more casual situation. As much as she loved being able to hang out with the team and the other WAGs when she was in Ohio — and she did — she couldn’t help but be nervous that she didn’t have the same level of camaraderie that could help turn a night from good to great. Laurel couldn’t have been happier to be wrong. She was embraced from the moment she walked in the door, a glass of wine pushed into her hand and her Secret Santa gift deposited on the entryway table.

Laurel used to always roll her eyes at the idea that “time flies when you’re having fun,” but that couldn’t have been more true for the party. It seemed like only minutes had passed, but suddenly it was almost midnight, and the couples with kids had to head home to relieve the babysitters, and Laurel and Pierre were headed home.

“Let’s get some water in you, no?” Pierre murmured, walking to the kitchen and opening the cupboard.

“Thanks,” Laurel said softly as she took the glass from him, kicking off her shoes and tucking her feet under her on the couch.

Pierre perched on the arm, absentmindedly playing with his watch. But while a tipsy Pierre was an oversharer, a tipsy Laurel was always emotional in one fashion or another. “How’d you like the party?”

“It was great,” Laurel said. “I’m not sure why Alexandre thought I’d be into a Blue Jackets scarf, but I guess it’s the thought that counts?” She pulled the offending object out of her bag, running her fingers through the fringe on the edge. “Seeing how amazing so many of those couples are, Janelle and Nick especially, it was awesome…” She trailed off. “But it was hard.”

His brow furrowed. Why would it be hard? “How so?”

“I always thought that, when I got married, it would be once and that was it.” She screwed her eyes shut. “And that’s not to mean I’m not grateful for what you’ve done, it’s so incredible and goes so far beyond just plain kindness. I just thought it would be a forever thing.”

Pierre’s heart dropped. Of course she’d feel like that. If marriage was something she wanted to take that seriously, how could she not feel like she was cheapening its meaning by treating it as nothing more than an arrangement of convenience? It wasn’t even like he felt any differently; hockey was obviously still his first priority most of the time, but he’d always seen himself as someone who wanted to settle down and have a family one day. He guessed that he just hadn’t let himself think about it. “Laurel,” he said quietly, reaching out to her. But she wasn’t done.

“It’s just,” Laurel sighed, one hand tugging on her hair, tears threatening to escape her eyes, “knowing this is all temporary. Knowing that in a couple of y-years, when I g-get my citizenship and we get d-divorced, this is all going to end,” she said, hiccuping through her words. “I won’t be able to come to your Christmas parties and fly down for games and sit up in the WAG box with my friends and that jacket and a jersey with your name on it. I won’t be able to do any of that any more because it wasn’t real, it wasn’t ever real, and that fucking kills me inside, P.” Laurel sat on the corner of the couch, a spot as precarious as the words tumbling out of her mouth.

“Why?” Pierre asked, even though if he was honest, he’d stake his career on the belief that he already knew the answer. “Why would it hurt so bad?” His voice was so quiet that if Laurel hadn’t been sitting two feet away, she wouldn’t have heard.

“Because I’m fucking in love with you,” she whispered. “And that’s the single most terrifying sentence I’ve ever said in my life.” Even though Pierre somehow knew that’s what she was going to say all along, it didn’t stop her words from stealing the breath out of his lungs. Laurel looked up at him through her tears, her eyes beginning to redden. “Say something, please, P.”

Pierre knelt in front of her, his thumb resting gently on her cheek, wiping away her tears. “God, Laur, how could I not be in love with you?” She blinked rapidly at him, trying to process the words that were coming out of his mouth. “I wasn’t lying when I said you were one of the most incredible people I’ve ever met. You’re so caring, not just for me, but for everyone in your life. You’d give a stranger the shirt off of your back. You’re probably the smartest person I know, way smarter than me.” A giggle escaped Laurel’s mouth. “The dedication you show to everything in your life is amazing. At your job, you treat every patient like they were your own sibling or your own child. You make the trip down to Columbus once a month, twice a month. That’s not easy, all the flight time and having to leave Piper and switching shifts around so we can see each other. You’re gorgeous, not just on the outside — though you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen — but the light in your eyes when you talk about a new book you read, or how happy you look when you let me taste a new recipe you’re trying, or how passionate you get when you see something wrong and know there’s something you need to do to change it. So what if we’re doing things a little backwards? First comes marriage, then comes love.” He leaned his forehead against hers. “I fell in love with you awhile ago. I think it just took me a second to realize it.”

January 26 (wed)

Laurel thought the distance and space between them would be easier now that she knew how he felt, now that they both knew how they felt. She couldn’t have been more wrong. So the All-Star break, and the Blue Jackets’ bye week, couldn’t have come at a better time. Pierre had made plans for the break a few months earlier, but after everything that happened over Christmas, it didn’t seem right to ditch Laurel for a boy’s trip with Alexandre and Seth. So Hilton Head was traded in for Saint Lucia, and his teammates were traded in for his wife. And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Laurel was using three of her paid vacation days and Pierre was able to make the schedule work just right to get five nights in the Carribean. “A belated honeymoon, if you will,” he had said, cracking a grin over FaceTime as they booked the flights. The flight from Columbus was much less straightforward than hers from Montréal, but by a chance airline scheduling his first layover was in Toronto. Laurel met him at the gate, hauling her own green suitcase behind her as he flung his arms around her, kissing her with everything he had in him. They may have missed the not-so-subtle fans taking pictures that later circulated around Twitter that may or may not have led to some grade A chirping in the team’s group chat. But Pierre didn’t care. He cared that for a few days, he could forget about the stress of hockey and trying to make a playoff run and all the rumors floating around and just be with his wife. And, Pierre thought as they walked through the airport door into the Carribean sun, there really wasn’t anything else he wanted.

They hailed a taxi, the twenty minute drive to their resort rushing by in a blur of palm trees and seas so blue Laurel thought she could fall into them just by looking. Pierre jogged into the main office to check them in, coming back with their key cards before the taxi continued on its way, dropping them off in front of their villa. Laurel spun slowly as they got out of the car, smiling up at the sky as Pierre pressed a few bills into the taxi driver’s hand with a nod of thanks. “You okay there?” he asked with a grin.

“It’s so warm,” Laurel said in wonderment. Even in January, the weather in Saint Lucia hovered in the mid-70s, a far cry from the twenties and teens of a Montréal winter. Laurel was no stranger to the cold — Cloquet had seen temperatures pushing thirty below when Laurel was in high school — but the idea that she could be somewhere and wear shorts while it was snowing in her hometown was a concept so novel she hadn’t quite grasped it yet.

He nodded, looking at Laurel with a gaze so soft she thought her heart would maybe burst. “We’re in the Caribbean, L. It’s warm all the time.”

She rolled her eyes, bending over to get her suitcase, but not before Pierre snatched it up himself, holding the key card between two fingers. “Are you going to just stand there, or do you want to check out our honeymoon suite?” Laurel’s words dripped with suggestiveness, her sandal-clad feet dragging their way up the path to the villa with tantalizing languor.

“Coming.”

Even after the six months of their marriage, and even after everything that happened over the holidays, they hadn’t had sex. They’d gotten close a few times, both on her trip in December and in ones since, but never managed to go all the way. First Laurel needed a new birth control prescription — the last thing she would do would be have sex without being extra safe about it — and then she was too tired after a night out, and another time Pierre had scored a hat trick and they had partied way too hard to even think about sex. So needless to say, it had been a while for Laurel since she’d gotten release by any hands other than her own, and even longer for Pierre. And it certainly wasn’t because she didn’t want to. Laurel was well aware that her husband was hot as fuck, and she’d be lying if some of her lonelier nights weren’t filled with thoughts of exactly what she wanted him to do to her. But it felt different than any of her other relationships. Obviously, it felt different, she hadn’t been married to Oliver or Ryan or Carter. And that didn’t mean she wasn’t invested in those, but just that the stakes were so much higher and she had fallen so much harder for Pierre than she ever thought imaginable. She didn’t want to have sex with him until she was sure. Sure that it was going somewhere, sure that it would last, sure that he loved her in the same way that made her heart ache every time he dropped her off at Columbus International Airport.

---

By the time they had unpacked, eaten, and gotten a few rum punches in their system, it was well past 7 and the sun had long since set. Laurel peeked out the door onto their balcony, nodding at the private plunge pool. “We’ve got quite the setup here.”

She walked over to the dresser, grabbing a swimsuit out and crossing over to the bathroom, her hand hovering over the knob. “Just something to think about.” Pierre put his swim trunks on in record time. Laurel padded out of the bathroom, the top straps of her bikini dangling, the swell of her breasts peeking above the cups. “Do me up?” she asked.

Pierre’s fingers brushed the baby hairs at the base of her neck as he tied the straps of her white-hot bikini. “Sure you don’t want to go out to the beach?”

Their villa came with a stretch of beachfront, and it seemed like such a shame to let it go to waste. Laurel shook her head, a smile playing on the edge of her lips. “We’ve got a couple of days to enjoy the beach. I’d like to stay somewhere a little more...secluded.” She bit her lip as she opened the door to the balcony, dipping her toes in the pool and sighing at the warmth of the water. Laurel looked back at Pierre, one eyebrow raised. “You coming?” Pierre couldn’t follow fast enough.

They stayed in the water for a while, lazily kissing and staring at the stars and sipping drinks that had lost their potency hours ago, but neither of them really cared much. Sometime during the night, Laurel had made her way onto Pierre’s lap, where she reached over to the balcony, lofting herself out of the pool and wrapping a scarf around her body. “Getting a little cold,” she said, bending down and giving him a soft kisss. She walked into the room, drying herself off; he followed. Laurel threw the towel over a chair in the corner of the room, walking over towards Pierre, stopping when their noses were almost touching.

Laurel’s wrap fell from her shoulders, pooling on the wood floor. Pierre’s hand skated up her arm to rest on her cheek. He leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. She stood on her tiptoes as her left hand tangled in his hair, her right pressed against the back of his neck. She whimpered into his mouth; it took everything in Pierre’s power to keep the blood from rushing south. The kiss got more frantic, tongue and teeth clashing against each other as he walked her back to the bed. The back of her knees bumped up against the edge.

Pierre pulled away slightly, letting out a moan as he saw Laurel’s face. Her lips were puffy from kissing, her chest heaving with the force of her breath, and her wild hair had long since been taken out of its ponytail. In other words, Pierre was convinced beyond a shadow of a doubt that Laurel, in that moment, was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. “You sure you want to do this?” Pierre murmured. He wanted to. God, he wanted to. But he’d never do anything without making sure that she was absolutely comfortable. Laurel nodded, biting her lip. “I need to hear you say it, babe,” Pierre said, taking a step forward, their noses almost touching.

“I want you to ruin me.”

Pierre audibly groaned, capturing her lips in his before throwing her back on the bed, his hand moving to her back to undo the tie of her bikini top as his lips trailed down her neck. He threw the top off to one side, paying exactly zero attention to where it landed, as his hands slid up her waist to cup her breasts, his thumbs ghosting over her sensitive nipples. Laurel’s breath hitched in her throat. “You like that, baby?”

“Mhm,” Laurel whimpered, unable to form a complete sentence.

He smirked, lowering his mouth to her chest, flicking his tongue over her right nipple as his hand pinched her left. The air was filled with breathless sighs from them both until Pierre’s hands left her breasts. Laurel whined in protest until she felt his fingers toying with her bikini bottoms, his head lifting just enough so that his eyes could meet hers. “This okay?”

It was all Laurel could do to choke out a single word. “Please.”

Pierre pulled them down her legs, kissing down, down to her hips, down to her inner thighs, down to everywhere except for where she needed him. “You need something, Laurel?” Pierre asked, his voice dripping with sex.

Laurel groaned, not wanting to give in but also knowing that Pierre could stay where he was for hours if it meant teasing her. “Your mouth.”

“As you wish.” And then his tongue was on her, and in her, and she couldn’t help but let out a moan. And Pierre was loving every second of it. He stayed down there for a while, long enough to finish her twice.

Laurel pushed on his shoulder, trying to get him to turn on his back so she could return the favor. Pierre shook his head as he shucked his shorts off, pulling her head down to kiss her roughly. “I’m going to cum right here if I don’t get inside you in the next two minutes, babe.” He reached over to the nightstand, grabbing a condom. “Guess I’ll have to thank Josh for these when we get back home.”

She raised one eyebrow, clearly unamused. “If you do that, I can promise you I’ll never put your dick in my mouth. Not now, not ever.”

Pierre held his hands up in surrender, the foil packet shining between two fingers. “Alright, alright. I won’t.” He paused just before bringing the wrapper up to his teeth. “You want this?”

Laurel nodded frantically as he rolled the condom down his length. He looked so hard it was painful. “So bad.” He leaned down to kiss her, propped up on one arm as he pushed into her, hair falling into his face as he closed his eyes. He was too blissed out to be able to focus on anything other than how good she felt around him, how tight and warm and how well she fit, like Laurel Elizabeth Klerken was made for him and him alone.

“More,” Laurel cried softly, and that was all it took for Pierre to grab one of her legs, throwing it around his hips as he increased his pace, head dropping to her neck as he nipped at her pulse points. It didn’t take long for Pierre to reach his high, Laurel right behind him. He pressed a sweet kiss to her forehead before getting up from the bed, going into the bathroom to tie off the condom and grab a washcloth. He cleaned up between her legs as Laurel lay there, trying to steady her breathing, absolutely spent from the night’s three orgasms. “Why didn’t we do that earlier?” Laurel murmured.

Pierre laughed, throwing the cloth in the laundry basket and tilting down to press a kiss to the crown of her head. “I don’t know. But it was worth it.”

February 20 (mon)

Laurel had learned early on in her relationship with Pierre that she couldn’t put much stock into what was said on Twitter. Or Instagram, or any social media for that matter. So much was speculation: about draft picks, about trade rumors, about Pierre-Luc Dubois’ secret wife, that it just wasn’t useful or healthy for her so spend much time looking around. She still had her accounts, but Instagram was the only one she went on with any regularity nowadays. And she rarely checked her phone during the work day anyways; unless it was an unusually slow day — which was never a good sign in the medical world — the only time she was even able to spare a glance was during her lunch break or when she’d run to the bathroom. So when her phone buzzed with a text from Pierre as she sat at the nurses’ station, her brow furrowed as she unlocked the screen.

Are you free right now? I need to call you.

