#scrubs ted x reader

[trashmouth-richie]

eddie x fem! reader

masterlist

w/c 7.8k

summary: things heat up in more ways than one for the roommates, thanksgiving makes everyone thankful.

warnings: NO MINORS, language, fighting, mentions of child neglect, mentions of murder

a/n: thank you to my beta readers: @jo-harrington @sweetsweetjellybean pls check out their work they are both so amazingly talented 🩵 thank you to @blueywrites for screaming with me on certain parts of this story + @fracturedarkness for helping me plan future parts for this series.

again— I’m no longer doing a tag list for this series— this week as really opened my eyes to a bunch of shit in this world and I’m fucking pissed off about it.

“Do you think it’s enough food? Last year Mike ate all the mashed potatoes so I’m just hoping there is enough for everyone.”

The holidays were always a stressful time for most people, housewives stressing over meal planning, guest lists and matching outfits for their Christmas cards—ones that coordinated well and hid the fact that they were miserable with their lazy, limp dick husbands. Poor Nancy fell into that category all too well.

She’s walking circles around her dining room table, counting the dishes on her fingers. Ham, turkey, cheesy potatoes, mashed potatoes, sweet potato casserole, corn, green bean casserole, a relish tray, strawberry fluff, gravy, two pumpkin pies, two pecan pies, a jello mold, two dozen caramel Rice Krispie bars, a pan of iced banana bars, and one can of jellied cranberry sauce on a crystal plate.

When Nancy asked you to join the Wheeler/Byers/Hopper’s gang for thanksgiving this year, you quickly accepted the invitation, asking if there was anything you could bring. She requested you bring the dessert. So the night before Thanksgiving, you started the tedious task of keeping Eddie from eating all the icing and caramel.

“Eddie! Have you seen the caramels I just bought? They were on the counter next to the flour canister.”

“Nope! Haven’t theen ‘em,” he answers all too quickly, “you thur you bought ‘em?”

“Yes I’m su—,”

Goddamn him.

Walking into the living room you approach the metal head, splayed out on the couch, fingers shoved in his mouth picking at his teeth, “oh Eddie?”

“Mhmm?” He hums, innocently, looking at you with big doe eyes.

“You wouldn’t happen to have caramel stuck in your teeth, the same caramel I bought and said, ‘please don’t eat these they’re for the Rice Krispie bars,’ would you?”

Rose colors his cheeks, “what? Me? Not listening? Ok O’Donnell,” he says with a scoff.

“Eddie,” you say sternly, hip thrown out and arms crossed over your chest.

“Ok! Fine! They were just so fucking good! But I’m dying right now— my teeth feel practically glued together— do we have any floss?!”

“Nance, I think there is more than enough here, you and Jonathan will have leftovers for weeks, months possibly.”

Fretting, Nancy wipes her fidgeting hands on her apron, “I just want it to be perfect— you know how I am.”

Type A, that’s how she was.

“It’ll be perfect, Nancy,” Jonathan agrees, coming up behind her and holding her around her small waist, “just like you.”

Scarlet heat accentuates her rouged cheeks. “Ok ok, no kissing the cook just yet,” she says, peeling herself from Jonathan’s arms, “can you and Argyle set the card table up in the basement?”

-

The turkey almost melted like butter on your tongue, the gravy was rich and savory. Karen’s cheesy potatoes were creamy and the crunchy cornflakes on top were to die for; the entire meal was delicious. The labor of Nancy’s love for her family and friends showing through her craftsmanship of amazing cuisine. You hadn’t seen Karen or Ted since the wedding, being the closest thing to parents you had, you were ecstatic when Karen joined you over the hot water and soapy sink, washing the china plates.

“So sweety, how have things been going lately? Nancy said you have a roommate?” Her tight blonde permed curls shaking behind her as she scrubs the pot used to make the gravy.

Drying the freshly rinsed dish, you answer with a coy smile on your face, “I’ve been good, doing better than I have in a while, yeah, I have a roommate, uhh Eddie Munson.”

“Oh Mike’s friend? He always was so kind to him, taking him under his wing and showing him the ropes in high school,” she looks at you then, her lavender eyeshadow catching the light over the sink, “I’m happy you two are dating.”

Dating.

Dating Eddie Munson.

Scenarios fly through your mind, Eddie holding your hand at the movie theater, him behind you—his chin resting on your shoulder helping you play video games at Arcade Land, watching him write songs and play his guitar, kissing his lips sweetly, deeply— moving down his neck, his chest. His fingers on your thighs—

You’re sweating.

Head dizzy and full of visions of you loving Eddie and Eddie loving you back dance in your head.

“W-we’re not dating, just—”

How would you describe your relationship with Eddie? Roommates? Friends? Waiting for him to kiss you?

“—friends,” you say, enunciating the word slowly, rolling it off your tongue.

“Well,” Karen says, a hidden smile on her knowing lips, “I’m happy you two are just friends.”

Friends.

Such a complicated word. Because you and Eddie were more than that, but definitely not dating. The tension between you was electric, and sometimes jarring, but you went to bed thinking of him every night, hoping he would just open the door to your room, slip beneath the sheets and hold you while you dreamed.

-

[Two weeks prior]

The morning after you had comforted him, you woke up alone— his side of the bed still warm as if he had just gotten up. Sleeping so soundly you weren’t sure what day it was, or the time. The alarm clock on your night stand said 7 o’clock but that couldn’t be right. You and Eddie had both slept for over twelve hours, the comforting kind of sleep that lulls babies to sleep, gentle, sweet, pillowy dreams in one another’s arms. Getting dressed for work, you slip a pair of jeans on, and change into a long navy blue cardigan, headband to match. Lacing up your converse, you open your bedroom door.

Eddie’s in his room getting dressed for work when you find him. Knocking on the opened door gently, you poke your head in, his eyes lift and meet yours, a sleepy, coy grin colors his face, but it doesn’t meet his eyes.

“Hey,” he whispers softly, stopping mid button on his work coveralls.

The black bandana around his head presses his bangs nearly flat, the soft waves of his chocolate dipped curls reflect the sun light with a honey oranged hue.

“Hi,” your voice is small and meek.

An overwhelming feeling of dread* clouds your mind. Where would this new found friendship and comfort lead you both? Maybe Eddie was regretting the entire night. You haven’t been on this comfort level with someone you were physically attracted to ever. Steve was like a brother to you. And Chad— you were never comfortable with him, your skin crawling just thinking of it. But Eddie? The sight of him gave you butterflies, his arms holding your waist while you slept was an intimacy you haven’t experienced before, and you wanted to relish in the feeling of it.

He fiddles with his rings on his fingers, rolling them around and around before his mouth opens to speak, “I’m sorry for yesterday,” he blurts out, looking down in shame, unable to meet your curious eyes.

Barely comprehending that he’s apologizing for being vulnerable, you walk towards him slowly. He notices your staggering steps and inches backward. His walls are back up, caged in with his feelings, barbed wire on the top so you couldn’t find a way in, electric fence surrounding the brick walls—the highest voltage imaginable.

“Ed—”

“Please,” he begs, voice cracked and broken, wavering on another breakdown, “please don’t… I don’t need your sympathy.”

Tears well in your eyes at his recoiling. How can a night of comfort turn into despair and hostility the next morning? Nose burning, signaling your brain that tears would be falling any second, you wipe your eyes hastily.

Eddie felt like his neck was out, exposed to the world, waiting for the guillotine’s blade to slice his skin, until the crimson of his blood spilled in the basket, severing his head, a trophy amongst the weak.

Munson’s didn’t accept charity, his whole life that's what he felt like to Wayne, a charity case, a goddamn roadblock in Wayne’s life stopping him from finding a girlfriend, sleeping on a real bed, forcing him to work overnight just for Eddie— he’d never forgive himself for the pain he’s caused him— and now you? Offering your bed to him, your fingers twirling through his hair as he came undone. Whimpering like an infant, coating your thighs with thick tears. Sure it felt nice to have someone there with him, to reassure him it was all going to be okay, sweet, angelic voice of reason. But when he woke this morning he felt disgusting, like a predator, a vicious wolf preying on a sweet innocent lamb offering herself to him because he was upset.

He didn’t want that for you. He didn’t want to taint your soul with his past.

“I’m not giving my sympathy,” you voiced into the void, whether he heard it or not you weren’t sure.

Eddie breathing heavily, trying to contain his emotions from spilling out of him, “good, because I don’t want it.”

He walks around you in a huff, the muted scent of cigarettes and cologne hit your nose, as he passes you and walks into the bathroom, shutting the door all too hard. Following him, you’re certain you are full fledged crazy at this point, like in a scary movie when the lead actress stays in the house instead of running away.

Opening the door, opening Pandora’s box, you push it til it swings wide, he’s hovering over the sink brushing his teeth, white and blue toothpaste decorate the corners of his mouth.

“Tooty,” he groans, spitting a dollop of toothpaste into the sink, “seriously— I don’t want to talk about it, whatever you have to say save it for the human Care Bear Harrington—I don’t want to hear it.” he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

Stones would be impressed with how still you’re standing, head raised waiting for him to look you in your eye. Refusing to break. A storm in your eyes threatening to flood. “Why are you acting like this?”

“I’m not acting like anything,” Eddie grunts impatiently, “are you ready?”

When you don’t say anything, he moves you out of the way, large hands around your arms, stepping around you and going into the kitchen.

Following him, you won't let up, his head in the fridge he pulls out the orange juice carton, drinking directly from the jug, “Eddie, you can talk to me about it, I’m a good listener.”

He shakes his head and rolls his eyes, gasping for breath as he swallows the citrus liquid, “I said— I said, I didn’t want to talk about it and I meant it, I’m a grown ass man— ”

Interrupting him, not giving him time to finish you blurt, “Doesn’t make you less of one just because you’re upset.”

His teeth clench so hard they almost crack, his hands balled into fists at his sides, the orange juice container crumbling in his grasp. Years of therapy as a child did nothing to help him. And neither could you.

“Stop,” he snaps, his eyes pinched tight, a wave of fury washing over him, only seeing red. “Jesus Christ enough! I don’t need this shit right now, I’m gonna be late for work!”

He stomps towards the door, shoving his boots on haphazardly, throwing his leather jacket under his arm, the same leather jacket you had worn the night before, your perfume lingering on the inside.

The smell of you lighting his fire even more, he’s losing all self control.

“What’s your problem anyway?” he grumbles, kicking open the front door, waiting for you to follow. His eyes are wide and full of hurt, anger, crippling anxiety so deep he didn’t even know if he was breathing. But no matter how mad you looked, how many tears you kept wiping away from your lash line, he couldn’t stop.

Keys in the ignition he puts the van into reverse and yanks the wheel quickly, driving like he robbed a bank.

Anytime you try to speak he cuts you off.

“Do you like getting involved with people's lives? Why are you so desperate to know what happened? Need something to gossip about at the salon? So you and your boss can whisper shit about me again? Hmm? ”

“What the fuck are y—” you try to say, but he cuts you off again, he’s raging war on himself and on you, it’s far from over, no surrender flag in sight.

“That must be it right?” he preens, barely stopping at the stop lights as he flies to your work, tires squealing around corners, “I’m here because you need something to talk about, the well full of hot gossip of Hawkins must have run dry. Well guess what sweetheart? It’s not anything I haven’t heard before.”

He’s so clueless, so expertly out of sync with what you were trying to convey, what you were begging him to understand. The tears are free falling and you don’t stop them, screaming at him, “Eddie!”

“What?!” he barks back, chest heaving with hatred filled lungs and venomous words so toxic they’re burning your skin.

Aching soul and self doubt at an all time low you try to will the words to not shake as you deliver, “do you really think I would hold you while you were sad with any other intention than consoling you!? You were upset and the least I could do after you helped me was try to make you feel better!”

He tried to argue but it’s your turn to cut him off, holding up a hand as he fumed through his nose. He parks in back of the salon, slamming on the brakes as you both jolt forward. “Let it go, Too—”

“I care about you, you stubborn asshole!” You grab your purse between your feet and open the door and jump out.

“Just stop,” Eddie pleads, his eyes brimming with tears, “don’t.”

“I can’t,” you say back in a whisper, your voice breaking at the last syllable, you reach for the door, out of breath and holding in your sobs the best you can, “oh, and for the record— Josie was telling me to be nice to you and give you a chance— my mistake.”

Slamming the door you don’t hear him break, you don’t hear him thrust the heel of his hand into the steering wheel until it aches and burns. His nerves shooting pain through his entire arm. You don’t hear him scream and hate himself as he drives to work, his body soulless, empty, fragile.

-

“Tooty, are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” you tell Josie for the tenth time.

You definitely were not fine.

Distracted the minute you got to work, your mind raced with questions of the unknown. Hurt, confused and pissed off, you had mixed the wrong color formula for your clients hair, resulting in money down the drain from your own paycheck as you threw the mixture away and started it again, for the third attempt.

At 10 o’clock you were folding towels in the back when you realized you had bleached an entire load of darks. The once rich black towels were now faded with splotches of orange.

Eddie’s words had ripped through your heart, hurdling themselves into the deepest parts of you that were sheltered away from anyone, taking up solace in your forbidden soul, hollowing it out.

By noon you were crying while rolling a client's perm rods into her hair, having to step away multiple times before Josie gently told you enough was enough and that you should go home for the day.

Not wanting to call Eddie and get a ride you decided to walk the half mile through town back to your home on Cherry lane.

Kicking a rock with the toe of your shoe for most of the walk home, you mull over the events of the day. Wiping your eyes with the sleeve of your cardigan as you tread along the sidewalk.

-

[Thanksgiving Day]

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with me to Nancy and Jonathan’s? It’ll be fun!”

Eddie is leaned against the driver window of his van, his finger tracing a smiley face into the dust in the dash. “I wish I could, but Wayne and I go fishing every year on Thanksgiving— it’s a tradition.”

Every year since Eddie was ten years old, Wayne took him fishing on Thanksgiving, starting early in the morning and going until sundown, ending the night camping beneath the stars, cooking their daily catch for supper, “save me a piece of pie okay?” he finishes, ruffling up your hair, a shit eating grin on his lips.

Feeling horrible that your car was still out of commission, Eddie had let you borrow the van for the night after you dropped him off at Wayne’s. “And you’re positive it’s okay if I take the van?”

“Does a bear shit in the woods?” Eddie’s laugh spread across his cheeks, the black beanie he has on his head inching closer to falling off every second, “Tooty,” he breathes, his brown eyes dipping into yours, “take the goddamn van and have a good time—and hurry up, you’re gonna be late.”

[2 Weeks prior]

🎶 it was the third of June another sleepy dusty delta day

I was out choppin’ cotton and my brother was baling hay

Bobbie Jo’s tune was ringing in his ears all day— no matter how loud he cranked the radio in the shop, no matter how many times he tried to hum a different tune— her -* words rang through his mind like silk, coating his skin and implementing old memories he didn’t want brought up.

He was filled with fury. A ticking time bomb. It should have been no surprise when Sean and Aaron started poking at him, how unhinged he would become.

“What’s got your panties in a twist, Munson,” Sean sneers, changing the oil on the Ford truck, “your little girlfriend finally figure out you’re a fucking loser?”

Eddie had already thrown a wrench across the shop out of frustration when he realized he forgot his lunch. He slammed the hood of a blue minivan on his fingers right after morning break, and now Aaron and Sean were starting in on him.

His breath erratic, trying to breathe through his nose to calm himself down but failing. His misery over taking his nerves. He grunts through barred teeth, “We aren’t dating,”

Sean perks up at the news, his wiry mustache splattered across his top lip like a squashed caterpillar, decrepit and sparse. “Oh shit, so she’s single, huh?”

“Damn,” Aaron chimes in, his hands cupped around his junk as he shakes it back and forth between his greasy hands, “what I wouldn't give to be balls deep in that pretty little mouth, that’d shut her up for good.”

“You’re skating on thin ice, fuck rag, I’d watch my mouth if I were you.” Eddie’s shoulders are tensed, adrenaline at an all time high. Fight or flight screaming through his blood racing through his heart and speeding up his heart rate.

“Whatchya gonna do about it, freak?” Sean spits pushing Eddie in the chest, “ ‘Name the time and place’ yeah motherfucker? How about right here right now?” Standing toe to toe with Eddie, but a foot shorter he peers into Eddie’s face, egging him on.

“Ever since you moved in with that whore you’ve been such a little bitch about everything— I mean I get it, honestly— Chad always said she had the sweetest p—”

Sean chokes on the last word as Eddie’s fist connects with his cheek, his rings would end up leaving bruises in their shape on his skin for weeks to come.

Sean throws a punch at Eddie but he is quick to dodge it, years of fighting in the trailer park giving him an upper hand. Blood spews from Sean’s mouth as Eddie upper cuts him in the chin, his tongue almost split in half as he bit down from the impact.

Eddie is blinded momentarily as Aaron socks him in the eye, a deep purpling plum colored bruise that took weeks to heal. Stumbling backwards his back hits the red sun faded tool box, Sean came swinging a crow bar out of nowhere and hit Eddie in the ribs, a groaning thud as the sound of his bones shatter in his body.

Behind his back, he reaches for whatever is closest, a wrench wrapped tight in his fingers gets thrown in the air at Sean, hitting him in the throat and knocking him over onto the smooth concrete of the shop floor, gasping for breath.

Aaron tackles Eddie, sending him into the air compressor, four fists are swinging and bodies shifting as they both struggle for dominance. Eddie’s lip is cut and his eye is swollen almost shut. Aaron’s nose is dripping blood on Eddie’s shirt as he punches him in the same place that Sean hit him with the crow bar. He’s able to get a knee up between Aaron and himself and twists his body to get above him, and when he does he lays punch after punch into Aaron’s swollen bloody face.

With each rocking fist connecting with flesh, Eddie has one thing on his mind, you. He thinks about the foul way they had disrespected you. The way you had cried when you told him you couldn’t stop caring about him. How he was close to losing you because he couldn’t open up and let you in. How terrified you must have been for all those years when you were scared and alone, nobody there to hold you and comfort you. And while he’s pummeling Aaron into a bloody pulp of cracked teeth and swollen eyes, it finally clicks for him.

-

The fight didn’t last long, but was effective enough to get Eddie suspended for the rest of the work day— and Aaron and Sean got a nice week's vacation with no pay.

Eddie’s knuckles are coated in a mixture of blood and spit. His jaw aches as he drives home with one eye open, it’s the clearest he’s seen in a long time.

[Thanksgiving]

“Fish ain’t bitin’ much are they?” Wayne and Eddie have both cast and reeled in their rods multiple times with zero luck. The small boat Eddie had gifted Wayne with for Christmas 3 years ago stood at still waters of Lover’s Lake, both men chilled to the bone.

“Nah, they sure aren’t. Probably no fish left in here after the summer you had.”

Since Eddie had graduated, Wayne dropped down to part time at the plant and went to dayshift. A true dream for him and for Eddie, offering to pick up most of the bills, a silent thank you for all the years that Wayne has taken care of him when he didn’t have to, but did anyway— the only caring person in his life, until you.

The wind whips through Eddie’s hair, tugging the curls out from the confinements of the cotton stocking cap snug on his head. The once crisp autumn foliage is soggy like forgotten cereal in a bowl of milk around them from the previous nights rain, chilling the usual humidity from the air and adding a depth of ice in their veins as they shake and shiver in their jackets, Eddie in his leather jacket, Wayne in a weathered faded khaki canvas coat.

Ruddy hands with silvered rings light two cigarettes, passing one to a pair of calloused, aged hands. Inhaling deeply and blowing warm smoke in the whispering winds of the quiet fog around them.

Wayne runs a rough hand over his sunned scalp, itching the small patches of hair left, as he readjusts his tattered cap, letting the nicotine settle into his bones and soothe the stubborn ache in his jaw, like ointment on an arthritic joint, “you ever gonna bring that girlfriend over to meet me or you keepin’ her alls to yourself?”

“What girl?” Eddie says quickly, coyly, blowing smoke into the space between the two of them, hiding his mouth with the curtain of his curls, opening the coffee can full of mud and worms, pushing another worm on the end of his hook.

Wayne hadn’t talked to him about girls since he was fifteen when he walked into his room and tossed a box of rubbers at his chest and grumbled, “use ‘em,” under his breath.

Irritation blooms against Wayne’s brows, “boy, don’t play dumb with me,” he cracks at Eddie, a false stern voice in his gruff voice, “the one you’re dating you little wise ass.”

“I’m not dating anyone, Wayne.” Eddie says, pretending to be preoccupied with the tackle box full of neon fishing lures and bobbers. He runs his thumb over the rough cracked surface of the faded red and white bobber, the same one Wayne gave to him when they started fishing all those years ago. The memory brings a smile to his face.

The gruff scoff from Wayne’s throat suggests bullshit to his ears from his nephew’s mouth, a noise Eddie has heard many many times in the two decades he had been living with Wayne, one that told him that he better tell the truth, and right the hell now. No matter that he now towers over Wayne, he’ll always be his boy, the wide eyed boy with a mountain of guilt on his shoulders, his son.

And as Wayne always knew— the more he poked and prodded, the more Eddie would clam up. They sit in comfortable silence, the slight breeze rippling the water on Lover’s Lake, rocking the small fiberglass boat and swaying the two Munson men gently.

How could he describe the relationship between you and him? Not dating, but hopefully more than friends. He didn’t have many friends that he’d willingly let help him battle his inner-most demons. In fact, Gareth and Jeff were still left in the dark about it. The breeze continues to grow frigid and burrows itself between the layers of his clothing, freezing his skin and peppering it with goose bumps. The chattering of Eddie’s teeth remind him of Steve’s birthday when he offered you his jacket, and opted to freeze the rest of the night just so you wouldn’t be chilly.

It’s simple really, he admitted it to Steve, but somehow admitting it to Wayne was worse than the hit from the box of condoms against his chest.

He says it all too fast, out of breath, and barely audible. But he says it. And a smile spreads across the weathered leather of Wayne’s face, pulling his mustache up, a glimmer of a sparkle in his eye, “see, now was that so bad?”

-

[2 weeks prior]

His knuckles ache, and he’s not positive if it’s from the blows to Aaron’s face or the way he’s gripping the steering wheel. His realization while busting open Aaron’s cheek made him eager to get home. Eager to clean himself up before he went to pick you up from work.

The house is silent as he walks through the garage, his angry hurtful words bounce back to him off the kitchen walls, the counter. The orange juice was still where he left it, crumpled and misshapen.

He truly was an asshole. Hurting the one person who cared for him other than Wayne. He sits down in a chair and unties his boots, blood splattered on the toes. Peeling the sweat stained work coveralls from his body, he tosses them down the steps to the basement, leaving them for later.

He stands partially naked in the kitchen, clad in only his underwear and socks, the kick of adrenaline wearing completely off, the promise of pain against his broken ribs rings searing heat through his body.

A glance around the kitchen stills the breath in his lungs. The kitchen is a wreck from the waffle night, the colossal beginning of a budding relationship that he was currently in the trenches hoping to fix. The once silky batter is now hard, pale concrete cemented onto the sides of the glass mixing bowl. The waffle iron was open, sprayed with cooking oil that was sitting with its cap off on the counter. The plates were sticky with cold syrup and now styrofoam resembled waffles, still on the table from where you had both sat. Forks and knives laying atop the ceramic plates in a haphazard way, awaiting the return of warm hands to finish their job.

