#they told me to go home and take a Tylenol

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

best friendisms

bonus <3

[wandaslittlebird]

Pendulum

Wanda x Reader, WandaNat x Reader

After a session with Wanda the prior evening, you wake up alone in your bed and find you’re a bit more reliant on her than you’d like to be.

CW: Sub drop, (kinda) panic attack, mood swings, guilt, Mommy Kink, mentions of spanking, established WandaNat (no cheating), pills (Tylenol and Xanax), Wanda generally being a protective and worried mama

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: I may know hardly anything about dom drop, but I’m ✨well versed✨ in sub drop. I honestly think this one is adorable and I hope you all enjoy.

A/N: I wasn’t doing this consciously, but reading this back I realize I kinda did a reverse YAIL, so, if you haven’t already, go check out that series by @wandasaura

Fic based on this request

You woke up in a cold sweat, gasping for air before your head even left the pillow. It was hard to find anything to ground you in your dark bedroom, but with the help of your stuffed bear, Francis, and some breathing exercises you’d been working on in therapy, you were able to calm down at least enough to breathe. Still, you found yourself dizzy, nauseous, in pain, and, perhaps most excruciatingly, alone.

Wanda. Where was Wanda? Where was your mommy? You needed mommy.

“Mommy?” You cried quietly into the empty room. But she wasn’t there. Of course she wasn’t there. She was at home, tucked peacefully into bed with Natasha, her wife. And you were here, in your cold, empty apartment, all alone.

You turned to look at the clock on your bedside table. 1:30 am. It was far too late to call her. She had to get up for work in a couple hours. You had to get up for class in a couple hours.

But god, you needed her. You needed just to hear her voice. Everything felt so empty without her here. Your brain felt like it was underwater. You couldn’t think. It felt like your mind was strapped to a pendulum, swinging back and forth between extremes. It’s like half of your mind was begging for Wanda while the other half scolded you for your over-reliance. You wanted her, but you didn’t want to want her. It was hyper-dependence clashing with hyper-independence in an internal battle that left you dazed and confused.

Just call her, you thought. She told you to call her if this ever happened.

You’d been her submissive for months, and, though you’d never actually experienced sub drop with her, the two of you had discussed it extensively. “You can call me at any time,” she’d said. “Even if it's been days. I’m here for you in any way you need me.”

You grabbed your phone from the nightstand, pulling up her contact and hovering over the call button. But before you could press it, the pendulum swung back. You hurled the phone into your beanbag on the other side of the room.

What are you thinking? You can’t call her. She’s not your fucking girlfriend. You’re so reliant on her and she doesn’t even care about you. Leave her alone. This is your mess. Handle it.

You sighed, dragging your aching body off of your mattress. Everything hurt. The wounds she’d so loving inflicted the night before ached even more than they had when they were fresh. You wanted, needed, to feel her soft hands massaging soothing balm into your skin like they had only hours prior. But no.

Wanda. Wasn’t. Here.

It was just you and you alone. You needed to take care of this. You needed to pull yourself together and handle this on your own. You felt like you might be sick. The swinging of this pendulum was nauseating. You dragged yourself to the bathroom, pulling two Tylenol and a Xanax from the medicine cabinet. You sat on the toilet, tucking your head between your knees.

You didn’t understand what was happening. Or rather, you didn’t understand why it was happening. Wanda had done everything perfectly, just like she always did. She’d insisted you stay with her until you were out of subspace and your mind was clear again. She’d given you all the cuddles and love and reassurance you could possibly want. She’d even rubbed that soothing lotion on your sore ass despite the fit you’d pitched about it. This shouldn’t be happening. She’d done everything she was supposed to do. You were the problem.

You moved from the bathroom to your living room, pacing anxious circles until you worried the neighbors would complain. Then you decided on a walk.

A little walk to clear your head. That should help. No need to bother Wanda. You could take care of this by yourself.

—————

A little over two blocks proved you could not, in fact, take care of this by yourself. You found yourself collapsed on a bench outside your favorite coffee shop, her contact pulled up on your phone, sobbing as your thumb hovered over the call button.

You clicked it, anxiously awaiting an answer through the dial tone. Every second without an answer was a battle not to hit the red button, and smash your phone on the ground so you wouldn’t be tempted to try this again.

“Hello?” You heard, not Wanda, but Natasha’s sleep addled voice.

You silently cursed, debating hanging up the phone and forgetting the whole endeavor. You had very limited experience in dealing with Natasha. Where Wanda was warm and inviting, Natasha was cold and intimidating. Wanda had told you once that Natasha had a soft spot for you, but you remained unconvinced any of Natasha’s spots were “soft”.

Wanda had explained to you that Natasha’s had submissives of her own, but she tended to prefer brats, submissives who needed a harsher hand. “It’s not that she doesn’t like you,” Wanda had explained, “she’s just not used to sweet little girls like you.”

Still, the woman terrified you. And she definitely was NOT the one you wanted to be speaking to right now. But you took a deep breath, and answered her. “H-hello, Miss Natasha. C-can I speak to Wanda?” You stammered. You couldn’t keep the tears and desperation out of your voice when you added a “…please.”

“Y-yeah, sure honey. Just a second let me get her up,” she responded tiredly.

Your heart shattered at the thought of Natasha rousing a peaceful Wanda from her sleep just because you couldn’t get yourself together. But all such thoughts faded when you heard her voice through the phone. “Angel? Is that you? Is everything okay? Are you hurt? What’s going on?”

“Mommy…” you said tearfully. “I’m okay. I promise I’m okay, I just… I don’t know what’s happening. I mean I’m dropping, I know, but… I don’t know. I just needed so badly to hear you and talk to you. I’m sorry for waking you up. I’m so sorry. I know you said….” You were rambling breathlessly, but Wanda soon cut you off.

“Breathe for me, little love,” she instructed softly. “Three deep breaths. In and out. Can you do that for me, angel?”

You nodded despite knowing she couldn’t see you over the phone. You took three audible breaths, calming yourself down.

“Good girl,” she praised. “Now, can you tell me what’s happening?”

“I… I… Sub drop, I think,” you explained. “But like, really bad.”

“Aww,” she cooed. “I’m so sorry, my little love. Can you explain to me what you're feeling? Are you in pain? Do you need company?”

“I just… I don’t know why this is happening to me,” you cried. “Everything hurts so bad. My head feels like it’s spinning. And… And my body is so sore. It’s never happened like this with you before. You did everything so perfectly. I just don’t understand why I’m being like this.”

“Sub drop can happen no matter what, honey. And I’m so sorry it’s happening to you, sweetheart. Do you need to come back over?” She asked.

You pondered her question, the pendulum inside of you swinging violently. You felt like you were being torn in half between admitting you needed her help, and feeling defeated and weak that you couldn’t handle it on your own. But eventually you remembered it didn’t really matter. You made your choice when you took the Xanax. You weren’t going anywhere now. “I-I took some medicine. I can’t drive. I’m sorry,” you admitted.

“What medicine?” She asked, panicked. “Did you take too much? Are you okay?”

“It was just a Xanax. Just one. Just like I take for school sometimes,” you reassured.

You heard her breathe a sigh of relief on the other end of the line. “Okay, sweetheart. I’m sorry I panicked. You know I just worry sometimes. I tell you what, Nat and I are going to get you an Uber, and then you can spend the rest of the night here, okay?”

“Wanda, you don’t have to-“ You didn’t use her real name very often given the exclusively sexual nature of your relationship, but you needed her to know she wasn’t responsible for being your dominant right now. She was Wanda, and you were you: two grown adults. She didn’t have any obligation to take care of you right now, in the middle of the night on a Wednesday.

“But I want to, darling,” she interrupted. “Is that okay?”

“Y-yeah, but I’m not at the house right now.”

You heard her breath catch. “Where are you, honey? You promise me you’re safe?”

“I-I’m just at the coffee shop,” you explained. “I wanted to take a walk, b-but I didn’t make it very far.”

Wanda sighed. She’d have to have a little talk with you about walking all by yourself in the middle of the night. But not right now. Right now she just needed you in her arms as quickly as she could have you. “Alright, love. You’ve got a car on its way. Just stay on the phone with me until it gets there, okay?”

“O-okay.”

—————

The car was there within five minutes of Wanda’s order. Most of that time was just filled with tears and mumbled apologies on your end, and reassurance and encouragement on hers.

She waited anxiously by the front door for you to arrive, peeking out of the blinds with every set of headlights that passed by. She clutched her robe tight against her chest. If you were there, you would’ve teased her about her anxious habit. You always said she was “practically clutching her pearls.”

When you finally pulled into the driveway, she was standing in the front door frame before you could even get out of the car.

“Mommy!” You ran up to her, nearly tripping on the front porch steps on your way in. You were even more hysterical now that you were seeing her in person. Something about the sight of her made you fall apart. You felt safe now. You were going to fall, and she was going to catch you, and everything was going to be okay.

“Careful, love,” she chided, taking you into her arms. “Mommy’s got you. It’s okay. You’re okay. I’m gonna take care of you and I’m not gonna let anything bad happen to you.”

It sounded more like she was reassuring herself than anything, but her words still washed over you like a wave of relief. “I missed you, mommy.”

“I know you did, angel,” she said, kissing you on the temple. “Mommy missed you, too.”

She wrapped her arms just under your ass, still sore and super sensitive from your activities earlier that night. She picked you up, wrapping your legs around your waist. You squeaked in a mixture of surprise and pain.

“I’m sorry, baby. I know you’re sore. I’ll be gentle,” she cooed. “Let’s get you to bed. Tasha will be waiting for us.”

You just cried, burying your face into Wanda’s neck as she carried you up the stairs. You couldn’t talk anymore. You were so completely exhausted, mentally and physically. But it was okay. You had your mommy and everything was going to be okay. The bedroom door was already open, and, as Wanda had expected, Natasha was sat up against the headboard.

“Is that a little angel I see there?” You heard Natasha ask. Wanda sat you on her lap at the end of the bed, bending down to take off your shoes.

You peaked your eyes out from Wanda’s neck before perching your chin on her shoulder. “Hi Miss Natasha,” you sniffled. “I’m sorry I woke you up.”

“That’s alright, little angel,” she assured, sliding closer to you and Wanda on the bed. She looked so much kinder than usual, soft sleepy eyes smiling at you through your tears. “Is it okay if I touch you?”

You nodded, still teary eyed and snotty on Wanda’s lap while she unlaced your shoes.

Natasha cupped your cheek, wiping away stray tears. “It must’ve been so scary to start dropping without your mommy there, huh?” Her touch was unexpectedly gentle, as were her words. Maybe Wanda was right, maybe she really did have a soft spot for you.

You nodded, trying to speak but only managing to whimper a “mhm.” You blushed a little with embarrassment. Wanda must’ve told her all about your situation. You wondered momentarily if she thought your behavior was overblown or ridiculous, but if she did, her gentle face showed no indication.

“But now you’ve got your mommy and everything’s gonna be okay, right?”

You nodded again. “I-I hope you don’t mind if I steal your wife for a little bit for-for some extra snuggles.”

“Not at all little angel.” Natasha smiled softly. She could see your anxious embarrassment, and decided, despite her inexperience with soft subs, she’d make an attempt to soothe you. She knew she wasn't expected to, but she found herself desperate to make you feel better, even if it was only a little bit. “Your mommy could hardly stop bragging about you tonight, you know?”

“Re-really?” You asked. Natasha could see the tiniest little twinkle in your teary eyes.

“Really,” she confirmed. “She told me she was so proud of her sweet girl for calling her, because that must’ve been so scary for her, to call in the middle of the night. She knows you don’t like to wake people up, and asking for help when you need it is so so hard. And I said ‘wow, it sounds like you have the bravest little angel in the whole world. I think she deserves some extra special snuggles from mommy tonight, for being so brave.’”

“Y-you really think so?” you asked bashfully, hiding back in Wanda’s neck.

“I really do,” she confirmed. “And you know your mommy keeps her phone on silent in the nighttime. But she cares about you so much she has a special setting so it rings just for you.”

You smiled. Your heart fluttered, not only at the idea Wanda had her phone on for you, but also at the thought that Natasha must’ve known it was you before she answered. “I-I thought you might be mad at me,” you confessed. “Cause you and-and mommy were probably all snuggled up in bed and I came in and messed it all up!”

Natasha stroked your cheek as she shook her head. “No angel. Never. You could never mess up one of our snuggles by asking to be a part of it. We’re both so proud of you, for calling and getting help.”

“P-promise?” You asked.

Natasha held out her pinky, which you wrapped with your own. “Promise.” She confirmed.

Wanda finally got your shoes off and placed them on the floor next to the bed. “Okay little love,” she announced, easing your pajama pants down around your knees. “I’m gonna get some of the nice lotion again, okay?” She’d already put a little on earlier, but she figured it would probably do quite a bit to soothe your current pains, both physically and emotionally.

You wrapped yourself around her, refusing to let her move. You didn’t need silly lotion, you needed her. You whined at the prospect of having to let go.

Natasha giggled and sat down next to Wanda. “Do you want me to do your lotion while you hang onto mommy?”

You nodded, sending her into the next room. Wanda kissed your temple. “I told you she likes you.”

“I’m so spoiled,” you mumbled blissfully into her neck.

“You deserve it, angel,” she said.

Natasha returned to the room with the bottle of lotion. She approached you and rubbed your back gently. “Alright little angel, is it okay if I touch your bottom, or do you want mommy to do that part?”

You pondered for a moment. On one hand, having Wanda do it would mean getting to lay over her lap again. But, you found yourself inexplicably excited by the thought of Natasha putting your lotion on. Maybe, if you played your cards right, you could have the best of both worlds.

“You can do it, Miss Natasha,” you said while flipping yourself over to lay over Wanda’s lap.

“Oh,” Wanda squeaked in pleasant surprise. From this position she could’ve just as easily applied the lotion. She was pleased to know that you wanted Natasha to do it, though. She pulled up your shirt and rubbed your back.

“Okay, it’s gonna be a little cold,” Natasha advised, giggling a little bit when you jumped at the cool liquid anyway. Her hands were so gentle as she soothed your raw skin. You wondered if she was this gentle with her subs as well. “All done. Do you want a kiss?”

You nodded, feeling so completely at ease with the two women taking care of you. Natasha placed a gentle kiss to each of your red ass cheeks.

“Does Tasha’s kisses make it feel all better?” Wanda asked.

You nodded into Wanda’s thigh.

“I’m glad I could help,” Natasha giggled, placing the lotion on Wanda’s nightstand so it’d be ready for you again in the morning. She crawled back into bed, making herself comfortable on her side.

Wanda placed you face down on her own side of the bed, trying not to disturb you too much as she slid her legs out from under your body. She crawled over you, placing herself in the middle between you and Natasha, pulling you tight into her side.

You laid your head on her chest, catching a glimpse of Natasha’s pretty smile in the low lighting. She really didn’t look like she minded you being here at all. In fact, she looked happy.

In your fuzzy haze, you waved at her from across the bed.

Wanda and Natasha both giggled, hearts swelling at the innocence of the gesture. You just wanted Natasha to feel included, and what better way to acknowledge her presence than with a kind wave hello.

Natasha waved back. “Hi, little angel,” she said, reaching over Wanda to pinch your cheek.

You looked up at Wanda, your big eyes gently pleading. “Mommy, do you think I could sleep on your other side so I can be closer to Miss Natasha?”

