#christian kane x reader

[myveryownfanfiction]

18+ MINORS AND THOSE WITHOUT AGE IN BIO DNI

request from @illiana-mystery

prompt from @knivesofdaudwill

prompt: moving around while kissing, stumbling over things, pushing each other back against the wall/onto the bed

earnings: swearing, mention of smut

Tags: @iobsessoverfictionalmen, @fangsandroses

Eliot pressed me against the wall, kissing me deeply and hands pressed tightly against my hips. I tangled my fingers in his hair. The door slammed closed next to us and Eliot reached out blindly to lock it.

“don’t need hardison or Parker walking in on us.” He breathed out. “They’ve caught us too many times.” I laughed and ran my fingers through his hair.

“El, kiss me.” I whispered, tugging on his hair to get his attention back to me. “I need it…we need it after that mission.” Eliot smiled softly at me and pulled me against him tightly.

“You know it.” Eliot whispered back. “Need to feel you. Need you like you wouldn’t imagine.” I nuzzled into his neck and kissed along the skin there. He groaned and lifted me up, waiting for me to wrap my legs around his waist before starting towards our bedroom.

“never want to do another mission like that again.” I breathed out as Eliot captured my lips in another kiss. He hummed in agreement, pausing briefly to press me against the bedroom door. I pushed on his shoulders to get him to move. Getting the hint, Eliot pulled away and walked over to the bed. We fell on it in a fit of giggles and Eliot cupped my cheeks to kiss me deeply before pulling away slightly to discard his shirt.

[petcr3]

Perchance to Dream | Eliot Spencer x Reader

summary: When Eliot’s partner doesn’t hear from him (or Hardison) during The Experimental Job, they get worried and contact the team. When the information they find doesn’t paint a pretty picture, Eliot and the reader have a somewhat emotional reunion.

word count: ~4.4k

warnings: frank discussion of sleep deprivation tor.ture, mentions of ptsd (though it is not explored in depth), mentions of medical abuse (insofar as it is depicted in the show)

a/n: i’m on my hurt/comfort shit again, but this time it’s eliot spencer flavored. very much had heal me by lady gaga on repeat in my head while writing this. funnily enough, also, eliot doesn’t mention the convo in this gif but it’s definitely on his mind, for what it’s worth.

You haven’t heard from Eliot in three days, and that spells trouble. 

There are jobs where it’s expected, where cell service is bad or the cover is too deep for him to reach you, but any time other than that, the rule is every three days. Eliot always makes sure to show some sign of life, even if it’s a one word text with the agreed-upon sign off. Barring that, he has Hardison contact you to reassure you he’s all right–– or at least that he will be.

You argue with him, sometimes, that as scary as it can be, not knowing where he is or what he’s doing–– it’s what you signed up for. Eliot always counters that you didn’t know at the outset, and that’s the problem. You didn’t know what the hell you were signing up for when you took the job at McRory’s, and you didn’t know who you were getting into bed with the first night he touched you. You don’t know about the cons until they’re over and you don’t know–– don’t really know–– that he’s coming home until he crosses the threshold into your apartment. 

Naturally, you have an answer for everything: that you may not have known Eliot’s past when you took him home, but you sure as hell knew the man. That you don’t need to know the details of every job because you know he and his friends are best at what they do. That you know he’ll always come home to you because he’d promised you that he would.

When you get on that particular jag, Eliot knows there’s no arguing with you, so he gives in. (Or, at least, he does his version of giving in, which consists of a sour expression and a minute or two of the silent treatment even though he’s inevitably got an arm draped around your shoulder or a hand on your knee.) For your part, you’ve learned to give him a little grace with regard to that particular insecurity. You may not agree with his idea that he’s bad news, but you can’t expect him to rid himself of it overnight. But you’re always firm: you’re with him because you want to be. Because you’ve heard the bad parts and weathered the difficulties and decided you’re all in.

Today, though, it’s particularly hard.

The fourth day is the wiggle room day. Often, if you haven’t heard from Eliot in this long, you check your phone at the end of a shift and find an apologetic text or a hasty voicemail from him or, if he’s really stretched thin, from the team’s resident hacker.

But today, for whatever reason, things at the pub are painfully slow and you’ve got little else to do but idly clean behind the bar and check your cell phone near-constantly. You’d sent the other bartender on shift home early and since it was a weekday, no one would be in the kitchen until four to start prepping for dinner. There’d been no sign of anyone, not Parker or Sophie or Hardison or even Nate, and you’d only had two customers all day, both regulars.

By a conservative estimate, you were checking your phone about three times a minute and eventually you decided you’d be of no use to anyone if your hands were shaking so bad you couldn’t pour a beer. With a flip of the sign so it read that you’d be back in twenty, you were on your way up to Nate’s apartment.

You weren’t a part of the team by any stretch of the imagination, but as the longest standing member of McRory’s staff you weren’t not a part of the team. There were certain things you were made privy to, partly because it made sense and partly because it was, frankly, too difficult to hide everything from you. With the pub acting as the de facto front offices of Leverage Inc, (as the team was still affectionately called in some circles) it makes sense to have someone behind the bar that’s a little higher up in the ranks. Sophie had trained you to become an excellent liar, Parker’s shown you a few emergency escape routes in case a job follows them home, Hardison taught you the ins and outs of the pub’s beefed up security system, and even before you started dating, Eliot had insisted on showing you some self defense, in case any criminals (not the fun kind) decided to show up.

But all that doesn’t quite extend to apartment access. You know Nate lives upstairs, and the other tenants have all come down for a drink at least once, so you’d long since figured out that the elusive Tom Baker listed in the directory was none other than your boss. Taking the elevator to the corresponding floor, you try not to storm down the hallway in abject panic. Once at the door, though, you can’t help but knock a little frantically. After a few seconds of nothing, you lift your hand again, only to be met with a somewhat bewildered looking Nate.

“What?” he asks, just this side of irritable, plucking his earbud out, “what’s going on, why aren’t you downstairs?” Over his shoulder, you can see Hardison, slumped forward over a desk, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. You ignore Nate, zeroing in on Hardison only to hear a murmured apology and something along the lines of I know this has gotta be hell for you, man, but you got this. You start forward, but Nate crowds you out of the doorway.

“Hardison,” he calls, glancing over his shoulder, and once he has the younger man’s attention, he mimes taking something out from his ear. Hardison blinks slowly at him, then straightens up, removing his earpiece once he sees you.

“Hardison, what the hell?” you cry, pushing past Nate, who lets out a blustery sigh. Hardison frowns at you, confused. “It’s been more than three days,” you continue, “and I haven’t heard a word from either of you!” The realization seems to come to him slowly, as if through a fog, and he sighs once it hits him. 

“Shit,” he hisses, eyes squeezing shut with frustration, “I knew I was forgetting something.” You look at him expectantly, leg jiggling anxiously in place. “Eliot’s fine,” he says, “job’s just running a little long. We got him undercover.”

“It’s gotta be hell for him?” you protest, throwing his own words back at him–– and feeling a little guilty for being demanding like this when Hardison is clearly exhausted. But you can’t help it; even in the worst of times, Eliot and Hardison are constantly trading jabs–– If the hacker is extending that much of an olive branch, it means they’re about to be on the ropes… if they aren’t already.

“He’s fine,” Nate says, a little more firmly than kindly, before Hardison has a chance to go on. “He’s just undercover doing a sleep study. You know how he is. Why don’t you go back downstairs, huh?” He fixes you with a look, and though it’s a little stern, you also get the sense that he’s pleading with you to get out of their hair.

“Just let me talk to him,” you try. Nate almost laughs.

“Listen,” he says, “that’s about the last thing Eliot needs right now.” As much as the sentiment irks you, you know Nate is right. If Eliot knows you’re worried about him, it’ll distract him from the con. “Let him focus on the job,” Nate appeals, as if he’s reading your mind. “The sooner we get done what we need to do, the sooner you get him back, all right?” After studying him for a few moments, you grit your jaw and give a curt nod. You start to leave, but you catch Hardison’s eye on your way out.

“I need another update tomorrow,” you say. “Please?” Hardison nods gravely.

“He’s all right,” he says, “you know I’d tell you if he wasn’t.” He holds your gaze for a moment, and for all the frustration you feel, you nod. Of all of them, you know Hardison will give you the truth.

Back downstairs, the kitchen crew has arrived and is getting set up for the dinner rush. It winds up being surprisingly busy, considering the slow morning, but you’re grateful for anything to keep your mind off of Eliot and whatever the hell it is that he’s dealing with.

The next day you’re on the closing shift. You receive a text from Hardison around noon telling you that Eliot is okay. You thank him profusely before getting started on the things you need to get done before work. Finally, around the time you have to leave for your shift, you’re starting to feel better. Maybe this job is a tougher one, but with communications smoothed out, you feel reassured. It won’t be the first time Eliot has come back to you a little worse for the wear. And if he’s actually doing a sleep study like Nate said, maybe he’ll find out a few useful tidbits of information. A happy accidental byproduct.

The day is actually going pretty well until you practically crash into Sophie on the sidewalk outside the pub.

“Oh, bloody Nora!” she cries, one hand pressed to her chest as you bend down to pick up your keys, similarly startled. When you straighten up, you can tell right away that something’s wrong. Sophie may be an expert grifter, but you’ve caught her unawares.

“Sophie?” you ask, “What’s going on?” She studies you for a moment, biting her lip, and eventually sighs.

“Now listen, I’ve got to go or the whole thing is blown, just–– they’re all safe now, Parker’s taking care of Hardison and Eliot’s out of the experiment, all we have to do is––”

“Experiment?”

“It’s… really, all things considered, it’s not that bad, it––”

“Sophie,” you cut her off again, “please just tell me.” She frowns.

“Eliot went undercover into a university experiment where they were…” she sighs, “they were running sleep deprivation torture on groups of homeless men.”

Your eyes widen and you swallow thickly. Eliot hasn’t told you everything about his time in the army–– in fact, you doubt he’s told you most of it–– but he’d told you about sleep deprivation torture. How he’d been on the giving and receiving end of it, how he wouldn’t wish it on anyone, how he only understood just how evil it was once he’d been through it himself. And now he’s going through it again.

You notice, distantly, that Sophie has taken hold of your arm.

“I need to go, or the whole job could fall apart.” She levels her gaze at you. “Listen to me,” she says seriously, “Eliot is okay. Hardison’s okay. We’ll all see you tonight.” And with that, she’s off, leaving you struck dumb in the street.

