#vostanik sabatino x reader

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3 Times Sabatino Thought About Proposing and the 1 Time He Did - Part Four: Cake - Vostanik Sabatino x Reader (feat: Nina Barnes)

Tagging: @kmc1989 @words-and-seeds @novamariestark @whateversomethingbruh @trublu2u @stelacole @@elixae

Part One: Adjustment Period - Nik decides it's time to propose.

Part Two: Sassy - Nik's plans to propose are thwarted by your sister Sassy.

Part Three: Love Language - Nik loses the ring during a footchase.

Sabatino decides to call it quits on the proposal. It’s clear to him at this point that it’s not the right time, that the universe keeps throwing up obstacles for a reason. All he wants is for it to be special for you, but he keeps just fucking it up. The pressure is stressing him out and it’s starting to affect the relationship. You can tell he’s hiding something from you and the fact he refuses to discuss it creates an issue. There’s always been things he hasn’t been able to tell you, you accept that, but this is different.

The pause will hopefully give him a little breathing room.

Things go back to normal; he lives in the present instead of being preoccupied with the future. He starts to have fun again, exist in the moment. The two of you spend the weekend taking some time to reacquaint with each other. His job’s been a little manic and you’ve been working a case with the FBI, you’ve barely existed in the same space over the past couple of weeks. He spends Saturday morning in bed with you, his hands chasing over your skin as he makes love to you in freshly laundered sheets. After dinner you go for a walk on the beach because you’re craving sweet and he’s thinking ice cream.

He lives for moments like this, strolling down the boardwalk, his fingers entwined with yours. There weren’t many of them when he was working for the CIA, now he treasures every single one.

The sun is setting when you come across Nina’s cupcake truck. Your eyes light up, and ice cream is completely forgotten because he knows how much you love her Red Velvet cupcakes and she only has one left. He leaves you sitting on a bench, watching the ocean roll up on the shore. He knows you find it soothing, the crash of the waves, the motion of the water.

“A little bird tells me you’re planning on locking that down.” Nina says, gesturing towards you when he orders the cupcakes.

“I was.” Sabatino tells her as he hands over the cash. “But the universe had other plans, so here we are.”

“You got in your own head.” Nina says knowingly as she opens up two individual cake boxes.

“There’s a lot of pressure to get it right you know?” He explains, his palm running over the nape of his neck. "It was causing a few issues between the two of us, so I shut it down."

Nina rests her elbows on the counter before leaning forward.

“Maybe it’s for the best.” She says with a shrug before picking up an icing bag and tilting the red velvet cupcake towards her. “I mean you’re already falling down at the first hurdle.”

“First hurdle?” He repeats with a bitter laugh. “Trust me, there have been plenty of hurdles and we’ve cleared every single one of them.”

“Uh huh.” She says as she surveys her work on the cupcake. “Then this little one should be no problem.”

She shows him the cupcake and his gaze flickers up to her in disbelief when he reads the words ‘Marry Me.”

“Are you serious?” He asks her, his hands on his hips.

“It’s cute right?” She says before putting it away into its own box. “And it’s perfect for her. She’s low maintenance and this is something a little bit special. Not too showy but personalised. Even you can’t fuck it up.”

He hates to say it but she’s right. He couldn’t have chosen a more perfect moment. The tide is coming in, the waves creeping up the shore and the light is just sublime, that cascade of colours illuminating the beach.

“What do I owe you?” He asks her, taking the box begrudgingly.

“I get to make the cake for your wedding.” She barters with him.

He gives her a look before he crosses his arms over his chest and sighs.

“Fine, if she says yes, then you get to make the cake.” He agrees before pointing his finger at her. “But if she says no, I get free cupcakes for life.”

“Yea that’s not happening.” She tells him, shaking her head. “If she says no, you get a pity cupcake, this one time and that’s it.”

“Deal.” He agrees before turning his back on Nina and focusing his attention on more important things.

You rise to your feet when he appears alongside of you, the individual cupcake box in his hand. You smile as you take it from him. That smile, it lights up his entire world and he knows that this is it, this is his moment.

He has the ring in his hand when you open the box, he watches as you study the writing before you tilt your head towards him.

“Nik…”

He doesn’t get down on one knee. It’s not your dynamic. Your partnership has always been based on mutual respect, meeting your challenges face to face and that’s how he intends to do this. He takes your hand in his, the ring clasped tightly between his fingers.

“Alana, I have loved you since that day you showed up in Afghanistan and every day, I loved you more. I want to grow old with you, start a family with you, I want…” He pauses for a moment, his voice rough as he struggles to find the words. “I want you to be my wife. So, I’m just a boy standing in front of a girl with a cupcake, asking her to marry me.”

You laugh and it’s such a rich, beautiful sound. He hopes he gets to spend the rest of his life hearing it.

“Yes Nik.” You say as he slips the ring onto your finger. “Of course, I’ll be your wife.”

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StolenMoments!Series - Part One: First Date - Vostanik Sabatino x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @novamariestark @words-and-seeds

You try not to like Sabatino, you really do. He's a spook, a CIA Officer, a master of manipulation but there's just something about him that captures you. You know that the outcome of that last mission weighs on him, you can see the regret in his eyes when he talks about Brendan Broake’s death.

Murder is what you’d thought when you’d first encountered him under his alias.

Accident is what he had told you in the aftermath.

You believe him, despite yourself.

When he’s not wearing a persona, he’s captivating. He talks with his hands, the left side of his mouth quirks up into a smile, his accent is sharper, more defined. It’s a far cry from the alias he was using when you first met him, an insurance adjuster called Roger who simply spat out the word lawyer.

“I heard you had to cancel a date tonight for this?” He says as he sits beside you in an unmarked car, watching the building across the street.

You’ve been here for a couple of hours, keeping an eye on your target. He hasn’t done anything more interesting than pass by the window a couple of times with a glass of top shelf whisky in his hand. In comparison the two of you are now eating Chinese from white take-out boxes with chopsticks.

“Sam and Michelle are trying to set me up with a teacher friend of theirs.” You tell him, your eyes fixed on Sidorov’s window.

“I’m guessing you weren’t looking forward to it.” He says, digging through the noodles in his box in search of the chicken.

“Trust me I much prefer being here with you tonight.” You utter, grimacing as Sidorov lingers in front of the glass with his robe open. “I never know what to say when they ask what I do for work…”

“Because if you say law enforcement, they either lose interest or they get a little too interested.” He summarises, nodding knowingly.

He’s been there, he was DEA before he became an operative for the CIA, he’s met his fair share of badge bunnies. They’re good for a night but anything more than that and they start to get a little crazy.

“I had a guy take me home to show me his murder wall once.” You reveal and suddenly his interest is piqued. He tilts his head towards you.

“O.J, JonBenét Ramsey or Jonathan Luna?” He asks because he’s been on the receiving end of the first two before and the third is more of a personal favourite, he’s listened to it recently on a true crime podcast.

“Technically two of those are already solved.” You remind him and he almost spits out his food because there’s not a person in his very small circle who knows who Jonathan Luna is, despite how weird the case is. The fact you do…

It makes him like you just that little bit more.

“Jonathan Luna’s not solved.” He protests, pointing the chopsticks at you. “There’s not a chance in hell that was a suicide. You can’t convince me otherwise.”

The edges of your mouth twitch up into a smile and his gaze meets yours. A blush creeps up his cheeks because he’s just betrayed a part of himself, shown you something that he’s passionate about. You want to explore that a little, hear his thoughts, his theories. You want to hear all about those true crime podcasts you know he listens to.

“It was The Golden State Killer.” You respond to his earlier question “Before they caught him.”

Boring, he thinks. Every man and his dog had a theory on that one before Paul Holes had managed to track down the killer. He is curious though…

“Was he close?” Sabatino asks, picking up his soda from the cupholder and sipping through the paper straw.

