#writing this while in the walk-in freezer

[fluentmoviequoter]

Say It Plain

Eddie Diaz x fem!firefighter!reader

✰ You make Eddie feel like he belongs in Los Angeles and in the 118, caring for him and his son. The closer you get, the more he realizes that you bring something to his life he didn't know he needed. After you become close friends, he decides to tell you he sees you as more than that.

✰ fluff, banter/humor, friends to lovers, brief angst/fear, confessions, spoilers for 2x02-2x03, 5.7k+ words, requested

✰ pictures from pinterest (Joe's is in NYC, just don't think about it)

✰ A/N: This is my first attempt writing for Eddie, so he's most likely OOC!

“It’s hot,” Chimney complains.

“When did you get a meteorology degree?” you question, lacing your voice with faux shock until your conversation is interrupted by an alert of a car accident.

“If you think it’s hot now,” you murmur, “tell me how the gear feels.”

“It’s gonna be a long day,” Hen sighs as you open the truck door.

You nod, and she taps her hand comfortingly on your back.

When you return to the station, you change and look forward to going home to eat as much ice cream and as many popsicles as you have in your freezer. You drop your phone from your pocket, groaning as you squat to retrieve it. Your fingers brush the concrete, and your eyes widen at the realization that it’s cool – at least twenty degrees cooler than the air. Not caring that you’re in an open area, you shift to sit on the concrete floor, then lay down with your back on its cool surface. Sighing, you close your eyes and hope that you don’t have to get up for a while.

“Are you okay?” someone asks.

“Yep,” you answer, lifting one arm to send them a thumbs up. It’s not a voice you recognize, but you don’t know everyone in the station right now anyway.

“Okay,” the voice drawls. “You’re just lying on the floor because?”

“It’s cool. It feels good.”

The man above you hums, then says, “You know, you can run cold water over your wrists to regulate body temperature.”

He sounds closer, so you pry your eyes open and turn your head, surprised to see him lowered to one knee with his left hand spread on the floor and his right elbow propped on his knee.

“You’re the new recruit,” you realize. “And, yeah, everyone knows the kangaroo method.”

His brows lift as he fails to hide his smile. “Not everyone knows that,” he argues. “Eddie Diaz.”

He offers you his hand, but you lift your index finger to ask for a second. You stand, then offer your hand.

“Wait,” he murmurs as he stands. Only when he’s upright does he shake your hand and murmur your name under his breath.

“Welcome to the 118,” you say. “I assume someone has shown you around already?”

“Yeah, I got the tour. Didn’t include the fun fact about taking naps on the floor to cool off, though,” he jokes.

“Well…” you look around, then lean forward to whisper, “I know all the good tricks around here.”

“Seems like I met the right person, then.”

“I heard you graduated top of your class,” you say as you walk down the hall. “Congratulations, that’s amazing.”

“Thank you,” Eddie replies. “I know it doesn’t really win much in a new station, but I’m committed to this.”

“We’re glad you’re here,” you assure him. “Even if a lot of us are intolerable.”

“You seem alright.”

Your smile grows when you see his, and you pretend to flip your hair over your shoulder despite having it pulled up. “I’m more than alright,” you tease.

He laughs at you, and your belief is confirmed: Eddie is amazing, and he’s going to be a great addition to the station. You can see a great friendship with him.

“Diaz!” Nash calls. “Got some people to introduce you to.”

“The intolerable ones?” he asks through his teeth.

“Mmhmm,” you hum, waving at Nash.

“Eddie, this is Hen,” Nash introduces. “Hen, Eddie. This is Chimney-“

Nash is interrupted by yet another call, and you tap your knuckles against Eddie’s bicep in a silent wish that his first day is memorable for the right reasons.

You’re sandwiched between Buck and Chimney as you drive to the auto shop, where someone is apparently blowing up. Chimney leans over you to talk to Eddie, who presses his lips together when you shove Chimney off of you.

“Nash,” you complain into your headset. “Chimney’s touching me.”

“Whoa, okay, that did not sound good,” he argues. “If HR calls me, I’m going to be very upset.”

Buck interrupts your playful conversation to ask, “Is your full name Eduardo?”

“No,” Eddie answers.

“People ever call you Diaz?”

“Not if they want me to respond.”

You look at Hen and mouth, what is happening? She makes a measuring tape motion, and you shake your head. As Buck continues badgering Eddie about getting an unofficial ‘callsign,’ you let your gaze stray to Eddie. He’s inarguably attractive, but there’s something about his demeanor that makes him immediately likable.

“Look,” Buck begins again.

You smack your hand against his chest, then point at him in warning. When he falls silent, his eyes wide and obviously offended, Nash laughs in the front seat.

“Wait, wait, wait!” Hen yells, slapping her hand down on the table. “Go back?”

“I have a son named Christopher?” Eddie repeats slowly, looking at you for confirmation.

“This isn’t supposed to be an interrogation,” Nash intervenes.

“Yeah, ask a good question,” you encourage. “Like mine was.”

Eddie smiles at you but doesn’t say anything.

“I was asking for clarification on the ex-wife part,” Hen clarifies. “Someone left you? Is she stupid?”

“No,” Eddie answers immediately.

“She fumbled, that’s what she did,” Chimney deadpans.

“Chim,” you gasp, turning toward him.

He lifts his hands over his chest so you can’t hit him the same way you slapped Buck earlier.

“May I ask another question?” you ask.

“Go for it,” Eddie answers.

“Can we go home?”

“I actually do need to get going,” Eddie agrees, standing.

“No,” Hen complains, causing Eddie to stop halfway between sitting and standing.

“You can go,” you tell him. “I’ll walk out with you.”

Away from the rest of the team, you sigh and look up at the sky.

“Thank you,” Eddie says.

“For?”

“You made my first day really great,” he explains, watching you as you draw your eyes back to him. “I was a little nervous about fitting into the team, being the new guy. You made me feel really welcomed, and I appreciate that.”

“Well, you’re great, so it wasn’t hard,” you reply, not realizing that it sounds a little flirty.

“And thanks for Buck, too, of course,” he adds as you begin walking again.

“No one has ever thanked me for him before. I think I’m offended, Eddie.”

He laughs before he clarifies, “I mean, thank you for interceding. He seems…”

“Intolerable?”

“Unlike you,” he agrees with a nod.

“Have a good night, Eddie,” you say. “And enjoy some time with your son.”

“See you tomorrow.”

Eddie ensures you’re safe in your car and it starts properly before he heads home. He met his new team today, but you’re the most memorable member of the 118. You’re sweet, made him feel like he belongs, literally knocked manners into someone for him, and didn’t get in on the jokes about his ex. There’s a mutual respect between you and Eddie, the beginning of a great friendship, he thinks. And while the team is good, you make the transition to Los Angeles and the LAFD seem conquerable.

While you spend the night alone in your apartment, Eddie picks up Christopher from his mom’s house and takes him home.

“How many friends did you make on your first day?” Christopher asks, copying Eddie’s question from after Christopher went to his new school for the first time.

“One,” Eddie answers, chuckling. “I guess I’m not as popular as you.”

Christopher laughs, and Eddie wonders what his son would think of his new friend.

“Mango pineapple or strawberry banana?” you question when Eddie enters the kitchen on his second day.

“Uh, neither?” he replies carefully. “Why?”

You lift two smoothie cups, and he makes an ah sound before pointing to the one in your left hand. As you extend it to him, your fingers brush, bringing a smile to both of your faces. Eddie takes a single sip of the smoothie before his eyes widen appreciatively.

“Did you make this?” he questions.

“Of course not,” you scoff. “My favourite place is three blocks from here and I thought we could use a good start to the day.”

“This is amazing,” he muses. “What do I owe you?”

“An answer to a question.”

“No, I mean-“

“I know what you mean,” you interrupt. “And I can appreciate that you’re a gentleman, there aren’t many of you left. But it’s a gift.”

“Thank you,” Eddie says softly. “What’s the question?”

“Can I see a picture of Christopher?”

Eddie slows, impressed that you cared enough to remember his son’s name. He sets the smoothie cup down and pulls his phone from his pocket. When he finds a picture, he turns his phone toward you, but you move closer, pressing your shoulder to his arm to see.

“He’s adorable,” you gush. “Oh my gosh.”

“He’s a great kid,” Eddie agrees, watching your profile.

“How’s he like LA?” you inquire.

“Pretty well so far,” Eddie replies, pushing his phone into his pocket and briefly wishing you’d stayed against his side. “He loves the museums, all the places to go and see.”

“Have you taken him to the LA Zoo?”

“No, but it’s on the list.”

“There’s a first responder discount when you do go,” you tell him. “Not a huge one, but it helps.”

“What would you recommend we see first?” Eddie asks, leaning on the counter across from you as you share breakfast.

“Ooh… LA County Museum of Art, The Getty, California Science Center, Griffith Observatory, and the zoo and botanical gardens are some of the best,” you list. “And that’s just museum-adjacent locations.”

“Hey,” Buck greets. “Is Nash here?”

“In the office,” you answer. “How are you?”

“My sister made me coffee, things are great.”

Eddie glances at you from the corner of his eyes, and you fight the urge to laugh.

“Wait, why hasn’t Nash cooked yet?” Buck questions.

“It’s not his week to make breakfast,” you say simply. Buck frowns, so you add, “Is it, Buckley?”

“It’s my week?” he asks.

“Ding ding,” you sing-song. “Get crackin’, Buck. Seriously, there are eggs in the fridge.”

Eddie follows you out of the kitchen, looking down at the smoothie cup in his hand. You brought him this knowing that someone else was supposed to cook; you only brought him something. Maybe he was right when he told Christopher you were his friend.

“Hey, I was gonna go to CityWalk for dinner and to hang out for a bit tonight,” you tell Eddie. “Would you want to come? You could bring Christopher if you wanted, of course.”

Eddie had planned to get yet another pizza and try to unpack the last of his boxes tonight. A night out with you, however, sounds a lot more enjoyable. You’ve given him more than one reason to unpack, to make a home here where he can be himself and happy for a long time.

“That would be great, if you’re sure,” Eddie replies. “Christopher would like the break in routine, I’m sure.”

“Great,” you cheer. “If, uh, if you want to ride together, I can pay for parking.”

“Yeah, but I’ll cover it, since we’re crashing your night.”

You prepare to argue again, but Nash steps out of the office and waves to you and Eddie.

“Nonemergency medical call a few blocks from here, can you take it?” he asks.

“Of course,” you answer while Eddie nods.

Eddie leads you to the ambulance, checking that everything is in place before he climbs into the driver’s seat. You radio to dispatch that you’re responding to the call while Eddie pulls out, and only then do you realize this is Eddie’s first ‘real’ call. He was incredibly helpful yesterday, but it wasn’t quite the same.

“Hey, take the lead on this,” you suggest.

“No, no, you’ve been here longer,” Eddie argues.

“LAFD isn’t exactly a hierarchy of seniority,” you point out. “Besides, I’m more inclined to spray water on problems. You’ve got the experience and the knowledge for this. Let me support.”

Eddie nods as he slows to enter the driveway where the 9-1-1 call originated. You follow his lead from the time he greets the caller – the mother of a young girl who’s having difficulty walking – until you leave, after the girl’s pulled tendon is iced, bandaged, and her mom has instructions on what to do.

“Great job,” you applaud as you return to the ambulance.

“Thanks,” he replies. “Couldn’t have done it without you. Never met someone so competent at bandage cutting.”

“I try.”

Your laughter mingles with Eddie’s as you return to the station, and suddenly, neither of you can remember what life was like before you met.

After you knock, you shift the bags in your hands and wait. You’re early, but you know Eddie is home. The door opens, and he smiles at you with a button-down shirt halfway on.

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out. “I’m early, but I had something I wanted to bring.”

“You’re fine,” Eddie assures you, welcoming you into his home. “Whatever that is, you shouldn’t have.”

Rolling your eyes, you wait at his side until he closes the door and leads you into his house. When you reach the kitchen, you set the bag on the counter and look around. His home is cute and homey if a little empty and noticeably missing a woman’s touch.

“It’s not much,” you say when you realize Eddie is watching you. “Just some food. You can put them in the freezer, warm them up whenever you want.” You stop, nodding awkwardly as Eddie continues staring. “Or throw them away,” you add, “your choice.”

“Thank you,” he says. “And I won’t be throwing them away, though I appreciate the opportunity to choose.”

“You’re so annoying,” you groan, not meaning it at all.

“Dad?” Christopher calls as he comes down the hall.

Eddie tugs his shirt down, smiling at his son.

“Hey, pal,” Eddie says, kneeling to tidy Christopher’s clothes. “You look nice.”

“Your shirt’s off.”

Eddie smiles as you chuckle, then he looks toward you. “Christopher, this is the friend I was telling you about.”

Your smile falls upon learning that Eddie told his son about you, but when Christopher turns to say hello, you don’t have to think about smiling at him. He’s already the sweetest kid you’ve ever met, and when he makes jokes that remind you of his dad’s somewhat dry sense of humor, he somehow becomes cuter.

“I can put these in the freezer while you finish, if you want,” you offer, pointing over your shoulder toward the food.

Eddie nods as buttons his shirt, directing Christopher to take a seat so he can comb his hair quickly.

“You brought food?” Christopher asks.

“I did,” you reply as you move into their kitchen. “I didn’t know what you liked, so I made a few things mine and your dad’s friends at the fire station enjoy.”

“Are you a good cook? Will it taste good?”

“Christopher,” Eddie chides quietly.

“It’s a fair question,” you point out. “I wouldn’t say I’m great, but no one has complained yet.”

“That’s good,” Christopher muses.

“Guess where we’re going,” Eddie encourages.

“Last time you said we were going somewhere fun, it- it was Target,” Christopher replies, squinting up at Eddie as he stands.

“Target is pretty fun,” you interject.

Eddie points at you in agreement and nods before he says, “No, she’s in charge now, so it will actually be fun.”

Christopher and Eddie both look at you, so you press your hands against the counter and murmur, “That’s a lot of pressure.”

“You know, I’ve never been to Universal with my other friends,” you muse as you wait for a car to pass in the parking garage.

“And I’ve never had a friend bring me food or give me first responder discount advice,” Eddie counters. “Or met someone that could give Christopher such a fun experience that he falls asleep in the middle of a sentence.”

You glance in the rearview mirror, smiling at the sleeping boy in your backseat. Eddie had carried him through CityWalk, drawing lots of looks and coos from passing women. He either didn’t notice them or was too interested in your conversation about where you grew up to care. Either way, you’re honoured to be his friend and to be worthy of such attention.

“I know you’ve got a busy week with unpacking and post-academy stuff,” you say as you merge onto the freeway. “So, if you need anything, let me know.”

You’re back at your apartment when you realize there’s a twenty-dollar bill and a sticky note in one of your cupholders. Eddie just couldn’t let you pay for parking.

A week after your impromptu trip to CityWalk, Eddie approaches you with a proposition. The problem, he realizes quickly, is that he isn’t sure what exactly he’s proposing.