Everyone at McRory’s can tell you’re on edge. You deliver the wrong orders to the wrong guests, you pour pints that are all foam. The crowd tonight is mostly regulars, which you’d be grateful for if you weren’t so preoccupied. Your coworkers pick up some of the slack, knowing you must be worried about Eliot. They don’t know exactly what he does, and no one believes any of the lies he spouts–– you keep telling him to stick to one, but he only grins and shakes his head: now where’s the fun in that?–– but they’ve all been around long enough to have seen him coming in black and blue, cut up, or worse. There are all kinds of theories floating around about the team, though none come close to the reality–– or at the very least, those who have figured it out are smart enough to keep their mouths shut.

With your relationship with Eliot being pretty much an open secret among the staff, no one bats an eye when the team straggles in and you go flying into the hitter’s arms. “Eliot,” you say, breathless, “thank god.”

He receives you with a quiet grunt at the impact, and where he might normally be a little wary at such a public display of emotion, you feel him sigh, relaxing into your touch.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he murmurs against your hair.

“Hi baby,” you croak in reply, the sound muffled against his shoulder. Eliot presses a kiss to your temple and you force yourself to pull away and look at him. The others file past you, and you reach for Hardison with one hand, catching his arm. Eliot lets you out of his hold, and though you miss the contact, you’re stunned to see Hardison is more bruised and battered than Eliot. “Holy shit,” you mumble, “what happened to you?”

“Joined a frat,” he says with a tired smile. You frown, concern pulling at your features as you look him over. “Don’t worry,” he says, giving your hand a squeeze, “your boy and my girl got me all patched up. I’m good.” He winces. “Or I will be.” You nod, letting go of his hand.

“Thank you, Hardison,” you say, “Really.” He winks.

“Any time, chica. I’ll see you later, all right?”

“See you,” you reply, already seeking Eliot’s touch again before you’ve even turned back to look at him. He takes your hands and studies you.

“How’d you find out what was going on, hmm?” he asks gently, thumb running over your knuckles. “You never get this worried unless someone gets in touch.” You sigh and lean into him again.

“Well, when I didn’t hear from you or Hardison, I got worried. I stormed up to Nate’s apartment and then I ran into Sophie, and…” You shake your head. “I just had to know you were okay.” He nods, though the look in his eyes is a little far away.

“I’m okay,” he says, though his voice is a little rougher than usual. You frown.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He hesitates, like he’s about to say more. He takes your hands in his, looks down at them like they’ll do the work for him. After a moment, it comes. 

“Hey,” he says, “think you could, uh… take me home?” 

The question practically strikes you down where you stand. Instead of doing what you want to–– instead of wrapping him in your arms and marching him out to your car, you throw a nervous glance over your shoulder.

“I–– I’m on shift,” you offer hoarsely, but before you can manage an apology, your coworker Natalie (who has been standing a little closer to the proceedings than you may have liked) interrupts.

“Are you kidding me?” she quips, “Jake’s already on his way to cover you. Get the hell out of here.” Gratitude and relief flood your features all at once.

“Really?”

“I already clocked you out, like a minute ago, so. Go. Seriously.” You look back to Eliot, who has the decency to look a little sheepish, and then skitter over to the bar to wrap your friend in an awkward hug across the lacquered wood.

“Thank you, Natty. I owe you one.” She waves you off.

“Oh, whatever. Cover my Saturday morning sometime next month so I can actually go out on a Friday.”

“Done.”

“Then we’re even,” she replies with a wink. You turn back to Eliot and he nods at the two of you.

“I’ll meet you outside,” he says, and you hurry to the back to get your things.

When you step out into the cool air, Eliot is leaned up against your car, waiting, brow furrowed in thought.

“Hey,” you say quietly, though you know the odds of startling him are slim to none. He looks up, and though he seems weary, he smiles at you. “I never got to give you a kiss,” you continue, “if you want one.” His smile widens a little at that.

“C’mere,” he says, the word caught halfway between an invitation and a plea. You lean in and take his face in your hands, pressing your mouth to his and he meets your tenderness with searing heat. You gasp softly against his lips, fingers of one hand sliding back into his hair, his hand fitting snugly against the small of your back. He kisses you like he’s afraid it will be the last time, leaving you breathless when he pulls away to rest his forehead against yours.

“Whoa,” you manage. Eliot lets out a clipped chuckle.

“Sorry,” he says, stealing another kiss, this one only a chaste peck, “sorry, I…” He shakes his head, the ends of his hair tickling your cheeks. “Felt like I was never gonna see you again.”

“Don’t be sorry,” you counter, “that was… I needed that. Trust me.” You offer a small smile as you skim your thumb across his cheek. “Now how about we get out of here, yeah?” Eliot gives the slightest of nods, a hum of agreement, but it’s a moment before he can make himself let go of you to head for the passenger seat.

The drive isn’t long, and Eliot tilts his head back against the seat and shuts his eyes. You don’t know it, but this is the first time since the university that he’s felt safe enough to do it for more than a few seconds. He doesn’t sleep, though, only listens to the quiet sounds of the road, the barely audible hush of your breathing.

With a little luck, you’re able to park close to your building, and Eliot hovers close as you make your way into the apartment. An almost tangible relief settles over the both of you once the lock slides home, and Eliot settles heavily onto the couch as you step out of your shoes. Wordlessly, you climb astride his lap and he pulls you close, face buried against your chest. His hair’s a little tangled as you start to comb your fingers through it, but you’re patient with the knots, coaxing them free so you don’t hurt him. He thumbs absent circles at the base of your spine in fits and starts, sometimes stopping and just letting you comfort him.

You can’t be sure how much time passes like that, Eliot’s breath warm against your skin, your hands in his hair, but eventually you’ve got all the knots out. You press a kiss to the crown of his head.

“Hey,” you whisper, “you hungry, sweetheart?” Slowly, he lifts his head, hair mussed adorably, thanks to your involvement.

“I could make something,” he says, expression a little foggy, though you don’t think he’d actually fallen asleep while you held him.

“Like hell you can,” you counter gently, “you’re not lifting a finger tonight. We can do takeout, hm?” 

“All right,” he concedes, looking up at you fondly.

“What sounds good?” Eliot unwraps his arms from around you and begins to trail his hands lightly up and down the length of your forearms as he weighs his options.

“Indian?” he says after a moment, “Maybe Thai?”

“Ooh, let’s do Indian; that sounds good.”

“You got it, sweetheart.” You can’t resist ducking down for a quick kiss before you disentangle yourself from Eliot’s lap, swiping your phone off the coffee table.

“You want your usual?” you ask, opening up the delivery app. Eliot is up right after you and he steps behind you and slings an arm around your waist, kissing the top of your shoulder. Warmth blooms in your chest.

“Please,” he says. “‘M gonna go take a shower. That all right?” You twist your head so you’re looking at him.

“Of course it is.” He kisses the crease that forms in your brow, then your nose, and with that, he strides off into the bathroom.

You wish he didn’t feel like he had to ask permission. Sure, this may be your apartment, but it’s as much his now as you are. He’s made a home here and in your heart, and you know he knows you’d give him anything he asked for–– and feel fuller because of it.

You also know that Eliot is a man who feels he needs permission to walk this earth. You know that every day he struggles to forgive himself for the things he’s done, asks penance for every good thing he accepts into his life now. As you change into your pajamas, you wish you could make him understand just how deserving he is. Of life, of happiness, of love. 

When the doorbell rings, the water has shut off, and you buzz in the delivery driver. You’re doling the food out onto plates when Eliot pads into the kitchen, having traded his everyday garb for sweatpants and a t-shirt.

“Feeling better?” you ask, turning from your work to take him in in all his cozy glory. He hums the affirmative and stands beside you to finish making his plate. Once you’re both settled at the table, you finally broach the subject.

“El, do you wanna talk about it?” He gives a noncommittal shrug, takes a forkful of food.

“What’d they tell you?” He doesn’t look at you.

“Not a whole lot,” you admit, “but I know you just went through at least a couple of days of sleep deprivation.” You don’t say the word torture, but then you don’t really need to. Eliot nods. He doesn’t say anything for a moment.

“Kept telling myself it’d be easy. That I’d done it before and there was a clear end in sight.” He looks up at you meaningfully, now. “Somebody to come home to.” You frown, bottom lip pinched between your teeth, and nod. “But that’s the thing about it; you lose time, start feeling delirious. Had the team in my ear the whole time, but…” He shakes his head. “It was a little too much like bein’ back there for my taste.”

You don’t know exactly where this particular ‘there’ is, but you know there are a few dark places Eliot goes when he’s sleeping, or even sometimes when he’s awake. His trauma isn’t easy for him to talk about, but you know he grapples with it often.

“Place was recruiting guys out of homeless shelters–– buncha rich kids offering three meals, a place to stay, and 50 bucks a day. Said they were studying PTSD, fuckin’ animals.” He’s getting more impassioned as he continues, but his voice is still quiet. “Pickin’ vets up off the street just to make ‘em relive the worst moments of their lives, trying to figure out how to break people––” Eliot cuts himself off, grits his teeth, and takes a slow breath. He looks at you, expression melting from angry to rueful. “Same kid behind it all had his frat beat the hell outta Hardison once they found out who I was. Got the location where they were keeping him outta the interrogator down there in less than two minutes.”

“Sounds like he got what was coming to him,” you say evenly. Eliot scoffs, and you can feel the way he deflects the vitriol away from you and onto himself.

“I’m no better’an them,” he says bitterly, not meeting your gaze, “not really. Gave me an excuse and I did the same thing they were doing.”

“El,” you say, “come on, that’s not true.” He makes himself look at you again. His eyes shine with guilt. 

“Isn’t it?”

You stand up and drag your chair closer to his and then sit back down, putting a hand on his knee. 

“Not for a second. Baby, you’re comparing yourself to men who used their power to abuse people already down on their luck. You did one bad thing to a very bad man, and you did it to save your friend.” He avoids your eyes again, jaw working silently. “And it’s eating you alive!” you cry. “Look at me,” you plead, “look at me.”

He does and your gaze is like sunlight. The warmth feels so good he can’t stand it.

“Bad people don’t worry about the things they’ve done,” you continue, “Bad people–– truly bad people–– don’t feel remorse the way you do. Bad people don’t break their backs to help people like you do. Bad people don’t love like you do… so fiercely. And so much.” Eliot is staring down at his plate, brow furrowed so deep it looks almost painful. But he nods. A little bit, he nods.

You don’t know if it’s because you’ve gotten through to him or because he wants you to feel like you have, but slow and steady has always won the race with Eliot. He reaches down to take your hand and continues eating dinner with his left. You drag your plate over, keeping your fingers laced with his, and finish your own food with your right.

