#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.

[callsignmagnolia]

Perhaps one of the most awkward things about being shoulder deep in a fandom but pretending to be a well adjusted adult is when you are chatting with someone and they bring up a specific scene from said fandom and you refer to aspects of said scene with hyper detail that no one who hasn’t been consuming mass amounts of fanfic would ever say.

[thegeeksideofsr]

Positive

Summary: Eliot finds a positive pregnancy test in the bathroom after getting home late from a job.

A/n: I know this gif is from season one and he's holding a thumb drive, but it fits the story kinda. El may be a little out of character, but I tried. Enjoy!

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

It's been two weeks since I took the test. The positive symbol staring back at me.

It's in a drawer of the bathroom now. Buried under hair brushes, hair products, and a box of unopened condoms.

The days seem to go by in a blur. Going through the motions of survival while trying to come to terms with the fact that I'm pregnant.

Man, that's weird. My dad might have a heart attack. He nearly had one when he found out about Eliot and I. He was so angry at first, but he's been getting better about it.

I called Alice once the timer went off. She came over and held me while I cried.

She, Kate, and Deklan have practically put me on maternity leave six months early. They all are so supportive and wonderful, but the ones I want to be here and supporting me aren't.

I've had time to come to terms with it. It's still strange to know I'm carrying a baby, but I want them, even if I'm not completely ready. They are going to be amazing.

This morning I looked up some midwives in the area, found one, and gave them a call for an appointment.

I know the general time it happened, but I still want to be sure.

Once the appointment was made, I tucked into the couch to watch a movie. Under the warm blanket, and with the emotions from the last three days taking over, I drift of to the white noise of the movie.

A hand caressing my face, and a kiss to my forehead wakes me up.

Moving slightly, and opening my eyes a little, a form next to the couch comes into blurry view.

"Hey there, sweetheart," Eliot whispers.

"Please tell me you're really here, and I'm not dreaming again."

"I'm here. And I ain't planning to go anywhere any time soon."

I pull myself up, and finally look at him clearly.

He looks tired, and his hair is a little shorter, but he's still my Eliot.

I untangle my self from my blanket and launch into his arms, wrapping my arms around his shoulders and legs around his waist, my face pressed to his shoulder.

He catches me with ease. He tucks his face into my neck, his own arms wrap around my ribs and waist as we hold onto each other.

"I love you," he whispers, his scruff harsh against my skin.

"I love you, too."

With those few words the dam breaks.

I begin to sob, uncontrollably as he holds me.

"I missed you so much, darlin'. I got you."

I cry harder at his words, hoping that he won't change his mind when he finds out about the baby.

A deep breath to calm down, triggers a reaction I wasn't expecting.

I pull away from him, bringing a hand to cover my mouth and nose.

"What?"He asks, concern written across his face. "What is it?"

"You smell," I sob out.

He chuckles as my comment as he wipes tears from my cheek.

"I know. I need a shower, and some sleep."

I nob and take a few more deep breaths to calm down.

He leans back to his feet, and stand up. He holds a hand out to me, I take it, and he gently pulls me to my feet, then leads me to the bedroom.

I sit on the bed, legs tucked up under me, watching him as he strips, tossing his clothes in the hamper.

Nothing seems different. No new injuries or scars. Just a huge bruise, going from his shoulder, down his back to his ribs.

"What happened?" I ask. "To cause the bruises. Those aren't from a fight."

"Parker and I went up to the summit of this mountain, looking for a guy who got lost up there. We ended up falling into the same hole he did. We got lucky though."

"He didn't make it, did he?"

"No. It was deliberate. We got the guy that did it, though."

"That's good."

Clad in just his underwear he walks to bathroom, leaving me on the bed. The water comes on a moment later.

He comes back to the door way, eyebrow quirked and smirk.

"Wanna join me?" He ask.

"Absolutely."

I jump up and strip as I head to the bathroom, leaving a trail behind, gaining a wicked chuckle from Eliot.

We climb in the shower, the hot water soothing. We both wash up, washing the others hair, and each other, before rinsing off, and enjoying being together again.

I watch as he stands under the stream, washing the stress away, wondering how I'm going to tell him about the baby. Then his gaze turns to me.

"What are you thinking about?" He asks, moving a strand of wet hair from my face.

"Huh?"

"You have that look on your face. Like there's somthin' botherin' you."

"I'm fine, El. It can wait."

"So there is somethin' on your mind."

"Yes. But it can wait until you are rested and settled back in."

"You sure?"

"I'm sure."

He doesn't look convinced. I try changing the subject by kissing him, which works wonders. Kisses always distracts him.

He leans into the kiss, arms wrapping around me and pulling my body flush with his.

We both get lost in each other. Hands travel as we reacquaint ourselves with each other, slowly building up to a long awaited reunion.

It's bliss. Until, his hand came to my breasts and squeezed slightly. No more then he had ever done before, but this time it hurt so much that it pulls a gasp and whimper from me.

I pull away from him completely, stepping back and wrapping my arms around my chest.

I close my eyes, not wanting to look at him.

"Baby. What was that? Did I hurt you?"

His voice is so soft, barely audible over the water.

"No. Just surprised me."

"That was more then surprise. I know how you sound surprised when I touch you, and when your hurt, and that sounded like hurt."

He closes the gap between us, his hands coming up to hold my head. He gently turns my head to look at him.

His brows are knit together, and eye round with worry.

"What happened?" He asks again.

"Nothing."

I pull my head from his hands, and leave the shower, grabbing my towel from the rack, wrapping it around me, and leaving the bathroom, latching the door behind me.

Pov Switch

Eliot sighs as the door clicks closed.

He turns and shuts the water off, then climbs out of the shower, and grabs a towel from the closet. He dries off, then wraps the towel around his waist, then rings his hair out over the tub, then starts brushing his hair out.

He racks his brain for any reason that she might be acting this way.

She was fine when they left for San Lorenzo, and the quick visit when they got state side. She knew that if something happened she could call, but she didn't.

And she never minded when he touched her, normaly she encouraged it. But this time, she flinched like it hurt. Yes her breasts get tender during PMS, but not this bad.

Nothing was wrong. Nothing he knows about.