Without thinking he starts to clean up, filling the sink with hot water, scraping the food from the plates into the garbage, putting away the orange juice and the left out butter and cooking spray. In no time the kitchen is sparkling and Eddie’s body is screaming at him to rest. The cuts on his knuckles are cleaned but swollen, soap stung from the water. His side aches, adrenaline slipping away with every growing minute.The pain is almost unbearable.

A clicking noise from the front door has him turning suddenly, a slight panic in his nerves as he stands stone still.

-

A block from the house, your tears return, cold, and stuck to your face like ice on poles. You’re exhausted, stomping the entire way home drove shin splints up your legs, the cold cramping dull in your calves. Thinking of Eddie the entire way home you are dumbfounded— completely and utterly confused at his reaction. How could he not know how you felt about him? Why was he begging you to stop? Wondering if you’ll ever get the answers to those questions you wipe your nose with the sleeve of your cardigan. If he was going to guard himself again, and put the barriers back up— so could you.

The door is stuck as you try to open it, pushing and shoving your shoulder into it, it finally gives, stumbling your way into the living room in the most ungraceful way. The scent of freshly wiped surfaces sting your nose and stop you dead in your tracks. You weren’t expecting to be relieved from seeing Eddie, but the relief is short lived as you notice the deep violet and indigo bruise painting his eye.

“Ed—,” you gasp, covering your mouth as you run towards him, foregoing the screaming in your legs, “wh— oh my God!”

His eyes melt at your appearance, scarlet rimmed eyes and wet cheeks take him in, eyebrows dipped into unease and apprehension. He feels your hesitancy, thick like fog surrounding you both as you reach your fingers up to his cheek. Ice cold pads of your fingertips skim the tender skin of his face, brushing the wispy hair of his bangs from his eyes with your fingertips to get a better look at him.

He doesn’t speak, barely breathing at your gentle touch on his face. The frosty coolness of your fingers burn his skin with every silky movement of your hands. He tries to avoid your eyes, avoid the pain he knew was from earlier and his cowardice.

Fingers dancing along his skin, you scan over his torso, the same way you did on the morning after Halloween, the bruising from the mishap of the steps is replaced by a pattern of splotchy deep bruising.

“They’re broke,’’ Eddie groans, his split lip ripping open, from him trying to force a smile, “looks cool though right?”

Using humor to deflect the true way he feels was an easy defense mechanism for him, but you won’t bite. Won’t take the bait he’s dropping into your waters, won’t nibble at his small offering.

Trying not to break, you stand your ground, “what happened?”

“Nothing that wasn’t deserved,” Eddie says, eyes casted downwards at your hands near his ribs, “I was just having a shitty enough day— my own fault—“, he adds quickly, his eyes flicking to yours, not wanting to put salt into the already festering wound he created, “I—uh—I took care of it.” He says in a final explanation.

“And now I’m going to take care of this,” he motions between you both, sliding his hands down your arms and settling them in your hands.

“Tooty— I,” he exhales as deep as his lungs will allow given the break in his ribs, spilling his stitched up heart to you, letting the walls fall with each word, “I’m sorry— I’m so fucking sorry. Nothing I do or say will ever amount to how shitty I feel for making you cry, for pushing you away. I’m a coward when it comes to this type of shit, and it was too heavy— too muddy for me to explain. I figured if I’d shut you out you’d go back to how it was before— before Harrington’s birthday, before Halloween befo—,”

A shake of your head and a sharp intake of breath come from your body. Did all of this mean nothing to him? The flirting, the gentle touching, the sweet gestures? It was all just something he wanted to forget?

Voice small and shallow, “Is that what you want Eddie? To go back to how it was before, when you first moved in?”

A single tear falls from your face, and without thinking, without second guessing himself or wondering if you would think he was being weird, Eddie is quick to brush it away with the curl of his forefinger. His swollen knuckles are tight and achy. He tries to hide a hiss from his teeth, wanting to live in this euphoric moment for as long as he can, as long as you will allow him to. He extends both hands now to your face, his rough thumbs rubbing over the expanse of your cheeks, fingers behind your ears, curling into your hair.

“I want,” he breathes easy now, as if the touch of your skin on his fingers mended his broken bones, his eyes soft where it allowed, one still swollen shut, “I need you to know that I care, too— and I don’t want you to ever quit caring about me— baby, I’ve cared about you for years—- and I can’t get myself to stop.”

And when a sob breaks from your chest, he pulls you into him, “c’mere,” the sensation steals the breath from your lungs, you’ve never been touched with such gentleness, such care. He’s holding you as if you’re glass. Fragile, cracked and held together with shitty Elmer’s glue that was a tempting snack for children. It’s so delicate the way he’s stroking your skin.

Minutes or hours pass you’re not sure. His warmth engulfs you, his musky cologne and spiced deodorant is a gentle blanket around you. Wrapping you in a swaddle of his admiration.

His hair tickles your cheeks, tattooed arms are twisted in your hair,and wrapped around your back. The shine of your tears coat his bare chest, his chin rests on top of yours breathing in your hair shushing you gently.

You spend the night working Eddie’s rings from his already swollen fingers, pressing ice packs to his bruises and spreading neosporin on his cut lip, rubbing it gently with the tip of your finger, Eddie giggles at the concentration on your face and the way your tongue is poked out.

He’s infatuated with the way you make him feel. His heart soaring higher and higher with each delicate touch of your fingers on his skin.

He’s up late that night, stomach full from your homemade chicken noodle soup and his heart even more full. Flying higher than cloud nine, your sweet face on his mind.

-

[Thanksgiving]

A sadistic voice echoes from your tv screen, “a little young for ya isn’t she Richie? BEEP BEEP RICHIE!”

Richie Tozier sips the Dixie cup of water, leaning against the bookcase in the Derry library, Pennywise continues his antics of torture as balloons drop from the ceiling, popping with blood spluttering on the library go-ers faces, oblivious to the fantasy nightmare Pennywise ensues.

The front door opens with a thud as a shriek and the popcorn bowl on your lap goes flying through the air. Eddie walks hurriedly through the door. A shivering spine of fear and realization hits you all at once. His boisterous laugh reverberates the living room walls as he picks popcorn from your hair, and places it in his mouth, a loud crunch between his teeth as he plops down next to you on the couch.

“Think you got your holidays mixed up, sweetheart— it’s Thanksgiving, Halloween was last month.”

Rolling your eyes you make a face to mock him, which only fuels his fire and has his cold fingers jabbing into your sides and tickling you so hard you scream out. Begging him to stop.

“Don’t!,” you squeal, holding your breath and giggling at his unrelenting tickling. He finally gives up after your face has gone red and your hair is a mess, laughing tears rolling down your cheeks.

Eddie sits back on the couch taking a huffing breath, a wild smile spreading from ear to ear, “that’s what you get for watching IT without me!”

Scoffing, you pick up the bowl of popcorn and the paled yellow crunchy kernels spilled on the ruby red throw blanket, “wait, weren’t you supposed to be camping with your uncle tonight?”

Eddie breathes out a sigh, bending at the waist to gather the kernels off the floor. The rest of the fishing trip with Wayne, Eddie spent it quieter than he had ever been, contemplating his next move, how could he show you that he was serious? How could he let you in? Show you his ugly past without scaring you, without you running for the hills? The answer was easy.

“I have something— somewhere I wanna show you,” he whispers, standing to his full height. Looking for the familiar mischievous glimmer in his eye, you are surprised by the genuine sparkle replacing it. His face his earnest, almost a look of doubt on his lips, scared of your reaction.

He peels the blanket from your lap and reaches down, his hand held out extended to yours, “come with me?”

-

The air is bitter. The driveway is glittering with a sequined frost, dancing with the shine of the street lights. Warm breath fills the inside of Eddie’s van as he slots the key into the ignition and fires it up, cranking the heat. Snuggling further into your knitted scarf, hiding the chill of your nose as Eddie backs down the driveway, heading out of town.

It doesn’t take long to get to where he was going, the drive in silence had you questioning what was going on in his mind. The path was overgrown, hidden from the road, hidden from anyone who didn’t know that it was there. The headlights of the van bob along with each sunken hole on the dirt drive. Jostling the van this way and that.

Nestled into thick trees past an old loose and corroded barbed wire fence, in place for property lines, sits a small house, paint chipped and barely visible. The roof was caved in by a large tree falling on it, the sagging porch still had bleached yellow crime scene tape hanging on by threads to the moss eaten pillar.

Eddie throws the van in park, sniffling slowly and looking around. “This uh,” he stutters, clearing his throat, “this is where I lived with my mom, my old man was in and out most of the time—drunk or in jail, I don’t remember him being here that much except the last time.”

Silence is golden, and you give him your undivided attention as he twists in his seat, bent knee leaning on the door frame.

“That,” he says pointing to the fallen tree in the back, “was an apple tree, apples this big around I swear,” he motions his hands in a circle, a chuckle in his throat, “we didn’t live here for very long, a year, or two maybe…”

His voice fades, and at first he second guesses bringing you here. He can imagine you piecing this puzzle of woe together, his life. The tragic tale of Eddie Munson, he didn’t spin a web of luxuries for you to pretend with him for a moment, a second, that he was anything other than what he was—but when your cotton gloved fingers slide into his, interlacing them—it gives him the courage, the resilience to continue.

“…I was six when it— when she was… he—,” he trails off, unable to finish, but it doesn’t take a genius to connect the dots. The abandoned house, the barely-there flicker of yellow tape, she wasn’t only dead— she was murdered, by his father’s hand.

Comprehending what he’s getting at, you can practically hear his heart breaking. Eyes never leaving his face, you take him in, his eyes are wet as he blinks back tears, using his other hand to pinch the inner corners of his eyes, and hide behind his hair, his face is ashen, once ruddy cheeks from when he came home and tickled you is now swallowed by stale ash, sucking the life from his eyes, his cheeks, his soul.

“.. right in front of me…” he hangs his head low, sniffing quietly, “Wayne took me in after that.”

Eddie and you were alike in more ways than you had thought, although your parents were still alive, they were equally absent from your life, much like Eddie’s parents. Sure you both had people who took care of you, and as sweet as the gesture was, it was never really the same. The aching torture of having to defend for yourself, put a brave face on for your temporary care takers so you don’t seem like a bother to them, so they won’t worry about the weight of taking you in— was all too familiar.

“Eddie,” you whisper softly, rubbing his hands with your thumbs.

Yearning and breaking for him, the cords of your heart reach to his, tethering them together as you slide over the center council, and carefully land into his lap. He’s surprised at first by your brazenness, but once you wrap your arms around his neck and hold him into you, he melts like chocolate at your heated touch.

Your fingers tug into his hair at the nape of his neck, his nose and lips make their way in between your scarf and your neck, the slight chill against your skin sends goosebumps down your spine, a throbbing in your core.

Realization spreads through your heart, your brain, the hair follicles on your head, the painted nails on your toes. Holding him, him holding you, his arms around you, your arms buried in his hair, his fingers rubbing patterns into your back as he sighs deeply and regulates his breath—for the first time in your life, you realize this is what love feels like.

To be loved and to be in love. It was undeniable. Right? Friends didn’t do this. Roommates didn’t do this. But two people who cared deeply for one another and were bonded together by more than just traumatic circumstances? That was love.

In this moment, nothing else matters.

It’s just you and him.

Him and you.

The flutter of your heart short circuits as it seeps hot sticky love all over your face, blooming warmly in your cheeks. Grasping him tighter, you pull away, settling your forehead into his. Whiskey poured eyes staring back into yours, for a brief second you swear you can feel his heart flutter with yours, beating as one.

Eddie doesn’t play his music loud on the way back. A comfortable echoing still in the van as it clunks along the road. His voice barely above a whisper when he speaks. He feels satisfied. Happy even? Like the weight of the world was off of his shoulders by you simply knowing his past. You didn’t ask questions and in the moment he didn’t need you to. His arms wrapped around you was more than enough, your fingers twirling in his hair, the smell of your perfume behind your ear. The way you let him grieve, let him take you somewhere he hasn’t gone in years, was something he’d appreciate for a lifetime to come.

Once home it’s like any normal night, only he doesn’t tease you. He doesn’t fight over the bathroom or use your toothbrush, he doesn’t argue when you pop Christmas Vacation into the VCR, even though you can quote the entire movie. He’s completely engulfed by you, watching you brush your hair, the extra roll of the waistband of your pajama pants. The ridiculous colors of your fuzzy socks you insisted on wearing now that the weather was colder.

He’s never felt nervous around a girl before, usually throwing himself around, showing off his exquisite rack like a stacked buck in rut, rubbing his antlers on trees, showing his mighty dominance.

But you weren’t just another lonely girl looking for a night with a lead singer, or a girl pretending to be in love with him just so she could score coke from his supplier while also fucking him behind his back, and you definitely weren’t a faceless girl that he plowed to forget it all.

Meaning much more to him than just some silly fuck, or a high school “sweetheart” that ended up being a heartless cunt, or a dumpster for his cum.

No.

You were much more than that, to him.

More than a roommate, more than a friend, more than Eyeball’s bratty fucking sister.

He could write sonnets about the little lines in between your brow when you pulled your eyebrows together, usually when you were mad at him. He could sing songs about your laugh, not the small polite one, the loud one, the one that rang every doorbell to his heart and and he gladly answered. He could hum a tune of gratitude about your cooking and the silent ways you care for him and your close friends. He’d get his ass kicked by the entire male population of Hawkins if it meant keeping you safe.

You were it for him.

The only one to make him feel, the only one he wanted to see at the end of the day, in the morning when he got up.

Watching you giggle and let out a yawn, he places a couch pillow between his hip and yours gesturing for you to lie down. He almost goes into cardiac arrest when you move the pillow entirely, your head resting in his lap. A sleepy smile on your face as you tug the blanket under your chin.

Yup.

You were it for him.

And he's a sucker, addicted to the way you made him love you so effortlessly.

hope you all enjoyed this volume! volume ix is where it heats up 🔥

@big-ope-vibes @br0ck-eddie @b-irock @loveshotzz @mopeymopeymouse @shiftingtherain @courtingchaos @nightonblogmountain @word-wytch @ghost-proofbaby @hanobe8 @abibliophobiaa @joejoequinnquinn just a few of the coven 🩵🩷

READ MORE

This is for you

*sacrifices 🖕🏼

[danistartt]

Homesick- Jamie Tartt

pairings: jamie tartt x reader, roy kent, ted lasso warnings: none. ithink other than language about: request!! jamie tartt is homesick

Jamie has rarely been hesitant to leave for a game.

But there’s something sick at the pit of his stomach when he has to say goodbye to you today, even when you assure him that it’s for so, so little time that it won’t matter. That he won’t miss you with all the excitement of a match. You set your palms against his cheeks and urge his attention to you, tired determination widening your droopy eyes when you tell him that you’re proud of him, sadness angling your features as you apologize for not being able to be there in person to cheer him on.

He smiles and thinks that he believes you.

There’s a painful tug at his heart when he has to leave for real this time, treasuring the warm line your marriage finger grazes along the lobe of his ear. He kisses you, opening his eyes too soon when he pulls away and catching a glimpse of you at your sweetest: still half-submerged in his affection, face softer than he’s seen it.

You are raw in the morning, still a little rumpled from your bed and an inch away from sleep. You got up early for him today. Let your forehead bounce against the passenger window so you could say your farewells face-to-face. He doesn’t think he’s ever had a person care about him like that. Sacrifice even the little things with great pleasure because it’s him.

“You guys’re gonna do great,” you murmur, arms tight around his neck. You squeeze once more before pulling back, giving him a happy, sleepy smile that he takes with him. “I’ll have a celebration ready when you lot get back.”

“Can’t wait,” he tells you with a cheeky wink, watching the amusement in your eyes wake a little bit more.

“Roy’s giving me the stink eye.”

“That’s just how he looks, babe,” he defends. “‘Nd if he’s lookin’ at anyone, it’s me.”

“No,” you say. “He likes you now, Jamie.” The way you say his name is so lovely. All curved and soft and smooth with love. You stifle a yawn and pull him in again. “I’ll see you soon. Behave, okay? I promise I’ll be watching the game on the telly.”

“I always do,” he defends.

“Roy’ll tell me,” you remind playfully. “I think he might write complaints down when you get a little too cocky.”

“I promise,” he gives in.

“You’re going to do amazing,” you tell him again, fully believing it.

“You know it.” He pecks the skin below your eye, finally walking toward the bus.

Roy grunts at you in greeting once Jamie’s gone inside, arms crossed in front of his chest. Ted yells a hello. Beard nods. You wave, continuing to stand in the parking lot until the bus is gone.

-

Jamie worries he’s ill an hour before the game.

You’re busy with the seminar you couldn’t miss and he doesn’t want to tell anybody, but he doesn’t have to with the team he has.

“Jamie, wanna come on over and have a chat?” Ted asks him, smiling.

Jamie shrugs, feeling like lead weighs him down when he stands.

Ted leads him into a hallway and rocks on his heels expectantly. “Y’wanna tell me what’s wrong, or do you want me to guess?”

Jamie scrubs a rough hand down his face. “I dunno, coach.” Ted furrows his brows. “I’ve never…” He sighs frustratedly. “I dunno what it is.”

“Do you not feel well?”

“I feel off.” Jamie shrugs, frustrated. “Like I forgot to do something. I’m all tingly and shit.”

Ted hums. “You a little homesick? I felt a helluva lot like that the first few months I came here. Still feel it when I get into a car on the wrong side.”

“I’ve never missed it before. What’s there to miss? I’ve a bed at me hotel. I like leavin’ and seein’ all the sights.”

Ted scratches his chin thoughtfully. “Maybe you don’t miss your house, Jamie.”

Jamie shakes his head in confusion. “I’m sorry, coach, what?”

“Home ain’t always a building, Jamie,” Ted explains, squeezing his shoulder before heading back inside the locker room.

Jamie stands, perplexed. “The fuck?”

“He’s fucking sayin’ you miss Y/N,” Roy barks out of nowhere. “You’ve never been at a game away from her. You miss her,” he explains. “It happens.”

“Why didn’t he just say that, then?” Jamie complains.

“Substance. Too obvious,” Roy shrugs. “Call her. Stop being fuckin’ ‘tingly,’ Tartt.”

Jamie is left alone once again, processing.

Ted called him homesick, which Jamie opposes. He couldn’t care less about the place where he lived. Everything in it was chosen by another person years ago, and the space is bland otherwise, with only one framed picture of the both of you hanging up on the living room wall.

Still, he damn well yearned to be back among his stupid, minimalistic furniture and monochromatic aesthetic. Why?

Roy said it was you and Jamie is inclined to agree. When he pictures his living room with his dumb couch, you’re laying on it. Your trinkets and colorful items allay impersonal corners. You’re making a wonderful mess in his kitchen. You’re softening clinical sheet edges. You’re the only warm thing that decorates his walls.

He misses you. He’s homesick for you.

He hates it when Roy is right (but he’s getting used to it), especially when it’s concerning something Jamie didn’t expect, something unfamiliar.

His phone pings, lighting up with your contact picture and a text message asking how he is.

He’s never had a home to miss, he thinks. He’s a little happy to have one. He’s elated it’s you.

[ofstarsandvibranium]

The Music In Me

Fandom: Ted Lasso

Pairing: Jamie Tartt x F!Reader

Summary: You and the AFC Richmond team go to a karaoke bar to celebrate a win.

A/N: phil dunster, pls serenade me. i beg.

Your relationship with Jamie was fairly new. You were a photographer that Keeley hired to do some campaign shots of the team. Jamie made you laugh when it was time for his shots and the rest is history.

You two were definitely still in the honeymoon phase of the relationship. Something new and exciting. You thought being with a hotshot like Jamie would be difficult, with his fame and notoriety, but it wasn't. It was the complete opposite. He made things so easy. You enjoyed his company, he made you laugh, was considerate of your feelings. You felt seen and heard by him.

You were smitten and everyone can tell he felt the same.

"Cheers!" you holler with the Richmond boys, clinking your shot glasses and beers together. Jamie was the only one drinking water now, since Roy gave him a limit of two beers.

You down your shot and wince. Jamie snickers, "Strong?" he asks, offering you his water.

"Very," you gulp some of it down and hand it back to him, "Think I'm done for shots tonight."

Jamie nods, "Probably best. Don't want you completely plastered when we go up there," he points to the stage where Dani is getting ready to sing his song.

You look at him in surprise, "You signed us up?"

He nods, "Yup. I need everyone to know that me girl's got a voice of an angel."

You snort, "Think you're exaggerating a bit, babes, but it's fine. What song did you pick?"

He smirks at you, "You'll see."

_________________

You, Jamie, and the guys burst into hollers and whoops as Sam and Bumbercatch hop down from the stage after their rendition of "No Scrubs".

The emcee walks up and speaks into the mic, "Wow! That was surprisingly really well done. Anyway, next up we have," she pauses to look at the clipboard of names, "Jamie and Y/N!"

The boys are no cheering for you and Jamie as you stand and make your way to the stage. Jamie hops up first, offering his hand out to you to help you onto the platform.

You shyly smile at him as he guides you to one mic stand and he stands at the other. There's a a screen at the corner of the stage so you can see the words "Everything Has Changed by Taylor Swift ft. Ed Sheeran" appear.

You smile widely at Jamie and he gives you a wink. He knows you love to listen to Taylor Swift.

The acoustic guitar rang out from the speakers and the screen told you to get ready to sing in 3..2...1.

All I knew this morning when I woke Is I know something now, know something now I didn't before And all I've seen since 18 hours ago Is green eyes and freckles And your smile in the back of my mind making me feel like

You turn to Jamie smiling from ear to ear and he's looking at you like you hung up the stars in the sky.

I just wanna know you better Know you better, know you better now I just wanna know you better Know you better, know you better now

Jamie joins in and takes you a bit off guard,

I just wanna know you better Know you better, know you better now I just want to know you, know you, know you

The both of you go into the chorus and you stare at Jamie wide-eyed because you didn't know he sings so well. Sure you've heard him singing under his breath or humming, but never so loud and confident like this.

Then he goes into the next few lines and you just stare at him in awe. He moves closer to you, having you face him while he sings. He knows this song by heart because not once has he glanced at the screen as he serenades you. You're caught up in him that you forget to sing, jumping back into the chorus with him.

You two continue this song and dance. He twirls you around while singing with you and you do your best to keep up. Your heart and stomach are fluttering in the best way as he pulls you in as you both finish the last line of the song

All I know since yesterday Is everything has changed

The guys are absolutely losing their minds. It's clear none of them knew that Jamie could sing.

Jamie hops down from the stage, offering his hand again as you jump down as well. He kisses your temple and wraps and arm around your waist, guiding you back to the group while everyone applauds.

As you two reach them, the guys are patting you and Jamie on the shoulders.

"Bruv, how come you didn't tell us you can sing?!" Isaac asks in disbelief.

Jamie shrugs, "Not really important in football, is it?"