Laurel bit her lip, nerves threatening to boil over. He knew her schedule, he knew she was at work. What could be so important that it couldn’t wait? Are you okay? Did something happen?

He typed a response as soon as her text showed as delivered. I’m not hurt, it’s not bad, really, I just need to tell you something and I don’t want to have to do it over text.

Laurel checked her watch. 11:18. It was early for a lunch break, but as long as she wasn’t needed, she could take her half hour any time between 11 and 1. She caught the eye of her charge nurse. “Claudette? I’m taking my lunch if that’s alright with you.” Claudette nodded, and Laurel quickly made her way to the locker room to grab her leftover pasta, texting Pierre on the way. Headed to the changing room now. Are you going to tell me what this is about?

Her phone rang a minute later, when she had just closed the door. She tapped the green button. “You’re going to have to tell me what’s going on here, P, because I’m kind of freaking out,” Laurel said, laughing nervously. “You don’t tell a girl what to expect, she starts assuming the worst.”

Pierre let out a heavy breath. She could imagine him running a hand through his hair on the other end. “I know, and I’m sorry if I worried you. I just needed to tell you before it breaks.”

“Before what breaks, Pierre?” Laurel’s anxiety was coming to a head.

“I’m coming home.”

Laurel screwed her eyes shut, even more confused than she was before. “Yeah, Pierre, I know you’re playing here next week. Why would that be news?”

“When’s the trade deadline, Laurel?”

“Last Monday in February, but I don’t see what that has…” She pulled the phone away from her ear, looking down at the screen, eyes locking on the date. “You got traded?”

She could imagine him sitting down on the edge of his couch, one hand dangling off the side, Georgia trying to jump up and goad him into giving her a pet or two. “They’re breaking it right before the noon deadline, but you deserved to know before everyone else did. You needed to know.”

Laurel leaned up against her locker, hand over her mouth. “You’re coming to Montréal?” She had seen it mentioned offhand on a few Twitter accounts she followed the handful of times she had logged on in the past week, but nobody thought it would actually happen. Even the concept of trading him seemed so far-fetched with the type of season he was having in Columbus. He was sitting near 30 goals and 40 assists, with one of the best plus-minus scores on the team. It just didn’t make sense.

“As of twenty minutes ago, I’m officially a Montréal Canadien,” Pierre answered.

“Oh God,” Laurel said, sympathy lacing her voice. She couldn’t let herself be excited, wouldn’t let herself be excited, until she knew exactly how Pierre felt about it. He had just been uprooted from the team that drafted him, where he’d played for four seasons and made friends and where everyone saw him as the future of the franchise.

Pierre let out a single laugh. “They let me know what the deal was, apparently Montréal really wanted me. First round pick next year, a second-year defenseman, some prospect from Laval.”

Laurel settled on the bench, tucking the phone under her chin. “Of course they really wanted you, P. You’re an incredible player, you’d be an asset to any team and you’re going to do great things in Montréal.” She paused. “But how are you feeling about the move? I know it’s not what you were expecting. Or what anyone was expecting, really.”

“It’s weird,” Pierre said after a moment. “Obviously yeah, I won’t lie, it’s a shock. But almost every player, even the really good ones, get traded at one point or another. Gretzky was traded to L.A.”

“Are you comparing yourself to Gretzky?” Laurel asked playfully.

“No,” Pierre chuckled. “But just trying to remind myself that it was almost inevitable. I’m allowed to be sad about it — and I am, it’s going to fucking suck leaving the boys — but I’m not as torn up as I thought I’d be if this ever happened.” He felt more than a little bad about it, but his first thought when his agent called and broke the news wasn’t sadness, it wasn’t despair at having to leave the team he had been brought up in and the men he considered his brothers. It was relief. Relief that he could be closer to his family, relief that he’d be back with Laurel, relief that he was going home. “And hey,” he said, catching Laurel’s attention. “You know what?”

Laurel rolled her eyes. “What?”

“I don’t even have to marry someone to move.”

---

Pierre’s flight got in late Tuesday night, just after Laurel’s shift at the hospital had ended. He had said he wouldn’t mind taking an Uber home so she didn’t have to rush over and stress about traffic, but Laurel didn’t care. She wanted to be at the airport to pick up her husband, even if it meant she’d still be in her scrubs doing it.

She saw him exiting the sliding doors of the international terminal before she even turned the corner, practically slamming her car into park as soon as she hit the curb. Pierre dropped his bags when her car door opened, paying no attention to the thump of the suitcases as they hit the ground or the wandering eyes of passersby. Airports hadn’t always been his favorite place. They meant leaving the people he loved, going away from what was warm and familiar and safe. They usually meant uncertainty. But that had changed, Pierre thought, as his wife jumped into his arms, her legs wrapping around his waist as their lips met. Airports might just have become one of his favorite places. He pulled back from the kiss, their foreheads just barely touching. “Hi,” he said.

Laurel smiled, the kind of smile that lit up rooms and made crying babies giggle and that Pierre was pretty sure was his favorite thing he’d ever seen in the world. “Welcome home.”

#hockey imagine #pierre luc dubois #hockey smut #hockey imagines #hockey writing #hockey #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #nhl smut #nhl writing #nhl #Pierre-Luc Dubois #pierre-luc dubois imagine #columbus blue jackets

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hazelcmist · 4 years

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A Cure for Christmas

Summary: Two Brits grounded and stranded in the middle of Nowhere, North Carolina during a ‘blizzard’ and there’s only one loaf of bread, one carton of milk and one hotel room left to share. Whatever will they do?

Pairing: Ten x Rose

31 days of Ficmas: Snowed In

@doctorroseprompts

The disastrous day began in the Heathrow airport. Normally, John Smith – the Doctor to his friends and colleagues – enjoyed traveling and took all the delays in stride, but Gallifrey Inc. was threatening to pull the plug on his latest vaccine that could improve and save the lives of millions world-wide. The vaccine had spent the last six months in the development stages, but the new CEO of Saxon Inc. had abruptly cut 75% of their funding. The stocks of Gallifrey Inc. had plummeted and the Doctor and Gallifrey Inc. were floundering. The start-up company had invested everything into the Doctor’s latest vaccine, but if they couldn’t find an immediate investor, Gallifrey Inc. would be bankrupt by the end of the year and the much-needed vaccine would never be completed.

Any hopes of salvaging his career, completing the vaccine, and rescuing the company that had taken him in like a family from financial ruin was now pinned on one company that had shown some recent interest in the vaccine.

Vitex.

Vitex’s CEO was currently at their American headquarters in Los Angeles. Donna Noble generally handled this sort of thing, but Pete Tyler had requested to meet the Doctor himself, and Donna had Bronchitis. The Doctor loved traveling, but he was anxious about the meeting and he was already running behind schedule.

Thanks to Donna’s brilliance, the Doctor had managed to get on one of the few direct flights to LAX, but the departure kept getting pushed back. By the time the pretty blonde fetched up against the bar and rammed her valise into his kneecap, the Doctor had been waiting for three hours and was two banana daiquiris deep at the airport bar.

“Oi! Mind the knees!”

She whipped around and the Doctor’s breath caught in his throat.

“Sorry,” she said with a dazzling apologetic smile. “Lost my balance. Think I broke one of my heels running through the airport,” she confessed with a wince.

“Let me take a look,” he offered before he could stop himself.

The Doctor was usually quite good with fixing things, but unfortunately this innate ability did not extend to women’s footwear.

Twenty minutes later, she was barefoot and sharing a stool with him at the packed bar, and they had yet another round of banana daiquiris in front of them.

“’s not your fault,” she assured him, patting his leg. The Doctor tried to disguise the shiver that went through him at her touch.

“I broke your other heel too,” he lamented.

“’s okay,” she said, squeezing his knee, “I hate high heels, can’t run in them.”

The Doctor gazed out at the crowd passing in and out of the duty-free shop across the way and a brilliant idea occurred to him.

“Wait here,” he instructed her.

He was back in a jiffy with a newly purchased pair of Chucks for her. They even matched her red blouse. She laughed when he made sure to point this out to her and launched into a lecture on the merits of proper footwear and little shops in airports. The Doctor wished he could’ve recorded that laugh and could’ve bottled the feeling that it evoked inside of him.

Suddenly, the crew announced that they were preparing for boarding.

“Sorry, I’ve got to run for my life,” he said, throwing some money down on the bar to cover both drinks.

It didn’t occur to him until he was seated at the back of the plane with his nose in a book and a warm tingly feeling resonating in his chest that he’d felt so comfortable with her, and yet he hadn’t even learned her name.

The flight was a nightmare. Rose loved travelling and was looking forward to seeing her father and finally getting a tour of Los Angeles and the new Vitex Headquarters, but the flight had been turbulent and in spite of everything Rose had tried to do to help, her seatmate had gotten violently ill. She hadn’t been the only one. The plane was forced to make an emergency landing because of the inclement weather and one of the flight attendants suddenly taking ill as well. Rose was seated in first class and was therefore one of the first to exit the plane, only after another flight attendant assured her that the other woman would be fine and was being seen to by a doctor.

Rose didn’t know where they ended up, but it became immediately clear judging from the empty terminal, that this place was a far cry from Heathrow. All of the gates were empty, save for a few sparrows that were hopping from seat to seat, eagerly looking for crumbs.

“Where are we?” Rose wondered aloud.

“No idea,” a voice said cheerfully and Rose turned to find the bloke from the airport bar beaming at her. “Hello again,” he greeted her, wiggling his fingers.

“Hello,” Rose echoed, smiling widely. He had some great hair, some really great hair. She honestly wasn’t sure how long they stood there staring at each other as the rest of the passengers flowed around them and ran for the baggage claim and the customer service desk.

“Nice Chucks,” he complimented her with a wink.

“Thanks,” she said with a touch-touched grin that caused him to sway toward her as if she was magnetic. “’m Rose,” she introduced herself.

“I’m the Doctor,” he said, taking her hand. The way his fingers curled around hers, felt right, so right that she was reluctant to let go.

“Are you hungry?” he asked, stuffing his hands in his pockets and rocking back on his heels.

“Starved,” Rose admitted. “I want chips.”

“Allonsy,” he said, leading the way. “Let’s go find a chippie.”

It quickly became clear that they were not in London anymore.

“Closed?” The Doctor sputtered for the fourth time in the last ten minutes. “What do you mean you’re closed?”

“It’s gonna snow,” the manager of the fourth and final place to eat explained with a shrug. “The whole airport’s shutting down.

“But what about our flight?”

The manager shrugged again.

“It’ll be rescheduled,” he grunted, “Maybe in a few days?”

“A few days?” The Doctor’s jaw dropped, but the manager was already pushing past him with his staff eagerly following him out of the terminal.

Rose and the Doctor discovered that while they’d wasted their time tracking down all four of the places that served food, their fellow passengers had been discussing and making rearrangements. By the time they got to the last couple of harried airport employees, there wasn’t much left.

“We don’t know when the next flight out will be,” the kindly representative, Lynda explained to them and one other passenger in a ballcap. “They’re saying we could get six inches of snow.”

“Six? That’s it?” barked the passenger with a nasally accent next to them, “Where I come from, that’s nothing. Let me tell you about the blizzard of ’78. I had to dig myself out of a snow drift eight feet high and walk all the way to the packie for a six-pack of beer-”

“We only have five snow plows for the entire state and one of them got hit by a truck yesterday,” Lynda interrupted him. “But they salted the roads two days ago, so hopefully we’ll be up and running by Wednesday.”

“Two days ago!” the passenger barked. “What the fuck is that supposed to do? Do you guys even know how to de-ice a plane? Does anyone here even own an ice scraper? Or a shovel?”

“If the snow sticks and we get as much as they’re predicting,” Lynda explained to a very confused Rose and the Doctor, “The whole state will shut down for the next forty-eight hours, possibly longer depending on how quickly it melts. I’m sorry. I can put you up in a room in the hotel across the road, courtesy of British Airways, but I’ve only got one room left.”

Rose and the Doctor were too stunned to disagree. With a few clicks the agent had arranged for them to share a room for a night, possibly two, depending on the weather.

“There’s a convenience store right outside the hotel,” she informed them, “I’d recommend stocking up on supplies before we get snowed in and they close.”

“Where’s the nearest Dunkin’ Donuts? What about Market Basket?” the other man was demanding as Rose and the Doctor gathered up their baggage and hurried out before the shop closed.

Luckily the hotel was in walking distance, but the shop was attached to a petrol station. Rose and the Doctor were shocked by the amount of cars lined up for petrol and the amount of people who left their cars running to do their shopping. The shop was small, but what little they had was swept up into the arms of anxious, fearful people prepared to weather an apocalypse. Surely, Rose and the Doctor must’ve heard the weather reports wrong, because the shelves were practically bare. One of the clerks told them that a fist fight had nearly erupted over the last case of water. All that remained now was one slightly smooshed loaf of bread and a carton of milk that had the sell by date rubbed off.

The Doctor opened the milk up, sniffed it, and decided that it would do. He added the last three jars of some weird organic jam to their basket as well, ignoring Rose’s roll of her eyes when he insisted on opening that up to sample as well.

The Doctor actually crowed in triumph when the shopkeeper brought out some bananas that had been missed in the back. But once Rose confessed that she’d actually brought tea and biscuits from home at her father’s request, the Doctor gave her a smile so blindingly bright that her face warmed.

“Rose,” he gushed, taking her hand and swinging it between them, “You are fantastic!”

They left the shop together just as it was beginning to snow. Tiny flurries drifted down around them and the Doctor made a dramatic show of trying to catch them on his tongue. He kept her laughing right up until they approached the front desk of the hotel and found out they’d been given a room.

A room with only one bed.

“Are you sure there aren’t any other rooms available?” the Doctor asked the concierge. But the man apologized that they were all booked up because of the grounded flights and the ‘blizzard’ coming in.

“Isn’t it exciting? They’re saying we could get up to a foot of snow!” the concierge squealed, “I’ve never seen snow before. I can’t wait to build my first snowman!” He clapped his hands together enthusiastically, oblivious to Rose and the Doctor’s strained smiles as they considered the prospect of sharing a hotel room and a bed with a stranger for multiple nights.

The lift was small, but their room seemed even smaller to Rose once the door clicked shut behind them. Logically Rose knew the hotel room was probably larger than most of the rooms she’d stayed in over the last few years, but she didn’t think the Doctor had been quite so tall, so manly and so attractive until they were in a confined space together.