Wanda smiled giddily. She never expected such a request from you, but she was more than happy to oblige. She was overjoyed to see your relationship with Natasha growing. “Of course, sweet girl,” she said, effortlessly flipping you over to her other side.

“You know, you don’t have to call her Miss Natasha,” Wanda said. You’d always called her that since you’d first met her without any prompting to do so. She certainly didn’t mind, but Wanda had always secretly hoped you’d get past the formality. There was nothing she wanted more than for her two favorite people to love each other as much as she loved them. “I bet she’d like it if you called her daddy. Only if you wanted to.”

You faced Natasha, who looked surprised at the proposal, but nodded.

“I thought only your subs were allowed to call you that?” You said, equally shocked by Wanda’s words.

“Hmm…” she pretended to ponder the question. “For my little angel I think I can make an exception.”

You smiled. “In that case,” you pressed a small kiss to her cheek. “Goodnight daddy.” You turned back to Wanda, placing a kiss on her jaw as you snuggled back into her chest. “Goodnight mommy. I love you.”

“Sweet dreams, little angel,” Natasha said, wrapping herself up behind you.

“Get some rest, little love,” Wanda said, kissing your head.

And finally, the pendulum stopped swinging.

Taglist (ha I remembered this time): @boredandneedsfanfic @marvelwomenarehot0

[landofgay]

what do when your whole back hurts

[inkskinned]

you have to go to work so you can pay for your doctor, who is not taking your insurance right now, and if you say i can't afford the doctor's you are told - get a better job. it is very sad that you are unwell, yes, but maybe you should have thought about that before not having a better job.

(where is the better job? who is giving out these better jobs? you are sick, you are hurting - how the hell are you supposed to be well enough for this better job?)

but you go to the doctor because you had the nerve to be hurt or sick or whatever else. and they tell you that it is because you have anxiety. you try your best. you are a self-advocate. you've done the reading (which sometimes pisses them off worse, honestly). you say it is actually adding to my anxiety, it is effecting my quality of life. so they say that you are fat. they say that all young people have this happen to them, isn't it a medical marvel! they say that you should eat more vegetables. they say that you probably just need to lose a little more weight, and that you are faking it for attention.

(what attention could this doctor possibly give? what validation? that's their fucking job, isn't it?)

there is always a hypochondriac, right. someone always tells you about a hypochondriac. or someone who is unnecessarily aggressive during the worst days of their life. or someone looking "for a quick fix". or some idiot who wasn't educated about how to properly care for themselves who just abandons their treatment. and again, the hypochondriac, the overly-cautious hysteric. these people don't deserve to be treated like humans (right), and since you might be one of these people, you also don't get treated like a human. because those people can really fuck with the system, you now have to pay for it. and besides. you're actually probably faking it.

(more often than not, you find a 2:1 ratio of these stories. for every "hypochondriac", there are 2 people who knew something was wrong, and yet nobody could fucking find it. the story often ends with pointless suffering. the story often ends with and now it's too late, and it's going to kill me.)

you are actually just making excuses. someone else got that procedure or that diagnosis and he's fine, you should be fine too. someone else said they watched a documentary about other inspirational people with your exact same condition, maybe you should be inspirational, too. you're just too morbid. your pain and your experience is probably just not statistically concerning. it is all self-reported anyway, and you're just being a baby.

(once, while sitting down in the middle of making coffee, you had the sudden, horrible thought - i could kill myself to make the pain stop. you had to call your best friend after that. had to pet your dog. had to cry about it in the shower. you won't, but that moment - god, fuck. the pain just goes on and on.)

you know someone who went in for routine surgery and said i still feel everything. they told her to just relax. it took her kicking and screaming before they figured out she wasn't lying - the anesthetic drip hadn't been working. you know someone who went in for severe migraines who was told drink water and lose weight. you know someone who was actively bleeding out and throwing up in the ER and was told you're just having a bad period.

in the ER there are always these little posters saying things like "don't wait! get checked today!" and you think about how often you do wait. how often the days spool out. you once waited a full week before seeing the doctor for what you thought was a sprained wrist. it had actually been broken - they had to rebreak it to set it.

but you go into the doctor. the problem you're having is immediate. the person behind the counter frowns and says we're not taking your insurance. you will be paying for this out-of-pocket.

they send you home with tylenol and a little health packet about weight loss or anxiety or attention deficit. on the front it has your birthday and diagnosis. you think about crying, and the words swim. it might as well say go fuck yourself. it might as well say you're a fucking idiot. it might as well say light your money on fire and lie down in it. and the entire fucking time - the problem persists.

it's okay. it's okay, it's just another thing, you think. it's just another thing i have to learn to live with.

[hellyeahsickaf]

The way addicts and chronically ill people are dehumanized is so exhausting

The normalization of this shit in medical and casual settings is genuinely mind boggling. Addicts and disabled people go through so much bullshit. I've dealt with many fucked up doctors when I just needed help

I had a kidney infection, some months back. This is always extremely medically urgent, and I was likely only hours from sepsis. I went to the hospital reporting my pain to be a 9/10. 9 because my 10 was gallstones. I experienced severe malpractice at the hospital and the doctor reported exams that never occured and false information while making me wait with nothing more than tylenol to hold me over (didn't touch the pain) and bring my fever down but that's a whole other story

They did however, deny me the pain medication I needed until it was time to go home. I'm deathly allergic to NSAIDS, but that's something an addict might say so they witheld pain relief because they'd rather me suffer just in case I'm a different kind of sick. An entire night, maybe 6 hours in the ER and they couldn't give me anything, not a small dose of morphine or one norco even a few hours prior to take the edge off of the pain while I was curled up shaking and crying. Just in case I was an addict looking for my fix, and my suffering was just withdrawals and good acting. In that case maybe I deserved it and should be denied my humanity. God forbid in that case I'm so desperate to alleviate unbearable withdrawals that I spend all night in the ER crying. Not the first time I've experienced red tape just to get relief from excruciating pain

But whatever. As per protocol I was asked to follow up with my pcp. So a few days later I called to set an appointment, but I'd also run out of norco and desperate to relieve the pain I asked if I could be filled even enough for a few days, until the pain was bearable. I had difficulty walking, laying down, and I again, can't take most pain relievers. The receptionist was nice and understanding, actually got me in touch with the doctor because she wanted me to be able to get my refill. Probably heard the pain in my voice even. She believed me

She transfers me over to the doctor and I tell him I'd like a follow up and ask if he could fill my painkillers. I would've acceped a no from him, I just needed my follow up. He asked about my condition, I told him my diagnosis and how much pain I was in

And he laughed.

Got a real hoot out of it, like he had me all figured out. Like he caught me trying to cheat the system. I must be trying to get high or make some money with a few days worth of norco as i'm nearly in tears from the pain even while calling

He tells me through his laughter "I don't prescribe painkillers for 'kidney infections'" saying it with a mocking emphasis on those words, as if I'd said "stubbed toe". Follows with "Yeah haha, bye." and hangs up on me. No follow up like I called for. Needless to say I no longer have a pcp but truly if he thought I was an addict trying to take advantage of him he should have still treated me professionally. Maybe not cackled when I said my pain was excruciating for a start

I just don't understand why the hell so many doctors can be so apathetic to people's suffering. Addicts deserve better and so do disabled people- whether you think they're addicts or not. The assumption that we're lying, trying to trick them and are feigning pain to do it is disgusting, listening to your patients is so important. And if that were the case they could have some sympathy and ask themselves what it would take for someone to go those lengths, take such drastic measures and go through that trouble to obtain those substances.

Addiction is not a moral failing. Many disabled and chronically ill people unfortunately rely on medications that have addictive properties. About 80% of heroin addicts first misused prescription drugs. However only about 4-6% of those addicted to prescription drugs switch to things like heroin. And instead of help or compassion for people who just need help (addicts or not), they just figure we're one in the same and treat us like subhuman degenerates, leeches on society. And I think people need to change how they view addiction. Doctors need to change how they view addiction

[lokischocolatefountain]

Sickness and Health

A married!Javi Drabble based on this request

Series Masterlist

Rating: All fluff except for a few inappropriate words

A/N: I had to use this gif because I couldn’t think of anything for sick Javi. Just imagine he’s wiping his snot instead of his sweat (you’re welcome for the new mental association I’ve created)🤪. I got this request a month ago and I’m writing it only now 🙈 Sorry anon requester, but I hope you see this and like it 💜

I’ll be fine, he said. It’s just allergies, he said. My god querida, stop mothering me, he said. Yet here he was, flopped on the sofa with a leg on the floor as he snored. The man never came home before her. There were times when he’d come home briefly in the morning to shower and put on a fresh set of clothes before bolting out the door with nothing to spare her other than a rushed kiss. And now here he was at 5 PM, sleeping.

She placed a hand on his forehead, wincing when she found him burning up. Not to say she told him so, but she told him so. But he would hear none of it. The man dropped her off at work with the promise that he’d take an Advil if he needed before driving away to the embassy. He probably forgot. Or his promise was made just to placate her, stop her from being the nagging wife.

She didn’t quite know how to do it, the wife thing. Was she supposed to force a pill down his throat? Would she be the annoying nagging wife men talked shit about to their friends if she did? Was she supposed to leave him be? Would she be a bad wife for neglecting him and letting him go to work ill?

Knowing the man, he probably didn’t have anything to eat. His only intake was whiskey and tobacco from all the smoking he did. Was she supposed to pack him lunch? Send food to the embassy? She didn’t know. He never asked for anything and was happy to eat what she gave him when he came home. She provided dinner, leaving it on the table and leaving a note on his bed reminding him to eat it. Sometimes she managed to force a glass of OJ into his hand in the morning. But that was all. Lunch was a big question mark. What he ate when in Medellin was a blind spot.

Retrieving some chicken, carrot, celery and broth from the refrigerator, she got to work. With some time, spices and low music playing on the radio, the soup was ready to be served.

She poured some into a bowl, placed it on the coffee table and hovered over him. Beads of sweat had collected on his forehead, either from the hot weather or his sickness. Messy black hair stuck to his forehead and she reached over and pushed it back.

“Javi…”

Nothing. She placed a hand on his shoulder and shook gently. “Javi?” He stayed still as a rock. Goddamn. The man usually woke up at the slightest noise. A bullet could leave a gun two miles away and he would hear it. It was rare that he slept at all, so when he did, she did everything in her power to keep his surroundings quiet.

“Mi amor…” she called, caressing his sweat soaked forehead. “Come on, get up. You need to eat something.”

He trembled under her touch and whined something incomprehensible. She tried again, called his name while giving gentle rubs to his shoulders. “…hurts.”

“I know, baby. I know,” she said, smiling at his half-awake form. He looked so sweet like this, so innocent and childlike. She wanted to pick him up like he was a puppy and give him a million kisses. He might be a big bad federal agent but sleeping on their couch like this, he was her little puppy.

“… ‘s the paperwork and…Wysession…la Quica…umm and yeah what do I think?” He mumbled, making her laugh. This fucker would not survive without his job. It took a few more tries and sweet words, some of which embarrassing enough that she’d never repeat to him if he were awake. His eyes opened a little, his mumbling about work dimmed down and he spoke her name.

“Yeah. It’s me. Get up. I made soup. You should have some, have a Tylenol and sleep on the bed. Okay?”

“What time is it?” He asked, sitting up suddenly.

“Six thirty three.” The man always wanted the exact time. No rounding up or down. It was unnerving.

He buried his face in his hands and rubbed his eyes with the flat of his palms. “Fuck. Got an early meeting at eight with Noonan. Gonna be late. She’ll kill me,” he said, getting up. He hunched over the couch, hand gripping on to the leather of the headrest for support as his other hand clutches his head.

“8 PM is not an early meeting. Unless you’re talking about a meeting scheduled for tomorrow morning.”

“Tomorrow? Wait, what’s the time?”

“Six thirty. In the evening. You have a bad fever and you were asleep on the couch when I got home at five.”

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath.

“Yeah. Fuck. Now sit down and have some soup. You can’t have Tylenol on an empty stomach.”

“Actually, I can. The body absorbs it faster on an empty stomach.”

“Alright buddy, sit down and have the soup,” she said, coaxing him to sit next to her on the couch. He sat a bit too close to her, leaning on her shoulder and placing his weight on her.

“Feel like absolute shit,” he said, dipping the spoon into the bowl of hot soup. He blew on it once and then twice before drinking it. “So good.”

“Thank you, baby,” he said, pulling her to his side. She did not want to contract whatever he had and proximity would increase the chances of infection. But she didn’t have the heart to push him away. Even on a normal day, the man liked physical contact with her. It could be anything from a hand on her back when they were out in public to full on cuddling her in bed. He just showed his affection through touch. She didn’t want to deny him affection when he was so vulnerable and soft.

He drank it down quietly, wincing every now and then from his headache. He even surprised her by asking for a second helping and she gave it to him gladly, even topping his bowl up another time when he wasn’t looking.

“Now Tylenol.”

“Nooo,” he whined, flopping back on the backrest of the couch. “Hate pills.”

She laughed and popped a pill out of the foil wrapper before handing a glass of water to him. “Aww, is the big baby afraid of pills?”

“Not scared,” he pouted and folded his arms over his chest, looking like a petulant three year old. Good god. Was this really the man being paid by the US government to catch Escobar? Or was he the secret sweet cuddly twin to her grumpy sassy Javi?

“Right. Definitely not scared. Now have it.”

“I’ll be fine without it. Just need to sleep.”

“Sure, Dr. Peña. If you say so,” she teased. She was definitely noting down all the details of his behavior in her head to tease him with later. “Can you have the liquid Tylenol?” She asked, recalling seeing a bottle of it in their medicine cabinet.

“Yeah.”

“Okay,” she said, getting up to go fetch the Tylenol for him. Before she could step away, his hand wrapped around her wrist. She looked back at him to find him staring at her with those big brown eyes, all wide and precious. He was still grumpy, but less intimidating and more adorable. “I need to take my hand with me, Agente…”

“No.”

“No?”

“Don’t go. I miss you.”

“It’ll just be gone for a minute. I’ll get you your Tylenol and be right back.” Huffing, he finally let go of her hand. When she returned, he smiled up at her lazily before grabbing both her wrists.

“Javi…I can’t give you your medicine if you don’t let go of my hand.”

“Exactly.”

“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of this too. There is no plan C, Javier. Pill or this,” she said, holding up the bottle of the liquid acetaminophen.

“That tastes like shit.”

“Yeah. You’ll survive.”

“I wooooon’t,” he whined, pulling her onto his lap. He may be very sick, but he was still strong and worse, unaware of how much force he exerted. She fell with her face forward, smushing into his chest. She made a low sound of satisfaction before wrapping his arms around her and settling his chin on her head.

“Bebito…”

“‘m not your bebito. I’m your husband.”

“Yeah yeah. Then stop acting like a bebito, bebito.”

“Don’t do this to me. That thing tastes vile. Tastes like shit. Like, like horse shit mixed in with rat poison.”

“God, you drama queen,” she teased, adjusting herself on his lap to sit up properly. “It’s just 20 ml. Have some of it, drink some water to wash the taste off and go to bed. God knows you need the rest.”

“Fine. On one condition.”

“Uh huh?”

“Bit of whiskey after the medicine.”

Absolutely not.

“Of course, baby. All the whiskey you want,” she lied through her sweet smile. She did not have the energy to argue with a gigantic baby she couldn’t yell at. She’d make him have the medicine first and figure out the rest when she had to.