Eliot insists, gently, on doing the dishes, and though you spend a few moments with your arms wrapped around him from behind, cheek pressed against his back, eventually you shuffle off to start getting ready for bed.

By the time he’s finished up, you’ve got the covers turned down on his side while you’re tucked under on yours, sitting up, waiting for him. He stands next to the bed a moment, looking apprehensive.

“What can I do?” you ask quietly. “To make it easier, I mean. Is there anything I can do?” His lips quirk into a small smile.

“You’re already doing it, sweetheart.” Eliot takes a breath and turns out the bedside lamp, crawling into bed beside you. As you lower yourself so you’re laying down, he holds out his arm, offering you your usual spot nestled against his chest. You lay your head down and he tucks his arm around you. Finally, you both feel like everything is right again.

“You sure you don’t wanna be the little spoon for a change?” you whisper, though you’re already making yourself comfortable–– an arm draped over his stomach, one ankle tucked between both of his.

“Nah,” he replies, leaning his cheek against your hair, “missed you. Missed this.” Carefully, you tilt your head back and place a soft kiss to his lips.

“You know you’re safe with me,” you say, though it sounds more like a question.

“I know.” He means it.

“I love you, Eliot.”

“I love you too, baby.”

“If you need me, wake me up, all right?” you say as you settle back into his chest.

“I’ll try––” he stops himself. “I will.”

“Good,” you whisper. It gets quiet, then, and you focus on the sound of Eliot’s heartbeat, the warmth of having him in your bed again, his arms around you. Eventually, you drift off to the sound of his slow, even breathing.

In the years that come, you’re fairly certain you can count on one hand the times Eliot has fallen asleep before you. This night is one of them.

[thegeeksideofsr]

Midnight Snack

Summery: Nate's daughter' period is a pain, literally and figuratively. Sent home to relax, and receives a late night visitor.

A/n: This is entirely self indulgence. I was on my period, had cramps and wanted cuddles. But alas. I am single. So this was made. Eliot might be a little OOC, but whatever. It's fluffy.

The kitchen is a buzz with activity. Kate works with the pastry chef and over sees the line cooks prepping at their stations, the prep cooks prepare ingredients and portioning them out, and the bussers setting tables up.

I sit at the bar talking with the sommelier, Alice, and bartender, Duncan, about the wine list, the drinks available, and the influx of minors trying to buy alcohol.

I try to pay attention to them, but my cramps are taking over, going from my waist to my lower back, I run a hand along my abdomen, trying to soothe the pain.

"Boss, you ok?" Duncan asks.

"I'm fine."

"You don't look fine, hun," Alice pipes in. " You look like you are going to be sick or pass out."

"I am fine," I stress. " It's just cramps. I've had them before and I'll have them again. Now the wine list-"

"Boss!" Yells Kate comes out of the kitchen in a trot. " Do you still want to do the- whoa! You look like shit!"

"Thanks, Kate. Just what every girl want to hear."

"Sorry, but you do." She turns to Duncan and Alice, "What'd you two do to her?"

"Nothing!" They exclaim.

"She has cramps and insists she's fine even though she looks awful." Alice's explains.

Kate turns to me, "You want to go home? I can hold down the fort."

"I can't. It's a Friday night, I can't leave you guys here while I'm at home."

"Ok, but how much help are you going to be of you are in pain all night. Have you taken anything?"

I nod. "Forty minutes ago. They haven't touched it."

"Well then I am pulling Soue Chef rank and sending you home." Kate's hand in her hips and a determined look on her face.

"I don't think that's a thing." Duncan mutters.

She ignores him and squints at me. "I will call your father and tell him you aren't talking care of you self."

I squint back.

"You wouldn't."

She reaches into her pocket, pull her phone out and opens to his contact. Her finger hovers over the call button.

"If you don't agree to go home in the next ten seconds I will call him." She says calmly then begins to count down.

I look to Duncan and Alice.

Duncan raises his hand in defense,"I'm not getting in the middle of Kate and one of her missions. I know better."

Alice shrugs. "While I don't agree with her tactics, you need a break. You have been here almost everyday for the past three months."

I glare at them. "Traitors."

"Five, four, three" Kate's finger hovers closer to the screen.

"Fine! I'll go home!" I relent. " What are you, twelve? Threatening to call my dad."

Kate shrugs as she put her phone away.

"It worked though. What's that say about you?"

I roll my eyes as I slide of the stool. "I hate you."

"I know."

I head to my office to get my phone and some paperwork, then to the wall of lockers in the back for the rest of my stuff.

I explain to the kitchen crew that I'm not feeling well and that Kate is sending me home, they all nod in understanding as they have also experienced her mothering, then stop at the bar again on my way out.

"Call me if you need me," I tell the trio. " I can still -"

"We will survive until Monday," Alice assures.

"Monday?"

"We discussed it," Kate nods, and gestures to the pair next to her. "And decided you need a vacation. You make sure this place runs smoothly and that everyone is ok. It's time you took care of yourself."

The thoughtfulness is touching, and she is right, a break would be nice.

"If you're sure."

"Go!" The three practically yell.

"Ok, ok I'm going."

I head towards the door, wave one last time, then open the door.

"Call the guy you told me about!" Kate yells after me. " The one with blue eyes!"

"What guy?" Duncan asks, a protective tone to his voice.

I roll my eyes and head to my car.

**********************************************"

Once in my apartment I go for a hot shower, hot as I can stand. My cramps are a bit better, but not gone, and the heat of the shower helps.

After the shower come the comfy pants, my favorite sweatshirt, and fuzzy socks.

I make my way to the kitchen and make a cup of tea. I place a bean bag in the microwave and turn it on for a few minutes to heat up.

Once it's done, I grab my mug and bean bag, then head to the couch turning off lights as I go.

Once in the living room I grab the remote and place it on the side table next to my mug, before placing the bean bag on my lower belly then tuck my blanket in around me.

I turn the TV on and pull up my comfort show, volume turned down low.

Cool autumn air flows in from the window, cracked open for fresh air, fairy lights line the ceiling of the living room casting a warm glow.

After half an hour my phone vibrates on the side table, my Dad's name across the screen.

I pick it up to answer.

"Hey, Dad. How are you?"

"Hey, kiddo. I wanted to check in, haven't heard from you in a while. Didn't expect you to pick up. Was gonna leave a message because you were working."

"I'm fine. Just busy with work. I wasn't feeling well so Kate sent me home," I explain.

"Are you okay?" His voice full of concern.

"I'm fine. Nothing a good nights sleep won't fix." I assure him. "I'm sorry I haven't called you or come by, but you and the team seemed busy. The last time I saw you all Eliot looked like he when toe to toe with a moose and lost."

"Yeah, we have been rather busy, but that doesn't excuse us not spending time together."

"I know, but it's not a big deal. We both have been busy. It happens. And what you and the team are doing is good work, I don't want to get in the way. The least I can do is feed you when I have the opportunity."

He goes quiet, neither of us speak for a moment.

"Can you come over tomorrow? Just us. So we can catch up?"

I smile. "Of course! What time do you want me there?"

"Ten?"

"Ten is perfect. I-"

I hear a yell in the background, I think is Eliot . Dad yells back that he's on his way.

"I have to go, kiddo. I'll see you tomorrow. I love you."

"I love you too, Dad. I'll see you tomorrow."

We hang up, I set my phone down again and go back to my show.

I start to dose after a few episodes. My bean bag long since cooled, but the blanket keeps the heat in. Thankfully the cramps have subsided.

A knock on my door breaks through the quiet.

A groan leaves me. I extract myself from my cocoon, keeping my blanket wrapped around me as I trudge to the door.

I look through the peap hole, to find Eliot on the other side.

Confusion floods me as I unlock and open the door.

"Eliot?" I ask him. "What are you doing here this late."

"Nate said you weren't feelin' well." He lift his arm, showing off a fabric bag. "I brought this."

"What is it?"

"Can I come in?"

I nod, stepping out of the way.

He step past me to stand in the entrance awkwardly while I lock the door.

I turn to him. He looks out of place in my cozy apartment. His leather jacket and hoodie over a Henley, work boots and blue jeans.

He in turn looks at me. Reminding me that I'm wearing a blanket as a cape and fuzzy socks.

"Where's your kitchen?" He asks.

"Down on the left." I gesture towards the kitchen.

He nods, goes to take a step but hesitates.

"Should I take my boots off?" He asks.

I look down to his rather dirty boots, then back to his face.

"Would you mind?"

He shakes his head.

"I can take the bag to the kitchen if you'd like."

He hands it to me hesitantly, then bends to unlace his boots.

I head to the kitchen, "Make yourself at home," I call over my shoulder.

I place the bag on the counter, then turn my kettle on for another cup of tea, or hot chocolate. That would be good too.

Foot steps pull me from my thoughts as Eliot comes to the counter and start to pull items from the bag to lay on the counter.

Two tupperware of something, two quart jars of what looked like broth, and a tub of my favorite ice cream.

"Can I borrow your kitchen?" He asks, leaning against the counter next to the items he laid out.

"Depends. What are you making?"

He opens and sets down one of the tupperware to reveal scrambled eggs and small bits of cooked chicken, repeating with the next container to reveal small elbows pasta.

"My mom's chicken noodle soup. Homemade broth is what makes it so good. Fixes any ailment you got."

Oh that sounded good.

"Eliot, as sweet as this is and how good it sounds, I don't think that soup will help me right now."

He shrugs. "Never know till ya try it. How ya feelin' any way?"

I hesitate and look away from him.

He steps closer, his hands rest on my arms, heat radiating through the blanket around my shoulders.

"What is it?" He asks.

"My period. The cramps have been really bad today. Kate made me go home because I looked like I was going pass out. I was fine, but it was nice to relax for a while."

"Have you taken anything for them?"

I nod. " Some meds. And a hot shower and a heated bean bag. It's fine though, you didn't have to come over."

He shakes his head, "I don't mind. Are you cramping now?"

"The meds are wearing off," I check the clock on the stove, "I can take more in half an hour."

"Alright. When's the last time you ate?"

That question makes me pause. Thinking back, I wasn't hungry when I got home, or after my shower, so that ment the last meal would have been lunch with Alice and Kate. Considering it was ten-thirty , it had been about eleven hours. Yikes.

"Lunch time," I mutter.

He sighs and give me a disapproving look.

I roll my eyes, "I know. You can cook if you agree to stay and eat with me and keep me company."

He lets a half smile cross his face. " Deal."

I nod then leave him to fetch my mug for a new cup of tea.

On my return I see he's pulled a medium pot from the cupboard, emptied the two jars into it, the container of eggs and chicken as well, the ice cream no longer on the counter, presumably tucked away safely in the freezer.