“Not even a little.” You laugh and he shares a smile with you because he gets it entirely. He’s lost count of the number of parties he’d attended before he turned CIA, where people would literally assault him with their theories. It’s a hazard when you’re law enforcement.

“I can’t even keep a plant alive let alone a relationship.” He confides in you, before gesturing between the two of you. “This is probably the best date I’ve had in years.”

“It’s in my top three.” You say with a humorous lilt. “Stuck together in a car, eating Chinese food while we wait for Sidorov to finish fucking his mistress. It’s dinner and entertainment.”

He laughs then, it’s a rich, warm sound that resonated through his body. It catches him off guard because for the first time in a while it’s genuine. He’s used to pandering to other people, making them feel comfortable, it’s part of his job. However, sitting here with you tonight, it’s the most real he’s been with another person in a long time.

“I guess the second date will have to make up for it.” He says, setting the takeout container on the dashboard before he wipes at his mouth with a napkin.

“Oh, you think there’s going to be a second date, do you?” You tease before setting your own little white box onto the panel so you can hunt down the carrier bag. He pulls it out with a flourish before holding it open for you. A clean stakeout space is a happy stakeout space. He waits for you to deposit the trash before he fastens the bag, and he tosses it in the back seat before he turns his attention back to you.

You’re an attractive woman, he thought that the first time he met you but it’s more than that. There’s a connection between the two of you, an undertone of something. He finds himself slipping back to the person he used to be, the man beneath all the identities. He hasn’t been that person in a very long time.

“I’m kind of liking the vibe we have, aren’t you?” He says dipping his head so that he can meet your eyes. “And I can promise you that I don’t have a murder board at home, that’s strictly for office use only.”

“You’re serious?” You ask him and he smiles.

It’s his real smile, the one that no one else gets to see. You can tell because his eyes crinkle at the edges.

“Yea.” He says quietly as he leans in a little, his gaze lowering to your lips. “There’s an Italian place not far from the Boatshed. A little dinner, a little wine, we can get to know each other better.”

“You can tell me about your true crime podcasts.” You murmur as he reaches out, his thumb ghosting over the apple of your cheek. The scent of his aftershave floods your senses, something woody with a citrus undertone. His nose trails along the length of yours and you tilt your chin up so that your mouth brush over his.

You’re surprised by how soft his lips are, how tender he is with his kiss. His thumb chases along the line of your jaw and already you know you’re falling for him. And that’s ok, because he’s falling for you too.

“Sidorov’s on the move.” Sam’s voice comes across the radio. “Back exit.”

The two of you break apart reluctantly before pulling on your seatbelts.

“Tomorrow night.” He promises, his gaze focusing on the road ahead as he starts the engine of the car. “We’ll do it tomorrow night.”

***

The second date never happens.

Instead, the two of you end up sharing a cigarette outside of the Boatshed. He lost a friend today; a partner and you can see how much it devastates him. It’s in the way he pinches his brow when he strides outside to get some air, his hunched shoulders. He’s barely keeping his shit together.

“I have to go to Washington tonight.” He tells you wearily and you nod your understanding. You’d heard they were setting up a taskforce to bring down Sidorov, you know he has to be there. That even if it was a choice he’d still go. You didn’t like Synder, but he deserved better than being shot to death on a basketball court.

“Nik.” You say his name and his head inclines towards you.

Your fingertips brush over his cheek and he raises his hand, clasping your palm to his face. He closes his eyes for the briefest of moments, savouring your touch because he knows it’s the last time he’s going to feel it.

“I’m sorry we missed our moment.” He says, his lips brushing over the hollow of your wrist.

“Yea.” You whisper with a sad smile. “I am too.”

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StolenMoments!Series - Part Three: Yours - Vostanik Sabatino x Reader (NSFW)

Tagging: @kmc1989 @novamariestark @words-and-seeds

It’s in the late hours of the evening on Christmas Day that you make it back to base. You’ve been out in the wild since the early hours of the morning, meeting with community leaders from the villages you’d supported in the past, re-establishing connections. The reception is positive for the most part, you meet a few roadblocks but nothing that escalates to a point you can’t manage.

When you climb out the Hum-Vee you’re tired, aching and filthy. It’s been a while since you’ve carried this much equipment on your person, it’s something you’re still getting used to.

Sabatino’s in the kitchen when you step through the door. A heavenly scent assails you, your stomach rumbling as you strip off your equipment and jacket before hanging it in your cubby. The two of you have barely seen each other over the last few days, with your trips off site and his attempt at tracking a group of insurgents. You know he’s around though when his heated blanket appears folded neatly on your bunk after the generator goes out. The nights get cold here and your appreciative of the gesture.

“That smells amazing.” You tell him, shaking the sand out of your hair and he gives you that smile, the one that makes your heartbeat just a little faster in your chest.

“I’m more than just a pretty face.” He says as you step into the kitchen to survey his work. “It’ll be ready in thirty.”

“Just let me get washed up first then I’m all yours.” You say before disappearing into the bathroom.

All yours…

He has to admit, he likes the thought of it. The two of you never made that date in L.A but he’s hoping not to miss his moment here in Afghanistan.

He sets the battery powered camping light in the centre of the table before turning the mains off. It casts a pretty dulcet glow across the table, illuminating the space. The ‘plates’ you’re eating from are trays, the ‘turkey’ is actually bearded vulture and the wine is from a box someone bought over for New Years, but he’s done his best with the tools he has at hand.

When you step out of the bathroom, he still thinks you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. You’re clad in leggings and an oversized jumper with thick woollen socks pulled over your feet. Your damp hair falls loose across your features.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” You tell him, gesturing at the meal as you take the seat across from him.

“Nah. Just a man trying to impress the girl he likes.” He says, a small smile playing across his lips.

The conversation flows from there. You learn that his mother was Armenian, she met his Italian father as a student in the US. They both loved to cook, a trait that was passed down to their son. At weekends his father would take him camping, teach him how to live off the land, skills he’s utilises throughout his career, although he prefers the comforts of an urban landscape these days.

“Nothing beats a hot shower and a comfortable bed.” He tells you.

In turn he learns that you enlisted in the Army straight out of high school as a way to pay for college. You have a degree in criminal justice and became a member of the military police, serving two tours in Afghanistan before you put in your papers and began working in humanitarian services.

“A lot of the people I met with today are girls I’ve helped over the years, women who’ve stepped into the role of community leaders.” You confide in him, sipping from a beaker filled with wine. “Some were child brides, others trafficked, or dishonoured. I was part of a network that rescued girls from abusive situations, educated them, gave them prospects.”

It’s the first inkling he has that the work you had done with the villages in the region was actually clandestine. They’re relocation spots he realises, homes for people who couldn’t return to their families for fear of being killed or punished. He understands now why it had to be you that came to Afghanistan, the unique position you were in to help.

“You saved them, so they trust you.” He remarks quietly as the pieces fall into place.

“It’s more than that.” You say with a sad smile. “I saw some horrific shit as an MP, the stuff some of our soldiers got away...”

You trail off with a bitter taste in your mouth. He knows what you’re talking about. Out here it’s lawless, and if you’re of the right disposition it’s an excellent hunting ground for the weak and the vulnerable.

“I got a rep for taking on those cases, the ones where civilians accused our guys. They started to see me as someone who would hold others accountable.” You say leaning back in your chair, cradling the glass of wine to your chest. “It was recommended that I didn’t reenlist when the time came, that it would be bad for my health.”

It’s a thinly veiled threat, one that tastes of violence, and it infuriates him because you shouldn’t have had to give up a job that was worth doing in order to protect yourself from the very organisation you were policing.

He’s still thinking about it when he walks you to your room that night. How brave you were taking those men to task for their crimes, for stepping into a role that put a target on your back. He knows there’s more you’re not telling him, that when you’re ready you’ll disclose the rest of it. He can wait, he isn’t going anywhere.