"Still. You got mad talent," Isaac says.

Dani chimes in, "A voice of an angel!"

You snort and nudge Jamie, "So much for showing me off. You took my spotlight," you say jokingly.

Jamie winces, "Sorry, babe."

You chuckle, shaking your head, "No, no it's fine. Really. I'm more upset at the fact you never sang around me like that before. You know you definitely have to sing more around me now, right?"

He grins at you, "Whatever you want, love," he kisses your cheek.

[rebelliousstories]

Coming Home

Relationship: Luke Alvez x Reader

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Request: No

Warnings: Angst, Descriptions of Violence, Fluff

Word Count: 2,945

Main Masterlist: Here

Criminal Minds Masterlist: Here

Part Two of: That’s My Wife

Summary: It’s a race against the clock in order to get inside and find out where Luke’s wife has gone.

Previously…

“You are just gorgeous. Don’t know how that man ever landed you.” As he grew closer, Theodore raised his gun with his finger on the trigger, and fired.

Bang

~

Leonard grabbed his brother’s arm and raised it towards the sky just in time for the bullet to graze her shoulder. He wrangled the gun out of Theodore’s hand. “The hell are you doing man? We need her alive!”

“Maybe you need her alive, but I’m perfectly content in seeing how well agent Alvez copes with the loss of his little wife.” The man tried to make another pass at her, but was stopped once again by his brother.

“We kill her, and we have no chance of getting out of here alive. I mean, we’re already going to have a hard time with you killing that guy, and for someone calling the cops on us before we ever started.” Leonard leveled with his brother.

“The hell you talking about, Leo?” Theodore scoffed.

“The agent on the phone, Rossi, he said that this was the first time we’ve ever been caught. That could only mean that someone tipped them off before we ever got started here.” The two brothers were chest to chest, and toe to toe. They had forgotten about the hostages and the reason they were there.

“Ted didn’t canvas the place properly.” Wulfric suddenly piped up. Both brothers turned to the man who spoke.

“What did you say?” Theodore turned, a dangerous growl in his tone.

“You didn’t canvas properly,” came his reiteration. “You were suppose to take care of this job, because we thought we could trust you to do it right.”

Wulfric stood and left the room to go find Samson, leaving the other two alone.

~

“Okay, thanks to Garcia, we have blue prints of the building. There is the main entrance and exit here at the front,” Matt pointed, “but there is one side entrance. It’s a wonder they haven’t even tried to use it yet.”

“What is their endgame?” JJ asked, looking down at the blueprints. Everyone stopped for a second as they processed the woman being there.

“What are you doing here?” Rossi inquired, with his brows arching.

“Heard you guys needed a little extra help so I postponed my vacation by one more day. Will is staying with the boys.” She smiled as she was refocusing on the case.

“Garcia brought me up to speed, but I’m still confused as to how and why they got caught now.” The rest of the team was with her there.

“There was something about the way Leonard reacted when I mentioned that. It was like he was just now realizing that they were stuck.” Rossi mentioned. Spencer held up a hand.

“That could be because he wasn’t thinking about that possibility. He could think they’re too good to be caught.” However, David shook his head.

“No. Get Garcia on. I think I know what went wrong.”

~

Luke paced back and forth throughout the room with his arms tucked in. He had not said a word. Emily had stuck him in the mobile command center while the rest of his team was working the case outside. While the air conditioning felt amazing, Alvez was losing his mind thinking about his wife that was stuck in the building. With a slam of a door, Prentiss stepped inside and closed it behind her.

“Have there been any threats made against you recently?” Her tone left no room for nonsense.

“No. Emily, what’s going on? Where is my wife?” Luke pressed, already on edge.

“Luke, answer my question. Have there been any threats made against you or your wife recently?” Once more, she asked. Alvez scrubbed his hands over his face before placing his hands on his hips.

“No. Nothing.” He admitted. His voice was defeated.

“What about anyone watching you?”

“No.”

“Okay,” Prentiss sighed, “what about the trial? You had to go and testify as the arresting agent. Did one of the twins make any threats against you?”

Luke had to pause. It had been so long ago, in time and cases he has worked, that he had pushed it to the back of his mind. Scrubbing his face for what seemed like the hundredth time, he tried to think about the trial. Nothing was coming to his mind the longer he thought about it. Luke pieced together the events of today and tried to search his memory when he finally found it.

“At the trial, when the verdict was read after my testimony, Theodore was screaming at me. He blamed me for them being caught and sentenced. He called my wife by name, and said that he would make me regret it. I didn’t pay it any mind at the time.” The look of revelation on Luke’s face told Emily everything she needed to know.

“Let’s go.” They walked outside and found the rest of the team to clue them in. However, before they could, Prentiss’ phone rang out.

“What have you got Penelope?” She asked, standing around with her team.

“Ma’am, it’s her. They just- they’re, oh god.” Garcia whimpered as whatever she was looking at was happening.

“What’s going on, Garcia? What’s happening to my wife?” Luke demanded, resisting the urge to yank the phone out of his unit chief’s hand.

“Theodore just hit her over the head. They’re taking her somewhere in the bank but I can’t find it.” The woman’s voice was weak as she tried to articulate what was going on.

“That’s it.” Alvez growled. He tried to make for the building, but was held back by Matt and Spencer. It was like they were corralling a wild bull with how much the man was thrashing around.

“Let me go! I need to go in there!” He screamed, but there was no moving the two men holding him back.

“Alvez!” Emily yelled over his protests. Turning around, the agent was panting with rage.

“I said I wouldn’t take you off. Don’t make me do it.” She promised, watching as the man walked off. Prentiss nodded to JJ to go look after him, before she turned back to the team.

“Garcia, you still there? What’s going on inside?” Recentering the rest of the team, Prentiss assumed her role as team leader.

“Yes, I’m still here. I’m trying to gain access to the CCTV cameras outside the bank to see if there is something that I can find.” Furious typing was heard over the line, when David piped up.

“Garcia, is there a camera over the side door of the bank? We know that there is one but we’re wondering why they haven’t used it yet.”

“Um, yeah. Oh, oh no,” she began, “um, so I see Wulfric and Samson transporting something out to a car but they keep going inside. Why would they do that?” Penelope asked confused.

“Because they are wanting Theodore and Leonard to take the fall for the job.” Spencer stated, feeling dread fill his stomach.

~

Groups of people sat around the bank as Leonard kept his gun on them. Meanwhile, Theodore was busy beating on Alvez’s wife. The sounds of flesh hitting flesh caused even Leonard to flinch. He turned and saw the woman fall to the floor with bruises already forming on her face.

“Alright, give it a break man.” Leonard pulled his brother off of the woman. She curled in on herself while Theodore panted with a smile on his face.

“Where the hell are Wolf and Shark?” The man looked around as he waited. His brother looked as well, but stopped after a moment.

“They probably found a way for us to get out.” Theodore commented, turning his attention back to the woman on the ground who was still curled in. The phone rang again. This time Theodore answered.

“Hello?”

“Theodore,” David answered, “how are you doing?”

“I’m feeling fine. Can’t say the same for Mrs. Alvez. How is Mr. Alvez by the way?” He teased, keeping his eyes on the woman on the floor.

“For your safety, he is not coming in there. Say, do you know where Samson and Wulfric are?” David asked.

“They’re finding us a way out.” Theodore commented as if it was the most obvious answer in the world.

“Oh, they’re finding a way out alright. I just don’t think you’re a part of their plan.”

“You’re wrong.” He hung up the phone, and walked over to his brother.

~

David sighed as the phone hung up yet again, and turned towards Emily. The two senior members of the team had a silent conversation with just their eyes.

“How do you want to play this?” He asked, hands resting on the table beneath the phone box. Prentiss thought for a moment.

“Let’s get Samson and Wulfric the next time they come out. Reid, you and Simmons take care of that. Dave, Tara, we need to find a way to get inside.” With their assignments, everyone took off.

The two men went around the side of the building and saw that the twins had just disappeared back into the building. Waiting for the right time, their firearms were drawn as they assumed their positions. Reid stationed himself behind Matt, who was right in front of the door. It was only a few minutes before the door opened again. Samson and Wulfric stopped dead in their tracks as they saw what was waiting for them.

“Hey boys.” Matt teased, motioning for them to drop to the floor. Samson noticed the other agent behind him, and dropped. His brother followed suit, and the two were swiftly arrested and placed in a car to be taken downtown. After that, the agents made their way back to the rest of the team, and hoped that there was an update. Luke and JJ had joined them again which was a good sign.

“Are the Mitchell’s taken care of?” Emily asked, receiving nods of conformation in return.

“Went down without a fight.” Matt commented, focusing on how to get the rest of the people out.

“So, Theodore is seemingly calling the shots. We need to find a way to get Leonard to get out so we can take his brother down. He’s the main threat to her right now.” The unit chief explained.

“Let me try something.” Luke finally spoke up. Everyone looked towards the man, whose voice was rough with emotion.

~

“Where the hell are those two?” Theodore growled as his brother looked around the back of the bank.

“I don’t know. They aren’t here.” Leonard stated. The phone rang again. He stalked over to it and wasted no time in answering.

“What did you do?” He screamed, waiting for Rossi to answer him.

“Hello, Leo. Looking for someone?” It was Luke instead. Leonard stopped as he processed the voice.

“Luke Alvez,” Theodore turned to face his brother in shock. “What can I do for you, mister agent?”

“How about a sign of good faith? Let some of the hostages go.” Luke’s request made Leonard laugh.

“What kind of husband- what kind of man are you? You don’t want to speak to your little wife?” The man leered, confused by the agent’s words.

“I can see that she is okay right now. If you let the hostages go, I’ll come in myself and we can talk.” Leonard held his brother’s eyes while on the phone. He heard the call mute, and then click back on.

“No firearm, no vest. Once you’re in, we’ll let the hostages go.” He hung up the phone, and felt a surge of adrenaline power through him.

“Looks like we’re getting our reunion after all.”

~

“Luke, you can’t go in there. We’re not giving them another hostage.” Rossi shut down the notion as Luke was removing his gun and vest.

“If it means getting those innocent people out and away from danger, I’m doing it.” He set down the effects and jogged to the door before his team could stop him. Shouts of his teammates disappeared when he opened up the door and went inside the bank. Once he was in, he could see the carnage. The body of the man from earlier was dragged off to the side at some point, and people were grouped together. Men, women, and children were separated in different parts of the lobby. With hands up, Luke walked further into the building.

“Agent Alvez, how nice of you to join us.” Theodore greeted him, pointing his own pistol towards the agent. He held eye contact before a whimper tore them away. Looking down, Luke saw his wife; beaten, bruised, bloody, and broken. The man noticed his attention had drifted.

“Oh she’ll be fine. Maybe.” He teased, treating it like a big game. Refocusing, Luke found Leonard next to him.

“The hostages need to go. I came in on your terms, now they need to go on mine.” Alvez reasoned as Leonard patted him down. Once he was cleared, he started going to get the groups to their feet and moving them to the front door. Luke kept his eyes on his wife while he heard footsteps leave the building. Knowing that his team had them taken care of made Luke feel better about focusing his attention on what was happening inside.

“Oh I have waited so long for this.” Theodore growled, hauling Luke’s wife to her feet by her hair. The sound made Luke lurch forward to help her, but Leonard grabbed the agent tightly to prevent him from reaching the other two people.

“Now,” Theodore came closer with the woman in tow, ”what to do with you two?”

“Neither one of you care about Samson or Wulfric?” Luke choked out. The arm around his throat relented just a little bit.

“What did you do to them?” Leonard inquired, but Luke just chuckled.

“They’re half way back into the system by now. We caught them about to sneak out a side door without you, and with the money.” The brothers looked at each other, and looked at the agent inquisitively.

“You’re lying.” Theodore breathed out, yanking to woman closer in retaliation.

“No,” Luke rasped, “my team found out who you all are, how you met. I already knew your M.O. so it was just a matter of figuring out that the other two were using your hatred to do bigger and bigger jobs. And just like we took them in, you’ll be going back in.” He struggled against his captor for a moment before relaxing. They would be getting out of this.

“Not going back to jail. Ain’t gonna happen.” Theodore said, shaking his head. From behind him there was movement that Luke caught, only because he was looking for it.

“See unlike you, I know when to take the low road and drop.” Luke’s eyes were on his wife, but he was not sure if she could see with all of her hair in the way.

“You? Low road?” Theodore laughed, ”you won’t take the low road, mister FBI agent. You’re too much of a goody two shoes for that to happen.”

“Let’s put that theory to the test.” Without warning, Luke dropped to his knees and threw Leonard over his shoulder to slam him into the ground.

“FBI! Let the woman go and show us your hands!” JJ yelled, walking in with Emily and Matt next to her. Leonard was busy being wrangled by Luke who was tossed Emily’s cuffs in the scuffle. Once he was apprehended, Theodore was much more willing to give up as his brother kept begging him not to shoot his way out. The Jameson twins were taken outside by Simmons and JJ, while Emily stayed behind to over see her other agent.

As soon as the danger had passed, Luke ran over to his wife and pulled her into his arms. They were both crying and whimpering as they finally got to hold each other after the whole ordeal. Alvez holding Alvez; he kept pressing kisses into her head, before moving her hair out of her face to assess the damage.

“Mi vida. Oh, you’re here.” He whispered, looking at the bruises on her face.

“Hey sugar. Didn’t mean to spend so long at the bank. Kinda got held up with lines.” She rasped, prompting a watery chuckle from Luke.

“Only you would joke like that at a time like this. We gotta get you to an ambulance, corazón.” Standing, Luke gently helped his wife up, careful not to put pressure on any injuries. Emily had already radioed in for an ambulance, and she went to help. However, he was not ready to let go of his wife quite yet. Luke wrapped her arms around his neck and hoisted her into his arms bridal style, and carried her out to meet the EMTs. Before they could leave, Prentiss pulled agent Alvez to the side real quick.

“What you did was reckless, stupid, and you put in danger one of my agents.” She scolded, noticing how there was no trace of apology on his face.

“You did well Luke. Take care of her.” Dismissing her agent, Luke happily climbed in the back of the ambulance and held his wife’s hand the entire way to the hospital.

“How are you feeling, amor?” Luke asked in a hushed tone while he rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand.

“Your memory feels like home to me. So whenever my mind wanders, it always finds its way back to you.” ~ Ranata Suzuki

“Better now that you’re here.” She replied, happily hugging her husband to her until the paramedics made them separate so they could do their jobs.

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

.⋆｡Through The Bad And The Good｡⋆.

Dick Grayson x plus size reader

The one where Dickie and Dove break up and then get back together.

Warnings: break-up, some angst, fluff, mentions of abandonment issues, a little sadness, implied smut, getting back together

WC: 1k

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

The Graysons

There was something so inherently sad about a lone coffee mug in a cabinet. Was the absence of any more because the others broke or were they taken away? Or was this all there was?

The faded character of a fat orange cat professed that he 'h-ted mo-days', the ink slipping from the porcelain with each use. You stared at the mug blankly, just as you had all the rest of your belongings. It was all lopsided and wrong, each piece missing parts of themselves.

You sighed and looked away as you slumped down onto the counter, resting your cheek against the cool surface. Normally by now you would be cooking up a storm, preparing to feed an army of two but now you weren't doing anything.

“At least my grocery bill will be a hell of a lot cheaper.” You laughed to yourself, but really, you felt like crying.

The apartment was quiet, painfully so, and all you could think about was that stupid fucking mug.

You supposed that the breakup was inevitable, you had your shit and he had his and it was obvious that the relationship wasn't going anywhere. There was no screaming or breaking each other's things. There wasn't 'the other woman' or some wildly inappropriate friendship. It was a quiet discussion that ended with him looking at you solemnly from your front door before he shut it as he walked away.

Even if you both promised to remain friendly, he had not even texted you and your chest still burned with the pain of an awful breakup, the feeling that you've lost such a big person in your life forever.

“I don't think this is working.” You had been the one to break the tense silence of the bedroom. After yet another sleepless night where you both lay on the bed, backs facing each other, you were done.

His shoulders sagged. “I think so too.” He took your hand in his own and suddenly, it all felt like a good-bye. Tears rolled down your cheeks and you fell into his awaiting arms, his own sobs muffled against your hair.

Your eyes flicked back to the mug. “Fuck.” You got up and slammed the cabinet door shut. “Fuck him. Fuck this. I'm better off alone!”

You knew you were lying.

—————

Every trace of him had been scrubbed from your apartment by your friends who seemed all-too pleased that you had 'kicked him to the curb'. They never really hated Dick, you supposed they just wanted to support you.

But now, you kind of wish you had indulged them a bit more, letting them burn the small box of things that they had found after he moved out because now, you were spiralling.

The polaroid you took on your first date (he was so breathtakingly handsome, you couldn't believe that he asked you out), his favourite cereal spoon (it had a superman logo embossed on the bottom), and the Gotham City sweater you bought for him that still mysteriously smelt of him, even a month after he wore it last.

You slipped the soft material over your head before you could rationally think about it and suddenly that vice around your heart loosened just a fraction and you could breathe again.

Breaking up was the right thing to do.

Your life goals didn't line up.

He had responsibilities outside of you that were more important.

You never saw each other.

He never did the dishes and always left his underwear on the floor.

Women and men constantly flirted with him.

He was a trust-fund baby and a cop.

He was a vigilante with severe abandonment issues.

But god, he was so perfectly imperfect. He spoiled you rotten and worshipped the ground you walked on. He was honest and patient and kind. You blended so well into each other's friend groups. The chemistry was out of this world and he was by far the best lay you ever had. His family loved you. He had to have been sculpted by the gods with his chiselled body and boyish smile. He knew how to get you out of your shell while respecting your boundaries. He was strong. He was intelligent. He had manners. He was tall. He was passionate and giving. You could read each other so well it was almost frightening. He valued you.

You loved him, he loved you. And that's all that really mattered wasn't it.

Dick Grayson was your soulmate and you let him leave.

Your feet carried you out of your bedroom mindlessly. You slipped on your shoes and glanced over your shoulder towards the kitchen, where your lone coffee mug sat on the counter. Garfield's half-smile seemed to mock you.

You snatched it up. “I'm getting him back.” You insisted as you lay your hand on the doorknob. “I have to get him back.”

The door swung open.

And there he was, fist raised as if he were about to knock, a bouquet of flowers in his other hand. Time paused for a moment as you both took each other in.

His eyes were red and there were dark bags beneath them, he was just a little paler, a little more forlorn but he was still your Dick. He smiled then and everything else faded away.

“That's my favourite mug.”

“Those are my favourite flowers.” You retorted, making him chuckle. “Wanna come in?”

He looked hesitant for a moment. “I had a whole romantic gesture planned. I wanted to woo you.” He said in a tone very similar to a whine.

You smirked as you grabbed his collar, dropping the mug in the process, and yanked him into the apartment. Dick followed enthusiastically, his hands flying to your wide hips as he ducked down to brush his nose against yours.

“Woo me later, I need you now.”

“Yes ma'am.” As he carried you to the bedroom, the both of you too wrapped up in each other to even care about the shattered porcelain and crushed flowers on the floor, you knew that you had each other through the bad and the good.

And there was so much good coming your way.

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[beybaldes]

a little love affair

summer sleepover masterlist

will kitman x gn!reader

summary : “being caught kissing”

an : I just wrote a fic with the opposite prompt of kissing to avoid being caught so you should totally check that out too if you liked this one

In the 4 weeks that you and Will had been testing the waters of a relationship, you’d snuck in to the boot room at least 80 times.

Whether it was just to see him, or for a full on make out session, the boot room had become like a second home around the dog track.

“You’re back already?” Will teased, setting down the boot he’d been scrubbing at.

“You want me to go?”

“No, no! I just meant, weren’t you here 10 minutes ago?”

“Yeah, I was.” The smirk that filled your face had Will weak in the knees as you pulled out a thick stack of paper from behind your back. He wasn’t entirely sure what you saw in him, especially when there was a room full of professional footballers on the other side of the wall. Whatever it was, he decided, he was very glad you saw it. “Rebecca sent me back down with some paperwork for Ted. Thought it couldn’t hurt to make a pit stop along the way.”

The paperwork quickly joined the abandoned boot on the bench, Will moving fluidly around you to allow you to place it down. “How kind of you.”

You slung your arms over his shoulders now that your hands were free, his coming to rest around your waist. “I know, right?”

In one step you filled the little space between you and Will, wasting no time by sending your hands into his hair. His hands were drawn to your hips like a magnet; he held them firm against it and squeezed, a smile curling onto his lips at the gasp he successfully pulled from you. A mix between a gasp and a moan slipped past your lips, and he took the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, deepening the kiss. Both of your hands tangled themselves in his hair, pulling and tugging at it. With a particularly sharp tug to his hair, he was pulling your hips against his, backing himself against the washing machine, pulling you with him and tilting your head back as he did, giving the kiss an even deeper angle then it had before.

“If you’re going to fuck in the boot room I’d prefer you locked the door.”

“Jamie!” The two of you jumped apart suddenly, trying to straighten out each others tousled appearances as the striker lingered in the doorway, his eyes unmoving from the two of you. “What are you- what are you doing here?”

“Boots.” Jaime pointed towards the pair that were half clean, abandoned on the bench next to the similarly abandoned paperwork. “Though I can see those are clearly not ready yet.”

Will continued to fix your hair back into place as your flattened out your pants, taking a nod from him as confirmation that you looked decent before scurrying out of the boot room. You’d got halfway to the coaches office before realising you’d forgotten the paperwork you were meant to be delivering.

Apologising to Jamie as you squeezed past him and back into the boot room, you grabbed the paperwork from the bench, pressing a kiss to Will’s cheek as you passed him.

Jamie’s eyes followed you until you were out of sight, turning back to face Will, who was furiously scrubbing at his boots, with a low whistle slipping past his lips. “Now, Will, aren’t you a lucky man?”

A fond smile curled on Will’s lips and his brushstrokes agains Jamie’s dirty boot stopped. Even though the two of you had only been seeing each other for a few weeks, and were yet to put an official title on whatever you were, he could already feel himself falling head over heels for you. He wouldn’t have it any other way. “Yeah, I am.”

“Cool, well, I kind of need them boots so…”

“Oh, yeah, yeah.” Will quickly returned to scrubbing at the boots, though the smile remained on his face and the lingering buzz of your kiss remained against his cheek.

[security-chief-odo]

As you wish

Ted Lasso x Reader

*NSFW*

Description: After a hard day at work, Ted Lasso pampers the reader in more ways than one.

AFAB gender neutral reader. No references to gender of reader.

———————

It had been a long day at work. As a matter of fact, it had been a long week. You were stuck in meeting after meeting, meanwhile the emails just kept building up in your inbox. You felt like you were drowning in work, and to top it all off, you weren’t getting any help from your boss, who ended your Friday by yelling at you over just one more thing that was out of your control.

You were looking forward to the weekend, not only for the chance to relax, but also to finally get to see Ted. You had worked so many late nights this week that by the time you got home, you crashed and barely got to see him at all. He had been patient with you, even when you’d been snippy and short with him over stress that he didn’t cause.