He lets out a low growl, as he slams his brush down on the counter.

He has to take care of his hair, or it with become a fluffy rats nest.

He digs through the drawers, searching for his things, finding them after taking half of the drawers contents out. He sets what he needs on the counter, then starts replacing what he took out.

As he shoves them back in, he uncovers a piece of plastic, caught up with hair ties and combs. He picks it up to inspect it. White, with a pink cap, and on one side, a small screen with the word positive on the display.

The world stops, and his heart drops.

That would explain it. The tenderness, the odd smell sensitivity, and the question dodging.

She's pregnant. With his baby.

He stands on shaky legs, his hand shakes as well. His gaze holding fast to the test in his hand.

A baby. She is pregnant with his baby. And he is torn.

She would be a good mother, calm and sweet, but stern and fierce when needed.

But him? He was damaged and dangerous. His job was to hit people and lie. But at least Moroe was gone. One shadow of his past gone.

He sets the test of the counter to wash his hands from the trash, then grabs it again and opens the door.

He finds the woman who holds his heart, and now mother of his child, sitting on the bed, clad in one of his shirts as the brushes her own hair out.

"When did you find out?" He asks.

"What?" She looks up at him, looking like a dear caught in headlights.

He holds the test up to show her. Her eye move from his face to his hand, blood draining from he face.

"How did you find that?"

"Was lookin' for my hair stuff, found this while puttin' stuff back. Baby, when did you find out?"

Her eyes well up and flutter, her chin quivers.

Eliot crosses the room to sit next to her on the bed.

"Talk to me, please," he begs.

"Two weeks ago," she says, and the dam breaks.

His heart drops. Two weeks, and she didn't call.

"Why didn't you call me? You should have called me."

"You were on a job. I didn't want to distract or stress you out even more."

He sighs and pulls her into his chest, holding her head as she sobs.

"It's okay," he whispers. " It's gonna be okay. I promise. Just breathe."

"I'm sorry, Eliot," she sobs out. "I was gonna tell you, but I wanted to wait for the right moment."

"It's okay," he whispers. "Come on."

He gently pulls her with him to lay down on the bed, her head resting over his heart, their arms wrap around each other, her breathing slowly calms.

"Do you even want kids, Eliot?" She murmurs.

He squeezes her, the rolls her onto her side or lean over her, hand caressing her face.

" I never thought about it. Not before you." He starts. "I have never had the kind of life that would allow kids. I've done things that I'm not proud of, and-" he hesitates.

"What?"

"Our last job, the one that took us out of the country."

She nods.

"You got so distant. I thought you were going to end things between us. You all kept me in the dark."

"I'm sorry, darlin'. We just wanted to keep you safe. I think that is the only thing about you that your dad and I can agree on."

She huffs a laugh.

"After we broke Nate out of prison," he starts. "A woman came, and she black mailed us to take down a crime lord. Said we had to or she would kill us, and you. I had to protect you from her, and him."

"Him?"

He breaks eye contact.

"I used to work for him. I did terrible things for him. I got out eventually, was lost for while. Then got hired for a job, and met Nate," he looks back to her. " And you."

She smiles.

"I don't deserve to be a father," he starts. "To have anything so pure and innocent. But I'm selfish. I do want them. Do you?"

Her body relaxes as she nods, a new wave of tears begin to fall from her eyes.

"You really want this?" She asks.

"Yes."

POV Switch

Relieve floods me.

He want the baby. He's not leaving

He looks happy, a smile making his eye crinkle, and dimples appear, tears slide down his cheeks.

I bring my hand to his face, taking my turn to wipe the tears away.

"We're having a baby," he whispers.

"We're having a baby."

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

[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

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

[archerarchives]

Winner Takes it All

Slater x Fem Reader x Sterling Archer

Your ex-husband isn't thrilled to hear about your latest romantic connection.

(It's more about Slater than Archer.)

Drama, Smut, Comedy, Story-Driven.

TWs: !!Smut!! And maybe a lil angst, jealousy, physical violence, drunk sex, long read, not proofread, this is not a 3-way fic, sorry! They're just both gettin' bounced on!

You've just moved cities for a new, low-profile job with a well-known spy agency, ISIS. It's a change of scenery where you can still use the specialized skills you've honed over the years at your old job. The CIA was a prolific time in your career, but with your divorce newly finalized after a long, messy process, you're ready to uproot your life and start over somewhere.

Finding this job was something of fate in itself. You were drinking your thoughts away in a shabby pub on a mission in Ireland when a man, just as wasted as you, came crashing through the door, spouting off at the mouth about "top secret agent" this, "classified mission" that. Even at your drunkest, you've never compromised yourself in such a way. All's well, though, as it ended with a job offer and a very interesting hook-up.

Try as you may, you can't escape the memories of that first sexual rendezvous after a lengthy legal battle. Your cheeks redden with warmth as you remember the way he bent you over, sliding his hands up your spine as he guided your hips against his waist.

You giggle to yourself as your stomach flips. All this time seeing him in a professional setting feels silly, considering his drunken personality when you first met him. You're certainly not in love, nor are you looking for it. It's just nice to explore without moral compromise.

Working with ISIS is a dream, not to mention getting to step out with Archer to fuck in a supply closet nearly hourly. The scandal of sneaking around only adds to the fun.

Your marriage was just as passionate for years, but with that came an explosiveness that working together at the CIA ultimately killed. No time apart, you smothered each other until it felt like there weren't any feelings to save.

Keeping things light with Archer has been easy, considering if he's not fucking you, then he's definitely off fucking someone else. Often other members of the agency. It is vehemently not love, and you love that.

One day, after months of casual hookups, Archer mentions something about taking you to dinner. An awkward silence falls over the two of you as you lie naked in his bed. "It's not that I don't want to, I just," you search hard for your next words.

"Oh, no. It's fine. I just figured I owed you after, you know, all this." He gestures to your whole body.

"You don't owe me anything, handsome. It's a pretty equal exchange if you ask me." You wink at him, slipping away from his possessive grip so you can get dressed.

"By the way, don't tell Mother I told you, but we've got some CIA agents coming in on Monday. I'm not sure what for. Apparently, none of us are supposed to know." Archer's clearly looking for any way to change the subject after his invite went wrong.