At the mention of whiskey, he smiled wider than the day they got married and happily let go of her wrists. She hissed at the dull pain around them, flushing when she realized just how strong he was. Yet he never used such strength on her, handling her gentler than this even when she asked for rough treatment. She’d have to ask for more the next time… she looked away from him embarrassed. The man was sick and delirious, for fuck’s sake. It wasn’t the most appropriate time to be horny.

“Tilt your head back,” she ordered and he followed immediately, exposing his neck to her. “Now open your mouth,” she said, bringing the little cup of the liquid to his lips. It went alright for the first second, but when it touched his tastebuds, he gagged and groaned.

“Uhh that was fucking disgusting!”

“That was just 10 ml. You need another 10 for the full dosage.”

“No, no, no. Please don’t do this,” he begged before sticking his tongue out as though casting out the organ for making him experience the medicine’s taste.

“Please, Javier… Just one more, okay?” She said, pouring him the other half of the dose. “Imagine you’re taking a tequila shot.”

“Then it should be on your bellybutton with salt on your tits and a lemon wedge between your lips.”

Horndog

“Suuure. You couldn’t tell it was evening and not morning just half an hour back but you think you can do a body shot, huh?”

“Absolutely can. You didn’t know me in college. Plus I’ll do anything to lick your tits,” he said, his eyes looking too adorable for the things he said. Shouldn’t he be too sick to be horny?

“Alright big guy, open up” she said, tipping his chin back and forcing the rest of his medicine down his throat. He groaned and whined once more and summoned a couple demons with the sounds he produced.

“Tequila?” He asked, pouting as he fixed his puppy dog eyes on her.

“Sure. Go sit on the bed and I’ll bring you the goods,” she said, helping him get off the couch.

“Perfect. You’re the best wife, you know that?”

“I’m your only wife. You don’t have much else to compare me to, do you?”

“Fine, I’ll get more wives. Test the hypo- hypo…tenuse?” He asked, squinting.

“Hypothesis.”

“That’s what I said.”

“You said hypotenuse. That’s the longest side of a right angled triangle.”

“The fuck,” he said under his breath, allowing her to lead him to their bedroom. When she’d gotten him to lie down, he pulled her to himself and held her to his chest. She was yet to have dinner and there was a tv program she’d wanted to watch before bed. But with his arms around her and his lips mumbling in his sleep, she couldn’t bring herself to pull away.

It wasn’t often that she got to be wrapped up in his arms at this early hour. Why fight it when she could savor it.

[marvelslut16]

The Flu

Prompt number: 22 "Who takes care of you?"

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner

Rating: T(een)

Word count: 2.8k+

Warnings: Age gap relationship. Dbf. Swearing. Boss and employee.

A/N: A few hours late for day 4, but I was a busy woman today. Aaron and Jack never go into the witness protection program, they catch Peter Lewis right away.

The job was just supposed to be temporary, one to help you get back on your feet after dropping out of school, and you got to help your long time infatuation Aaron Hotchner now that Jess was moving out of state. It was a win win in your eyes, and it got your dad off your back. But that was almost two years ago now, and there was no end in sight for your current arrangement as Jack’s live in nanny. 

The one flaw in your logic was how drop dead gorgeous your boss is. Not that that is new information, you’d been drooling over him since you were sixteen when you saw him shirtless at a backyard/pool party your dad threw. But now it’s so much worse, because he’s so sexy doing all of his mundane tasks. Making coffee at five in the morning with bedhead? Sexy. Making dinner in one of his tight white dress shirts when he gets home from a case early? Still sexy. Dressed down in casual clothes coaching Jack’s soccer team? The most sexy.

As you lament, yet again, to your best friend over text about how unfairly hot Aaron Hotchner is, the front door opens. As if he knew you were talking about him, he enters the house with a thud having dropped his go bag by the front door. He slowly makes his way to the kitchen, where you are, and when he does you finally notice how miserable he looks. His dark hair is slicked to his forehead, his face pale- except for his cheeks which are bright red, and his eyes are bloodshot.

“Oh my god, Aaron! Are you okay?” your voice raising an octave, you rush over to him and guide him to one of the barstools in front of his large island.  

“I’m fine, the team overreacted and sent me home,” he almost sounds convincing, until he finishes the sentence with a loud sneeze. 

“Awww,” you rub your hand up and down his back comfortingly. “Did Jackers give you the flu?”

“No,” he argues, and tries to quietly sniffle. 

“That’s it, straight to bed young man,” your hands resting on your hips as you tell him the same thing you told Jack a week ago when he came home from school with the flu. “While you take a nap I’ll make you some homemade chicken noodle soup.”

“It’s fine (Y/N), you don’t have to do that. I’m capable of making my own lunch,” he looks like a petulant child, his hands balled in fists also resting on his hips. 

“When was the last time you let someone take care of you Aaron?” you ask, becoming annoyed that he keeps fighting you. “Six months ago when you were in the hospital, that’s when. And then you still fought it tooth and nail. Who takes care of you?”

“I can take care of myself,” he starts coughing as a result of lowering his voice in order to use his boss voice. A voice he only ever uses on you when you try to care for him too.

“You want to go back to work again soon right?” he nods. “So just listen to me. Take some Tylenol and go lay down. Please let me make you some soup.”

He finally relents and heads upstairs to bed, but not before you get him a large glass of water. Thankfully you were planning on making chicken for dinner, so you already have some thawing. You waste no time and start cooking the chicken in one pot, then you chop the vegetables. After the chicken has been shredded and the soup is simmering, making the whole house smell delicious, you sneak upstairs to check on your patient.

You’re happy to see that he’s laying in the middle of his bed bundled up in his sheets with little snores escaping him.Despite him being sick, he still looks far more at peace and relaxed in this moment then he has since you met him back when he was still a prosecutor. After a few minutes of taking him in, you head back to the kitchen and toast and butter bread to go with his soup. The soup is done ten minutes later, and you ladle a nice heaping bowl for him. 

You trek back up the stairs, walk into Aaron’s room and stand beside his bed. You’ve woken him up a bunch of times when he falls asleep watching movies with you and Jack or when he falls asleep at the island going over paperwork for work, but this feels different. You’re in his bedroom, you’re boss’ bedroom. Overcoming your nerves you reach forward and gently shake his shoulder, he wakes with a start whipping his hand to grasp your wrist in a bruising grip. 

“Aaron,” you startle, he doesn’t register that you aren’t a threat in his half asleep stupor. “It’s me, it’s (Y/N).”

“(Y/N)?” he snaps out of it, face contorting into a frown when he sees his white knuckled grip around your wrist. “Shit! I’m so sorry!”

“It’s fine,” you smile lightly, rubbing your wrist when he finally lets go. “It’s my fault, I shouldn’t have woken you up like that.”

“It’s my fault,” he argues, sitting up and leaning against his mahogany headboard. “I couldn’t stop thinking about the case at work before I fell asleep, I must have dreamt about it.”

“It’s fine Aaron, I just wanted to let you know the soup is done, there’s a bowl cooling on the island for you,” you smile as you slowly back out of his room, suddenly feeling like you’re intruding. 

Aaron doesn’t say anything else, so you slip out of the room and head back to the kitchen to start cleaning up. Aaron joins you a few minutes later, wrapped tightly in his blue robe Jack picked out for him for Christmas last year. Aaron lets out an involuntary moan after taking a spoonful of soup, and you clench your thighs together at the delicious sound.

“This is the best chicken noodle soup I’ve ever had,” Aaron says once he’s scarfed down half of his bowl. 

“You hate chicken noodle soup,” you giggle, remembering the cute way his nose crinkled in disgust when that was the only soup at some fancy restaurant the team and their families went to last year. 

“Not this one!” he shovels in another spoonful. 

You give Aaron another helping of the soup, glad that he’s eating and hydrating himself, before putting the rest into a container and into the fridge. You have just enough time to wash the pot and counters before heading to pick Jack up from school.

“I’m gonna head out and get Jackers in a few minutes,” you tell Aaron as he starts sneezing again. “Once you finish that, go lay back down and drink lots of water.”

“You can’t tell me what to do,” he murmurs thinking you won’t be able to hear him. But you do, and you glare at him for his childish antics. He finally relents, “okay.”

The drive to get Jack isn’t very long, but after the whole Peter Lewis fiasco, Aaron won’t let Jack walk home or ride the bus. And you don’t blame him. Your dad told you about Jack getting stalked during one of your weekly phone calls while you were away for school, you were rattled for the Hotchner’s. 

“(Y/N)!” Jack comes running at you when he sees you, you bend down and scoop him into your arms and carry him to the car. You’ll never get tired of how excited he gets to see you when you pick him up, it’s the same happy reaction every day. 

“How was school buddy? Get all the homework you missed last week when you were home sick?” you bombard him with questions as you unlock the car.

“It was great! We got to play soccer in gym today and I scored three times!” Jack wiggles in excitement before you set him back on the ground. 

“That's great buddy!” you smile at him as he slips into his seat. 

“Yes I got all of my make up work,” he pouts once you get into the driver's seat. “Lots of fractions, and you know how much I hate those.”

“I’ll tell ya what, you do one of your math worksheets and then we can make your dad a get well soon card,” over your time with the Hotchner’s you’ve learned that bargaining is how to incentivise the both of them. “He came home from work early with the flu.”

“Dad’s home?” Jack start’s to excitedly bounce in his seat, happy that he’ll get to spend more time with his favorite person.

“Yeah, but just remember that he’s not feeling his best so he won’t be able to do a lot,” a bittersweet smile crosses your face, it’s not fair that they don’t get to spend more time with one another. It’s not fair that Aaron has to sacrifice his personal life to make the world a better place for everyone else. 

When you walk in the door you're greeted with the sight of Aaron bundled up on the couch under three blankets, the news playing quietly on the TV. Jack gives his dad a big hug before scurrying off to the kitchen to grab a snack and start his homework. You walk up to the lump on the couch that was once Aaron and reach your forearm forward to feel his forehead, and sure enough he’s much warmer than he should be. 

“I don’t feel good,” Aaron whines, making the same pouty face Jack made all last week. “Everything aches.”

“I know sweetheart,” you let the term of endearment slip without thinking, too focused on trying to comfort Aaron. “You have a fever, you need to drink lots of water and get out from under those blankets.”

“No,” he huffs, clutching onto his blankets like he needs them to live. “I don’t have a fever, it’s just cold in here.”

“Aaron it's seventy two degrees in here, it’s not cold. You need to take the blankets off, it’ll only make it worse,” he shakes his head sinking further into the couch. “Fine, if I go grab the thermometer and it says you have a fever, I’m taking both of your blankets into the kitchen with me while I help Jack with his homework.”

You don’t give him time to respond before you head to the upstairs bathroom where you had checked Jack for a fever this morning before school. When you get back to him, Aaron has sunk further down into the couch and cocoon of blankets trying to hide from the thermometer in your hand. You eventually get it in his mouth and sure enough he has a one hundred one degree fever.

“Hand over those blankets,” you reach your hand out for them, and he reluctantly gives them to you. “Now drink some water and watch the news. And no more blankets!”

You help Jack with two math worksheets before he remembers your deal, and demands you make a card. He decorates the printer paper in every color marker and tops it off with those marker stamps you got him for his birthday. Jack even makes you sign your name on the card. 

“Is this for me?” Aaron coughs and sits up when Jack thrusts the card in his face. “Aww thanks buddy, I love it!” Jack sits on the couch with his dad for a few minutes, but after seeing the news is on he gets up and leaves. 

“You feeling up for dinner?” you ask Aaron, when Jack heads back to finish some more homework. “It’s too late for me to make something, is there any take out you want?”

“Happy Meal!” Jack yells from the kitchen

“You heard the little man, we’re having McDonalds tonight,” Aaron smiles at you as you grab your keys and call Jack to come ride with you.

The rest of the night is stress free, Jack actually listens to you when you tell him it’s time to shower and get ready for bed, all because his dad is sick and doesn’t want to make it worse. Well it’s stress free where Jack is concerned, you still have to deal with the full grown baby you call your boss. 

“Time for bed Aaron,” you tell him after you’ve dried Jack’s hair and read him to sleep. “I know you don’t want to but you need to get your rest.”

“I’m not tired,” he says, even though he grabs your hand when you hold it out to him, you pull him out of his chair and lead him up the stairs and to his room 

“Now take two more Tylenol and go to sleep,” he reluctantly takes the pills out of your hand and throws them back dry.

“There, are you happy?”

“I’m ecstatic,” you deadpan, moving to fluff his pillows for him.

“Thank you,” Aaron catches your gaze when he speaks, making sure to hold it.

“It's my job,” you dismiss his praise, not wanting to let yourself think about it too much and read too deep into it. 

“No it's not, you always go above and beyond for us, for me,” Aaron gently catches the wrist he squeezed earlier making a mental image of the faint bruise marring your skin, and vowing to never let the world hurt you. 

“Aaron,” your breath catches at the delicate ghosting of his fingertips on the inside of your wrist.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers, leaning forward and now it’s his lips ghosting over your wrist. You swear your heart stops when he pushes down harder, leaving a trail of kisses around your wrist. 

“What are you doing?” you ask breathlessly, the last thing you want is for him to stop, but you also need to make sure he’s in his right mind when doing this. 

“Kissing you,” the words fall out of his mouth effortlessly, like they’re said all of the time. His mouth travels up your arm and he’s kissing the sensitive crook of your elbow. 

Aaron pulls you down next to him in bed, quickly scooping you up and cradling you in his arms. You're at a loss for words, your dream is coming true. Aaron Hotchner actually wants you as much as you want him, and it isn’t a dream. When you’re lost in thought his lips descend on yours, and soon you get lost in him instead. There’s no rush to your kiss, just a slow languid strokes of his tongue twining with yours. It’s the perfect first kiss, there’s a heat to it, but no sense of urgency to get it over with. 

“(Y/N), you have my heart,” Aaron admits breathlessly, arms wrapping around you tighter. “I know it’s wrong for many reasons, but you made my heart beat again. You love Jack and you’re wonderful with him. He loves you. I love you. You take care of me even though you don’t have to, you are the most amazing person. You’re perfect for Jack and me.”

“You have my heart too, I love you too,” you grip his chin and pull him in for another kiss. “You and Jack are everything to me, I finally feel like I belong somewhere, here with the two of you. I never want to lose this, lose you.”

“You won’t,” he kisses you one more time before pulling away completely. “But you should probably go to your own room now, wouldn’t want you to get sick from sleeping with me tonight.”

“I was home with Jack all last week, I’m fine. Plus it’s probably better I stay in here and keep an eye on you,” he smirks, kissing you one last time before resting his head on your chest.  

The rest of the week is wonderful, Aaron still argues with you when you try to take care of him, but when Jack’s at school you two let the facade down. You cuddle with him and kiss him whenever you walk past him, making out on the couch like you’re two horny teenagers. Before you know it, it’s Sunday and Aaron is feeling better so he has to go into work in the morning. As the two of you say goodnight to Jack you start sneezing and the sniffling you’ve had all day rears its ugly head. 

“I told you not to sleep with me,” Aaron teases you after you close Jack's door, pulling you with him and back into his room.

“I’m fine,” your arguing falls short as you start sneezing again.

“I think the team can do without me for another case,” Aaron smiles as you slip into bed with him. “I need to be here to take care of you now.” Who would have thought the flu would be what finally got you two together?