Sometimes you felt like you didn’t deserve his kindness, but as the end of your walk home neared, you knew his kind smile would be there to greet you as soon as you entered your shared flat.

The moment you opened the door, his head turned and he opened his mouth to greet you but before he could get even a sound out, you nearly collapsed into his arms with your head against his chest.

This earned you a warm chuckle from Ted as he kissed the top of your head. “Hey there darlin’,” he said as your tired eyes met his. “What can I do for you?”

“Just hold me.” You replied.

“Now that much I can do.” He said, as picked you up and carried you to the couch. He settled in, sitting up as you lay across his lap. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

You shook your head and he nodded in understanding. The contented silence you were in lasted about 30 minutes before you started to doze and Ted spoke up again. “Hey, y/n,” he whispered softly, “I need to get up before I lose all feeling in my leg. How about I run you a warm bath and get dinner started?”

As nice as cuddling was, you could feel the emptiness in your stomach as soon as he had mentioned food. “That does sound nice.” you added as you sat up. He headed into your bathroom and you could hear the water start to rush through the tap. Stretching just made you more aware of the ache throughout your body as you moved to stand.

As you quietly waded into the bathroom, you got stopped at the doorway just by the sight of Ted. You had been too tired when you got home to take in the way a few strands of his hair had fallen from their neatly gelled place, or the soft, gentle way he moved as he folded your favorite pair of pajamas for when you got out of the tub, or the way the sweatpants he must’ve changed into after work stretched across his gorgeous thighs and ass.

Ted could feel your gaze on him, but he didn’t mind. After a moment he cleared his throat and turned his head to you with a goofy, lopsided grin. “See somethin’ you like sweetheart?”

“More like someone I like.”

He rested his hands on your hips and kissed you through his smile. “Oh? And who would that be?”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes as you both giggled at his stupid joke. “You, you dork” you said looking up to kiss him again.

“Well, in that case, what would you say to a movie with this dork with dinner tonight? You can pick the movie, I know you’ve had a hard week.”

“That sounds great, Ted.”

“Then we best get you out of those clothes so you can relax and I can make us dinner.”

“I guess we better” After you had removed your clothes, he helped you into the bath. You let out something between a happy sigh and a groan at the ache in your muscles. He planted a kiss on your forehead before turning to leave the room.

Ted bent down to pick up your dirty clothes from the floor and softly closed the door on his way out.

You scrubbed the day off your body and found yourself relaxing into the warmth of the water. You weren’t sure how long it had been but by the time Ted returned, the ache in your body had long since faded.

“Dinner is ready, but take your time. I made chili, so I’ve got it on low on the stove to keep it warm for you.” He said sitting next to you.

“Thank you, Ted. Just let me wash my hair and I’ll be out.”

“How about you let me take care of you a little tonight and let me do that for you?”

You hesitated briefly at the thought before you considered how nice his hands would feel in your hair. You nodded, then sunk into the water to wet your hair.

When you arose, he had already gotten your shampoo ready. As you turned your back to him, he massaged the shampoo into your scalp. Relaxing into his touch, you let him direct your head.

After a couple minutes, his hands were out of your hair. “Now go ahead and rinse darling.” You sunk back into the water as he dried his hand on the nearby hand towel. You sat up and unplugged the drain.

He offered you his hand to help you out of the tub. Ted then grabs the towel and begins drying you off. You chuckled and rolled your eyes. “You don’t have to do everything for me Ted. You know that right?”

“I do know that, but I sure love doing it anyway.” He looks up at you without stopping his movements, “You deserve to be taken care of, y/n”

With the sincerity in his eyes boring into yours, you had no further objections and let him continue.

When he was done, he stood and held you in his arms. He pulled you in for a long kiss and you melted into it. He pulled away after a minute. “I’ll go ahead and fix our bowls. You just go ahead and get dressed.”

And you both did just that. You entered the living room to find two bowls of chili sitting on the coffee table with a sleeve of saltines in between, and a drink for each of you. “So what’re we putin’ on, Olivia Newton John?

Shaking your head at his usual bit, you replied “I was thinking The Princess Bride.”

“As you wish, sweetheart.” He picked up the remote and set it up as you picked up your bowl and leaned into his side.

You let out a soft moan as you took your first bite. Ted was truly an amazing cook. You’d often thought about how you weren't sure how you’d lived life before eating the food made by this man.

“That good?”

“It really is. I don’t know how you do it, Ted.” His cheeks flushed lightly at the compliment. The movie started and you settled in.

You had both finished your food by the time that Westley was facing off against Vizzini, so you started to gather your dishes before Ted put a hand on your shoulder to stop you. “Let me do it y/n. All you gotta do is settle in and I’ll be back before you even notice I left.”

When he came back in, he grabbed a blanket to put over the both of you as you curled up against his chest.

You weren’t sure exactly when you had drifted off, but when you stirred, Ted had moved you both to the bedroom and he was sitting up against the headboard. watching Notting Hill.

He must not have noticed you were awake as you could hear him faintly whispering along with the movie “I'm just a girl, standing in front of a boy, asking him to love her.'' He did finally notice when you lifted your head to look at him in loving amusement. “Well good morning dear, or rather good evening. Feeling any better?”

“Much.” You replied, moving to straddle him so you could see him –and kiss him now that you had gotten to rest. Now that you were finally awake, your kisses were far more eager. You hadn’t gotten hardly any time with Ted this week and you could feel the toll it had taken on both of you.

Ted turned off the movie to give you his undivided attention. He grabbed your face as your fingers carded through his hair, pulling each other as close as could be. “I missed you’” he said in between kisses, “so much, baby”

You slid his shirt up slightly and he got the message, breaking apart your make out session to slide his shirt off. He leaned back in and kissed you with even more fervor than before. His hands were colder than expected as he slid his hand up your shirt leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. His other hand was planted firmly on your ass.

You gasped as he groped you. He trailed his kisses along your jawline, then down your neck, until he found that spot by your pulse point that always makes you moan. He settled there and sucked and nipped at the spot gently, relishing in your sounds.

You could feel him hard against your thigh and ground against him. The groan he let out was nothing short of sinful. “You’re driving me crazy darlin’” His voice had gotten low and gravelly with arousal.

“Then do something about it.” you retorted.

“As you wish.”

That was all of the warning you had before he slid off your shirt and flipped you onto your back. He hovered over you before he began kissing down your body. He began where had left off at your neck but quickly left a trail of warm kisses on his way to enclose his lips around your nipple. His other hand lightly played with your other nipple as he swirled his tongue around the one in front of him.

He sucked at it and lightly bit it before continuing his path downward. Just before he got to where you wanted him most, he skipped over it and instead started leaving gentle, teasing bites down your inner thigh. His mustache left the skin even more raw and sensitive.

You whined loudly and ran your hands through Ted’s hair. He looked up at you expectantly before you finally got enough composure to let out “Stop being a tease, I need you.”

“As you wish” he winked before moving back up. HIs face was between your thighs and he looked like he was in heaven before he even began. He licked a stripe between your folds before he began to focus more on your clit.

You felt a finger at your entrance and could feel your clit throb against his tongue as he slid his finger slowly in and out of you. “Fuck, you’re so wet darlin’” He quickened his pace as your hands tightened in his hair. He lapped at your folds like a man starved as he added a second finger pumping it in and out of you as you tightened around him.

“Cum for me baby” he murmured against you. You were close and one last look at his face as he kept up his ministrations did you in. You threw your head back in ecstasy as he lapped up your juices.

As you came down from your high, he was over you again pressing a gentle kiss to your head. Ted then collapsed next to you and pulled you in close. You reached between you in an attempt to provide him the same relief he had you but he grabbed your wrist before you could.

“Tonight was all about you, y/n” he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Get some rest sweetheart.”

He pulled the blanket over you both and turned on another rom-com until you both dozed off in each other’s arms.

• • •

Let me know if you want to be added to my general tag list or my tag list for this pairing!

[jasonshoodies]

Reader x Jason Sudeikis fluff blurb, no smut but the potential is there.

Jason returns home, let-lagged and exhausted, and you decide he needs a little relaxation. ___________

“Hey, baby.” You smile at Jason as he enters the kitchen, fresh off a red carpet and SAG panel for the final season of Ted Lasso. He is exhausted, it’s evident, his hoodie a bit rumpled and hair messily stuffed under an older baseball cap. You can’t help but chuckle that he truly walked a red carpet wearing a hoodie from his unpacked suitcase. Typical. 

His eyes are a bit weak, but he returns your smile before scrubbing a hand over his jaw and suppressing a yawn. “Bed?” is all he says, and you know that he doesn’t have any interest in discussing his evening and that’s okay. You really don’t either. “Yeah, come on.” You nod toward the hallway that leads to the master suite and grab his hand, leading the way. “What about a hot shower? You can sit on the bench and I’ll wash your hair with the lavender shampoo. It will help you rest, even if you can’t smell it.” Jason nods and yawns again, “That sounds amazing. I’m honestly too tired to lift my arms. Isn’t that pathetic?” “I mean, a little.” You nudge his side as you enter the bathroom and start the shower, letting the water warm. “But, the good news is, I can take care of you so you don’t even have to lift your arms. The only thing ya gotta do is wash your secrets, because I do have some boundaries.” You giggle a bit as you motion him toward you and stuff your hands under his hoodie and start to pull up, peeling his layers off one by one. “I’ll wash my own ass, thank you.” He mumbles and laughs, eyes shut as you pull the hoodie over his head, taking the maroon colored hat with it. Next is the tshirt and Jason hums with approval at the feeling of your fingertips sliding down his chest and stomach to unbuckle his belt and unbutton his pants. “Besides, the shower has jets, if we really want to get technical, it can wash my ass for me.” The movements between the two of you are intimate and full of trust, even though you haven’t been together super long. “Don’t get fresh with me, yeah?” Jason leans over to take off his socks before pulling down his pants and underwear at the same time, breezing by you to enter the shower. “You’re too tired to get hard.” You tease and follow behind him, giving his butt a playful swat as you both move to get under the water. The shower is exquisite, jets in every direction, a waterfall shower head, and the temperature is nearly too hot. You both sigh with relief and instantly relax. Jason reaches out and lazily pulls you against him, lips landing on your forehead as you both say nothing and let the water hit your bodies. “I’m tired, I’m not dead.” He murmurs against your forehead and kisses your skin again, his beard just a bit rough but in a good way. You can feel the way his lips curve into a smile and his hands roam up and down your sides then around you until you’re pulled tight against him.  The evidence of him being very much alive twitches against you and you can’t help but giggle. “Shh, stop, sit down here on the bench and let me take care of you, you fucking maniac.” His hair is completely saturated and you start to lather shampoo through the strands, your short nails scraping his scalp gently. You watch as his eyes flutter beneath closed lids and you can tell he’s melting at the feeling of your hands, tension releasing in waves from his neck and shoulders. The smell of lavender wafts between you and you know he can’t smell a damn thing, but it’s still relaxing all the same.

Standing between his legs, you rinse the shampoo and begin working conditioner through his hair, then his beard. Neither of you are saying much, but you’re watching his face intently, almost entranced by how he’s letting you care for him. It’s a softness he doesn’t always allow, mostly because he never slows down long enough to let you dote and make over him. With the utmost care, you rinse his hair and beard, and finally lean down to kiss his lips and you can’t help but linger for a few seconds, tilting your head to give him a bit more access to your mouth.

He doesn’t seem to mind.

[arianadevareux]

Imagine...

Being JD’s sister and flirting with Ted every time you visit Sacred Heart.

(For russianbutchcrushing)

Sacred Heart was generally lax about staff visitation, which was great for you as his long hours made it difficult to see your brother. You’d come to see him when you had time; usually to pick him up so you could have lunch together.

Occasionally, JD was busy when you arrived and you’d instead chat with whoever had the time. You quickly found that the hospital’s lawyer, Ted, had plenty of spare time.

“Hi, Ted!” 

He’d always get flustered when you’d talk to him. He even commented a few times about the fact that you remembered his name. He’d told you that girls don’t normally do that. “Oh, hi, Y/N. Are you waiting for JD?”

“I am, but since he’s busy I thought I’d come see my second favorite person here.”

“... Carla?”

“No, Ted. You!”

“Nah, you’re just saying that. Wait, do you really mean that?”

“I do. Oh, there he is. See you later, handsome.”

Although your conversations were usually brief, you couldn’t help but to flirt a little. Ted was cute, and he had a variety of interests. Talking to him was kind of rocky at first, but eventually you’d get somewhere.

After a little while of brief interactions, you wanted to actually spend some time with Ted. So when you saw him, you got right to the point. “Hey, Ted. Listen, do you want to go on a date with me some time?”

“... You want to go on a date with me? Wow, I... I’m... hold on...” He was getting sweaty. Perhaps you’d overwhelmed him?

“If you don’t want to, it’s okay! I just... I like you, so I wanted to ask you out.”

“You really do?“

“I really do. Maybe we could go sing some karaoke?”

It took him a little bit to compose himself, but finally he agreed. He was visibly unwell, but that was just nerves.

[charnelhouse]

I really need Thor to tell me he's gonna fuck the sadness & anxiety outta me. Thanks for coming to my Ted talk

A/N: Thor x F!reader. Smut. Anxiety.

You stagger down to the lowest floor of the quinjet. Your hand flexes sporadically as you pin it to your chest. Your head throbs - flutters and pulses behind your skull. There’s blood staining your boots and your tac gear. There’s the taste of it in your mouth.

You brush past the others, not even pausing when Steve calls after you. 

“Let her go,” You hear Natasha tell them. “That was a lot.”

Yes. It was.

You stumble when you reach the storage locker. You can hear the wind scraping the steel of the jet. You can hear the vortex of space circulating around its hollow structure. There’s the sharp hum of the engine. You want to be out of it. You want to feel small and slight.

You catch your reflection in the mirrored surface of one of the weapon chests. There’s dark red drying beneath your nose, coating your top lip. You try to wipe it away, scrubbing furiously and knocking your hand against your teeth. You’d lost yourself. You’d nearly blown up the whole facility because you couldn’t get a firm grip on your powers. You’re certain that you’d been a sight: eyes gone pale and foggy, blood dripping from your nose and ears as you put your mind into overdrive. 

I wanted to save us. They threatened everyone. They threatened him.

You’d made four Hydra scientists burst like pink confetti.

Surprise. It’s a party.

At least that’s what Tony had said as he tried to make light of the situation. Everyone else has been stunned into silence.

You lean into the wall, shoving your forehead against the frigid steel. It hurts. Everything hurts and you’re -

“Stop.”

You go rigid. There’s a presence at your back. Warm and domineering and smelling of leather and sweat and ozone. You feel his hands on your hips, his chin resting atop your head. There’s the deep, swell of his breathing and when he seals himself to you, your body automatically moves with him. Undulating. Slow. His chest rises and so does yours. His heartbeat is regular and constant.

“Breathe,” he gently orders. “Relax. No one is blaming you for what happened back there.”

Thor would not normally speak like this. In fact, he probably would have boasted about you blowing up their enemies with a twitch of your nose. Did you see that?! Gods - that was beautiful. Barely lifted a finger. He usually would have been loud and unruly and supportive, but he has learned that it’s better to approach you gingerly. He listens - thoughtful and consoling.

“I couldn’t-couldn’t control it.” His grip on your hips tightens, his bearded jaw rubbing against your temple in a soothing manner. “I got so scared that they’d take down the facility with us in it.”

He makes a gruff noise of frustration before spinning you around. It’s a sudden movement. His hands are on your shoulders as he pins you to the wall. He tilts his head down - eyes boring into yours as he speaks to you in a harsh voice. “They would have. You saved us.”

“I can’t control it, Thor.”

He cups your cheek, his lips flattening to a thin line. He’s being patient with you. He’s trying to understand your panic even though you feel incredibly stupid for having a breakdown after every mission. You go to the ordered therapy sessions. You go to the meditation lessons. You do everything right except when it counts.

“Then we will train you more. There’s Wanda and Strange. They will help you. I will help you…” He gives you a suggestive look filled with heat and desire and longing. “…though I’m not the most patient person…definitely not very calm.” He brushes his thumb over your lower lip and you inhale sharply. He smells good. He smells safe and he’s looking at you with dark eyes and flushed cheeks. He’s so big that he’s able to cover you completely - hide you from everything outside of him. You clutch at his cape as you try to anchor yourself to his broad form. He protects you. He always does even when you don’t ask. He makes you feel tiny.

“Thor,” you whisper - his name cracking as you try and smother the sob that’s threatening to break out from your throat. It’s like he’s biologically connected to you, it’s like he feels it because his expression suddenly softens - concern shining bright as he lowers his head to nudge his nose against the tip of your own.

“What do you need?” He murmurs the question, mouth parting over yours in the feign of a kiss. He nips the corner of your lips as you take another shuddering breath.

You wonder if it’s wrong or unhealthy to crave him this way. It’s like clockwork. The second you begin to tip over the edge of a full-fledged panic attack, you reach for Thor. He fucks you. He makes it better. There was some part of you that instinctively knew he would follow you down here. He couldn’t leave you alone. It was how it happened the first time. You’d been nearly killed during a mission and he could see how stricken you were. He’d gone to your room. He’d strode toward you before his hands cradled the nape of your neck and he dragged you into a kiss so fierce it hurt. 

Let me make it better. Let me show you. 

“They’ll hear,” you murmur even though you’re already shoving at his trousers. He glances down between you, his lips quirking into an amused smile as you struggle with the Asgardian leather. 

“They won’t,” He pulls at the zipper of your suit before rucking it down, his palms sliding over your bare shoulders and arms. He cups your breasts, squeezing them as his eyes rake over your face. He’s studying you, searching for a single tell of hesitation. His nostrils flare. The line of his jaw flexes.

When he sees none, he captures your cheeks and forces you to his lips. His kiss is like a fever. It’s sloppy and desperate as his tongue tangles with yours, exploring the roof and cup of your mouth. It’s hot. Every part of him is absurdly gorgeous and you can’t seem to care that the flavor of his sweat is now behind your teeth.

You want more of his body. You want to trace every muscle - every vein and ligament and stretch of flesh. 

It takes nothing for him to lift you, hitching your knee over his waist as his fingers press and feel between your legs. He’s teasing your cunt, tweaking your clit - rubbing the seam of your sex with his knuckles and the pads of his fingertips.

“Fuck,” he rumbles because you’re soaked. You’re swelling with arousal for him and, your grief, the chaos beneath your skin, has lessened to a buzz. Thor has pushed it away from you with every rough kiss and harsh squeeze.

“You know,” he recalls in a low, ragged voice. “I saw them threaten you and I felt that fury - that rage - that I haven’t felt in a long…long time.” He’s inside you - two of his fingers pumping deep and wet and loud. “Someone trying to take something that was mine.” He growls. You try and bite down the moans leaking out of you, he’s stretching your pussy - deliberate in every slide and twist of his calloused knuckles. “I’m glad you killed them.” He licks into your mouth - nearly feral. “Because I would have done it myself.”

You grimace - shutting your eyes at the pressure of him breaking you open. It’s too much. His words. His touch. “Look at me,” he demands and you do because you’re mindless at this point - just following simple direction. “It wasn’t your fault…you did what you had to do.”

You can feel him releasing himself from his trousers. There’s the shift and squeak of his boots - the crude sound of your cunt being finger-fucked to oblivion. His eyebrows draw together as he stares at you. He’s cheeks flush. “Tell me you understand.”

His thumb finds your clit and you jerk, nails digging into the back of his neck - under the damp curtain of his golden hair. “Tell me,” he repeats and you nod - fast and out of control because you’ll do anything he says as long as he keeps going.

“Good girl,” he smiles and it’s stunning. It’s full of genuine delight - hunger and a burning desire to help you.

You drag him toward you again - kissing him blindly. The rolling beat of please please please spouted in a rush against his moving lips. You’re delirious. In love. Outmatched by everything he is and you need him like you need your bones - your lungs and heart.

“I know,” he hushes you. “I know.”

His cock nudges against your entrance. It is a heavy, blunt push as he guides himself into your wet heat inch by inch before sinking deep in one, long stroke. You gasp against his mouth. It is raw and bruising as he roots himself in the slick clutch of your sex. There is always pain - a bright sting that dilutes with every snap and saw of his hips as he begins to move. He is not careful now. He is anything, but that. His pace is punishing though he keeps his hand behind your skull to cushion it as every rut drives you up the wall. He wants you to understand. He wants to make you only see him - feel him. Your body wraps around his - your insides molding to the heavy length of his cock that seems to punch against the furthest piece of your core.

“Focus on me,” he quietly urges. “Only me, my love.”

Yes. Yes. Yes. There is only him. There is only the sound of his grunts and his groans and his wet skin slapping against yours.

The pain and the worry all dissolves into a delicious ache concentrated on where you are connected. It blinds and deafens you. You cling to him tighter as he whispers dirty frantic word into your ear.

Do you like it like this? Do you need it? Look at you. Your cunt is barely able to keep me in there. You’re doing so well - trying so hard. My gorgeous girl. I’d beg for it. I’d beg you on my knees.

[preciouslandmermaid]

nothing’s gonna hurt you baby (carmy x f!reader) - part 9

Note: Thank you to everyone who has been so UNREASONABLY patient for this update. I went on vacation and then immediately went back to work and had approximately zero downtime and then I started hyperfixating on The Sandman. Also, a wonderful anon made a playlist for this fic! Listen to it here (spotify)  

Warnings/Tags: Explicit language

Synopsis: You deal with the colossal explosion of your dad’s visit and discover how deep the shrapnel goes. 

You’re starting to trust that friendship means letting someone see fallout and hoping they don’t flinch.

(Read on Ao3) |||| (Masterlist)  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You’ve got a migraine from Hell the next morning. It felt like someone stuck a tube up your nose and filled your cranium with shards of glass and that were also on fire. You medicated with caffeine and Excedrin and sequestered yourself into the back of the kitchen.

You would be absolutely miserable if you had to do front of house today. It had nothing to do with the subtle, bubbling fear that your dad would show up again. There was plenty to do. And if Dani, Ted, or Leslie noticed your mood—they were gracious enough not to mention it. Your phone remained quiet on your desk as if the Universe knew you were in a piss-poor mood. Not even Carmy texted you.

Which was fine. It was! You were both busy with your bullshit. It was day two of your opening. You had custom orders to process, and invoices, and supplies to replenish. Your day started well before your trilling alarm and ended only when you closed your eyes at night. You knew his daily life wasn’t chill or easy. He walked around, rumpled with exhaustion and grief, and carried a duffel bag of emotional baggage over his shoulder.

But – okay, okay – fine – maybe you were expecting something after yesterday. A check-in? A stupid meme? Something, anything, that meant everything was still cool between you two after you dumped all your daddy issues onto him. You scrubbed your hands over your face with a quiet groan, watching the stars dance before your eyelids. You couldn’t text him first. What would you say? It’s not like he needed to know how you were. You could just move past it naturally. Let time erode the awkwardness and return to the tentative friendship shared between you.

You folded the yellow receipt for the delivery of your walk-in fridge into an origami frog. The meditative nature of carefully folding helped to ease your pounding head and anxious thoughts. You smiled fondly at the little creature and balanced it upon your filing cabinet.