“I want to take you to dinner to thank you for all your help, everything you’ve done,” he explains. “But I don’t really want to leave Christopher with a sitter, and he’s gotten so comfortable at the house, so…”

“You don’t have to get me anything to say thanks,” you reply, smiling. “We’re friends, Eddie.”

“I want to.”

“Then,” you pause to think, then finish, “order me a pizza.”

Eddie considers the idea for a moment, then smiles. “I’ll order a pizza, but you have to come share it with me and Christopher. He’s been asking about you.”

“Eddie-“

“I know I don’t have to,” he says for you. “Please?”

It doesn’t take much to convince you, apparently, because his big brown eyes and soft murmur lead you to agree. As if you could tell him no, you think, startled by your own inner voice.

A few hours later, you’re knocking on Eddie’s door. Christopher opens it, smiling up at you as he says hello. Immediately, he pulls you into a hypothetical conversation about how animals communicate with each other. Over pizza, you talk to Christopher about anything and everything he can come up with, laughing and smiling while Eddie sits beside you. He watches you and Christopher, failing to identify the feeling blooming in his chest. When it’s time for you to go home, he has a sudden desire to take your hand and ask you to stay.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” you say as he walks you to your car. “Maybe we should try to communicate with our eyes only, like giraffes.”

“Nash would love that,” Eddie agrees, though he knows it isn’t hard to tell what you’re thinking by looking at your eyes – which he does often.

You raise your brows, and Eddie smiles at the look in your eyes.

“Already working,” you muse as you open your door.

“Drive safe,” Eddie says. “Text me when you get home?”

“Of course. Goodnight, Eddie.”

Days after your shared dinner, you get a chance to have another conversation with Eddie. He’s under a truck, trying to figure out why its wheels aren’t turning properly to the left, but at least you can talk for more than two minutes about something that isn’t call-related.

“And?” you ask when Eddie trails off while telling you about a project Christopher did for school. “How’d he do?”

“He made an A, the kids loved it,” he says before grunting. “Wish I could get that kind of popularity with popsicle sticks.”

“Well, you’ve got the Diaz smile to go with it.”

Eddie moves his leg to kick you, his touch gentle as he laughs. He begins to push himself out from under the truck when the ground shakes. You throw your arms out to catch yourself against the side of the ambulance, but the movement doesn’t stop when you attempt to right yourself.

“Earthquake!” someone yells.

Someone says it must be a six or seven magnitude, but you’re focused on getting out from under the rafters and lights above you. Reaching down, you pull Eddie’s ankle, then take his hands and backpedal to the corner. He stands from the lying board and pushes you farther into the corner, sheltering you with his body until the shaking finally subsides. The station is a wreck, but you know that the city is probably in worse shape, and you have mere seconds until the calls begin.

“Are you okay?” Eddie asks. When you don’t answer right away, he steps back and places a large hand behind your neck, tipping your face toward his. “Are you okay?” he repeats urgently.

“I’m okay,” you promise, laying your fingers on his forearm below his tattoo. “Are you?”

Eddie nods, keeping his hands on you until Nash begins yelling about a collapsed hotel.

“Is Christopher at school?” you ask quietly.

“He is. I’ll send his teacher a text to check on him.”

Eddie spreads his hand against your back as you rush to the truck and ambulance, preparing yourself for a long day. You try to text your friends and family, but there’s no service.

“Are you okay?” Buck asks.

You lift your head and realize he’s talking to Eddie. Eddie says he doesn’t have service, shaking his head as he looks at you. Your heart feels like it drops at the news that he can’t check on Christopher.

“Who are you trying to get a hold of?” Buck inquires.

“My son,” Eddie answers.

“Whoa, you have a kid?” Buck exclaims.

“Oh, right, we waited until Buckley left to get to know Eddie,” Hen says into her mic, mostly to mess with Buck.

“Is he at school?” Buck asks Eddie. “They’ve got earthquake procedures, I’m sure he’s fine.”

Eddie nods, and for once, he avoids looking at you.

The hotel becomes visible a moment later, leaning out over the street with its structural components made visible past the broken windows and shattered cement. Your team exits the truck with their eyes up, intimidated by the job but mentally finding routes to get inside and get people out. You think about going inside once, but immediately remember Christopher is at school, probably scared of his first earthquake.

“Have you ever dealt with something like this?” Eddie asks.

“No,” you answer with Nash.

You stay by Eddie while Nash talks to the incident commander, but you don’t listen to what she says, only your racing thoughts and the groaning steel before you.

“Okay, listen up,” Nash says, succeeding in drawing your attention for the first time since you got out of the truck. “Here’s how you make it to the end of the day: you don’t worry about the things that you can’t do anything about, focus on one task at a time. I can’t order you guys to go inside that building, and I’m not gonna judge you if you decide not to.”

“Hen,” Chimney begins, “you got a kid, so…”

“Yeah,” she agrees. “And I’d hope if someone whose job it was to save him had the chance, they’d do it. No matter what.”

You know Hen is right. You also know that Eddie is just as scared as you are but won’t leave.

“Where do you want us?” Eddie asks.

A police officer runs up behind you and beckons your team, but you don’t move. Nash steps toward you and lays his hand on your shoulder.

“I meant it,” he says. “I’m not judging you for leaving.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

“I’m not. You’re doing what’s most important to you, and to someone you care about. But roads are going to be mayhem and you’re too far from the station to get your car easily regardless.”

“Yeah, I’ve got a plan for that.”

Nash smiles and shakes you gently. “Of course you do, kid. We’ll see you on the other side of this.”

He drops his hand and steps around you before you spin and call his name.

“You better see me on the other side,” you demand. “All of you.”

Nash salutes you, and you return to the truck to leave as much gear as you can. Left in your base layers, you slide your phone, your ID, and your keys into your pocket before you push through the crowd gathered around the hotel to start running.

Behind you, Nash joins your team on the street to survey a man in need of saving. Eddie notices he’s alone and looks over his shoulder.

“We’re down a player,” Nash says. “And she’s expecting us to come home, alright?”

Eddie doesn’t get a chance to ask where you went before he and Buck hatch a plan to reach the man above them.

It takes you three times as long as it should to run the few miles from the hotel to Christopher’s school. All of the students are gathered in the gymnasium and on the baseball field, and your heart beats faster as you move through the crowd of kids and scared parents. The elevated heart rate isn’t from the run but from your concern. Christopher is important to you, and his dad grows more special to you each day. When you know Christopher is safe, you’ll shift your worry to his dad, and this day will seem like an eternity, so you have to stay focused on one task at a time, just like Nash said, and only think about what you can do something about. Like finding Christopher, which proves easy when someone yells your name, and his bright smile brings you to your knees before you hug him tightly against your chest.

The first thing Eddie does when he returns to the truck is check his phone. There are three messages from you: the first is an apology for leaving, the second is an assurance that Christopher is okay, and the third lets him know that you took Christopher home. After the pizza night that has become a defining moment in your relationship, Eddie gave you a key. It’s what friends do, he had told himself. Now he’s not so sure that was the real reason.

He pushes that out of his mind and accepts Buck’s invitation for a ride. When he reaches his front door, he unlocks it and steps inside, expecting to be greeted by Christopher’s easy smile and a relieved look in your eyes. Instead, he sees you lying on his couch, your eyes closed peacefully, and Christopher lying comfortably against you, fast asleep.

Eddie places his hands on the back of the couch and leans back, stretching his arms as he sighs. I’m home, he thinks. Then, he realizes that he’s never thought of this place as home before tonight.

“Eddie?” you ask, opening your eyes slowly. “Eddie.”

Your eyes fly open then, and Eddie drops one hand to lay on your shoulder as he leans over the couch.

“We’re all okay,” he promises.

You check your phone, see one new message, and then move carefully, standing as Christopher burrows deeper against the couch cushions in his sleep. Smiling down at him, you don’t regret leaving your team because you trust them, and they’re safe.

“I’m sorry if I overstepped,” you say.

Eddie pulls you into his arms, hugging you tightly as he murmurs, “Thank you.”

You return the hug, wrapping your arms around his waist and exhaling.

“You’re on his pickup list,” Eddie reminds you, “so no overstepping.”

Nodding against him, you think about how tired you are. You could fall asleep in his arms without much effort, but you force yourself to step back and gather your things.

“I’ll see you later, Eddie,” you say. “Tell Christopher I said goodnight.”

“Wait, how are you getting home?” he asks, stepping toward the door with you.

“Buck’s waiting; he can take me.”

“Oh. Yeah, yeah. Goodnight, and thank you again.”

“Of course.”

Eddie watches the door close behind you, and this house doesn’t feel quite so much like home anymore. Oh, he realizes, I wasn’t thinking about the house. He should have seen it sooner: the piece of himself he thought was missing, what he thought he couldn’t get back after the divorce, or when he left Texas, it’s you. You made him feel like part of the team, like a good friend, but there’s more now. You make Eddie Diaz whole. And he didn’t notice until after you walked out.

“I only need one more chance,” he whispers as he locks the front door. He exhales heavily, then asks himself, “How do I make sure I don’t blow it?”

It takes three days of working together before Eddie has an opportunity that he actually takes. During those three days, he is constantly aware of how he feels. When you’re at his side, when you’re working, when he’s not sure if you’re okay, every situation brings a different thought, a different emotion into his heart and mind. You were separated briefly during a house fire call when the car in the garage exploded while you’d been in the backyard getting the family’s dog. For the next five minutes, your team fought the growing fire with no radio transmission from you. You jogged down the street then, panting and carrying the dog inside your turnout gear. Eddie wanted nothing more than to pull you into his arms, tell you that he needs you, and never let you go. But the raging fire took precedence.

Today, your 48-hour shift ends at a decent hour, and you go home, shower, and make dinner before the sun sets. While you do that, Eddie paces in his house, wondering how he can tell you that you make him feel whole, that you make life promising and full for him. Eventually, Christopher tells Eddie he’s surpassed his 10,000 steps, and he has an idea.

You’re sitting on your couch watching TV when your phone rings. After you pause the show, you answer Eddie’s call and immediately ask, “Are you okay? Is Christopher?”

On the other end of the line, Eddie laughs. “Can you open your door?” he replies.

“What?” you mumble, still awaiting an answer to your question.

“Open the door, please?”

You walk to your front door and pull it open, your jaw dropping at the sight. Moving without thought, you end the call and step back, letting Eddie step inside. He’s wearing a suit and tie, he has a large bouquet in his hands, and you practically have to force your jaw closed again as you close the door.

When you turn toward him, your back against the front door, he doesn’t give you a chance to speak, though you desperately want to tell him how good he looks. He sets the bouquet on your coffee table before he speaks.

“I need you let me talk and not say anything because if I don’t get all of this out, I’ll never say it,” he explains.

You remain silent, crossing your arms over your waist and chewing your bottom lip.

“Right,” Eddie realizes, shaking his head when he remembers you won’t answer because of what he just asked. “I realized something. When we became friends I thought it was great, because it is, but I also felt like I’d never encountered a friendship like this one. And then we went out to dinner, and you care about Christopher. Moments between us started feeling different…”

Nodding, you try to keep up with him, watching his mouth move as he speaks, rambling between his points about what he realized.

“…it’s because you’re the piece that I didn’t want to admit was missing, you make everything feel right, perfect, whole-“

You’re still nodding along with his speech but grow more concerned about whether he’s actually breathing while talking. Between what he’s saying, the fact that you’ve known you felt the same since he bought you pizza, and your worry about his lung capacity, it’s an easy decision to step forward and kiss him.

Eddie freezes when your lips meet his, your hands clutching the lapel of his blazer. Then, he melts into your touch. His hands rise, one arm circling your waist as he cups the back of your head and steps forward, caging you in against your couch as he moves with you. The kiss meant to slow him down and give him a chance to breathe takes your breath away instead.

When Eddie pulls back, keeping his hands on you like they were shaped to hold you, he looks between your eyes. “Does- does that mean you feel the same?” he wonders softly.

“Did I not say it plain enough?” you tease, bumping your nose against his. “Yes, Eddie, I feel the same.”

Eddie kisses you again, a series of quick pecks interrupted by your question, “Where’s Christopher?”

“On his way over with pizza,” Eddie says. He kisses your jaw, then adds, “Buck’s bringing him.”

“You’re welcome,” you sigh, softening beneath his touch.

Eddie lowers both hands to your waist and steps back to look at you. “We should probably stop referring to each other as friends now.”

“Whatever you say,” you agree, smiling.

Eddie rolls his eyes at your playful tone before he pushes his hands over your hips and then up the length of your back, kissing your neck when you tip your head up. You kiss him again, then step back.

“I got that ice cream Christopher told me about,” you say. “Let me make sure I have enough for all of us.”

Eddie watches you, the lovesickness he felt in his chest before now evident in the smile on his face. Buck pulls up outside and taps the horn, so Eddie leaves your house to go get Christopher.

“About time, man,” Buck sighs when Eddie pulls the back door open.

“You didn’t even like me when we met,” Eddie points out.

“Yeah, but I saw how she looked at you. Do her right, man.”

“I will. Thanks for everything, Buck.”

“Your son tips better than you.”

Buck smiles at Christopher, who laughs. Eddie thinks he probably doesn’t want to know what they talked about on the way over.

“Can I help?” you ask, standing on the sidewalk behind Eddie. You don’t wait for an answer before you lift the pizza boxes from Buck’s passenger seat and thank him softly.

“Be careful, kids!” Buck calls before he drives away.

Eddie shows Christopher around your house, then tells him to sit on the couch while he helps you. Alone in the kitchen, you steal one more kiss. Eddie was a great friend and continues to be a great teammate, but this is even better than the life you thought you wanted.

[marshymallo]

temperature play but it’s just me running between the hot kitchen (with no ac), the walk-in freezer, and the normal-ish temp dining room at work

[one-of-us-must-be-crazy]

While you'd think the relationship would have moved at a truly glacial pace, once together, it's only eh....five or six months before Samuels comes back to their flat with an actual honest-to-god engagement ring. Logically, they're living together, they've exchanged words of intentions for this to be a long term relationship, so he figures he should do this the proper human way.

Unfortunately, Amanda balks at the concept of being/engaged/ because what the fuck, Chris, (not counting cryo) I haven't known you for a year yet??? Poor thing assumes her distaste is because he grossly misread their situation and his place in her life. She has to stress to him that it's not him, not the color of his blood ("Amy, it's not really blood,") just that its awfully fast. Its enough to calm him down but he's still embarrassed, and then the horror of having to return the ring occurs to him and--

"Why would you return it?"

"You said--"

"Hold on to it, for a little while." She never wanted to be anyone's wife, anyone's mother, anyone's possession...But if anyone on the planet would understand the hesitation she had with commitment, it would be the man she helped carve company logos out his fingerprints.

"Do you mean it?"

It breaks her heart, the way he's beaming at her like she actually accepted instead of requesting an extension, but his sheer /joy/ is infectious. He's like her, so very dry and to the point, their shared sense of humor is subtle, sarcastic, and often dark--yet she cracks, and she's giggling. Samuels can't laugh: almost no synthetic can by design, it's too complex of a biological process to bother mimicking but she knows if he could, he'd be joining her.