He intends to say goodnight, to go back to his bunk, listen to a true crime podcast the same way he has all other nights however there’s a look in your eyes as you linger in the doorway.

When you kiss him, it’s nothing more than a light brush of the lips but it ignites something inside of him. His thumb chases along the line of your jaw, his palm coming to rest on the nape of your neck.

“Take me to bed Nik.” You whisper against his lips, and he smiles as he closes the door behind him.

He makes love to you on the floor of your bunkroom, the blankets from the other rigs laid out across the ground, cushioning it. Each bunk is single person, meant to discourage fraternization and Sabatino he likes to have space to work. He takes his time with you, stealing greedy kisses from your mouth as he undresses you slowly, removing each layer as if he’s carefully unwrapping a gift.

That’s how he sees you, something precious, to be cared for, revered. His lips chase over your skin, mapping out all of those sensual little areas, the ones that make you say his name. He commits each and every one of them to memory.

God, the noises you make, it’s enough to drive any man to madness.

You taste like God damn sunshine when he gets his mouth on you. He licks up that sweet honey like it’s a feast, his tongue tracing over your clit before he thrusts his tongue into your needy cunt making your hips arch and you head tip back into the pillow.

You look so fucking beautiful when you come, that pretty pink flush creeping across your skin in the throes of rapture. He kisses his way back up your body, his skilled palms caressing your curves as he slots between your legs. The tip of his cock brushes over wetness, smearing the head of it with your slick. He positions himself, right there at your entrance waiting.

If you want him, you have him, but he's got to hear it before he takes this any further.

“Nik, please.” You whisper against his lips. “I need you.”

It’s been along time since anyone has said those words to him.

He sinks into you slowly, his mouth covering yours, stifling that gorgeous little moan as he fills you completely. Christ, he almost loses his fucking mind because this, it’s absolutely perfect, you are absolutely perfect. Your thighs tighten around his hips as he moves in long, punctuated thrusts that rake over that deviant little spot inside of you, the one that has you keening for him. His fingers entwine with yours and your breathing hitches just a little because the intimacy of that, it heightens everything.

It's never been like this for him, he’s never felt so connected to another human being. You bite his lower lip when you come, and he fucking loses it. You grip him like you were made for him, wringing the ecstasy right out of his body as he spills his release inside of you. Still, he isn’t satisfied, he fucks it deeper because he’s a territorial son of a bitch, and you need to know you’re his.

You kiss him in that moment, moaning into his mouth and he realises you need it just as much as he does.

“Oh, you like that.” He whispers, his thumb ghosting over the curve of your cheek as he looks into your eyes.

“I do.” You tells him, your fingertips trailing along the scars that line his back. “It makes me feel like I’m yours.”

“You are mine.” He says resolutely, his lips brushing over yours. “It doesn’t matter where in the world we are; you’ll always be mine.”

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StolenMoments!Series Part Six: Love Letters - Vostanik Sabatino x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @novamariestark @words-and-seeds

Part One: First Date - You and Nik have an unusual first date.

Part Two: Christmas in Afganistan - You and Nik reunite in Afganistan.

Part Three: Yours (NSFW) - Nik and you take the next step in your relationship.

Part Four: Last Words - Nik goes on the hunt after you're taken.

Part Five: Gone - Sam tells you what Nik was saying in the back of the chopper.

It’s a month later that Sabatino finds your letter.

He’s recuperating in a safehouse in Berlin, close to one of the best hospitals in the country because the initial surgery in Afghanistan came with complications and he needs to rehab. The CIA wants him back to full strength as soon as possible because he’d left a few loose ends after he’d taken that bullet. It’s only the best for their favourite operative until he gets back on his feet. He’s under no illusions about the reality of his situation, he’s an asset as well as a prisoner. His vulnerability makes him a liability, one that they can’t afford to let out of their sight.

At night he lies in bed and thinks of the events that led him here. He remembers your grip on his hand in the back of the chopper, looking into your eyes as he told you he loved you. It was the end; he was sure of it…

And then he’d woken up in one of the most prestigious hospitals in Germany, alone with a guard outside of the door. He cannot describe how disorientating it is to wake up in another country, to lose days to a morphine induced haze that fucked with you so badly, you didn’t know what was real and what wasn’t.

He’d thought about you in his more lucid periods. That smile of yours, the way you bury your face into the curve of his throat as you drift into sleep. He reached for you in his less coherent moments only to find you absent.

That’s worse than the injury itself because it reminds him that he’s alone. You would have returned to L.A. by now, reintegrated back into your life. He knows your team; he trusts them to take care of you, but he wishes he was there because recovering from something like that…

He knows what it’s like.

This thing between the two of you, it means the world to him, but he’s concerned about the damage he’s done. For three months he has been a constant presence in your life and now he’s disappeared when you need him the most. That’s got to hurt.

Maybe it’s for the best. The truth is he doesn’t have anything to give you, his life isn’t his own, it belongs to The Agency. He’s not someone you can build a future with, he’s more likely to end up dead than settle down. Perhaps it’s kinder this way.

When his duffle bag appears he’s grateful because it means he doesn’t have to replace a bunch of his shit. He lives a transient life style but he has a few creature comforts that he prefers to have on hand. He’s looking for the shaving kit, the good one, when he comes across the heated blanket neatly tucked in the top. Part of him dies inside because he thinks that by returning it you’re telling him it’s over, that you don’t want this life with him.  It’s only when he’s packing it away again that the envelope slips out. He sees his name written in your familiar neat scrawl and his thumb chases over the ink.

Nik.

You are the only one that calls him that, to everyone else he’s Sabatino.

This is how it ends, he thinks, not with an argument or a fight but with a letter. He almost doesn’t want to open it, but he does because Sabatino has never shied away from a difficult situation.

When he opens the note, it’s written in Pashto. He has a head for languages, he always has, it’s one of the reasons the CIA recruited him. He remembers the evenings back in Afghanistan you’d spent huddled together over a portable white board while he helped you refresh yourself on the language. You were a little rusty looking to brush up on it, because it had been years since you’d had the opportunity to use it.

He smiles as he reads it, his fingertips tracing over the words.

I love you too.

Love Nik? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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Hi. This is an ask for Vostanik Sabatino ❤️ again. The prompt is: 65. You taught me some lessons, those are my blessings. Thank you so much.

References to future series: The 3 Times Sabatino Tried to Propose and the 1 Time He Did

Nik had never realised how closed off he’d been. Not until he met you. He’d put on a good front, the Sabatino persona you’d call it, but he hadn’t let anyone get to know him on any in-depth level.

Not until the evening he found himself sitting in a car with you during a stakeout shooting the shit. He’d never told anyone about his fascination with true crime podcasts, the fact he got hooked after Serial and then tumbled down a rabbit hole. He liked investigating along with the narrator, hearing the story unfold.

That’s the night he remembers how to laugh again, how to share a part of himself with someone else. His job has made him guarded, mistrustful. He has no family left; his friends fell away because he was barely in the country and his colleagues…

The less they know about him the better.

It isn’t until he’s in his hotel room in Washington after Synder’s death that he realises just how disappointed he is to miss that second date with you. When he reflects on the past few years, and he realises just how lonely his existence has become.

It’s in Afghanistan that he learns to love again. You teach him that he’s worthy of affection, that he deserves to be looked after, cared for. With you he becomes Nik again, the man that enjoys singing rock music when he cooks and books that challenge his thinking. It’s during those months that he learns that there’s room for more than just Sabatino, there’s space for Nik too.

Now as he sits in Deek’s bar, sipping a beer and watching your fingers play along the buttons of the jukebox he can’t believe just how far he’s come. These days he has a job he loves on US soil, friends that he trusts with his life. He’s singing again, playing gigs in Hollywood, recording with his band. He’s built a life that he never would have dreamed of and he knows that it’s because of you.