“Look after the office while I’m gone.” You said to it before snatching your apron from the wall and joining Ted and Dani in the kitchen.  

Shortly before closing, you hefted a heavy garbage bag over your shoulder and dumped it into the bin in the alley with a grunt. The flies buzzed noisily, disturbed by your action, and the rank smell of literal hot garbage forced your throat to gag. You wiped your palms together and grimaced. The less glamorous aspects to business ownership, you supposed.

A car door slammed behind you, followed by your name, and you spun—heart racing—to see your dad stalking toward you. He wore a bright, blue polo shirt and beige khakis and shiny brown loafers. He was the perfect picture of a middle-aged, middle-class ordinary man. However, his expression was unlike any other you’d seen before. Granted, your catalog of dad-expressions were extremely limited and muddled over time. You folded your arms across your chest. His perfect little family wasn’t with him. You wondered where he left them. The hotel? The zoo? Anything was possible with someone as flighty and irresponsible as your dad. Your breath stuttered in your chest.

“I need to talk to you about last night.” He said sternly, settling his hands on his hips, the face of his silver watch flashed in the hot, June sun.

“Are you seriously this pissed just because I didn’t call you for dinner?”

“No, not that.” He shook his head. “I’m referring to the two goons you sent to the hotel. They bullied me. Told me not to speak to you!” He pointed to his clean-shaven cheek, “One of them assaulted me! He was about this tall—” He gestured, “—I need his contact information so I can press charges. I assume you have it on hand since they were adamant about your friendship.”

Your brow furrowed. Did your dad lose a few screws on his drive over? For starters, he appeared completely fine. No bruises, no blood, no obvious signs of assault. Secondly, you had no idea who he was even talking about. Goons? You’d snort with laughter over the word if you weren’t so flabbergasted by his accusations. The only person who knew your dad visited was Carmy…but he didn’t…he couldn’t have…done anything…right? If you were to trust your dad’s description, Carmy wasn’t that tall, and it couldn’t be Richie.

Actually, it could be Richie. That actually sounded feasible. Shit. Did Richie seriously punch your dad?

He kept talking. “Now, I’m willing to put this whole unpleasant business behind us, once the person is charged, and we can celebrate your opening – as a family – tonight or tomorrow.”

You scoffed, throat tightening, and anger burning low in your gut, “I’m sorry, did you just say family?”

“Yes, kiddo. That’s what we are.” He smiled with perfect, straight teeth. “Now, I know I haven’t been around much but—”

“Much?!” You cut in, astonished at the gall of him, “You weren’t around at all!”

He sighed, eyes pleading. “I know, but I’m trying.”

“Why?” You stepped forward with fingertips digging into your arms. “Why now? After all this time?”

“The boys need a good role model.”

Your anger erupted from smoldering to supernova. “Stop!” You laughed, throwing your hands up, “Stop bringing your fucking kids into this! They aren’t pawns on a fucking chessboard. Just be honest with me—you couldn’t be honest with mom—and you abandoned me—abandoned us—so I’m asking you to do something good for once in your fucking life and be honest!

“Why the FUCK are you here?”

His gaze hardened, “Now, honey, I understand you’re upset, but that is no way to your father.”

A rogue fly buzzed around your head. All the pain inside leaked like a corrupted, infected wound. You trembled with it. You wanted to scream until your throat went raw. Dozens of birthdays rolled out before you with fragile hope that he’d walk through the door. A thousand holidays where the mailbox was empty – no letters or cards from him. A flipbook of skinned knees, and wiggly teeth, and listening to your mom weep in the kitchen when she thought you had already gone to bed. A childhood of acting Perfect because you thought that’s what you needed to do bring him back.

Then, as you got older, you endeavored for perfection to lessen the burden of your existence on your mom. Because how could she possibly heal with the constant reminder of him by her knees? How could she focus on her career if she was busy meeting your principal or trying to help you with homework? You didn’t want to upset her life. You made yourself small, and quiet, like a ghost in your big house in Cincinnati. Until your grandfather rescued you.

He gave you warmth, and gentleness, and focused attention you were uncertain you deserved. He practiced your multiplication tables with you over the phone. He sprayed you with the cold hose while he watered the garden. He winked at you across the dinner table whenever grandma said something amusing. He pulled you from the sidelines of your life and brought you onto the stage.

“You’re not my father.” You said, choking down a sob. “My father died a few months ago. You saw the interview about him, didn’t you?” You blinked away your tears. For a moment, your dad was stunned and speechless, his eyes glassy.

“You weren’t there.” You pointed an accusatory finger at him. “You weren’t there to – to help me when I fell down. When – when I scraped my knees or – or -- when a boy in third grade I had ugly teeth. You missed every single birthday and I wished for you!”

The tears flooded your lower lashes and spilled down your cheeks, tasting like absolution on the corners of your trembling lips.

“Do you have any idea how that feels? To be ten years old and while other kids were wishing for Nintendo’s and ponies – I was sitting there wishing for my dad to come home.” You inhaled raggedly. “And you never came back. It was like I stopped existing for you. It was like I didn’t matter. You were my hero.”

“So, you don’t get to stand here – a-and act like we’re a family or that we have any sort of relationship because we don’t. Okay? We don’t. You could have called! And don’t try to say you couldn’t or that Mom wouldn’t let you—because—"

You sniffled, “A few years ago, Mom told me that you used to call her, but it was only for money. It was never to talk to me.” Somewhere around the six-year mark of their separation, your Mom said she blocked his number, and rerouted any of his calls to her lawyer. It broke her heart, she said, to answer that phone and foolishly hope he’d ask for you.

The tendons in his neck flared, “I fell on hard times…once or twice.” He admitted quietly. “I’m trying, sweetie, I’m trying to—"

You blurted, “Why are you here?!”

“I regret how things ended between your mother and I.” He clasped his hands together, “You must believe me about that. I regret missing your childhood.”

You pressed your tear-stained lips together. “You missed all of it, dad. You missed everything.”

“I know.” He nodded, “I know.”

You felt a blade against your skin at the question in the back of your mind. You didn’t want to ask this. It was going to cut you open and flay you alive if you did. But, you had to know the truth. Did your dad actually have regrets? Or was this another ploy? Was it another sob-story to trap you into writing a check like your Mom? Your lips quivered and you wrapped your arms tightly around yourself, holding yourself together, and wishing—with your whole heart—that your instincts would be proved false.

You asked softly, “Are you here for money?”

He averted your eyes, lips thinning.

“Are you here for money?” You repeated, feeling ice crawl over your limbs, numbing them. “I won’t have a relationship with you built on dishonesty, dad. Are you here for money?”

“Marilyn was laid off.” He said with difficulty, “and I – they cut my hours, you know, they’ve been outsourcing everything 'cause it’s cheaper overseas! It’s ruining the economy.”

Your lips twitched with a disbelieving smile and stayed quiet. Sometimes, the best offense was letting your opponent spill their own guts.

“I want to be in your life and yes – yes I – we could use your help.” He said, “I’m not so prideful that I can’t admit when I need help.”

“What do you say, huh? The bakery closes soon, doesn’t it? We can go get pancakes. You still – you still like pancakes, don’t you?” He smiled weakly, “And we can talk. We can talk this whole thing through. We can start over. We can be a family.”

The child-version of you, quiet and vulnerable, the little girl who thought her dad put the stars in the sky wanted so badly to say yes. You wrapped your arms around her and kissed the top of her head. Because, if you say yes, there was only one way this story goes, and it ends in heartbreak and disappointment. Your mom loaned your dad thousands of dollars over the years to bail him out of bad investments, and gambling debts, and overall poor life choices.

Maybe she did it because she loved him. Maybe she did it because you still loved him. He always thanked her once the check cleared, and they never spoke again until he needed her. You couldn’t follow that same path. You would break the cycle and your own heart. You closed your eyes briefly, tears overfilling, and pursed your lips.

“Kiddo?”

You opened your eyes to see your dad’s hopeful face. He expected you to say yes. But you were your grandfather’s child. You were made of silver cufflinks and white roses, delicate origami, and crossword puzzles. You imagined his warm, soft hands squeezing your shoulders. ‘Grow up, get over it,’ You suddenly remembered the second half of his favorite phrase, ‘There are greener pastures over the hill.’ He was right. You had a whole, bright, and beautiful field of the future laid out before you.  

“The answer is no.” You said, firm and clear. “And don’t come back here again.”

You added, “Please.”

He called your name when you walked away, but the heavy door closed behind you, and he did not try to follow you or start slamming his fist on the door. You weren’t sure how to feel about that. He never fought for you as a kid. He wouldn’t fight for you now. You battled the warring emotions inside your chest and relaxed your spine against the warm metal door.

You flattened your palms over your face, shoulders trembling, and cried over your dad for the second time today.

“Boss?” Ted’s concerned voice, resonate and warm, “You okay?”

“Nah.” You chuckled wetly, “I’m fucking awful, actually.”

Ted seemed at a loss for words, then he brightened, “Oh! Well – someone from the Beef came by and dropped lunch off. Do you want some? Can’t cry on an empty stomach that’s what I always say.”

You swiped at your tears with your knuckles, “W-what?”

Who from the Beef? And why? Could it have been Carmy? Or Marcus? How many surprises would this day throw at you?

“Yeah!” Ted smiled. “It’s chicken.”

You numbly followed Ted into your office where a Styrofoam container waited at your desk. Someone had written your name on a piece of neon green tape and affixed it to the front. You sank into your chair and lifted the top, steam wafted around your fingers, and condensation dripped from the inside of container. It smelled incredible and fragrant with notes of lemon and butter and garlic, you recognized the dish as lemon chicken piccata.

Ted smiled down at you, clapping your shoulder kindly, “Take your time, Boss. Everyone deserves a break.”

He left shortly thereafter, and you stabbed the included plastic fork into the dish. Did Carmy make this? It fell apart in your mouth, wonderfully juicy, and rich with herbs and tangy lemon. You choked back your laughter to stop yourself from, you know, actually choking. A fresh wellspring of tears brightened your eyes. Your stomach grumbled appreciatively, reminding you of your hunger, your humanity. You ate several bites, grinning, letting the flavors overtake your tongue and warm you from the inside out.

You reached for your phone and sent a single, simple text to him.

‘IDK who made this chicken but it’s fire. Thank you.’ You included a few flame emojis to embellish the message.

‘Thanks, Chef.’

‘Was it you?’

His response didn’t arrive until a few minutes later. You didn’t mind. It gave you time to eat.

‘Yeah, it was.’ Followed by a quick, ‘I’m glad you like it.’

Your heart flipped inside your chest. He made it for you. Okay, you could get technical and say he made it for everyone at the Rookie Cookie, but—he took time out of his busy day to send someone over with lunch. Because…because…why? You paused, worrying your lower lip between your teeth, lingering with the taste of his food. Because you were friends? Because he knew your dad was in town and he saw how wrecked it made you?

You smiled, unable to resist teasing him, ‘I guess that time at NOMA paid off, huh?’

‘Guess so.’

You set your phone back down onto your desk and were intent on finishing the meal before it got cold. Your phone buzzed again, surprising you, and you tapped the front screen to reveal the message waiting.

‘It’s a family recipe.’

You leaned back into your desk chair, breath caught in a snare, as the implications rolled across your mind like fresh snow. It wasn’t just about the food. It was about what it represented. He didn’t just throw together a sandwich. He gave you a piece of his family, his past, almost like…like how you gave him a piece of yours (just with less crying and destruction of hotel business cards).

Your knee bounced, checking the time, and counting backward inside your head. Generally, your bakery closed around the time The Beef closed for lunch to prep for dinner. Now, maybe it was the adrenaline waning from your tense, soul-ripping conversation with your dad. Or maybe it was this sweet, moving gesture of a family recipe on your desk. But you buzzed with restlessness and a hidden, quiet desire to see him.

He's across the street. You drummed your fingers on your desk. He told you he wouldn’t mind if you came around. You shoveled the final bite into your mouth and unlaced your apron.

“Dani, heading out! You’re in charge!” You shouted before leaving.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The front door of the Beef is closed with their dinner hours posted. You didn’t hesitate and your sneakers scuffed against the sidewalk at your short-stop. You circled around to the back. All the smokers were – surprise! – smoking. Richie and Tina sat on the wooden benches, Ebra’s arms hung over the staircase metal railing, and Carmy stood nearby everyone with his hand on his hips and back to you.

Ebrahim noticed you first, “Carmy! Your girlfriend is here!” He announced with an excited smile.

Carmy half-turned just in time for you to throw your arms around his shoulders in an abrupt embrace.

“Hey-o!” Richie shouted, laughing.

He was comfortingly warm, solid, and unmoving in your grasp. Chest-to-chest, you could feel his heartbeat, and the whisper of his breath on your neck. His curly hair brushed against the side of your face – painfully familiar and soft. You squeezed him tightly. He didn’t reciprocate the hug, but that hardly mattered.

You said, “I heard you met my dad,” before puling away and playfully punching his shoulder.

His neck flushed and he scratched the side of his nose with his thumb. “Shit, uh, yeah – you heard about that, huh?” Carmy looked embarrassed. Whether it was from the hug, or being found out, you didn’t know and weren’t going to waste time asking. You had someone else you needed to thank.  

“That’s not all.” You took a small step toward Richie. “I also heard you punched my dad.”

You grabbed Richie’s face between your palms and you’re grateful that he’s sitting down because otherwise the height difference would make this impossible. His eyes widened, but he doesn’t squirm away. You planted a kiss to each grizzled cheek; his short beard tickled your lips. Carmy coughed and turned his face away.

“Thank you.” You said, earnest and warm, “Seriously.”

Richie grinned between your hands, “Ah – shit. Anytime, sweetheart.”

Tina piped up, “What? Your dad some kind of shithead?”

You laughed, “The worst kind of shithead. The kind who doesn’t speak to his daughter for two decades and then turns up asking for money.”

Ebrahim whistled lowly behind you. “What a shit.”

You shrugged, “It’s over now.”

“Next time he’s around, you tell me.” Ebra said, tapping his chest with two fingers, “I do more than little bitch slap from Richie.”

“Hey! Fuck you!” Richie shouted at him.

Ebra laughed, “Fuck you!” He opened the back door and Richie followed him inside with good-natured threats of ‘showing Ebra how it happened’. You slid your hands into the back pockets of your jeans and sighed, though a smile lingered at your mouth, and your eyes went to Carmy as if drawn by magnetic force. Tina took a long drag of her cigarette and crossed her legs, watching you like a soap opera. You considered waiting for her to finish her cigarette before talking to Carmy, but time is precious, and you’re bursting at the seams with fondness.

Because no one stood up for you like that before. Richie risked possible arrest (but that was Richie). It was about Carmy using his limited hours in his day to do something for you. He went to the hotel. He confronted your dad. Although you didn’t know what was said, you got the essence, and didn’t need anything else. He deviated from his daily routine and responsibility because you were hurting.

Carmy was quickly becoming your favorite person.

“I can’t believe you did that.” You said to him.

“Yeah, me either.” He searched your face, something soft and vulnerable in the lines of his shoulders, and in the exhaustion of his clear eyes, “You pissed?”

“A little, yeah.” You smiled, “I hate it when people stick their nose in my business, remember?”

“Yeah.” He smiled wryly, “Yeah, I know.”

“But…um…” You licked your lips, “The rules are a little different for friends…so…” A golden, warm light spilled through the fractures in your heart. He watched you with quiet interest, the ember of his cigarette burning dangerously close to the filer, and you felt…you felt seen. You ballooned with joy and appreciation.

“Give me twenty-four hours and I’ll get over it.” You said.  

His eyebrows lifted, “Yeah?” He asked softly. You bit your lower lip and offered him a small nod.

Tina snickered, snubbing her cigarette out on the edge of the bench before standing. “Oh, you’ve got your hands full with this one, loquita.”

She patted your shoulder before ascending the steps and disappearing into the Beef.

In the moment of the door opening, you heard Richie call out, “T! Settle this bet for us!” Your smiled widened. You loved this little group of weirdos. Your chaotic, loud neighbors across the street – what would you do without them?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Carmy tossed his cigarette before it could burn his fingers. You stood inches away – a breath away – and all he could feel was your arms around him. His skin tingled. He wanted to rewind time. He wanted to wrap his arms around you and bury his nose into the crook of your shoulder. But he froze, speechless and confused.

Everything happened too fast including how you kissed Richie’s cheeks and his strangled reaction to it. You lingered, not leaving, though you both knew you’d have to. He needed to prep for dinner. You had to finish closing.

He selfishly drank in the sight of you, a little pleased that tears weren’t glistening in your eyes and appreciating how your smile illuminated the warmth in your eyes. You were so goddamn incredible. He sent Ebra to deliver your lunch with the vain hope that the food could say what he couldn’t. You brought him a gentle, lulling sense of peace, of comfort. You were his only friend. He didn’t want to lose that – lose you – and he didn’t want you to be stressed, or sad, or heartbroken like you were yesterday.

“You know, uh,” He cleared his throat nervously, “He’s missing out.”

You flashed that brilliant, wonderful smile at him. It felt warmer than the sun. “Mhm. I know.”

“For the record, just because Richie will run with – uh – with it. He slapped him. He didn’t punch him.” Carmy said. You moved imperceptibly closer, and your fingertips grazed against his, not quite holding his hand but…considering it. His veins illuminated, heart skipping and running from him, as wild as a motorcycle through Manhattan. Carmy exhaled slowly, savoring the passing touch, and peering down at you with a clench in his chest that reminded him of a panic attack.

“Ah,” You shook your head, “It’s alright, I’ll give him this one.” You dropped your hand away from his and though the summer air was humid and sweltering—it felt cold in the absence of your touch. He drummed his bereft fingertips against his leg.

“Hm.” His lips twitched into a gentle smile. “Be prepared to not hear the end of it.”

You fell into a comfortable sense of semi-silence as Chicago buzzed with vibrant life around you. He thought about offering you a cigarette so you would stay. His gaze flickered up to the receiving door, considering the time left, and how he could make it stretch. Why did it always feel like he was running out of time with you? He should be focused on prep. On dinner. But he wanted to linger and bask in the light of your smile.

“I better head back.” You said, likely noticing his attention, and jumping on his train of thought.

“W-wa-“ He almost said wait. Instead, he said, “W-well yeah. Me too.”

“Thanks again.” You muttered tenderly before stepping away.

His forehead creased, “For what? You – you never said. I mean I didn’t punch your dad.”

“For…trying to help?” You shrugged a little, tucking your hands into your pockets again and looking a little self-conscious for the first time. “For not expecting me to handle it alone, I guess? I don’t know. It’s um – uh – it’s been awhile since someone…anyone, really…had my back...and it’s nice.”

You made a screwed-up face, “Annoying. But nice.”

“Nice, huh?” He ducked his head away from your gaze, “That’s an improvement from calling me fucking asshole.”

“Yeah, well, I got a soft-spot for idiots in white t-shirts.” You teased, “Someday I’ll figure out how you manage to keep that shit so pristine.”

Carmy tugged the lace of his blue apron, “Uniform.”

The sound of your laughter softened the edges of the sharp world. “Ok, smartass. I’m outta here.” You said, taking a step backward, and offered him a farewell smile to his nod before walking away. He touched the cold railing near the stairs and his chest pulled at the sight of you disappearing around the brick corner. He swallowed and pressed his lips together. He’d see you again soon.

But goodbyes shouldn’t feel this weird between friends, should they?

[the-fiction-witch]