[onlyfezco]

Happy New Year, Ma - Fezco

Summary: After Fez smashes Nate’s face in, you come over to help take care of his hand.

Fezco x Reader

Word Count: 1,330

Author’s Note: This started because I kept rewatching that scene of Fez beating Nate’s ass and I was turned on from it. Anybody else? No? Just me? Okay lol. Also, this should have been posted like January 2nd lol. My bad.

“What?”

“Let me in Ash.”

“What you doin’ here,” Ash question through the screen door. 

“I’m here to help,” you replied as you held up your mom’s first aid kit as proof.

Ashtray huffed then opened the screen door. 

“Where is he?”

Ash nodded his head in the direction for you to follow. “Kitchen.”

You made your way down the hallway already knowing your way around the O’Neil home. Once in the kitchen entryway, you saw Fez, closing the lid on a Tylenol bottle, his hand haphazardly wrapped in gauze. 

You sighed shaking your head at the sight. “Really, Fezco?”

Fez turned around to see your disappointed expression. His eyes trailed down your body to see you still in your New Year’s Eve dress, a long cream coat, heels still on, with a black bag in tow. 

“What you doing here? Go back to the party,” Fez said shaking his head, then walked pass you. 

“I’m here to clean up your hand.”

“Don’t need any help. Took care of it.”

“Like you took care of Nate,” you asked, annoyance in your voice. 

“You come over here just to tell me I messed up,” Fez asked, plopping down on the couch.

“No... seriously Fez. Let me help.”

Fez eyed you considering your offer. All he had to clean up his hand was water, soap, and gauze. “Fine.”

Relief filled your eyes, your lips turning up into a small smile. “Bathroom please.” You quickly took your coat off, dropping it on the couch before you turned, going down the hall knowing Fez would follow. You sat your mom’s first aid kit on the counter, taking out the supplies you would need. 

“Where you get all this from?”

“My mom’s cabinet. My house was only a few doors down from the party. I knew you wouldn’t have anything to take care of that,” you said, nodding your head towards his messed up hand. 

Fez put the toilet seat down then sat. You reached for his hand and began unwrapping his attempt to cover up his cuts.

His hand was bruised and still bleeding. Your face winced at the sight. “Oh Fez.”

Fez just sat there quietly not making eye contact with you. Nate deserved what he got, but he didn’t want to see the disappointment in your eyes. 

You noticed a tiny shard of glass still in his skin. “Did you even try to clean this up?”

“Not exactly a doctor over here.”

You rinsed his hand off in the sink then dried it off. Cleaned up the skin between the cuts with some alcohol. You put a little Neosporin on the cuts to help them heal. For just a moment, you held his hand looking at the cuts and bruises. Your thumb moving back and forth over his enact skin. 

Pulling out a bandage to began wrapping up his hand, you broke the silence. “Why’d you do it, Fez? I know Nate Jacobs is an ass and I don’t doubt he deserve it, but... why at a party in front of everyone?”

Fez was quiet for a moment. Just watching you wrap the bandage around hand and through his fingers. “Remember the raid I told you about?” You just nodded. “He tipped them off.”

Your face scrunched up, anger clouding your eyes. You didn’t question how Fez knew it was Nate. You believed him. If Fez and Ash wouldn’t have had time to flush all the drugs they had, Fez would be in jail, Ash would probably be in foster care, and their grandma sent to a home. The thought made your blood boil. You tried to put all your focus into carefully wrapping Fez’s hand. Not too tight so he could still feel his fingers, but tight enough to stop any bleeding or the bandage from falling off.

“But why at the party?”

“Rather me have pulled up to his house?”

You finished wrapping his hand then began putting up your things. “No, but... witnesses Fez. And that family has pull in this town. What’s to stop him from pressing charges?”

“He ain’t gonna do nothin’,” Fez replied confidently. 

“You don’t know that,” you said annoyed how easily he downplayed the situation. 

“Trust me, ma,” Fez said standing up, now looking down at you. “Nothin’s gonna happen. And if it does, that’s for me to worry ‘bout.”

You stared up into Fezco’s crystal blue eyes. You sucked your teeth then looked away. “Fine. Whatever.” Then you turned and zipped up your bag, completely over this night.

“I’m sorry.”

Anger turned to confusion, turning your head to face him. Your expression asking the question your lips didn’t have to say.

“For ruinin’ the start to your New Year. You should be at that party with your friends. Not here with me.”

You reached out for his good hand. “You are my friend, Fez. I’m right where I’m supposed to be.”

“Nah, you were suppose to be takin’ a shot or kissin’ some guy. Not watching me punch Nate in the face.”

You chuckled. “Well, I don’t drink. I see how my friends get and somebody has to be the sober one. As for the kissing part... I’m kinda lackin’ in that department.”

Fezco was staring you down making you nervous. You began to drop his hand and look away, but he quickly picked it back up, lacing your fingers between his. You glanced down at your interlaced fingers, your cheeks growing hot. 

“That’s hard to believe,” Fez said. 

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you replied, “well, believe it.”

Both of you were silent just staring at one another. You could practically hear your heart beating in your chest. Fez was moving in closer to you and before your brain had time to process what was happening, his lips were hovering over yours.

Fez’s voice came out softer than you’ve ever heard it before, “Can I?”

You didn’t trust your mouth to speak properly so you settled on nodding your head. Fez took the leap and closed to small gap in between you two. His hand that was holding yours let go and came up to your neck, his thumb gently touching your cheek. 

He was being so sweet and tender with you, but you wanted more. You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him in closer to you, so now you were chest to chest. 

Fez was trying his best not to move his bandaged hand, but he couldn’t help himself. His other hand wrapped around your back, a moan leaving your lips. 

The two of you got lost in each other. You began to feel off balance a little, the two of you trying to get as close to each other as possible, you taking a step back. Then you felt your back hit the sink counter. Fezco yelped in pain, taking a step away from you, his hands leaving your body. 

Your hands shot up to your mouth, covering your lips. “Shit, I’m sorry,” you repeated over and over feeling guilty for his hand getting smashed between your backside and the hard counter top. 

“Nah,” Fez replied holding his hand tight to his chest. “Ain’t your fault.” His hand stung, the skin not under the bandage turning red. 

You grimaced at his hand making Fez feel bad that you were feeling bad because of him. 

“Hey,” he said catching your attention dropping his hand so you wouldn’t stare at it feeling guilty. Once you made eye contact with him, Fezco continued. “Happy New Year, ma.”

You smiled up at the ginger, your heart filling with joy. “Happy New Year, Fezco.” You watched the corners of his lips turn up into a small smile, his cheeks turning a light shade of red before you spoke again. “Let’s go put some ice on that hand of yours,” you said sweetly feeling bad for the extra pain he was in now. You grabbed his good hand then led him out the bathroom. 

[waywardxrhea]

stitches - a Matt Murdock one shot

pairing: Matt Murdock x nurse!reader (no use of y/n)

word count: 1.8k

you get home after an awful shift to find Matt on your couch in need of medical assistance.

content: fluff, angst, blood, stitches, mentions of car accidents/heart attacks/CPR/death, gn!reader

a/n: no, claire does not exist in this AU, you have taken that spot. go you with your bad self lol

(not my gif)

"Jesus, Matt, you scared me!" you scolded the man in black sitting on your couch with his hand held tight to his side. You took in his state and shrugged your backpack off of your shoulders to get started on tending to his latest injury. His face covering was strewn aside, a formality he had long since abandoned when he came to yours to get first aid, and you saw his eyebrows knit together in a grimace of pain. Even with pain written all over his face he still looked as handsome as ever, with his hair mussed and standing up in every which direction. You shook away those thoughts though as your tired brain remembered that he was injured and you shouldn’t be thinking like that in the first place…

Through gritted teeth, he still managed to be a smart-ass, telling you, "Maybe leave your window locked next time, and I wouldn't scare you."

"I leave it open for you," you replied shortly as you dug in your bag and began pulling out the supplies you needed. "I'd rather you not bleed out on the cold streets."

"So you'd rather me bleed out in the warmth of your apartment, huh?" he smarted off.

He sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth when you began squirting a saline flush onto the wound on his lower abdomen to clean it. "Sorry..." you whispered as you patted the wound dry before getting a better look at it. "Yeah, this one's gonna need stitches," you informed him, taking off your now blood-stained gloves to dig through your bag once more.

"When do they not?" he asked, a quiet chuckle leaving his mouth as he leaned his head back onto the headrest of the couch. Matt's brain was too focused on the feeling of pain from his wound that it barely registered that your usual witty banter was replaced with quiet and timid words that were barely louder than a whisper and in a shaking voice.

You worked in silence and focused on stitching Matt's wound as neatly as possible, but your hands began to shake as you remembered a patient you had earlier in the day who had a similar wound that ended up dying before your team could get him to the OR. "You okay?" Matt's voice interrupted your thoughts and you rapidly blinked the tears pricking the backs of your eyes away and took a deep breath to try and ground yourself once more. You didn't answer his question though, so after a few more stitches, he asked, "Hard day at work?"

Not trusting your voice, you simply nodded and continued stitching up his wound, willing the shaking in your hands to go away as you neared the end of the gash. When you finished, you covered the wound and got up to get Matt some pain medication. "Tylenol," you told him quietly as you gently coaxed his hand open and placed two pills in it, offering him a cool glass of water afterward.

"Thank you," he said before taking the medication and downing half of the glass. As you cleaned up everything, Matt finished the water and placed the glass down on the coffee table, telling you gently, "Go change into something more comfortable and we can talk, yeah?"

You nodded and slipped away into your bedroom, taking off the surgical scrubs you had changed into after taking a shower in the hospital locker room. Tossing the scrubs aside, you put on an oversized t-shirt and pajama pants, blowing out a sigh of relief as you finally felt like you were off the job.

You looked toward a bag you had tossed into the corner of your bedroom a few weeks before and hesitated for a moment before grabbing the contents and heading back out into the living room. "What do you have there?" Matt asked, an eyebrow raising into his forehead as you walked quietly into the living area.

"Clean clothes for you if you want," you replied quietly, regret instantly flooding your body at the gesture. Not even a moment later, you closed your eyes that now had tears building once again, saying, "I- That's probably crossing a line, I'm sorry, I-"

"Thank you," he said, interrupting your babbling and standing up to make his way over to you. "Bathroom second door on the right?" he asked as he took the clothes from your hands.

"Y-yeah," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper as you watched him make his way into the room to change.

When he returned and sat back on the couch, he gestured to you expectantly and said, "C'mere." You sat beside him on the couch and were shocked when he fluidly pulled you closer and in between his legs as he leaned back onto the arm rest, telling you, "You're so tense..."

You could feel your heart leap into your throat in response to his proximity, but felt yourself instantly relax when his strong hands began massaging the tense muscles in your shoulders. His skilled hands knew exactly where you held the most tension. Of course he did... With the physical relief running through your body, you out a shaky sigh and felt the floodgates open as you suddenly couldn't hold back your tears anymore. Memories of what happened during your shift ran through your mind and you couldn't seem to get them to stop their assault on your mind.

You thought that would cause Matt to stop his ministrations, but instead he continued on and didn't say a word, just letting you cry it out. He would never admit this to you, but there were some nights when he went out that even if he was injured like he was tonight, if he heard you crying after you came home from a shift at the hospital he would give you your space. He knew you prized yourself on keeping calm in the face of chaos and didn't like expressing your emotions so openly, so he never wanted to pry on your private moments. Tonight felt different though. So he just massaged your shoulders until your tears began to slow and you whispered a shaky, "Thank you..."

"You're welcome," Matt replied, slowing to a stop when he was sure all of the tension was out of your shoulders. "Do you want to talk about it now?"

There was a moment of hesitation from you, but finally you nodded, telling him, "We lost a couple of patients today..." You took a deep and shaky breath once more before telling him, "One of mine coded with a massive heart attack... I pounded on his chest for probably a total of ten minutes trying to get him back but..." You stopped and covered your mouth as a choked sob escaped. "It wasn't good enough..."

You took a few deep breaths before telling the second story. "Then someone got into a car accident and got a huge gash in his abdomen... He was losing so much blood and we...we couldn't even get him to the OR before he died... He was so young... He had so much to live for... Wanted to be a police officer, but now..."

You dissolved into tears once more at the memory of the young man's blank eyes staring up at you as you helped pronounce him dead and you felt Matt pull you closer into his arms, mumbling into your hair, "It's okay. Let it out. I'm right here..." He allowed you a few moments before telling you, "You did the best you could. I know you did. That's all you can do."

A few minutes passed of you crying onto Matt's chest as he held you close and ran a comforting hand up and down your upper arm before he mumbled, "You're dehydrated..."

"I didn't drink much today..." you confessed quietly.

"Much or at all?" he asked, shifting his weight so he could get up to get you some water. When you didn't respond, he sternly said your name with concern in his tone.

"When I work I care more about my patients than myself, you know that..." you said.

"And as a healthcare professional you know the importance of drinking water, especially when you're on your feet running around for hours," he said, gently untangling himself from you and getting up, the pain already less evident in his body language as he navigated toward the cabinet to grab a glass.

"You're one to talk Mr. Devil of Hell's Kitchen," you told him, a huff of a laugh leaving your chest. "Wasn't it just last week I was telling you to hydrate?"

"I believe your exact words were 'Hydrate or die-drate, Matthew,'" he replied with a quiet chuckle, happy to hear that your snarky remarks were starting to return after your cry. As he filled the glass from the filtered tap, he asked, "You didn't eat either did you?"

"No..." you whispered. He chastised you once again by calling your name out and you shrunk into the couch as you said, "It was just so busy is all and when I was finally able to sit, the shift was over and I had so many charts to catch up on..."

"I'm ordering food," he said as he sat back down beside you on the couch and thrusted the glass of water into your hands.

"With what money? You don't carry your wallet with you when you go out. That would sorta defeat the whole mystery man thing," you said, a small smirk on your lips before you took a sip of the water, the cool liquid soothing your aching throat.

"Then how about I owe you one? Friday night at the Italian place down the block?" You nearly choked on the sip of water you were working on at the comment he made so casually, having to wipe the excess off of your chin as you looked at him with wide eyes. He had a self-satisfied smirk on his face as he added, "As in a date."

"A...date? Matt, are you sure?" you asked in a hushed tone as you placed the glass on the coffee table to stop from spilling it with your shaking.

"Yes," he said as he wrapped you in his arms once more. "I think we both know we've been past the point of this being a strictly professional relationship for a while," he said before almost hesitantly leaning down to place his lips on your temple in a gentle kiss.

"I'm glad you said something," you said before turning your head up toward him and kissing his cheek. "I was afraid of messing things up..."

"You don't have to be afraid around me," he said, a sweet smile gracing his features.

"I know..." you replied bashfully as his stare focused on your chest, more specifically your heart. "Thank you for everything, Matt... It means the world."

"You mean the world to me," he said, that cocky smirk returning once more. Rolling your eyes, you leaned up and wiped it off of his lips by placing a gentle kiss on them, shocking him for a moment before he relaxed into the kiss, his soft lips melting perfectly onto yours. Perhaps you were grateful for that dreadful shift after all...

likes and comments are appreciated! <3

[crazyoffher]

WATCHTOWER. - 2

jenna ortega x fem!reader

summary: the same late-night visitor meets with you once again, this time with a goal in mind.

warnings: unedited. somewhat long, which i'm very sorry for i just love attention-to-detail sometimes.

word count: 2600+

part one part three

Scandal was playing on the TV, but you weren’t paying attention to what was happening — not that it mattered because you replayed the show so much you could name an episode's events off the top of your head. It was a rather chilly Thursday night for springtime, and you lay on the couch all sprawled around with a massive headache and a runny nose. 