And that was bad, very bad, because Rose had just gotten out of an awful relationship and she had no intention of starting another one. After Jimmy Stone, Rose didn’t want to even look at another man, let alone sleep in the same bed as one.

No matter how much more fit and brilliant the bloke appeared to be in comparison to her ex.

“I can sleep on the floor,” Rose offered generously at the same time as he did.

They looked at each other and then glanced away again with a bit of nervous laughter. The Doctor rubbed at the nape of his neck and Rose sat down on the edge of the bed to unlace her Chucks that unfortunately weren’t quite broken in yet. She couldn’t quite disguise a flinch as she removed her left shoe. The new shoes had made the blisters that had formed from her ruined heel worse.

“Mind if I take a look?” he offered, and Rose folded her arms over her chest.

“You broke my other heel,” she reminded him pointedly. “’m not sure I trust you around anything.

“I’m a Doctor,” he assured her, “Well, sort of,” he mollified removing a pair of specs from the inside of his suit jacket, “I have a Doctorate in Physics and Chemistry, but I only did a brief stint in Engineering, Astronomy and Medicine, but that has to count for something, right?”

Rose blinked at him and he took that as permission. Kneeling down on the carpet at her feet, he carefully examined her left foot. Her eyelids slid to half-mast as he started to massage her heel and the arch of her foot, and then her toes. She was practically purring by the time he finished up with one foot and moved onto the other.

“You spend a lot of time on your feet,” he noted, repeating the same glorious patterns on her right foot.

“Used to work in a shop, twelve-hour shifts, constantly running around,” she explained, suppressing a moan of pleasure as he hit just the right spot with his magical fingers. The Doctor must’ve caught the sound she made, because he abruptly released her foot and stood up.

“Right, well, it looks like as long as you don’t wear shoes for the next few days those blisters should heal up on their own,” he said, backing away from her. The room was so small that he didn’t get very far.

“Don’t think that should be much of a problem, seeing as we’re not going anywhere for the next couple of days,” Rose sighed and looked out the window. In the glow of lamplight in the car park, she could see the snowflakes coming down faster and heavier.

The Doctor stepped toward the window and pushed the curtains wide. If it kept snowing like this then there was no way he was going to get out in time to make his appointment with Pete Tyler, and if he didn’t get the funding for Vitex, his colleagues and friends were going to lose their jobs, and the Doctor would never get a chance to get the vaccine out for a disease that was affecting millions of lives.

“You alright?”

He turned around and found Rose, bathed in the soft ambient lighting of the hotel room. The red blouse paired beautifully with what was left of her lipstick and highlighted the healthy rosy flush to her cheeks. She’d taken her hair down from its updo and her hair was longer than he expected, spilling down over her shoulders.

Rose reminded him a bit of Reinette, but there was nothing fake about her or her beauty. Her kindness and the beating heart that it came from was all genuine. It was a shame he’d sworn off relationships after his affair with the Parisian had ended in heartbreak, because he already knew that Rose was beautiful inside and out.

“I’m fine,” he lied.

She gave him a skeptical look, but fortunately she didn’t press him as she gathered up her toiletries and a change of clothes.

“Gonna use the loo, unless…” She waited for him to object, but he motioned for her to go ahead.

And then he was left alone again to contemplate how he was about to lose everything he’d worked for over the last decade, letting down more and more people with every snowflake that piled up outside.

TO BE CONTINUED...

#31 days of ficmas #doctorroseprompts #fic and chips #my writing

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pitubea1910 · 4 years

Text

Venice

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Words: 7k

Warnings: -

Tags: -

Request: -

Notes: I didn’t review this so I apologise for any mistake! I hope you like it and, please, leave some feedback so I know if you do :)

MASTERLIST

Venice.

Paris.

Summer.

Friends.

Peter.

That was going to be the first weeks of your holidays. A summer school trip around Europe. What else could you ask for? It was the perfect plan for what it promised to be the perfect summer.

Excited?, Peter’s text said the night before your departure.

You smiled at the screen while you brushed your teeth. Holding the toothbrush with your mouth, you texted him back:

Very! Its gonna be awesome.

You put your phone down and finished washing your teeth before going to your room where you still had some more packing to do. Your mum had been obsessed with this trip and had made like three to-do lists. She was driving you crazy. But you knew she was just worried. It was your first time out of the country and out of New York, so she was kind of losing it.

But you couldn’t be more excited. And you were a bit shy to admit that a big part of that excitement was because of the thought of spending some more time with Peter away from everything.

Peter and you weren’t dating, although it really felt that way. You used to spend most of the time out of school together, he would come over your house -or you would to his- almost every weekend for movie night and you could always fall asleep on his chest. It would be his aunt or your mum finding you cuddled up in the middle of the night with an already finished movie playing on TV. He would take every chance he got to touch you in any way possible: a lose strand of hair, something on your cheek, anything. And you loved his contact, you loved hugging him, feeling his arms around you.

You knew you liked him and you were 98% sure he liked you too, but neither of you had had the courage to take that last step that had you on the ‘friends’ stage. Maybe this trip around Europe could fix that.

Next morning, your mum dropped you off at the airport before going to work. She tried to hide it, but you could the tears on the corner of her eyes when she hugged you goodbye.

“Mum, I’m going to be okay”, you chuckled squeezing her hand. “It will be just three weeks.”

“I know, I know”, she nodded. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a moment. “Just be careful, text me as soon as you land and never leave the group alone, alright?”

“Don’t worry, Miss Jones”, Peter’s sudden appearance startled you so much that you were about to hit him, which made him laugh when he caught your wrist just in time. “I’ll keep a close eye on her the whole”, he finished his sentence looking at your mum without letting go of your wrist.

“I trust you, Pete”, your mum said, smiling at him.

“You trust him but you don’t trust myself?” You asked fake offended. You knew how much your mum liked Peter.

“It’s been proved several times that you can’t really be trusted”, Peter teased you with a smile.

“I can’t with you two when you decided to collude against me”, you huffed and looked at your mum. “Aren’t you late for work or something?”

“Yes and now I can go. I know you’re in good hands”, she said with a teasing smile.

Peter let go of your hand so you could hug your mum once again. You took your luggage and looked at Peter with your eyes narrowed, but all he did was smile innocently as you as you made your way into the airport, where you soon saw the rest of your classmates and the teachers that would be coming with you.

“Do you have your passport?” Peter asked.

“Of course I have my passport”, you said, but you checked your bag anyway, making him laugh. “See? Here it is.”

“You didn’t even know if you had it”, he laughed.

“And do you?” You said raising both eyebrows.

“Of course”, he smirked and put his hand into his back pocket, his face suddenly turning white and his eyes widening. “Shit…”, he mumbled.

“Not funny, Peter”, you said crossing your arms.

“I’m not joking”, he said opening his bag pack.

“Peter!”

You both looked to your side to see Aunt May running into the airport holding Peter’s passport in her hand. A huge smirk spread on your lips as she handed it to him.

“You’re a mess”, May said when Peter took it, his eyes burning red. “It fell on the car floor. I told you not to put things into your back pocket.”

“Thanks, May”, he said.

“I gotta go, be careful and call me, alright?” She said giving both of you a quick hug. When she left, you looked at Peter.

“Not a word”, he said, turning to walk towards the class.

“You’re not going to hear the end of this, Parker”, you smiled widely. “Hey, MJ”, you said.

“Hi guys”, she smiled at both of you. “You’re late.”

“Peter forgot his passport”, you were quick to say.

“It was in the car!”, He defended himself.

“Peter forgot his passport in the car”, you said, smiling even more when he glared at you.

“You two are cute”, was all MJ said before turning her attention to the teachers, who were giving the instructions for the boarding of the plane.

You looked at him after MJ said that at the same time he looked at you with a small smile. His hand went to your back where he rubbed small circles like he did so many times. You took a small step closer to him, so your arm was touching his side, and sighed now paying attention to your teachers.

Your dad had warned you about how long the flight was going to be. He was perfectly aware of it since he had to travel to Europe twice a year for his job. But you never thought it would actually be so damn long. And even confusing. By the time you landed in Italy, it was 9 p.m. in New York but it was 3 in the morning in Italy.

The first thing you did was going to your room, which you shared with MJ, to leave your luggage. It was probably the shittiest hotel you had ever seen, but you knew how cheap your school was so you were just glad to have an actual roof over your heads and semi-decent beds.

“How are we supposed to sleep now?” You asked when you took a seat on your bed. “It’s 9 p.m. in New York, I don’t go to sleep for another three hours and we’re supposed to be up in five?”

“Jet lag will hit us hard”, MJ nodded. “I’m not tired either.”

You whined and opened your suitcase to take out your pyjamas. At least you had to give it a try or you would be a mess next morning. You saw MJ doing the same. With a sigh, you got up to take off your jeans when there was a knock on the door.

“Yes?” You asked after seeing that MJ was already without her jeans.

“It’s Peter”, his voice said on the other side of the door.

MJ looked at you and then kept on changing her clothes, but you could see the tiny smirk she had on her face. You pulled your jeans back up and went to the door, opening just a little so MJ wouldn’t be visible.

“What is it?” You asked.

“I can’t sleep”, he shrugged.

“Did you even try?”

“No, actually”, he admitted. “But I’m not tired at all. I thought we could sneak out and go for a walk or something?”

You bite your lip to suppress your smile and looked at MJ for a moment, he nodded eagerly, making you laugh quietly.

“I’m going to grab a jacket”, you said.

“I brought one spare”, he quickly said before you closed the door.

Another thing you loved was wearing his clothes and Peter loved seeing you in them, Plus, your smell would stay afterwards, which he loved even more.

“Okay, give me a second”, you said.

Without even closing the door, you walked back to your bed to take the phone and put it into your back pocket -a small smile appeared on your face when you remembered May scolding Peter for doing just that-.

“Cover for me, please?” You asked MJ, who had taken a book from her suitcase.

“No problem”, she said. “Have fun.”

You winked at her and hurried out of the room, closing the door silently behind you. Peter was waiting for you, leaned against the wall and looking at his phone. When he heard you, he locked the device and put it in his pocket with a smile.

“Where to?” You asked when he handed you his hoodie.

“Given my deep knowledge of Venice”, he said as you two started walking down the stairs, “I suggest we go left.”

“Then we better go right”, you said. “I can’t take any advice from someone who forgets his passport before a trip”, you added.

“I didn’t forget it!” He exclaimed when you walked out of the hostel.

“Shut up”, you laughed covering his mouth with your hand, laughing quietly. “This place has the thinnest walls I’ve ever seen”, you added when he looked at you confused.

Smiling under your hand, he took it and gave it a small kiss that made you blush before pulling it away from his mouth. Yet, he didn’t let go of it. Instead, he entwinned his fingers with yours and started walking to the right of the hostel, leaving the canal to your other side.

“Where are we exactly?” You asked.

“Calle de le Ballote, according to Google Maps”, he said. “If we follow this canal all the way down, we will get to the Grand Canal.”

“I didn’t know we were that close”, you said, getting a bit closer to him when you shivered. “It’s a bit chilly.”

“I know”, he said and let go of your hand to wrap his arm around you, trying to keep you warm.

The street was completely empty, probably because it was almost 4 in the morning of a Tuesday night, but it still was surprising. Since Venice was such a touristic city, you assumed it would be crowded the whole time. Not like you complained. It was really nice to enjoy a walk like that with Peter and tourists coming up and down would only hinder you.

“You know”, Peter said after walking in silent for a few minutes, “I was really excited about this trip.”

“Me too”, you agreed. “It’s the first time I’ve left the States.”

“Me too”, he nodded.

“Liar”, you laughed and he looked at you confused. “You went to Germany a couple of years ago, remember? Stark Internship stuff?”

“Oh, right…”, he nodded. “It was really nice of him to invite me.”

You bite your lip, immediately regretting bringing that up. You knew how much the dead of Stark had affected him. Peter had always looked up to him, even before getting that internship. Now you barely talked about him or anything related to Tony Stark, Iron Man or anything about the last five years. Both of you had been gone, which had made everything so confusing around you. At least, nothing had happened with your relationship. If something, it had only brought you closer.

“Sorry”, you sighed. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“No, it’s okay”, he said giving you a little squeeze. “Don’t worry about it.”

But you did worry. You worried about him so much.

“What are you most excited to see?” He asked, changing the topic immediately.

“In Venice?” You asked and he nodded. “San Marco”, you shrugged. “But I’m not going to lie. I would’ve loved to come during the acqua alta.”

“That’s what you told me about the whole place flooded?” You nodded. “It would be a bit annoying, I think.”

“But we would have seen something unique”, you shrugged.

“I guess”, he laughed. “I want to see Il Ponte dei Sospiri. The Bridge of Sighs”, he said.

“What’s that?” You asked.

“Actually, the story is a bit sad”, he said. “The bridge connects an old Inquisition prison with the Ducal Palace, and that bridge was the last walk the prisoners made, sighing, before they died”, he explained.

“Creepy”, you chuckled a little.

“I know”, he nodded. “But the vaulted of the bridge caused the sighs to be heard and the story says that those were the prisoner’s prayers to be reunited with their beloved once they died. Today, couple go under that bridge because the legends says that if you sigh with your beloved, you will be together for eternity.”

“That’s… actually kind of romantic?” You chuckled. “How do you know that? You’ve never too much of a history nerd.”

“I did some research last night to find some place for us to go”, he shrugged.

You couldn’t help but smile and looked up at him, stopping just when you reached the Grand Canal, although you didn’t even pay attention to it.

“What?” He asked looking down at you.

“For us to go?” You repeated. He smiled and took some hair out of your face.

“One of the reasons I was so excited about this trip is because I would get to spend more time with you. And I’m not planning on doing that guided by our teachers.”

“Peter Parker…”, you said, stopping every single impulse that was telling you to kiss him. “Are you willing to break the rules to visit some old creepy romantic bridge with me?”

“Always Jones”, he said, mirroring your smile.

Your eyes went down to his smile and then back to his eyes just to realise that his eyes were doing the same. You have thought about kissing him so many times, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to do it. It was too risky and you were afraid of mis-reading the signals. Maybe he just was really affectionate with you.