He over thinks how long "a while" is and goes through a monthly crisis, takes to carrying the ring in his coat, but never asking out of fear it hasn't been long enough. Amanda finds it there one day about four months later, while looking for a missing key. Christopher finds her sitting on the bedroom floor, glassy eyed, coat over her knees, twisting the ring around (of course it fits perfectly he probably laser measured her hands)

"If...you want, you can keep it on." Amanda nods slowly, the realization of the 'yes' sinking in belatedly she she has to stand shakily to hug him. Tightly.

[iydiamartinx]

ALWAYS WITHIN REACH

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

divider by: cafekitsune & omi-resources word count: 1.3k synopsis: Jason Todd doesn’t love loudly but he shows it with his constant presence and actions. a/n: To my anon who requested this, I love you and I loved writing this, but this made me feel so single. I need a man like Jason 😭

The first time you noticed it—really noticed it—was when you were heading out to grab a coffee.

You’d only grabbed your keys and a hoodie, ready to walk the two blocks to the corner store. The weather was mild, the streets quiet, and you hadn’t planned on being gone more than fifteen minutes. As you crouched to tie your laces, yawning mid-sentence, you called out lazily, “I’m gonna go grab a coffee. Want anything?”

Jason was sprawled across the couch, one arm thrown over his eyes, blanket twisted around his legs. He’d groaned not five minutes ago about needing a nap and you figured he’d be out cold by now.

But then you heard the couch creak. He was sitting up.

“I’ll come with you.”

You blinked. “You just said—”

“I’ll drive.” He was already pushing to his feet, reaching for his keys like it wasn’t up for debate.

You stared, baffled. “Jay, I’m literally going across the street.”

He didn’t seem to hear you—or more likely, chose not to. Shirt half-buttoned, boots barely tied, he grabbed his jacket in one hand and your fingers in the other, dragging you gently toward the door. You didn’t argue, mostly because you were still sleepy and not quite ready to match his brand of  stubborn.

The drive took three minutes. He didn’t say much, just rested one hand on the wheel and the other on your thigh, thumb brushing slow, absent circles against your skin like he needed the contact more than the caffeine. Even when he pulled up to the drive-thru window, when you took the drink with a grateful smile and settled back in your seat, Jason didn’t let go. He shifted the wheel easily with one hand, the other still anchored to you, thumb still stroking your skin. 

You didn’t think much of it at the time.

The next time it happened, it was at the grocery store.

You were pushing the cart down an aisle while Jason trailed just behind, his hand warm and steady on the small of your back. It stayed there for most of the trip—absentminded, comforting. Sometimes he’d give a gentle nudge when you paused too long comparing brands, or he’d slide his fingers up your spine for no reason at all except to feel you there.

At one point, somewhere between the produce section and the towering shelves of canned goods, Jason muttered that he needed more protein powder. His voice was low and distracted, already halfway turned toward the far end of the store. He didn’t look back, thinking you were following but instead, you nodded vaguely and veered off toward the ice cream aisle, figuring you could cover more ground that way. 

You moved slowly, eyes scanning the frosty rows of half-gallons and pints. The doors of the freezer hissed quietly as you opened one, cool air spilling out as your reached for two pints, debating between cookie dough and mint chocolate chip. 

You weren’t even half way through the aisle when you felt him behind you again. 

His arms sliding around your waist and wrapping you up without a word. The warmth of him sank through your hoodie, his body pressing close to yours. A moment later, the weight of his head dropped gently onto your shoulder. His breath ghosted over the curve of your neck, soft and steady, the contrast to the chilled air in front of you making your skin prickle.

Leaning back into him just a little, you tilted your head, angling for a glimpse of his face, searching for something—an explanation, maybe. But all you found was the slope of his brow pressed close to your temple, his mouth relaxed, his lashes lowered like he might stay there forever if you let him.

“You okay?” you murmured.

He gave the smallest of nods, the movement brushing his cheek against yours. You stayed like that for a moment longer, Eventually, your fingers drifted toward the freezer door again, and you began to move. His arms loosened, but just enough to let you walk without pulling fully away. One of his hands slid down, fingers catching yours, while his other reached for the cart, reclaiming it without comment, guiding it forward to where you wanted to go.

And that’s when you started to see the pattern.

Jason always walked on the side closest to the street, his body subtly shifting until you were on the inside of the sidewalk, sheltered from traffic. Every single time. Even if it meant cutting mid-conversation to switch sides, or gently tugging you across with a hand to your waist or a brush of fingers against your wrist. It didn’t matter how casual the outing—he’d never let you walk street-side.

He held doors open without thinking, reaching out before you could even touch the handle. And whenever you were out together, his hand was never far. Sometimes laced through yours like second nature, your fingers intertwined as you walked in step. Other times, it rested lightly on the small of your back, guiding you through doorways, around corners, through crowds. 

He insisted on coming with you for errands. Always. It didn’t matter how mundane the task or how quick the trip—Jason was already pulling on his jacket before you finished asking, sometimes you didn’t even have to. And he never complained. Not once. Didn’t check his phone or sigh impatiently. He carried the bags. He waited while you debated between brands of ice cream. Even standing in line, he’d hook a finger through your belt loop and tug you back against him, chin on your shoulder, arms looped loosely around your waist as you two waited.

At gas stations, he always got out with you—even if all you were doing was grabbing gum and a drink. He filled the tank, too, waving off your protests with a quiet, “I got it.” In bookstores, he trailed behind you with a hand on your back, the other juggling the growing stack of titles you kept passing him with a sheepish smile. He never complained about those either. 

In crowded spaces, his arm always found its way around your waist or over your shoulders, pulling you into his side without a word.

And when you ran into people you knew—coworkers, old classmates, friends of friends—he didn’t interrupt or try to charm them. He didn’t puff up or shrink away, instead he seemed content to speak when spoken to. Otherwise he was content to stand at your side. One hand stayed low on your back, rubbing soothing circles.

They often stared at him warily—he was hard not to notice, after all. Tall, sharp-jawed, rough-edged. And yet, despite how intimidating everyone else found him, Jason was soft with you. Protective, yes. But never overbearing. He didn’t tell you what to do or try to keep you in a box made of fear. He just wanted to stay close.

It was subtle, but constant. And the truth was…you kind of loved it.

He was protective in the kind of way that didn’t feel like a cage—it felt like shelter. Like he needed to keep you close not because he didn’t trust you or because he thought you were weak. He stayed close because he knew what the world could be like. He didn’t want to control you. He just didn’t want to lose you.

And maybe that was it. Maybe that was why, no matter where you were or what you were doing, you never had to reach far to find him. In a room full of people, he was there. Even in sleep, he found you. Always.

Because while the world knew Jason as the Red Hood—fearless, violent, deadly—you knew this version. The one who always held your hand, who never let you walk alone, whose constant presence promised you that he was always there for you.

And in the spaces between who he was and how the world saw him, you found the truth of him. A man who had lived through hell, and loved you like it was his personal vow.

[beeschmee]

first date fantasies

pairing: caleb x fem!reader word count: 1.5k cw: MDNI, 18+, jealous caleb has a vivid imagination, fingering, grinding, orgasm denial, pent-up reader, masturbation, light grinding notes: possessive colonel caleb is deadly, but a jealous flight student caleb? give him to me on a silver platter, please. not proofread, as per usual. might write another part to this, not sure yet. let me know what you guys think? c: |ao3

thinking about caleb listening to you ramble on about how nervous you are to go on your first date and how nothing in your closet looks right on you. your cereal goes soggy in the bowl in front of you as your hands fidget in your lap. reassuring compliments and teases escape his mouth on auto-pilot, trying to ease your anxiety.

the fork in his hand bends ever so slightly as he jabs it into the freezer-burned stack of pancakes that he microwaved just a bit too long, too distracted with preparing your coffee to stop it early.

his knuckles whiten as he promises that everything will go fine, that you won't embarrass yourself, and that your date will love you. if they didn’t, they’d be crazy. 

if they did, they’d be dead. 

the thought passes through him so suddenly he almost misses it, but the feeling that sticks in his heart feels like poisonous tar, dredging through his veins, threatening to pull him under.

it’s unsettling, but familiar. you always brought out this side in him. 

he doesn’t say anything more, he doesn’t get the chance to before you burst up from your chair, crying out that you should’ve started getting ready seven and a half minutes ago. so specific; he adores it. 

you beg him to clean up your plate, promising to pick up his favorite snacks on your way home so you guys can have a movie night, and run off to your room. 

he doesn’t bother you for the rest of the day. he doesn’t barge into your room demanding you walk to the store with him. he doesn’t tease you through the bathroom door as you use up all the hot water. he doesn’t even text you little memes when he could walk down the hallway to show you.

he does stay away, at least to your knowledge.

he doesn’t want to stress you out when you’re already so high strung with butterflies and nerves that aren’t for him. instead, he pauses every time he passes your door, listening to you rambling to one of your friends over the phone over which outfit looks cuter. he imagines you holding up that floral dress he made sure you knew looked amazing on you, your lip caught between your teeth, contemplating it.

when you finally go to shower in the bathroom in between your two rooms, he leans against the wall, his ear glued to it. your voice is faint as you sing offkey to your newest playlist. 

he imagines you in the shower, carefully dancing in place so you don’t slip, your hands lathering your body in that apple scented soap of caleb’s.

marking yourself with his scent before seeing another man has his blood rushing downward feverishly.

just the thought has his heart racing, the thick bile of jealousy burning in his chest receding bit by bit.

in his room, he lifts the hem of his shirt up to his wet lips and bites down. his hands trace down his chest to the drawstring of his sweatpants, imagining the way his soap would glide down your figure. the thought has him clenching his teeth as he reaches under his pants, grabbing his hardening length. 

fantasies of you showering for him, scrubbing yourself down and dressing up all cutesy just to impress him, play in his mind.

his hand works deftly up and down his shaft, squeezing the base whenever he feels himself getting too excited by the thought of you wearing that white lingerie set he’d seen while doing laundry.

the lace frill perfectly framing those enticing dips in your hips. the little heart cut-out on the front just begging his lips to find their way home to your exposed skin.

your singing is louder now, blending into his daydreams of you bent over the sink, applying makeup with your perky ass up in the air, shaking to the beat of the music.

a groan slips through his lips, his t-shirt muffling his pitiful desire for you as his hand focuses on that sweet spot under his tip.

he’d enter the bathroom, despite you telling him to wait until you were done, his hands gravitating to your skin, your hips, your ass. god, he can imagine the way you’d blush at his touch as he pressed into you, showing you just how excited he was for your date.

the thought of you grinding back into him as he nipped at your neck, licking a rogue water droplet up, his hands reaching around to wrap around your hips. he’d tell you to ignore him, that you couldn’t be late for the dinner reservation he made, and to keep getting ready. 

you’d be flustered, maybe even annoyed at his antics, but you would listen. you always did.

he’d whisper sweet praises in your ear at every step, his thumbs rubbing circles on your stomach as you greedily pressed your ass against his bulge. your movement would be awkward, your instincts working against your logic.

his hand would ghost down towards the bottom of that floral dress resting on your thighs, before pulling the fabric up as his fingertips trace up your inner thigh. 

you’d freeze and he’d remind you how little time was left before you both had to leave to make it to the restaurant in time. he’d stop his pursuit until you continued brushing blush onto the apples of your cheek. 

he’d reward you then, his fingers reaching the apex between your thighs and tracing lightly over the fabric growing wetter by the second.

oh how he’d want to tease you, bully you for being so needy, but you’re turning into putty in his hand with every light rub of his thumb over your clothed clit. he’d never go under your panties, not before your first date, he had some self control. 

no, instead he’ll get you right up to the point that your whimpering in the palm of his hand for more pressure, more contact, more of him. he’d get you right to the point of falling over before clicking his tongue, telling you it was time to leave.

he’d walk away then, leaving you desperate and bothered in the bathroom as he goes to grab his car keys, telling you to meet him in the garage in five minutes. 

for the rest of the night, he’d make sure to touch you lightly whenever he could: his fingertips playing with the ends of your hair as you walk, his feet rubbing your ankles under the table during dinner, his knuckles grazing your chest as he zips his jacket up on you after you complain about how chilly it is. 

anything he can do to ensure your frustration stays simmering right below the surface until you’re brave enough to touch him back. until your hands are tracing his biceps as he drives you both home, mesmerized with the veins raised just above the surface, not knowing it’s because of his tight grip on the wheel. until you’re crawling onto his lap on the couch when he suggests ending the night on a movie before bed, begging him to finish what he started. 

he’d make sure he did this time as his fingers slip past that white lace, sinking into your dripping cunt.

the shower turns off right in time for caleb’s orgasm to rip through his body, lightning shooting down his spine as shoots his load all over his chest. the shirt stuffed in his mouth silences the way he moans your name like a true sinner. 

aftershocks ripple through his body as he strokes himself sensitive, his cock red and twitching in his hand as the visions of you riding his fingers fade from his mind. 

reality was a cruel enemy, stepping back in to remind him what he couldn’t have. not yet, he always tagged on. the real you wasn’t dolling yourself up in the next room for him. you weren’t pulling that lace up your legs in the hopes he may catch a glimpse of it if the night goes a certain way. 

another man was going to see this version of you tonight. unworthy eyes were going to trail down your body the second you open that front door for him later. caleb can’t even imagine those filthy hands testing how far you’d let them touch you, surely pushing past your comfort zone too early. 

so, he’ll make sure they don’t. 

at the thought, he’s dressed in the blink of an eye, making sure to grab an old cap, sunglasses, and a mask before he’s racing out the door. he knocks on the bathroom to let you know he’s leaving, telling you to keep him updated on when you leave and where you go. you roll your eyes at how parental he sounds. 

it didn’t matter whether you did or didn’t, your location was pinged on his phone at all times, unbeknownst to you. 

he was going to make sure everything possible went wrong tonight, then he’d be waiting at home for you to fall right into his open arms. it’d been a while since he’d seen your tear-stricken face, and the image of it had heat boiling in his abdomen.

if you couldn’t be his tonight, you damn sure weren’t going to be someone else’s...

[starlightsalvatore]

hunger / damon salvatore x reader

i'm back !!! I needed to write a damon one-shot while I work on a new fic and this just tumbled right out of me lol

hunger / damon salvatore x reader

word count: 3.1k

warnings: everything??? drinking, swearing, blood sharing, oral (m and f receiving), unprotected p-in-v, a tiny bit of degradation?? this is self indulgant filth, seriously 18+ mdni

You ran a hand through your hair as you walked back and forth, unsure of what else to do with the restless energy surging through your system as you tried to fight one of your most basic, primal urges… hunger. Your fingers drummed against your thigh as you tried to focus on anything else, find something in your brain worth occupying your mind and switching course from the visuals running through your head. Your recent transition had been a shock to everyone, and Stefan had you on a tight leash to keep you in check… and you’d been on board, at first. You never wanted to cause harm, to be the reason someone else’s life ended, but with the itch in your veins threatening to undo you completely you couldn’t really find it in you to care anymore.