You had allergies, and they acted up harsher than usual, causing you to take the entire week off of work. You wanted to stay around in case Jenna came in that week, but you felt like fainting the first Monday, and you had been told to go home by your manager, Derek.

You were mindlessly scrolling through your phone, looking through Jenna’s entire Instagram your feed, when you were interrupted by a caller screen. It was your regular closing buddy, Jack, calling. 

“I told you, the cleaning supplies are stocked under the boxes on the shelf next to the cooler.” You sighed, assuming that he was calling because he couldn’t remember the location of where you put the items. 

“No, bro, it’s not that.” He practically screamed into the phone, erupting a groan out of you. “Keep your voice low; I have a massive fucking headache.” 

“Well, I'm sorry that I can’t contain my emotions after just dealing with Jenna Ortega, who was looking for you.” That got you to sit upright. You have to be fucking kidding me.

You sighed heavily. “You can’t be serious! Ugh.”

“What? You were expecting her? God, I hate when you keep exciting secrets from me (Y/N), like when you literally served Zendaya and I had to sit and gawk at you when you were telling me you and her had a conversation!”

Rubbing your eyeballs, you put the phone on speaker as you pulled yourself up, turning to clean up the mess of tissues and plates that had accumulated over the past two days. “What did you say to her?”

“I told her that you work Monday, Thursday, and Saturday every week, but that you’d be gone the rest of the week because you were sick. When the fuck did you meet her?” You loaded the tissues (and empty ice-cream pint) into the trash and set the plates into the sink, saying, “Two weeks ago, when you decided to do the easiest job on Earth and leave me to do all of the cleanup work, you assface.”

“Man, you better be good by Monday because she looked pretty down when I told her you weren’t here.” You sighed at that; it only made your hatred for your pollen allergy worsen. “And she told me she’d be back on Monday if she wasn’t too busy that day.”

“I’ll take this as a sign to actually start taking my antibiotics.” You filled a cup with water, grabbing a Tylenol pill for your headache. “Why haven’t you been taking them in the first place?”

“So I’d have an excuse to take more than four days off. You just have to hate working at a Michelin star that celebrities love to raid sometimes.” You downed the pill, or more so, tried to, as it came back up, making you cough.

“Yeah, well, you tell that to Marissa, who’s been covering your days. She looks like she’s on the edge of a breakdown constantly.”

You attempted to swallow the pill again, this time successfully, as you downed the entire glass of water before placing it in the sink, joining the dirty plates. “Well, she’d be more accustomed to it if she didn’t decide to work only once a week and constantly coax me for a share of my tips. Now go back to cleaning up.”

Leaning against the counter of your kitchen, you hung up the phone, saying your goodbyes to Jack. Couldn't she have come around next week?

On Monday, you returned. In your nice suitwear, you made sure to groom yourself extra well in the morning in case Jenna did make her return to you that day, and she did…not.

To say you were disappointed was an understatement; you even stayed out five minutes past twelve to see if she’d walk in, but to no avail. Closing the doors to the restaurant with Jack, you took each step to your car with a form of anger.

“Are you alr-”

“You said she was going to come today!” You huffed. He shrugged, choosing the right words to reply to you; otherwise, you’d go insane.

“If she wasn’t too busy, she said. She probably just had an overwhelming day.” He assured you, but you weren’t necessarily in a positive mood. You mimicked him, putting your hands on your face and rubbing your eyes.

“Or she just didn’t want to see me. She probably saw that I wasn’t there and was like, “Oh, well, fuck that girl then.” Ugh, I hate sickness.” Sneezing right after your sentence, Jack shuffled away from you slightly before climbing into your passenger seat when you unlocked your car.

You had promised to give him a ride because his car’s engine sounded off and he didn’t want to take it to work. “I call the music!”

“It's my car, asshole.” You jumped into the driver's seat without fighting Jack for the Bluetooth, as he had already been connected. “All I’m saying is, you shouldn’t worry. Celebrities, especially rising ones like her, are always busier than we are. Plus, you’re not all that special; I know I wouldn’t willingly go to a restaurant to see you at midnight when I’m a second away from passing out from tiredness.”

You shoved him, one hand on the wheel, as you rolled out of the parking lot and onto the immediate freeway. “And you’re so amazing?”

“I’m perfect, thank you very much.” 

It took you about thirty minutes to drop off Jack at his apartment, seeing that it was in a different town, and he made you stop at a gas station for a bag of Munchies. As soon as you fell onto your bed, you were out like a light.

When Thursday came around, you weren’t so optimistic about Jenna showing up. Actually, you debated calling out just because you didn’t feel like working that day, but you knew that your request would probably get declined because it was last-minute and it wasn’t for an emergency, so you got ready.

To your surprise, the day was calm. There were only about two well-known celebrities, and they were enthusiastically nice to you and tipped generously, leaving Jack to complain about your tips for the day, considering that he had almost half less and had a drink thrown on him by a TikTok influencer.

“Why do you always get the nicer tables with big tips while I get stuck with cows who try using their “influence” to get out of paying for their seven-fifty ($750) dollar meal?” He huffed, pretending to be busy because he was currently dealing with — actually, not even a D-lister, just somebody who was in the background of a Marvel movie in 2015.

Meanwhile, you were on your thirty minute break, munching on a burrito you had bought before walking into work that morning. “Because I’m nice and charismatic, even to those that throw their food on my clothes. You, on the other hand, have no charisma at all, and you purposefully set a bitchy tone whenever someone’s mean to you. Nobody’s tipping a man who looks to be on the verge of throwing them onto the highway.”

“Well-”

“Carlile!” Derek called out Jack’s name — or technically, last name, “Back to work, there’s a girl that came in, I’m thinking B-list but on her way to the A-list.”

“I’m dealing with some background extra right now!” He called out, buttoning up his vest he had unbuttoned earlier to breathe, and Derek came into the back where you guys were. “They wanted to leave, so Harvey gave them their check and took your tip from them while he was at it, so go and serve the girl!”

Derek left, and Jack huffed. “God, I hate that fucker. I’m getting that tip back.” And with that, he disappeared as well, anger evident in his step. You just laughed at him, twenty minutes left on your break as you laid back on the chair, tearing up the bulky burrito.

Not even five minutes later, Jack came rushing in, sweat beads on his forehead as he had a large smile on his face. “Guess who’s here.”

“Mmm, by the way you’re smiling, I’d say Spencer Charnas.”

“No, dumbass! Jenna’s here.” You coughed, choking up the burrito chunk you tried to swallow. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.” Getting up, you viewed yourself in the mirror. Your hair was messed up, tie in disarray, and your shirt sleeves slightly wrinkled from having them rolled up. You were not looking sharp.

“Yes, I told her that I’d switch her table over to you after getting her the drinks she and her — might I say, massive bodyguards, ordered. So go!”

He ushered you out of the backroom, hands on your tie fixing it into place and undoing your sleeves, fixing them down to your wrist. “I thought she was gonna come after we closed, like how she did before.”

“I guess she couldn’t wait to see you, buddy. Now you go and get your first girlfriend, yeah?” He patted your back, and you slapped him on the arm before heading into the dining section. Luckily, she was sat at the edge of a window where there was an empty walkway to her table, avoiding you of any interruptions by surrounding customers.

“What would you like to get started with?” You adjusted your vest, not making eye contact with Jenna just yet. Any observant person could tell you were nervous. “Well, hello to you too.”

You looked up, meeting her eyes and smiling. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there last Thursday, got a little sick and thought it was best to not infect everyone, especially you.” 

“It’s fine. Oh, and here.” She reached into the bag sat next to her, pulling out the book before handing it over to you, urging you to take it due to the weight of it. “Thank you. I didn’t expect you to finish so early, you said you’re busy constantly, after all.”

“I read it on the days I wasn’t all too busy, mostly on the way to meetings and in my trailer on set.” Jenna shrugged it off, adding, “And you were right, it’s a really good book.”

“Well, if you ever need any more book suggestions, I’m here. You want to get something to eat, or do you want me to come back in a bit?”

“Mmm, give me like five minutes, yeah?” She flashed you a smile that you dumbly nodded at, turning on your heel and heading into the kitchen, meeting Jack halfway there and you practically jumped on him.

“Someone’s giddy.”

“Oh, shut up. She’s making me nervous, Jack, she keeps eye contact — do you know what it’s like to hold eye contact with a pretty girl?”

“I’m assuming it’s nervewracking.”

“Oh right, I forgot. You can’t talk to girls.” You put his hand on his shoulder, sending him a fake sympathetic smile that he glared at.

“So, when are you asking her out?” Jack grabbed a couple plates, presumably for the table he was serving and you just laughed, causing him to send you a look.

You stopped upon seeing his confused glare. “Oh, you’re not joking. She doesn’t like me, I think I’d know if a girl likes me.”

“But, you wouldn’t. You’ve never had a girlfriend in your life, despite your many talking stages, all of which were online. You’re not experienced in body language, bud. Go out there and take her order, and see how it goes from there.” Leaving you standing in the busy kitchen, you thought about it.

Taking advice from Jack wasn’t the best idea, though. He dated a catfish for five months, for fuck's sake. 

Walking back into the main room, you walked over to the shelf and put the bulky navy-colored book back in it’s former place, shifting some books to slot it in. Eyeing Jenna’s table, you saw how she sat there, hands clasped together, talking to her bodyguards.

“You ready now?” You walked up to the table, hands together behind your back, and gave her a small smile.

“Yeah, I’ll have,” Jenna re-opened the menu, pinpointing her option as “Lobster ravioli with Mascovy duck breast, whatever that is.” She laughed slightly, a smile still etched on your face, and said, “And…a date with you.” She spoke lowly, as if she were purposefully lowering her voice so you couldn’t hear her.

“And a what? Sorry.” You apologized, leaning in slightly closer to hear. “A…chance to hang out with you, if you’re up for that. Other people, like friends, can be there too, of course.”

Your mouth gaped open, and the longer you took to answer, the more anxious Jenna became.

"Definitely, yeah, sure.” You managed to get out, nodding your head extensively, and Jenna’s anxiousness faded. 

You got her bodyguard's order as well, practically running to the kitchen to give your paper to a chef before scanning for Jack and watching him eat a lobster that one of the cooks seemed to have prepared for his break time. “Did you ask her out?”

“No, but she asked me to hang out with her.” To your words, Jack shot one hand up and mumbled something that you couldn’t recognize, lobster in his mouth.

“She practically wants you.” He repeated, this time more recognizable. “Yeah, yeah.” You waved him off, pacing around with your hands glued together, thinking. 

“No, think about it.” Jack set his plate down, swallowing the last bits of his lobster. “She’s busy, right? She’s got like five thousand movies coming out this year and next year, which means that she’d be making time through her busy schedule to be with you! She likes you a lot.”

You stopped, your hands transferring over to your hips. You eyed him, skeptical at first, before sighing. “You think so?”

Jack nodded. “Definitely, go get her tiger.” He pushed you away, hearing the sound of your name being called along with four plates being set off to the side.

You took the plates, setting them on a tray before balancing it on your hand, suddenly a lot more paranoid about dropping them than you’ve ever been. “Here you go.”

Bringing the tray into both your hands, you set the plates aside one by one before tucking it under your arm. “If you guys need anything else, just call me over.”

“Well,” Jenna’s voice stopped you from walking away, “In order for me to see you again, I’d need your number.”

“Right!” You said rather enthusiastically, taking her phone that she held out and typing your number in, sending her one last smile before retreating back into the kitchen.

Sadly, that was the last time you saw her that day because Harvey decided to steal your table, as he did to Jack earlier, to try and capture your tip.

“(Y/N).” Derek called out for you, walking into the room to catch you wiping up tables. “That girl you served earlier, the one that Harvey stole, told me to give your tip to you. She definitely caught on to him.” He laughed, handing you a stack of money before waving goodbye.

You gawked at the amount, five-hundred dollars as a tip was probably the biggest you ever got, and it was from a girl who, besides you, took an interest in you that she was sure to soon act on.

☟ ☟ ☟

i feel like part one was written remotely better than this part, but regardless, i hope you enjoy this :)

[sturniololoco]

Big Game pt 3

SLS x Nathan Doe

warnings: suggestive, bruising, language, etc.

Nate’s POV

I think I'm dreaming.

How was I lying in the backseat of my best friend's car, lying across their backseat, with my head in the lap of their sister?

It felt too good.

"Nick, would you mind sitting in the way back please?" SLS/N asked her older brother, batting her eyelashes.

He rolled his eyes and grumbled "Fine" before climbing in the back.

After Matt started driving, she pulled on my sleeve, pulling me towards her, till my head was in her lap.

She took my ice pack from my hands and placed it gently on my nose. My eyes fluttered shut as she began mindlessly playing with my hair using her other hand.

"Damn, Nates getting princess treatment," Chris said, reaching back from the front seat and playfully poking me in the ribs.

Before I could react, SLS/N slapped him and away, saying,

"Hush, Chris. He's tired."

Chris looked at her with a look of shock. He placed the back of his hand on his forehead dramatically.

"I'm a little tired too you know!" He said.

"Well, I don't think you're the one with a broken nose Christopher!" She said to her brother, raising her voice ever so slightly.

That shut him up.

-

The car ride consisted of me falling in and out of sleep, still lying across SLS/N's lap. At one point, I was so tired, I felt myself turn to my side to get more comfortable.

I ended up turning my face right into her lower stomach, sighing happily.

Her fingers hesitated and she sat up a little. At first, I thought I overstepped, and just as I was about to get up, she relaxed a little and continued playing with my hair till we got home.

-

Once we were about five minutes away from my house, SLS/N" woke me up.

"Is your mom back from her business trip or are you gonna be home alone?" She asks me.

She remembered. I told her this weeks ago.

"I-uh...no, it's just me," I say, groggily, before closing my eyes again.

"Nick, can I stay over and make sure he's okay? You guys have a car video to film anyway." I hear her ask her older brother.

Just as I am about to tell her that I'm fine and she doesn't need to baby me, her brother replies with a yes, and we pull into my driveway.

-

Once inside, I threw my gear and hockey stick onto the floor and collapsed on the couch, grabbing the remote and flicking the TV on.

I hear SLS/N rummaging around in the kitchen before coming into the living room with a fresh ice pack and a Tylenol.

"You know, you really didn't have to do this," I say, taking the medicine from her and swallowing it dry.

"I know. But I wanted to." She says, looking down at her sweater paws in her lap. I see her cheeks heat up and I smile to myself, looking at how cute she is.

Feeling brave, I pull her to me in a half-hug snuggle. She leans onto my chest, relaxing. She must be tired too, after having a long school day, watching two games in the cold, then taking care of me.

we stay like this, watching a random movie that came on.

But then things changed.

She started mindlessly tracing shapes on the inside of my upper thigh. I could feel the heat rising on my cheeks as I got a feeling in my lower abdomen.

as she moves her hand up, I quickly stand up. She looks at me surprised. I flick the TV off and toss the remote onto the table.

"It's getting late. Imma go shower and then probably hop in bed. You can borrow any clothes you'd like out of my drawer, you know where my room is." I say quickly.

And with that, I run up the stairs to my bathroom.