"CIA? Did you happen to get their names?" You ask, with a lump in your throat.

"No, but they can't be much worse than those other two dick heads." Archer settles back against his headboard, covered by nothing but blankets up to his waist. His chiseled body shines in the sunlight like a painting. You almost hesitate to leave, but after that awkward date denial, you want to get far, far away. It's not all his fault, he has no idea about your situation.

"Sounds like fun. I'll see you there, princess." You chuckle, lingering in the doorway.

"For the last time, it's Duchess. And we don't get to choose our code names!" His spiral makes you laugh as you wave goodbye and head out his bedroom door. His valet, an elderly man called Woodhouse, always meets you at the door to send you off. You smile warmly at him as you make your way to your car.

~~~Monday Morning

"Good morning, Pam," you yawn, stepping off the elevator. She waves a tired hello to you and you make your way toward your office. After a small window of time, Archer knocks at your door, right on schedule. You both slip down the hall and meet up in one of your trusty 'spots.' You've opted for the supply closet yet again.

Archer pulls you inside with him, hungrily grabbing at your breasts and roughly fidgeting with your buttoned-up blouse. You let out a giggle, a bit louder than you mean to, but you quickly quiet back down. He grins at the sight of your breasts pressed firmly against his chest.

"Oh, my God," he breathes into your neck, positioning himself right against you. "I'll never get tired of this." He slips inside of you with ease. A low, breathy moan escapes his lips as he reaches his hilt. From there, he's thrusting into you rhythmically, gripping your hips while you prop yourself against the shelves of dusty cleaning products.

Archer's fingertips dig into your skin as he lifts you off the ground for a better angle. Each delicate moan that escapes your lips is met with a sensual sound of his own or a passionate kiss on your lips to silence you. He places a firm, but gentle hand around your neck as he picks up his pace.

"Harder," you whisper against his broad chest and he's happy to oblige. At this point, you hardly care what can and can't be heard outside the closet. "Harder." And he complies, slamming into you with a force that'd tell a stranger he must hate you.

A knot begins to form in your stomach, growing tighter as you near your orgasm. He's moaning your name into your ear, sending your eyes rolling back every time he opens his mouth. You're doing all you can to keep it together, and just when you finally give, he pulls out and finishes on your chest, careful to keep aim on your exposed skin.

Your blue-eyed hookup helps you clean up and you realize there's yet another awkward silence as he lingers for a little longer than usual in the closet, just looking at you. "Wow," he sighs.

"You weren't too bad yourself, handsome," you wink, playfully tapping his chest with your palm. Once you've both steadied your breathing, he leaves first, scoping out the hallway, careful to give a cough or some sort of signal if someone's around. It's silent. You give it a few minutes and then you step out as well.

"Y/N!" A painfully familiar voice calls your name from the opposite end of the otherwise empty hallway. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Slater?" You knew it, you just wanted to believe it could've been anyone else. "Are you asking what I'm doing or what I'm doing here?"

"Well," he's stumped. "Both, I guess. Did you just fuck Archer in that closet?" He sounds equal parts disturbed and livid.

"I work here now. And that's really none of your business anymore." You cross your arms defensively.

"Trust me, Y/N, you don't want-"

"Stop telling me what I do and don't want. Don't we have a meeting or something?" You stomp off, not allowing his ability to set you off cost you this new job.

Archer and the other agents have already been in the meeting. You're late and if you weren't on Malory's good side, you know she'd have something to say about it. Instead, she just gives you a sharp look, and you take the warning for the golden ticket it is. You take a quiet seat near the group and tune into whatever the other CIA agent is explaining.

It's tedious, tiresome, and boring. Some of the staff are falling asleep while others are zoning out altogether. Archer's distracted and his disruption goes unchecked as he messes around with an Operation game.

Suddenly, the door slings open and Slater angrily crosses the floor. Most of the room falls silent, besides Archer, who is still playing with the toy. Slater reaches his desk and slaps the game out of his hands, causing others around them to gasp in surprise.

"Are you fucking my wife?" Slater yells lividly through gritted teeth, placing one hand on the desk surface to stop himself from swinging at the ISIS agent.

"What?" Archer's surprise quickly turns to amusement. "No, I'm screwing-"

"I'm not your wife anymore, Slater!" You scold from across the way. The room fills with sounds of confused shock, but no one's as wide-eyed as Archer.

"You're married to this douchebag?" Your dark-haired situationship points to Slater.

"Not anymore!" You toss your hands up defensively. "Our divorce is finalized. What Sterling and I do-" you're cut off.

"Sterling?" Slater erupts at the intimate comfortability between you and Archer. Unhinged, Slater grabs the front of Archer's suit and lands a solid punch to the face. His biceps flex intensely under his casual T-shirt as he tightens his grip for another swing.

Now Slater and Archer are in an all-out brawl. The desks of the lecture room are knocked into disarray as the two men toss each other around. Cyril and Ray both try to intervene, but it's pointless. Archer, as usual, takes nothing seriously. He's almost laughing and probably would be if he wasn't ever so slightly losing the fight.

"Enough!" Malory throws a glass of cognac so hard, it slams against the wall right between both men's heads.

"Mother!" Archer looks distressed by her close quarters warning.

"If you two don't stop this childish nonsense this very minute I'll have you both sent wherever the hell I want for treason." Her threat is grand, but it's clear she means it.

"Look, fuck you, but she'll actually do that," Archer speaks with his eyes narrowed at his rival. Slater sighs, glaring at Archer for just a moment more before finally releasing his suit jacket.

"Good," Malory relaxes, somehow already equipped with another freshly poured glass of cognac. She redirects everyone's attention back to the boring speaker from before. "Now, you were saying?"

~~~After Work, at Your House

"That's not what I'm saying!" Slater yells, an all too familiar sound. One you thought you'd gotten rid of.

"Then what are you saying?" You toss your arms up in frustration. "Because from here, it's sounding like you're telling me who I can and can't be with. We aren't married anymore!" That last sentence seems to piss him off, or at least hurt him. He closes his eyes and furrows his brows, trying to find it in himself to calm down. Something he's never tried to do before.