However, when he rubbed his cheek and leaned down just a bit, like he was testing you, you really thought it was going to happen. Your hands went to his chest, feeling butterflies not only in your stomach but all over your body. You could feel the warmth of his mouth hovering over yours, just inches away. And suddenly it was over.

His phone started buzzing, startling both of you and making you pull away, your faces completely blushed and your hearts racing faster than ever.

“Sorry”, he mumbled taking out his phone.

“Don’t worry”, you said in the same tone and looked away.

You hadn’t even realised that you had reached the Grand Canal. How could have you been so focused on him not to realise that? Even if it was a bit more crowded than the street where you came from, it still was pretty empty. And yet, it was one of the most beautiful sights you had ever seen.

“Shall we go back?” Peter asked and you looked at him. He was still all flustered and nervous, but you couldn’t blame him, You felt the same. “It’s 4.15 and we have to be up in a few hours.”

“Yeah, sure”, you nodded. “Let’s go.”

Once again, although a bit hesitantly, he wrapped an arm around your shoulder and kept it that way all the way back to the hostel. This time, you walked in complete silence. It wasn’t uncomfortable at all, but you couldn’t stop thinking about how close his lips had been to yours and how much you had wanted that kiss.

“Who called you, by the way?” You asked when you were at the door of the hostel.

“Unknown number”, he shrugged. “I didn’t pick up.”

“Oh”, you nodded and walked inside.

Silently, he walked you to the door of your room where he stood awkwardly, with his hands in his pockets as he waited for you to get the key.

“Here, your hoodie”, you said in a whisper when you had finally opened the door. It was dark inside so MJ had probably fallen asleep.

“Keep it”, he said before you could take it off. “You can give it back tomorrow, don’t worry”, he smiled.

“Thanks”, you smiled back. You loved wearing his clothes. “Thanks for the…walk.”

“You too”, he nodded. “It was great”, he chuckled.

“I hope the next one can be even better?” You said, feeling your cheeks hotter by the second.

“I really hope so”, he nodded with a shy smile. He took a step closer to you and wrapped his arms around you. “Sleep well”, he said in your ear.

“You too”, you said back before kissing his cheek. “See you tomorrow.”

Peter nodded and waited outside until you closed the door and locked it. Only then, he breathed out slowly, closing his eyes and leaning against the wall in front of your door. He couldn’t believe he almost kissed you. He had been waiting so long to do it that he felt like he could kill Nick Fury. Of course he knew it was him who had called him, just like he had been calling for the last few days. But he wasn’t going to let him ruin his trip. He needed this.

***

Just like you knew when you fell asleep, the next morning you were a sleepy mess. You had slept around four hours or even less, so when you went downstairs already dressed to get some breakfast before you left the place to do some tourism you felt like you could fell asleep while walking.

Fortunately, it looks like everybody felt that way. Most eyes were half closed, the conversation was almost non existent and all you could hear were the cups of coffee being left on the wooden table of the dining room the hostel provided.

“How did you sleep?” Peter asked when you took a seat next to him.

“Good I guess”, you sighed pouring some coffee in your mug. “Although it feels like I haven’t slept at all”, you added.

“Same”, he nodded, giving you one of the toasts he had already covered with butter.

“Thanks”, you said.

Ten minutes later, Harrington got up, way too excited, and told you all that it was time to get going. You had a lot to see and no time to waste. You looked at Peter, who looked at you and smiled before kissing your cheek swiftly.

“Let’s go”, he said getting up.

“Can’t I just go back to bed?” You whined when you walked out of the hostel and the sun hit you in the face.

“We’re in Venice, c’mon! Let me see some excitement”, Peter said taking your hand. You fake smiled at him, which made him laugh.

“Hey, Peter! Check this out!” Ned called him.

Peter gave your hand a squeeze before hurrying over to Ned, who was looking at something at the canal. You took out your sunglasses from the small bag you were carrying and put them on.

“I didn’t hear you coming in last night”, MJ said, appearing by your side, as silently as usual.

“I tried not to wake you”, you said. “But it was late”, you added.

“I imagined. Look at your face”, she shrugged.

“Thanks”, you laughed.

You remembered when you first met MJ. She seemed like a weird girl with no many friends. And you had been right. At first, you didn’t want to get too close to her because she didn’t even look like a nice person, but when you got paired up to do a Geography you realised that you two had more in common that what it seemed. It couldn’t be said that you were close, because MJ didn’t get close to people, but you considered her a friend and you had ended up loving her harsh honesty.

A boat big enough for all of you was waiting next to the hostel and, after the teacher exchanged a few words with the driver, you all started to get in. Just like the hostel, it looked like it was going to break into pieces, but it turned out to be more stable than what it seemed.

“Where are we going?” Flash asked with his phone right into his face. You rolled your eyes at that.

“San Marcos”, Harrington said.

With a smile, you turned to look at Peter, who was with Ned at the end of the boat. He was already looking at you and sent you a little wink when your eyes crossed. It wasn’t long before the boat got to the Grand Canal and then it started to go faster, so you had to hold onto the edges so you wouldn’t fall since you were sitting on the edge.

Just like you had imagined, the famous Pizza was crowded with tourists, but you still couldn’t miss the beauty of it all. When you got off the boat and looked around, you were amazed by the white marble that surrounded everything, including the big famous church. Since it was early, you knew the place wasn’t opened to tourists yet, but it was still breath taking.

“Okay guys!” Harrington said, making you take your attention off the façade. “You have an hour to go around as much as you want and then we will go inside the church, alright? Don’t go to far and we will meet at the door in an hour.”

Immediately, everyone started to scatter. You looked around until you spotted Peter who was already walking away with Ned. So you looked for MJ who was taking a photo of the church. When you noticed you next to her, she turned around and took a photo of you, which took you by surprise.

The hour went by way faster than you would have wanted. MJ and you walked around the Piazza taking photos, feeding the pigeons and enjoying some gelato that a very nice man offered you.

“We should go to the church. It’s almost time”, MJ said checking her watch.

“Let’s go then”, you nodded.

“(Y/N)! Wait!” You spotted Peter running towards. It looked like he was coming from the church itself. “I want to show you something”, he said when you two were closed enough.

“We have to be at the church in five minutes, Pete”, you said and looked at MJ who just shrugged.

“C’mon! What if it’s the only time we get to be alone?”

“Besides last night, you mean?” MJ said. Both of you looked at her with an eyebrow raised. “I’m gonna go.”

You chuckled when she walked away towards the church and looked back at Peter, who had such a hopeful look that it was hard to say no.

“I don’t want to get in trouble”, you sighed.

“Please? Mr. Harrington won’t even notice we’re gone”, he said, giving you those damn puppy eyes that always managed to make you do anything.

“Okay, fine”, you finally said, making him smile widely. “But if we get caught, you’re taking the blame.”

“Absolutely”, he nodded before taking your hand and dragging you to where he had come from.

Since you had to walk near the church, you did it walking behind the marble columns that surrounded the whole place. It wasn’t until you had left behind the door of the church that you allowed yourself to slow down and take a breath.

“So where are we going?” You finally asked when Peter leaded you into a small street.

“You’ll see”, he said with a smile not letting go of the hand he was holding.

As it used to happen in Venice, you ended up getting to one of the many rivers that were around the city. Your first thought, was that Peter had got lost, but soon a gondola approached you. You took a step back thinking the man was just going to stop there, but then Peter started talking to the man in English.

“C’mon”, he said after a few moments.

“We… we’re going up?” You asked surprised.

Peter smiled widely and was the first to get into the gondola. Once he had set down his backpack, he turned around again and offered his hand to help you, which you took. The gondolier immediately took his place at the end of the embarkation and started rowing the moment you two were seated.

“I can’t believe this”, you said when Peter placed an arm around your shoulders. “You really arranged this?”

“Ned helped me a little”, he shrugged.

“I’ll thank Ned, then”, you teased. He laughed and pinched your side softly. “Thank you.”

The smile he sent you brought you right back to last night, to the moment you shared just next to the Grand Canal. You felt your cheeks getting warmer when you remembered the shadow of his lips over yours. The fact that you wanted his kiss so bad was even surprising.

“Look”, he said pointing at some point in front of you.

It wasn’t until then that you realised you had been staring at him, taking in every inch of his face like he was a picture you wanted to remember. Blushing even more, you looked in front of you to see a bridge that connected two buildings. It was the strangest bridge you had ever seen. It didn’t start on the ground, its beginning was on a building and the end was on the other one. Just like every other monument you had seen so far, it was also covered in old white marble.

If it wasn’t because of the story Peter had told you last night, you would have never imagined what was so special about it.

“Ponte dei Sospiri?” You asked.

“Exactly”, he nodded looking at the bridge for a moment and then at you. “I want to go under it with you.”

If you sigh with your beloved, you will be together for all eternity.

You looked at him as you remembered what he had told you the previous night. He was looking down at you with that smile he had only for you and those bright eyes in which you could get lost to every time.

“Do I have to sigh?” You said as you got closer to the bridge.

“If you want to be with your beloved…” he said quietly.

Was he asking if you wanted to be with him? Of course you wanted to. But what if he didn’t sigh? What if you were just confusing everything? You looked away from him to find that you were almost underneath the bridge. It was stupid. It was just a sigh, it didn’t have to mean anything… but what if it did?

You took a deep breath and closed your eyes, letting it go in a small sigh just when the gondola was under the bridge. At first, you thought it had been only you, but then you felt Peter sighing against your head and your heart skipped a beat.

It wasn’t until the bridge was already behind you that you opened your eyes again. Biting your lip, you looked at Peter, who was looking at you with a smile as well. He had sighed. You had heard it.

“It…”, you tried to say something but what were you supposed to say? “I liked it.”

“Yeah, me too”, he nodded, his eyes travelling down your face to your lips.

You turned your body slightly and placed a hand on his cheek. You would literally go crazy if you didn’t kiss him right there, at that moment. Peter’s free hand went to your waist, to pull you a bit closer, and was willing to kiss you once and for all when there was a strange movement of water underneath the gondola that distracted both of you.

“What was that?” You asked looking around.

“Waves?” Peter said, but you could see he was actually concerned.

“There are no waves in the canal, Peter”, you said and looked back at the gondolier, who was looking around with a frown as well.

“I think we should get down”, Peter finally said and you nodded in agreement, internally screaming for the interruption. What was wrong with the universe?

Peter asked the gondolier to stop the gondola a few feet further, just next the Ponte della Paglia, so you could get down. Just like before, he got off it first and helped you later. He stopped for a while to pay the gondolier before he took your hand and started walking towards San Marcos again.

“What’s wrong?�� You asked when you felt the urgency in his footsteps.

“Nothing”, he quickly said. “I just want to get to the rest.”

Even if you didn’t believe him, you said nothing and followed him. It looked like you weren’t the one who had a bad feeling about what had just happened in the water. Maybe it had been nothing and you were just being paranoid but you hadn’t liked it. When you reached the Piazza again, you spotted your class walking out of the church.

“Just in time I guess”, you said pointing at them.

“Yeah”, he nodded and started walking towards them.

However, you didn’t make it far. You weren’t even halfway there when a loud noise startled you and screams started around you. You turned around and the sigh made you froze in place. A huge wave of water was coming out of Canal, with such strength it destroyed some of the façade around the Piazza.

“What…”, you tried to say.

“Run!” Peter exclaimed. Holding your hand tighter, he started running towards the class, although they were already running in the opposite direction. “Go and hide!” He exclaimed.

“What? Where are you going?” You asked, stopping, when he let go of your hand.

“I’ll catch up! Go!”

“Peter!”

Before you could say anything else, someone grabbed you by your arm and made you run away. It wasn’t until you forced yourself to take your eyes off Peter that you saw it had been Ned the one making you run from Peter.

“Ned we can’t leave him!” You said.

“He’s coming, just run!” He said not letting go of your hand.

With your heart beating faster than ever, you looked back once again, but you were shocked not to see Peter anywhere. It was like he had vanished and you had no other choice but keep on running and trust he was okay.

But what the hell?

***

It had been hours since it all happened.

Luckily, you all had been able to get to the hotel without any injury or any casualty. Everyone except Peter, who you hadn’t seen since he had disappeared in San Marcos. You had tried calling him over a dozen times but his phone was off the whole time. It was driving you crazy not knowing where he was, if he was okay and, specially, why had he left you alone in such a moment to do who knows what.

“I’m sure he’s okay”, MJ, who was sitting on the stairs next to you, said.

“How do you know?” You asked and she shrugged. Really helpful.

“I’m fine, May, I promise”, you looked at the door the moment you heard Peter’s voice.

The moment he walked into the hotel you got up from your spot, but stopped when you saw him completely soaked from head to toe. Except for that tiny detail, he looked completely fine.

“Yeah, okay, okay”, he said and his eyes met yours, a small smile appearing.

But it was the fact that he was perfectly fine that angered you. It wasn’t like you wanted to get hurt, not at all, but the thought of him abandoning you for no reason and then showing up like nothing had happened, made your blood boil.

A couple of minutes later, he hung up the phone and slide it into his back pocket before walking towards you.

“You okay?” He asked, taking your hand in his and looking you up and down.

“Not thanks to you”, you said.

Peter clenched his jaw and looked up at you, since you were still standing on the stairs. It wasn’t the first time he had been forced to run towards the danger since he was Spiderman, but it was the first time someone was angry at him about it. The worst part was the he didn’t think he could blame you. If you knew he was Spiderman, you would probably understand why he had to leave you, but since you didn’t know… it just looked like he had left you.

“Where were you?” You asked.

Peter looked at Ned and then at MJ, both of them shrugged before leaving the room to give you some space.

“I… I got lost in the crowd. It was crazy out there”, he said.

“I noticed. That’s why we all came together to the hostel. You just let go and ran in the opposite direction”, you said. “And you left me alone.”

“You weren’t alone”, he pointed out.

“Are you really going to start with the technicalities?” You asked, pulling your hands away from his and crossing your arms over your chest.

“C’mon, (Y/N)…” he sighed, trying to take your hand again but you wouldn’t give in.

You huffed and turned around to go upstairs, you weren’t even in the mood to talk to him. You were waiting for him to explain himself or at least to apologise, but you got nothing. You just got a couple of stupid excuses that meant nothing and had covered himself with the fact that you weren’t really alone.

But the truth was that he had left you alone and he hadn’t even hesitated. And you didn’t even know why.