@kmc1989 @thiashazzywriting @words-and-seeds

#ncis los angeles #vostanik sabatino #vostanik sabatino x reader #vostanik sabatino x you #nik sabatino #erik palladino #nik sabatino x you #nik sabatino x reader #sabatino x you #sabatino x reader #ncis la #sabatino

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StolenMoments!Series Part Two: Christmas in Afganistan - Vostanik Sabatino x Reader

Tagging:  @kmc1989 @novamariestark @words-and-seeds

Part One: First Date

You end up in Afghanistan over Christmas.

You’ve been embedded in the country for over a week now, using your contacts to track down a terrorist cell with ties to an attack back in LA. In the past you’d worked with humanitarian groups, delivering a very specific form of aid to villages in the region. You’d built a lot of trust amongst the natives; it gave you access to information that the military personnel you worked with couldn’t get their hands on.

You’ve been living in a makeshift base, created especially for the task force that you’re a part of. On the outside it looks rundown and ramshackle however inside it’s the equivalent of huge modern-day motorhome, with up-to-date tech, hot running water and internet speeds that rivalled the ones back home.

The place had been haphazardly decorated for the Christmas season before you got here, there’s tinsel around the whiteboards, fake candy canes hanging on the equipment lockers and a makeshift tree has been put together in the corner by a would-be carpenter. Someone’s managed to dig out some multicoloured lights, wrapping them around it. It’s magical in its own way.

You’re the only one staying over the holidays, Granger has sent the other members of the taskforce to Istanbul for some R&R. You’re the last one in, so you get to man the fort in their absence. You’ve been on your own for a couple of hours, reviewing the latest intel and making notes when the door opens and Sabatino steps inside.

You haven’t heard from him since the night he left for Washington. He looks a little more rugged than the last time you saw him. His jaw is lined with stubble, his face more weathered. His clothes are filthy, the remnants of the Afghan desert clinging to his hair and skin. The expression on handsome features tells you he’s just as surprised to see you as you are to see him.

“I need a shower.” Is the first thing he says to you. You smile as you take a sip from your coffee cup because you detected just the hint of a blush across his cheeks when he stepped past you.

You have more coffee brewing when he steps out of the bathroom. He’s wearing a t-shirt and combat pants, his hair still damp from the hot water. He tosses his dirty clothes into the laundry hamper in his bunk room before he follows you into the kitchen space, opening the fridge and pulling out a variation of food.

“I’ve been living off the land for the past three weeks, tracking our targets through the mountains.” He explains as he opens a container and pops some veggies into his mouth. “If I have to eat another rodent, I think I’ll become one.”

You push the mug of hot coffee towards him, and he picks it up gratefully, his dark eyes fastening on yours as he takes a sip.

“When they said they were bringing in someone with local connections I had no idea it was you.”

There’s something in the way he says it, an undertone in his voice. You read the tension in his body, the way his shoulders hunch just a little as he averts his gaze focusing on the containers.

“You don’t want me here.” You realise.

He sighs before he places both his palms on the work surface and tilts his head up to look at you. There’s a torridness in his eyes, it builds like a storm before he finally allows himself to speak.

“The last guy who had your job, I found his body.” He pauses for a second, allowing you to process that information before he continues. “What I didn’t find was his head.”

 “He was tortured.” You conclude and Sabatino nods his response.

“I don’t want that to happen to someone that I…” He catches himself before the words can slip out of his mouth. “I don’t want the same thing happening to you.”

It’s an admission of something that the two of you can’t talk about. Realistically he’s known you for a total of seventy-two hours but in his heart, it feels like a lifetime. If something were to happen to you, if he found you brutalised the same way that Sanders was, he doesn’t think that he would be able to recover.

“Are the risks any different than you going out there and tracking them over the mountains?” You ask him pointedly.

He hates this and so do you, you’ve worked with each other in an urban setting before, where you have resources and back up, but Afghanistan is a different playing field. The thing is you’ve both been here before, you know the pitfalls, the dangers, the consequences. You’ve survived Afghanistan before and so has he.

“It looks like we’re both in the same predicament.” You say when he doesn’t respond, setting your coffee mug down. “Because I actually give a shit about you too.”

It shouldn’t warm his heart but it kind of does. He sees the honesty of it in your eyes as you look up at him. He lives in a world of deceit, where everything has a double meaning, where every move is a manipulation and then there’s you. This beautiful, spirited woman who says what’s on her mind and means it. He can’t help but fall in love with you just a little more in that moment.

“Hey.” He says quietly as he reaches for you. He wraps his arms around your body, drawing you close. You fit against him perfectly, the same way you did the last time, when he kissed you during that stakeout. “Despite the circumstances I am happy to see you.”

Your palms chase up the muscles of his back, soothing over the fabric of his shirt as his lips brush over your hairline. Christ he’s missed you, he’s forgotten how good it feels to have your hands on him.

“I’m glad to see you too Nik.”

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3 Times Sabatino Thought About Proposing and the 1 Time He Did - Part Two: Sassy - Vostanik Sabatino x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @words-and-seeds @novamariestark @thiashazzywriting @whateversomethingbruh @trublu2u @stelacole

3 Times Sabatino Thought About Proposing and the 1 Time He Did:

Part One: Adjustment Period - Nik decides it's time to propose.

Sabatino’s going to propose tonight.

He’s ready, he thinks you’re ready.

You’ve been happier since he quit the CIA. He thought the transition period would be a little more awkward, that you’d fight over stuff like emptying the dishwasher, but you don’t. That’s all-petty shit compared to what the two of you have been through.

You’d been ecstatic when he suggested dinner at Elixir, it’s been on your radar since you saw the reviews in the LA Times a couple of months ago. It had been impossible to get a reservation, until Fatima had pulled some strings. She’d made arrangements with the manager for some private time on the rooftop terrace, they’re going to set up some champagne, add a few touches to make it special. Sabatino owes that woman big time.

It feels like the stars have aligned, because everything is going perfectly. The weather is balmy, the sky is clear. Somehow the two of you are both home at a reasonable hour which almost never happens in your line of work, giving you plenty of time to get ready.

He’s pulled out his best suit for the occasion, it’s blue with tailored fit, he wears a crisp white shirt underneath. He doesn’t get much opportunity to wear a suit anymore now that he’s with the US Marshalls, he’s missed it. He catches a glance of himself in the mirror in the living room, smoothing his palm over his hair once more. He’s feeling good about tonight, he looks good. His hand drifts to his left interior pocket, checking for the ring. It’s the millionth time he’s done this in the past hour, and it still resides in the same place.

When you step out of the bedroom, he thinks he could just marry you there and then. You’re wearing a black, off the shoulder dress that clings to your form like it was made for you. You’ve always been beautiful but this, this is next level.

“You’re stunning,” He tells you, the edges of his mouth twitching up into a smile. His hands come to rest on your hips, his thumbs chasing over the line of your panties through the fabric as his lips brush over the curve of your jaw. “So gorgeous, I’m not sure we’re gonna make it out of the house.”

You laugh as your fingers lace at the back of his neck. The scent of your perfume floods him, it’s new something a little darker, a little sexier. You really are pulling out all the stops tonight.

“Wait until you see what I’m wearing underneath.” You whisper, your breath ghosting in his ear. It sends a thrill chasing through his nerve endings. It’s an exhilarating feeling to be desired by you and he treasures that sensation.  

“How about a sneak peek?” He asks you, his voice husky before he holds up his fingers to indicate the measurement. “Just a little one.”

“Nik…”

He fucking loves the way you say his name, when you get back home, he’s going to spend the entire night making you say it.

When the doorbell rings he wants to ignore it but then there’s the knocking. The rapid, incessive raps that he knows can only belong to one person.

No, he pleads, not tonight.

Any other time, just not tonight.

As soon as you open the door, he knows his night is over.

Your younger sister Sassy stands on the doorstep with a Louis Vuitton overnight bag slung over her shoulder and mascara running down her cheeks. Your sister is an adult version of a Valley Girl, selfish and over the top. It’s going to be one of those nights he can tell.  