"I know we're not married anymore, but seriously? Him?" He shakes his head. "And why move? Why leave the CIA?"

"Are you kidding me?" You ask, utterly shocked by the question. "This is why! This tantrum you're throwing as if you haven't been enjoying your own freedoms even before the divorce was finalized!" The truth causes Slater to avert his eyes. It's true, he was living his own bachelor lifestyle quite early on in the process.

"It's just," he takes a deep breath. "Could it be anyone else?"

"You act like I'm in love with the guy." You laugh. "I'm just trying to feel something."

"Oh yeah? Does he know that?"

"Of course he does!" You knit your brows. "Have you met the guy? I'm not exactly at the top of his roster."

"His people said he hasn't strayed outside your little meetings for at least two weeks. That's like a year for him." Slater crosses his arms.

"Two weeks, huh?" You take a seat at your table. Slater sits right across from you. You do the math and realize you've only been working at ISIS for about a month.

"Two weeks. Not even Agent Kane had him down that long."

"Agent Kane? Lana? Do they have that kind of history?" You ask. It's clear to anyone that they've fucked, but you had no idea what their history entailed until Slater filled you in.

"You have no idea what this guy's about, huh?" He asks, smugly.

"I don't. And I don't care. I'm not stepping on any toes and I certainly don't owe you anything." You wrangle any corner of your face that may show discomfort, adamant to not let him know he got into your head. "I think you should go. I have work in the morning."

"Oh, I know. You and I will be working very closely for a while. Just like old times." He sounds sickly sweet as he heads for your door, like you asked. Just before he leaves, he hesitates, almost like he intends to speak, but he doesn't. He doesn't look back at you or anything. He just finally exits and a cold silence follows in his place.