-

When I get to my bathroom and shut the door, I can feel my pants grow tighter in the front. I quickly take them off, revealing the large balge in my boxers.

"Fuck. I cannot believe this is happening." I mumble under my breath. I then hop in the shower, hoping it will sort out by itself.

I was wrong.

I get out of the shower, not surprised by the obvious tent in my pants, even with boxers and sweats on. I sigh, opening my bathroom door and going into my room.

what I saw when I got in there, did not help my current situation.

SLS/N was lying on my bed in one of my T-shirts and a pair of my boxers. She looks up at me, smiling. She then looks down and notices my current...situation.

"what have we got here?" She says, giving me a little smirk. I look down bashfully, my cheeks turning pink again.

"c'mere Nate." I hear her say. Just the way she says my name makes me painfully harder.

I walk over to her and stand between her legs. She looks me up and down before fiddling with the strings of my sweatpants.

"Do you want some help with that?" She asks me. without thinking, I nod my head frantically.

"Well you did play very well in your game today, I think you deserve it."

And with that comment, I'm no longer shy.

I give her a devilish smile, pushing her chest till she's lying back on the bed. I pin her arms above her head and climb on top of her.

-

hehe cliff hanger

@idkwhosnyla @babypat08 @eyelessdemon00 @christopherowensturniolo @sturnsxx @freshloveforthefit @matty443355 @sleepysturnss @emeraldgreenbeautiesstu @sunsetsturniolos @hoesturniolo @x4nd3rsukz @chr1sgirl4life @sstvrnioloo @sturns-posts @chrisstopherfilmed @kylasrealityx @zoeysturnioloooooo @comet235 @islaasblog @sturnioloblogs @defnotayonna @mattsleftnipple03 @thematthewlover

[heavyhitterheaux]

A fluffy request I can think of is something where jack tells reader ‘ur kisses taste like heaven’ 🥹🥹

Has a sprinkle of angst involved, but mostly fluff!

It was your first night at home after being released from the hospital and Jack had been on edge. He kept watching you like a hawk and barely left your side. The only time that you were able to have a moment to yourself was if you escaped to the bathroom for a few minutes. But all in all, you couldn't blame him.

You died in front of him twice and that had been his biggest wake up call. Knowing that at that point he was so close to losing you and losing you forever, he vowed to make sure every single day that the two of you had left on earth, he would make sure you knew how much he loved you.

The two of you had been downstairs for the majority of the day and when 10 PM rolled around, you found that your eyes were getting heavy and thought that making your way upstairs was probably a good idea.

As soon as you moved, Jack jumped up right behind you.

“Are you okay? You need anything?”

“No, babe. I'm okay, just getting a little tired. I just want to lay down.”

“Okay, I got the bed all ready for you.”

“Sounds good. I'll probably take a shower first.” You replied as you put your hair up into a ponytail.

“Should you be standing up that long? Do you need me to help you?”

Knowing that it would probably make Jack feel safer and you as well, you quickly agreed.

“Could you just sit in the bathroom with me so I won't be by myself?” You asked as you looked up at Jack and wrapped your arms around him.

“Of course, baby. Anything to keep you safe.”

As promised, Jack stayed with you the entire time in the bathroom as you took a quick shower. It felt good to be back in your own house and in your own bathroom with familiar territory surrounding you.

As you stepped out, he immediately handed you a towel and helped you dry off, making sure to pay close attention to your incision and making sure he was extra careful.

“Does it still hurt?” He quietly asked as he was slowly wiping away the water droplets surrounding it.

“Not as much anymore. They told me to take Tylenol if it does.”

After putting on lotion and Jack getting you a fresh set of pajamas, he helped you get settled in the bed before making his way to the other side and laying down next to you.

You immediately cuddled into him and he quickly embraced you and kissed the top of your head.

“You have no idea how much I missed this and missed you.” You quietly confessed as Jack rubbed small circles along your back.

“Right back at you.”

“It feels weird to have a somewhat flat stomach and no children in the house.”

“Soon enough, baby. They just need to get stronger and all three of them will be home before we know it.”

You started playing with Jack's beard and he simply closed his eyes as you two held onto each other.

Lifting your head, you lightly kissed him as he eagerly kissed you back. Jack cupped your face with his left hand and gave you a few more kisses before pulling away from you. He rested his forehead against yours as the two of you laid in a comfortable silence for a few moments.

“Your kisses taste like heaven.” You quietly said as a few tears slipped out and Jack was quick to kiss them away.

“I didn't know if I would ever be able to feel your lips against mine again. You know how much I love you and I'm sorry if I ever took you being my wife for granted.”

“Baby, I'm okay. Promise. They wouldn't have let me leave the hospital if I wasn't. And I love you more.” You told him because at this point, the both of you were in an upset state.

“I know but I'm still going to worry about you. I mean, you're my wife. How can I not?”

“But you know if it was left up to me that I wasn't going to leave you or them.”

“With your stubborn ass, I know.” Jack replied as you both laughed.

“I'll let that slide one time and one time only. But give me more kisses so I can sleep.”

Jack granted your wish as he gave you several more before you laid your head on his chest hoping to fall into a deep sleep.

Once Jack heard your breathing slow down, he still kept an eye on you making sure that you were okay.

He finally fell asleep around two in the morning, but was jolted back awake around four. Looking down and making sure you were okay, he slipped out from the bed and made his way into the bathroom splashing water on his face and peered in the mirror.

In a whispered breath, he muttered “fuck.”

His nightmares had returned.

[poorlywrittenbutentertaining]

Caring for a Duckling

Gibbs x Fem!oc

warnings: medical stuff, and boats... i guess?

summary: Gibbs is volunteered to care for Elaine after her concussion.

The sun splotched across Elaine’s face as her brain pulsated in her skull, splitting pains shooting down her spine. She attempted to open her eyes only to be met by a fresh spike of pain in the back of her head. She squinted against the light and tried to focus on her unfamiliar surroundings. The sheets she layed under were not her usual bamboo thread, but a homely, soft, cotton. The room she was in was unfamiliar. It was scarcely decorated, with what looked like quality, hand built furniture. She pulled the sheets from her body and looked down to find herself not in her scrubs, but a large, worn tee shirt and a pair of far oversized basketball shorts. Her brain scrambled to remember the events of the previous night, but it was like trying to collect water in a sieve.

Memory came in short, blurry flashes. A red hoodie here, a gurney there, and an old truck. Like watching a brief slideshow of her own evening. She didn’t remember drinking, let alone leaving her apartment. She rubbed her forehead, to be met with the soft scratch of gauze. Right, she had been hit in the head, hard. She began running a mental checklist.

Pain: moderately high

Memory loss sustained

Blunt force wound to the back of the head

Vision mildly blurry 

Delirium: no

Nausea: mild 

She sighed and looked out the window. She was greeted with a view of a small, well maintained garden. A face flashed through her head. Gibbs. She had been on the phone with him and he had been there when she woke up.

The door creaked lightly on its hinges and Elaine twisted towards the sound. Gibbs stood in the threshold holding a tall glass of water and some medicine.

“I was gonna leave these, but I guess you’re awake,” Gibbs said, “how are you feeling?”

“Bad,” Elaine answered honestly. Gibbs nodded and entered the room. He walked by her and placed the items on the carved bedside table, “you came to my house.”

“I did. I heard some commotion and came to check,” Gibbs shrugged.

“How did you get in?” Elaine asked.

“Same way the petty officer did. He broke your lock.”

“Oh…” At that moment something Dawned on Elaine, “did you change my clothes?!”

Gibbs chuckled, “no, you woke up and raided my closet before passing out again.”

“Ah,” Elaine nodded. She leaned her head into her hands and let out a long sigh, “what a nightmare.”

“Here, take these,” Gibbs held the pills and water in front of her, “it’ll help the pain.”

Elaine took the medicine, “I’m a doctor, gunny, I know what Tylenol does.” She quickly swallowed the pills dry and then took a few long gulps of the water. Gibbs gave a half smile and nodded.

“S’pose you do, doc.”

“Well I’m fine now, you can take me home,” Elaine moved to stand, ignoring the pounding in her head.

“Na-ah-ah,” Gibbs grabbed her upper arm, “I told Ducky I’d watch you today.”

“I’m a doctor, I can take care of myself.”

“Notorious fact that doctors make the worst patients.”

“And how would you know that, Gunny?” Elaine sassed.

“Because Ducky said so,” Gibbs' voice was even, he moved in close to her and Elaine felt her heart stammer for a moment, “now lay down.”

“Fine, fine,” Elaine put her hands up. Jethro released her arm and lifted the sheets for her, “I can get myself into bed.”

“I know.” 

Elaine rolled her eyes and scooted in, allowing him to fluff the sheets over her. She had to admit, the bed was nice.

~~~

The house had been quiet for a few hours and Elaine felt like she was going stir crazy. She slid herself out of the bed and began looking closer around the room. The furniture seemed unused, and if the fresh scent of laundry detergent was anything to go off of, Gibbs had probably retrieved her fresh sheets and blankets for the bed. There were no paintings or pictures on the walls, and while the decorations and furnishings were scarce they all held the signs of being homemade. Some from mismatched woods, others with intricate carvings. Elaine ran her hand over the dresser and slid open the top drawer. An assortment of linens, seemingly random. She closed the drawer and walked to the door, slowly turning the handle and cracking the door open with nary a squeak.

“Well oiled,” Elaine noted as she peeked down the hall. There were a few other doors, but what interested Elaine was the staircase down at the end of the hall. She padded down them quickly to be met with a much more open space. It was more decorated, the ghost of a woman’s touch fleeting in the details. A stack of coasters here, a small lamp there. Elaine smiled as she moved around the living space. It was clean, if not a little dated. There were books around the fireplace and a large TV hanging over the hearth. The leather couch was particularly worn on one cushion. The coffee table in front of it had a ring from a cup being placed over and over again. Elaine could imagine Gibbs sitting to watch TV in the same place every night, setting his cup on the edge of the coffee table.

While the space was inviting, it felt lonely. Like the ghost of Jethro would occasionally pass through the space, a specter in his own home. 

Elaine’s ears picked up a small scratching sound coming from an open door. She peeked through, finding the entrance to a basement. The scratching echoes through the cement room, a small amount of light being let in from the high windows. She approached the railing and peeked over, finding the boning of a wooden boat, and Gibbs dutifully sanding at one of the timber boards. The railing creaked under her weight.

“You should be laying down,” Gibbs said, the sanding stopped as he glanced up at her. Elaine simply shrugged and padded down the wooden stairs. Gibbs rolled his eyes and resumed his work.

“You build boats?” Elaine asked. Gibbs just nodded towards the wooden structure, “You know they make those automatic now.”

“Don’t use power tools,” Gibbs dusted the piece he was working on and resumed sanding.

“Really? None?” Elaine meandered to the workbench and took in the neatly organized tools. A series of manual drills, chisels, hammers, sanding blocks, and other woodworking tools Elaine didn’t recognize.

“Nope.”

Elaine peeked into his mug to find an amber liquid, she lifted it to her nose and sniffed. The scent burned in her nose and she cougehed, “bourbon?”

“It’s an acquired taste,” Gibbs said.

“That’s code for, ‘it’s gross until you get used to it’,” Elaine gave him a cheeky grin over her shoulder as she continued looking around the basement, “Got anymore sandpaper?”

“You should be resting, Dr. Wright,” Gibbs turned to her.

“I’m bored and something deep inside me tells me that I can handle some sandpaper after bumping my head,” Elaine leaned back against the workbench. Gibbs let out a sigh and held the sandpaper out to her. She grinned and took it, stepping around him and approaching the boat. She began sanding side to side and gibbs quickly stopped her, placing his hand firmly over hers and then guiding it up and down.

“With the grain of the wood,” He said. Elaine swallowed and peeked at him out of the corner of her eye.

“Right,” She nodded. His hand pulled away as he returned to the workbench.

Elaine spent the rest of the day practically tailing Gibbs until he placed a book firmly in her hands and had her sit down on the couch with an order to rest for the remainder of the day. It wasn’t long until she fell asleep.

~~~

Gibbs peeked out of the kitchen to find Elaine curled up on the couch. She laid in the worn spot he usually sat in. He sighed and shook his head. He grabbed a blanket from the closet and flicked it open. He laid it over Elaine and tucked it softly around her. He took the book from her hands and noted the page she was on before returning it to its place on the shelf.

His eyes flicked over to the front door when it creaked open. In the threshold stood Ducky, his coat draped over one arm and his briefcase in the other.

“I believe you are housing a little duckling, I’m here to take her home.”

(enjoyed it? Let me know what scenarios/episodes you want to see from Elaine and Gibbs next!)

[wordsbyrian]

First Skateboard - Alex Morgan x Reader

Summary: A sequel to "Skater Girl" in which R (a professional skateboarder) gets a skateboard for Charlie.

A/N: I actually had the idea for this before the idea for Skater Girl but I felt like I had to write that one first. Yeah, enjoy. Also, all mentioned skateboarders are real people except the photographer.

Ever since you reconnected with Alex a few years ago, life has been going pretty well for you. On both a personal and professional level.

Professionally, you’ve dropped some of your best video parts ever, you brought home a couple of X Games, SLS, and Dew Tour medals and you backside-flipped El Toro before they tore it down.

In your personal life, you and Alex got married a few years ago and have since had a daughter Charlie.

Plus, you haven’t even been tempted to break your sobriety since that day you saw Alex at the bottom of the hill.

Good things all around.

And they were only going to get better because Reynolds, your close friend and the man in charge of Baker skateboards, called last week and told you to expect a surprise with your next board and merch delivery.

A delivery which just arrived.

Flinging the front food open, you shout thanks to the mailman before grabbing both boxes and heading inside, the door slamming shut behind you.

Normally, all of your sponsorship deliveries get taken directly to either your car, for immediate use or to your “skate cave” (the garage) to be out of the way until you need them.

This time you carry them straight to the living room, where Alex and Charlie are hanging out.

“Hey Chuck,” you say, getting the attention of both your wife and daughter, “Uncle Andrew sent you a present.”

“Present?”

“Yea, little dude,” you confirm, setting both boxes down, “a present.”

As Charlie walks to you on slightly unsteady feet, you have to do your best to not laugh at the look on Alex’s face.

You know what she’s thinking, of course, the last time Reynolds sent you anything for Charlie, it was a baby dirt bike that was immediately banished to the garage.

Although, he’s assured you it's nothing that out there this time around.

Dropping to the ground beside the boxes, you shoot her what you hope is a reassuring smile before using a key to slice the tape and help Charlie open them.

When she does get the first open, you have to hold back another laugh because sitting on top of all the fresh merch is a bottle of Tylenol with the words “For Alex - Chill Pills” written on it.

Grabbing them before Charlie can, you toss them to their designated recipient.

“Looks like the Boss sent you something too, babe,” you say, carefully watching her face for any reaction.

It takes her a moment but eventually she just sighs deeply, putting the bottle somewhere Charlie can’t reach it, and speaks, “All of your friends are idiots, especially Reynolds.”

“I’ll make sure that I let him know you said that.”

Looking back down, you’re unsurprised to see Charlie already reaching into the box and pulling out some of the items.

It’s mostly shirts with the latest designs on them and you see a few packs of stickers and some hats in there as well.

Dropping one of the hats on the toddler’s head so that it covers her eyes, you hurriedly hide the stickers, sliding them underneath your leg. The last thing you want is for Alex to be mad because you let Charlie put one somewhere it shouldn’t go.