"Where'dya keep your herbs?" He asks.

"Left of the stove." I gesture towards the cupboard as I pour hot water into my mug.

He opens the cupboard, reading the hand written labels.

"You dry these yourself?" He turns to me, holding the jar of dill.

I nod.

"The building has a community garden. Some people grow fruits, others grow veggies. I grow the herbs and dry them. The landlord has a chicken coop and those ladies are egg producing machines," I explain with chuckle as I grab my mug and move to the kitchen table, tucking my legs under me.

"We share what we grow, like a family. There's only a six units in the building so it works well. It was nice when Dad was out in LA. And when Sam died. My neighbor's made sure I was ok during that time."

"Nate wasn't there for you?"

"Not as much as I would have hoped. He took it the hardest. He got really angry at the world." I look down to my hands. "I was just starting my restaurant when he got diagnosed. Kate was the only one who knew."

"I'm sorry." He says, looking at me with a sad look. "I met Nate when he was probably at his worst. He was reckless. He never mentioned you before."

I laugh lightly.

"I'm not surprised. He always kept work and family separate as much as he could."

He nods then goes back to cooking.

I watch him cook. His movements smooth and confident, adding herbs and stirring them in, adding the pasta and turning the heat down to simmer.

Watching him slowly gets taken over by pain encircling my hips and lower abdomen.

I lean forward over my lap, squishing my organs to relieve the pain. I must make some kind of noise, because Eliot's feet appear in front of me, then he squats down in front of me.

"You ok, darlin'?"

"I'm fine." I mutter.

"No, you're not. Where are your meds?"

"Bathroom, left middle drawer."

He leaves my view, I hear him rummage through the drawer, then his foot steps back to the kitchen.

He squats back in front of me, opening the jar and pouring out a few pills into his hand.

"How many?"

"Two."

He puts the extras away until two remain in his palm, held out towards me.

I sit up, and take them from him, I wash them down with my tea, now drinking temp.

I set my mug back on the table, Eliot's gaze following my movements, hand on my knees gently rubbing.

"Why are you so calm about this?" I ask. "Most guys are kinda grossed out, or do the bare minimum."

"My mom taught me to take care of people, especially women in pain. Plus I've been workin' with Parker and Sophie for two years, this ain't my first rodeo."

"Parker must be a handful." I joke.

"Yeah she is." He chuckles, the corners of his eyes crinkle. "You need anything else?"

"Not right now." I push my blanket from my shoulders to stand up. "I think I'll go back to my spot on the couch after a quick bathroom stop."

He nods, taking a step back allowing me room to stand.

I head to the bathroom, sounds come from Eliot moving about my apartment through the door.

Once I'm done I head back out towards the kitchen, but the living room catches my eye, the couch specifically.

My blanket it there, not on the kitchen chair, my mug on the side table, and two bowls sit on the coffee table in front of the couch, steam rising from them. The microwave hums is the kitchen.

I stand in the door way of the kitchen, starring at Eliot, leaning against the counter waiting for the microwave to finish.

He looks up at me.

"Go sit down. I'll bring this over when it's done."

"What is it? My bean bag?"

He nods.

"Found it when I brought you blanket over. Thought I'd warm it for you while you were gone."

The thoughtfulness makes my heart flutter.

"Thank you, Eliot."

"You're welcome. Now go sit." He points towards the living room then turns to the microwave as it beeps.

I give a small salute then head to the couch, tucking my self into my blanket like a nest.

Eliot follows a minute later holding the bean bag.

"Over the blanket or under?" He asks.

"Under." I reach for the bag, move the blanket and settle it across my lap and abdomen.

I tuck the blanket back around me, leaning my head down to the back of the couch.

"Better?" He asks.

I hum an confirmation.

The couch dips next to me, he sits close enough to feel his body heat, but not touching.

He leans forward and pick up a bowl, passing it to me, then picking up the next for himself.

I thank him, then take a spoon full of the soup. It smells amazing, and the taste even more so.

"Eliot, this is amazing. Thank you."

"You're welcome. I'm glad you like it."

I watch him as he eats, sitting on the edge of the couch, leaning forward like he's really to go at a moment notice. Not relaxed at all.

"Eliot," I say to him. "Sit back get comfy."

He looks at me, almost like a dear caught in headlights, then shifts back and settles into his spot.

"Happy?" He grumbles.

"Very. Now," I reach for the TV remote and turn it back on. " What do you like to watch?"

"I don't watch TV much, but when I have the opportunity it's sports."

"Of course it is," I whisper under my breath.

"What was that?" He raises any eyebrow at me.

"Nothing! So sports, I think they are running some old baseball games -"

"Not baseball."

"What's wrong with baseball?"

"It's stupid. Can't score off defense."

I roll my eyes.

"Don't say that around my restaurant, you'd never make it out alive."

"I think I'd be fine."

I shake my head, turning back to the TV to find something we agree on, surprisingly it's old reruns of Magnum PI. At least he's got good taste out side of sports.

Soon enough the bowls a empty, ice cream replaces soup and is consumed. Empty bowls are left on the coffee table to be cleaned later.

During the third episode, I lean over to rest against Eliot's side, his arm moving from the back of the couch to around my shoulders, his thumb rubbing against my shoulder.

I feel myself start to doze off. The dimly lit room, the warmth from Eliot around me, and the comfort of his arm around it the perfect recipe for sleep.

I wake up a little bit as I feel myself being being lifted from the couch. I'm carried for a few seconds, then am gently set onto something soft. A hand cradles my head, guiding it until my head hits my pillow.

The blankets are pulled over me, tucking me in. A head brushes some hair from my face, then leaves. I look to catch the hand, I hold tight.

"I gotta go, darlin'. You need sleep." He whispers.

"Stay." I mumble back, eyes falling closed again.

He doesn't move, still holding my hand, he then squeezes it briefly and lets go.

"A'right, I'll stay."

He rounds the bed and climbs in the other side. I shuffle over to his side, his body heat like a magnet. I cuddle into his side, my head on his chest, arm draped across his stomach.

He's stiff, and his heart beats are rapid.

He soon relaxes, heart slowing, one hand resting on my upper back, the other coming to rest on the back of my head, rubbing my scalp, lulling me to sleep.

***********************************************

Sun through shear curtains shines on my face, pulling me from sleep.

I roll away from the window reaching to the side that was occupied the night before, but my hand lands on cool, empty bedsheets.

I sit up and glance around the room. Not a trace of anything out of place. I listen for movement, but the apartment is silent.

I toss the blankets of and slip out of my room.

The blanket on the couch is neatly folded, there are no mugs on the coffee or side tables.

The kitchen is the same. No tupperware or jars, no pots on the stove. The sink is empty, or in the drainer.

The whole house is baren of any sign Eliot was in my apartment, let alone my bed.

Except for the the pot of coffee on my counter, the light still on.

***********************************************

Taglist: @fictional-hooman @skyeofbees @kimberkingrivers @spencereliotwinchester @padawancat97

[security-chief-odo]

The Fake Dating Job - Chapter 4

Elliot Spencer x Reader

Previous chapters: 1 2 3

Note: Thanks for your patience. My life has been crazy as of late. In exchange for bearing with me, I offer you, probably my favorite chapter so far of any of my fics.

Word count: ~3.7k

Description: You and Eliot pine for each other throughout the reception. Will your ex get in the way of your happiness?

• • •

After the ceremony, you and the rest of the bridal party are asked to hang back for photos. As the rest of the guests file into the reception hall for the cocktail hour, Eliot makes a brief detour to give you a peck on the cheek. “See you inside sweetheart.” he says softly before rejoining the rest of the guests.

Your mind occasionally wandered to Eliot throughout the photo process, whereas his mind never left you from the moment that he left the bridal suite this morning. You looked gorgeous in the dress your sister had picked out for you. Maybe he could blame the dress for why he spent more time focused on you than on the actual wedding.

Though that is the beauty of this whole plan, there would be nobody to explain it to as he was supposed to want to stare at you. There would be no moment where Hardison calls him out for staring at you for a little too long. There would be no explaining, rather lying, to Parker about how protective he gets over you on a mission. There would be no knowing look across the room from Nate or well meaning advice from Sophie. There would be nothing but his own thoughts and delusions that you would ever want him to be more than just your fake boyfriend.

When the bridal party finally makes their entrance into the reception hall, his eyes are searching for you. Despite how happy you are for your sister, a feeling of relief nearly consumes you once you find yourself by Eliot’s side once again. Though, as you make your way to the table, your relief falters slightly at the realization of who you’ll be seated near. Your ex is seated at the same table as you, only two seats away.

Eliot’s warm embrace calms you though. This is what he was here for ultimately, to be a barrier between you and your ex. To make the night go better for you. And in a small way, he was already doing just that.

After the couple shares their first dance, dinner is served. You desperately try to avoid giving your ex any attention, and Eliot makes that easy. He eats slowly, taking time between bites to shower you with little bits of affection. His hand rests on your thigh through much of the meal and you hope that the flush that crosses your cheeks isn’t too obvious in the dim lighting. You could get used to these casual touches, if only they weren’t for show.

“How’d you like the food?” you ask, hoping that a bit of small talk can keep your wishful thoughts at bay.

“It was alright.”

That response alone was very telling so you quietly finish the sentence he was too polite to complete. “But you could’ve done better?” You raise your eyebrow at him as he half nods.

“I’m just sayin’ I know what these wedding caterers charge and they should take a bit more pride in their work.”

You can’t help, but chuckle at this as the DJ announces the father daughter dance. You turn your chair towards the dance floor to watch your father and sister share this moment and Elliot does the same beside you. He wraps his arm around you and pulls you closer to him. You can’t help but lean into the touch. You probably don’t need to do as much as you are to sell the act, but damn it, if this is your only opportunity to be this close with Eliot, maybe relishing in it a little isn’t a bad thing.

After the dance, cake is served and this time Eliot has no complaints. The cake is as close to perfect as any cake could be. As you finish, you remind yourself to ask your sister where she got the cake from so you could maybe stop by the bakery on your own before you leave town.

As the dance floor opens up, you take this opportunity to go talk to your parents. You haven’t had enough time with them this weekend and you really have missed them. Ever the gentleman, Eliot insists on tagging along to properly meet them. He is far too good at this fake boyfriend thing.

You greet your parents with a warm hug. “I’ve missed you guys!” you say trying to be heard over the music. “It’s been too long.”

“And whose fault is that?” your dad asks.

Your mom nudges him and gives a disapproving glare at his bluntness. “You should visit more. Maybe then it wouldn’t have taken so long for you to introduce us to this handsome fella.”