The thing about Sassy, she’s a hot mess. She hasn’t met a wellness craze or a man who earns more than six figures she doesn’t like. She switches careers more than she hops fiancés, which by his reckoning must be coming up to double figures soon. The other thing is she’s also the only family you have in this world so when she’s in ‘crisis’ you drop everything.

Sabatino sighs before stripping off his suit jacket and folding it over the back of the couch. He undoes the cuffs of his shirt before rolling his sleeves up towards his elbows. He knows you’re not making that reservation; he also knows you skipped lunch in anticipation of tonight, so he busies himself in the kitchen. He makes linguini alfredo while he listens with half an ear to Sassy as she tells a story he’s heard a thousand times before.

She was engaged to Anton, who caught her in an intimate embrace with Tobias, now he’s broken off the engagement and she’s realised he was the only man she ever loved. She’d said the exact same thing about David and Juan before him. He gives it a week until she finds some other rich, young thing to torture.

It’s when you disappear into the bedroom to get changed out of your dress that something in his chest just sinks. He glances at the clock and sighs because that special moment he’d planned, it’s passed. Dinner and a rooftop proposal at Elixir was a one-time thing and now it’s been wasted.

“You’re usually a lot more vocal.” Sassy says as she picks up the half empty bottle of red wine and tops up her glass.

It’s the good wine of course, the one you usually buy for special occasions. She’d taken it out of the wine rack the second she’d step foot in the kitchen, helping herself.

“You don’t want my input.” He warns her as he takes two plates out of the cupboard and sets them down on the counter.

“That’s never stopped you before.” She points out before gesturing at the space between his brows. “You’re in a mood, you have that little crease you always get when you’re trying to bite your tongue.”

Despite the fact Sassy is a complete disaster in every aspect of her life, she’s emotionally intelligent. She reads body language like a pro, it’s the reason she’s managed to ensnare so many affluent men.

“We had plans tonight.” He says, tilting his head up to meet her gaze. “And as usual you bulldoze your way in here with your melodrama and theatrics. You don’t care about this guy, just like the fact you won’t care about the next one. You just like being the centre of attention and when you’re not getting it from them, you come running back here to get it to your sister. It’s the same thing everytime.”

“Oh Vostanik.” She tuts, his full name rolling off her lips harshly. “You haven’t been around long enough to judge the relationship I have with my sister.”

“Almost five years.” He informs her, his mouth setting into a grim line. “That’s how long I’ve been with Alana.”

“You were barely in her life for four of them.” She reminds him, swilling the wine glass in her hand. “She’s the girl you fucked when you came to LA, I’m sure you had one in every port, you private security guys always do.”

Private security was the cover story you both used to explain his absence in your life. He was away in foreign countries ‘consulting’. Sassy thought he’d been living it up with sheiks in Dubai instead of evading capture in Iran. She’s accused him before of fucking his way through continents. He’s denied it of course, but when that woman gets something in her head there’s no telling her otherwise.

“You do know the only reason she’s with you is out of obligation.” She tells him as she takes a sip from the wine glass. “My sister is extremely loyal, and I think if you hadn’t taken that bullet for her in Afghanistan then we wouldn’t even be here. She’d be happily married to a man who deserves her, instead of stagnating in a relationship that’s going nowhere.”

It's a slap in the face, one that hits him hard because he’s always had this doubt, this tiny insecurity that the reason you’re with him is because you feel indebted to him on some level. Sassy’s picked up on that, he realises. That’s what your sister does. She finds the weak spot and she pushes it and pushes it until it gives.

Every single part of him wants to kick her out, to tell her he’s sick of all the drama, that she needs to grow the fuck up and take a long, hard look at her life choices. The only reason he doesn’t is because the only person it’ll be hurting is you and he would do anything to prevent that.

You step out of the bedroom just as he snatches up his jacket from the coat hooks. You’ve changed into one of his old band t-shirts and leggings, a pair of his socks are pulled up over the calves. His heart warms at the sight of you because no matter what Sassy says, it’s these moments that mean the world to him.

“I’ve made dinner.” He tells you, tipping your chin up so you can look into his eyes. He hopes you see the love there, that he’s not running from you right now but from the situation because he knows if he sticks around, he’s going to say something he regrets. “I’m gonna go out for a while, catch up with Deeks, give the two of you a little space.”

He sees the slight furrow in your brow, you know that something’s happened, but he can’t bring himself to explain it, not with Sassy still sitting there watching the exchange over the rim of her wine glass.

“I love you.” He says as his lips brushing over yours tenderly. He’s not ashamed to say it or to show it. He doesn’t give a shit if Sassy believes him or not, all that matters is that you do. You smile as he pulls away and he knows he has nothing to worry about, that Sassy’s just yanking his chain the same way as always. “I’ll see you in a bit.”

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Hiya 🫣 I have an ask for Nik Sabatino ❤️ The prompt is: #16 “Well we know I’m going away And how I wish - I wish it weren’t so.” Thank you so much.

Companion piece to Burn and Calling Card

References to upcoming Choices!Series

Nik hates this. He hates the fact you’ve been sleeping in the Boatshed, that you’re living out of shopping bags, that everything you own can be packed into the leather brown satchel you were carrying when the house exploded.

The two of you are sitting on the pier outside watching the sun rise in the distance. Your legs hang over the edge of the wooden ledge as you listen to the waves crash against the stilts below. Nik’s arm is wrapped around your shoulders, his face buried in your hair as he clasps you close. The scent of smoke still clings to your skin despite the fact you’ve showered and changed your clothes. It’s a reminder of how close he came to losing you tonight, how his actions had impacted your life as well as his.

“Nik…” You say and he knows what’s coming.

The reason you’re sitting on the dock is because Sam is on his way with the boat. He’s going to take you up the coast under the radar, all the way to Portland. A Navy SEAL friend of his has a cabin off the grid. Sam’s going to stay with you, protect you if it comes down it. Nik just hopes that it’s enough. Ferris is known for being relentless when he’s in pursuit of a target, it’s one of the things that made him such a good operative. The same could be said about Nik.

He thought he was done being Sabatino but he was wrong. He needs that version of himself, the ruthlessness of the persona, the ferocity. He’s going to hunt Ferris down like a fucking dog and then he’s going to kill him.

“Nik, I don’t want to go.” You tell him, tipping your chin up towards him. “I don’t want to leave you here, dealing with this alone…”

“I know.” He whispers, his thumb chasing along the line of your jaw. “But Alana, I need you to do this for me ok? I need to know you’re safe.”

“Nik…” You begin again but he shushes you, cradling your face between both of his hands as he looks into your eyes.

“Alana.” He says firmly. “You are the most precious thing in the world to me. If anything happened to you I would never be able to forgive myself…”

If you disappeared from this world, he wouldn’t be far behind. He’d stick around long enough to wreak havoc on the people responsible but a life without you…

It wouldn’t be worth living.

“The last thing I want is to be away from you, especially after so much time apart.” He tells you, his gravelly voice lowering an octave as he guides your palm to where his heart beats in his chest.  “I need you to promise me that when that boat comes you’re going to get on it and go with Sam. Promise me alright? Promise that you’ll do this for me.”

“Nik…” You implore.

He hears your voice break and something inside of him cracks. He’d spent six months living in purgatory, training his replacement. He’d had no contact with you throughout that time, no phone calls, no texts, just the belief he held in his heart that he was working towards a brighter future, one filled with love, happiness. He’d promised you a life when he left the CIA, one where the two of you could be together and now he’s driving you apart. Again.

“Alana, please…” He begs, his voice rough with emotion. “I can’t lose you. I just can’t…”

His forehead comes to rest upon yours, his eyes stinging as his lips brush over the corner of your mouth. There’s an agony in his chest, every breath feels like he’s being stabbed in the heart, the jagged blade ripping through the intricate vessels until he bleeds out into the depths of his chest.