By the time she removes the hat, all stickers are out of sight and you’re already opening the box containing the decks.

Once it’s open you see exactly what Reynolds was talking about.

There sitting on top of the boards that you know are for you, is what has to be the smallest skateboard you have ever seen.

Smiling softly, you pass it to Charlie who immediately spins around to show Alex.

“Mommy,” she shouts, “Look what Uncle Andrew got me.”

The smile on Alex’s face is forced but she hides it well enough that Charlie can’t tell.

“That’s so cool, baby,” Alex says, “Why don’t you go put it in your room with your other toys.”

It takes a moment but Charlie does eventually run off to put the board away. You and Alex both stare after her silently waiting to see if she comes running back or if she gets distracted like she normally does.

When she doesn’t come rushing back, Alex immediately turns on you, face set in a hard glare.

“Seriously, Y/N,” she asks.

“What?”

“A skateboard? She’s not even three years old yet.”

“It’s just a board Alex, it’s perfectly safe,” you say calmly.

“You just got a cast taken off your arm last week.”

“That’s because I’m an idiot, Charlie isn’t going to be trying to drop in off roofs for a long time,” you try to explain, “Besides with me, Reynolds, and all the other guys, she’ll be perfectly safe.”

The look you get lets you know that your appeal isn’t working at all.

And if the look wasn’t enough to show you that Alex wasn’t moved by your words, what came out of her mouth surely is.

“I’m sorry that I don’t trust your idiot friends who nearly burned down their own warehouse to keep my daughter safe.”

Something about the way she says it pisses you off but the reasonable part of your brain knows that being angry isn’t going to make this conversation any easier.

So you take a moment, putting everything back in the boxes and grabbing them as you stand up.

“I’m gonna go put this stuff away,” you say, not looking at her, “Come talk to me when you remember that Charlie’s my kid too.”

“Y/N.”

You cut her off and continue walking away, “Seriously Alex, not now.”

A few weeks later, the incident is mostly forgotten, in that neither you nor Alex have brought it back up and have chosen to continue like it never happened.

At least that’s how you’ve been handling it until Alex walks into your bedroom one night after Charlie’s been put to bed with a concerned look on her face.

“What’s the matter,” you ask, setting your book down.

“The nanny canceled for tomorrow.”

“Oh shit.”

Alex has to hold back a smile as she rolls her eyes at your response and walks to the bathroom to get ready for bed.

“Yup,” she says, “And I can’t take her to training with me tomorrow, we have meetings in between our two sessions.”

“I’m kinda free in the morning, I’ve got a couple of calls with Nike and Red Bull,” you tell her, “the problem is the afternoon. Beagle and some of the guys are supposed to come down so we can get clips. Deadline’s coming up.”

You hear a groan followed by a light slight thump before Alex speaks again.

“Crap, can you take her with you,” she asks.

It’s your turn to grimace, the idea of having Charlie watch you and your friends practically throw yourself down stairs is not a very appealing one.

Seeming to sense your hesitation, Alex continues speaking, “You can bring the board Reynolds sent her and show her what you do for work.”

“Uh, what,” you say confused.

“Last week, Charlie said that I play soccer for work and that you take phone calls for work,” she says in a way of explanation.

“I’m not sure how that managed to change your mind about her skateboarding.”

It takes her another moment to respond and you just sit there staring waiting for her to finish brushing her teeth.

When she does, she walks back out of the bathroom and says, “You don’t think it’s weird that our daughter has no idea what you do for work? It doesn’t bother you?”

“Uh, no,” it sounds like a question even though you don’t mean for it to. “I’m 33 years old and I have no clue what either of my parents did for work when I was a kid. I think my dad might have been in the mob.”

“Can you be serious for 5 minutes, Y/N/N?”

“I think I’d die if I tried,” you say with a grin, “Might even be offed by my mob boss father.”

“You’re intolerable,” Alex says getting into bed.

“So I’ve been told,” you respond, “Just relax, I’ll take Chuck with me tomorrow. We’ll hang out with Beagle and the boys and everything will be cool.”

And for the most part, the majority of the next morning is cool, your calls go well and you manage to get all the details you need for the team tours hammered out.

The afternoon is when things take a slight turn.

First, Beagle and the guys showed up a little early, which normally wouldn’t have been a problem but Figgy walked into the house and immediately went to wake Charlie up from her nap.

Then you had to try and get a toddler and five grown men out of the house. It was only the promise of you buying lunch that convinces your friends and the promise of being taught to skateboard that convinces Charlie to head out to the van.

After that, it's back to smooth sailing.

You guys manage to knock out a few spots, everybody getting the tricks or lines that they’ve been working.

It’s at the final spot that you realize that maybe Alex was right about not having your friends around Charlie.

It all happens so suddenly too.

One second you’re slamming after yet again failing to laser flip down the Valencia 20 stair and the next you’re hearing a little voice saying, “Mama, you just got fucking broke off!”

And the only thought you have, while you’re laying there trying to catch your breath, is that it’s your fault really. You're the one that left Dickson and Theotis watching her while you tried this trick.

You don’t even have the energy to tell her not to say things like that, you need every last ounce of it that you do have to pull yourself back up the stairs to give the trick another go.

You speak only a few words on your way back up, “Thanks, Charlie. Beagle, I’ve got it this try, man.”

“Yeah, man, let’s get it,” the filmer shouts up at you.

It’s probably going to be your last shot to nail this trick, your body is aching, your shirt is torn, and you're pretty sure that you’ve got a couple of scrapes leaking blood and staining it.

So taking a deep breath, you begin pushing towards the stairs again.

Next thing you know, you're at the bottom of the stairs still on your board rolling away. Figgy, Dickson, and MIke, your photographer, are hooting and hollering, Theotis is skating after you holding Charlie, and Beagle is running behind you, camera still in hand.

Slowing to a stop, you let yourself be surrounded by your friends and take Charlie into your arms, you look at Beagle who speaks first.

“That’s the ender right there man, we start the part with that last slam and we have gold bro,” he says.

Before you have a chance to respond, Charlie speaks.

“Mama that was so cool,” she practically yells in your face, “Teach me how to do that?”

“Maybe we work on the basics like standing on the board first, and then work our way up to things like that,” you tell her, already fearing the repercussions from Alex. “Come let’s go ride for a bit while Figgy tries to kill this rail.”

“It’ll be gnarly.”

That night when you get home, you’re unsurprised to see that Alex is already there.

“Babe, we’re back,” you shout in greeting.

“In the kitchen.”

Making your way there, you’re quick to try and greet her with a kiss but you’re shocked when she leans away instead of returning your affection.

When you pout at her, she just rolls her eyes and says, “You smell, you’re covered in dirt, and,” she pauses, “Is that blood?”

“Might be,” you shrug, “Can I have my kiss now?”

You lean in again only to be stopped by a hand to the chest pushing you away.

“Go take a shower and then I’ll think about it,” she says.

Taking a step back you sigh, “Ugh fine. Charlie tell your mommy about all the stuff you did today.”

You begin walking away as your daughter begins to ramble. You make it halfway to your room when you hear it.

“And then we went to a school and Mama got fucking broke off when…”

You go running back to the kitchen shouting, “Charlie no!”

Alex glares at you the second you make it to the doorway.

“Y/N,” her voice is stern, “Why is our toddler cursing?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Never again, Y/N, never again.”

“Fair enough.”

[steveharringtonat3am]

helloo! I was thinking about Steve being soft about reader. Reader is sick and can't take medicine, like reader has a fear of swallowing pills something like that and Steve is there to help the reader. Thank you very much!! I hope you're having a good day too! 💕

You’ve always hating being sick. You can’t really remember when it started, maybe when you were small and got a fever so high your mom had to run a cold cloth over your forehead so you wouldn’t overheat. Or maybe when you caught that cold and your throat was so scratchy you wanted to just pull it out.

But you weren’t a little kid anymore, so you had to tough it out.

The next day at work was horrible. Your whole body hurt, your throat was aching and dry no matter how much water you drank, and you couldn’t stop sneezing. You told Steve you were busy with work, to avoid the daily lunch break phone call. You knew he would hear your illness in your voice and you couldn’t bear to burden him like that.

Steve was the most caring boyfriend you’d ever had. He was always going out of his way to do things like picking up your favourite snacks, filling up your car with gas, even taking bugs from your apartment outside. He had never seen you sick before and you just know he’ll go overboard.

You barely manage the drive home but the need to curl on the couch and watch movies all night is enough to push you through.

‘Dinner is a problem for later.’ You think to yourself as you toss your coat onto a chair, stumbling to your bedroom to change into one of Steves’ sweaters and a pair of pyjama pants. A chill has suck it’s way into your bones and you quickly burrow onto your couch and wrap a blanket around yourself. You about to turn on a movie when your phone begins to buzz. A glance at the screen, glowing with Steves’ cheesy smile and you wince. He knows your home and he definitely knows something is up since you always call on your drive home since you like the company.

“Hi baby!” You pick up, trying to keep the sore throat out of your voice.

“Hey babe. Haven’t talked to you all day! You want me to come over? I can bring takeout.” You grip your blanket in uncertainty. Your apartment is definitely riddled with germs and getting Steve sick would be worse than him seeing you like this.

“N-no no it’s alright. I’m feeling a bit tired so I’m probably going to bed now.” A weak lie that you know he’ll see right through.

“…It’s six o’clock. Are you feeling alright baby?” He’s so concerned you could cry.

“Yep! Great. Timeforbedokaybyeiloveyou!” You hang up quickly, tossing your phone to the other side of the couch in embarrassment. Hopefully you’ll wake up better tomorrow and you can pretend this never happened.

The knock on the door startles you awake. You blink as your eyes come into focus, crawling out of the warm cocoon you had built to stumble to the door. The light of your oven reads 7:06. You swing the door open and your heart sinks immediately. Steve, still in his work uniform, holds bags of takeout, a soft grin on his face.

“Hi sweetheart.” He greets you with a soft kiss on the cheek before slipping into your apartment. You lock the door, guilt settling in your stomach.

When you join him in the kitchen, he’s unpacking the food. He sets a large container of soup in the microwave and your mouth waters just a bit.

“I could tell you were feeling a bit under the weather so I got you some wonton soup from that place you like. And I picked up some tylenol in case you were achy and some regular cold medicine if you want that. It’s cherry flavoured.” He smiles so sweet at you that you might cry.

“I-I can’t take tylenol.” You know you should thank him, but the bottle of pills is the first thing on your mind.

“Why not?”

“I just…I don’t like swallowing pills. They feel like they get stuck in my throat and they just don’t-don’t go down.” It sounds stupid saying it but you know you should. You had never been able to get down pills, unless they were so tiny you didn’t notice.

“That’s alright babe. How about I split it and you try that?” You inspect the pills as you decide. The groove in the middle means splitting it is safe, and you think you could manage each half.

“Okay…” You watch carefully as he severs the pill with a knife, grabbing you a glass of water to wash it down. He hands it to you and pretends to not watch.

It takes you a second to get over the mental hurdle, placing the piece in your mouth and immediately taking a gulp of water. The pill manages to get lost in the liquid and you swallow with ease. You take the other piece and swallow once more. When it goes down, you show Steve with a smile and he grins proudly.

“Good job babe!” He pours you some soup, grabbing a bowl of fried rice for himself as you both head to the couch to eat. You relax into him as the soup calms your throat.

“Thank you for taking care of me, Steve.” You smile up at him and he mirrors it.

“Of course, sweetheart. Anything for you.”

[mrsevans90]

Puppy Love

Captain Syverson x OFC Emma Miller Part 15

Summary: Austin Syverson has returned to Texas after retiring from the military and starts his own contracting business. Syverson is used to being alone and thinks he prefers it that way. While at work he stumbles upon an injured and abused puppy. When he meets the new veterinarian in town, Emma Miller, he is immediately smitten with her. It turns out Emma has some baggage of her own. Will they be able to make it work? Or is it just a case of fleeting puppy love?

Pairing: Henry Cavill as Captain Austin Syverson x OFC Emma Miller 

Warnings: FLUFF, arm cast injury, Nana sassiness, crude language, innuendos, and Walt!

MINORS DNI! Must be 18+

I do not authorize any copying/pasting, stealing of my work, or using my words as your own. 

This story is not beta’d. All mistakes are my own.

A/N: I am an imperfect person who makes mistakes. All that I ask is to please be kind and if you enjoy it then please comment and REPOST! I appreciate any love, comments, and reposts more than you could know. Thank you for reading! 

Part 14

I lay in bed holding Emma for as long as she sleeps, refusing to leave her side for more than a quick restroom break. Emma is wrapped around my body as it helps her to relax and I’m more than happy to have her curled against me. Emma begins to rouse around ten am and I know she needed every bit of that additional sleep for both her exhausted body and brain to recuperate.

“Hi.” Emma whispers while sleepily rubbing her eyes with her left hand as she sees me watching her.

“Mornin’ Sugar. You sleep okay?” 

She nods but doesn’t say anything.

“How’s the arm?” I ask and she looks down sheepishly. 

“Hurts. I need some more Tylenol and maybe ice.” She admits.

“Let’s get some in ya then. After breakfast, I’m taking you to the urgent care and I don’t want to hear a word about it.” I tell her using my “captain voice” that she once told me she thinks is dominant and sexy.

“Okay.” She agrees knowing I’m not going to back down from getting her proper care.

She takes care of her needs in the bathroom before we brush our teeth and she sits on the bed. I walk over and pick her up where I wrap her legs around me before I start heading down the stairs.

“Austin. My legs aren’t hurt. I can walk.”

“I know, but I want to hold you.”

“You’re going to reinjure your leg carrying me around like this.” She says as she buries her head in my neck and goosebumps raise on my arms and neck from her mouth so close to my sweet spot.

“I’m a bit tougher than you think, darlin’.” 

“Oh, I think you’re plenty tough.” She whispers against my neck and I feel the blood rushing to my dick. Not now, Syverson.

I set her on the counter next to the coffee maker and start brewing us some coffee that I’ve been thinking about for the past 3 hours. I’m used to waking up much earlier than this and am usually finished with my second cup by this point. 

“Biscuits, sausage and eggs sound good?” I ask and she nods. I pull the frozen peas from the freezer and place them across her bandaged arm.

“Not a word about my canned biscuits.” I tease her and she holds up her wrapped arm.

“Not really in a position to tease since my homemade ones would be a lot more difficult to make today.” I was about to apologize again for her getting injured but am surprised when she kicks my rear with her foot from where she’s sitting and winks at me. I love when she’s playful like this, especially after what happened yesterday.

“When are we getting the dogs back home?” Emma asks.

“Whenever you’d like, Sugar. I can call PawPaw and arrange something after we go to the doctor.”

“Okay, I guess I need to call my parents and let them know what happened yesterday.” She says sullenly.  “I’m here for you babe. Whatever you need.” I tell her and she goes to get her phone and make the call while I make breakfast. I decide to call my grandparents while cooking and inform them that we obviously won’t be at lunch today. Nana tells me she’s still cooking everything and will package it up for us to take home when we get the dogs. I thank them both for dropping everything to help yesterday and of course they tell us that it was no problem. I ensure Nana that Emma is okay and I’ll keep them updated on what the doctor says about her arm. Nana is going all mother hen and asking to come clean her house or what she can do to help us and as sweet as it is, I just want to give Emma time to process without pressure.