You heard your door push open and your head snapped up to see Damon walking in, two glasses and a bottle in his hand with an unamused expression, “if you don’t knock it off I’m going to have to replace the floor,” he said, setting everything on the dresser before pouring two generous cups of bourbon. 

“Not now, Damon,” you sighed, ignoring him entirely as your feet remained on course.

“Wanna talk about it?” he asked and you shook your head.

“Not really,” you said as he shoved a glass in your hand, his eyes telling you to drink which you did… all in one gulp and he was a little surprised as he took it to refill. 

“Well, something’s gotta give,” he replied as you finished the second as quickly as the first. “At this rate the bottle will be gone in a minute and I’m not replacing original flooring.” He gripped your shoulders, halting your movements and you huffed, looking up at him.

“I’m hungry, Damon,” you said, as if it pained you to do so and he furrowed his brow.

“The freezer is full- oh,” he cut himself off, realizing that’s not what you meant as a smirk spread across his features. “You want your blood at 98.6,” he said and you rolled your eyes, pushing him off you.

“Will you cut it out?” You poured another glass, hoping at some point the alcohol would subdue your cravings but you knew that was about as likely as him leaving you alone, so you tried another angle. “I can’t… Damon, the blood bags aren’t doing it for me, I can’t think, I can’t sleep… will you please take me out?” For a moment you thought he’d say yes, revel in the opportunity to feed with abandon with someone else, but it wasn’t that easy.

“No can do, sweetheart,” he replied and your brows pinched. “I’ve got enough on my plate without you losing control and giving me more bodies to deal with.” He was right, there was too much going on and you spinning out wasn’t an option, but that didn’t make it any easier of an answer to tolerate. He gave you a once over, it wasn’t as if he didn’t want to take you out… he would have loved to, but you were new and he knew you could eventually get to where he was, one day you’d be able to feed and leave them alive with no memory of what had happened, but that day wasn’t today, you had a long way to go and he couldn’t afford to have you slip up.

But… he couldn’t afford to have you slip up. One look told him you were wound tight, the diet Stefan had you on was restrictive, never enough to fully satisfy, and the less you drank the tighter you spun, threatening a catastrophic snap he could only assume was looming on the horizon with how frustrated you looked right now. He ran through his options, knowing letting you sit in this hunger any longer would result in a much bigger problem, but the only thing he could think of posed another set of issues and would lead to him teetering on the edge instead of you.

He let out a sigh, closing the distance between you and plucking the glass from your hands to discard on the dresser and you looked up at him questioningly, the invasion of space catching you by surprise. His normally bright eyes were dark and swimming with something you couldn’t understand, deep blue pools you found yourself getting lost in as you waited for him to say something. “You need to feed,” he said and your eyes fluttered shut just at the thought.

“I need to feed,” you whispered and he nodded, catching your chin between his fingers and forcing your head back up when you tried to look down and the action had your breath catching somewhere in your throat. 

“You still haven’t felt it, have you?” he asked, voice low and you shuddered. “What it’s like to sink your teeth into something…” you shook your head, Stefan hadn’t allowed you to drink anything that didn’t come from a cup. “Poor thing,” he chuckled, he could feel the tension radiating off you in waves, you were practically shaking beneath him as you fought to retain your grip on your sanity, on your control.

“Damon,” you sighed, eyes pleading and he just smiled as he gripped your hand and brought it up to his neck, the pulse beneath your fingers driving you wild. 

“When you feed you have to be careful… if you bite just along here,” he said, dragging your fingers along the vein, “you can control the flow. It doesn’t have to be messy,” he explained and you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the subtle way his skin moved with each beat of his heart, the sight bringing the veins beneath your eyes to the surface, your fangs descending.

“Don’t fight it,” he said, noticing you trying to rein it in, and you were having a hard time focusing on anything with the way his hands were trailing up your arms, pulling you closer. “Go on,” he tilted his head just slightly, “give it a try.” he encouraged and this pulled your focus, eyes snapping to his as you tried to ascertain if he was being serious. You had a lot left to learn, but blood sharing was personal, and you knew that… but all you saw in those dark blue eyes was a fire simmering beneath the surface you were sure was a mirror image of your own.

You slowly reached onto your tiptoes, as if he were a deer in the woods threatening to startle and bolt, but the closer you got the harder it was to resist, anticipation burning through your veins at the prospect of giving in. Your fangs were tentative as they broke the skin just where he’d indicated, but the first drop of blood immediately made you feel dizzy and intoxicated… It wasn't enough. You quickly grew feverish, your hand wrapping around his throat as you surged forward, crashing into the wall behind you and he let out a grunt as his back collided with the hard surface, pinned in place as you fed.

“There you go… that’s it,” he said, leaning back as he relaxed and let you take what you needed. His arm snaked around your waist while a hand brushed the hair from your face, cradling the back of your head as warm blood radiated through your body. A soft groan fell from his lips as you drank from him, and the sound elicited an unexpected reaction from you, your hand tightening around his throat and your body pushing flush against his and despite everything in you telling you to continue, you forced yourself back knowing if you didn’t stop you’d bleed him dry. 

Your eyes were wild and satisfied as they met his, and he dragged his thumb across your bottom lip, collecting the remnants and you were almost surprised when your lips wrapped around him, ensuring you didn’t waste a single drop. His smirk returned when he felt your tongue slide across his skin, “better?” he asked and you nodded, keeping him in your mouth for maybe a second longer than you needed to. The air was charged between you, you’d just crossed a line in the sand and you wanted to push a little further, go a little farther… 

Part of him knew he should put an end to this… stop before it went any further. He knew it before he’d even offered up a vein for you, he knew as soon as he did he’d be teetering on this ledge and he didn’t have that much self control when it came to you. Perhaps, if he really analyzed the situation, he knew somewhere in the back of his mind why you’d been so worked up, he knew what you needed and instead of letting you wreak havoc on the blood cooler he let you push him against a wall and take what you wanted, he let you feed from him in the most intimate way he could think of. 

And when you were looking up at him like that, eyes mischievous and holding an unspoken challenge with his blood still on your plump lips, who was he to resist? Your chest was heaving with anticipation as you waited for him to do something, anything, and the movement was so fast you almost didn’t register his hand curling around your throat, flipping you around and slamming you against the wall with such force you were sure you’d be dead if you were human. Your gasp of surprise was swallowed by his mouth on yours, searing and frenzied as he connected your lips and kissed you with a hunger that rivaled your own only moments ago. 

You both fought for dominance, neither one of you willing to submit just yet but you were outmatched… he grabbed your wandering hands and pinned them above your head, grip so tight you whined as he kissed down your neck, biting into you the same way you’d done with him and you couldn’t help the moan that fell from your lips as he did. Your hips rolled forward and feeling his hardening length against you gave you the surge of confidence you needed to break your hands free, sliding down his chest to pull his shirt apart, buttons flying and clattering against the floor as you pushed the fabric over his shoulders. 

His lips were greedy across the expanse of your chest as he nipped and sucked the soft skin, tearing your shirt to shreds as he pulled it from you, a mess of fabric in your wake as you surged forward and pushed him into the wall opposite you, regaining your upper hand. Glass shattered on the floor around you as the force rattled the dresser but you couldn’t find it in you to care what had broken as your hands pulled his belt free, fingers quickly undoing the button as you sank to the floor and pulled his jeans with you.

His length stood erect in front of you and you were quick to take him in your mouth, focusing your tongue on his swollen tip as your hand worked what didn’t fit, and you couldn’t help but moan around him at the groan that fell from his lips, “such a good girl,” he cooed, his sweet words undercut by the harsh hand in your hair gripping and pulling you closer, forcing you to gag around him and the sensation had his head falling back against the wall. Tears sprung to your eyes at the sharp pain in your scalp and the way he was hitting the back of your throat, but all you could focus on was the throbbing between your thighs and he didn’t miss the way you clenched them together, desperate for friction. 

You were quickly on your back, too caught up in the moment to bother moving to the bed and you pushed glass aside as he settled between your legs, tearing your underwear off and diving in like a man starved and you could feel his smirk against you at your surprised moan, head hitting the floor as your back arched in pleasure. He switched between your clit and your entrance, not giving either attention long enough to give you what you really needed, and you whined as your fingers threaded through his hair, tugging harshly.

“Damon, please,” you sighed, hips bucking against his face and he focused his attention on your sensitive bundle of nerves, tongue expertly working you up as you shamelessly moaned his name. Somewhere in the back of your mind you knew with the way you kept slamming each other against walls and the floor, the breaking glass, and the sounds falling from both your lips someone might come to make sure you were alright, but you couldn’t find it in you to care… not when he felt as good as he did between your legs. 

Your moan changed in pitch when he slid two fingers into your entrance and it went straight to his cock, his head swimming as he watched you come close to falling apart above him. When he crooked his fingers just so your grip in his hair tightened, pulling him closer as you started to grind against him, “fuck, just like-” you were cut off by your own moan when he started massaging that spot inside you, legs trembling as you careened off the ledge. His touches remained merciless as pure euphoria surged through your veins, your head cloudy as your body trembled. 

“So fucking beautiful,” he muttered against you, kissing his way up your body and you tugged him closer to reconnect your lips, tongues swirling against each other as you tasted yourself on him. His hands felt greedy and possessive as they roamed over you, gripping tight enough to leave bruises that would heal before they even had a chance to form, and it was as if neither of you could get enough. You pushed forward, tugging him up with you and all but throwing him onto the bed and his smirk was devilish as he watched you crawl on top of him.

He looked like he was about to say something but you didn’t give him the opportunity as you kissed him, rough and demanding as your hips settled above his, hand reaching between you to line him up at your entrance and you both let out groans as you took him inch by inch. The stretch was sweet, filling you almost to your breaking point as you settled fully and started to roll your hips against him, shuddering at the feeling.

“Fuck,” he moaned as you started to bounce up and down, setting an unforgiving pace and you felt like you could feel him everywhere, every nerve ending radiating with fire. He sat up to wrap his arms around you, hips bucking to meet yours in a way that had your head rolling back and he took the opportunity to sink his teeth into your neck and you had never felt pleasure like this before. His hand was firm around your throat as your body shook with each thrust and soon you were boneless in his lap, only able to hold yourself upright as he drank you in. 

When he pulled back you licked along his lips, face changing at the taste of blood and he swore he’d never seen anything sexier. Neither of you was going to last much longer, not like this, and he delivered a rough smack to your ass that had you whining and rolling against him. “Oh my god,” you breathed out, letting your forehead fall against his and he smacked again, gripping the tender skin, “Damon-” you tried, but nothing would come out.

“What’s that, sweetheart?” he teased, gripping your hair and pulling you back to look at him, “oh, look at you… all cock drunk and fucked out,” he teased and you had nothing to say as a firm thrust had you seeing stars. You buried your face in his neck, fangs sinking into his skin as you felt your release barreling towards you, the mixture of blood and his steady thrusts too much to bear and a streak of red trailed down your body as you came, only able to shout his name as you cried out.

Your grip on him was maddening, pulling him right over the edge with you as you milked him for everything he had, and when you both slowed to a stop you were having a hard time catching your breath, your mind floating somewhere above you as you tried to return to your body. You felt his tongue along your chest, cleaning up your mess as you leaned back and he tried to commit the sight to memory… your hair wild, cheeks flushed, and skin dewy as blood lingered along your skin. 

You still weren’t fully with him, stuck in a haze as you felt him whisk you into his bedroom, and into the bathroom and it wasn’t until you were under the stream of water with him that you hummed contently against his lips as he kissed you softly, “there she is,” he chuckled.

His hands were delicate as they roamed you, and yours slid down the front of his chest as you looked up at him, doe eyed and happy. “That was…” you trailed off, unsure of what word to use to fully sum it up and he placed another soft kiss on your lips.

“Everything you ever dreamed of?” he provided and you laughed as you swatted his chest. 

“Hush,” you replied, feigning annoyance but you didn’t have it in you to feel anything other than bliss. The rest of your shower was spent with wandering hands and sweet kisses, a stark contrast to how rough and domineering you’d been with each other and when he pulled you into bed and wrapped himself around you, you looked up at him as your fingers trailed along his chest absentmindedly.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked, and you flushed slightly under his gaze.

“It was more than I dreamed of,” you answered, and he raised a brow in question. “I haven’t… I hadn’t done that since turning, I didn’t know it could be like that,” you explained and realization passed over his features.

“My god,” he chuckled, “no wonder you were wound so tight.” His hand on your back was comfortable, holding you tight against him as he rubbed soothingly, “we’ll go on a little trip this weekend,” he said as you rested your head on his chest.

“A trip?” 

You felt him nod, “away from all the chaos here… we’ll find you some warm bodies and I’ll teach you how to do it the right way, you don’t have to live a life of blood bags forever.” 

“I don’t know, you seemed to do the trick,” you teased and he laughed.

“Sweetheart, you have no idea what you’re missing.” 

[smiteswrites]

A Different Kind of Pain - Blueberry Pancakes

Description: After losing a gem of a next door neighbor, Jack worries what the new resident will be like. Instead of a young obnoxious college kid, he meets you. Instantly struck by your warm nature (and good looks but he won't admit to that), Jack finds himself drawn to you in a way he hasn't experienced in years.

A/N: hi all! I’ve been having a rough week and writing the second part to this series has been uhm- not happening. I really want to do it justice, so I’m taking my time and waiting for when I have the capacity to do well. But! I don’t want to abandon this series because I love it, so have this little blurb/idea I had for these two a while back. I imagine this takes place maybe a month or so after when the first part ends. I hope you all enjoy!

You can tell Jack has been having a bad week. After your first walk together you take advantage of the ice being broken and start texting him on occasion. Just to check in, be friendly. How was your day off? He tells you about getting drinks with Robby, or his never ending list of chores and errands.

Or if it was nice out, and his truck was still in the drive when you got home: Going for a walk in 10 if you want to join.

Sometimes you’d make too much food, or bake cookies and don’t want to eat all of them alone. So you drop containers off by his door on your way out the door for when he gets home: Had extra pasta from last night, left you some.

Jack asks about you too of course, checking in about how research is going, making sure you’re taking proper care of yourself. You’re always quick to reassure him that things are going well. Even if research often leaves you frustrated to the point of tears, and you come home exhausted and then can’t sleep, and you can’t find the time to cook, so you live off whatever you can whip up for less than $5 dollars in under 10 minutes.

But this week is different. Jack rarely texts you back, not unusual, he is a busy man and your schedules are far from similar. What is unusual is that Jack has not once asked about your week, and instead of answering your queries has been sending one word responses. At first you think you must have done something to upset him, but after a few days of his truck being gone well before he needs to leave for shift you start putting things together.

It’s Saturday morning when you finally catch him coming home, close to 9. When you hear his truck pull in you’re quick to throw on some slippers and wander outside. You watch him come up the front steps, standing in your snoopy slippers and sweats, coffee mug in hand.

“Mornin’ Jack.”

He looks like he’s been hit by a truck. You can tell his leg and back are killing him just by the way he stands. His eyes crinkle when he gives you a tired smile, dark circles bordering on purple. “Hey kid.”

“When was your last day off?”

“I have the next two nights off, courtesy of Robby fucking with the schedule.”