"Fuck," you huff.

~~~The Next Day, in The Lecture Room

"Psst," Archer garners your attention.

"What?" You whisper and he passes you a note like you're two kids in school. It reads: 'My office, 2 PM.' You stifle the smirk blossoming on your lips. Then, before you have time to blink, the note is snatched from your hand by Slater, playing the role of the bitch teacher. After that, there are suddenly mandatory training exercises being held for certain agents at certain times. You've been lovingly gifted the time slot of 1:50 PM to 2:50 PM with Archer going right after you.

While each agent waits, you spend time at Cheryl's desk with her and Pam. A little gossip to speed things along. Pam doesn't hold back in the slightest, diving right in as soon as you sit down.

"So were you Y/N Slater or...?" Cheryl wrinkles her nose, asking a question far less invasive than Pam's.

"I kept my last name. I didn't know how to navigate that either." You shrug.

"Okay, but this divorce is recent, right?" Pam redirects the conversation.

"Recent for a divorce, sure. But we've been separated for over a year."

"A whole year of working with your ex-husband at the CIA?" The round-faced blonde raises her eyebrows.

"There's a reason I jumped at this opportunity, Pam." You tilt your head forward, widening your eyes at her. A look that says, 'Don't even ask.'

"Mrs. Slater..." Cheryl repeats to herself. "Nope, doesn't have a good ring to it."

"Sure doesn't!" You exclaim, holding up your left hand and wiggling your bare ring finger. Right on cue, Slater approaches you where you sit in front of Cheryl's desk. She and Pam both excuse themselves to eavesdrop from a few feet away.

"Ready for some assistance training Agent Y/L/N?" He asks, a bitterness already biting in his voice.

"Absolutely, Agent Slater." You give a false sense of enthusiasm. "Anything to get you out of here faster."

"Then right this way," he gestures for the elevator. The firing range is on an entirely different level, and something about the usually short lift ride is excruciatingly long today. You stand next to each other uncomfortably for a while before you finally glance over at him. He doesn't look at you, but you get a good look at his chest and crossed arms. His seemingly permanent angry expression etched lightly into his features. "Like what you see?" He asks, smirking smugly.

"Shut up," you snap, facing forward and silently scolding yourself for being so quick to nearly forget why you left him in the first place. Finally, the elevator doors open to the shooting range lobby. It's empty until you and Slater step out of the elevator. After checking your weapons and loading up on ammunition, it's time to start shooting.

You've always been a pretty solid shot. These exercises don't meet your skill. You'd do better to practice with a course, but that's not an option right now. "Two in the head, one in the chest," Slater says, and you don't think twice about what he's talking about. You fire the three bullets you were instructed to fire. This goes on for a while and you begin to think an hour of this might not be so bad.

"Oh, hey. I was thinking, why not make this a group effort and save some time?" Archer, seemingly drunk, appears in the soundproofed doorway of the shooting range.

"Agent Archer, I'm gonna have to ask you to leave." Slater smiles deviously as he shoves him back and slams the door. Once it's locked, he turns his attention to you. You missed the whole ordeal due to the quality of your ear protection. You didn't see or hear Archer's impromptu class suggestion or it's brutal rejection.

"Are we done?" You ask, assuming that's what he's come to tell you when he lifts the earmuff off your head.

"No," he shakes his head. "Your form is a little off." His comment makes you arch your brows.

"No it's not."

"Yes, it is. Here." Slater takes your arms and guides them up to point your gun at the target. With his body pressed against yours, he wraps your hands around the firearm and "shows" you the proper form. It's no different from how you were just standing, and you know that, but that's not the point. The point is, now he's flush against your body and you can feel his heartbeat in the heat radiating off his chest.

"Slater, come on. What are you doing?" You try your best to sound serious, but you fail. He takes the gun from your hand and places it on the counter before slipping off your ear protection and setting it to the side as well. You're still standing with your back to him, and he leans in to whisper.

"Why don't you show me how good your form is?" He slips his hands into your hair, pulling it back gently like a ponytail before suddenly wrapping one hand up and roughly pulling your head back so he can plant a heinous love bite on your neck. You let out a breathy moan as your eyes slip back into your head. This is why it took so long to get away. If it wasn't an argument that had you nearly throwing chairs, then it was this.

"I can't... Or rather, I don't want to."

"You don't owe him anything. He's drunk right now, probably already fucking someone else in a different tiny, filthy closet." His grip on your hair tightens. "Haven't you missed me? Just a little?" The raspy nature of his voice vibrates into his chest that's pressed up against your back. Your skin erupts into chill bumps as his grip loosens and then tightens back up again when he doesn't get an answer fast enough.

"Slater," you pull away, finally. Much to your disappointment. Listen. Regardless of Archer, you know this isn't a good idea." You straighten up your appearance and calm your reddened cheeks. "Training's over," you say as you speed walk out the door.

At the end of the day, you're back at your place, freshly walking through the door after a stressful day at the office. Who'd have guessed Slater would make an appearance so soon in your journey to figuring out the single life? Who'd have known how absolutely unprepared you were for it?

After a few drinks, at-home vodka cranberries with far too much vodka to cran, you stare at your cellphone. All of you wants to call Slater and cave as quickly as you turned him down earlier. You shake the thought from your mind, scanning through your contacts for Archer. You stare at the number for a moment, recalling his dinner invitation.

You wonder if it was really meant to be a "repayment" of your promiscuous meetings. It felt far too personal, though. So personal, you sit with his number pulled up for another twenty minutes before ultimately hitting the red button, and clearing out all the information. Slater's presence has thrown your entire dynamic through a loop and it's pissing you off. Defiantly, you dial Archer's number.

Your stomach ties in knots as imagine what kind of mental strain this may put on him. To know you don't want anything more than an orgasm to get your mind off of the divorce. Surely he understands, right? It's not like he's the sentimental type.

"Hello?" A voice on the other end of the phone doesn't match the contact dialed. It's a woman and she's clearly wasted.

"Um, Archer?"

"Oh, he's kind of-" The next part of the sentence is clouded with laughter and the scuffling sound of a phone being dropped. Finally the call ends. An intense wave of relief washes over you. Thank God, you think to yourself. The relief is short-lived as you realize you've lost your lover for the night. You consider a trip to the bar, but it feels too desperate. That's when your phone begins to ring.

You stare at the screen. Slater's name flashes on the small device and you roll your eyes, sighing heavily. Already preparing for the mental toll this is about to take on you.

"Hello?" You answer on the last ring.

"Hey," he starts. "I just wanted to call and um, apologize." He sounds agonized by his own words. An ego check he never asked for.

"Apologize? For what?" You ask with a giggle.

"My behavior today was... Less than professional. I shouldn't have put you in a situation like that." It's as if this apology is being forced out of him at gunpoint, but you're appreciative of the effort.

"Thanks, Slater." You roll your eyes, still chucking.

"Are you uh- You alone tonight?" He asks, hesitantly.

"Yes, but not by choice. It seems someone else has made their way to my benefit's bed." You laugh. "I'm having wine and watching that show I like."

"What kind of wine?" Slater asks. You roll your eyes. He's always done this when he wants attention. Just sparking up a conversation about any and everything.