Down By The River

TV SHOW GODLESS COUPLE: WHITEY WINN X READER RATING: SMUT AF

I sat on my house bored out of my damn mind. Bill was working in the office, mary agnes out hunting, the pub shut for the week so the old man could head up to Boston see his nieces and there youngens. I was so bored! Nothing to do with my day, well I suppose I could clean my house? Nah. I gave up sitting around and went out sorting my horse ted for a ride out somewhere maybe go down by the river for a while. I mounted him and we headed out of town walking the dusty, dirty desert paths of this new mexico territory. I avoided blackdom like the plague, I didn't want to see louise she was pissed enough at me for what I did, I didn't mean to it just... Kinda happened. We had gone walking on a usual little I suppose you could call it a courting afternoon a little date in the woods, we went walking a good while and I did my best to be a gentleman but we ended up having a few little kisses but I hadn't seen her in a while and since we where alone I got.. a little handsy, she got mad and slapped me and hasn't spoken to me since. I don't think she'd wanna see me heading out. I got down to the usual spot down by the river I let ted drink and took a seat on the dirt beside the water slipping my boots off to dunk my toes in the water watching the sky, and the clouds. I sat here a good long while before I noticed a little way up the steam stood a young lady, no older then me, stood by the river with a black horse she was humming a tune I could barely hear, getting a loaded basket from her horse she walked over setting it by the river getting a washboard and kneeling beside the river I couldn't help but look at her, in her almost knee high black lace up boots, her ankle length blue dress that was fairly dirty, a brown leather I suppose corset a few inches thick around her waist tied with harsh ropes, the dress had long blue sleaves that she had rolled to her elbows, a square neck that left most of her breasts exposed, the curve of them obvious above the top hemming fo the dress, a necklace against her skin sitting perfectly against her, when she moved to scrub rather vigorously on the washboard I could almost look down her cleavage, her hair up inna tight updo not too unlike many of the ladies in town a little dirt on her face from where she had clearly been at this a while now. I couldn't deny, I was... Enjoying looking at her. She was very beautiful and very... Ummm desirable. I tried not to think about it knowing the trouble thinking like that got me In with louise that and I didn't want to seem like a perv. But I couldn't deny, watching her was fun, and I couldn't tear my eyes away from her and those bouncy breasts, I bit my mouth a little watching her. Just as I did she looked up and saw me she smiled and waved so I waved back she clearly looked me over so I did the same to her pretending that I hadn't already done it and she giggled a little she returned her focus to her washing but I noticed she went lower on the washboard letting me see down her dress, she hitched her skirt a little letting me see the stockings below that clung to her legs desperately, I bit my mouth a little harder watching her clean her laundry. She would often glance up at me catching my eye, she knew what she was doing and it kinda wound me up a little knowing she was doing it on purpose, I saw at one time as she moved some laundry away getting some more she undid a button or two on the dress letting me see even more of her breasts skin letting me see he cleavage all the way from her neck to the centre of her chest the tighteners of her dress and corset all that concealed her I smirked at her watching that little innocent look she kept giving me, I waited for her to look over again and I moved my knees apart enough for her to see how hard she was making me. Which only made her smile more as she saw me, fuck little lady umm look how hard your making me darlin, you know what your doing, and your fucking lovin' it aren't ya. She finished her laundry and I was a little disappointed that my show was over but she turned away and began unlacing the leather belt. I smirked unable to stop my hand gently stroking myself over my jeans watching it drop, and them she undid the dress pushing it off her too leaving her in an underdress a corset, her stockings and her boots she turned to me and giggled a little putting her foot up on a rock undoing her boots and kicking it off he foot then hitching her underdress up to the top of her stocking slowly pulling it down her leg never breaking eye contact with me the whole time, I undid my belt and slipped my hand in I didn't care all I was seeing was a little leg she had wound me up so much a flash of ankle was all I fucking needed, gently jerking myself watching her as she did the same on her other leg she turned away again unlacing the corset until that too fell to the floor I was egar, already close as she slipped the underdress off her shoulders letting it pool around her arms before she turned back and began washing the dress and stockings she had just removed making sure I got a good view but I made sure she did too, pulling my pants down letting her see exactly what I was doing for her. She continued washing the clothes slowly to tease me before hanging them over a near by tree, she smiled slipping the underdress off and I'm surprised I did cum! She stood there naked, her feet against the dust, her long beautiful legs glistening in the sun, her gorgeous pussy exposed, her hips and curves so clear to me, her waist so snug from her corset, her breasts bare and bouncing as she breathed, her hands on her waist, as she looked around ignoring me and my reaction to her Fuck she looks amazing! But I didn't get to look for long as she jumped in the river. I didn't need any more information I stood and stripped my clothes off as quickly as I could getting naked too and jumping in the river with her we instantly found each other wrapping our arms around each other mine around her waist her own around my neck "Hello" she smiled "Hi." I smiled back "what was all that about?" "You were watching. I wanted to give you a show. Not fair you ride all the way out here without something" "How very kind of ya darlin" "What where you doing?" She asked gently rubbing her hips against me "Well ya where givin me such a good show. I thought I betta give ya one back" "It was an impressive show" "Yeah? So was yours darlin'" Before we could exchange another word she pulled me to kiss her I happily kissed her back our kisses becoming hungry and lustfull instantly. Her hands went exploring me so I happily did on her too she was so soft, so supple, so squishy and sexy my hands grabbed her ass and fondled her hard but she smiled into the kiss rubbing on my chest she moved slightly up a moment pressing her breasts against my chest so I instantly wrapped my arms around her to try and keep her there felling her so soft against me but she moved down a little but this way my hard cock sat between her thighs and between the lips of her pussy she gently moved her hips and I did too still groping her sexy ass and kissing her hard till I pulled back to gasp for breath which made her get faster and made me press my body and my head against her "ummmm darlin' that feels so good" I groaned "I bet I would be better inside" she giggled pushing in me a little gentle stroking my v "I- I uhhh I've never-" "Never? You haven't fucked a girl before?" "No" "Umm fine" she whined going to move away but I grabbed her kissing her and groping as much as I could "Just because I haven't doesn't mean I won't. If ya want me to" "I do" she whispered "I want you" "... I want ya too" I whispered back with a slight groan she didn't need to be told twice she grabbed me and we began to kiss again she pulled on me a little until her back met the bank of the river, her legs wrapped around me so I pulled on her hips a little both of us moving slightly as we kissed until I slipped inside her she gasped grabbing my hair forcing my head over her shoulder "fuck!" I gasped feeling how warm and wet she was grabbing her ass hard "darlin'! Ya feel so good! Ahh christ you feel good!" I swore unable to think straight I felt her lick up my jaw and cheek before nibbling on my ear and whispering "Then fuck me cowboy" I grabbed her hips and ass hard moving as fast and hard as I could she tightened her grip too already clawing down my back as I thrusted we both kissed hard making out Intensely to prevent us screaming at the top of our lungs where it felt so good but I knew I was close and she was to tight around me so she began making hikis on my neck leaving bright red and purple marks across my neck and shoulder "fuck! I love your cunt ya beautiful girl!" I groaned lost in a wave of pleasure and kissing all over her skin "I don't ever Wanna stop!" "Then don't!" She squealed slightly moving herself on me so I got as fast as I could and barely a moment later she screamed tightening every grip she had around me and even around my cock which was enough after a couple more thrusts for me to hit my orgasum so I quickly pulled out of her and finished in the water we both gasped, stroking each other a moment as we kinda got back to reality "You... Are amazing" "Hehe not to bad yourself cowboy" she giggled "I've never seen ya before, are ya from round here?" "No, just passing thought. Been traveling a good while now looking for somewhere you know" "Well, if your lookin' I know a lovely little town just a little north from here with a very accommodating deputy" "Is there now?" "Yeah, I'm sure... I could find a bed for ya" "I bet you could." She smirked pulling me back to her lips which I happily kissed if much slower this time till we both pulled back "y/n" "Whitey, so did ya wanna come back to town with me?" "Sure. I gotta go back to my wagon thought it's set up a little way south of here" she says climbing out the river and drying herself off I smirked and climbed out too wrapping my arms around her waist pressing myself against her "that's no problem darlin, I'll escort your sexy ass personally" I smirked slapping her ass "Will you now? Bet that's not the only thing you'll do with my ass when we get to this cute little town of yours" she smirked grinding herself on me taking one of my hands and putting it on her breast I smirked giving her boob and fondle and a grope "Ohh it won't darlin. Now sure I can even wait to get ya back to labelle, might have to fuck ya again right here" "You do, I won't give my cowboy his special present when we get to this little town of yours, labelle you said?" She smirked getting dressed "Ohh and what would that be?" I asked her she smiled slipping her undergraments on and turning to face me she smirked giving my lips a peek before she moved to her knees sucking and kissing my still half hard cock "oohh! That! Uuuuhhhhh! Y/n darlin please don't stop!" I begged feeling that warm soft mouth driving me crazy grabbing her hair throwing my head back "uuuuhhhhh darlin'! I'm gonna cum twice in a row for ya if ya don't stop!" I whined unsure I wanted her to stop or keep going I didn't care someone could see us she just felt so good she pulled back and wiped her mouth "I'll finish up once we get to labelle whitey" she giggled going to continue getting dressed but I was now fully hard and precum dripping down my shaft I grabbed her hard grinding on her ass and grabbing her boobs "Ohh no ya don't darlin, ya can't just get on ya knees and suck my cock till I'm hard enough to cum and then walk off shaking that sexy ass at me" "Why not?" "Ummmm because I still want ya. And I still need ya baby" "If you wait he can go in here" she giggled grinding her ass on me "Umm tempting but I wanna go back in that slutty mouth" "How about I get back to my wagon and you" she smirked pushing me hard so I felt back into the river "you put your clothes back on, and figure out how exactly your getting your horse on to this side of the river" she smirked And it clicked ahh fuck she has a point... I went back and got dressed and luckily found a little place I could go over the river following her off to this wagon she had "So what is this place like then?" "You'll like it. Mostly ladies. Nice bar. Lovely and safe" "What's it called again?" "labelle" "Who's this accommodating deputy then?" "I am darlin" "I suppose you'd be kind enough to let me stay in town, out of the goodness of your heart?" "Something like that yeah" "Course if I had a little house and a stable for lillen then I'd be ever so grateful" 'ohh I bet ya would. Well I till such a time as we get a little house square for ya, there's always the hotel." I said "or... Ya could come and snuggle at the foot of my bed?" "I could, what kinda rent would you be charging me then cowboy?" "How's about? A fuck and a suck a week? How's that sound" "Seems excessive for some backwater mining town" "Well I'll get ya a very nice house" "Sure you would" "Then how about a fuck a week and ya let me slap that sexy ass as much as I want?" "How about one suck a week and I'll come right over whenever I need my sexy cowboy" "... Deal" I smirked as we arrived at her little wagon so she tied her horse up in the empty spot with another "I'll lead, ya follow me back. Ya can stay with me tonight, and I'll be needing some rent. In advance" I told her starting to lead her to labelle.

"You wanna know why they call me whitey Winn? Because I always do" I smiled playing with my gun belt "ha! Now you weren't expecting that now where ya, or that" "And what exactly have you ever won whitey?" Y/n giggled I laughed a little, turning to see her just coming into the office working her ribbon into her hair I smiled at her in the little blue dress she wore when I first met her down by the river, she never did have her own little house I think maybe a month or two and she just moved in with me officially, we ended up getting married maybe four or five months after we met even If bill and Maggie thought I was crazy for marrying her so soon, but christ do I fucking love that girl. We moved down away from the office into a little house across town with a garden and stables for the horses once we were married that and we wanted to be a bit further from everyone as.. we could be loud, the banging, the screaming, the swearing, and other such things that and we wanted more space anyway "I won you didn't I?" I smirked "I suppose so" she giggled "how so I look?" She asked doing a little spin I smiled and held her hands kissing her sweet lips "Beautiful my darlin, you and baby look adorable" I told her stroking her bump thought her dress "We do?" "Of course ya do. But ya always look beautiful y/n" I told her "is it time to come home?" "Yes, dinners on and it's bath night remember whitey" "Oohh I get my sexy wifey to come give me a bath" "You can bathe yourself whitey" "Yeah well, I wanna see a time I have a bath and ya don't come and jump on my cock because ya miss me too bad" "Ummmm how I got into this whole situation in the first place" she sighed stroking her bump and heading out the door "home, or no sex till next week" she warns "I'm coming" I laughed getting my stuff and following her home.

[fandomwriterstuff]

Quarantine Queen

Darcy was, for all intents and purposes, an extrovert. She thrived on being around people, engaging with them, all that jazz. So when Dr. Doom’s minions released a pathogen that led to the entirety of Manhattan being quarantined and sick with an extra-strength virus, she started going stir crazy.

She lived in an apartment building not too far from the Avengers Tower (where she worked in the labs). However, she barely left the tower and only slept in her apartment. She never had food stocked in the fridge. Just vodka in the freezer and some microwave meals stacked behind it.

So, when everything went into lockdown while she was asleep, she panicked.

Can I go to the grocery store? I don’t have any food.

She’d sent it in the tower group chat, hoping the resident Avengers would know more about the situation than she did.

Tin Man: What do you mean no food? You’re the one always making us come to family dinner at the tower.

She rolled her eyes and sent back: Yeah, at the tower. I don’t think I’ve ever eaten a meal in my apartment.

Tin Man: I’ll have JARVIS order essentials to be sent to your apartment with no-contact delivery.

HawkDaddy: I got the sickness, please send me soup.

Darcy frowned. It had only been a day since the quarantine started, how did he get sick so fast?

Tin Man: I only send delivery to my favorites.

HawkDaddy: :(

Darcy laughed and rolled her eyes. Her friends were so weird. But then again, she was friends with a bunch of super people. She couldn’t even make friends in her apartment complex because she was never there.

She ended up pulling her knitting supplies out from under her bed to make a Mjolnir-themed sweater for Thor. There wasn’t much work she could do from home since Jane was also not in the labs.

She knitted and had Ted Lasso on in the background on the TV until six, when there was a knock on her door. She startled, dropping a stitch, but quickly recovered and hurried to look through the peephole. Nobody there. She opened the door a crack and looked around, nobody was there. But when she looked down there were about forty bags of groceries in front of her door.

She shot a text to the group.

Holy Mjolnir. That is a lot of groceries.

She added a picture of the mountain of brown paper bags in front of her door.

Tony: You’re welcome, kiddo.

Darcy smiled. Tony could be very thoughtful sometimes. As she started hauling it all inside she took a look at what ‘the basics’ meant. It included oat milk, various canned goods and frozen vegetables, toilet paper and feminine hygiene products (her favorite brand of tampons… was he a mind reader?). He’d even sent her over a tin of brownies.

So, Darcy made it a hobby to be a homebody. As long as she could pass the time, she would be okay. One day turned into two, two into three, then it had been a week, two weeks, three weeks since the quarantine started. It took Darcy three weeks to realize a few things. She’d barely changed out of her pajamas in over a week. She hadn’t showered in nine days. She hadn’t ingested anything but coffee and Ritz crackers for six days. She hadn’t answered Jane’s video calls in three days. She’d been ignoring the group text for two, as it was starting to give her heart palpitations. She hadn’t even moved from the couch to go to her bed last night and woke up with a sore back.

She didn’t notice any of this, of course, until she got another video call. Thinking it was Jane, she just swiped it, but instead of swiping to end it, she accidentally swiped to answer it.

“Fuck!” She shouted as her phone slipped from her hand and onto the rug.

“You know a ‘hello’ would have worked, too,” so that was definitely not Jane’s voice.

“Tony?” she asked as she picked up the phone and looked at the man’s face. She wished she hadn’t though, as he immediately raised an eyebrow at her.

“Have you looked in a mirror like… At all in the past several days? That crust looks several days old, mamacita,” Darcy looked down at her sweaty t-shirt and mens boxer shorts self-consciously. “I mean your face, darling. Have you washed it recently?” His tone softened and that’s when Darcy realized something was wrong. Tony wasn’t soft with her. Sarcastic, sassy, nosy, that’s how she’d describe their relationship. But it was never this sincere.

“Hold on,” her voice was scratchy with disuse and she left her phone face up on the coffee table as she hurried over to her bathroom sink.

Shit. She looked like a wreck. Her hair was a greasy mess piled on top of her head. She couldn’t remember the last time she washed her face. It was a miracle she wasn’t developing acne. After she thoroughly scrubbed the grime off her face, she went to change into other pajamas, but she was thinning out. It was weird. She couldn’t find anything that fit right on her body so she just threw on a pair of blue gingham boxers and one of Tony’s stolen band t-shirts.

“That’s a little better,” Tony spoke when she came back to her phone. “Though I would suggest getting in the shower sometime soon.” She rolled her eyes at that. Maybe.

“Why did you video call me?” She pondered as she settled back down into her couch, feeling a little cleaner.

“You haven’t answered my texts in days. I’m allowed to worry about my friends, Darcy Lewis,” he raised both eyebrows at her and she winced. “I know this quarantine has been hard on everyone, but it’s also okay to not be okay. You’re used to being around people 24/7. You even said yourself that you never eat alone.”

“I’m fine,” she shrugged. “Just used to socializing and doing work. I’m not used to sitting still.”

“Are you sure that’s all? Jane said you haven’t been answering her either.”

“Jane snitched?” She gasped and narrowed her eyes. “Who else?”

Suddenly the man looked very innocent.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he spoke calmly with a lilt to his voice.

“Who else told you they’re worried about me?” Darcy wanted to cross her arms but she was stuck holding her phone.

“Jane and Thor, Clint, Natasha, Bruce, Steve-”

“How the fuck? What would they know? I don’t socialize with them outside of the tower so how the fuck would they know something was going on?” She spat, feeling a little defensive and teamed up on.

“You haven’t answered Jane’s calls, so she and Thor are concerned. Clint hasn’t seen you on X-Box live since the first week of quarantine, so he asked about you. Natasha seems to just know things, so she asked me to check in on you. Bruce knows what it’s like to have to be alone all of the time and was wondering how his favorite extrovert was doing. And Steve-”

“Go on, I’d like to hear this,” Darcy muttered. She’d had the biggest crush on Steve for the longest time, but they didn’t talk much since he didn’t work in the labs. They only socialized at family dinners and movie nights.

“He hasn’t heard you blast music in like six days,” Tony said with a quirked eyebrow. Darcy sputtered.

“What does that even mean?” She asked, throwing her free hand up.

“He lives next to you?” Tony said it like a question.

“I thought he lived at the tower,” Darcy frowned, eyeing up the wall she shared with the neighbor she’d never met.

“You- you didn’t know you lived next to Steve?” Tony asked exasperatedly. He shook his head and Darcy felt her cheeks heating. She wasn’t the most observant at times, and they’d been in quarantine for three weeks. It’s not like she was going outside. Plus, before that she was barely ever here. “This is a new level of unobservant. For someone who works in science, this is shocking.”

“It’s not that shocking,” she sputtered, scratching the back of her head. “I was barely ever here before all of this.”

“Fair, but still. For someone who has a Steve-radar, you probably could have figured it out. I mean,” he sighed. “You have the same commute. You work in the same building. When you leave movie night you go to the same place.”

“Yeah but usually I go to ang with Jane first,” Darcy felt like she had to defend herself. “I gotta go, I need to take a shower,” and with that, she cut him off and hung up with a huff. Who did he think he was, her father? Jeez.

As she stripped out of her fresh pajamas (probably not so fresh anymore since she’d been sweating nervously under Tony’s interrogative tone), she noticed even more how thin her fingers were looking, how cold she was. That was probably a bad thing.

However, the thoughts flew from her mind as she stepped into the hot spray of water and just leaned into it. It was nearly a religious experience. Or, it would have been, if she didn’t know that gods were just aliens. She took way too long in there, shampooing twice and just letting the hot water pour over her pale skin. She hadn’t been able to go outside and tan at all this summer with Jane being near a breakthrough and now with the quarantine.

All she’d done was knit and watch TV and cook. She finished Thor’s sweater and decided to knit one for all of the resident Avengers. Thor’s was maroon with little gold Mjolnirs all over it. Bruce’s was cream with little chemical structures all over it (she didn’t think he would wear a shirt with the Hulk all over it). Tony’s was black with a red and gold iron man helmet on the front and “I am Iron Man” on the back. Natasha’s was red with little knives and guns all over it. Clint’s (obviously) was purple with bows and arrows all over it, and “Legolas” on the back (Legolas was his favorite archer, how could Katniss or Merida even compare to an immortal elven archer?).

She was working on Steve’s now. He wasn’t all “apple pie America” in his free time, but she still wanted it to be cute and on theme. It was navy blue with a very complex eagle and waving american flag on it. Darcy was struggling, but she would be finished with it soon. She’d been knitting her whole life, her grandmother had taught her when she lived with her for a while.

She’d send them all out once they were done.

When Darcy finally exited the shower, fresh and smelling like roses and strawberries, she noticed she had another missed call from Jane and a few texts in the group chat. Her heart rate started ratcheting up. She could smell her deodorant in the air as she started sweating slightly. She licked her dry lips. Since when did she get anxious about group chats?

She took a look and smiled softly at her friends’ names.

Nat: I’ve come down with something. I blame Clint.

HawkDaddy: I was sick THREE WEEKS AGO. Why do you blame me?

Nat: You have a guilty face.

HawkDaddy: [download image]

Darcy quickly clicked on the attachment and giggled at Clint’s pouting face. She didn’t think before responding.

You know better than all of us that pouting is not going to sway Natasha’s opinion.

There was suddenly an influx of messages, and then Darcy remembered that she hadn’t responded in several days.

Nat: She’s right, you know.

That was the most normal response. Darcy had a feeling Natasha was the most emotionally intelligent one at the moment and didn’t want to make Darcy feel bad about falling into a depression hole.

HawkDaddy: Marceline the Vampire Queen has returned to us!

Tin Man: I think if anything, Short Stack is Princess Bubblegum.

Here’s Brucey: Darcy is Finn. She’s out here saving all of us all the time. Welcome back :)

Darcy smiled at that one. She’d convinced Clint and the scientists to watch Adventure Time.

America’s Ass: I am so confused.

America’s Ass: [download image]

Darcy laughed as she clicked on Steve’s gif. It was Lemongrab screaming ‘unacceptable.’ She didn’t know which was funnier: Steve not knowing what was going on and actually picking a gif from Adventure time, OR Steve having watched Adventure Time on his own and trolling them.

Alien of Thunder: My lightning sister has returned to the glorious group chat!

Alien of Thunder: This is cause for celebration!

Darcy sighed and smiled at her friends’ antics. Her anxiety had leveled out and she was feeling better than she had in days. First, she got to see Tony’s lovely face. Now she got to text with her friends.

However, it was time to finish Steve’s sweater.

“Friday,” she called out to the speaker in her living room. “Play ‘The Final Countdown,’” Darcy grinned a shark-like grin as she sat in her recliner and got her needles out. She could do this.

It was two more days before she called Tony again.

“What’s up stranger?” He asked when Darcy’s face popped up on the screen.

“I need to have something delivered to each of you. Can you help?” She looked over at the pile of sweaters wrapped in brown paper.

“Yeah, sure. Bruce did some tests on Steve and he seems to be immune due to his super DNA. He can pick it up and deliver it,” Tony was fiddling with a machine and Darcy nodded.

“I’ll text him then, thanks Tony!” And with that she hung up. Though she quickly shot a text to Steve.

I have a mission, should you choose to accept it.

While she waited, she decided to deep clean her room. Nothing would help her get out of her quarantine depression like summer cleaning! Once the entire apartment was vacuumed, mopped, dusted, and Lysol’d, she checked her phone again. Steve just replied.

Hit me with it.

She chuckled and sent back a picture of the stack of presents and the caption: I made something for each of you guys and I need help delivering it.

A moment later she sent another text: Tony said you were immune to the virus so I was wondering if you would help.

It only took a few minutes for Steve to reply.

Sure thing, Darcy :)

She smiled, he was genuinely one of the kindest people she’d met. He was just her type, too: tall, strong, he could swear like a sailor (not that he would let Tony know). While she was pondering her crush on the American icon, a knock sounded on her door, startling her out of her daydream and making her heart rate soar.

Hurrying over to the peephole, she let out a sigh of relief. It was Steve.

When she opened the door he looked down and smiled. When Darcy looked down, she noticed her outfit: a pair of black leggings (thankfully she had decided on pants that morning), and a “HULK SMASH” t-shirt with green and purple tie dye. Well, no use being bashful, she smiled gratefully at the man and let him in.

“I guess since you’re immune you’re allowed to come in,” she quipped and Steve chuckled.

“Thanks,” he rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “What did you make?”

“It’s a surprise,” Darcy winked and Steve felt a blush creep up his neck. “I can’t tell you because I made you one, too. You can’t open yours until everyone else has theirs, too. Okay? And no peeking at theirs. And don’t look in the group chat until you open it. Got it?”

“That’s a lot of rules, Darce,” he was smiling, standing in her newly cleaned apartment and in her personal space like it was totally normal and she hadn’t been isolated for nearly a month.

“I know, but it’s an important mission,” she loaded his arms up with little brown packages and sighed when he went to leave. He turned back to her with a curious look on his face. “It’s nice being able to see somebody in person,” she shrugged and he nodded sagely.

“Well, after I go see everyone I should self-isolate for a few days to make sure I’m not carrying any germs, but maybe after we can get together and watch a movie?” He cocked his head and smiled that winning smile at her.

“That would be lovely,” Darcy couldn’t help but return his smile, and hurried to escort him out. “No peeking!” She called as he laughed his way to the stairwell. He was such a good guy.

Darcy waited anxiously as Steve made his way to the tower and the other Avengers’ abodes. It was taking a little while though… Maybe he had walked? Darcy was nervously scrolling through her Instagram feed when the first message popped up.

It was a picture of Clint’s sweater.

HawkDaddy: Oh Em Gee, Darcy. It’s PERFECT.

Darcy felt warmth blooming in her chest at the sentiment. She loved giving to people. She thrived on happiness.

She kept quiet as the pictures started coming in. Tony was next, and then Bruce (probably working in the labs together with their N95 masks on).

Tin man: Short Stack, you’ve outdone yourself.

Attached was a photo of the sweater (front and back) compared to his actual face plate. It was pretty good, if she did say so herself.

Here’s Brucey: This is perfect, Darcy.

Bruce had actually included a selfie of himself giving a thumbs up. It made a giggle bubble up out of her chest. Nat was next, including a picture of her sweater next to her favorite knife and a handgun with the message: They are very realistic, I’m impressed.

That was a good compliment, and it went straight to Darcy’s head.

Thor was next, and he sent a picture of Jane absolutely drowning in the large sweater, and then a close up of a tiny knitted Mjolnir.