“I’ve been telling her the same thing.” Eliot steps in with the charm offensive in full force. “I’m Eliot.” He shakes each of your parent’s hands. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

“All bad things I suppose?” your mom asks teasingly.

“Hardly. She’s told me so many fun stories about your family. Though maybe a few of those stories could be classified as embarrassing.”

It’s nice to see your parents get along with Eliot, though it shouldn’t matter to you. You will have a fake breakup in a few weeks and this will be nothing but a memory for both of you. A damn good one too.

You’re broken out of that train of thought when you hear your mom reply, “Oh, is that so?”

“She’s got plenty of embarrassing stories of her own.” your dad adds in. Eliot lets out a hearty laugh at the prospect.

“Oh? Any worth telling?” You bury your face in your hands in fear of the mortifying words that may come next from either of your parents.

“How about you buy me a drink and I’ll tell you anything you wanna know about our dear Y/N?” Your mom suggests.

“Gladly” Eliot guides your mom to the bar and out of your earshot as you sit with your father.

You sit in silence at first, just enjoying the shared time. Minutes pass before your father speaks again, without even looking directly at you, “He’s good for you, you know.”

You figure the best way to avoid being caught in a lie is to just stay as close to the truth as possible, so you tell your dad your real thoughts on Eliot. “I know, he’s a really nice guy. He’s funny and caring. I really love him.”

“That’s not what I mean.” He turns to fully face you. “I just haven’t seen you this happy in some time.”

“Oh.” you say, stunned. This statement catches you off guard but luckily your father continues, so you don’t have to fill the silence.

“You seemed so sad before, especially with James. You used to force those tight lipped smiles that you thought we didn’t notice. This new guy has brought back your infectious smile. The one you don’t even seem to notice, you just do it.” He pauses slightly, “I missed that smile.”

This conversation comes to an end as your mom and Eliot return laughing loudly. Once he approaches the table, he stops in front of you. “Care for a dance?” He offers you his hand.

You gladly accept and follow him out onto this dance floor.You dance through several upbeat songs, joking and laughing at each other’s goofy dance moves throughout. For a moment, you forget how painful going back to normal life may be because having this much fun with Eliot reminds you how important your friendship is. The heartbreak could never break this bond. The bitterness of pining could never overpower the sweetness of these moments you share.

He spins you around and holds you close to him, your back to his chest. As you sway together to the music Eliot whispers in your ear, “You know, your mom told me some interesting things about you.”

“Oh god. What did she say?” You brace yourself for whatever ungodly stories from your youth your mom may have dug up for this occasion.

“Nothing too bad. I actually thought it was cute.” You turn in his arms to face him and raise your eyebrow as if to ask him to elaborate. “First she told me about the time you cut your own hair.”

You let out a chuckle, mostly in relief at how benign of a story that was. “I can still remember the terrible bangs I had in my school pictures that year. It felt like it took forever for those to grow out.”

“So is that why you convinced your sister to do the same just two years later?” He looks at you accusatorily and you know that your mom had to have given him more ammunition if he’s already digging in on the teasing.

You raise your hands defensively, “I just handed her the scissors and told her I thought she’d look cute with bangs. What she did after that is not my business.”

You wrap your arms around Eliot as you continue to dance as you bicker. “Oh I’m sure it was all her own idea.” His smile only widens as he continues, “She also showed me this picture of you as a kid where you were laying face first into your plate of mashed potatoes. It was cute. You’re still pretty cute when you get all sleepy like that.”

This catches you off guard because it’s just one more moment that’s a step past friendly without any reason for it. Nobody could really overhear your conversation over the music. He said that just for your benefit, or maybe just to sell the act. Maybe in a different life Eliot could have been an actor, he certainly played the part of lovestruck boyfriend pretty convincingly.

Trying not to focus much more on his words, lest their implications consume you, you add, “Did she tell you how I used to fall asleep at my bedtime so religiously I would sleep sitting up at family gatherings or in the cart at the grocery store?” He shook his head in response. “Yeah I wish I was still that committed to my sleep schedule.”

“Well ain’t that the truth sweetheart.” There’s a softness about him that is so rare and nearly indescribable. It’s a nearly magnetic force and you find it impossible to look away from him. It feels like if you even glance away for a second, the levity will be gone and the weight of the world will once again return to rest on his shoulders.

Soon you have to shift your focus as the DJ announces the bouquet toss. The men clear off the dance floor as all of the unmarried women gather. Sure, it doesn’t really mean anything if you catch the bouquet, but you find yourself reaching for it nonetheless. Maybe it was fate or maybe just luck or maybe it was set up by your sister considering her earlier remarks, but regardless the bouquet is in your hand and you’re staring down at it in shock.

Your sister hugs you and you know it’s going to break her heart when you and Eliot “split up.” Though by now, you’re too deep into it and so you have to act excited about this turn of events. A small part of you is excited though, the part that has clung onto every romantic moment this weekend as if it’s more than a fantasy. Perhaps that part isn’t so small.

On the side of the dancefloor the excitement over your purely hypothetical future builds in Eliot too. Fuck it. He won’t have many more chances to do this. He makes his way across the floor to you and happily pulls you to him, first in a tight hug, then into a lingering kiss. One that he has to hope you can’t just feel the sincerity of his desire dripping from.

You could get used to being kissed like this. Though, as your family is currently about half of the room, you pull away from Eliot, you can’t convince yourself to go very far away. Your foreheads rest against each other and the tension is palpable. Damn. He really is committed to convincing your family. He would have you convinced if you hadn’t been the one to set up this whole ruse.

Around you the dance floor fills again as the DJ turns on a slow song. You and Eliot hold each other close as you dance. Eliot softly sings along in your ear. His soothing voice slowly erases every worry you’ve had about this night. You feel safe and at home in his arms, and even if it won’t last, you can’t help sinking further against him. Truly if your heart must be broken, there’s nobody you would trust more to break it kindly.

You and Eliot are lost to the world around you as you both relish in what little time you have left to hold each other. That momentary bliss comes to an abrupt halt as the song fades out and you notice a presence looming just behind you. Just then you hear James’ voice behind you as his hand touches your back, sending a chill down your spine at your own unease. Speaking to Eliot he asks, “May I have her for this next one?”

Something seems off to him, but you reassure Eliot that it’s fine with a polite nod. There’s a sinking feeling in his chest, of course this was never real so he should have been prepared for rejection, but it still stings seeing you in someone else’s arms. Maybe that’s why you invited him, not to avoid your asshole ex, but to make James jealous.

Eliot goes to the bar to drown in something other than his own self pity and insecurities, and is met with your mother inviting him to sit next to her. Despite his own feelings, he won’t ruin things with your family so he orders a drink and sits at the open stool she has offered him.

“You’re good for her, you know?”

“I try to be.”

“I mean it. She’s happier with you than she has been in a long time. She still thinks she doesn’t deserve you though.” your mom looks at him with a sad sort of smile.

“What?” he asks incredulously.

“She’s always been a worrier. You can see it in the way she holds you,” she pauses in thought before correcting herself, “in the way you hold each other. You’re both so scared the other will leave. You don’t think you deserve her either, do you?”

It’s a relief in a way to be able to be truly honest for once this weekend. “No ma’am. I can’t say I do. I’m happy to have her until she realizes that though, and that’s enough for now.” He waves to the bartender and orders a second drink.

“You’re both idiots, I swear.” Your mother lets out a long sigh. “Do you treat my daughter with kindness?”

Suddenly, under your mom’s gaze Eliot feels like he’s sitting in the principal’s office facing detention. He feels small. “Of course.”

“And you love her?”

“Yes.”

“So are you saying Y/N doesn’t deserve your kindness and love?”

“No ma’am.”

“Then pull your head out of your ass and stop acting like she’s going to leave you. That girl loves you, anyone could see that, so why are you sitting here with me at the bar, drowning your sorrows?”

He hangs his head in defeat, he couldn’t argue the point of your affections, not without ruining your plan, so he settles on the easier argument. “She already has a dance partner.” He gestures to the dance floor.

Your mom finally glances over to you and rolls her eyes. “God I’ve always hated that son of a bitch.”

Eliot can’t help the deep belly laugh that escapes him. Your mom cursing in anger is funny when it’s not directed at him. It’s then when you turn to where he can see your face, your features lined with sadness. His protective instincts finally kick in and he heads your way. He tries to hang back to get the full scope of the situation.

As Eliot was at the bar, your ex had been saying truly awful things. As Eliot reapproached, he continued. “He’s gonna leave you, you know?”

Eliot couldn’t make out any of what was being said, but he knew from the tension in your body that you weren’t happy. He’s kicking himself now for letting his own insecurities put you in the exact kind of situation he was here to help you avoid.

Not wanting to cause a scene, you plaster a fake smile on your face and through gritted teeth say “I fail to see how that’s any of your fucking business James.”

“I’m just looking out for you, babe.”

“Don’t call me that” you cut him off.

He continues, not acknowledging what you said. “I may have moved on, but I still care about you. You don’t deserve to be hurt when he finds a prettier girl and runs away with her.”

“Fuck off, James.” Eliot isn’t going to stay with you, but that doesn’t mean you need to tolerate James’ bullshit. You pull yourself out of his hold but he follows behind you.

Eliot quickly approaches as he sees this and is in earshot finally for the last insult James throws out. “You know, I don’t know why you bothered catching that bouquet. Nobody is ever going to love you, much less marry you.”

In an instant, James is grabbed from behind, turned, and pinned against the nearby wall. You barely hear the commotion behind you as you exit the reception hall and finally let a tear run down your face.

Inside all eyes are on Eliot and your family has gathered as he begins yelling at James, “What’s your fucking problem, man?”

All too cocky, James smirks, “Here to ask if you can have my current girlfriend when we break up? You clearly love my leftovers.”

That earns him a broken nose. Eliot’s fist makes sharp contact with his face and the blood from his nose quickly stains his white shirt. “You need to shut the fuck up and leave Y/N the fuck alone, or you’ll find out just how quickly I can break another bone.”

Ever the idiot James opens his mouth to reply, but, before he can, your sister yells at him, “Better yet, get the fuck out of my wedding.”

With the bride’s blessing, Eliot and your father drag James out to his car and, seeing he’s been beat, or perhaps fearing being beaten again, he leaves without another word.

He sees you sitting on a bench outside the reception hall and breaks into a jog, wanting to comfort you. He holds you to his chest as you gently sob. As much as you didn’t like that James was saying it, you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was right, but you let that insecurity burrow further inside your heart as you realize something far worse. You probably just ruined your sister’s wedding.