You see it, he knows you do. He’s never been able to hide anything from you, no matter how much he may try. He hears your exhale of resignation, feels the fight ebb out of your body and he knows he’s won.

“Alright Nik.” You say softly, your fingertips trailing over his cheek. “Alright, I’ll go.”

@kmc1989 @words-and-seeds @novamariestark @whateversomethingbruh

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🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹

Because it's you I will give you two!

Nik doesn’t know about the letters from Kessler, not until he accidently opens one of them because he’s been up most of the night, chasing a fugitive up and down the country and he’s dog tired.

At first he thinks its from an old boyfriend.

My angel, it reads, you have no idea how much I think about you.

He rubs his palm across his mouth as he reads the words written in another man’s hand. It’s a love letter, he thinks, something twisting in his chest. He’s reading a fucking love letter.

A Little Too Late - Vostanik Sabatino x Reader - Out 26th March

“We don’t have to talk about it.” Scott says quietly as he studies the skyline. “We can just sit here together until you’re ready to leave.”

He means the interview with Simon, the man you’ve been seeing over the last four months, the one who’d seduced you to gather intelligence. You’d watched through the window of the interrogation room as he’d told Scott all of the gory details. What you liked, how you liked it.

“It had been a long time for her, I could tell.” Simon had told him as he leaned over the table almost conspiratory, as if he was just having a conversation, one man to another. “There was a look in her eyes when she came, a release. She told me afterwards about her husband but I already knew, it was the reason I picked her.”

The First Man - Scott Forrester x Reader - Out 17th March

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3500 Follower Celebration: A Little Too Late - Vostanik Sabatino x Reader

Tagging: @thiashazzywriting @words-and-seeds @novamariestark @whateversomethingbruh @a-noni-love @reneejett4 @trublu2u @stelacole

Nik doesn’t know about the letters from Kessler, not until he accidently opens one of them because he’s been up most of the night, chasing a fugitive up and down the country and he’s dog tired.

At first he thinks its from an old boyfriend.

My angel, it reads, you have no idea how much I think about you.

He rubs his palm across his mouth as he reads the words written in another man’s hand. It’s a love letter, he thinks, something twisting in his chest. He’s reading a fucking love letter.

You don’t understand how disappointed I am that you married him.

Vostanik Sabatino…

Do you say his full name when he makes you come or do you call him Nik?

It’s only as he continues that the tone shifts. He feels his jaw clenching, the paper crumpling between his fingers as the words sink into his brain.

I am going to fuck you Alana. I’m going to hunt you down and I’m going to make him watch every filthy thing I do to you before I kill him.

It gets worse from there, he goes into detail, so much detail that Nik can see it playing out in his head like he’s watching a video. It makes his stomach churn and bile climbs up the back of his throat as he forces himself to continue.

It’s when he makes reference to the other letters, that Nik realises that you’ve been keeping secrets. This isn’t the first one Kessler has sent you, it’s just the first one Nik knows about.

He’s waiting for you when you come home, the rest of those letters spread out across the kitchen table. He’d found them tucked away in a shoebox stashed at the bottom the closet, they were wrapped in an elastic band, sorted in date order. He’s spent hours reading them, going over each and every awful thing that Kessler has written and the only thing that’s stopping him from heading upstate and murdering the other man is knowing that his incarceration is about to become a lot more uncomfortable. Nik’s made sure of that.

“You should have told me what going on.” He says, his voice rough as he pushes the latest depiction of Kessler’s nauseating fantasies towards you. “I would have put a stop to it the second I heard about it."

“That’s why I didn’t.” You tell him, your gaze coming to rest upon the letter. “I don’t want you to stop it, you saw what he wrote at the end about the girls, he’s giving me another lead…”

“Alana, he is lying to you.” Nik snaps, jabbing his finger at the letters. “He’s been manipulating you since this whole thing started.”

“Nik, if there is a chance…”

He can hear the desperation in your voice and he knows that’s what this all stems from. Kessler had been trafficking minors for years before you’d caught him, selling them on the darknet. That last shipment, you’d missed it by barely a couple of hours. Three tender age girls sold to men who would brutalise them the same way that Kessler had. That’s what this psychopath is holding over your head, the possibility of finding them, of rescuing them from their misery.

“Alana.” Nik says, his tone softening as he meets your gaze. “Those girls are gone, they were gone the minute Kessler delivered them. All of this is just a way of torturing you and you’re letting him…”

Nik’s voice breaks because this, this has been going on for months. He suddenly understands what the nightmares are about, the restlessness. He thought it would settle now that Kessler was in prison but now he knows you’ve been trading little pieces of yourself to a monster, feeding him, sustaining him.

“You need to let this go.” He tells you, swallowing hard against the ache in his chest. “He’s killing you Alana and you don’t even see it.”

“You can’t tell me what to do Nik.” You say quietly, your eyes lowering to the letters laid out across the table before you use your fingertips to shift them back into order.

“No, but I can hope you make the right decision, that you chose yourself over him.” He says as he picks up his jacket from the back of the chair and pulls it on over his shoulders. “I’m going to give you some time, take a beat,  but those letters, they need to be gone by the time I get back or I swear to God I will burn them myself. I won’t have him in our home Alana, he doesn’t get to have that.”

***

It’s a couple of hours later that Nik returns, he lets himself in quietly, toeing off his boots by the door before he hangs his jacket up on the coatrack. He’d gone to the studio tonight, taken up one of the private booths. His throat is raw from the singing, his fingertips tender from playing guitar.

You’re standing in front of the sink when he steps into the kitchen, the scent of smoke fills his nostrils and he watches as you ignite the final letter with the lighter you use for candles before dropping it into the basin.

“You were right.” You tell him as you watch it burn amongst the ashes of all the others. “He got in my head, he’s been living there rent free ever since the first one came and I let him…”

“It’s more complicated than that.” Nik whispers as he comes to stand beside you. His lips brush over your temple as his palm comes to rest on the nape of your neck, his thumb rubbing soothing circles that tense spot. “He weaponised your guilt.”

“I failed them.” You say and he can hear the agony in your voice, the devastation.

You’re crying when he wraps his arms around you, tears leaking down your cheeks. They soak through his shirt as he cradles you close.

“No.” Nik says resolutely. “You didn’t fail them, you did everything you could. Sometimes, sometimes we just get there a little too late.”

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Choices!Series Part Two: Compromise - Vostanik Sabatino x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @novamariestark @words-and-seeds @thiashazzywriting @whateversomethingbruh @a-noni-love @reneejett4

Choices!Series

Part One: Diamonds - An undercover op makes Nik ask a question.

You’ve forgotten how good Sabatino is at playing a role. Tonight he's the rich, doting husband. Possessive over his woman, willing to give her whatever she desires. His thumb chases across your lower back, tracing over your bare skin and it sends a flush of heat chasing through your body. It’s an intimate gesture, one that makes it very clear to everyone else in the room exactly who you belong to.

You lose him in the raid, one minute he’s beside you, securing the suspect and the next both him and the painting have vanished. You wish you could have expected something different. It’s not the first time he’s pulled something like this. You guess the painting will go back into circulation; GPS tagged so they can track the next round of terrorist funding.  

When you return to the office you find the matching wedding band that he was wearing, sitting upon your desk.

You know you won’t be seeing him tonight, that he needs the space to lick his wounds.

As you study the platinum ring between your fingers you wonder if this is the choice that Sam was talking about.

“There comes a time when you just can’t bend any further, there’s no more flexibility. You and Sabatino are going to get to that point and when you do one of you will have to make a decision. It’ll be make or break.”

You’re there right now, you can feel it in your heart. Marriage is the one thing that you can’t compromise on and now he knows it.

***

Sabatino goes back to his hotel room that night, the one the CIA hire out for him whenever he’s in LA. He hasn’t told them that the two of you are living together, they don’t even know that he’s in a relationship because if they did, you’d be seen as leverage.