***

Peter wanted to follow you the moment you went upstairs, but he knew you well enough to know that it wasn’t a clever move to do. You were angry and needed time to cool off. So he went upstairs as well, but went to his and Ned’s room instead. Once inside, he found his friend sitting on the bed, probably waiting for him to tell him what had happened.

“And now she’s mad at me and I can’t even explain myself”, Peter said when he had finished telling the Elemental story to Ned.

“Maybe you could tell her”, Ned suggested.

“Tell her what?”

“That you’re Spiderman.”

“No”, Peter said immediately. “I can’t do that. I can’t put her in danger like that.”

“I think she’s in more danger not knowing”, Ned said.

“Ned, I can’t tell her”, Peter said getting to take his toothbrush. It was late and he just wanted to go to bed. He was exhausted. “She will probably get even angrier because-“

A thud noise shut him up. He turned around and his eyes opened widely the moment he saw Ned lying on his bed, with a dart stuck on his neck and his eyes closed.

“He will be fine”, a deep voice said from the door.

Peter turned around and his toothbrush felt from his hand.

Nick Fury was at his door.

***

When Peter was allowed to go back to the hostel, it was almost 2 p.m. He felt bad for rejecting the assignment that Nick Fury had tried to give him, but he didn’t feel like being Spideman. He just wanted to enjoy the trip with his friends and spend more time with you. Although, it order to do that, he first needed your forgiveness.

But how could he do that?

Maybe Ned was right and the only way to actually get you to forgive him was to come completely clean, but how could he tell you such a secret? Would you even be okay with that? He knew you were a big fan of Spiderman, but maybe it all changed if you found out that he was Spiderman. What if you stopped having feelings for him? What if you never had them and you didn’t even care that he was Spiderman?

“Damn it”, he sighed when he walked into the hostel. His head was spinning from everything that had happened that day.

“Now you’re into night lonely walks around the Canal?”

Your voice startled him. He hadn’t noticed you sitting at the breakfast table. You had your phone on your hand and you were looking straight at him.

The only reason you were there is because your mum had been texting you non-stop ever since you arrived back at the hostel. The first thing you had done was calling her to assure her that you were alright, but it didn’t look like it was enough. She was freaking out. So when MJ said she was going to bed, you decided to go back downstairs to call your mum and try to calm her down. Of course, the last thing you expected was for Peter to walk in the hostel just when you hung up the phone.

“Damn, (Y/N)”, he said, a hand to his chest. “You scared me.”

“I didn’t mean to”, you shrugged and looked back at your phone. There was already another text from your mum. You sighed and typed a quick reply.

“Are you okay?” Peter asked, taking a few steps towards you but he stopped, not knowing if you wanted him close.

“Like you cared”, was all you said. He frowned when your words felt like a stab into his heart.

“That’s not fair”, he said.

“Oh, it’s not?” You asked looking at him with fire in your eyes. “Then what’s fair, Peter? You disappearing today? You obviously keeping secrets from me? That’s fair?”

“No…” he said, knowing you had a big point.

“Don’t come at me with what’s fair, alright? You have no right”, you said getting up. Maybe it was time to go to sleep.

“I’m sorry, okay?” He said when you walked by his side, towards the stairs. “I shouldn’t have left you alone. It was a mistake. I thought…”

“You thought what? That I wouldn’t care? Why did you do it?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest.

Peter bite his lip, looking at you with worried eyes. There wasn’t much he could say. He could tell you the truth or make up some excuse and lie to you again. But the truth was that there was no valid excuse. He had literally let go of your hand and turned around, it was obvious that he hadn’t got lost, that it hadn’t been an accident.

“I can’t tell you”, he said after a few moments. You scoffed and nodded.

“Goodnight, Peter”, you said.

“No, wait!” He exclaimed when you started to walk towards the stairs again.

He had the feeling that if he let you go, he could risk loosing you and the thought of that was even worse than telling the truth.

“I’ll only stay if you tell me the truth, Peter”, you said.

“The truth is not easy to say”, he said.

“What is it? That you have no feelings for me? And that’s why you left me?” You asked angry, even if the thought of that being true was too painful to handle.

“No, of course not”, he frowned. “It’s the opposite. I had to protect you.”

“To protect me?” You laughed. “Peter, you’re 16, what were you going to do?”

“I’m…” he gulped and looked around. What if someone heard? “Can we go out? I need some air.”

You took a deep breath and nodded before walking out of the hostel. You stopped at the door, but Peter took your hand and walked down the street until you were a bit far from the hostel. He couldn’t risk anyone hearing what he had decided to say.

“Okay…”, he covered his face and then looked up at the sky, thinking of the best way to say this. “This is not easy for me to say, alright? The only people who know about me, found it out on accident.”

“What are you talking about?” You asked frowning, now more confused than angry.

“The reason I left you, all of you, to protect you is because I knew I could protect you somehow”, he tried to explain.

“Peter you did nothing. That random Mysterio guy did”, you said.

“I know”, he nodded. “Okay, remember the Stark Internship?” You nodded, even more confused. “It wasn’t exactly an Internship.”

“Oh, so you lied about that too? What else, Peter?” You asked frowning.

“Listen to me, please”, he sighed. “It’s true that I was somehow allied with Tony but not in the way everyone thinks I was. The truth is…”, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes, the words on the tip of his tongue and yet, he couldn’t bring himself to say it.

“Drop it, Peter”, you sighed. When he opened his eyes, he saw you shaking your head. “It’s obvious that you don’t want to tell me whatever big secret you’re keeping and I won’t force it out of you.”

“But-“

“I thought we trusted each other enough to be completely honest with each other, but obviously you didn’t feel the same way. It actually looks like you’ve been lying for a very long time”, you said. “Goodnight, Peter.”

Peter frowned as you started walking away. He couldn’t let you go, not like that, not ever. His feelings for you were too strong to do it or to ruin everything because of a stupid secret. He had already allowed Spiderman to come in-between so many aspects of his life, but he wasn’t going to let it come between you two.

“Stop!” He exclaimed, following you, but you didn’t stop, which frustrated him even more.

With a sigh, he hurried to grab you by your arm and turn you around, surprised to see tears running down your face. You pulled your arm from his grasp and tried to keep on your way, but he wasn’t going to have it. Once again, he made you turn around but this time, he pulled you closer and placed a hand on the back of your head before pressing his lips against yours.

Everything disappeared from your mind the moment his lips touched yours. Your stomach turned around and your heart started beating faster than ever when he let go of your arm and slipped his hand around your waist. Peter was kissing you and you were kissing him back and it was perfect. Like the two missing pieces of a puzzle that finally came together. You could just het lost in that moment forever and you would be perfectly happy with everything. However, reality soon came back when you forced yourself to pull away.

“Peter…”, you mumbled.

“I love you”, he said out of nowhere, leaving you speechless. “I’ve known it for a while, but I had never been able to say it. And it is because I love you that I can’t let this secret break us apart.”

You wanted to say something, ask what he was talking about, but all coherent phrase had left your mind and all you could was look at him, waiting.

“I’m Spiderman”, he finally said after a few seconds.

The new piece of information took a while to get to your brain and, when it did, you took a tiny step back, looking at the guy you had loved for months now in a whole new light.

“What?” You asked.

“I’m Spiderman”, he repeated. “I’ve been for a while now and the Stark Internship was just…that. I was in Germany with the Avengers when the Cap and Tony fought, I was in space when Thanos snapped his fingers and I… and I tried to save you all today because of who I am.”

“You…” you frowned.

You were going to say that it was impossible, that he couldn’t be Spiderman, but then the pieces started to fall together and it all started to make sense. His sudden disappearances, how it looked like he and Spiderman were always in the same place at the same time, how he had never been with you when you had seen the superhero and how he suddenly had some family in Germany you had never heard about. And why he was so extremely upset about Tony Stark’s dead.

“You’re Spiderman”, you said in awe. “How… Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was afraid you wouldn’t see me the same way, I guess”, he said with fear in his eyes.

“How could I not?” You asked.

“I don’t know”, he chuckled. “I guess you’re so important to me that I was scared that this thing could ruin everything for us. And it turns out that not telling you was what almost ruined everything.”

“I don’t know what to say”, you chuckled, still a bit confused. “I don’t care that you’re Spiderman. I fell for Peter Parker”, you shrugged. “The fact that he’s also a superhero only makes me love him even more.”

“You love me?” He asked, the hear in his eyes turning into hope.

“Of course I do, you idiot”, you chuckled. “Do you think I have that much interest in the Star Wars saga?”

“Hey! Those are classics!” He frowned, making you laugh this time.

“I love you, Peter”, you said before he could protest anymore. “I’ve loved you for a very long time now.”

“And do you forgive me? For…today and for keeping this from you?” He asked, a bit insecure all over again.

“As long as you promise me that no more lying between us”, you said, taking a step towards him.

Peter’s smile came back to his face slowly, feeling how a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders after so long.

“I promise”, he nodded.

With a smile, you placed your hands on his hips and pressed your lips together once again, this time actually enjoying one of the many kisses that you were planning on sharing with him. His hands cupped your face, kissing you back, relieved and happy that he had come clean, that he could be honest with you and that he had actually managed to get the girl of his dreams after loving her for so long.

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longitud-de-onda · 5 years

Note

hello! could you do headcanons for javi and reader where they were fake dating (maybe being undercover or something idk it's up to you!) turned real dating 😊

so first of all, @themandjalorian is already writing a fic very much like this, its very good and you should totally check it out here

i wrote out a bit of an undercover thing then i wasn’t feeling it, and i remembered the only fanfic i wrote in high school, which was this adorable fake dating thing i never published and it was based on some prompt about a character having been telling their grandparents about this s/o and them actually just being the neighbor, but then the grandparents come visit and want to meet the s/o so i’m going with something similar to that since it was kind of cute. idk how pleased I am with the final product... but it’s cute.

You had gotten so fed up with your parents asking you if you were dating anyone during your weekly phone calls that one day you burst and said it

“Okay! I’m dating someone! Is that what you wanted to hear? His name’s… Javier”

They were thrilled for you. Their calls started ending with “how’s it going with Javier” and they expected a little tidbit every time. About Javier. Your neighbor with whom you had only shared about 10 words with.

You had a crush on him, admittedly. It was easy to fall for that charming smile you saw strutting around the embassy. And yeah, you lived in the same building, and both worked at the embassy (in very different departments) but that didn’t mean you had a chance to talk with him.

The real danger of describing the fantasy of your relationship with Javier was that as your parents began to believe it, so did you. You saw him in the hallways and your brain was flooded with thoughts of your fantastical relationship.

But you never managed to work up the guts to even say hello to him.

That is, until your parents give you a call saying they’re coming down for two weeks to visit and they want to meet Javier, how about taking the two of you out to dinner the first night?

And you agree before realizing how bad of an idea it is.

In your panic you go running to Javier’s door because he has to agree or you’re going to have an awkward conversation with your parents.

You practically bang down his door and when he opens it, standing there, one arm on the door, hip popped out, you freeze, speechless.

“What can I do for you?”

“Um…”

It takes a very long pause for you to squeak out, “I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend.”

He laughs. “Did Steve put you up to this?”

You flush. This was awful. He was laughing in your face.

“No, I—this was stupid I’m sorry. I should have known. You don’t know me at all, and— you know what? Can we just forget this ever happened?”

But when he sees you retreating, looking completely shot down, he feels a little pang of guilt.

“Wait! ...You were being serious? Do you want to come in? Have a drink?”

Your heart soars. He just invited you into his apartment? Of course you say yes.

The story spills out over a glass of whiskey. When you get to the end, carefully replacing the part where you chose his name because of your massive crush with some half-assed lie about how you had seen him in the hallway the day you started the lie and he was the first face that crossed your mind, Javier sits for a good two minutes, the silence almost killing you.

“Sounds like fun. I’ll do it. ”

Which is not the response you were expecting but you’re grateful and jumping right into giving him all the background information on your pretend relationship and your parents and Javier is just sitting back, smiling and taking it all in.

After an hour you’re both on your second glasses of whiskey and feeling a bit like you had known each other for more than the short time you had actually spoken.

You go home, smiling to yourself, because if you were being perfectly honest the whole thing felt a bit like a date and you had fallen for him a bit more.

You are fucked.

The day your parents arrive comes way too quickly and before you know it you’re sitting at a fancy restaurant, Javier at your side, and he’s lying his ass off about how you two met and you’re utterly confused as to where this Javier came from.

Where was the Javier who slept with another woman every night? The Javier who drank whiskey alone on a work night? The Javier who knew every prostitute in town? The Javier who any parent would hate to have their daughter date?

This was an entirely different man, one who was inventing a relationship you could only dream of being part of.

The little moments when he touches your arm and smiles so reassuringly, they feel so real.

You thought this would be a good idea and now your stomach is churning at the elaborate lie you’ve woven for your parents, and the one you’ve woven for yourself.

Javi wasn’t in love with you. He hardly even knew you. And he definitely didn’t mean a single word he was saying nor action he was doing.

And it was so much worse as the week went on.

Your parents asked why you weren’t living together, which was embarrassing enough a question on its own, but only made worse by Javier’s immediate reaction of disgust before covering it up with a cough and an excuse about wanting to take it slow.

And one night Javier had warned you he had to leave a dinner at your apartment early, and the way he shuffled a bit and didn’t explain why was enough of a clue that he had an informant to meet.

It was so much worse when he kissed you before leaving. On the lips. Long and much more intimate than you were expecting.

You realize halfway through your parents visit that your feelings had somehow escalated as you got to know Javier more.

You no longer had a little crush on the man.

You had fallen in love because you had fallen for a lie.

At that point things begin to change. Your gazes become a little bit more real, and your touches linger a little bit longer.

The day arrives that your parents are leaving and Javier joins you in driving them to the airport.

His hand is around your waist as you wave the two goodbye. As they disappear into the crowds of the international departures, you don’t know when to let go.

Javi is the first to drop his hand. And the ghost of his touch burns on your side a bit more than it should.

The drive home is silent. It’s not until you get back to the apartment building that you say something.

“What was in it for you?”

He’s silent and you realize how rude that sounds.

“I’m sorry, I just meant—Thank you. Javier. You saved my ass.”

He gets out of the car and you follow him up the stairs. He turns to enter his apartment and you continue on, but he calls your name.

“I did it because it was nice to pretend things were normal for a bit. Working for the DEA, we don’t get nice things like that.”