“Doesn’t answer my question.”

He shrugs in response.

A beat passes, and you’re desperate to do something, anything, to show him that you care. That he isn’t on his own, or at least he doesn’t have to be.

“Well, if you’re gonna be up for a bit I was about to make pancakes.” You weren’t, but he looks like he could use some. And you doubt he has any food in his fridge by this point. “I could bring you some?”

“Yeah, I’ll be up for a bit.” He nods, hands shoved in his scrub pockets. “Only if you’ve got extra though, don’t wanna put you out sweetheart.”

“Don’t be silly, always got extra for you, Jack.”

You let him wander into his unit, presumably to shower off the grime of the ER. Shit, now you have to make pancakes.

Luckily, you have the basics: eggs, milk, butter, pancake mix. You also rummage through your freezer and find a ziplock bag with potato pancakes, a few stray breakfast sausages, and some frozen blueberries. Perfect.

Half an hour later you have a fully loaded plate, covered in foil, and a thermos of freshly brewed coffee (decaf, that you’d bought just in case you ever caught him for coffee in the morning).

You knock on his door, waiting only a few moments before he opens it.

As you suspected, he had showered and changed into sweatpants to match your own. A black worn t-shirt covers his chest, and his prosthetic had been switched for crutches.

“Made you breakfast,” you say, lifting the plate slightly in indication. “Also, coffee. It’s decaf.”

“Thanks.” You can tell his brain is slow to process, eyes locked on yours, but not making any move to take the plate. With how burnt out he must be, you aren’t shocked. You invite yourself in to put the plate and thermos on his coffee table, guessing it might be a challenge to carry both with the crutches. He doesn’t protest, watching blankly as you enter his living room.

You push down the part of you that feels giddy at being in his space, refusing to look around beyond what you need to to put the food down. You won’t take advantage of his vulnerability and overstep more than is necessary to make sure he eats.

Seeing you stand awkwardly by his couch, Jack’s brain finally catches up. “You uh- didn’t need to do all this, but thank you.”

His face betrays how touched he is, a mix of shock and gratitude. Maybe relief. This must be the first time in a long time that someone has taken care of him, rather than the other way around.

“It was nothing,” you smile. Taking a deep breath, you begin to show yourself out.

“Let me know how everything is, and then get some rest, okay?” You touch his shoulder lightly as you speak, walking past him again to stand in his doorway. “I’m here if you need anything, anything at all.”

“I will, go eat your food, kid.” And if Jack has a lump in his throat from how good it feels to be checked in on, no he doesn’t.

You leave him be, returning to your own plate of cheesy eggs, sausage, and blueberry pancakes drenched in syrup. You’ve only just tucked in when your phone vibrates.

Jack: Blueberry?

You: Yes.

Jack: How’d you know?

You: Lucky guess.

[moldycheezeit]

Chapter 2

hi uh this took longer then it was supposed to because of my SAT testing and I'm having to study for my history STAAR (Texas state testing) then after that my finals so hopefully I survive.

Let's skip to a couple months later because I’m not writing all that. Also this isn't following the mcu nor the DC storyline.

You were currently in New York helping Tony with the gadgets he makes. Well that’s what you do part of the time the other part you hang around avengers tower. And currently you and a certain spider hero. who you see as an older brother, an annoying one but still a brother. Peter knew you saw him as such and he was proud of it. That he was the brother you chose HIM and not those stupid birds that were your so-called brothers. But ignoring that you were trying to make cookies. Damn do they look bad. “How do they look, peanut ?” Peter asked proudly. “I’m gonna be honest with you, you're terrible at getting the measurements right, I thought you were supposed to be smart.” You had replied while looking at the supposed cookie goop with disgust. “ Well damn screw you too I guess, maybe we can still save it…” Peter had said.

You might be wondering why you are here and does anyone know. Well after you won Tony gave you his card just in case you ever wanted to intern under him. With that he left, I mean he gave the other winners the same card, but you saw it as a great opportunity. So you unenrolled out for Gotham high. It was quite easy because You knew how to forage Bruce’s signature and It wasn’t as complicated as unenrolling out of a school like Gotham prep. Not like Bruce would notice anyways. Anyways, you took the internship and started staying in New York with Tony. while staying with him he started seeing you more like a daughter then an intern. Being around you made him feel more paternal but not in a normal way. Over time he realized he feels protective of you and never wants to let you go, and when I say never I mean NEVER. He doesn't understand how your family ignored and neglected you. You're the one of the best things that ever happened to him. Alright let's pretend we didn't see that and go back to the present. :)

“I mean if we add more flour we could probably save it.” You looked at Peter while saying. “But next time don't try to be stupid and wing it!” You had now started hitting him with the baking mitt that was next to you. “Hey stop that! it was an accident!” He tried to apologize while shielding his face from your rath. “What are you two doing?” The familiar voice of Tony had said. You turned to look at him and annoyingly said “Peter didn’t get the measurements right for the cookies we were supposed to be making but instead it turned into a gooey mess.” You were about to show him the bowl, but then you realized it was gone. “Hey where did it go?” You had started looking around we’re it just was. Peter had responded “oh I put it in the freezer to see if it would harden up so we could use it.” You couldn’t help but huff then look at Tony. “Do you need help with anything, because if not I’ll just go hang out in my room.” “Nah kid I’m fine right now” Tony said while smiling at you. With that you walked away. In the distance you hear your ‘brother’ yell “you’re just gonna leave me! Fine, I'll hang out with my friends then.”

You had gotten to the room Tony gave you. It had a desk, bookshelves, and had maps on the walls. You could never get why but you loved drawing them. It kinda helped you to decide to improve your gauntlet for communicating and basically having a gps. Ignoring all of it you decided to call Kidd, the guy who won 3rd place, because after the competition was over you two made good friends.(someone asked for this and I thought it would be cool, rip if I forget this) The call hadn’t been connected, then you remembered he said he had to get surgery for his arm today so he won’t be answering. He had told you something happened to his arm so they have to amputate it. That's basically the whole reason he built that robotic arm. Now sitting in silence you start thinking about your life currently. You got this amazing opportunity to work with Tony Stark and you can’t lie you see him more as a dad then you even saw Bruce. Instead of dealing with all your brothers who don’t like you, you have Peter who actually loves hanging out with you. While in your thoughts you didn't hear the door to your room open. Tony walks in and sits on your bed, and when you feel the dip in the bed you realize he’s in the room. You look at him and he starts speaking. “Hey peanut are you doing ok you seem kinda quiet lately.” “I’m ok it’s just been weird dealing with all these things I’ve never experienced before when I was in Gotham…” you had said quietly. Tony places his hand on your head and comforts you in his own way. After a long silence he starts talking. “I came here for another reason. I have a question for you bub and you can say yes or no I’ll be fine with it.” He takes in a deep breath as you wait for it with anticipation. “Do you wish to join the avengers..with the rise of villains I want to keep you safe and I feel like joining us would help you. You don’t have to do any missions. You can stay here and be like our tech girl, but I’ll also have you trained in case something comes up where you do need to fight.” But what you didn't know was that his real reason for it was to keep you near him so you couldn't leave. I mean why would you, you're his precious daughter after all. It was quiet for a moment and you had answered. “Yea, I’ll do it.”

“Tony, why is Natasha here?” “She’s going to teach you how to fight, or in other words self defense.” All three of you were in one of the towers' training rooms. You look at Nat as she smiles at you. “Alright I’ll leave you to it.” He says before he leaves. He already told Natasha not to hurt you too badly. Now why would he want his little peanut to get really hurt, no father would want that for their daughter. Nat turns to look at you and says “alright let’s start off with the basics.”

You had been training with Natasha for a month now, and she’s taught you a good portion of what she knows. Currently she’s helping you defend yourself from an attacker with a knife. “ Let's start with how to fight against someone wielding a blade. (y/n) try attacking me.” You look down at the fake knife in your hand then back up at her.“ Are you sure?” she tells you “there's no need to hold back” “all right here I come” you say right before you run at her swinging the knife wildly. “When someone's waving a knife around, keep your distance. If they attack directly, plant one leg and use it to pivot and dodge, then grab their wrist and back at the same time and slam them to the ground.” She explains as she does the motions on you. (yes I did take this from the scene where gunhead is teaching uraraka how to fight (ᵕ—ᴗ—)) “ ow.. that kinda hurts.” “Well it's not supposed to feel good.” Natasha smiles at you as you get up from the floor. “Alright we’re done for today's training. You're doing good, peanut.” Upon hearing that you rush out of the room as fast as your sore body could carry you. As soon as you made it back to your room you laid on your bed, just laying there that's all. Not knowing there were cameras watching your every move. Your dear old man had put them in your room after he found out his big little obsession with you. But he doesn't watch you get changed or anything, he just wants to know what you're doing 24/7 to make sure you're safe. While laying on your bed you accidentally fell asleep. You know I wonder what's happening right now in Gotham?

The manor is quiet, it normally is but for the past few months it's been eerily quiet. Like there was supposed to be something there but it's not there. Currently Tim was walking around the manor looking for a place to possibly nap seeing as his room is filled with his tech and it’s all noisy. Then he came across a room that was slightly ajar. It was on the other side of the manor. When he opened it there was a bedroom, it was the same size as another guest room in the manor. But it looked like it was lived in at one point in time. The more he was in the room the more familiar it seemed. He felt as if he knew who once lived within these walls. That's when he stopped at the closet. Something tempted him to open it, so with his natural curiosity he did. What he found inside was old boxes, some filled with awards and medals while others filled with old clothes, pictures, and books. As he snooped through them he was surprised someone other than him had won all these awards and the family never noticed. On all the trophies he kept seeing the name (y/n). ‘Why did that name sound so familiar?’ he thought while moving to another box. This time it had some pictures. At first he saw a picture of a beautiful woman, Bruce's dead wife. He knows who she is by the many paintings of her in the manor, specifically the one in his office. The further he got in the box the more he saw pictures of this girl, who looks like a younger version of the woman in the pictures. As he picked up one picture and looked at it, he froze. It was the girl, who he presumes is (y/n), and recognizes her. It's an old picture from when she was much younger but he remembers her face a slight bit, but that's because every time he saw her it would be with discussed in his eyes. He doesn't remember why he would look at her that way. She never did anything wrong to him. She was just a little girl who wanted someone who loved her. It caused him to feel guilt in his heart. He had to fix this without the family knowing. He had to find (y/n) and fix this. And with that he took some of her things in a box he dumped out and headed to his room to find his little sister.

Hopefully you guys liked it (ㅅ´ ˘ `)

I’m sorry I made you wait so long. ૮(˶╥︿╥)ა

Taglist : @cxcilla @starslightzz @jackchanzzz @simpingpandas @galaxypurplerose @spqce-buns @peche4et3chocolat @ryuushou @moon0goddess @fanficloverlol @tinybrie @victoria1676 @r-u-s-s-i-a-h @lostsomewhereinthegarden @h-ib @xheri122 @0sunnyside01 @momentomoribitch @1abi @redsakura101 @mariadvorak @awawage @crazycaoticsimp @jsprien213 @vanessa-boo @alishii @xzmickeyzx @sirenetheblogger @bunniotomia

Omg so many of you guys ( ˶°ㅁ°) !!

Also guys does anyone know how to make a master list? I wanna make one so people don’t have to scroll through my post trying to look for stuff.

[pathologicalreid]

too heavy to hold | s.r.

in which you and Spencer grieve the loss of the most important person in your life, your son

who: spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst content warnings: grief, childhood cancer, funerals, medical care, death, dry heaving word count: 1.42k a/n: i sense a notes app apology in my future

Spencer Reid had perfected his chicken noodle soup recipe.

It’s the only thing you could think of when you crossed the threshold of your house, your heels clicking against the hardwood before you stopped in the entryway. There were still servings in the freezer, ready to be made for a toddler who was never coming home.

It was a recipe that needed to be precariously made; Spencer would pull the strings out of celery stalks and overcook the vegetables so they weren’t tough on Cooper. It was a meal that didn’t take a lot of energy to eat, perfect for your three-year-old, especially after the last time you brought him home from the hospital.

Your husband went around you, placing the bag that the funeral home had given you on the kitchen counter and returning to you. Your eyes focused on the bag, a nondescript tote bag that held copies of the obituary, the funeral handout, and Cooper’s death certificate. You weren’t sure what you wanted from the bag; maybe part of you was hoping that you could set it on fire with your gaze.

The house smelled like a flower shop. Since Monday morning, arrangements had been arriving on your porch in a steady stream. People sent flowers, sandwiches, bread baskets, and one fruit arrangement you had let rot for no reason other than you couldn’t get yourself out of bed.

There were more plants at the funeral home; Luke had offered to bring them to your house tonight so you wouldn’t have to worry about them.

Spencer tried to reach out for you, nothing more than setting a hand on your waist, but you stepped away from him, stumbling over your heeled shoes as you did so. You held your breath while you waited for a response, but he just sighed and went to the kitchen.

You deserved that, you supposed, after your breakdown at the wake that ended with you lashing out at JJ. She just caught you at a bad time; you’d just buried your son, and she came up to you telling you she knew how you felt. You’d desperately wanted to draw the connections between her loss and yours, but you were the one who had to spend a thousand dollars on a much too small casket and surround yourself with a group of people telling you just how sorry they were. It ended with Emily bringing you outside, dry heaving off of the edge of the balcony while you begged yourself to wake up from the horrible nightmare you were having.

They shouldn’t even make caskets that small. You shouldn’t have had to buy a cemetery plot for your three-year-old. You’d never understood why people buy plots of land so far in advance of their deaths, but you and Spencer had purchased a plot large enough to reunite you with your son someday.

Parents shouldn’t have to bury their children. You shouldn’t have had to write an obituary for your three-year-old. An obituary should be filled with the life and legacy that someone is passing on to the next generation; it shouldn’t include a description of a baby’s favorite stuffed animal. You’d buried him with it. Cooper and Blue were destined to be together for eternity.

Toys still scattered the family room, train tracks set up all over the floor that you didn’t have the heart to take down. There were blocks on the stairs, but tripping over them would’ve been welcome. At least that way you’d be reminded that he had been here. A reminder of him while memories were still too painful.

Your chest ached while you walked away from Spencer, making your way up the stairs and walking into your room. The blankets on your bed were awry, evidence of five days of restless sleep, and as you kicked your shoes off in the closet, you noticed a faint glow coming from the room across the hall.

You and Spencer had disagreed on how to keep the door to Coop’s room; every time you closed it, Spencer would open it back up again.

Gently, you pushed the door open and sighed. Sunlight was beaming in through the blinds, illuminating everything in the room with an orange glow. It smelled faintly of antiseptic; the cart next to his bed was packed with every medical supply he had ever needed. New boxes were in the closet, gauze and disinfecting wipes provided by your insurance that you’d donate to a new family now that yours didn’t have any use for them.

The smell was oddly comforting, memories of singing to Cooper while you’d administer his medication and dancing around his room to stop him from crying. For every good memory, there were ten unpleasant ones. There had been countless sleepless nights where you and Spencer stayed up with him, cooing and comforting him while he wailed in pain and had already maxed out on pain medication.