Alien of Thunder: A most excellent representation of my hammer, lightning sister. I shall wear it with pride.

Last, she waited for Steve to get home and open his.

When it finally came in, Darcy giggled at the image of Steve wearing a knitted sweater with an eagle and a billowing flag, hands on his hips. It was a sight to be seen.

America’s Ass: I’ve never worn a more appropriate sweater.

Darcy finally wrote in the group chat: Quarantine phase I: Darcy gets bored and knits everyone a sweater.

She was met with ‘LOL’s and laughing face emojis. Life was good for today, nothing dark on the horizon, she’d made her friends happy, and she had an upcoming movie night with Steve.

Darcy settled in on her couch and got ready for a night of Adventure Time.

Darcy spent two days in her post-sweater-delivery happy mood. Two excellent days where she showered, ate three meals, did a workout, messaged all of her friends. But reality set in. She didn’t know when she’d see them again. She didn’t know when she could hug Jane or go back to work. She hadn’t talked to Tony or Pepper but she was still getting her biweekly paychecks. She felt guilty about that. She felt guilty that she wasn’t brainy enough to help fix the virus or strong enough to have fought Dr. Doom’s minions.

So she was laying on her side on the couch listening to sad music on day three after the delivery. She hadn’t showered or eaten yet and it was four in the afternoon. Her phone buzzed and she ignored it, content to wallow in her Star Trek fleece jumpsuit. Her phone may have buzzed a few more times, but Darcy didn’t pay attention. She was busy having some time to herself.

She did just that for another three days, and took notice again of her slimming figure.

“Who knew depression holes and not being hungry would be the thing that finally helped me lose weight?” She asked the universe.

Darcy had gotten another shipment of food and supplies, but she didn’t Lysol down her door or clean each item before using them this time.

And she would pay for it.

She woke up on the sixth day after the sweater delivery feeling oh so tired. Figuring it was due to the lack of sustenance and exercise, Darcy decided to make herself some toast. She barely made it out of her room before the dizziness hit her.

Darcy sent a text to the group.

What are the symptoms? Help a girl out.

She started getting responses immediately.

HawkDaddy: Fever, body aches, fatigue

Nat: Dizziness, lessened appetite

Tin Man: Runny nose, sinus congestion, vomiting

Darcy gulped from her position on the floor (she sat down in the doorway when she started getting dizzy).

How many do I have to have before I have to go see a doctor?

She groaned as she sent the message and pulled herself up, trudging into her kitchen. The thought of ingesting anything nauseated her, so she made her way back to the couch, where she promptly fell asleep.

She woke up at noon choking on her own snot.

“Fuck,” she got the word out before she stumbled into the kitchen to blow her nose. After she’d friction burned her nose by using napkins as tissues, she slowly walked back to the couch (thanks dizziness) to check her phone. Three missed video calls from Tony, one from Jane, and a lot of texts.

America’s Ass: Are you alright, Darcy?

That was not in the group, it was a separate message, so Darcy answered that with a message before looking at the group.

I woke up super tired, super dizzy. Was awake for five minutes before I passed out on the couch. Woke up a disgusting mess and had to blow my nose with napkins because I don’t own tissues. So no, probably not.

Then, she checked the group chat. It was basically a conspiracy theory contest to guess what had happened to Darcy over the past few hours. Had she passed out from sickness? Gotten annoyed and started ignoring them? Fell down the stairs? Gotten kidnapped?

She shook her head and looked down at Steve’s next text.

I’ll make you some soup. Drink lots of water and get lots of rest.

She smiled at the sentiment. Steve was really sweet. She did what he said and grabbed a cup of water before retreating to the couch and scrolling through her Facebook. She kept getting group texts, though, so she put her phone away and threw on some mindless TV.

Darcy woke up to a knock on her door. It startled her, but she figured it was probably Steve. Nobody else would risk coming into contact with another human being. Darcy shuffled over to the door in her fleece pajama pants and birthday hedgehog t-shirt (a classic pajama day outfit) and looked through the peephole. She was right, Steve was awaiting her.

“Hey Darce,” he smiled down at her when she opened the door. “How are you feeling?”

“Like garbage,” she muttered. “Please, come in,” he stepped inside with a Tupperware full of noodle soup. “Oh my god, you really made me soup?” She looked up at him with wide eyes and he smiled bashfully.

“Friends don’t let friends get sick and not have soup,” he laughed and Darcy turned, misty eyed, towards the kitchen. People didn’t often do nice things for her, that was her job.

“You’re a lifesaver, Steven,” she spoke once she’d gotten control of her emotions and ushered him towards the kitchen table. “Come, sit with me,” she groaned as she lowered herself into the chair. The body aches were coming in waves.

“How are you holding up?” He asked once the two were sitting and Darcy had a full bowl of steaming soup in front of her.

“Well I think I’ve definitely got the virus. Either that or I’ve got a serious case of the flu. But I got my flu shot this year so…” She trailed off and shrugged. Steve frowned and reached over to press the back of his hand against her forehead. She tried not to act startled at the contact. It had been… Some amount of weeks since she’d touched another person.

“You do feel warm, do you have a thermometer?” She shook her head at his inquiry and the frown deepened. She didn’t like making Steve frown.

“Is it even worth going to the doctor?” She sighed and slouched into her chair. “It’s not like they can do anything but tell me to ride it out.”

“They could always prescribe you something for the symptoms,” he shrugged, looking thoughtful. “Something for the dizziness and aches.”

“Maybe, I’ll consider it,” she took a careful spoonful of soup and frowned. “I can’t taste it. Why can’t I taste it?” She took another spoonful and looked up at Steve with wide eyes. “Is that a thing?”

“I don’t know, I haven’t been keeping up with the news since it doesn’t really affect me,” he trailed off with a sheepish look on his face. “I’ll ask Tony.” He whipped out his smartphone and shot a text to Tony, fingers flying over the keyboard.

“I’m so sad I can’t taste your soup,” she was full of woe. “This is a travesty,” she whined and set the spoon back down. “I wasn’t even hungry and now I can’t taste anything?” She looked up at Steve with a pout.

“You should still eat, Darcy. I know it’s not super pleasant, but you need fuel,” he offered her a sympathetic smile, and gestured for her to take another bite, which she did (albeit slowly and with less excitement). “Tony said loss of smell and taste is a common symptom,” Darcy stood abruptly, ignoring the dizziness to find her lighter and light the ocean scented candle that had been sitting on her counter for a year. She lit it without preamble and then leaned in to give it a good sniff.

“Awe, come on,” she bemoaned, looking at Steve with that rumpled kitten look that made him want to wrap her up in a blanket and cuddle her.

“No scent either, huh?” He asked and she nodded, blowing out the candle before returning to her soup. “You’ll get through this. I’d be happy to drive you to the doctor if you’re not feeling well enough to drive,” Steve offered and Darcy was struck once again by how kind this man was.

“You’re too nice, Steve. Someone’s going to snatch you up one day,” she winked conspiratorially at him. He flushed, and she smiled inwardly. “Though, I don’t have a physician. I just go to medical at the tower.”

Steve hummed in understanding. It made sense for her, she lived, ate, and worked in the tower. No need to find a physician elsewhere when she could get treated at the state of the art facilities right nearby.

“To the tower then?” He asked as Darcy took the last few bites of her soup.

“To the tower,” she confirmed.

“Would you like to go now?”

She thought for a moment.

“Let me change and grab a mask from Tony’s most recent grocery drop. And then I’ll be ready,” she wanted to rush, but moving too fast had her head spinning. So, she shuffled over to her room, one hand on the wall at all times to keep her precarious balance.

Once she was in a pair of comfy leggings and a warm sweater (this one was violet), she threw a beanie over her slightly dirty hair and slapped a mask on her face.

“I’m ready,” her voice was muffled and Steve raised his eyebrows.

“It’s summer, and you have a fever,” he was nearly chiding her and she pouted. Unfortunately, the look went unnoticed past her mask.

“I’m chilly,” she finally said and he got that worried look again.

“Come on,” he held his arm out for her to take and she latched on gratefully. The dizziness was getting to her. “I texted Tony and asked him to have someone ready at medical for us,” he spoke softly as they headed for the elevator. It was a short ride down, and not too long by the time they made it to the tower.

“Short Stack, you look severely overdressed,” Tony was also wearing a mask, maybe two by the looks of it. He eyed their linked arms and quirked an eyebrow. “What’s that about?” He wasn’t one to mince words.

“Tony, now is not the time,” Darcy grunted through her mask. “I am freezing, I am dizzy, I sneezed into this mask more than once. I need Steve to help keep me from falling over. Are we good here?” She narrowed her eyes, attempting to get her frustration across without the lower half of her face. It worked.

“Right as rain, follow me,” Darcy could see his fingers flying over his fancy phone, but couldn’t tell who he was messaging. Her phone wasn’t vibrating, so it was unlikely to be the group chat.

When they made it to medical, Steve helped Darcy into a chair and then stood there for a moment, looking out of place.

“You’re welcome to stay and sit, Steve. You could also go explore the tower or something but I am unlikely to stand up without assistance again,” she spoke quietly, and he gave her a little smile before sitting down next to her.

“Not much for me to do in the tower, what with everybody being home from work,” he shrugged. “I have been going a little stir crazy.”

“You and I both. I miss Jane and her crazy science benders. I miss all of the scientists, actually,” Darcy frowned, picking at her fingernails (a habit she’d picked up recently). “I miss family dinner nights,” she muttered and Steve nodded in agreement.

“You do make excellent dinners, and it’s nice having some off-time with the others,” he added and she smiled with her eyes.

“Thanks, Steve-o.”

It looked like he wanted to say something else (she could tell because he didn’t need to wear a mask), but doctor McCoy walked in.

“You look tired, doc,” Darcy commented. There were red lines around where his mask sat on his face, and his usually fiery eyes were dulled.

“It’s been a long few weeks, Lewis,” he countered and she nodded. “Captain Rogers,” he nodded to Darcy’s escort and the super soldier nodded back.

“Bones has been dealing with me since I moved to the tower. For all sorts of things,” Darcy explained their familiarity.

“You come here a lot?” Steve asked with a concerned laugh.

“I get into a lot of lab accidents. One time Thor hugged me too hard and bruised my ribs. Clint once fell out of the vents and onto me and gave me a head injury. For someone as robust looking as I am, I am quite fragile,” she shrugged at Steve’s bewildered look.

“Well you are only human,” Doctor McCoy noted before getting into professional mode and taking her vitals.

“Why are you called Bones?” Steve asked when he was taking Darcy’s temperature.

“It’s a nickname his college roommate gave him, you tell him doc,” Darcy smirked and the good doctor rolled his eyes.

“My wife got everything in the divorce. I got nothin left but my bones,” he sighed dramatically before announcing that she had a fever. “What other symptoms are you having?” As they got into the nitty gritty, Steve reclined in his chair and watched with interest. It seemed like Darcy had friends everywhere. In medical, in the labs, with the security team and the Avengers. Hell, he’d even seen her bring coffee down to accounting before.

“I’m gonna be straight with you, Lewis,” the doctor sighed, looking down at his notes. “There’s not much I can do for this virus but treat the symptoms and hope you ride this out. You can take this for the fever, and this for the runny nose and sneezing,” he looked up at her as he passed the post it note over. “Not much I can do for your taste, smell, and dizziness, but I’d suggest keeping in contact with your resident super soldier in case something happens,” he eyed Steve up at that, and the other man nodded his agreement. “Drink lots of water, invest in some gatorade. Don’t drink it straight, mix it half and half with water. It tastes gross but it’s better for you. Get some rest, and I suggest finding a show to binge watch until you’re feeling better.”

“Any recommendations for that, Doc?”

“I highly recommend Star Trek,” he murmured with a smile.

“And any recommendations on how to stop being so fucking depressed about this quarantine situation?” She was half joking, and the doctor chuckled.

“Damn it Lewis,” he shook his head. “I’m a doctor, not a therapist,” it actually made her laugh, and Steve was disappointed by how muffled it sounded from behind her mask.

“I’ll have to find one of those, then,” she laughed as she went to get up, holding onto the back of the chair. “Thanks for these, doc,” she waved the paper in front of her and latched onto Steve when he offered his arm again.

“Take care of yourself,” he called as the two left the room.

“He seems like a swell guy,” Steve commented and Darcy hummed.

“He is. He deserves better than what he got, but it is what it is,” she shrugged. “You ready to head home, soldier?” She looked up at him and he got the feeling she was smiling.

“Sure am,” he replied, and when they got back Darcy shooed Steve off for a little while so she could take a bath and clean up.

“Want to come over for a movie later?”

“As long as it’s not The Hunger Games again,” Steve laughed and Darcy smirked, now that her mask was off.

“What, Clint’s favorite is getting to you?”

“I’m just curious how he gets to pick every time,” Steve emphasized as he made his way to the door.

Darcy only shrugged.

“We pick based on arbitrary things. Who ate the most pop tarts this week. Who wore the least amount of yellow. Who won the prank war. Etcetera,” she shrugged.

Steve only rolled his eyes before he waved and left.

Darcy sagged. Walking around and being peppy had exhausted her. Since when did she need to recharge after socializing. When this was all over, she’d need to reacclimate to her extroverted life.

They watched Star Trek that night (the one with Chris Pine) and Darcy stayed sick for four more days. She was avidly enjoying the group chat and her Netflix subscription since she couldn’t focus enough to knit and couldn’t do much else. Steve came by often to hang out or share meals with her. Sometimes they just sat on the couch and talked. It was nice getting to know him better. She’d always had a surface relationship with him. Not in a bad way, but they were both always busy.

When she was feeling better, she knitted him a pair of comfy socks and baked him some molasses cookies in thanks. He said it wasn’t a problem, he liked spending time with her. She blushed profusely but insisted he take them.

Darcy sometimes felt so unbearably lonely and sad, feeling stuck in her own home was hard. But she checked herself and reminded herself that she was very lucky. Not everyone got to hang out with a super soldier on the daily. Someone who couldn’t get sick. It was hard to remind herself that she had it better than a lot of people. But then again, a lot of people didn’t live alone and had their families to be around. It was weird. She wasn’t sure if she should be grateful or guilty.

She talked about her conflicting feelings with Steve a week after she got better.

“I just don’t know whether I should be grateful that I have you, and that I’m not alone, or whether I should feel guilty that I still feel stuck here and lonely when I do have you. Or on the third hand, whether I should be feeling some sort of way that I haven’t picked up a new skill or started working out in the past…” She trailed off and started counting her fingers. “Nearly seven weeks?”

Steve nodded.

“Nearly seven weeks,” he said with a sigh. They were both hoping the brains of the operation would have figured out a cure or a vaccine by now. She knew they were close, but it was so hard to figure out something when you had to be so careful of working around others. “But you shouldn’t feel bad, Darcy. I mean, I feel guilty that I am not being affected the way everyone else is, but I’m still alone a lot. And I am grateful to be around you so much. I have to quarantine for everyone else’s sake in case I can carry the virus,” he shrugged. “It’s a tough situation and it’s been hard on all of us. But that doesn’t make your feelings any less valid.”

“You’re very emotionally intelligent for someone who is like… mentally around thirty,” Darcy smiled softly and Steve huffed a laugh.

“Thanks, I think. I just spent a lot of my young adult life being left out of things and having to deal with them on my own, with only Bucky,” he sighed. “You have to learn to deal with the emotional and mental side of things when physically you’re like… Five foot two and a hundred pounds soaking wet.”

Darcy let out a little laugh.

“Not relatable, dude. I mean yeah, I’m five foot three. So pretty close. But I haven’t been under a hundred pounds since middle school,” she gestured vaguely at her chest. “When I got the girls, it added like five pounds minimum,” she shook her head good naturedly and Steve chuckled.

“I couldn’t even imagine being a woman in this day and age,” he sighed.

“I couldn’t imagine being a tiny ball of rage and righteousness in the thirties and forties,” Darcy countered and they shared a laugh.

Darcy had been counting. It was July when it all started. It would be September 20th on the morrow. But Tony had texted in the group. Some students at Oxford had come up with a vaccine and were working on it with a group of American doctors and scientists.

Darcy got vaccinated in November and was back at the tower (without a mask) by December.

“Jane!” Darcy squealed when she saw her tiny boss tinkering with a machine.

“Darcy!” Unlike previous encounters where Jane would ignore her for a machine, the scientist ran over to Darcy and they embraced each other.

“Can I get in on this group hug?” Clint climbed with supreme agility from the overhead air vent.

“Naturally, you jack-booted thug,” Jane said with misty eyes and a wavering voice. The two women were suddenly enclosed in a big circle of biceps.

“I have notified Sir of the group hug. The others will be here shortly,” JARVIS spoke and Darcy giggled, happy to see all of her friends again. Soon Tony, Nat, Bruce, and Thor were all joining in. Steve walked in on it and Darcy had an idea.

“Have y’all ever heard of a cinnamon roll hug?” She broke away from the group to grab Steve’s hand and pull him towards the commotion.

“Never.”

“Nope.”

“Sounds interesting.”

She nodded at the responses. She could make it work.

“We did it in college for team bonding. Everyone hold hands and stand in a straight line,” they did as instructed, and Darcy smirked. Thor would love this.

“Thor, start rolling in. Like a cinnamon roll,” Darcy instructed and Thor rolled into Jane, hands still holding. “Now Jane, follow. And everyone roll into it,” soon they were a big circle of hands and torsos and giggles. “Now let go of your hands,” she waited a moment before giving the final instruction. “Now, hug!” They were a mess of giggles by the end of it, but with Thor at the center smiling like a dork and everyone else shaking their heads and smiling, it was worth it.

“I don’t know how you come up with this stuff,” Steve commented once it was just he and Darcy. Jane had run off to get a piece of equipment.

“I learned a lot in college, just not about anything important,” she laughed and Steve smiled down at her warmly.

“Darcy?” He asked, leaning against the doorway.

“Mmhm?” She hummed, making her way towards him.

“Now that we’re out of isolation…” He trailed off as she came to stand closer than arm’s length away from him. “Would you want to get dinner with me?” He gave her that shy half-smile and she couldn’t help but beam up at him.

“I would love nothing more.”

[enamoured-x]

Hey lovely! 🥰 could I pretty please request a Sonny Carisi x reader where Sonny is dating a firefighter 👏🏼 maybe an angsty one where she ends up in a hospital? 😅 thanks in advance ❤️

I loved this ask! I hope you like it! (gif not mine)

Your big heart was what drew Sonny to you initially. You were so kind to everyone you met, always eager to help a friend in need, always so selfless. You had met through mutual friends and hit it off immediately. He liked that you were so grounded and you knew exactly what you wanted. He was surprised when you told him that you were a firefighter. He had so much respect for what you went through everyday and he admired your bravery. He just loved everything about you. The first few months of your relationship were a little rocky, you cared for one another deeply so quick and Sonny was trying to navigate how to not drive himself mad with stress each day you headed out for work. He tried to reason that it was no different than when he was a cop but he didn’t know it felt like this. Eventually, you both had a long talk and you helped Sonny through his fears of you getting hurt on the job. You couldn’t help but be a little grateful that he was an ADA now, not a cop anymore. You couldn’t imagine the stress you’d have as well. So you understood where he was coming from. 

It was a regular Tuesday afternoon when Sonny was at the office preparing for trial. The tv was on for background noise and he was barely paying attention. After an hour of looking over papers, his eyes were burning so he leaned back and took a break. He focused on the tv and for a second he couldn’t register what he was seeing. And then he realized what was happening. The news was reporting some explosion. It had seemed that a factory had a gas leak and was now up in flames. For a second he didn’t think about anything else but the people that must have been inside or the people who were injured. He frowned. And then it hit him. There were multiple fire trucks at the scene and his heart dropped into his stomach. He turned up the volume quickly, trying to hear what was happening. But the anchor only had a few details and Sonny became panicked. He tried to remember what you told him to do when he’d get anxious. He slowed his breathing and pictured you coming home to him in a few hours. He’d make you your favorite dish and he’d enjoy dinner with you while talking about your day. You’d both cuddle up on the couch together and watch a movie. He’d then get in bed with you and you’d fall asleep in his arms. He huffed out a breath as he felt calmer now. The tv still hadn’t said anything so he just turned it off. It would only get him worked up again. He went back to his papers and eventually fell back into rhythm. 

Some time had passed before he showed up at the precinct to let the squad know what was happening with the case. It always felt nice to be around them again. They only talked about the case briefly before they were all catching up. Before Sonny knew it, he had been there for an hour. He was about to excuse himself when his phone started ringing. He pulled it out of his suit pocket but didn’t recognize the number. He answered it. He swore he felt the ground fall out from beneath him when the lady on the other line said she was calling from the hospital. When she said your name, he had to hold onto something. And when she let him know you were about to go into surgery, tears welled into his eyes. All he could mutter out was a quick I’m on my way before hanging up and running out of the precinct. He sped like crazy, well as much as he could in traffic. He honestly thought at one point it would have been faster for him to run but after twenty minutes he was finally pulling up to the hospital. 

He then ran again, trying to get to you fast as he could regardless if you were in surgery or not. The front desk lady told him what unit to go to and when he got there they led him to a waiting room. He was greeted by the sight of your whole company waiting around. They were quick to pull him in for a hug, they were family to him because they were family to you. Just as the squad was your family now too. Your captain, Ted, explained that you were helping retrieve people who were still trapped in the building. That’s when a second mini explosion went off and you got hit in the stomach with shrapnel. When Ted was done talking, Sonny excused himself to the bathroom. When he got in, he flung a stall open, and vomited. Tears sprang to his eyes again. He was trying to calm himself down but your technique would not help him right now. This wasn’t a matter of what ifs, this was real, you were hurt. 

When he felt like he finally had enough, he walked to the sink and splashed his face with cold water and rinsed his mouth out. When he returned to the waiting room, he was handed a water bottle by one of your colleagues. He thanked her and went to sit down. He hated this waiting game. He felt defeated. He felt helpless. He had to sit and wait while God knew how the surgery was going. You had just gone in almost forty minutes ago but he was growing impatient. His mind filled with what ifs. You guys had only gotten a year together. It wasn’t enough for him. He wanted more, he wanted a lot more. He wanted to take you on more fancy dates just to see you get all dressed up for him. He wanted to continue taking you to Staten Island to spend Sundays with his family. He wanted to continue to bring you lunch or coffee between his breaks, just to get to see you for a few moments. He wanted to hold you in his arms again and kiss you good morning and good night. And the thought of not being able to do any of those things anymore, well he didn’t think he’d be able to take it. 

It was two hours later when a doctor in scrubs finally came out and asked for your family. Your company stood back and let Sonny take the lead. Sonny quickly got up, wiping his hands on his pants. His heart was beating wildly in his chest, his hands started to shake. 

“We were able to remove the shrapnel from her abdomen. In doing so we–” He didn’t really understand what the doctor was saying anymore. He just needed to know if she was okay. 

“Is she okay?” Sonny interrupted him. The man didn’t seem to mind, probably used to it. 

“She is stable and resting now.” The doctor confirmed. Sonny felt the air whoosh back into his lungs. He choked out a cry.