And as much as it hurts to know it wasn’t about you at all, it hurts more that Javier feels that way. You had learnt enough about him and his work in the past weeks that you know how much of a commitment it is. You just didn’t know how much it took away from someone’s life.

The real pain comes that night when you hear the loud sounds of Javier fucking someone. The ones everyone in the damn complex are familiar with. The ones that feel like a bucket of ice water was dumped on your head, reminding you how not Javier’s you are.

It’s not until work the next week when Javier walks by your desk and catches sight of how dejected you look. It’s not unlike his own appearance, if you were being perfectly honest.

That night you get a knock on the door. You open to Javier who’s got a six-pack of beer.

“I don’t know why you look like you’ve been trampled over but I haven’t had the greatest week ever and honestly you’re the only person I’ve enjoyed spending time with in the past two months so I thought we could maybe cheer each other up?”

You’re so surprised that you step aside, forgetting momentarily that he’s the reason you look like crap.

Three hours later you’ve moved onto some strong liquors, and are tumbling over one another, laughing and telling stories and talking like you’ve known each other for years.

And suddenly his lips are on yours and you’re kissing back.

You don’t remember much the next morning, but Javi and you are both naked in your bed. It’s not too much of a jump to the conclusion that you slept with each other.

He’s already awake, and you begin the process of kicking him out of bed. And out of your apartment.

“I’m sorry, Javi,” you say, pushing him out of the door. You didn’t want to become another number in his long line of women. But somehow last night didn’t feel like he was just using you.

“Wait. Tell me you didn’t want that?”

“What?”

“Am I reading into things wrong? Or is there something here?”

The change in tone gives you pause. Enough to seriously question everything you thought about Javier.

“...did you want that?” you whisper.

“I think I did—”

“You think?”

“No. I know. I know I did.” He’s staring at you now.

“So did I.” You take a step forward, pressing your lips gently against his.

#javier peña #javier pena #javier peña x reader #javier pena x reader #javier peña headcanons #camila writes #rated t #under 2 #fluff #angst #c headcanon #request #narcos fic #javi x reader #anonymous #ask camila

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fallinallincurls · 4 years

Text

Birthdays In Quarantine

this is for everyone who’s missing out on the “true” birthday experience because of the current situation! i will be celebrating my birthday for the first time under weird circumstances without any of my friends so this idea had crossed my mind & a lovely anon actually requested it! so hope you enjoy!