Once breakfast is finished, I set the table and go in search of Emma. I find her on the back porch still on the phone with her parents who were obviously upset. 

“May I?” I gesture to the phone after Emma looks mentally exhausted and she nods.

“James? Diana? Hi, it’s Austin. I just wanted to reassure you that I’m taking care of our girl and taking all of the necessary steps to ensure he doesn’t get out of jail. My cousin, Walt, is a detective and has filed several charges against him and feels confident that between witness testimonies as well as parking lot footage from the store, he will receive significant jail time.”

“We are so grateful that you were there, Austin.” Diana says.

“So am I, I’d like to apologize for not getting there sooner. I have replayed the assault in my head time and time again and wish it had gone so differently.”

“Emma says that you almost killed him before taking care of her, so there’s no need to apologize.” James exclaims.

“I’ll be honest, if I had not been told to stop, I probably would have. I was so enraged that he ever laid a hand on her that I just couldn’t think of anything else. We will go to the doctor here in just a bit to check on her arm, and I promise to keep you guys informed.” I assure them.

After the phone call, I help Emma up and inside.

“Thank you.” Emma kisses me on the cheek.

“Not a problem, Darlin’. Eat up.” I gesture toward the food as I refill her coffee mug.

“Thanks for breakfast as well, but I meant talking to my parents. My dad almost lost his mind. I was running out of steam trying to reassure them and stop them from coming here.” 

“I can’t say I wouldn’t be the same way if it was our daughter in your position. Heaven forbid.”

Emma smiles sweetly. “Our daughter?”

I smirk at her and nod. “You like the sound of that or somethin’?”

“I do.” Those two words coming out of her mouth make me bite back a smile. God, I hope she’ll be saying them to me sooner rather than later.

“Me too, Sugar. You have no idea how much.” I reply before getting lost in the idea of a beautiful little blue-eyed baby girl that looks like her momma.

We eat our breakfast and get dressed before heading to the local urgent care. I know they have an x-ray machine and after the typical hour wait they take her back and examine her injury. It’s determined that she does have a hairline fracture but it shouldn’t need any additional care outside of a cast. She’s referred to an orthopedist next week for a more permanent cast and Emma is not pleased that she’ll have one for the next few weeks, already thinking of ways to convince the doctor that a temporary cast will be much more realistic considering her job. I call Nana on the way back from the doctor and let her know we’re going to head that way to pick up the dogs. I think some snuggles with Mills and Aika will help lift Emma’s spirits. We make our way to the farm and park and I help Emma out of the truck before the front door comes flying open and Nana comes flurrying out.

“Oh, thank God you’re okay!” Nana scuttles down the stairs and I turn thinking she’s going to give me a hug but she blows right past me and wraps Emma up in a tight hug. I can’t help but chuckle at Emma’s face who was clearly not expecting that either.

“I’m okay, Nana. Thanks to Austin of course.” She says and smirks at me.

“I’ve been so worried but Austin begged me to let you rest otherwise I would have been up at your house cooking and cleaning or whatever you needed.”

“Thank you, Nana. I appreciate it. Austin has been taking great care of me though. He’s been amazing.”

“Good. I should hope so.”

“Hi Nana. Nice to see you too.” I joke as she’s been ignoring my presence.

“Hi son.” She answered. Even though I’m their grandson, PawPaw always called me that when I was growing up and working with him on the farm and it kind of just became their nickname for me. I guess because he only had a daughter and my dad never stuck around, he considered me like a son that he could pass all of his knowledge too. Mark never really cared much for working at the farm and believe me, there were times when I hated it as well, but I found the tranquility in being able to mentally detach and build something or fix something tangible as well as working with the animals. Mark was more of the philosophical type who filled his time with school studies or high school girlfriends. I relished being outside and my PawPaw never missed a single football game growing up. Maybe that’s why I stayed so close with my grandparents even after the military sent me away for so many years.

I’m brought back to reality from my thoughts when the screen porch door creaks open with PawPaw sending the pups out to us. I immediately catch the ball of fluff running straight towards us to keep him from jumping on Emma. Mills’s tail is wagging so hard he almost falls over from his excitement. Aika is a bit slower but still just as happy to see us and receive all of the attention and scratches.

“Hi PawPaw.” I greet him as he makes his way down the stairs.

“Hi son. I held the hounds off as long as I could but they heard you and were just pitiful not being able to get to ya.” 

“How much has Nana spoiled them while they were here?” I ask.

“I didn’t!” I hear Nana interrupt her conversation with Emma to defend herself.

“The woman boiled them chicken for supper. Seasoned it and everything. Damn dogs had a feast fit for humans last night. Not to mention she gave them a treat for simply ‘looking cute’ or not barking at the chickens.” PawPaw mutters with a shake of his head and I can’t help but laugh.

“That sounds about right. I’m betting they don’t even want to come back home.” I chuckle as we all head up the stairs into the house. 

“Well she’s back on her soapbox about how she needs a dog now so maybe just let them visit overnight and I can keep holding her off. I’ve got too many animals to feed and tend to without adding more.”

“I’ll bring ‘em over for her to spoil rotten sometime in the next week or so.” I tell him and PawPaw just winks at me.

“Now, clue us in on everything that happened please. Your PawPaw never asks questions and I’ve got about a million of ‘em.”

I look at Emma and she nods giving me silent permission to tell them what happened.

“Emma has an ex who treated her badly while she was in Alabama and she got a restraining order against him. After she moved here, he tracked her down somehow and I called Walt who helped us arrest him for breaking the restraining order. We set her up with security cameras and an alarm system at her home which gave us both peace of mind when she wasn’t with me. He apparently has been following her and was able to somehow find that we were at the store where he attempted to kidnap her in the parking lot. I got to him and knocked him unconscious, and Walt was able to file several charges against him. He fractured Emma’s wrist in the scuffle and she’s supposed to go next week for a temporary cast which she’s not too thrilled about. That’s about it.”

“Oh, heavens. I can’t imagine how scared you must have been, sweetheart.” Nana coos at Emma who nods somewhat embarrassed. “I was. I’m so glad Austin was there and he’s been absolutely amazing. I just worry about him getting in trouble over it.”

“I told ya, Sugar, if he presses charges I’ve got witnesses and video footage to prove it was warranted. I wish I had done worse, honestly.”

“Ya should’ve just smashed his head in.” Nana mutters.

“Nana, what would the church think?” I playfully scoff and we all bust out laughing except PawPaw who just cracks a smile.

“I don’t answer to the church, I answer to the good Lord above and I think he might be okay with that since you were protecting your woman.” She says sassily and I can’t help but shake my head at her.

“You’re something else, Nana.” 

Before we can take the dogs home, Nana practically forces us to eat cookies that she’s made.

She packages them up along with the food that she made at lunch and sends us home with about eight different containers of food, one of which is labeled for the dogs. I load it all in the truck before putting the dogs in the backseat and going back to say goodbye to my grandparents and help Emma in.

I smile as Emma hugs PawPaw tightly and thanks him for helping us the other day.

“Y’all are family, and we’ll always be there if you need us. That goes for either one of ya.” He says and Emma looks flabbergasted to have PawPaw include her in a statement so loving. Those were rare from PawPaw.

“Thank you. We would do anything for y’all too and I’m so grateful to have y’all in my corner.” She smiles shyly at him before Nana scoops her into another hug with promises about lunch next Sunday.

I hug PawPaw tightly and then Nana telling them both that we love them before helping Emma into the truck and heading out. Emma is silent looking out of the window as we make our way down the long drive and when I finally get her attention I see a tear running down her cheek.

“Sugar, what’s wrong? You hurtin’?” I ask thinking either her period or her arm are bothering her.

“No, I’m just grateful. Your grandparents accepted me without any questions even with the drama that follows me. I’ve never had that with anyone other than my parents. Colin’s family tolerated me at best, but they didn’t like that I wasn’t wealthy like them. I wasn’t raised in prestigious private schools and country clubs. I always felt out of place or looked down upon. Your grandparents have met me a few times and seem to fully accept me as part of your family and it’s just the most loving feeling.”

“Aw, babygirl, they do love you. I have no doubt that both of those two old folks would drop everything they were doing if you needed them. You’re part of this family.” I entangle our fingers together as I hold her hand.

“It’s just overwhelming to be accepted so quickly, just as myself.” She says.

“Well, you are. I haven’t brought a woman home in years, not since I was in my early twenties. My grandparents are a great judge of character. Nana is very outspoken both good and bad and with PawPaw, I can just tell by his demeanor when he’s pleased or disappointed in me. I knew he liked you after that first lunch when he hugged you. He’s never felt necessary to conform to southern social niceties, which means he did that because he genuinely wanted too. I think they are honestly so grateful that you put up with my stubborn ass that they are hoping to convince you to stick around.” I joke and Emma smirks.

“You’re more than a handful. I’d say a mouth and two handfuls to be exact.” She crudely insinuates and I almost choke on my own saliva which causes her to giggle.

“Sugar, you surprise me at every turn. You’re this sweet innocent thing one minute and then your joking about taking my dick in your mouth the next. You’re the whole damn package.”

“I could say the same about you.” She sweetly giggles.

“I love you.”

“I love you more, baby.”

The following week has arrived and Emma has somehow convinced the orthopedist to use the hard cast for the next three weeks before moving to a temporary, removable brace. Her charm apparently knows no bounds. She isn’t thrilled about wearing the cast, claiming she feels like she’s back in high school after she broke her ankle from a cheer accident, but I can’t help but smile when she comes in with a blue cast on her forearm.

“Want me to sign it? I promise I won’t draw pornographic stick figures where anyone can see them.” I joke and she rolls her eyes with a gentle shove against me. 

“Not a chance. I’m already mortified that I have to wear it for the next three weeks. I don’t need any additional attention being put on it.”

“I think you look cute.” I kiss her forehead.

“You won’t think that when you’re having to help me put a bag on it just to shower tonight.”

“I promise, I will.”

While Emma is at work, I make an appointment in the next town over. Walt had asked if I wanted to get a beer sometime this week, but instead, I asked him to meet me for lunch. We met up at a fast food restaurant, called Milo’s, where we grabbed some food.

“What are we doing in Bouldin Creek for lunch?” Walt asks as he takes a bite out of his burger.

“There’s a jewelry shop here I need to go to and I figured you wouldn’t mind.”

“Plan on getting yourself some new earrings?” He jokes.

“Plan on picking up an engagement ring I’ve been looking at online.” 

“Atta boy.” Walt says as he pops a fry into his mouth.

“Hopefully it’s the right one.” I say as I overthink what’s about to be a very large purchase, and I’ve never talked to Emma about her jewelry preferences.

“I’m sure it will be. When are you planning to pop the question?”

“I haven’t gotten that far. Still stuck on the how to ask the question.” I mumble. I’ve always been a very confident person, but I really don’t want to fuck this up.

“Well, when I asked Angie, I took her out do dinner. I don’t think I’d do that again. If she turned me down that would have sucked in front of everyone. But, we’re divorced so don’t take my advice.” 

“Noted.” I smirk and he punches my arm across the table.

“Don’t be a dick. I was young and in love. You’re just old and in love.” 

“I’m two years younger than you, asshole.”

“Yeah, and I’m old which makes you old too. Can you even get down on one knee?”

I flip him off and he chuckles.

“Yes, I can. I was thinkin’ about maybe just taking her on a picnic or something. Watching the sunset maybe? I don’t even know what I should say but I want to make it romantic for her.”

“Let’s go get the ring and we can brainstorm.”

“Thanks man. Any new updates with Colin?” I ask as we head towards my truck.

“He’s still sitting in jail waiting on the court date in two weeks to determine if he receives bail. We’re obviously making a case for him being a flight risk and asking for him to remain in jail, but I can’t predict what the judge will do. He’s got some outlandish claims which of course haven’t been backed up with evidence.”

“And what are those claims?”

Walt sighs knowing I’m going to get even more pissed off. “He claimed that Emma called him asking him to meet her there and rescue her from you. It’s obvious bullshit and he has no proof that there was ever a call. He’s just trying to save his ass.”

“Rescue her from me?” 

“I told you it was bullshit, man.”

“Jesus. The guy is even more of a pussy than I had imagined. Can’t take accountability for anything it seems. I plan on being there in court, but Emma hasn’t decided what she wants to do yet. I think it’ll be too hard on her to be there but if she wants to go I’m not going to stop her.”

“Well, maybe its best if you both stay away. I’ll be there and can let you know what happens. I think you’ll both just get angry and that’s not what either of you need right now. Why don’t you take her on a trip or something?”

“I’ll think about it. A trip might be a nice distraction from things.”

“Maybe take her somewhere and propose. The mountains, beach, tropical vacation? You’ve traveled more than me so I’m sure you have a better idea.”

“If by traveling, you mean in a damn cargo plane out to the desert, then sure. I have no desire to vacation in Afghanistan.” I joke and Walt rolls his eyes.

We head into the jewelry store and with mine and Walt’s careful opinion, I select the ring that I plan to propose to Emma with. We’ve only been together for a handful of months, but when you know you know, right? I don’t want to waste any more time just on the conventional approach. I have never felt like this with anyone before and I feel like my once in a lifetime, soulmate connection actually came to true. I want her to be mine, officially, if she’ll have me. 

That evening, Emma is home when I get back and I quickly and discreetly hide the ring with my ammunition on the top shelf of the closet knowing that she would never look there and she’s not tall enough to reach it without a stool. She hasn’t stayed at her house since the kidnapping attempt, claiming she just wants to be here with me. I decide to broach the subject over dinner.

“You still serious about wanting to move in here with me?” I ask and without hesitation Emma nods.

“Not because you’re scared of being alone, though right?” “No baby, I’ll admit you’ve helped keep the nightmares away but this just feels like home. It has from the moment I first came here and you being here is the main reason. Though if you want me too, I can go back to mine.”

“Not a chance in hell, Sugar. I want you here constantly with me. That’s why I was hoping we could discuss officially moving ya in and how to make that happen?”

She smiles and I grin back at her.

“I’d love too. What about the furniture?”

“Well, the guest rooms upstairs are empty and you have the eye for interior design. You can replace anything I’ve got in here if you’d like, except for a few sentimental things of my mama’s. Just tell me what you want to do and we’ll make it happen.”

“I don’t have a lot of stuff anyway. Should we list my house?”

“Let’s get it empty first so we’re not in a rush and then we can list it if you want too.”

“I can’t believe I’m actually going to live here with you.”

“I can’t believe I talked you into it, roomie. Let’s start this weekend. I don’t want to await any longer.” I smirk at her and she giggles.

“I also wanted to talk to you about maybe taking a vacation?”

“Where’d you have in mind?” She asks as she picks up her wine glass.

“Honestly, anywhere. I haven’t been on a true honest to God vacation in almost a decade and I’d like to take you somewhere and have some time with just us if you’re up for it.”

“I’d love too!”

“Maybe the beach? We could drive down and spend a week out in the sun.”

“That sounds perfect. I haven’t been to the beach in at least two years.” She says.

“Well, buy yourself some cute little bikinis and I’ll plan the whole thing, alright Sugar?”

“Oh, I’ll buy some bikinis, don’t you worry.” She sasses and I’m already itching to book this vacation and get us away from all obligations and responsibilities. If I plan it right, maybe I can use this as my opportunity to make a romantic proposal.

Emma, the beach, and a bed is all I need. I’m about to be one happy man.

Part 16

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