You sit up abruptly and wipe the tears from your face, “I need to go apologize to my sister.” You run inside, leaving Eliot to slowly follow, though he washes your ex’s blood off of his hand before re-entering the reception hall.

Your eyes scan the room and finally land on your sister. The anxiety makes the words practically spill out of your mouth, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to cause a scene at your wedding. I know I can’t make it better, but I’m sorry for ruining your night.”

Both of you are crying now. “You didn’t ruin anything. I shouldn’t have let him come, even if he was dating one of the other bridesmaids. If anything you fixed the wedding by getting rid of that piece of shit.”

“Well I’m pretty sure the getting rid of him part was more Eliot than it was me.” you chuckle. He walks up behind you, as if summoned by the mention of his name.

He looks toward your sister and her now husband as he wraps his hand around yours. “I am so sorry for,” he pauses and gestures vaguely towards the spot he had pinned James, “well, all of that really.”

Your sister laughs, “No need. We’ll just call it dinner and a show, and it was quite the show.” she leans in towards you both and in a far more serious tone adds “I heard from some of the others what he was saying before. You did the right thing, you could’ve gone a bit further to teach him a lesson if you ask me.”

He looks to you, now remembering that your ex had plenty of time in his absence to say far worse than what Eliot heard. “Wish I would’ve.” he lets out a nervous laugh, still unsure where he stands with everyone else. “I’m just glad he’s gone though and can’t cause any more trouble.”

Your sister replies, “Agreed. Though maybe try not to hit anyone at the next wedding?”

“I think I can manage that.” He smiles, glad to see that everyone is still in good spirits.

The groom, also seeming to relax, throws in, “You’d better because if those flowers are anything to go by, it’ll be your own.”

Eliot wraps his arms around you, and with more sincerity than you were prepared for says, “Hopefully.”

Trying so hard not to get lost in your imaginary future with Eliot, you change the topic. “Your wedding was really beautiful by the way. Congratulations.” You hug your sister. As you pull away, you lean back against Eliot and say. “I think it’s time for us to go back to the hotel though. I think we’ve created enough of a story tonight.”

“Of course,” she agrees. “Have a good night. Thank you both for coming.” Then as you walk away, your sister calls after you, loud enough for about half the room to hear, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, lovebirds.”

This leads to a few hoots and hollers from the other guests, just trying to tease and embarrass you further. You flip your sister off as Eliot guides you out of the room.

• • •

Next chapter

Let me know what you think!

Taglist: @mini-kunoichi @javicstories @imwithyoutiltheendofthelinebucky @being-worthy @xkell-bellx @imaginecrushes @sleeplessskeleton on @fablesrose @unholyhuntress @wonderlandfandomkingdom @fictional-hooman

[sstar-ggirl]

I feel silly what should I write???

[hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog]

Alright I need some help getting my confidence back to posting my kinda okay writing. So I am asking you all to fill up messages/asks and send me requests for one shots or short stories that may or may not spiral into a series, or which of my series do you want a new chapter written?

I guess I should also mention my second page @coffee-shop-girl is where I would post my stories under and that is where they all live. Now you’re probably wondering why I am not posting this on that page? Well I don’t know how to get my message/ask section back. It seems to have disappeared a while ago and that kind of when I stop writing and posting. So for now this page still has access to messages/asks so fingers crossed I don’t lose it on this page.

So what fandoms do I write for?

* Supernatural

* Chicago Fire, P.D.

* Animal Kingdom

* Leverage

* 9-1-1

* Suits

* The Walking Dead

Are my top fandoms, but send me anything, it will be good exercise in the creative process. So read through my meteoric work, see my style of writing, and send me a prompt.

I am tagging a few accounts that seem to have recently found my works, or that I have started following or that use to follow me. hope you don’t mind, I just really want to get eyes on this. I promise I will only tag you in posts moving forward if you want to be.

Thanks again for reading

@dreamtofus @dinahjane97 @lucid315 @winchesterwild78 @hobby27 @dw19791967 @zepskies @spnexploration @clarinette07 @snffbeebee @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog @deanwinchesterdaily @deans-spinster-witch @deanwinchestersgirl87 @lyarr24 @jackles010378 @wotinspntarnation @prettybubblesintheair

[multiversalfandomwriter222]

REQUESTS

I put up the board for my requests, you all should see it on my page. So for anyone who wants to request anyone from the list you can tell me and I’ll deliver! It just might take me a while to get into my writing again.

[beautifuldaysarehere]

Everyone please share your best Eliot Spencer x reader fics because I am sad and need some love.

[brooklhyn]

Eliot Spencer and What I am Learning About Myself

A poem about my brother that isn't making it in my poetry book

I have little time on my hands, so much of what I consume has a purpose.

My food is treated like medicine (six brazil nuts a day...), media is an opportunity to learn what is happening, books and tv fill in the gaps of my knowledge from economics to how to cook for my elderly neighbors. You get the point.

My heart has dipped low, weighed down with the collected tears of the world in her pocket, looking for joy in a shadowy street.

I try not to give myself passes. After all, people giving themselves passes often leaves other lives at chance in my line of work. But reason and wisdom peak my interest. In the swoop a half-sided smile, I'm sent into the cold with a prescription for laughter.

With comedy quiet for the sleepy winter, somehow, I find myself transported back to a room of younger me with the click of a dvd in the player. It's not family movies- don't be so naive.

I have fragmented memories of these stories- they are seemingly more politically prolific today than I remembered. But what catches my attention is the man with the dedication and calmness. He reminds me of someone- he did back then too.

Living a 1,000 lives in the last fews years has set me on this hunt to dissect who I once was. I didn't remember until recently but the room younger me was sat in was one of expectation- waiting for the door to open and me to be swept up into open arms, circling around me with assurance that was safe.

Back then, I could tell myself he was off liberating Croatia. Now, my tears fill my heart as I know that his dying day came before my own.

[spencereliotwinchester]

@mrswhozeewhatsis I need this to be a note that Eliot writes.... when he decides he needs to leave.... because he's so scared of loving you.... and he doesn't want to hurt you anymore than he has to.....

Also tagging @thoughtslikeaminefield

[myveryownfanfiction]

18+ MINORS AND THOSE WITHOUT AGE IN BIO DNI

prompt from @creativepromptsforwriting:

"You almost died!"

"I think we should really focus on that 'almost' part."

tags: @eclecticwildflowers, @illiana-mystery

warnings: mention of death, swearing, blood, injury

I slammed the door to the apartment we were using, Eliot flinching at the noise. Hardisons head popped up from the couch and Parker paused in front of me. I stood staring at Eliot, ignoring Nate and Sophie opening the door.

“Eliot.” I growled. He flushed and went wide eyed. Everyone was still as the tension grew in the air. “You dumbass.” I marched over to him and drew my hand back. Eliot flinched and I paused. “How could you?”

“(Y/N).” He whispered, eyes roaming behind me at everyone else. “Can we not…”

“what? Afraid your friends will hear?” I snapped. “Afraid they’ll find out that you actually care about someone enough that you’re scared when you piss them off?” Eliot swallowed thickly and brought his gaze back to me. When he shifted his weight, I sighed and turned to everyone else in the room. “Can we have the room?” Nate nodded and started to usher everyone out. Hardison took a little bribing but he eventually left.

“look (Y/N)…” I hit Eliot’s arm and he immediately grabbed it. “Ow. Hey ok. What’s wrong?” He turned back towards the sink and continued wringing out the rag he’d been holding to his eyebrow.

“you almost died!” I screamed at Eliot as I hit him again. “You almost died and I had to sit there and hear it over the comms!” Eliot caught my hands easily and started to rub his thumb over my knuckles.

“I think we should really focus on the ‘almost’ part.” He whispered. I tried to tug my hands out of his grip but Eliot held fast. “Hey. Look at me. Look at me.” Eliot ducked his head to hold my gaze as I looked down. “Sure I almost died. But I’m a hitter. The best in the business. They can’t kill me.” I shook my head at him.

“el…” I whispered as I finally looked back up at him. Eliot dropped my hands and cupped my cheeks, wiping at the tears that had spilled. “You’re more than a hitter. You know that.” Eliot smiled at me before kissing my forehead. “But I worry anyway. Best in the business or not.” Eliot nodded and he pulled me close, wrapping his arms around me tightly as I cried into his shoulder.

“I know.” He whispered. “I know.” Leaning his head against mine, Eliot held me as I cried. “I’m sorry.” I pulled away, wiping my cheeks as I gazed at Eliot.

“no you’re not.” I said softly. “You’re not because if you hadn’t put yourself on the line, Sophie and Parker would have been caught. Nate would have had to abort and hardison would only have half a drive.” Eliot watched me carefully as I reached up to play with his hair. “And I would have had to go back in there to plant the transmitter that would allow Hardison to access it remotely. All running a higher risk than the one we took.” Letting my head fall against his shoulder, I hugged Eliot tightly. “I’m sorry for going off on you.”

“don’t be.” Eliot chuckled. “You have every reason to worry about me just like I have every reason to worry about you.” I pulled back to look at him.

“you worry about me?” I asked. Eliot nodded, kissing my nose.

“all the time.” He responded. “It goes both ways you know.” I chuckled and Eliot smiled. “Besides it’s fun to see the looks on their faces when you do that.” Leaning into him again, I sighed as he rubbed my arm.

“so you want me to keep doing that?” I asked, closing my eyes and savoring the moment.

“yes please.” Eliot laughed.

“will do.” I agreed as he pulled me tight.

[thegeeksideofsr]

What do you want?

Ford! Reader

A/n: I am alive!! I know I haven't posted a story in almost a year, but I managed this one! I have some ideas to pull out of my head but it might take a while. Thank you to everyone who has been enjoying and supporting my stories. You have no idea how much it mean to me.

cw: Beaten up Eliot, a client in a bad relationship

The end of the day finally came. A day of dealing with screwed up supply orders, a chef being cut so badly they had to go to the hospital, and a dead car battery needing to be jumped by a coworker, it was finally time to go home.

So when the last door was locked, and the car was leaving the lot, I could finally relax and not have to wait for another shoe to drop.

I lock my car in the driveway, and dragged my self to my apartment door, locking it behind me, then kick my shoes of by the door.

I drop my purse the side table and take off my coat to hang on it's hook, shaking of the rain that started on the ride home, before head to my bedroom to get a change of clothes before I take a long, hot shower to wash the day away.

Once I'm done and dressed in comfy clothes, I head to the kitchen. I fill my water kettle, then place it on a burner to heat.

I turn to look through the fridge, then the cupboards, then the fridge again for something to snack on, but nothing seems to spark my interest, even though I can't remember when I last ate, so I decide on something simple.