He lies down on the bed, still clad in his suit and he thinks about that moment, the one when he slipped the ring onto your finger. He didn’t realise how much he wanted it until then, how much it meant to him.

If he does this, if he choses a future with you then he has to be done with the CIA and that comes with stipulations, ones that he has to fulfil if he wants them to cut him loose.

“I think your job allows you to have one foot out the door.” You had told him.

He understands that’s what it must look like to you, that he’d not entirely invested, that he’s always ready to leave but the truth is he’s scared. He knows his value as an operative, that The Agency won’t want to release him. He’s terrified of what they might do if they find out that you’re the reason he’s putting in his papers.

His thumb plays over the empty space on his ring finger, the one where up until a few hours ago a platinum wedding band resided. He’d liked the feel of it, of belonging to you, of other people knowing that. You were right when you said there’s a security in being married.

The problem is the stability. He wants to be around more, to be involved in your life but his job prevents that. You can go months at a time without seeing each other, barely communicating if he’s in deep cover.

He wants to be there in your day to day, to hold your hand on the way to brunch, to get up at crazy o’clock to go running, to cuddle up on the couch scaring yourselves silly on the latest Netflix documentary. He wants a life with you, a whole one, not the one he’s been living for the past four years.

There’s only one person who knows what he’s going through, who can shed some light on his next steps and that’s Michelle Hanna. He resolves to visit her the next morning.

Maybe between the two of them they can figure something out.

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Walk The Line: Vostanik Sabatino x Reader

Tagging: @thiashazzywriting @words-and-seeds @novamariestark @whateversomethingbruh @a-noni-love @reneejett4 @trublu2u @stelacole @kmc1989

There’s a line that Nik walks, between being both disposable and indispensable to The Agency.

The CIA, they can’t let him go. He does too much, knows too much however if he were to die in another country whilst on the job they wouldn’t spare a second thought. They’d simply leave his body to rot. There would be no funeral, no notifications, he would simply just disappear.

He thinks about that as he lies beside you, listening to the sound of your breathing in the dark. He’d had a close call back in Syria, he’s still trying to heal from it. He knows now what an electrical burn looks like, how it still stays singed and black even after it transforms into a scar. It’s just another mark on the landscape of his body, one that you’ve kissed when you undressed him tonight. He hasn’t told you what happened but you know it was bad, you could tell from his demeanour.

It had occurred to him as they increased the voltage, that he was going to die in that cave and the worst part of that isn’t the agony, Nik can cope with that, it’s the thought that you would never know. He wonders in that moment how long it would take for you to realise. The two of you can go for months without contact, it’s the nature of the job, the relationship. Would it take a year, maybe two?

It's that thought that leads him to make the video.

It’s one of the hardest things he’s ever had to do.

He tells you that he loves you, that he’s always going to love you and that he’s sorry he couldn’t find his way back to you. At the end he tells you to move on, that you deserve to be happy, he doesn’t want you clinging to his memory.

He makes another video after that, this time just for Deeks.

“Please Deeks,” He says, his voice uncharacteristically rough. “Please man, just take care of her.”

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Hi. This is an ask for Vostanik Sabatino ❤️ again. The prompt is: 75. I play my enemies like a game of chess. Thank you so much.

Companion piece to Burn

References to upcoming fic 'Fair'

Nik knows that it was Ferris that tried to kill you, he finds his calling card tucked under the windscreen wiper of your car in the aftermath of the explosion.

 A black scythe on a cream background.

You took my queen, he’s written in block in capitals. So I took yours.

It’s a reference to that last mission in Iran, the one where Ferris and Foster had snatched him off the street and shoved him onto a plane. He’d heard the rumours about Ferris long before working with him. He wasn’t right in the head, he enjoyed the killing a little too much. Then there was the girls, the ones that disappeared. They were usually local, from the region, their bodies turning up a few days later, violated and ravaged.

He hadn’t believed it until he’d seen it with his own eyes. Ferris had disappeared when he was supposed to be on surveillance, Nik thought he’d been made, tried to help. He will never forget what he stumbled on in that alley, the terrified look in that girl’s eyes. She couldn’t have been more then twelve and Ferris had a knife to her throat, his pants down by his ankles. Nik had intervened, it had gotten bloody, messy.

Ferris had managed to get away but Nik had burned his life to the fucking ground in the aftermath. There’d been an internal investigation, Ferris had been terminated with prejudice, he’d gone on the run, leading the CIA’s finest agents on a merry dance across the globe.

Now he’s in LA. Nik thanks Christ that he paid out for that additional security system before he’s shipped out because he knows that’s the only thing that’s stopped Ferris getting into the house while he was away. That man had a very specific method of punishment when it came to women and Nik has no doubt that that’s what he wanted Nik to find when he got home tonight. You’d fucked everything up when you decided to go out for that bottle of champagne. Ferris had had to fall back onto Plan B, Nik guessed that burning you alive was the next best thing.

Ferris won’t stop after this, not when he learns you’ve survived. Nik’s done the very thing he promised himself he wouldn’t, he’s put a target on your back and now somewhere out there on the streets of LA there’s a sadist waiting to collect.

@kmc1989 @words-and-seeds @novamariestark @whateversomethingbruh

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Choices!Series Part One: Diamonds Vostanik Sabatino x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @novamariestark @words-and-seeds @thiashazzywriting @whateversomethingbruh

It’s the undercover op that makes Sabatino ask the question. He’s back in LA on the trail of a stolen painting that’s being used as currency in exchange for nukes. It ties into a terrorist organisation he’s been hunting in Syria. NCIS have been working the case from the other end. It seems these days that your working lives seem to converge more often than not. He isn’t complaining, it means that he can be around a little more.

It becomes a joint op, the painting is being sold as part of an underground auction, you have connections to that world through an alias way back. The cover story you’d used to explain getting out of the game was that you’d gotten married, moved to New York.

It’s realistic enough. Sabatino has the accent and the attitude to pull it off. At heart he’s still a boy from Yonkers. The perfect man to play your husband.

It’s in wardrobe that he puts the rings on your finger. A platinum wedding band, and an engagement ring with a diamond the size of a moonrock. You’re playing the role of extravagant art dealer, everything about the two of you has to scream rich. It’s gaudy as fuck, he sees the face you pull, and he finds himself smiling. He knows you prefer silver, more meaningful pieces. Sapphires instead of diamonds.

“Would you do me the honour of being my fake wife?” He teases, clasping the delicate jewellery between his fingertips as he takes your hand. “We can share bullets, a pair of handcuffs.”

“When you put it like that how can I refuse?” You smile as he slides the ring onto your finger.

It’s when he looks up, his dark eyes meeting yours that he feels something shift. He has a glimpse into his future, the one he wants with you. He envisions marrying you, somewhere intimate, surrounded by the people that love you as much as he does.

“Do you…” He trails off looking down at the platanium wedding band, his thumb chasing over it lovingly. “Do you ever think about doing this for real?”

“Yea.” You say quietly and he detects the sadness in your voice.

His eyebrows furrow into a frown as he tilts his head up to meet your gaze, a questioning look in his eyes.

“Marriage takes commitment…” You tell him and it feels like you’ve punched him in the chest.

“You don’t think I’m committed to this?” He asks you, his voice lowering an octave, becoming more rough, more gravelly. “To us?”

“I think your job allows you to have one foot out the door. It’s been working for us the last few years but marriage…” You swallow hard against the ache in your chest as you force the words out. “For me it represents security, stability.”

“And you need that.” He says resolutely, pursing his lips together grimly before he pulls away, your hand slipping from his. He picks up the matching suit jacket from the hanger before he pulls it on over his shoulders. “I gotta go update my people.”

“Nik…” You say and he holds his hand up to wave you off.