"Oh, you know, the cheap stuff." You shrug. Slater's unmistakable laughter crackles through the line.

"You love cheap thrills," he sighs with a smile. Silence falls over the conversation for just a moment before his voice rings through the phone one more time. "I'll talk to you soon."

"Slater, I-" but you're cut off by the telltale sign of being hung up on. You groan, tossing your phone across the room and letting it softly land on a fainting couch on the other side of the room. You rub your temples, silently venting about the man you've spent all this time trying to escape. Not due to any kind of fear, but simply because you know it's not ever meant to work.

An hour or so passes since you've changed into a sill nightgown and settled in for the night. You even consider digging out your weed stash and rolling a joint in the peace and quiet. You're halfway through the process (didn't have to twist your arm) when there's a knock at the door. Three soft knocks. Instinctively, you dismiss your buzz with sheer willpower. You glance at the clock. It's late, too late for visitors. Gripping the neck of your wine bottle, you stealthily make your way to the door.

Knock, knock, knock. Again. You don't jump, you hardly react at all. Nothing but a blink. Taking your place tactfully, standing right next to the door, you begin to slowly lean in toward the peephole. Just before you catch a glance, you hear a sound outside. A sigh. "Oh, Jesus Christ," you nearly melt with relief.

You open the door, pale in the face. All you could imagine was the CIA taking back their word and sending someone to take you out in the middle of the night in your own home.

"What the hell?" Your ex-husband stands before you with something in his hand.

"God damn it, Slater," you sigh. "What's up?"

"You said you were drinking the cheap stuff, so brought you a bottle of Château Calon-Ségur," he says, eyeballing the bottle in your hand meant to be a weapon. "But I'm now realizing this is the cheap stuff."

"The pay at ISIS isn't too shabby." You shrug. A second of silence passes between you two before you finally step out of the way and invite him inside. He nods a thanks at you and takes a hard look around your home. His eyes narrow at the lack of evidence of ever having a life with him. It's just a staged house of anything that isn't from or about him.

"Nice place you got," he says, stifling any other comments he wants to make.

"Thank you. I figured you'd have something shitty to say." You laugh, raising your eyebrows in surprise at his lack of insult.

"Not a lot of pictures," he tosses.

"I don't have any to hang yet," you arch an eyebrow at him.

"Right," he says, recalling the endless amount of photographs of you two he still has in his attic. "You seem happy. You look," he leans back, shaking his head with a sly smile. "Great."

"Yeah?" You smile politely. You know you look great. You've done nothing but glow since the papers were very first served. It's then that you notice the scent of his cologne. A decade of forgotten feelings comes flooding back, and as aware as you are that it's the wine, you can't help the redness flushing your face. And that's all it takes, just like that, he knows he's in.

Slater crosses the living room and takes a place on the couch next to you. "What's all this?" He asks, gesturing to your half-rolled joint. "I thought pot was illegal around here," he chuckles, finishing the joint and lighting it.

"It's decriminalized, but I still usually step outside before lighting it."

"Whoops," he responds flatly, bringing the joint to his lips as he lies back on the couch, sinking into the soft cushions. You pass the joint back and forth until you're both in a haze, surrounded by lingering clouds of smoke. The TV plays a Western, and though you're both staring at the screen, it feels like you're focused on each other. Each stealing eye glances at the other.

"Wine?" You ask, breaking the comfortable silence. He nods and you disappear to grab another glass. In the kitchen, you can feel the moment of his hands running through your hair, pulling it back, and whispering in your ear the other day. Chills run up your spine. Quickly, you return to your ex in the living room. He's sitting up a bit straighter now. After pouring him a glass, you join him on the couch.

He'd be a piss-poor agent if he didn't notice how much closer you sat to him upon your return. He can't help himself. "You know, your little friend with benefits was getting pretty friendly with some escorts in a casino tonight." You roll your eyes.

"My God, Slater. Are you just stalking everybody now?" You laugh, shifting a bit away from him. "Besides, I already know. He was supposed to come over tonight, but he seemed a little busy." Slater's eyebrows narrow.

"So sorry you had to settle for me," he smirks.

"I didn't. You just showed up." You eyeball him as you sip your wine. "And that begs the question; What do you think would've happened if you showed up while I was reaping the benefits?"

"Ugh," Slater shakes his head. "I don't want to think about it." He's laughing, but the boiling in his blood is as present as ever when he thinks about you with that secret agent idiot. His "casual" grip on the back cushions of the couch ignites his knuckles white. "God, do you live to get a rise out of me?"

"What do you mean? I didn't even invite you here." You look around the room as if to look for who might've invited him, sending the message that there is, in fact, no one. He invited himself.

"Y/N, look. I know the divorce is finalized. I understand I don't really have a leg to stand on."

"Oh, god. No, please stop."

"Will you just hear me out?"

"I really don't want to." You look at him, eyebrows turned up. "That sounds like some really heavy stuff and I'm really high." Slater sighs with defeat.

"Fair enough."

"Why'd you come over tonight?" You ask, curious and figuring it can't hurt seeing as he already made things tense.

"Ya' know, I don't really know."

"Really? No cheesy monologue about missing me?" You laugh. He used to try too hard. Always phoning it in. No substance.

"Oh, please." His eyes narrow. "Like you haven't been thinking of my hands in your hair all evening." His bold statement causes you to nearly choke on your sip of wine. Slater's chuckling at you, looking pleased with himself.

"You're insufferable," you scoff and his giggle erupts into laughter.

"You're so much easier to read off the clock." Slater leans forward and toys with his glass for a moment before downing its contents in one swallow. The tension between you is palpable as you refill his glass, not once spilling a drop and maintaining eye contact the entire time.

You hardly realize how close you are to him when you return the glass to his hand. Your palm flattens against his broad, solid chest. You've unintentionally pushed the two of you into a lounging position where you lie on top of him, staring down into his eyes as they scan your face.

You want to tear his clothes off and climb him like a tree, but you're preoccupied by the possible repercussions. You ball up your fist on his chest and release a frustrated sigh before creating a gap between you once again. You're sitting up, but Slater is still lying down, looking confused.

"Whoa, what happened?" He holds his empty arms out like he doesn't understand how you got away.

"I don't want to be shitty to you, but," you swallow the awkwardness down. "I don't want to create a dialogue that isn't there."

"What the fuck are you talkin' about?"

"I'm not interested in fixing things, Slater."

"Fixing things? Y/N, sweetheart, we had a good run." He sits up. "But I'm not trying to marry you again. I hardly like you."

"Bitch."

"But if you're gonna be sleeping around anyways, you might as well give me a call sometime."

"Jesus Christ. I'm not just handing it out like a prayer pamphlet," you say, crossing your arms.

"Never said you were," he arches his brows, annoyed that his own words aren't landing correctly.

"You very much implied it."

"Of course, you're gonna do this. You always do this." He begins to shift like he's planning to stand and leave. You can't tell if that's what you want or not.

"Do what? You just came over and told me if I'm gonna be a whore, I might as well include you in my whoring."

"No one called you a whore, Y/N!" He runs a hand through his pushed-back hair and groans with impatience. Finally, he stands and so do you. "Look, I'll just let you get back to smoking pot and drinking while your Mama's boy boyfriend has sex with a bunch of hookers."