“Can I see her?” He nodded and led him to the room. The doctor left when Sonny walked in. You had a tube through your nose, your head bandaged, probably for the concussion the doctor told him about. He didn’t realize that it was more than just the hit to the stomach. You had some cuts across your face, along your arms. He swallowed hard before pulling up a chair to your bedside and taking your hand in his. He lifted it up to his lips as tears finally escaped his eyes, sliding down his cheeks.

“Baby, you scared the hell out of me.” He said. You were resting, the doctor said you’d probably be out of it for a while because of the drugs. He didn’t care though. He wasn’t leaving your side and he was still going to talk to you. 

“I saw the explosion on tv and I freaked. But I did what you told me to do. I pictured you coming home to me and it calmed me down right away. And then I got the call and…” He shook as he thought about it. Yes, you were okay and right in front of him but the thought of losing you… The thoughts that plagued his mind during the tortuous two hours he had to wait… It was hard to shake that off. 

“I love you. I love you so much, doll. I’m so glad you’re okay.” He kept pressing kisses to your hand. Then he placed it against his cheek, just wanting to feel you. 

“God, you’re so brave. You amaze me, you really do. Everyday I wake up and I think of how incredibly lucky I am to have gotten you. How lucky I am to know you. How lucky I am to love you.” He laid his head down on the bed and stroked your hand with his thumb. He didn’t realize he dozed off a few moments later, mumbling how much he loved you. 

Your head was pounding when you started to come to. The light was harsh on your eyes as you finally opened them. You had to blink a few times to get used to it. You tried to sit up and immediately regretted the idea as a searing pain shot through your stomach. You remembered what happened, you were awake for all of it. The metal stabbing through you, your team getting you into an ambulance, the doctors rushing you to surgery. You sighed and went to place a hand on the wound when you realized you couldn’t move your hand. You looked down to your left to see that your hand and arm were being held by Sonny. His cheek was pressed against the cot, his soft breathing letting you know he was sleeping. Your heart soared at the sight of him. He was the only thing on your mind when you entered that burning building. He was always on your mind anytime you had to run head first into danger. He was what always kept you fighting to do your job and go home to him. You slowly withdrew your hand from his grasp and moved his hair off his forehead. His usual slicked back look from this morning was gone, instead it had seemed like he had run his hands through it a handful of times. You smoothed out his worry lines with your thumb and then trailed your hand down to cup his cheek. He stirred at the moment and then opened his eyes. Seeing those baby blues were enough to take away any pain, you thought. It took him a second to realize you were awake and when he did, he stood up and leaned over you, cupping your face in his hands. 

“Doll, you’re awake.” You gave him a soft smile.

“Are you sure? I must be dreaming because there’s an angel standing right in front of me.” You tried cracking a joke, wanting the worry in his eyes to go away. But your attempt failed as he let out a sob. He placed his head against yours and you quickly brought your hands up to cup his face. 

“Hey, Sonny, don’t cry. It’s okay. I’m okay.” Tears were welling in your eyes from seeing him like this. 

“I’m sorry. I just…” He couldn’t even talk. You sighed and brought him into you to let him rest his face in the crook of your neck. The movement made your head throb but you didn’t care. 

“Don’t apologize. I know.” You rubbed at his back. 

“I’m sorry, you shouldn’t be comforting me right now,” he pulled away. 

“How are you feeling?” He asked as he ran a hand down your face. 

“Sore, and my head hurts. I’m kind of thirsty too.” Before you could even finish your sentence though, Sonny was pressing the call button for a nurse. A few moments later, a nurse walked in.

“Good to see you awake.” She said to you and then Sonny reiterated your pains and that you needed water. She said she’d go get some and left you both. 

“How long have I been out?” You scooted up a bit, despite the pain. 

“A few hours, your team is waiting for you out in the waiting room.” He didn’t bother expressing that those few hours didn’t feel like hours at all. They felt like years. 

Your nurse walked back in with the doctor that was operating on you. You were given water and then he asked you a few questions. 

“Everything should heal pretty nicely. You’ll need to be on bed rest for a few weeks and we’ll prescribe you with some medication for the pain.” Your doctor explained. Your heart sunk at the idea of bed rest. 

“When will I be able to go back to work?” You asked. Sonny scoffed, you ignored him and waited for the doctor to answer. He spared a look in Sonny’s direction and then directed his attention to you again.

“With bed rest and some time after to start getting your strength back…” he trailed off, grimacing. 

“Maybe in two months, possibly three. And that’s as long as you stay rested and do your exercises when the time comes.” You chewed on your lip. You loved your job and for you to be out of commission for almost three months…it stung. 

“I’ll be sure it’s all done, doc.” Sonny told him. The doctor simply nodded and said you could be discharged in two days and then he left the room. 

“Three months…” You groaned. 

“Three months of me catering to your every need.” Sonny kissed your hand, trying to get you to lighten up. It kind of worked. 

“Really? Breakfast in bed?”

“Of course.”

“Foot rubs?”

“Yup.”

“Kisses whenever I want them?” 

“Oh, definitely.” He said and kissed you. You smiled through it. 

“I guess it doesn’t sound too bad…” You teased him. He laughed and brought your hand up to press a kiss to the back of it.

“I get you all to myself for three months, it doesn’t sound bad at all.” 

Sonny didn’t lie when he said he’d be at your beck and call. For the next few months he was at your side, doing everything you asked of him. He’d make breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Always making sure you were maintaining your health and strength. Always double checking with you to make sure you took your meds. He had taken time off work to help you through everything and you were beyond grateful for him. Of course there were times where you had explained to him that he didn’t need to hand feed you as well or times where he didn’t need to help you walk just to get to the bathroom. But you knew his heart was in the right place. He was taking good care of you because he loved you. And when the time came when you were finally allowed to go back into work, he was right there with you, sending you off with a kiss. And you promised him that you’d come home. And you always did. 

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Sam, Interrupted: Part One

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 2,102

Warnings: typical supernatural violence, language, angst, blood, you know the usual

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. Any and all comments on these are appreciated. I really want to hear what you guys think about this one!

Feedback is the glue that holds my writing together.

Tags at the bottom

The death of the two women in your life was still very fresh in your minds. They wanted you three to kill Lucifer with the Colt, and as much as you tried, it didn’t work. Jo died for nothing as did Ellen, but the event hasn’t left your mind since. Your mind wouldn’t let you forgive yourself for not doing something more even though Dean’s told you repeatedly that you did everything you could. Jo was dead the minute the hellhounds got to her no matter how much magic you used on her body.

Nonetheless, there were other people that needed to be saved. Other people that had no clue the apocalypse was near them. Other people that were more important than Lucifer since the archangel hasn’t shown up since that night. All you could do was focus on the case in front of you which just so happened to be in a psychiatric hospital where an ex-hunter summoned you.

In order to get into the hospital and do your job, you needed to go undercover.

In order to do that, you needed to tell the truth.

“You were referred to me by a Dr. Babar in Chicago,” Dr. Fuller stated, looking at the file in his hands.

“That’s right,” you nodded.

“Isn't there a children's book about an elephant named Babar?”

“I don't know. I don't have any elephant books. Look, Doctor, I-I-I think the doc was in over his head with this one,” Dean points to his brother. “'Cause my brother is,” he makes a motion with his fingers by the side of his head that usually meant “crazy”.

“Okay, fine, thank you. That's really not necessary,” he stuttered, grabbing his notepad and file. “Why don't you tell me how you're feeling, Alex?”

“I'm fine. I mean, okay, a little depressed, I guess,” Sam sighed.

“Okay, any idea why?” Dr. Fuller asked as he wrote in his notepad.

“Probably because I started the apocalypse.”

“The apocalypse?”

“Yeah, that's right.”

“And you think you started it?” Dr. Fuller asked, looking at you and Dean who just smiled innocently.

“Well, yeah, I mean I killed this demon, Lilith, and I accidentally freed Lucifer from hell. So now, he's topside, and we're trying to stop him.”

“Who is?”

“Me. And him. And her. And this one angel.”

“Oh, you mean, like an angel on your shoulder.”

“No, his name’s Castiel. He wears a trench coat.”

“See what I mean, Doc? The kid's been beating himself up about this for months. The apocalypse wasn't his fault.”

“It’s not?” Dr. Fuller asked, stunned.

“No. There was this other demon, Ruby. She got him addicted to demon blood, and near the end, he was practically chugging this stuff,” you chuckled, adding in your two cents.

“My brother's not evil. He was just... high... yeah? So, could you fix him up so we can get back to traveling around the country and hunting monsters?”

“I really have an itching to kill some demons and Lucifer. I mean, we did shoot him, but he lived and is now going to come after me because apparently, I’m connected to his aunt or something.”

“Lucifer’s… aunt?”

“Yeah. Her name is Amara.”

“Irma,” Dr. Fuller said when he picked up his phone and dialed an extension, “cancel my lunch.”

All three of you gave the doctor comforting and warm smiles which only concerned him more.

“Dr. Fuller thinks it would be best if we keep you three under observation or a couple of days,” a sickly happy nurse said as she led you down a hall.

She was speaking, but you didn’t listen to a word she was saying. There was something off about the dark-haired nurse. She wasn’t a demon or an angel… but she wasn’t human either.

“All of us? Me, too? And Y/N?” Dean asked.

“Yes, Sugar. The doctor thinks that would be best,” she smiled.

Sam and Dean got their own rooms, and when she was done with them, she walked into your room with a smile on her face. She went down to business and wrapped a blood pressure cuff around your arm, checked it, and then removed it.

“Alright, I'm just gonna give you a little check-up,” she smiled.

“Would you stop smiling all the time? You’re freaking me out here,” you mumbled.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you,” she playfully frowned before smiling again.

“What are you?” you muttered to yourself, not expecting her to hear it.

Though she did, and her smiled faltered just a bit before she reminded herself to keep it on her face always. Yeah, there was something definitely wrong with her.

“How long is this going to take?” you asked.

“Not that long. You just relax and let me do my job.” She was right, it didn’t take that long, and you were walking to the patient lounge with patient scrubs, shoes, and a blue robe.

It’s what Sam and Dean were wearing when you joined them.

“How was your Silkwood shower?” Dean asked you.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you said in a small voice. Shaking off the horrifying experience, you decided to get down to business about why you were really here in the first place. “I can't believe I let you two talk me into this.”

“Hey, it's the least we could do. Martin saved Dad's ass more times than we can count. He's a great hunter,” Sam defended the man who summoned you here.

“Was. Until Albuquerque,” Dean grumbled.

“Besides, I just figure it's best we keep busy. That's all.”

“Better than what?” Dean asked.

“You know what,” you sighed, still not over Ellen and Jo’s death at all.

“Okay. Look... um... last few weeks, you've kind of been worrying me,” Sam admitted.

“Oh, come on, Sam. Stop,” Dean rolled his eyes. “Look, just because we're in the loony bin doesn't give you the right to head-shrink me.”

“Dean—”

“Ellen and Jo dying—yeah, it was a fucking tragedy, okay? But I'm not gonna wallow in it.”

“Dean, you always do this. You can't just keep this shit in,” you sighed.

“Watch me,” he chuckled before spotting the ex-hunter by the corner. “Oh, there he is.”

Dean left you and Sam, and you watched him go with a sad look. Ellen and Jo meant something to him, you knew, and it sucked he never wanted to talk about anything. Taking a deep breath, you and Sam walked over to Martin who smiled at your presence.

“Sam, Dean, Y/N, wow,” he stood and shook Sam’s hand. “Wow, you boys got big. You too, Y/N. You look good.”

“Thanks. You do, too, Martin,” you smiled.

“Uh... well, thanks for coming,” he motioned for you to sit, which you three did. “In the old days, I could've taken care of this thing with both hands tied behind my back... but, well... now...”

“What do you think it is that we're hunting?”

“I don't know yet. A ghost, demon, monster... animal, vegetable, mineral,” he chuckled. “Hospital's had five deaths in the last four months. Doctors keep calling it suicides, but they're wrong.”

“So, you’ve seen this thing?” you asked. Martin shook his head which lead you to your neck question. “Has anyone seen this thing?”

“Well, a couple patients have, uh... had glimpses, but there's not a lot to go on.”

“Are they reliable?” Dean asked.

“Oh, sure, why wouldn't they be?” Martin wondered.

Taking a look around the room, you noticed a woman danced and hummed around the room, and you knew whatever she said wasn’t going to be reliable. Looking back at Martin, you raised an eyebrow at him.

“I know you three think I'm a bag of loose screws. Now, you wouldn't be wrong. But I wouldn't have called you unless there was something here. I can feel it in my gut.”

“We believe you. Have you checked any of the bodies? Found signs of an attack?” Sam asked.

“Well, uh, no... I don't go around dead b-b-b-bodies anymore,” he flinched. Dr. Fuller approached you four and smiled at everyone.

“Alex, Eddie, Maria,” he smiled at you and the brothers. It’s not like you could use your real names here. “Well, I'm glad to see you're making friends. Why don't you and Mr. Creaser join us for group? Please. Right this way.”

Getting up, you followed the Doctor, but he stopped you and Dean from joining Martin and Sam.

“Actually, I'm gonna be putting you two in the afternoon group.”

“What? Why?” you asked.

“Well, to be frank, uh, the relationship that you two have with your brother seems dangerously codependent. I think a little time apart will do you both good,” he smiled.

He walked away with Sam and Martin, but you two frowned as you watched them go.

“What do we do now?” Dean asked.

“I guess we just hang here a bit until they come back. We can’t do anything without them. Well, I mean we could, but it’ll be like us chasing our tails.”

“Then let’s play,” he smiled, moving a chair out for you at a table with a checkers board on it.

“Don’t mind if I do,” you grinned, taking a seat.

Dean sat opposite of you and set up the board, giving you the red ones and him the black. When everything was set up, he made the first move, and the game started. When the score was tied, you held up a hand and got up from your seat.

“Don’t cheat. I’m going to use the bathroom,” you chuckled before walking away.

As you turned the corner, you looked back to see Dean speaking to someone even though no one was there to begin with.

After a long afternoon, you and Dean followed several patients down the hall, Dean’s hands in his pockets and staring at the floor. He was kind of depressed, but you didn’t know why he was. He claimed a doctor came to him while you were away to talk about his father, but you were only gone for five minutes. Just as you two passed by a door, it opened and Sam walked out and joined you two.

“Dean, hey. You okay?”

“He’s having a tough time. Please tell us you found something.”

“Yeah. A guy, Ted, says he saw the creature. We should talk to him. You wanna meet here in an hour?”

“Yeah, sooner we take care of this thing, sooner we can get gone. This place gives me the creeps,” he shivered.

Turning around, you come face to face with a patient who just smiled. Before you could say anything, she grabs the back of your neck and kisses you just like that. Your eyes went wide as did the brothers, and she pulled away with a seductive smile.

“Hi.”

“Hi…?”

“I’m Wendy.”

“Uh-huh,” you nodded.

She slapped your ass as she passed by you to leave, and you watched her with a confused look.

“Dude—”

“Not a word, Winchester,” you glared at Dean who lost his smile.

He cleared his throat and pretended what he saw didn’t affect him in anyway.

After hours, when you knew the nurses would be on their rounds, you and Dean met his brother outside of his cell. Sam had the lock pick he managed to sneak into the place. He knew of the guy that saw the monster you were looking for, and you were going to need to talk to him if you wanted to get this case over and done with as soon as possible.

“Well, it's about time. Nurses are on their rounds. We got, like, fifteen, twenty minutes. So, where is this guy?” Dean asked.

“Room 306,” Sam informed, leading the trio to the room.

It didn’t take long since Sam’s was near his. When you approached the door, you heard Ted screaming in fear. The monster must be in there, and your hands turned blue to get the door opened faster than a lock pick would. The brothers moved out of the way, and right before your hands could touch the door, Ted’s feet slammed against the window so that you couldn’t see inside the place.

“Hurry up! Come on, hurry up!” Dean urged.

Shaking your head, you placed your hands flat on the door as you let your magic do its thing to get the door unlocked. As soon as the door clicked, you opened it only to see Ted hanging from a pipe in the ceiling with a tied bed sheet around his neck.

“Damn it!” you exclaimed.

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[wildefiction]

Hunger: Three

PAIRING: Jared x Reader

WORD COUNT: 1,506

CHAPTER(S): 3/?

CHAPTER WARNINGS: Job Loss

Relief and terror fought their way through your chest. When he'd left moments before, you'd assumed it would be the last time you'd see him. Sure, he seemed genuine in the time you'd spent together, and yeah, Adam had summoned you to his office, all but offering you a permanent position with the company - but still. Some part of you had decided that the entire thing had only existed in your mind. You'd actually half expected to wake up in your bed to the screeching of the alarm - chalking it up to simply a nice dream.

But he was there. Really there. The hand holding his phone starting to droop, the expression on his face conflicted. Did you want to exchange phone numbers? What could it hurt? These thoughts swirled around in your consciousness, and while it had seemed as if an eternity had passed, in reality it had been only seconds. 

“Oh, uh, su-sure Jared.” A hesitant smile lit up your eyes and you retreated further into the room, holding the door open in invitation. 

After a moment's hesitation, he followed you - choosing to lean his lanky frame against the door. Half in, half out. Like he wasn't fully sure if you were inviting him in or not. Hair fell over your eyes as you bent double, grabbing a thin black cord from the floor beside your bed. Following it up the side of the mattress to disappear under one haphazardly strewn pillow you found your phone; a small green charging light illuminating the darkness.

Spinning to face him once more, your phone held out in exchange for his, you dialed your number into his contacts list. 

After reclaiming your device, the two of you just kind of stood there - neither sure what to say. The silence became nearly palpable. Clearing his throat, Jared's brow furrowed for a moment before smiling down at you. 

“I'll uh..I'll text you. Kay?”

Nodding mutely, you couldn't quite understand what was happening here.

“Sure. Well, uhm, goodnight Jared.” Moving back towards the door, you watched as he turned, grabbing the solid wood barrier as he stepped back into the hallway.

“Night [Y/F/N]” 

*****

The following week was back to business as usual. And, as expected, the grey walls surrounding your cubicle matched too well with the grey weather outside. Glancing out the window across the room, rain pounded the glass, the trees bending against the onslaught of  the wind.

Usually, you loved this weather. You loved living here, but for some reason, something felt off tonight.

With a resigned sigh, you rolled the desk chair back into your workspace and pulled up your email. 

The refreshed inbox now held a single composition. It was from Adam.

Eyes widening, you glanced furtively around, on the lookout for anyone's prying eyes. Personal business on company time was greatly frowned upon.

Maneuvering the non-descript grey mouse to hover over the message, you took a deep breath and clicked. Closing your eyes for a few moments, you steeled yourself for rejection. He'd probably changed his mind. After all, he'd said it himself, not many people had been brought in by special request.

Lifting your eyes to the screen, you scanned the document - searching for the words of regret. Searching for your dismissal. 

It wasn't there.

It was, instead, a formal offer.

The contract detailed everything from your anticipated responsibilities to your travel schedule and their proposed salary. While the offer was generous - there was also the stipulation that you'd have to relocate. To California, where Creation held it's offices. 

Perusing the remainder of the email, you noted fine print at the very bottom:

“Applicant has three business days to respond to first offer. If no contact is made – company has full power to revoke the proposal at any point.”

Three days?! The thudding in your chest picked up speed. A sideways glance to the corner of the monitor gave you pause. It was Tuesday. They expected your response by Friday. Did that mean, if you were to accept the terms that you’d be out of this miserable place by then?

Being a creature of habit, you really weren’t sure you could decide that quickly. Only an hour ago, you’d been convinced the offer wasn’t going to come. Three days ago, you hadn’t even met Jared in person. Now you were faced with one of the biggest decisions of your life. On a very tight deadline. Sweat dotted your forehead even though your skin was cool to the touch. Folding your arms across the top of the formica desktop, you lowered your forehead to rest upon them.

In. Out. In….out.

“What are you doing Ms. [Y/L/N]?”

Startled out of your position, you spun around in the mesh chair, coming face to face with the sour-expression of Mr. Blaine – department supervisor. Flanking him, a stern-looking woman in a boxy polyester three-piece grimaced. To her right, Ted, the loveable bear of a security guard for your building stood quietly; hands clasped over each other. He wouldn’t even look at you.

“Wha..what’s going on?” Fear boiled in your gut. While you’d never been in trouble at work, nor had you ever been approached by anyone in this fashion. There was a current of tension in the small space. Coworkers surreptitiously peered around the corners of their own workspace; ears open for any tidbits of gossip that might make their day more interesting.

“Ms. [Y/L/N], if you would please follow us?”

Standing from your chair, the squeak of the plastic frame was thunderous in your mind, prickling dots of adrenaline present in your extremities as you followed along after Mr. Blaine, the remainder of the small troupe hovered around you and all you could see were sharks circling a potential meal.

The walk down the hallway to the elevator was awkward. The ride down the lift silent; a monotone buzz of the single light inside the only disturbance. Hinges protested with a squeal as the heavy steel doors slid open, your procession filing out silently around you. Approaching the HR department, your mind kicked into overdrive. Had you done something wrong? To your knowledge, nothing was amiss – hell, you’d never even called in sick. Leaning over her desk and selecting a large manila envelope from a stack inside her inbox, the woman turned to face you. A heavy sigh slipped from her pursed lips, replaced quickly by a ridged, flat line. She was un-amused. “Ms. [Y/L/N], we regret to inform you, that effective immediately, your services are no longer required at this agency.” “Please accept this severance package with our sincerest apologies.” Trailing off, her eyes were wide – her breath now held in her chest. Waiting for the backlash. Waiting for you to react. You could almost see the fear in her expression. You almost felt sorry for the woman, it wasn’t her fault that firing people was part of her job description, although you had the very distinct impression that she had no idea about it either. Eyes darting back to the considerable stack of identical packages that she’d selected yours from, the realization that you weren’t the only one this would happen to was immediate. “Ca-can I ask why?” While not timid, your tone was still just above a whisper – confusion laced through the words you uttered. “Unfortunately, Ms. [Y/L/N] – the company was sold last week. They’re moving the headquarters to another location…” Glancing across the room to Mr. Blaine, currently slumped against the wall, hands buried deep in the pockets of his dress pants – you noticed, for the first time his unkempt hair and loose tie. He’d been putting on a show in front of your co-workers. This was affecting him too, so it seemed. Scrubbing his hands over his face, the exhaustion and worry were evident in his expression. “So, this isn’t because I did something wrong?” You were careful how you worded the question. While you hadn’t been able to place why they might be letting you go, neither did you want them to think you had a reason. “No, unfortunately. You haven’t been the first this week, and…you’re not likely to be the last.” “I’m really, very sorry. I do wish you the best of luck Ms. [Y/L/N].” Holding his hand out, Mr. Blaine fixed you with a look that was, quite likely, the closest thing to you’d ever seen to sincerity. And so, for the first time in several years, you found yourself home in the middle of the afternoon – with nothing to do but wonder where your life was about to go. At least you had options. So, with a deep breath, you pulled your laptop from the couch, opened the email you had received earlier from Adam and accepted the offer – proposing a meeting over lunch to discuss details and to hopefully convince him that you didn’t -need- to live in California to fulfill this role.

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