“Don’t worry about it.” He tells you as he starts to walk away. “We had to get it out in the open at some point right?”

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Always: Vostanik Sabatino x Reader

Tagging: @thiashazzywriting @words-and-seeds @novamariestark @whateversomethingbruh @reneejett4 @trublu2u @stelacole @kmc1989

You love Nik Sabatino, you have since the moment he kissed you in a stakeout car on a dark LA night but your lover, he’s an asshole. You know it, he knows it. He teases you, telling you it’s part of the appeal and you don’t think he’s wrong. He’s the only man that’s ever been able to keep up with you, that’s given you a run for your money.

He’s fucked with your cases, disappeared on multiple occasions leaving nothing more than a set of handcuffs in his wake, his methods are beyond questionable. You find him absolutely infuriating. He’s also the most loyal, compassionate man you’ve ever met. He gives money to homeless vets he sees sitting on the streets. He cooks up a storm when he knows he’s going away, storing meals in the freezer because he wants to take care of you while he’s not there and that’s the only way he knows how.

That man of yours, he’s both maddening and exhilarating all at the same time

“What are you thinking about?” He asks you as he sets a mug of tea down on the patio table in front of you. He makes note of the weathering on the wrought iron and resolves to repaint it tomorrow.

“How much of an asshole you are.”

He throws back his head and laughs a before taking up residence on the bench alongside you. His firm body presses up against yours, his arm slung over your shoulders as he sips from his own mug staring out across the small yard. He’s spent most of the day redeveloping your garden, potting succulents, arranging them just so. The last time he was here, you’d mentioned putting a little more greenery out here, making it more of a sanctuary. It’s something you hadn’t managed to get around to in his absence so while you were at work, he’d undertaken the task.

The look on your face when you’d stepped outside had been worth the hours of hard labour. You had shown your appreciation in the shower, ruining him completely as the heated water soothed the ache from his muscles.

“Are we talking in general?” He teases you. “Or something more specific?”

“In general.” You inform him, hiding your smile as you sip your tea.

His fingertips trail along the line of your jaw, tilting your head so that he can capture your gaze. There’s so much love in him, you feel it everytime he looks at you. Everything else just falls away and there’s just this, a man who cares for his woman more than life itself.

“But you still love me right?”

He worries sometimes, that you’ll get tire of the antics, the games, the role he has to play. You’ll get sick of Sabatino and give up on Nik.

“Always.” You promise him, your thumb ghosting over the apple of his cheek. “I’ll aways love you Nik.”

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3 Times Sabatino Thought About Proposing and the 1 Time He Did - Part One: Adjustment Period - Vostanik Sabatino x Reader (feat: Marty Deeks)

Tagging: @kmc1989 @novamariestark @words-and-seeds @whateversomethingbruh @trublu2u @stelacole

Sabatino’s been home for almost eight months when he decides it’s time to pop the question, he’s been carrying the ring around with him for twice as long, ever since he’d seen it in a jewellers in Sri Lanka. Silver and sapphires had always been your favourite and when he’d laid eyes on it he had known it would be perfect for you.

It’s taken some time to adjust to life outside of the CIA. Working with the US Marshals is great, he actually loves the job, and the thing is he’s good at it. It isn’t tracking down terrorists in Afghanistan, but he sees the difference it makes on a grass roots level.

The thing he struggles with is the free time. On mission you’re alert, always in the midst of something. In LA his time is his own and he finds himself with an abundance of it.

“It’s normal.” Michelle tells him when they have breakfast together. “When you’re in the field, the adrenaline is constant, your senses heightened, waiting for the next thing, you’ve learned to live in that state of mind. Right now, you just need to take a breath and relax. Reconnect with who you were before all of this, create a new path.”

It’s easier said than done because Sabatino’s been part of the Agency since his early twenties, he was a different man back then. Now he’s seen too much shit, done too much shit.

The one thing that hasn’t changed is his love for music, he realises that as he strolls through Hollywood, his hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket. He can feel the creativity thrumming through him as he walks his old haunts, his fingers itching to play as he ticks off the places he’s gigged at.

When he finds himself standing outside his old recording studio, he’s surprised to see it’s still standing. He can’t help himself; he steps inside and it’s like a blast from the past, the sights, the sounds, even the smell. When he sees his ex-band mate Jimmy T behind the desk, it’s like a piece of him has come home because this man used to be his best friend back in the day and that bond, it’s still there even after all these years.

They catch up while Jimmy gives him the tour. He bought the place a decade ago when Alonso retired. He’s been putting out records ever since, upgrading the facilities. He runs programs for kids, teaching them how to make music and produce it.

“You’ve done wonders with the place.” He tells Jimmy, his fingertips playing across the buttons on the sound desk.

“I’ve got some time if you want to jam.” Jimmy says indicating to the instruments he’s set up for the session musicians.

He does have the time he realises, there’s nowhere else he needs to be. He isn’t waiting for a source to get back to him or tracking down a terrorist, there’s just him right there in there in the moment. For the first time he allows himself to exist in the present.

They spend the afternoon, playing their old songs, improvising new ones. It feels good to stretch those muscles again. When he leaves in the early hours of the evening, he feels revitalised, his throat raw from singing and the pads of his fingers tender from the guitar.

It becomes a regular thing and before he knows it, he’s gigging again a couple of times a month. He’s forgotten how good it feels to perform, the exhilaration of it. When he sees you in the crowd, he finds himself grinning because you gave him this, the courage to quit the CIA, the space to figure out who he is without it. He’s a musician at heart, he always has been.

He’s in the truck with Deeks working a joint case with NCIS, when the conversation turns to proposals. Deeks is filling him in on the wedding he missed last year during his time away, when Sabatino asks how he proposed. He’s been carrying the ring around a while now and he keeps getting that feeling, the one where he wakes up and looks over at you and thinks “I want to do this for the rest of my life.” He ends up showing it to Deeks and before he knows it the two of them are brainstorming proposal ideas.

“First date?” Deeks prompts, tearing open a pack of M&Ms and setting them down on the dashboard to share with the other man because as far as he’s concerned proposal planning requires snacks.

“Stake out during the Sidorov case.” Sabatino says, shaking his head. “We planned a second date for the next night but then Snyder was killed, and I had to go back to Washington... I thought we’d missed our moment.”

Deeks can understand that, it had been a turbulent time. Snyder’s death had impacted Sabatino more than he had let on at the time. The other man had lost a partner, he hasn’t had one since.

“First time?”

“Ah… Christmas Day in Afghanistan.” Sabatino says fondly, thinking back to the event. “Dinner was bearded vulture, and the wine was boxed. Sorta had to work with what I had.”

“Not something we want to emulate, got it.” Deeks says, ticking it off his mental checklist.  “First, I love you?”

“Choking on my blood in the back of that chopper.” Sabatino reminds him as opens the glove box in search of more snacks. “But it was in Armenian so I’m not sure it counts.”

“That’s what you were saying? I thought the gunshot had just messed up something in your brain.” Deeks utters as he pops an M&M into his mouth. “What about when she said I love you?”

“I was sequestered in a hospital in Germany, recovering from said gunshot wound." Sabatino informs the other man, pulling out a packet of Gummi Bears. “She wrote me a letter in Pasto and slipped it into my belongings.”

“You two are weirdly romantic, it’s an odd vibe but I’m kind of digging it.” Deeks says as he withdraws his phone from his pocket and begins to type. “I say we go for ambiance since all your special moments involve foreign countries and boxed wine. Fatima has a hook up at this sweet new place called Elixir, great food, very intimate. They have an amazing rooftop terrace, great for a lowkey, romantic proposal.”

He hands the phone to Sabatino, allowing the other man to review the images on their Instagram. He isn’t wrong, it’s an exclusive restaurant up in Beverly Hills, plush green plants, elegant lighting. It’s the exact type of place you love.

Sabatino smiles as he hands the phone back to Deeks.

“It’s perfect.”

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