"What the fuck is your problem?" You raise your voice. "And that's not what they're called anymore. They're sex workers." He rubs his temples.

"Jesus fuckin' Christ, Y/N."

"Oh, fuck you. You're the reason this is so hard to navigate. You made that divorce as difficult as possible at every turn!" You shove a finger into his chest.

"Because years ago, when I was fucking stupid, I didn't want to lose you!" The confession is too heavy. Too sweet. Too real. You hate it.

"Lower your God damn eye brows when you're talking to me." You push away the sentimental nonsense and Slater notices right away.

"I don't love you anymore, Y/N. We're both over it."

"Then why the hell did Archer make you so angry? You beat him up in front of his own mother."

"I don't know. Still a little protective, I guess." He begins to cool down. After a criminally short moment of silence, Slater sighs and rolls his eyes before closing the gap between you and crashing his lips into yours.

Everything in you screams fucking finally! But instead, you wrap your arms around him and deepen the kiss. He starts to lead you to your bedroom, but once he realizes he has no idea where it is, he picks you up, wrapping your legs around him. It's an easy stroll to the couch where he drops you onto the cushions and makes quick work of removing your nightgown.

You glow beneath him. His eyes study your exposed form like he couldn't see until he saw you. One hand grips at the curves of your waist, and the other squeezes your breast through your bra. A breathy moan slips from your lips like a sigh. All feelings aside, it's as if your flesh missed each other.

Slater's breathing is heavy as he drinks in the image of you beneath him. All those years together, but neither of you has felt like this since the very beginning. Back when it was just harmless fun in an empty office at work.

You tug his shirt up and over his head before resuming the sloppy kiss. After unfastening his belt, you begin to unhook your bra, but his hands stop you. You erupt into chill bumps as his fingers trail up your back and effortlessly flick the clasps undone. It's one part the alcohol and one part the history, but you're nearly breathless with anticipation.

"God damn," he huffs.

"I know, right?" You smirk. He shakes his head with a chuckle, burying his face in your neck and biting down softly, but firmly. You gasp as his teeth drag over your skin. He strokes himself a few times, looming over you with sparkling, dark eyes. His free hand pushes a stray piece of hair back from his face. You wait with bated breath as he slowly pushes himself against your sensitive clit.

"I'd be lying if I said I didn't miss this," Slater sighs before slowly sliding into you. You release a low, sultry moan as he grinds himself against you. He pulls your legs up so that they're hooked up over his shoulders, giving him all the angles he needs to thrust himself entirely into you. His movements are rhythmic and steady as he savors every inch of you he can reach.

"Oh, my God!" You gasp, earning a pussy-throbbing smirk from the man inside you.

"Don't get the cops called again," he chuckles, still thrusting. He's speaking about a time during your marriage when he fucked you so well that your moans and screams not only woke but concerned the neighbors.

"Fuck you," you huff, speaking between the slamming of your pelvises against each other.

"It's what you needed," he winks, picking up his pace. He's broad, strong, and well-endowed. It's hard to compare anyone to the feeling of being with him. It's like fucking a really sexy brick wall.

After an eternity of him slamming into you, legs tossed over his shoulders like a ragdoll, he pulls out. You gasp at the sudden absence. "Why don't you show me that ass, sweetheart?" He says, his voice is taunting and dominant. You do exactly as he says, turning over and arching your back to put on a bit of a show. Nothing he's never seen before, but you'd hardly be able to tell by his reaction.

Slater grips both your hips with his open palms, hooking his fingertips into your soft flesh as he pulls you back against him with each thrust. He tosses his head back in ecstasy. "Oh, fuck," he sighs with heavy breaths. You wrap your arms around the throw pillows, hoping for some sort of leverage against the harsh bucking. He raises a hand and playfully slaps your ass, earning a light squeal of excitement from you.

Just when you don't think you can process anything else, he slides a hand up your spine and wraps it in your hair. With each desperate slam into you, he pulls tighter. At some point, he releases your hips and your hair is the only handle for leverage he has, using it to pull your body to meet his as he thrusts as far as possible inside you. It just happens to be pretty goddamn far.

"Have your fun, Y/N," he huffs, voice raspier than usual. "Fuck whoever you want. I don't care." The sound of him sliding in and out of you has evolved to loud, wet echoes. "You're always gonna be mine." He picks up his pace yet again, slowly losing his rhythm as his flesh slaps against yours.

You can't argue. You know he's not wrong. Sure, neither of you cares so much for the marriage aspect, but you know you'll be right back in this situation a million more times before you're ever truly done. For the last time, you're working toward another orgasm when he quickens his thrusts and with one final slam against you, he withdraws and finishes on your displayed ass.

Breathless, Slater slinks backward into the couch and you collapse where you are, flattening out on the other end of the couch. You flinch as he cleans you up, leaving you with a playful smack.

"God damn, Slater," you sigh, eyes still threatening to roll backward.

"Better than your Mama's boy?" He asks between breaths.

"I don't know. I think I need to run a few experiments first." You grin, flushed in the face.

"Fuck you."

*****

Author's Note:

I wrote this entire story based on one glance at that GIF and I can't even remember what episode that is or what's actually happening there.

Update: I watched the episode and I love the handsome cartoon men. That's all. (I love the women too, but I objectify men.)

[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.

[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.

[lovelytsunoda]

let me go | jake seresin

summary: jake is twenty years old and about to ship off for his first assignment in the us navy. he thinks his girlfriend deserves better, but she's here to tell him just how wrong he is

pairing: jake seresin x childhood sweetheart! reader

warnings: angst, based on the song 'let me go' by christian kane, cliffhanger ending because i'm evil like that, spoiler: accidental pregnancy

author's note: i usually don't listen to country music but i caught a rerun of my favorite 'leverage' episode the other day and remembered this song existed, and the fic wrote itself from there

Jake Seresin's Ford Ranger was parked as close to the edge of the cliff that you could get without being a danger to yourself and others. The view over the grassy cliff and into the turquoise water of the bay around Stacey's Point was to die for, but neither was focused much on the water. The lighthouse stood proud behind them, occasionally swinging around the illuminate their bodies.

The pair had spent many a night at this point, perfect in the late spring and early fall, free of the tourists that flocked to the Point's picturesque shores. In mere weeks the town would be overrun, college boys tripping over each other for lifeguard jobs that would allow them to show off their muscles to any tourist girl in a ten mile radius.

They lay in the back of the truck, Jake's letterman jacket over her shoulders. She was too good for him, he thought to himself as he nuzzled into her neck, gently sucking a hickey. At her quiet moan, he felt a stabbing pain in his heart.

How could he possibly say goodbye? Walk away from the best thing that had ever happened to him? The mere thought made him sick to his stomach.

"Sugar, there's something I need to talk to you about."

She pulled away from him, pulling his ratty old football jacket tighter around her shoulders. "Talk to me, Seresin. What's going on?" She always had been good at reading him, understanding him the way that nobody else could.

Jake sighed, averting his eyes. "I got my marching orders today. They want me in Fort Worth by the end of the month."

There was silence for a long stretch, and then he felt her warm hand engulfing his. "We'll figure it out. Jake, when you first enlisted I told you I was in it for the long haul. That's not going to change."