word count: 1.6k+

~~~~~

This is not how you imagined spending your birthday. Stuck inside on quarantine and following social distancing rules took away all the ideas and big plans you had to celebrate the day that marks when you turn another year older. Instead of spending it how you had imagined, you’re at the condo with your boyfriend trying not to let the disappointment upset you.

Shawn had always loved your birthday. Over the three years you’ve been together, he’s always made sure to wake you up with extra cuddles, an overabundance of kisses and determination to make the entire day the best it could be because you deserve nothing less. When you realized plans had to change this year, you didn’t think about what Shawn would do in order to celebrate.

But when your eyes flutter open that morning, you already knew he was up to something.

You wake up to an empty bed, cold sheets and the longing for Shawn’s arms to be around you. The sun is peeking in through the bedroom windows and as you look around, it’s clear that the boy is nowhere to be found. Sighing, you let your head hit the pillow again and try to think positively about how the day is going to go. Who said your birthday has to suck just because of the situation you couldn’t control? If a movie marathon, bake off competition for the best cake, snuggles with your boyfriend or dance parties occurred at all over the next 24 hours, you would consider the celebration a success.

Just as you roll out of bed to head for the bathroom, you notice a small note accompanied by a piece of paper on your nightstand. A smile blossoms across your lips almost instantly as you read what was written.

Happy birthday, my love! Despite everything, today’s going to be one you never forget. Here’s your “ticket” to New York and you’ll never believe it, but I picked out an outfit for you! So get ready and meet me downstairs. I love you x

Your eyes glance at a realistic looking plane ticket and the element of surprise makes your heart skip a beat. The plan this year was to spend the day in New York City, see a Broadway show that you’ve always wanted to and have dinner in Central Park. But with everything either closed or canceled, that reality became impossible.

With excitement rushing through your veins, you rushed into the bathroom. You go through your usual morning routine and change into the beautiful outfit Shawn chose. By the time you step into the bedroom again, you can barely wipe the grin off your face at whatever Shawn is up to.

Grabbing your phone and the ticket, you open the door and find the hallway is decked out to look like an airport. A sign hangs on the ceiling right before the staircase which says “Gate 237” which matches the number on your ticket and a makeshift departure board dons an empty space on the wall. You find where the New York flight is and in the time slot it says, “boarding”.

A giggle slips out of your mouth as you head down the stairs to where you hope Shawn is. The walls of the staircase have small cutout pictures of airplane windows with the view of the Big Apple and your smile grows impossibly wider. It’s like he’s replicating what your whole trip would have been like.

“Shawn?” You call you when you reach the foyer and don’t find him waiting there. Instead you find your purse with another note taped on it.

Hey baby! You made it to “New York”! Go to the kitchen for our breakfast date and the best birthday of your life is about to start! Make sure you take your purse as well. There’s some really important things we’ll need in there. See you soon x

The familiar giddy feeling and love rushes through your body as you follow Shawn’s instructions and enter the kitchen. There, you find the tall, curly headed boy that you’re lucky enough to call yours, standing with a bouquet of flowers in hand and looking ever so handsome. He’s dressed as nicely as you are for the occasion and you can’t help but fall more in love with him in the moment.

“Hey birthday girl!” Shawn exclaims with pure excitement, a bright smile taking over his face as his eyes travel across your body. “You look gorgeous, sweetheart.”

“Thank you,” You blush wildly at the compliment. Even after all this time he still has a crazy affect on you. Shawn offers the bouquet to you before swooping in and kissing your cheek.

“Let’s eat, hm?” He pulls out a seat for you at the kitchen island and your eyes fall upon a beautifully made breakfast. But recognition immediately flashes across your mind at the dish.

“Is this-?”

“Your favorite order from Brooklyn Roasting? That cafe you love? Yup.” Shawn says proudly, flashing a happy smile. “Convinced them to send me the recipe and the moment I mentioned it was for you, one of their favorite regulars, they couldn’t have been more excited to share it.”

Tears are welling up in your eyes at the gesture. It’s so insanely sweet and so Shawn to go out of his way just to make everything perfect for you.

“Thank you, Shawn. This is incredible. You even got my iced coffee!”

“Only the best for you, my love. Plus, we’re only getting started. There’s a whole day ahead of us.”

After breakfast, which despite Shawn’s track record with cooking, is phenomenal, he leads you to the living room. A curtain is hung in the archway that leads to the room and Shawn turns to you, blush spread across his cheeks and eyes sparkling with love.

“You’re going to need those two tickets in your purse for this one.” He says softly, pecking your lips and giving you a cheeky grin. Raising your brows skeptically, you reach in and pull out two identical tickets which up until a few weeks ago were going to get both of you into a theatre on Broadway. “I know we couldn’t make it to New York for the actual show or for any of these plans we made so I thought I’d bring the city to you.” Shawn explains gently, each word full of pure adoration as he pulls back the black curtain to reveal the living room.

Exact replicas of Broadway playbills are laying atop each couch cushion, the coffee table is set up with an abundance of snacks and the large TV mounted on the wall is displaying a paused video for the show we were supposed to see live today.

“Shawn,” Your voice is barely a whisper with nothing but awe. “How did you-?”

“That’s my secret. But it wasn’t that hard to pull this together. You deserve the best and today is no exception to that, baby.”

Gently tugging on your hand, he leads you over to the couch. With an adorable smile, he sits next to you and hands you one of the playbills that you swear had to come from Broadway itself. You press a kiss full of gratitude and love to his cheek before flipping through the pages. Shawn’s arm wraps around your shoulders while you’re reading until he speaks up again.

“Baby, it’s showtime!” He practically cheers, the video on the TV starting and you instinctively cuddle in closer to him. Somehow he secured a professionally filmed copy of the show, which to our knowledge wasn’t something the general public had, instead of a bootleg like you thought.

“This is incredible.” You say with a smile, leaning your head on Shawn’s shoulder and intertwining your fingers with his.

“Shush, there’s no speaking in the theatre. Well, you can whisper but be respectful.” Shawn counters, a tone of playfulness evident in his words. You can’t help but giggle at his antics, deciding to play along.

“Can’t believe you did all this.”

“Perks of dating the Shawn Mendes.”

“Oh shut up,” You tease with a laugh, glancing at the boy you love with your entire heart. His cheeks are rosy and nothing but happiness and adoration radiates off of him. “But really, I can’t thank you enough for this. I was so upset about missing out on a real birthday because of everything happening, but you somehow made it even better than I could have ever imagined.”

“No need to thank me, sweetheart. I will always try to give you the entire world and I know how much you were looking forward to your birthday this year.” Shawn says genuinely, gaze locking with yours and you almost melt on the spot. “But we’re far from done. It might not be dinner in Central Park, but I’ve got a beautiful evening planned out for you on the balcony under those pretty lights you love with the skyline, your favorite homecooked meal and yours truly.” He continues and when you glance out the floor-to-ceiling windows on the opposite side of the room, you see the balcony all set up for his plans.

“I truly don’t deserve you, bub. This is the most thoughtful thing anyone’s ever done for me and I love you so much. Thank you for making everyday so special.” You mumble softly, cupping his cheek in your hand before leaning up to press your lips to his. The kiss is slow, tender and full of unsaid words and you swear you’ve never been more in love than right in this moment. “Really can’t believe you did all of this for me.”

“I love you endlessly sweetheart. Would do anything for that smile of yours. There’s a lot of birthdays ahead of us and I plan on making every one of them as amazing as possible.” Shawn admits lovingly, nudging his nose against yours before he turns playful again. “Now, pay attention to the show. Didn’t pay all this money to talk through the whole performance, hm?”

taglist: @imaginashawnns @ellalynnrose @curlsofshawn @shawnwyr @serendipitousshawn @hollandstom @particularstrings @tastebaldwin @vinylmendes @mendesficsxbombay @lovewithanattitude @lights-on-mendes @enchantingbrowneyedgirl @daisyangei @adelaidestreets @kerwritesthings @itrocksmysocks @amsterdam-parker

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iphoenixrising · 5 years

Note

I was thinking about the Titans working with the Avengers Kon and Bart still a little ticked at how Tim was treated brag about how fast Tim bonded with the Avengers. How Tony is seconds away from adopting Tim. How Bucky and Tim have come so close that he is in agreement with Tony to kidnap their new son. How they had to drag Tim out of Tony's lab where he and Peter were playing with DUM-E. To add insult Cass shows up and says how happy Tim is. Dick & Jason are off to get their baby bird back.

Hi babe.

WELP. This is not exactly what you were thinking of, but dammit. Dammit. Angst, you know?

But I mean, I really do enjoy two things: Tony Stark taking Tim in the Tower so they can literally wreck ALL the things; also, the Bats realizing the absolute fuckery of how Tim pretty much got booted out of the role as Robin, then running elbows over assholes trying to get him back and make up for it.

So, I kind of thought it might start out like this maybe...

“How do we look, Tin Man?”

“We look fantastic as always, Klondike. Sexy is our aesthetic. See anything from your perch?”

“You know what I’m looking at, Tones.” The Winter Soldier only partly means the view in Gotham.

And yes, Iron Man already has JARVIS focused on the two vigilantes walking around their Robin’s penthouse apartment. He knew letting Tim come back to Gotham was a bad idea, but dammit Steve had been adamant, saying they shouldn’t try to sway the kid.

“He needs to make his own decisions, Tony. We want him to come back because he wants to, not because we’re pressuring him, right?”

Tony and Buck had immediately called bullshit, but couldn’t argue when Tim himself, old backpack and worn hoodie, no mask over his eyes or utility belt around his hips, just a 19 year old kid that looked so much younger, so timid, so broken without his alter ego.

“It’s time for me to go back,” he’d said quietly to the gathered Avengers, a whole different kid without the mask. “I just wanted to say good-bye.”

His eyes are violet-blue and soft when he looks around at them, seemingly satisfied he’d single-handedly brought the team back together after the shit show that was Civil War. He can leave now since the mission he’d set out to do is accomplished, and is apparent since they’re all gathered in New York City once again, leaving the Compound for the new incarnation of SHIELD with Fury at the helm, pretty much infiltrating the Tower to start the road back to becoming the family they used to be.

(And God is it crazy, fighting and living together with the insanity that is their lives.)

It started with a broken metal arm, alien invasions, and a plate of superior nachos.

It ended up with the team saving each other’s asses, coming to an understanding, fighting it out, then crying it out.

It ended with Wanda sobbing in Tony’s chest while his arms around her are almost as tight as Peitro’s once were, with Steve red-eyed on Tony’s other side, whispering in his hair how never again – together means together, with Bucky’s forehead against the back of his neck and tears streaming down his face, with Bruce and Nat holding hands while their legs tangled with Tony’s, Steve’s, and Vision’s, with Sam laughing at them all while he’s wiping his eyes, with the whole group literally jumping on Thor the minute he touches down with the new haircut and air of perpetual weariness, with them taking up a big table in their favorite 24-hour diner feeding each other and telling stories about what they’ve all been up to since that awful thing at the airport.

Red Robin’s run with them started with fractured friendships and ends with them tripping all over each other during meals and movie nights. Bruce’s curry, Nat’s homemade dressing for the salad, Thor dipping in to snatch bites from everyone’s contribution. But this time around, it’s Sam and Wanda chopping vegetables while Bucky directs a sleepy Tony to a barstool close but out of the traffic, turning around to let the mechanic tie up his hair for him before he joins the cooking fiasco.

A week after they all move back in, he feels good leaving them with the rooms in the living quarters of Avengers Tower full of light and voices and warmth, just like it should have been. He’s giving himself a million vigilante points for this one – even if he’s going back out with no team and no safety net. It’s fine. He’s fine. He can’t stay forever anyway.

Besides, Kon and Bart have been trying to find him again, so it’s time to move on before they get too close. And really, he’s got no other excuses to stay. Bucky’s arm is maintained regularly, the broken team is working and the Accords (thankfully had been attacked on more than one side, thanks to big industries like WE and Queen, Inc. alongside Stark Industries) are modified to protect superheroes rather than stop them from doing what they do best.

All-in-all, he’d say the mission has been a success.

“Tim,” and the Captain moves away from Tony and Bucky’s side, one hand automatically out toward him, “you absolutely don’t have to go.”

“I appreciate the offer,” and he clears his suddenly tight throat, making sure the hood and too-long hair obscure his face. “But, it’s time.”

It only takes a glance back at the full team crowded around the communal floor television while the four player Mario Kart game stays on pause. The faces full of devastation make the message clear enough. With a decisive nod at the silent statement going through the team, Steve turns back to try arguing, the teenager is just–

–gone.

Tony, however, can’t shake the feeling of wrongness in the abrupt departure, and absolutely starts tracking the second he can pull away from the team to set-up protocols to trace the steps of their vigilante.

He listened to Steve’s half-hearted, “you know we can’t interfere with the Justice League, Tony. And Batman? Gotham is his territory. We go there, and there’s no guarantee we’ll be making it out if we even get past city limits.”

“Those guys might have the whole city wired with traps,” Natasha grudgingly admits. “Everyone knows the capes are unpredictable and terrifying. We should at least go through proper channels to get permission. Even if he’s still–”

“Oracle has nothing on me,” Tony’s eyes are all for the blipping red dot on his floating holo-screen.

Steve and Bucky exchange a glance behind Tony’s back, eyes meeting with a silent message. Bucky smirks and slides the muzzle up his face. Steve briskly turns on a heel and leaves the workshop with a plan already forming on how he’s going to run interference with the JLA so Tony and Bucky could sneak into Gotham without making a fuss.

Bucky strides the opposite way, hand on Tony’s bicep, leaning in to talk low, “tell me ya got something more stealthy than red n’ gold, Doll. That or yer gonna play my Oracle, and get me in the kid’s penthouse from somewhere safe n’ sound.”

“Oh hell no. You’re not going anywhere without me. I’ve got a trick up my sleeve, Buckeroo, and it’s going to get us an audience with our disappearing vigilante.”

Tony’s satisfied grin makes him look adorable enough that Bucky has to literally bite down on the inside of his cheek to stop himself from kissing (their) the engineer until he begs.

(Not like this. Steve had to be there when they were finally ready to tell Tony how they felt about him. Soon, they’d agreed last night after finding the exhausted mechanic asleep on the kitchen table with a tablet clutched in his hand and could finally admit to themselves how much he made them want.)

“I’ll bite. What d’ya got?”

“Just a little something super waiting in the wings. JJ, fire up the Quinjet. We’ve got a Robin to visit.”

With the Winter Soldier watching the two vigilantes facing Tim through his scope, Tony stands on a closer rooftop with the very new, very nice stealth armor, recording the footage of Nightwing and the Red Hood. His blood heats when it looks like they’re yelling at Red Robin while the younger is obviously bandaging himself up after a bad run-in.

And they’re not even helping him for fuck’s sake.

“Wow, that’s cold,” Bucky says softly while the comm in their ears are giving them the whole conversation. Something about Tim taking on a guy named Bane by himself. Seems to Buck like the kid took the asshole down, so the ass-chewing the other vigilantes are handing him seems to be pretty fucking ungrateful.

“They don’t deserve him. We have more sciency things for him to do. Crime fighting is always fun, but why not build amazing shit in-between?”

“Aw, c’mon Tones. Gotta let ‘im outta the lab so’s we can spar. Kid’s always got tricks. Makes fer some fun.”

“I know that’s why you like him so much, Barnes.”

“What, like I ain’t seen you fightin’ outside the suit before?”

“I’m not teenage vigilante kind of street-smart. I will punch the hell out of you, make some nifty explosions, re-configure your systems...oh.”

“Finally gettin’ it are ya?” And he can’t help it when his tone drops a little, watching Nightwing’s arms flail. “S’why I like ‘im. Reminds me of you, Doll.”

“...you might actually make me blush, Soldier. How novel.”

“If it helps, Steve never believed ya were just a guy in a suit. Not from the moment he met ya.”

“Where the hell did that come from?”

“Like I ain’t hung out with ya the past few months? I know how ya think, Stark, and ya ain’t just the armor.”

“Sure, sure. In all actuality, I’m the most well-paid consultant that ever lived.”

The Winter Soldier’s eyes flicker over where the Mark XXI is ducked in the shadows, jaw clenching because Tony’s odd self-deprecating tendencies bothers him just as much as it bothers Stevie. At some point, they’re going to address it with Tony, face-to-face. Not now, but that day is going to come, so help him.

In the meantime, Bucky tunes back in on the conversation happening inside, flips the safety on his rifle, and starts moving closer to Tony’s roof since they might not even need Plan B after all.

“What does that even mean, Timmy?”

“Calm it down, Big Wing. Pretender, look–”

“Do you see a fucking R on my chest, Hood?” And even from where he’s trucking over rooftops, Bucky can see the tension in Tim’s spine, the fast, angry movements as he tapes gauze pads to obviously fresh stitches. “I’m not ‘pretending’ fuck anymore. So how about you fuck off with that ‘Pretender’ shit.”

“...all right. That’s fair, so my bad. But lookit, B is all about ya coming ta the yearlies, you feel me?”

“What part of ‘it’s not my place’ isn’t clear here?”

The sigh from Nightwing is loud enough to hear it over the microphone Tony planted when they touched down.

“You have got to get over this thing,Tim. Dami’s been Robin for–”

“That’s what you think? That I’m fucking jealous, Dick?”

“He was a kid. He’s not still crying about the past–”

“Get. The Fuck. Out.”

The quiet calm of Tim’s tone is enough to make Bucky pause, and the sleek black Iron Man armor to step out of the shadows.

“I’m serious Tim! Listen–”

“I’m done. Done with you, done with the Bats, I’m fucking done. So do us both a favor and forget you were ever here.”

Nightwing flinches, his shoulders and back getting tight by the time Bucky is beside Iron Man, frowning behind the muzzle.

“I think we’ve heard about enough,” is distorted but still so Tony through the suit’s synthesizers. “Want a ride, Red Dawn? We can show up and be the likeable ones for once.”

“Really, Iron Man? I thought only Cap got special rides.”

“Well, I will always make an exception for my Bucky Bear, you know,” and he wiggles an arm, sighs a little as the Winter Soldier steps up against the suit, stepping up on to the rocket boots.

Having Bucky against him is something he can keep locked in the secret file in his brain he pulls up when he has bad days. Things like Steve hugging him, trips to the ball field, Bucky hanging out with him in the workshop while Steve drew or read or did paperwork on his tablet.

(Things he can never have. Sure, he can want, but he can’t let it get too real. Locking it away is safer for everyone.)

Knocking on the door of Tim’s balcony, shaking up the Bats, is really much more satisfying than Tony would have thought ten seconds ago.

He knows Tim is shocked, had probably been expected the big, bad Bat at his door rather than two Avengers waiting for entrance.

In his black and gold stealth armor, Tony waves metal fingers when the curtains pull back and Tim’s mouth drops open on the other side.

The door is wrenched open, and they can both hear, “we ain’t done here, Tim,” from inside, but Tim absolutely ignores it to stare wide-eyed at Iron Man and the Winter Soldier just, you know, hanging out on his balcony of all the fucking places.

“Tony. Bucky, what the hell–”

“Leave you alone for a few minutes, and you’re all kinds of hurt. Why am I not shocked? Winter Wonderland, are you shocked?” Tony gives no shits about interrupting this cute little family get-together and absolutely pushes his way in to Tim’s penthouse without a fuck to give.

As normal, Bucky is more of a doer than a talker when he’s in the mask, so Tony gets to watch him do that incredibly sexy murder strut right over the threshhold and grab a hold of Tim’s elbow. He snickers at the older vigilantes obviously gawking as the Winter Soldier pushes the third Robin down in a seat at his kitchen table right by the open first-aid kit.

“Zadnitsa,” the Winter soldier snarls in rebuke, already digging out more gauze pads.

“I missed you too, Frosty,” Tim shoots back, obliging the dangerous assassin by holding still while the gauze pads are taped down and more alcohol wipes are used to disinfect a serious slice on Tim’s shoulder blade.

Honestly, Tony has no idea how he even managed to stitch it himself, but the helmet swings over to the two surprised vigilantes.