He'd never had to feel that kind of pain again, the trade-off was living every day of your life feeling like your heart was being torn out of your chest.

Penelope had stenciled butterflies on his wall; his fascination started during his first remission when one had landed on his finger. When his cancer recurred and you were in the hospital with him, Penelope had taken it upon herself to revamp his bedroom.

He’d died in this room. When the doctors came to you and said there was nothing else they could do for him, you and Spencer knew you had to bring him home. You sang to him, smoothing your hand over his chemo fuzz when he stopped breathing, and you continued to sing until you were choking on your own tears. There were no more words for you to say to him, and your baby was gone.

Standing in it now, you looked around, the stuffed animals piled in the corner, and you missed him. No matter how many people told you he was in a better place or that he wasn’t hurting anymore, you’d always miss him. You’d never get over this kind of loss.

On his dresser, you spotted a folded cloth. It was familiar, but it wasn’t until you took it off of the dresser that you knew exactly what it was. The blanket that you had been given at the hospital when Cooper was born. It smelled faintly of baby shampoo; you held it to your nose as you sat down on his bed.

You hadn’t spent any time in here since the night he died, but with the blanket in hand, you found yourself lying on the bed, his Thomas the Train Engine bedding a welcoming sight beneath you while you begged yourself to never forget the sound of his voice.

“Thanks, JJ,” Spencer’s tired voice carried from down the hall. “Yeah, I’ll let her know.” He walked into your bedroom first, thinking you were in there getting changed, before he peeked into Cooper’s room.

Your eyes met, and the only thing you felt was shame. Shame that you couldn’t do something to help your son, shame that you had pushed everyone away when all they wanted to do was help, and shame that you were denying Spencer the comfort of you because you didn’t think you deserved it.

The two of you were quiet, with you still in your funeral dress and him still in his suit; there was a silent acknowledgment of grief between you. Swallowing thickly, you backed up so that you were against the wall, leaving space for Spencer to lie down with you.

Spencer shut his eyes, and your chest deflated, thinking he didn’t want to be near you. Punishing you for pushing him away.

You closed your eyes, listening to a faint rustle of fabric before you felt the mattress dip down in front of you. Spencer pulled you into him, and in a battle of broken wills, you were the first to hold up a white flag. Wrapping your arms around him, you let yourself be comforted by him while you comforted him.

For a moment, you were too lost in your own sobs to notice that Spencer was crying to you, holding each other for the first time since that night, but instead of your son between you, his blanket took his place. “I’m so sorry,” you blubbered in between sobs, “I love you.”

His arms tightened around you, a silent acknowledgment of your apology, before he sniffled and responded, “I love you too.”

[fireinmoonshot]

kiss it better | joaquin torres x reader

Pairing: Joaquin Torres x Reader Summary: While attempting to hide a present from Joaquin, you give yourself a minor injury. Joaquin has a habit of overreacting whenever you injure yourself – no matter how small. Warnings: Mentions of a paper cut and hurting your hand. Word Count: 1.6k A/N: This is completely self indulgent because I did slam my finger in a door at work today and I immediately thought about how Joaquin would make such a big deal about tiny injuries, so I suffered through the sore finger while typing to write this tonight 😂💗

“Angel, I’m home!” Joaquin calls, closing the door to your apartment behind him and dumping his gym bag on the table by the front door. He kicks off his shoes and looks into the apartment, confused at the lack of response from you. “Angel?”

He pulls his phone out of his pocket and checks for new messages from you but sees none, confusing him even more. If you’d left the house, you would have texted him to tell him, knowing he was due home from the gym soon. There was nowhere else you could be and he was certain of it.

Frowning, Joaquin wanders further into your apartment, figuring he’ll just go room to room and find you that way. You have to be here somewhere. He won’t let himself worry about where you could be if you’re not here. 

“You in here?” Joaquin attempts, calling out again as he pushes open the door to your bedroom. The light is on and the curtains are open, letting the evening light into the room. If you’d gone out, you would’ve shut the curtains and turned off the light…

He’s about to call out again when he hears a muffled swear word from the walk-in closet, just off to the side of your bedroom. He heads towards it, pulling open the door to see you hurriedly pulling a blanket over something in the corner of the room and then clutching your hand to your chest with a wince.

You’re hurt.

“Angel, what happened?” Joaquin is in front of you in seconds, his hands reaching out to take yours in his and inspect it. He’s confused when he can’t see any visible damage. There’s no cuts and there’s no blood. It doesn’t dull his worry, though.

“It’s fine, baby,” you attempt to pull your hand out of his grasp to no avail. “I just accidentally slammed the drawer and caught my finger in it. It’ll hurt for a bit but it’s okay.”

Worry fills Joaquin’s eyes. Even though it’s only a small injury, he takes it very seriously. He steps beside you, wrapping his arm around you and holding your injured hand with his other hand before leading you out of the closet and into the kitchen.

“Sit here,” he says, pulling a stool out for you and making sure you sit on it before he grabs a tea towel and heads to the freezer. He fills the towel with ice before coming back over to you, gently placing your hand on the counter and holding the ice to your sore finger. “Hold this on there for a while, okay? It’ll help with the pain. Do you want some painkillers?”

You shake your head. “It’s really okay, Joaquin. I’ve done this before. I think everyone has slammed their finger in a door at some point in their life. It’s like an unwritten right of passage.” You listen to him, though, continuing to hold the ice to your finger. It’s throbbing, shooting pain through your hand, but you try to ignore it as best you can.

Joaquin’s immediate response to the injury does make you smile, though. No matter how small the injury was, you could always guarantee that Joaquin would make a big deal out of it and treat it like it was life or death. You vividly remember the time you got a paper cut while wrapping Christmas presents and he’d been two seconds away from driving you straight to the Emergency Room. 

Joaquin sighs and pulls out the stool beside you to sit down on it. “What were you doing in there anyway, angel? I called out when I got home and you never replied. Made me worried as hell.” He reaches out a hand and rests it on your thigh, giving it a squeeze.

That… was not something easy to explain. Joaquin’s birthday was coming up in a few weeks and the present you’d ordered for him had arrived a week and a half early from the estimated delivery date. You’d been figuring out a way to hide it so that he wouldn’t see it, deciding that the corner of the closet he very rarely even used since most of the things in it were yours, was the best place… until he got home from the gym earlier than you’d expected and you’d slammed your finger in the drawer you’d gotten the blanket from.

“This is going to sound so sketchy,” you sigh, resting your good hand on top of his. “But I can’t tell you yet. Can you just believe that I had a good reason to be in there and not replying to you when you called out to me? I promise you’ll find out in due time.” 

Joaquin is not the type to fight you on it but you can see the confusion in his eyes. Thankfully, he agrees to let it go – for now. “All right, but only if you promise I’ll find out the reason eventually. I’ll hold you to that and you know I will.”

“I promise,” you smile, giving his hand a squeeze. “How long do I have to have this ice on my hand?” You look over at it. “This ice is freezing and I think I’m starting to lose feeling in my fingers. I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.”

Your words are, unsurprisingly, taken much too seriously by your boyfriend. Joaquin stands up from the stool, grabbing the ice and removing it from your hand. He peers down at your hand, which looks exactly the same as it did before, just much colder. 

“You know, I think maybe you should have your finger looked at,” he starts. “What if you broke a bone and it’s not just bruised? I’ll just go and get changed out of my gym gear and then I’ll go pull the car around the front so you don’t have to go all the way down–”

“Joaquin.”

You cut him off, placing a hand on his arm. There he goes again, being overly cautious with your small injuries. It’s hard not to smile at him. The look on his face makes you fall in love with him even more. 

“I haven’t broken a bone, baby. It’s just bruised and still sore cause I only did it like five minutes ago. It’s going to take a while to feel better again,” you explain. “I don’t think we need to rush off to the hospital for something like a smashed finger.”

Joaquin’s eyes widen. “A smashed finger sounds pretty bad…”

You can’t help but smile at him now. The poor boy is unaware of how completely adorable he is. With everything he does for a job, you’re constantly surprised at how innocent he can be regarding certain topics. 

“Let’s make a deal,” you offer. “If my finger is still hurting really badly tomorrow, if it’s really swollen and I can’t bend it, for example, then I’ll let you drive me to the hospital to get it looked at. But if it’s fine, but still sore, then we don’t have to go to the Emergency Room.”

Joaquin sighs and looks between your face and your hand before slowly nodding his head. “Okay, deal. But you promise you’ll tell me if it’s hurting really badly or you can’t bend it?”

“I promise,” you nod, a thought suddenly occurring to you – a sure fire way to make Joaquin feel better about the whole situation. “But one more thing…” 

“Anything.”

You raise your hand a little off the table. “Will you kiss it better for me?”

A smile makes its way onto Joaquin’s lips, a sudden playfulness replacing his worry – not entirely, but enough to make a difference in his attitude. “Of course I will, angel. We both know that my kisses have healing powers.”

You gasp jokingly. “Does that mean you’re going around kissing people when you’re off saving the world? And all this time I thought you were being a badass Falcon…”

Joaquin smirks, clearly amused. “Pretty sure we’ve established this many times before, that you are the only person on earth who gets my kisses these days, and for the rest of our lives if I have anything to say about it,” he says. 

Gently, he reaches his hand to take yours, making sure not to put too much pressure on your sore finger, and bends down to press his lips to your hand. He’s careful with his kiss, really only brushing his lips lightly over the injury, but it makes you smile nonetheless.

“I think I’m all better now,” you grin up at him as he stands up straight again. 

He chuckles and shakes his head. “Despite my healing powers, will you still let me look after you tonight?” 

“It’d be my honour to be taken care of by you, Joaquin Torres,” you reply. “We could even play a video game if you wanted? I know there’s that new one you were talking about playing with me a few weeks ago.”

Joaquin sucks in a breath and shakes his head. “Okay, first things first – you gotta know how attractive you are telling me you wanna play a video game with me. But second – playing video games involve using controllers, which means having full use of all your fingers, and considering one of your hands is injured, at least until my healing powers really kick in, I’m gonna have to veto that option.”

“You make a fair point,” you hum. “Rain check on the video game, then?”

“You bet I’m gonna take you up on that offer, angel,” he smiles. He leans down and presses a soft kiss to your forehead. It instantly warms you up from the inside out, even managing to somehow warm your still ice chilled hand. “Now, should we order takeout? I’m thinking Pizza or Mexican. Thoughts?”

[letters-to-lgbt-kids]

My dear lgbt+ kids, 

Someone requested „unhinged life advice“ and I will try my best to provide some - but firstly, and at the risk of sounding like a buzzkill, I need to say something very annoying: 

A lot of the things that’ll make you feel happier and make your life better are - frustratingly - very, very hinged. They’re just the things you expect them to be: try to eat at least some veggies, fruit and fiber. Try to drink enough water. Go to bed early enough to get eight hours of sleep. Try to move your body, for example by taking walks or exercising. Avoid alcoholic drinks (altogether if possible but at least in excess). Quit smoking. Try to do at least some things in your free time that are not just passive consumption of content and instead challenge your brain, like learning a language or doing puzzles or writing short stories. Try to have at least some pleasant social interactions, ideally even in person. 

These pieces of advice aren’t fun. They also aren’t easy. I think we are so fascinated by the concept of „unhinged life advice“ because we are tired. We hope for something easier, for a magic quick fix, for a „this one little thing changed everything“ - while in reality building new habits needs patience and determination and time. 

So, I think the best pieces of „unhinged life advice“ are the ones that help to build these habits! I’ll share some of them. I’ll also throw in some pieces of advice that are just unhinged in the sense of „weirdly specific“ (since that’s another possible interpretation). 

Without further ado: 

If putting chicken nuggets in a salad makes you actually eat a salad you otherwise would never eat, then chicken nuggets are a healthy choice. 

If you struggle with eating fruit because the texture is so unpredictable, try frozen fruit (eaten straight out of the freezer). Frozen fruit has a predictable texture! 

If frozen fruit hurts your tummy or you don’t like that texture, either, here are some more ideas: make smoothies, or purée fruit and mix it into yoghurt, or purée fruit and add it to tomato sauce (sounds weird but a little sweetness can work great in tomato sauce), or bake fruit into muffins (if you cut them up very finely or blend them into the dough, they are often barely noticeable) 

Moving your body doesn’t have to look like exercise. Going on a walk (maybe to look for pretty stones on the sidewalks? or even just to get a coffee!) counts! Dancing to your favorite song (even alone in your room) counts too! Crawling on the floor like a dog (just for the silliness of it, which is also great for your brain) also counts! 

Sleep rituals can help a lot and they don’t need to be fancy! Just do the same thing before you go to bed and over time your brain will associate it with getting sleepy and calm down once you do it. This could be something like making a cup of chamomile tea, listening to soft piano music, praying or meditating, writing down one thing you’re grateful for etc., but also something whimsy like saying good night to your favorite plushie! 

A great way to get some steps in and also challenge your brain is to go to museums. If you feel like you are not the museum type because you don’t „get“ art, try this little trick: just don’t try to get it. Don’t focus on finding the meaning or find hidden symbolism for now. Instead, just try to find three things you like about the art piece. This doesn’t have to be anything smart or deep. It can be something like „I like the blue color the artist used“ or „I like how fluffy the clouds look“. This approach will help you relax and actually learn to appreciate the art… which is what you need to do in order to allow your brain to look for meanings

There’s probably at least one vegetable you think you hate but you really just hate the way your mom prepares them (no offense to your mom). It can be a fun challenge to revisit some foods you decided you hate as a kid and to see if that’s still true. 

Allow yourself to be bored. „I need to look at two screens simultaneously at all times to avoid a thought from occurring“ is not as funny in real life as it sounds as a meme. Your brain needs to be bored sometimes. Your thoughts need to wander sometimes. If that’s hard, then start by just doing certain things more intentionally: do not watch YouTube while eating. Just eat. Do not scroll through TikTok while on the toilet. Just poop. Your brain will reward you for actually getting some time to sort through and process stuff. Even if it’s just while pooping. 

Allow yourself to gameify those boring adult tasks if that works for you. Pretend to be on a cooking show while chopping onions. Sing a silly song about laundry while doing laundry. Beat your own record for speed-cleaning. Give those dishes a nice pool party in your sink. 

Reading of all kinds still counts as reading. Yes, it can be a rewarding challenge to finally finish that bestselling novel that is totally outside of your genres or interests, or that classic piece of literature that everyone should know. But if it’s too overwhelming and kinda stops you from reading altogether, then just put it aside and read something that’s actually fun for now! It can be a graphic novel or a children’s book or fanfiction or Wikipedia articles, too. 

Make lists. I may be biased because I love lists and make lists for everything (I even have a list categorizing all my lists…) but lists can be such a great tool! Any task becomes much more satisfying when you can cross it off a list.

When people say things like „someone should empty the dishwasher“ or „we should take out the trash today“, they often mean „I want you to empty the dishwasher“ or „I want you to take out the trash“. They’re not even being confusing on purpose or playing mind games, they just assume that wording it so indirectly is nicer and more polite.