I pull out some of the grapes I had in there and some cheese slices. I grab a box of crackers then begin making a small stack of cracker, cheese, and a grape. I pop the stack in my mouth as the kettle begins to whistle.

I turn off the burner, then grab my favorite mug and tea, and pour the hot water, enjoying the smell waft through the room.

I continue eating in peaceful silence while my tea steeps.

A knock on the door breaks the quiet.

I turn to check the time on the clock. 12:09. Who in the world could be at the door at this time of night. They should be in bed asleep, hell, I should be in bed.

I walk over to the door, stepping around my shoes. I look through the peephole to see Eliot soaking wet in a dark jacket and knit hat, and face swollen and bruised.

I step back from the door unlocking it it quickly before I opened it.

"Eliot? What the hell happened? You look like you got his by a buss."

He blinks. Then shakes his head.

"More like a army." He chuckles, then gestures to his head. "Probable concussion. I shouldn't be alone right now, and thought maybe I could spend a few hours with you?"

"Eliot, what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be in a hospital resting?"

" I don't do hospitals."

I sigh, grab his hand to pull him inside, close the door behind us, and drag him to the living room.

"Do you need anything? Ice? Food?"

He shakes his head gently as he sits on the couch, leaning his head back to rest on the back of the couch. I sit of the coffee table in front of him, a hand resting in his knee.

"Eliot, when was the last time you ate?"

He's quite for a moment, then shrugs.

" Right," I sigh as I stand, holding a hind out for him to take, " I'm gonna make you something to eat, and I do expect you to eat it, then you are going to get some rest. Here on the couch, or the spare room, your choice."

He places his hand in mine and I pull him to his feet, then lead him to the kitchen, making him sit at the small table in the corner.

"Sit here. I want to keep an eye on you."

I don't give him time to protest before moving about the kitchen, and begin pulling out ingredients for a grilled cheese from the fridge and cupboard, setting them on the counter. Getting my favorite pan from is hanging spot, and placing it on the stove.

I slice some cheese and butter two slices of rye bread, then place the cheese down on one slice, and the second piece on top. I place the sandwich on the pan and ignite the stove, turning it to low.

I let it cook while I mix up a mug of tea for Eliot. Getting it just right before placing it in front of him.

I smile at him, then turn back to the stove and flip the grill cheese over, the pan sizzling as the butter hits the pan.

I turn back to face Eliot sitting at the table. His hands wrapped around the mug, eyes closed. I take in his appearance, one eye is swollen shut, and a bruise blooms on his cheek.

I turn back to the stove and shut off the stove and place the sandwich on a plate.

"Eliot, what happened?" I ask, as I walk to table and set the plate in front of him.

He looks at me, then let's out a sigh and begins telling me in between bites about the latest job, helping a young mom leave her abusive husband, who had ties to some powerful people. And they had kidnapped the woman's little boy, and he and Parker went to get him.

"Was getting beaten to a pulp part of the plan?" I ask him as I take his hand in mine.

"I can take the punishment." He squeezes my hand slightly. "It was my job to retrieve her kid. It's what I do."

We sit in silence, hand in hand, until he grumbles.

"I like your way of distracting guards much better." He rasps.

"Me too," I smile. "Not as painful."

" I don't think Nate would agree." He chuckles.

" My dad knows I am a grown woman, and can do want I want. Besides, I saved that job."

"Yes, you did."

A long moment passes before I speak.

" You haven't come around since that job." I rub his knuckles, focused on a small scar near his ring finger.

" I've been 'round. We've seen each other -"

" Yes, but-" I interrupt, then hesitate.

"But what?"

I take a deep breath.

"But you haven't been here." I gesture to my apartment as I stress the last word. "You haven't come over to cook together, or watch a movie, or listen to me rant about co-owning a restaurant. You have barely looked me in the eye since then.

"And I know you guys have jobs, and that the world doesn't revolve around me, but we kissed, El. Once here, in my kitchen, and again on that job. And I would do it again if you wanted to."

I take another breath after my small rant at him. He still just sits, in his chair, Stoick as ever.

I let my body deflate at his silence. I release his hand, then stand up and head to the stove and to the pan I left there, now cool enough to handle.

I turn on the water and soap the sponge. I wash the pan, then set it in the drying rack. I wash the other items I used, that add them to the dryer.

"I don't want to mess things up. I don't want to mess with the team, or you." He explains. "I haven't had anything serious in a long time."

"You're serious about me?"

"As a heart attack," his voice has a laugh behind it, but then his tone changes. "But I don't think Nate would approve."

I turn to look at him. He's looking at the table, picking at his fingertips.

"What does my dad and his approval have to do with you and I?"

"He knows me," He sighs out. "He knows some of my past and-"

He stops, looking away from me.

"Eliot I don't care about your past. With women or the jobs you've taken. I am much more interested in a future. If that's what you want."

We sit there in near defining silence.

"Eliot what do you want?"

He finally looks at me, his face full of emotions.

"You." He grumbles. " For as long as you'll have me."

"You have me." I whisper.

He takes a deep breath, nods to him self, then places his hand on the table and stands up.

He rounds the table towards me, his steps full of purpose.

He walks up to me, his body is close enough to mine that I can feel the heat radiating from him.

"Will you, Miss Ford, go on a date with me?" He whispers.

"Yes," I whisper back.

"Can I kiss you?"

I nod.

He cups my face in his hands, leans in and presses a sweet kiss to my lips.

******************

Eliot Spencer Tag list

@spencereliotwinchester @fictional-hooman @skyeofbees @kimberkingrivers

[security-chief-odo]

The Fake Dating Job

Eliot Spencer (Leverage) x Reader

Description: Your sister's wedding is coming up and you already told her you had a date. The only problem is you don't. With none of the rest of your team available, your only option is to bring Eliot Spencer, who you just happen to be madly in love with.

Word Count: 1.2k

• • •

It is a bitter cold day out and you can still feel the chill down your spine as you enter the bar. You’re just happy to be in from the cold when Nate waves you over to the bar where he’s sat.

Nate hands you an envelope. “You get your mail delivered here?”

You shrug, “Well, I’m not in the habit of giving out my own address – especially not to my family.” Nate raises an eyebrow at your addition, clearly looking for you to elaborate. “It’s my sister’s wedding invitation. I’m a bridesmaid, but I honestly don’t even want to go.”

“Then why’d you accept?”

“Well at the time, I didn’t know one of the other bridesmaids would be bringing my ex, who was a total dick.”

“Ah.” He nods his head.

“Yeah and when my sister asked if it would be ok, I may or may not have told her ‘yes because I have my own date to bring”, which I don’t.” You let out a sigh, “Any shot I could talk you into being my pretend boyfriend?”

“If you’re trying to make your family think you’re doing fine, I don’t think bringing someone your father’s age will do the job.”

“Fair point, but I don’t exactly have an expansive social group to ask.” You let your head fall into your hands, “I’ll figure it out. Thanks for listening to me complain.”

“Anytime y/n.” He returns to nursing his drink as you head up to the loft to see if maybe you could talk one of the others into accompanying you.

Upstairs you find Hardison and Parker sitting together. They were very clearly bickering before you entered the room and it has devolved into childish mocking and light shoving. Hardison is holding his keys out of Parker’s reach. You can’t help but chuckle at the scene before you.

“Hey, y/n, can you tell Hardison I’m a perfectly fine driver?”

“Y/n, would you tell Parker that “perfectly fine drivers” don’t give their team whiplash every time they’re behind the wheel?” Hardison looks at you pleadingly.

Putting your hands up, you reply, “I’m not getting in the middle of this one, but I actually came up here for a reason”

Despite their previous focus on their argument, all disagreement seemed to be dropped now that there was a new person and a point of conversation. Hardison put the keys in his pocket and both turned their attention to you.

“So my sister’s wedding is coming up and I told her I had a date, but the problem is I really don’t.”

“Then why would you say you did?” Parker chimed in.

“Well I found out one of the bridesmaids is bringing my shitty ex boyfriend and I didn’t want them to think I was still into him – which I’m not, he’s the worst. I don’t know, I guess I want my family to think I’m doing well and my ex to know I’m better off without him.”

“But now they’re going to know the truth.” Parker nodded along.

“Well, not exactly. I came up here to ask if maybe you would be my fake girlfriend for the wedding.”

Before Parker had a moment to respond Hardison incredulously replied, “Wait, you’re asking her first? You think your family is going to like Parker more than they’d like me? I thought your mom loved me?”

Hardison had been with you when you ran into your mom in the city several months back and she had invited you both out to lunch.

“She did, but that’s kind of the problem, you’re the only one here who has met my mom, and we’d have to do a lot more work to convince them. And all I told them about my “new partner” is that we met at a coffee shop.”

“So that pulls me out of the race.”

“Exactly, so Parker will you be my fake girlfriend?” You hold out the invitation to her.

“Sure,” she starts reading through the invitation, “Wait, it's in two weeks?”

“Yeah I know it’s short notice but I kinda put off giving her an address for the invite and –”

Parker cuts you off, “It’s not that. It’s just that Hardison and I will be going to a convention out of town that weekend for one of his video games. I won’t be able to make it.”

“Fuck” you let out a groan.

“Why don’t you ask Eliot?” Parker suggests. This was something you were hoping to avoid. You’ve been head over heels for Eliot for probably a year. Maybe it would be better to go alone and just tell your family a different lie about a fake breakup from your fake partner.

Hardison has known all about your crush for months and the moment you look at him a knowing grin crosses his face, “Yeah, why don’t you ask Eliot?”

“You know damn well why that’s a bad idea.”

Parker glances confused between the two of you. “Well who are you bringing then? Nate?”

“He said no.”

“So you asked Nate before you asked me?” Hardison replies in mock offense. You roll your eyes at his theatrics.

“What about Sophie?” Parker adds.

“The goal is for my family not to focus too much on me and my date, and I’m pretty sure she would have the exact opposite agenda.”

Parker smiles a little at your remark. “That’s a fair point.”

“Then I think you’re gonna have to ask Eliot.” Hardison replies just a little too smug.

Just then you hear the door close behind you. “Ask Eliot what?”

Of course he walked in just in time to hear his own name. “It’s nothing.” You glare at Hardison as both he and Parker get up and leave the room to avoid this awkward conversation.

“Aw come on sweetheart. Don’t be like that.” He plops down into the chair next to you and gestures to the door that the other two just walked through “You know they’ll tell me if you don’t.”