“This sure as hell ain’t a good way to show it, y’know,” Bucky pulls the goggles off but leaves the mask, metal arm moving seamlessly while he gently pats the remaining slice with disinfectant.

“Well, I didn’t expect you two to just drop in or anything. Or else, I might have a nice psycho for you to take down.”

“Well, shows you, don’t it?”

“I guess so. But I do have a bag full of plums in the fridge, so you’re in luck.”

“Hell yeah, Red.”

The faceplate of the helmet kicks up and Tony is grinning beneath it, “aww, plums for our favorite murder bot? What about coffee for your best engineer friend–”

Bucky pauses abruptly, and Tony sees the movement, a soft sigh of sound, but only just. The knife as long as his forearm is just suddenly out, metal hand on Tim’s good shoulder, holding him down, some automatic instinct to protect the kid makes Tony bite the inside of his cheek so he isn’t smiling.

The other vigilantes, however, are really intimidated in their own right since Red Hood has twin .45s in his gloved hands and Nightwing’s escrima sticks spark a few times for good measure.

“Tim, get up slowly and step back,” Nightwing’s voice is just this side of dangerous.

“We gotcha back, Tim, you feel me?” Hood’s thumbs flick the safety, a whole lot of not fuckin’ around happening right here.

“Do me a personal favor,” the unmasked vigilante deadpans, “and go fuck yourselves.” Tim wiggles out from under the hold on his shoulder and stands, gingerly puts a hand on Bucky’s brandishing the knife. He waits for those blue-gray eyes to slide over to him.

“C’mon, Bucky,” Tim tries to cajole softly, “these guys aren’t a threat. The knife is very nice. Is it new? You know I like to look at new weapons, but you can put it away. Promise.”

“Malyutka,” is a question more than a statement.

Tim huffs in annoyance because honestly, he’s not a kid. (Welp, take into account, 100+ year old assassin, and maybe he can see the point.)

“My apartment, my rules, and if anyone, anyone,” he stresses, glaring at the two tense vigilantes, “gets blood on my floors or walls, then it’s fucking on. Everyone get that?”

“You’ll have to forgive us for being jumpy,” Nightwing deadpans, “we have a tendency to treat legendary assassins with immediate attention when one’s in our city, right Hood?”

The stiff angle of the guns doesn’t waver, nor does the helmet move. “Gotta say,” Hood’s voice is deep, even with the synths, “always thought this might go down different if our paths ever crossed again, Soldier.”

From behind the muzzle, Bucky’s teeth flash white, a terrifying smile, “last time my Handler wouldn’t let me kill you, Red Hood. Wanna to give it a go now that I don’t have one?”

“Sounds like a fucking party to me, sweetheart. Ya gimmie a time n’ I’ll bring the motherfuckin’ confetti.”

“Any. Fuckin’. Time–”

“As entertaining as this is,” Tony interjects, the soft haaa when the armor opens up to let him step out, “our host absolutely said no blood, right boys?”

Slowly, weapons lower, but the tension is high in the room, only broken when Bucky points a gloved finger back to the chair Tim was previously in.

(And during the time Tim had spent with the Avengers, none of them knew the Winter Soldier and Red Hood had met before. He’s going to want some details on that little scuffle.)

“Thank-you. I’m glad good manners are winning out over bullshit posturing,” and Tony pours on his media smile, giving Nightwing and the Red Hood something else to look at while Bucky gently finishes up with their vigilante. “Because really. We’re literally all on the same side here. We just happen to go through legal channels to beat the shit out of bad guys. Not as much fun, but you can’t beat the tax breaks.”

“Mmhm, I’m really hoping you aren’t in Gotham as Iron Man, Mr. Stark. You know there are rules about being in this city.”

And Tony would bet his entire fortune Nightwing has a listening device somewhere in that ridiculously tight suit for the Dark Knight to monitor what’s happening in Red Robin’s apartment right this moment.

(Especially the fact they know his civilian identity and are comfortable enough calling him by his real name. They probably aren’t going to be on any Justice League party invites for a while after this. He wonders how Steve is doing with Superman and Wonder Woman right about now.)

“I asked them to come,” Tim interjects, not bothering to glance at either vigilante, “they’re here to help me with a case. My lead is a dead-end, so we’re all going to be out of Gotham as soon as fucking possible. The Batman will have to deal with it.”

Tony hums, crosses his arms over his chest. He meets Bucky’s quick glance, quirks a grin since maybe they could convince him to come to New York instead. Or, if his Plan B is still waiting in the wings, they could do something altogether different.

(There’s a whole floor available in the Tower, and wouldn’t that be some incentive for Tim to get it together and land somewhere more permanent?)

“Tim…” and the wealth of warning there isn’t enough to earn Nightwing the youngest vigilante’s attention after the last gauze pad goes on.

But the youngest of the vigilantes stands from his chair, turns to give them the same fuck you and the zip line you rode in on attitude, “don’t fucking even with me, N.”

“You can’t come to the yearly gathering for one night, but you can pal around with the Avengers?”

And oh! Is that jealousy he hears? Tony has to bite down on the inside of his cheek to keep from smirking because wow, Nightwing does not sound very happy.

“It’s none of your fucking business–” and that tension is back in the square of Tim’s bare shoulders, the flex of his forearms.

Tony easily picks up his discarded nerd shirt, pointedly steps between him and the glowering vigilantes, shoves the shirt over the kid’s head and ignores his sputtering.

“I’m sure nothing that would interest you,” Tony makes a point to stay between the two groups, “I mean, you don’t work with Red Robin anymore, right? So he’s a free agent. Believe me, he’s been super helpful with us in New York, I don’t know if we'd all be in the same room without him.”

Tony is being absolutely innocent about it, letting Tim shove his arms in the right places while he grins at the obviously unhappy vigilantes over his shoulder.

The glare Tim levels at him would have probably withered anyone else. Good thing Tony has very, very little shame, and between him and Steve, the best troll in the Avengers award is still undecided. This might just put him over the top. He doesn’t need Bucky to remove his mask to know there’s a smirk underneath.

“I’m sorry, what now?” The whiteouts swing from Tim to Tony, “since when don’t we work together? We only have since you were twelve–”

“And we haven’t since your Robin kicked me the fuck out of my home. I’ve been out of the Cave, out of this city, and out of your life since then, so don’t come here with some attitude about it.” Tim’s eyes slide to the Red Hood. “You two coming here to ask me about the yearlies? Like I’ve been there for the last three? Like I haven’t come back unless someone called me in because, let’s face it, I’m just another body to fight the good fight, right? So this? Acting like I’m just going to forgive and forget? You can both absolutely go fuck yourselves.”

And some tiny part of Tony feels utterly proud in that moment, feels somewhat vindicated at how cold and calm Tim is, how he’s just laying it all out on the table, no bullshit, no contingencies, no taking the high road, no giving in, and it’s so much the Tim he knows, squaring his shoulders and facing both older vigilantes with anger so cold it burns.

“I–I mean, Tim–”

“There is literally nothing you could say right now that I’d want to hear, Nightwing. Nothing. All those years of fighting together, of being partners? I never would have guessed you’d be the one to stab me in the back, but I guarantee you won’t get another chance.”

But, the night gets that much better when Nightwing and the Red Hood gives them the death glare of doom before Tim pretty much kicks them out of his apartment.

Tony isn’t cheering out loud, but wow does he want to.

“Timmy,” Nightwing gives it one last, desperate try, turning at an impossible angle with one leg out the window to face the de-masked vigilante, tone low and serious.

“You’re a few years too late, Nightwing. Now get the fuck out.”

Tim had flicked his hand out behind him, a flat palm telling Tony and Bucky to stay back when he pretty much forced both vigilantes out of his apartment with a sneer of disdain and a promise to set his security protocols to shock the utter fuck out of them if they ever tried to come back to his last hold-over in Gotham. By the way the Red Hood stood shock still, and Nightwing’s frown deepened, they apparently believed him.

While Tim shuts the windows, locking them with finality, Bucky finally pulls off his muzzle and goggles, exchanges a worried glance with Tony when he realizes Tim’s hands are shaking.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Is soft but firm, is obvious Tim is trying to put himself back together.

“Well, as I said earlier–”

“Don’t bullshit me, Tony. There’s no case.”

With how empty and cold Tim sounds, how his hands are fisted at his sides, the tremble going through him, Tony pauses to take in the rest of the signs. He catches Bucky’s eyes and makes an executive decision.

Plan B it is.

“Okay, you’re right. No case. But, what I do have for you is more interesting and important than a case right now. Meaning, I still need your help with it.”

And when the kid finally turns to face him, face them, Tony can see the effects of dealing with Nightwing and the Red Hood in the clench of Tim’s jaw and the way he won’t really meet Tony’s eyes. A distraction is exactly what he needs, a reason to get the hell out of this city before he drowns in his own misery.

Instead, Tony turns his head toward a window, “all right, kid. Time to make your dramatic entrance!”

The super speed never gets old.

Not to mention the fact, Superboy is absolutely adorable when he’s just suddenly there, grabbing Tim around the waist and hugging him a little desperately.

“Oh my God, Kon?!”

Blue eyes blown wide, Tim’s eyes go from the meta-human wrapped around him to Tony’s soft smile to Bucky’s gentle smirk.

“Tim, Tim I can’t– I just! I...I missed you so much, Tim. We all missed you so much,” and Kon-El’s voice is barely a croak, heavy and thick with emotion, his face buried in the side of Tim’s throat, his back hunched over the smaller vigilante. “I needed to see you. Sorry about this, but...I’m not really.”

Like muscle memory, Tim’s brings a hand to the back of his best friend’s neck, making small circles against the tight tendons with his finger tips, still looking more shocked than pissed.

Tony is absolutely going to take it as a win.

**zadnitsa means ass or asshole kind of. Thanks Google Translate :D

#crossover au #tim drake #tony stark #bucky barnes #steve rogers #jason todd #dick grayson #conner kent #winter answers #yet another drabble #my drabble #my writing

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the-tiva-og · 4 years

Text

His Ninjas

Hey, y’all. This is my contribution to @talisbirthdaychallenge for our favorite little ninja’s birthday. I’m going to warn you that it is 100% straight-up fluff, but there’s three chapters of it and that is the most I’ve written in a while, so I hope you enjoy it.

And if you want to read it on AO3, I’m gonna add that link. https://archiveofourown.org/works/24832249/chapters/60067054

Chapter 1: Departures and Arrivals

“I still do not understand why we need to take a taxi,” Ziva said, handing a suitcase to Tony as he loaded it into the back of the van. He grit his teeth a bit and anyone passing could immediately tell that this was certainly not the first time that this discussion had taken place, “I already told you, Sweetcheeks. I fight my way through the Metro five days a week, there’s no way that I’m doing it with three suitcases and a five year old in the middle of rush hour.” “Rush hour is exactly why we should not be taking a cab!” Ziva said with exasperation clear in her voice. “Daddy! Are you sure I can’t bring Kalev and Pikachu?!” Tali’s voice called out from the doorway of their townhouse, interrupting the bickering couple. Tony stood up and cracked his back, “I am very sure, T-Bird.”

The little girl looked sadly at the two plush toys in her arms. Tony walked over and knelt in front of her, “Listen, kiddo, one of these brave guys has got to stay here and take care of the house while we’re away. You know, make sure that Marc doesn’t over-feed the fish, keep the pigeons out of the flowers on the windows, things like that. I know that you really want to bring them both, but we’ve got to leave room in your bag for souvenirs, remember?” Tali looked, uncomfortably, from her father to the two toys she was carrying. “Which one should I bring?” she said, quietly, “I don’t want to make them sad.” “Well,” Tony said, holding out his hands to take the toys, “let me talk with them.” Very seriously, Tali handed them to Tony. “Okay, guys,” he spoke to them, “which one of you is responsible enough to take care of the whole house while we’re on vacation?” Using the toys like puppets, he had them look at each other. “Woof woof!” he spoke through Kalev and responded, through Pikachu, with “Pika pika!” He turned the toys back to face him, “Sounds like they made a decision.” Tali looked at him with bated breath. “Kalev has said that he’s gone on trips with Tali before, so he would be happy to watch the house. Pikachu has friends in Tokyo, so he would really like to go on vacation with Tali so that maybe he could see some of his old friends,” Tony responded, as though he was reporting actual facts. Tali looked from her father to each of the toys, in turn, then nodded. “That sounds good,” she said. Tony smiled, “Alright, why don’t you put Pikachu in your backpack and I’ll take Kalev back inside and let him know the rules while I lock up the house. Got everything you need?” Tali smiled, taking the plush Pikachu from his hands, “Yep!” “Good girl. Ima’s waiting for you at the taxi, okay?” he tousled her hair as he stood and carried Kalev back to the house.

“I see you picked out your toy,” Ziva said as Tali walked toward her, pushing Pikachu into her little blue backpack. “Yeah, Daddy said that Kalev needs to stay behind and protect our flowers from the pigeons.” Ziva chuckled, “Did he? Well, I am glad that you were able to get that settled. Kalev certainly is the best puppy for the job.” “Besides, Daddy said that Pikachu wanted to see his friends in Tokyo,” Tali said, letting her mother help her into a seat in the taxi. “Ah, yes, that is right. He’s from Japan, isn’t he?” Ziva said, smiling, as she buckled Tali into the seat and moved to take the seat beside her. Tony returned and took his seat. Looking at Tali and Ziva, he smiled and asked, “You guys ready for an adventure?”

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Tony checked his watch and smiled. “See, look at that,” he began, “made it in time to get through security, grab a bite to eat, check in, and we won’t have to rush the kiddo to finish her food before we get on the plane.” Ziva playfully rolled her eyes, turning from watching Tali happily munching on her sandwich to look at her partner. “Looking for me to stroke your ego, mon cher?” she snarked. He looked at her with puppy-dog eyes and a little pout, saying, “It would be nice.” She gave a bark of laughter before leaning across and pressing a small kiss to his cheek before giving it a teasing pinch. He yelped, drawing disapproving glares from many of his fellow travelers, but a wicked smile from his partner.

After Tali finished her dinner, Tony checked the time once more. Looking up from his watch, he announced, “Last chance for a potty break before we get on the plane. If you have to go, speak now or forever hold your pee.” Tali looked up at him strangely, “Is there not a bathroom on the plane?” He chuckled, “Yeah, but it’s not as easy to get to and you can’t use it until the pilot does the ‘ding’ thing and we can take off our seatbelts.” The little girl continued to give her father a skeptical look, trying to remember her last time on an airplane. Ziva broke in, “Well, I am going to the restroom. Tali, why don’t you come with me and at least try to go?” She gave a nod of agreement and hopped out of her seat, grabbing her mother’s hand and following her through the airport.

By the time that the entire family had returned from their pit stop, there was a general rustle in the air of the gate which indicated that boarding would begin soon. “Ah!” Tony gasped, “I’ll be right back.” He then dashed off away from the gate. “Where’s Daddy going?” Tali asked, looking in the direction he had just gone. Ziva looked after him with a similarly puzzled expression, “I… am not sure. We should go ahead and get everything ready to go, though. Do you have your backpack?”

Tony arrived just in time to board the plane with Tali and Ziva. “Where did you go? You were almost late” Ziva admonished, as they walked down the jet bridge to their plane. He grinned and held up a bag, “You always do forget your gum and magazines.” Her look turned soft and she gave a shy smile. To his credit, he managed to wait until she looked away before plastering a victorious smirk on his face. Dragging moments of cute, knowing romanticism out of Ziva had turned into one of his most compelling goals ever since she returned to him. Since this was their first vacation as a family since their reunion, he refused to let the opportunity pass him by.

They settled into their seats, Tony sighed happily as he gave a little stretch and snuggled into the cushion. “Ahh, business class on the company’s dime,” he said with a smile, “nothing better than that.” Ziva snorted a laugh as she helped Tali fasten her seatbelt. “I wanna see out the window,” the little girl whined. “Hush, hush, ahuva,” Ziva soothed, “When the plane gets in the air, perhaps your father would let you sit in his lap and look out for a while.” Tony turned to his daughter with a grimace, “It’s cloudy outside anyway, probably not going to be much to see.” Tali pouted a little, but accepted the answer. The roar of takeoff and a coloring book offered to her by the flight attendant soon had Tali completely forgetting about wanting to see out the window. Tony glanced over at Ziva and smiled as she colored a page, following their child’s instructions. He began scrolling through the in-flight entertainment, intent on catching up with the movies he had missed while working on his latest project. Tali, like her father, soon found the list of movies and fell asleep halfway through a cartoon movie that Ziva was certain she had seen before. She reached across and pulled the blanket up a bit over the child’s shoulder, then returned to her magazine.

When Tali awoke, the flight attendants were beginning to serve breakfast. “Where are we, Ima?” the little girl asked, groggily. Ziva showed her how to use the entertainment screen to see the map showing the plane’s location. “How much longer?” Tali asked. “Almost seven hours,” Ziva replied with a little smile. Tali frowned, “We’ve been on this plane forever.” Before Ziva could respond to that, Tali continued, “I’m hungry.” There was a much easier answer to that than the original question. “Well, you are very lucky,” Ziva began, “because you woke up just in time for breakfast.” Tali’s eyes lit up and she sat up straighter in her chair, “Where is it?” “Patience, my love,” Ziva corrected, reaching out to her antsy daughter, “they are bringing it.” “Who?” Tali said, wiggling in her seat, trying to see the people her mother said were bringing breakfast. “The flight attendants,” Ziva responded, “Sit still, ahava.” Tali leaned into the aisle and hissed, “Pssst! Abba! Daddy!” Tony took a deep breath and shook his head, blinking awake, “Huh? Wh- What is it?” “They’re bringing breakfast!” Tali whispered excitedly, as though letting Tony in on a wonderful secret. “Alright,” Tony smiled at his daughter, “thanks for waking me up, T-Bird. Don’t want to miss a meal.” He gave a showy wink to his daughter and partner. “It would be very unlike you to miss a meal,” Ziva teased. As soon as Tali got her meal, she opened the cover of the main course and gasped, “Ima! Look! My rice looks like a chicken!”

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“Alright, you take Tali to the restroom, I’ll go wait for our luggage,” Tony said as they surged out from customs with Tali grimacing and clinging to her mother’s hand. “Ima!” Tali cried out, tugging on Ziva’s hand. “We will meet you at the luggage carousel,” Ziva responded as she spotted the sign for the restrooms and hurried off in that direction. By the time that they returned, Tony had two suitcases and was waiting for the third to come around on the luggage carousel. “Daddy!” Tali cried out with a grin, “I saw a big picture of Pikachu!” “Hey, that’s great, kiddo,” Tony responded, glancing at Tali before looking and spotting their last bag.

The family passed the rest of the afternoon and evening in the hotel. Tony had to talk with his team and make plans for the next week. Meanwhile, Ziva and Tali read through some Tokyo guidebooks and discussed what they wanted to do in the week of vacation before Tony had to go to work. They had dinner in the hotel’s restaurant and returned to their room. Tali turned on the TV and found a channel playing cartoons. Tony watched her for a little while, grinning at how enraptured she was with the program, despite it being in Japanese and the little girl only knowing the few phrases that he and Ziva had taught her in preparation for their trip. “She gets that from you, you know?” Ziva spoke quietly, making him jump in surprise, not realizing that she had walked over to the office area of the room. He grinned and sarcastically responded, “Oh, you mean her natural drive to learn languages?” Ziva scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Hey, let me see that list you guys were working on,” Tony said, turning to face her. She gave him a curious look. “You know, we don’t really know our way around here, so I thought that maybe we should make an itinerary or plan or something,” he explained. “Look at you being so clever,” she said smiling warmly at him and handing the list to her partner. Tony glanced over at Tali to make sure that she was still watching television, “So, when do we tell her about her surprise?” “We should probably tell her soon,” Ziva responded, “Maybe over breakfast tomorrow?” Tony nodded, “That’s a good idea. I’m lucky you’re so smart.” She swatted his arm, “You have already won me over, you do not have to continue greasing me up.” He took a moment to think about what she said, opening and closing his mouth a few times and squinting in thought, “Do… do you mean buttering you up?” She shrugged, looking at him, “Do I?” “I hope so,” he laughed, taking the list from her and looking it over.

#HappyBirthdayTali #Tiva #Tivali #Tony DiNozzo #Ziva David #Tali DiNozzo-David #tiva fanfiction

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