If you safely can, then go to Pride events (and queer spaces in general) in small towns or rural areas! They’re often the ones who need support the most. And since they’re smaller, they can also be more accessible (in terms of less noise, less crowded etc.)

I don’t think this one is rooted in science but I’m a big fan of having little comfort items. Just little „emotional support trinkets“ or lucky charms you can carry with you and look at or fidget with when you get nervous. Of course it’s important to not fall into overconsumption with that (impulsively purchasing lots of items you then do not end up actually using or even just purchasing them for the thrill of purchasing), but, if done intentionally (only picking a limited number of items that you actually form an emotional attachment and assign personal meaning to), I believe it can be a simple way to boost happy feelings. It can also work well as your own little „secret“ Pride item! If you don’t feel safe or comfortable wearing rainbow accessories but want something to affirm your identity for yourself, it can be a great idea to assign your own meaning to something totally random. Good way to train your creativity too! 

With all my love, 

Your Tumblr Dad 

[princesssae]

{Chocolate Chip Cookies}

[Megumi Fushiguro x Platonic!Fem!Reader] [Gojo Satoru x Fem!Reader]

In Which -> You and eight-year-old Megumi bond after having a hard time sleeping!

Word Count -> 1.3k

Authors Note -> Yayayay I’m SO excited! I love Megumi SO much and I want to write for him more! (Perhaps more fics with him slowly growing up?)

Warnings -> afab!reader, fluff, established relationship with Gojo, not really any warnings but please let me know if there’s anything I should add!

When Gojo Satoru tells you that he has a child, you assumed that the said “child” would be a fur baby. A dog, cat, or even a mouse. But when you start dating him in your final years of high school, you notice that the “child” is actually a child. A human being. And it’s two children, to be precise.

Satoru is a heavy sleeper. His Infinity flickers in the middle of the night so it’s hard to cuddle with him. Tonight is one of those examples. He’s snoring and his limbs are spread all over the bed.

But that’s not what woke you up tonight. Waking up from your slumber, you look at your nightstand. It’s 3:32am. You’re still a bit drowsy, but you’re able to hear the refrigerator door open and shut. A few seconds later, you hear the slight drag of a chair across your wooden floors. You grimace. Hopefully it didn’t scratch the floor.

Is it someone breaking in? No, it can’t be. Their cursed energy feels similar, though. You slowly get out from your side of the bed, slide on your slippers and head to the kitchen.

The sound of your footsteps makes the burglar stop their movement. You turn the corner and you see a child. This child has a bed head and loose, black and yellow Batman pajamas on. You internally laugh. It’s Megumi.

“What are you doing up so late, ‘Gumi?” You ask.

He flinches. He’s eight years old now. It’s been 2 years since you’ve met him, and one year since you’ve moved in with the Gojo-Fushiguro family. You’d like to think that he tolerates you more than Gojo, considering the fact that Gojo likes to mess with poor Megumi often.

Does he think that he’s in trouble? You hope not. All this effort over the past few years can burn in a matter of seconds.

“I wanted milk,” he states. “Because I’m thirsty.” He looks like a kitten on the side of the road. Cute.

You look at the counter and see that there’s only one Pokémon themed plastic cup occupying the space. You look at the fridge and see one of your dining room chairs pressed against the door.

“Did you need help getting the milk?” You ask. He can’t reach, of course. That explains the noise from earlier.

You think of the last time you put the groceries in the refrigerator. It was earlier that day that you remember Satoru wanting to help put the groceries up despite not knowing where everything went. You make a mental note to tell Satoru that the milk should not be tucked away in the back of the refrigerator, where both Tsumiki and Megumi cannot reach. One time, he put the milk in the freezer and you were searching everywhere for it.

You set the chair back in the dining room and rummage through the stack of dumplings and sushi that Gojo begged to get, for himself obviously. Pulling the milk carton from the fridge, you set it down on the counter and let Megumi pour his own amount. He’s old enough and you trust him not to spill it.

Now, the both of y’all are more awake, but still silent. Suddenly, an idea pops in your mind.

“Would you like to make chocolate chip cookies? Tsumiki made the dough but we didn't finish making the batch last night,” you explain.

Megumi’s silent for a few seconds before he speaks up. “Sure,” he says. But before you do anything, you tell Megumi that it’s always proper etiquette to wash your hands before eating and making food in the kitchen.

While he washes his hands, you walk over to the oven and set it out to preheat. Going over to the fridge, you find the dough stashed away and covered from the vegetables sitting on top of it.

Did Gojo try to hide it? You giggle and get the dough out. It doesn’t take long for it to thaw out. You grab the baking pan and set in front of Megumi.

He watches you take a decent amount of cookie dough and roll it into a ball before placing it on the cookie tray. Then, he grabs some dough from the bowl and proceeds to make different shapes before placing them on the sheet. It’s okay though, because they’ll all end up flat anyways.

When y’all are done making the amount of desired cookies, you wash your hands again and take out the chocolate chips. Even though Tsumiki has added more than enough chips, you know Megumi has a sweet tooth. Maybe you’re also feeling a little sugar yourself.

“Would you like to add more chocolate chips to your cookies?” You ask. Megumi nods and takes the chocolate out of your hand. He makes smiley faces on his cookies before he tells you that he’s done.

Then the oven beeps to let you know that it’s done preheating, you grab the cookie tray and set it in the oven. You notice that one of the cookies doesn’t have chocolate chips in it at all. Ah, so that’s what he’s doing, you think.

You pick Megumi up and he punches 10 minutes in the timer on the oven. While the both of y’all wait, you refill his milk and get a glass for yourself. The rest of the time is spent making small talk about school, homework, teachers, his demon dogs, etc.

When the timer ends, you click clear and when you take the tray out of the oven, those golden brown cookies smell so very good. You let them cool down before setting them on a plate, giving the first cookie to Megumi.

After taking the first bite, his eyes close for just a second longer than needed, and that’s how you know that he likes it. When he takes his second cookie, the one without any chocolate in it, he splits it in half and summons his demon dogs. He feeds each of them half of the cookie and pets them for a bit. In the next few minutes, the cookies are gone in a flash and the milk is no longer there. You put the dishes in the sink and tell Megumi not to worry about it, and that you’ll get to it tomorrow.

As you walk him back to his bedroom, you tell him that, “Next time, we’re going to have to give you a glass of water on your nightstand so you don’t make any more noise in the middle of the night.” He laughs at that.

But you both know that neither of you mind these late night shenanigans. As he enters his room, his dogs find their spot on the bed to sleep with him. You watch with a smile, and once he’s settled into bed, you tell him to sleep well and get plenty of rest for the big day tomorrow.

The next morning, you wake up with Gojo screeching his head off and running into your shared bedroom. He shoves the empty plate of cookies in your face, but it’s not entirely empty. Melted chocolate chip residue is the evidence of the cookies you and Megumi enjoyed and savored last night.

Satoru whines and tells you that the next time you make cookies, you should wake him up, no matter what. As you smile in response to Gojo’s complaining, you don’t fail to notice the sly grin on Megumi’s face looking in between the crack of you and Satoru’s bedroom door.

Please do not copy, translate, or alter my work without my permission!

[dyk3ang3l]

participating in this pride month prompt i had lots of fun writing this idea out thank youu!!

working together at an ice cream shop, broken fan, hates summer x loves summer

You and Ellie work at a dingy ice cream shop on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere, and when the only fan breaks down in the store; Ellie gets a bit whiny because she hates the summer time. Let’s just say you guys find a way to cool down…

wc: like 950 idk

ellie x fem reader

cw: MDNI! reader is pink text and ellie is blue text. mainly fluff/crack and ellie being dramatic. sub!ellie, teasing, implied cooter eating (all e!receiving) reader doesn’t have any descriptive features!!

Love is Everywhere by Magdalena Bay was playing while i was writing this and i’d say it fits the vibes a LOT so definitely listen to it while reading!!

Ellie had a gigantic fan blowing directly on her face and was practically chugging down her 2nd blue slushy of the day, she looked like she was on the verge of collapsing. You guys had only started 2 hours ago.

You on the other hand were watching in amusement, this girl was so dramatic! Sure it was a little hot, but Ellie was acting like it was 200 degrees. You loved her though.

“Thanks for stopping by, have a good day!”

You waved goodbye to the only customer you’ve gotten today, when he leaves you slump forward on the counter and rest your chin on the palm your hand. You were bored out of your mind. As if to enhance your boredom, you see a piece of tumbleweed comically rolling on the road outside.

You don’t know how you were going to last 6 more hours of your shift, especially with Ellie whining like this. It wasn’t even that hot!

“Babeeee help meeeee please. I think I’m dying, I can’t take this. I’m serious, check my heartbeat I think it’s slowing down.”

“Oh my god babe you’re right, I think you’re dying. Gone forever, how will I keep going!!”

You put your hand over her chest and fake a shocked gasp, Ellie just rolls her eyes and flips you off yet she can’t help but crack a smile at you.

Ellie was about to keep rambling on and complaining about hot it was, but she’s abruptly cut off by the fan making a loud rattling noise and then slows down until it completely stops.

“No! No, no, no, no, no!!” Ellie desperately bangs at the fan and even tries unplugging it, then plugging it back in, but it’s useless.

Nothing is working. Hopeless. Done for. She was going to die at her minimum wage job.

“Can we like… Doordash a fan here or something?? PLEASE I can’t last another 6 hours in this heat.”

A thought popped up into your mind and you look at her with a soft smirk. You walk away from the register and go to the door to flip the sign from open to closed.

“How about we spend some time in the freezer?”

-

“I feel like we’re in that one episode of Austin and Ally when they are stuck in the ice cream freezer. Oh no, please keep checking the freezer door, I don’t want to get stuck in here.”

Ellie says as she begins eating strawberry ice cream out of one of the tubs in the freezer, she finally felt herself returning back to normal as the cool air from the freezer was blowing on her sweat-slick body and the ice cream was cooling down her insides.

You on the other hand were watching her with low eyes not listening to a SINGLE word your girlfriend was saying, the way the sweat was dripping down her body and how her biceps flexed with every subtle movement. Why was Ellie always so sexy without even trying? You needed this loser. Now.

You slowly walk over to her until your behind her, your clothed sex pressed up against her ass and your chest pressed against her back. You hear Ellie’s breath hitch as you cup her face and turn her head to the side, your thumb glides across her bottom lip to wipe the strawberry ice cream that’s there and you bring your thumb into your mouth to suck it off.

You hear Ellie make a soft needy sound that you almost missed and her cheeks flush a pretty pink, you love making her flustered like this. She looked like a deer caught in headlights.

“Mmm, I still think you taste better.”

You wrap your arms around her waist from behind her, leaning forward you begin trailing kisses up the side of her neck and she eagerly tilts her head to the side with a soft whimper to give you better access. Ellie fully drops the spoon onto the ground with a swift movement of her hands going to cover yours on her stomach, she was fucking soaked already.

Ellie couldn’t even tell she was in the freezer anymore, the way you were touching and kissing her had her body burning up like the heat that was pounding onto her earlier.

“Babe… Fuck. You’re really doing this right now?” Ellie said with an already higher pitch and needy tone, she was making absolutely no moves to stop you though. She let out a sharp gasp when you sucked that one sensitive part of her neck into your mouth and nipped gently, Ellie’s body went wobbly and her hands surged forward to hold onto the rack in front of her so her legs wouldn’t give out.

“Mhm, I am. You don’t want me to stop though, do you?” You asked redundantly because you knew 100% she was going to shake her head no, and you smirked against her neck when she eagerly did exactly what you thought. Ellie rolled her eyes when she felt you smirk against her neck and she was about to make some bratty comment but she was quickly silenced with a soft yelp when you nipped at her neck harder and said “Use your words.”

“Fuck! No, I don’t want you to stop. Please, don’t stop.”

Your one hand slides up her body, gripping her small breast in the palm of your hand and gently squeezing; at the same your other hand wanders south and you cup her pussy over her jeans and you can feel the heat radiating off of her. Her entire body jerks at these simultaneous actions and lets out a shocked gasp that turned into a drawn-out moan that went straight to your clit.

If you looked there was probably steam radiating off of her clothed sex. (There was, and Ellie had to hold back a laugh and fucking hoped you wouldn’t notice.)

“Aa-mmph, fuck baby. You feel so fucking ah-good, please touch me more.”

You nip at her earlobe before you grip her hips to flip her around, your hands cup her cheeks and you surge forward to press your lips against hers in a hungry passionate kiss that Ellie lets a strangled moan into as she kisses you back eagerly. You can taste the slushies and strawberry ice cream on her when you glide your tongue against hers and then suck her tongue into your mouth; you groan when you can taste the unique and addicting taste of Ellie underneath all of it.

You back her up against the wall and Ellie lets out a sharp gasp at the feeling of the cold wall but she quickly forgets anything and everything except you when you begin unbuckling her belt and unbuttoning her jeans.

“I’m not really in the mood for ice cream, I’d rather taste you instead.”

-

30 minutes later you guys were back at the register and Ellie’s face was flushed completely red that had nothing to deal with the heat, her legs were shaking and she had to catch herself from her legs almost giving out as she sat down on one of the chairs. You just watched with a cocky smile as you licked your lips, you could still taste her.

“So what now? The fan is still broken, and I’m still hot! Even more now.”

You shrug your shoulders and pull out your phone to text your manager what you guys should do and ask if there was another fan somewhere. You scoff when he texts back and you roll your eyes as you read out what he said.

“What the hell bruh, he said ‘That sucks, damn. Good luck though.’”

“You’re kidding, ughhhh. Well you better start writing my eulogy because I’m going to die in here.”

You just roll your eyes and chuckle softly, you rest your head on her shoulder and pat her thigh softly; turning your head to press a soft kiss to her pretty freckled cheek.

“We can take as many freezer breaks as you need, pretty girl.”

—

okay first drabble i’ve posted in awhile (emergency intercom head cannons real ones remember) please be kind to me thank you. this wasn’t supposed to be serious and i did not try THAT hard i just had an idea that i wanted to write out asap before someone else possibly did the same thing LOL!! :3

[thatnewweeb]

Ice Cream For Breakfast | Bakugo Katsuki

Summary | Your very healthy boyfriend doesn't want you to have ice cream for breakfast

Content | Fluff, one sexual comment made by Bakugo

Word Count | 0.5k+

A/N | I had this idea and wanted to write it, but it ended up being pretty short and I wasn't sure where to go with it, so I might end up rewriting it at some point in the future

It feels like the heatwave has been absolutely kicking your ass.

The air conditioning in your dorm building broke on day 2 of the heatwave, and it feels like there's no escape from the overwhelming heat.

It's absolutely unbearable, to the point that you and your boyfriend have been sleeping as far away from each other on the bed as possible, unable to even think about cuddling with each other. It would be uncomfortable anyway, but even more so with his overactive sweat glands caused by his Quirk.

When you get up in the morning, you both put on as few clothes as you possibly can while staying decent so you can go to the dorm kitchen and get food.

"Whaddya want for breakfast?" Bakugo asks, walking over to the sink to wash his hands.

You consider for a moment. "Babe..."