You think about it for a moment as he stares at you with a lopsided grin. “Fine,” you sigh, “I need a date for my sister’s wedding in two weeks because my shitty ex will be there. You don’t have to go though, I’m sure I’ll figure som–”

Eliot cuts you off. “Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes, I’ll be your date to your sister’s wedding”

“You really don’t have to Eliot. My family can be a lot and you would have to pretend to be my boyfriend all night and for the rehearsal dinner. I can’t ask that of you.”

“I don’t mind.” He adds with a smile.

You. Are. So. Fucked.

Just this conversation already had you nervous and your heart racing. You aren’t prepared to spend a whole weekend with Eliot. Not to mention the whole pretending to date part of it all, while also trying not to give away your feelings to Eliot. This man and his stupid fucking smile will be the death of you.

• • •

Let me know if you want to be added to the series taglist for this one!

Read Chapter 2 here!

[spencereliotwinchester]

I have so many fucking Eliot Spencer feelings

Headcanons: Taking care of each other when you are hurt (Eliot Spencer)

Headcanon Prompts: Taking care of them when they are hurt + Them taking care of you when you are hurt.

Requested By: @spuffyfan394

Pairing: Eliot Spencer x Gn!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of injuries/wounds, blood, pain, stitches, etc.

-

Taking care of him:

Eliot gets hurt a lot, like A LOT.

Pretty much on every con he's a part of.

So he is used to having to take care of his own injures.

When you joined the crew, before and after the two of you began dating, you would insist on helping him when he was hurt.

He wasn't used to someone trying so hard to help him, and wanting to, that it made him feel vulnerable in a way.

At first (before you were in a relationship) you just tried to be helpful. Bringing him bandages, cleaning solutions, bringing him stuff when he was having difficulty walking or getting places.

You never treat him like a child, or like he can't handle the pain. Which he appreciates, because he is not one to be coddled.

That being said, he does love when you are gentle with him, because you do not want to add to his pain.

Once you were in a relationship, and more comfortable physically, that is when you started to be more proactive in helping him when he was hurt.

You would change the bandages that were more difficult for him to reach. You'd help him clean off an blood after an injury. You'd tie back his hair if he was too hurt to mess with it.

You would give him massages when he was sore, had pulled muscles, or was suffering from his chronic pain from past injuries.

Sometimes you insist on running him a hot bath to soak in after a rough job.

He enjoys these baths, even if you make it a bubble bath, though he insists you never tell Hardison he enjoys a nice hot bath. (Because we all know Hardison would have a field day with this and probably by him rubber ducks just to piss him off)

You learned how to take care of serious wounds after you joined the team, including doing stitches. For those jobs when things go very wrong.

The first time you had to help Eliot with a knife wound, he watched you stare intensely at the wound stitching it up.

You were delicate enough not to add any needless pain, but you were thorough. He was impressed, and touched at your need to help him.

Later he asked you how you learned to do stitches, and you told him you learned from an old "acquaintance" who owed you a favor.

When he asked why you learned, you told him you learned for moments like this.

You learned in case he ever needed you.

This only made Eliot love you all the more.

Taking care of you:

Fortunately, you do not get hurt nearly as often as Eliot does.

But when you do get hurt, Eliot becomes protective and your own personal nurse.

He also always feels guilty when you get hurt, as he thinks he should have protected you - even in situations no one could have stopped.

You learned fairly early on that words only ease his guilt somewhat.

What helps him more, is you allowing him to help you.

Bandaging you up when needed, giving you proper medications or treatments. Just letting him help you recover.

He can over react a little, not really letting you do much.

Making you too much food to make you feel better, watching your every move to make sure you don't strain yourself.

And if the tam tries to get you back in a con too early? Uh-uh, he wont let that slide.

Eliot also tries is best to distract you from any pain you might be in. He will tell you a story, or jokes to make you laugh or smile.

He is surprisingly gentle with his care, as he never wants to be the one to cause you pain.

Eliot will softly kiss your bandages, and kiss your forehead/temple, and hands, if you are hurting.

He also draws you hot baths, using your favorite oils, salts or bath bombs. He will even light a couple candles for you.

And he always asks if you want him to join you; mostly as a joke, but also not really.

If you are seriously hurt, he will sit outside the bath with you, helping you, gently cleaning your arms and hair, something you have done for him a dozen times before.

Also, just putting this in here - anyone who hurt you, will definitely live to regret it.

xx

General Taglist: @criminaly-supernatural, @imaginesfire, @onuen, @witchygagirl, @alexxavicry

Leverage/Eliot Taglists: @groovy-lady, @aaannabbanana, @peoniarose, @fablesrose, @spuffyfan394, @malindacath, @winnifredburkleismyhero, @that-marvel-simp, @gatefleet, @bthtallmadge2

[eat-limes-bitches]

Eat-Limes-Bitches’ Bucky Barnes One Shot Masterlist

All of my Bucky x One Shots can be found here!

Snowfall Kind of Love -One Shot- (fluff)

Based on the song Snowfall by Ingrid Michaelson: A quiet snowy evening in the avengers compound with two hopeless romantics.

Nothing I've Ever Known -One Shot- (fluff)

Based on the song Nothing I've Ever Known by Bryan Adams: Falling in love and living in peace is nothing Bucky's ever known.

Let Me Take Care of You -One Shot- (angst, fluff)

When an injury keeps Bucky from sleeping, sometimes he need someone to take care of him so he can start to feel better.  This is for the words written by the sea writing challenge.

Rescue Me -One Shot-  (angst, fluff)

Based on the song Rescue by  Lauren Daigle: Even heroes need rescuing from their own minds sometimes.

What Would I do Without You -One Shot- (fluff)

Based on the song What Would I Do Without You by Drew Holcomb and the Neighbors: One quiet morning, Bucky reflects on his love for you and decides to tell you about it.

Do You Notice -One Shot-  (angst, fluff)

Based on the song Please Notice by Christian Leave: When a mission goes wrong and Y/N ends up in the hospital, feelings are revealed and healing begins.

Skin Care and Snuggles -One Shot- (fluff)

When the need for cuddles ends up with Bucky partaking in the readers' skin care routine, fluff follows close behind.

I Guess I’m In Love -One Shot- (fluff)

Based on the song I Guess I’m In Love by  Clinton Kane:  Bucky decided it was now or never to tell her how he really feels.

Night Check -One Shot- (fluff)

A quiet night seemed like a good time for the two boys to come to an understanding.

Bring it on Home -One Shot- (fluff)

Y/N wants to surprise Bucky by coming home early

I Will Always Come When You Call -One Shot-  (angst, fluff)

When reader accidentally calls Bucky, he comes running to find out what’s wrong.

Whispers on the Wind -One Shot- (maybe more idk)  (angst, fluff)

The wind will whisper messages for those who need it the most

A Sky Full of Ghosts -One Shot-  (angst, fluff)

“Did- did I ever tell you that the sky is full of ghosts?” “No, no you didn’t darling. What does that mean?”

Be Brave -One Shot- (Angst, fluff)

On a cold lonely night, Bucky finds something he never expected to.

          -Take a Chance (part 2 to Be Brave)

            Who knew one look could calm the raging storm of his mind.

         - Nowhere Else I’d Rather Be (part 3 to Be Brave)

           Soft blues and sunsets make for the perfect wedding.

Sanctuary -One Shot- (fluff)

We all need a safe place to rest, even when some of us don't believe it

Agape -One Shot- (Angst, fluff)

AGAPE 1. noun: selfless love of one person for another

Love After War -One Shot- (Angst, fluff)

The mind has a way of playing tricks on you, images you thought to be real are just a figment of your past. But how to get back to the present?

Coming Home -One Shot- (ANGST, fluff) 

 “Falling for you was like nothing I imagined.” Her voice started to give out as the door to the safe house burst open, “It was coming home.”

Attitude Adjustment -One Shot- (angst, Fluff)

Pain affects everyone. Even 106-year-old assassins

Not Allowed To Die -One Shot- (Angst)

We never know how much time we have left and fate is a cruel mistress. We can only make the best of the time we have left

Southern Cookin’ -One Shot- (Fluff, touch of angst)

When Bucky and Sam get stranded in a Storm, they go to the nearest place they can, Bucky’s country home, but what happens when Walker shows up at the front door too?

[sugarbell]

From the Batfam x Neglected Batsis Reader Universe.

Read First!

Age List:

Alfred: Undying

Bruce Wayne: 45

Barbara Gordon: 26

Dick Grayson: 24

Harry Osborn: 24

Jason Todd: 22 (he’s been drinking for way longer)

Tim Drake: 20

Stephanie Brown: 20

Cass Cain: 19

Lana Lang: 17-18

Damian Wayne: 16.

Clearups: This may become a yandere/dark fic story in the future, and it may not, I’m not sure yet.

The However be warned, this fic may possibly contain the following:

Yandere

Gore

Noncon

Dubcon

Death

Blood

Murder

Suicide

Stepcest

Smut

Underage Drinking

Underage Romantic Relationships With Adult Characters

-a lot more I can’t think of right now, but if any of this stuff deters you than you might wanna just skip this story. For those of you who it doesn’t deter, and if this is your kind of thing then please enjoy!-

(Also no, mc is not actually Lana Lang from the DC Comics, but I did use her name because I thought it was ✨pretty✨)

Also, mc is Japanese-American. She has a white mom, and a Japanese father. She has freckles, long dark hair, a petite and short build, medium-small sized breasts, pinkish-red lips, and slender doe eyes. If it bothers you than again, you might want to skip this story.

Harry Osborn, let’s just say him and OsCorp are in DC in Gotham instead if Marvel, okay?

Cast List?

Alfred: Michael Gough

Bruce Wayne: Christian Bale

Eleanor Joy-Lang: Adelaide Kane

Barbara Gordon: Megan West

Dick Grayson: Steven R, McQueen

Jason Todd: Jacob Elordi

Harry Osborn: Dane Dehaan

Tim Drake: Timothee Chalamet

Stephanie Brown: Chloe Grace Moretz

Lana Lang: ???

Damian Wayne: Aidan Gallagher

Also, I will die with my grammatical errors. Some I may correct if I find the time, but a lot I probably won’t because I’m too busy writing.

This page will update regularly, and you can use it as a sort of reference guide just to make sure that you don’t get confused with certain characters, (for instance, Harry) that may belong in other universes but are being moved here. Some characters hero names may be changed in order to fit the story.

(For example, Black Canary. Just for the sake of the story, I’m changing her hero name to “Songbird.” In this universe, it always has been, always will be. Reason for this is because reader’s hero name will be Red Canary, however, reader isn’t Black Canary’s protégé or anything. They may know each other later on, they may not.)

—I think that’s about it! Enjoy!—