Jake shook his head. Why couldn't she get it? "You've got another year of college to go, sweetheart. You have a future. You have parents that love you. What do I have? I have a chequing account with ninety-three dollars in it, and this old fucking truck."

YN's face fell. "That doesn't change anything. I've heard Texas is beautiful this time of year. We can go long distance until I'm finished school, and then I can meet you in Fort Worth. Jake, we can make this work."

"No we can't. Haven't you been listening? You've got it good here. Don't throw it away on me, you're just going to get hurt in the end."

Anything could happen to him while he was in the air. Injuries, dismemberment, death.

Whatever happened to him, he couldn't put her through that.

Red-faced and with his head in his hands, Jake got up from the back of the truck and started pacing along the dry grass.

"Why are you so eager to give up on me, Jake? Do you want to know what I think?" She shouted, trying to get him to look at her. "I think you're scared. You're not as strong ad you think you are, and I think you're scared to be in love. I think this is the realest relationship you've ever been in, and you're trying to sabotage it because you don't think you deserve to be happy."

She was right. She was right and they both knew it.

A lot of people had let Jake Seresin down in the long run. Teachers, friends, the adults of Stacey's Point. His own father had wasted no time in telling Jake that he wouldn't be smart enough to get to college on his own, and that he'd need a football scholarship to get there. Low and behold, Jake hadn't been good enough at football either. He'd seen the military as his only chance.

"You deserve better than me, YN. You deserve someone stable, someone who can always be there for you."

He'd thought it through, he kept telling himself. Breaking her heart now would be better for both of them in the long run.

"You're being ridiculous. I want you, Jake." She pleaded, one hand over her stomach through the thin linen of her pinstriped dress. Her eyes stung with unshed tears, and she could feel the heavy pressure in the back of her throat.

"God knows why." He snorted back a laugh. "I'll only break your heart down the road. You're better off without me."

"Don't fucking say that!" Her voice cracked. "Why can't you see that I love you?"

"I love you too, YN, but I'll never forgive myself if something happens to me while I'm out there, and you get left alone to pick up the pieces." Jake's voice was firm as he sank to his knees in the soggy grass, taking one of her hands in his. There was a wild desperation in his eyes, pleas in his voice. "So please, just let me let you go. It's better that way."

She shook her head, tears beginning to track down her cheeks. She couldn't do that, for more reasons than one "I can't, Jake."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm pregnant."

[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?

[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.

[callsignmagnolia]

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

[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

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!

[spnfanficpond]

Secret Santa 2022 Masterlist

Here’s the masterlist of all the story for our Secret Santa 2022

* Christmas Tradition by @cleighwrites 

Characters: Sam x Dean x Cas 

Summary: Sam, Dean, and Cas take some time off to celebrate the holiday.

Warnings: NSFW, past trauma (mentioned), m/m/m threesome, wing kink, anal sex

* 12 Days of Christmas Winchester Editon by @waywardnerd67

Summary: (Y/N) plans out an epic gift that spans over the 12 days before Christmas.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader/Sam Winchester x Reader/Dean Winchester x Reader x Sam Winchester

Warnings: Fluff/Smut

* Under The Mistletoe by @katbratsupernaturalwhore

Summary:  Moving on is difficult and sometimes includes uprooting to a new state thousands of miles away. Just before Christmas.

Tags/warnings: Jensen Ackles/Jared Padalecki, Jensen Ackles/Misha Collins (past), Christian Kane, Padalecki Family, Genvieve Cortese, Timothy Hutton, meet-cute, floof/fluff, schmoop, slight angst, loss, rom-com, Christmas, Alternate Universe

* Christmas Baking by @spnexploration

Summary:  a short, fluffy fic for Secret Santa. Does include a touch of A/B/O dynamics.

* I’ll be home for Christmas by @little-diable

Summary: Dean and the reader have always hated one another, a natural instinct they've run with. Now, on Christmas Eve, both cross paths once again, forced to endure one another's closeness.

Warnings: 18+, smut, oral (m), enemies to lovers

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader

* Of Glitter and Paper by @thesassywallflower

Summary: The holidays are a ridiculously busy time so you have to take the time out for a little loving wherever and whenever you can.

Tags: Dean Winchester, Female!Reader, Dean x Female!Reader, Domestic!Dean, Dean Does NOT Die In That Stupid Barn, Basically porn with dash of plot, with teeniest, tiniest bit of angst, fluff

* Oblivious by @ambergoddess444

Summary: You and Dean haven’t always seen eye to eye, even when it came to celebrating a win on a case. A few drinks, a confession and a fun night lead to a little more.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: Fluff heavy, smidge of crack, angst and smut (oral sex) - fairly plot heavy

* Under the cover by @jld71

Summary: Sam and Dean find themselves sharing a bed and revealing their feelings for each other.

Pairings: Sam Winchester x Dean Winchester

Warnings: Wincest, Angst, one bed, Sharing a Bed, Longing, admission of feelings

  * Shifted - The Plan by @mrswhozeewhatsis

Summary:  The Winchesters are meeting your family for the first time when you all visit for Christmas. Things don’t go quite to plan

Pairings: Dean x Reader

Warning:  So far, nothing. This will be updated as I go, though, if anything crops up. I’m posting as I write, for the first time EVER, so I can only say I hope this will be more fluff/crack than anything else.

* If we make it through December by @thoughtslikeaminefield

Summary:  Donna is horrified to learn that the boys have never had a proper Christmas, so she invites them to her house for the holiday.

Pairing: Dean x Donna Hanscum

Warnings:  explicit (eventually), fluff (? Idk), angst (? light), domestic (can’t get much more domestic)

* Cabin Comfort by @idreamofplaid

Summary: (No summary)

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Warnings:  Sex is described here

* Secret Santa Exchange by @the-slythering-raven

Summary: (No Summary) 

Pairings:  Sam/Reader (platonic) (Reader uses she/her pronouns)

Warnings:  There is whump, there is comfort.

*Christmas in Heaven by @outofnowhere82

Summary:  Sam and Dean enjoy a Christmas in heaven.

Pairings:  Sam/Dean 

Warnings: Christmas Fluff, Christmas Presents, Secret Santa   

* Tell it on the Mountain by @ladylilithprime

Summary: Castiel was able to protect himself and Dean when Dick Roman exploded, but it weakened him badly, as did getting Kevin away from Crowley and back to the safety of his mother. When angels show up under orders from Naomi to bring Castiel in by whatever means necessary, a banishing sigil is the most effective way to get rid of them. If only it didn't mean banishing a weakened Castiel too. If only Sam had not been dragged along for the ride.

Pairing: Castiel x Sam

Warning: Alternate Universe - Timeline Divergence, Accidental Wing Manifestation, Truth Compulsions, Frank Discussions of Sexuality and Intimacy, References to Sam Winchester's Hell Trauma, No Trips to Purgatory, 

* Not Another Winchester Christmas by @kickingitwithkirk

Summary: (No summary)

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: cursing, a bit of angst, some TPE implied

* Ugly Sweater by @ilovedean-spn2

Summary: Reader buys ugly Christmas sweaters.

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Warnings: Fluff, Dean being put in his place lol, all the hunters being out in their place! Badass reader?

* My Padabear by @fandomoniumflurry​

Summary: This Christmas with his best friend is different than all the others. But why?

Pairing: Jared Padalecki x Reader

Warnings: No warnings just Christmas fluff. Unbetad. Not my best work but hope you still like it. It's been a while since I've written anything. Posted on mobile so please be kind.