He sighs. "What?" he asks, thinking you're probably about to say something stupid, like you usually do when you say 'babe' in that tone.

"I know it isn't the healthiest, but..." you hesitate for a second, thinking he'll probably say no and call you stupid. "Can we have ice cream for breakfast?"

He almost glares at you when you ask that. "Idiot," he tuts, "that's an awful breakfast. You're a hero student, and you want ice cream for breakfast?"

You pout. "Baby, why not?" you whine. "It's not like I constantly have ice cream for breakfast or anything. It's just for today because it's so hot."

He shakes his head, sighing. He stays silent for a moment, looking at you as you pout in the way you know he finds absolutely adorable.

After a minute of consideration, he tuts but opens the freezer. It was stocked full of ice creams and ice lollies by the class when the heatwave began.

He chuckles softly when he sees the way your eyes light up when he agrees.

He stands close behind you, leaning in close. "You're lucky you're cute," he whispers, his breath tickling your ear.

You giggle and pick an ice cream, taking off the wrapper, which Bakugo takes and throws away for you before getting his own ice cream, now also having one for breakfast despite his protests that it's unhealthy.

He watches you intently as you start licking and sucking your ice cream, leaning against the wall with a slight smirk on his face.

When you notice him, you tilt your head at him, wondering why he's staring at you.

Smirk growing wider, he leans in closer again. "You gonna do that to me later?" he whispers teasingly.

You crinkle your nose in mock disgust at his comment, cheeks going slightly red. "You're a pervert."

He chuckles. "I'm no pervert. You're just being so cute right now that I can't help but think about that."

You pout up at him before going back to eating your ice cream.

As the rest of your class starts waking up and leaving their rooms for breakfast, more and more people join you and your boyfriend in having ice cream for breakfast.

"Just so you know, this is the only time I'll condone having ice cream for breakfast."

[caitified]

Could you write something with CC who loves naps like always begging r to lay down with her and cuddle. I feel like her room is def -10 degrees and she uses it as an excuse to practically crawl under your skin

nap time

caitlin clark x reader

this was so personal to me as a nap enthusiast,those sound like my ideal conditions

caitlin loved naps more than just about anything. it didn’t matter how busy her schedule was—practice, games, workouts—she always managed to find time to crash for an hour or two. she swore it was essential for her performance, but you were pretty sure she just loved curling up in her fortress of blankets and dozing off whenever she could.

and since the two of you started dating, she’d made it her personal mission to drag you into her napping habits. at first, you resisted—claiming you had too much to do, that it was too cold in her room, or that you weren’t tired. but caitlin was nothing if not persistent, and her endless whining (paired with her ridiculous pouting) eventually wore you down. now, it had become routine for her to beg you to nap with her, using every excuse in the book to get you to crawl under her mountain of blankets and cuddle up.

so, when you walked into her room that afternoon and saw her already burrowed in her usual spot, you knew exactly where this was going.

“come lay down with me,” she whined, stretching out her arms toward you from her cozy little nest.

“caitlin, your room feels like a walk-in freezer,” you reply, arms crossed and standing your ground. “i swear i saw my breath when i walked in.”

“that’s because it’s the perfect temperature for napping,” she argues, sitting up slightly. the blanket slips off her shoulder, and she immediately grabs it and tugs it back up like a burrito. “come on, it’s freezing—i need you to warm me up.”

you raise an eyebrow. “if it’s so cold, why don’t you just turn the heat on?”

she gasps like you’ve just suggested something heinous. “are you trying to kill me? it has to be cold so i can burrito up. but you’re supposed to be part of this equation. please.”

her pout is devastating. it always is, but you don’t let her win too easily. you stand there for a moment longer, pretending to deliberate while she stares at you with wide, pleading eyes. finally, you sigh dramatically. “fine. but only because i don’t want to listen to you complain all day.”

she grins triumphantly and throws back the corner of the blanket. “come here. you’re not going to regret it.”

the second you climb into bed, caitlin wastes no time wrapping herself around you like an octopus. her arms encircle your waist, her legs tangle with yours, and she tucks her face against your neck.

“see?” she mumbles, already sounding halfway to dreamland. “this is perfect. you’re so warm.”

“you’re like an actual furnace,” you counter, laughing softly as she squeezes you tighter.

she hums in contentment, pressing a lazy kiss to your jaw. “that’s the point. now we’re the perfect temperature. don’t move.”

“i wasn’t planning on it,” you admit, feeling yourself start to relax against her. the chill of the room is long forgotten with caitlin clinging to you like a second skin.

her breathing evens out within minutes, and you glance down to find her completely out, her mouth slightly open and her hold on you still as firm as ever.

just as your own eyelids start to droop, she stirs slightly, nuzzling closer.

“love you,” she murmurs sleepily, the words barely audible but enough to make your heart swell.

“love you too,” you whisper back, pressing a soft kiss to her temple.

thanks for reading! requests are open

[darnell-la]

Can you do a follow up with the project x!wolverine x government employee!reader (it can be smut or not I just really like that story)

𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗕𝗘𝗔𝗦𝗧 𝗕𝗥𝗢𝗞𝗘 𝗢𝗨𝗧 (ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛᴡᴏ)

pairing: project x!logan howlett x government employee!reader

warnings: tied up, trapped, sniffing, hunting down, roughly fucked against a tree, pinned, choking, “dragged” through the woods, fucked on the patio, ass slapping, hair pulling, etc.

note: we will be making a part three where they contact Charles's school for mutants to warn them about the government, but the government hacked into their call and found out where Logan was hiding out and keeping y/n.

Logan will be more sweet in the next one as y/n grows out of the fear of him.

follow our Instagram @ darnell.la so we can start posting random videos, photos, edits, and memes of the people we write about!

———

when y/n woke up, she was dangling from the ceiling by her wrists. It took her a while to realize, she was in a basement full of big freezers and sinks. For a second, she thought she was going to be cut up and frozen to feed to whoever until she saw a man sitting on the stairs, leading upstairs.

“W-Where am I?” Y/n said, voice coming out lower than she expected it to. “Home,” the man spoke before getting up. He came out of the light, now shaking off the figure.

He was shirtless, yet had jeans on. Her heart skipped a beat, and she didn’t know why. Was it because Project X had her tried up in god knows where, or was it the fact she could see all of his chest?

He was sweaty, hairy, ripped, muscles flexed every once in a while, veins popping from his skin and smooth.

“It’s passed midnight, but I bet you’re hungry. Went to the store then cooked us up some food,” he spoke as her eyes traveled all over his body. She felt like she was in a trance.

“Up here, princess,” his voice was closer. She didn’t notice how close he was until his fingers lifted her chin. Even though her feet were a few inches from the ground, he was still towering over her.

“You hungry?” He asked with a head tilt. “Let me go,” she spoke, not knowing what else to say. “No,” he spoke back, voice sounding stern. She could hear the seriousness behind his tone.

“And if you try runnin’ you’ll regret it,” he said, body now touching hers. Y/n quickly went to kick him right between his legs, but he knew what was coming. He surprised her by pulling her leg to the side of his waist. She went to use the other, but he did the exact same thing.

“Relax, princess,” the man smirked down at her as she tried wiggling away, but doing so made her cunt rub up and down his clothes length. She prayed he wouldn’t notice, but he felt the wet spot soaking into his jeans.

“If you act good, I’ll fix that for you,” the man whispered in her ear, pulling her body closer to his. Y/n held bad the whine she almost let out. What was he doing to her?

Logan eventually pulled back and walked to the corner of the room to lower her rope. He then walked back over to the girl as she looked down, not knowing what to say or do to the man.

He wasn’t giving off any type of serial killer vibes. He didn’t seem like he wanted to do any kind of killing. A part of her felt saved than she’d ever had, especially because of her job, but she felt off just letting this man win what he wanted. And that was her.

After y/n’s hands dropped from the ropes, she lifted her knees and connected with his groin. The man fell to the ground in pain as she pushed past him, running up the stairs.

The slightly frightened girl ran towards the front door, thinking she was free until she noticed a device on the lock that needed a code. “Fuckin’ hell,” she shouted before running around the rest of the house to find another way.

“You ain’t gettin’ outta here, bub!” Logan yelled from downstairs, finally getting up from the ground. You would think a mutant like him wouldn’t feel that pain, but he did.

Y/n panicked, thinking she was doomed until she had an idea. A stupid one which she slightly felt bad for doing but she did it anyway.

“Son of a bitch!” Logan finally made it up the stairs to the sound of glass breaking. She was out and running for her life, knowing he’d be furious about his genitals and glass.

Y/n ran as fast as she could through the woods, a bit terrified of the dark and animal noises, but the real animal was back at that house. He is an animal, right? That’s what they said he was.

Y/n had stopped after a few minutes to catch her breath. He’s never been the kind to run.

As she rested, she looked down at her feet, swing scratches and blood, but she’d get over it. She needed to get away.

As the young woman went to take a step to continue, she heard a noise behind her. She quickly looked back but saw nothing. Maybe it was a squirrel or something, she thought.

Y/n turned back around to start walking until he saw the view of an angry Logan in her face. “Where ya goin, bub?” He asked. Y/n instantly screamed at his presence.

Before she could move, the man tangled her to the ground, pushing his hand down the middle of her back to pin her into the dirt.

“No!” Y/n fought in anger, thinking she was actually going to escape. “When I said no, you ain’t listen, now didn’t you?” The man said through his teeth as he forced her to dress up.

“Logan, please! N-Not out here, not out here!” She begged, thinking people would be able to hear this scene going on and go and check, just to see her getting drilled into the ground.

“No one’s out here, princess. Not for another mile or so — You’re all mine out here,” the evil low laugh he let out as he pulled his jeans down was insane. He hadn’t even pulled himself out of his boxers. He wanted to take his time with her out here.

Y/n tried kicking her legs, but what was the point? He could smell her leaking down her folds. He knew she wanted this, and he was going to make her understand.

“I said, no!” Y/n shouted as she swung her elbow back as hard as she could, making him fall back. Y/n crawled away, but only a few inches to look back at him. The fear that grew inside of her was unbelievable.

Logan‘s jaw was dislocated. She popped his jaw.

Y/n’s words got stuck in her throat. She wanted to apologize as the man slowly looked up. He didn’t mean to hurt him. She’s not like that.

Before she could open her mouth, Logan popped his jaw back in place with his hand before moving it around to make sure it was normal.

“You fucked up, bub,” the man said before crawling towards her. It didn’t even look like a crawl. How did he do that? Logan lifted the girl up by her neck and pinned her to the closest tree.

“Ow!” She cried out, feeling the tree bark scratched her ass through her thin and silky nightgown. God, she needed to change soon.

“Logan, ow!” She hoped he’d have sympathy for her, but the way his eyes looked, he was far from it. He wanted to teach her a lesson, and that’s what he was doing.

“N-No, no!” She pushed at the man’s hand, but that did nothing. He ripped her nightgown off like a strand of hair. “Logan!” She shouted, feeling the breeze on her body until his body rubbed against hers.

“You’ve been a bad girl,” Logan growled as he pulled himself out of his jeans. “I don’t like that,” he had as he shifted up and between y/n’s legs until they were lifted off of the ground. Her toes barely touched the dirt.

“I-I can't, Logan,” y/n remembered how he fucked her the last time, and he wasn’t even angry at her. Logan let out a chuckle that he soon cut off after he slammed up into her cunt.

Y/n cried loudly as her arms gripped his shoulders. Logan stared directly at her, his face seemed too serious to look at. He was angry. Very angry. But why? It’s not like the pop in his jaw hurt like any other thing her went through?

“P-Please,” she choked as he pushed her neck into the tree harder, just to get a reaction out of her. “Shut the fuck up,” the man said like the tree wasn’t about to break or come out of the ground from how hard he was pounding into her.

“I can’t,” she whined in pain, but too much pleasure to not tighten around him. The way she squeezed him, egged him on further.

“Oh, you can’t? Does it look like a give a fuck? Huh!? Does it!?” He spat as his pelvis roughly slapped against her clit. She couldn’t think straight. This man was fucking her like some wild animal in the woods. She’s literally being fucked by an animal in the woods.

“F-Fuuuck,” y/n dragged with a broken moan. Logan let her neck go and used both of his hands to grip and hold onto her legs, keeping her up and against the tree, not caring how much she scratched at his shoulders and chest.

The man growled in her ear, cock slipping in and out of her entrance as her asshole puckered. He was huge and slagging around like he wasn’t.

Y/n couldn’t say, but her broken cry warned him she was cumming, and when she did, it was hard. “Goddamnit — Fuck,” the man grunted, pinning his feet to the ground to keep up his hard abuse.

“So fuckin’ good — Fuck!” The man couldn’t keep himself together as his nails dug, into her thighs. Y/n was now crying, not because she was scared, but because of the overstimulation followed by a thrust that wouldn’t slow down.

“Yeah? Yeah, is that the spot, baby?” He asked, knowing it was. “Think this is over just because you came? Think ima stop because you’re drunk on my cock? How did that go last time?”

The girl shook her head, half ass answering his questions. “So cute,” the man chuckled before pulling y/n off of the treat and throwing her over his shoulder to give her a small break.

He wanted his fresh meet alive and functioning when he fucked filled her up. Last time he didn’t get that chase, but he swore to god he would this time.

Because she ran so far, he had to walk it, giving y/n some time to come to life. “Lo-“ y/n cut herself off, still having trouble speaking, but held herself well enough for him to understand.

“No more,” she begged, but he wasn’t having it. “Please, no more,” she begged again as she noticed him passing his car parked several feet from his cabin.

“Logan!” She shouted, now kicking and screaming again. The man grew angry but wanted to take her to the bedroom for what he was about to lay on her.

“Logan!” She shouted, gripping onto the side of his house which was a long wooded stand. “Y/n, stop it!” He let her down with a shout as he began pulling her, but she wouldn’t budge and he didn’t want to accidentally rip her arms off.

“No!” She screamed before he finally pulled her off, causing her to fall on the front steps in front of his house. The way she fell and landed on her hands and knees made him say, fuck it.

“You wanna be fucked like an animal? Fine,” he said as he came up behind her, pulling his cock back out before plunging into her, earning a scream that made him know he hit the right spot instantly.

Logan grew an evil smile across his face as he tugged on her hair, making her arch her back before slapping at her ass, causing her to bruise lightly.

“Little sluts get treated like slut, y/n. You could’ve be fucked nice and sweet on the bed earlier, but no — You wanna run,”

Y/n’s mouth slacked as her eyes crossed from how hard the man was pounding on her. “You see that, bub? Look right up there, right into that camera,” he forced her to look at his security.

“Gonna tie you down and make you watch how dumb you look on my dick,” the man spat, making y/n feel the burn in her eyes, but not from embarrassment. From too much pleasure.

“Yeah — Yeah,” the man repeatedly groaned as y/n squeezed him with a shake in her body. “So fuckin’ pathetic, I might have to give you back,” Logan said, knowing he’d never do such a thing. “Nah,” he added drill in her head that she ain’t goin’ nowhere.

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏɴᴇ / ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏɴᴇ, sᴍᴜᴛ ᴏɴʟʏ

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ

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