#she's sick and she needs help but she doesn't believe she's sick and she doesn't want help

[mickyschumacher]

Hey could you write something about reader x hector fort where they are not together but they both have feeling for each other. Reader is a curvy girl and she doesn't believe he could fall in love with her because she doesn't thought someone could love her with her body but he tries to convince her that she's loveable. I don't know how, it could end but it could be so cool if it was a long story

(Sorry if i made mistake english isnt my first language)

[YOU ARE IN LOVE!]

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: sometimes all it takes is an angel on a rainy day to make things alright. or in which you're convinced you and hector don't belong together and he tries to prove otherwise.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: angst, fluff, reader has body image and self esteem issues, mentions of a eating disorder (not eating around hector), reader in general has assumptions about her body, being curvy is discreetly put throughout the fic until the end, lots of love and body positivity from hector // not really proof-read

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: hector fort x fem!reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 4.4k+

𝐀/𝐍: so this one was slightly out of my comfort zone. kinda a bit too real for my liking 😭 i've never written about a curvy or bigger reader despite being one bc well... i'm still trying to love myself. self-love is a never ending journey and i hope you are all being kind to yourselves! i hope anon likes this request! lmk your thoughts and feedback if you want! much love to you all <3333

🏎️ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | ⚽️ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

You could remember the day you met Hector like it was yesterday.

You were having the worst day that you had ever had. Okay maybe that was a tad bit dramatic but still...

You had woken up thirty minutes past your alarm which had left your heart hammering in your chest with anxiety. Why? You were late to your lecture (again). But you still had an hour left. Immediately in distress, you were out of bed, clambering your way to your bathroom when you stubbed your toe on the counter. The sheer screech of pain that had fell from your lips had your mother yelling from the living room, asking if you were okay while you clutched your foot, hobbling on one leg.

You were then brushing your teeth and flinging through your clothes after taking a peak through your window. A clear sunny day. And yet your best shirt was in the goddamn wash. Fuck.

Opting for whatever was presentable and comfortable, you were out the door, dismissing your father's plea to have breakfast and ignoring your younger brother's laugh when you had to come back to actually put your shoes on. You eyed him with annoyance, not bothered to argue back with him today.

You were lightly sweating by the time you had reached the bus stop a few roads down. Grumbling when you saw your bus inch further and further away from you. Close to hurling yourself off a bridge when rain began pelting down, damp dark spots littering your clothing. You looked at the sky with incredulity.

Why on earth was the universe so against you? How were you ever supposed to get to your lecture now?

Then an angel came.

And he came in the form of a mop of dark curls, pierced ears, a chiseled face, and the prettiest smile you had ever seen.

Had you died at your bus stop and gone to heaven?

His car came at a stop in front of you, windows smoothly rolling down. The stranger's elbow rested on the open part of the door, looking at you with a small smile. "Need some help?"

Oh Christ. He even had a pretty voice? What unfair world were you living in?

You blinked away the rain, clearing your throat before shaking your head. Your hand sheltered your hair and your eyes from the droplets falling on you as you stood in front of him half-drenched. "I-I'm good," you awkwardly said back, shifting on your feet.

He raised a brow in curiosity. "In the rain?"

Your cheeks burned against the cold water. You shrugged. "Another bus will come." That was true. And by the time it came, you would've missed two lectures instead of one.

"You'll get sick," he taunted with a teasing smile.

You narrowed your eyes. "Better than getting murdered by a stranger," you quipped back, holding your bag close to you.

The stranger paused at your words before belting out a hearty laugh. Even his laugh was attractive. Was that even possible? He tilted his head at you, darting his hand out, letting the rain hit his skin. "I'm Hector," he said, nodding slowly at your pointed look on his hands. Retracting his arm, he grinned. "Now you know my name. So will you let me drop you off so I can so brag about it to my friends?"

You raised a brow in amusement. "Like a hero?"

"Yes. A damsel in distress," he retorted with a small smile.

You rolled your eyes, body flinching at the rain getting a bit harder. You could feel the fabric of your clothes beginning to stick to you, making you feel uncomfortable.

Hector noticed the look on your face. "I have a heater," he added, pursing his lips together.

You looked at him with contemplation. Would you seriously die if you hopped into an attractive man's car? You could. Or you could die back home when your mother found out you missed your lectures and managed to get sick all on the same day.

"Fine," you relented with a defeated sigh. "Only because you have a heater and can drive me. Now drive slow. You pulled in like a maniac," you huffed, feet quickly walking around his car.

"I did not." Hector gasped at your words, leaning over to open the door for you.

"You totally did!" You replied, shuddering at the last inch of cold air before the heat of his car welcomed you. You took a seat, your movements animated, unsure what really do except for put your seatbelt on.

Hector leaned back, brown eyes raking over you with a small smile while you sat oblivious to him. He sighed quietly to himself, turning his body in his seat to face his steering wheel before looking at you again. "Now did this princess passenger have a name?"

He grinned at the curse words you muttered under your breath. You gave him a slightly miffed look. "___."

Hector tested your name on his tongue, unaware of the shiver running down your spine while he did. He nodded in satisfaction, hand moving down to shift the gear in a few seconds, foot firm on the break. "Well then. Miss ___. Where are we going?"

━━━━━━━━━━━

Now you were here. Good friends with Hector for a little more than a year now. It was a surprise more to you than to him. He had the face of an angel but sometimes he knew exactly what buttons to push to annoy the living hell out of you.

Speaking of surprises. The biggest one was finding out Hector played football for Barça. He was a footballer that offered to drop you to your lectures every day (although you would pray before he turned on the engine - he called you dramatic, you called it safety). It was an odd thing at first. When people asked him for photos in the middle of the street. But the more you got to know him and the more training sessions you attended, you could understand him a little more. Why he loved football so much. Why he loved Barça.

Your friendship was almost exactly the way it was when you first met. Neither of you satisfied until you had the last word. Sarcastic. Annoying. And just unreal. But then there were times where the air between you felt easy, full of warmth and unspoken comfort. You didn't always need to speak. You could just sit there, next to one another and breathe. You admired that about him.

Just another thing you could add to the list of features and characteristics you liked about him.

You peered over at Hector quietly from afar. You were at training practice with him. They had finally just ended. He stood in the sun, sweat dripping down his golden skin while he scarfed down his water, parched.

God, he was beautiful.

"How long are you going to stare for?" A familiar voice whispered next to you.

You blinked, leaning back, turning your head to find Alejandro, one of Hector's friends, next you in the stands. You raised a brow. An attempt to keep up your pretence despite your skin flushing with heat. "I'm not staring."

Now it was Alejandro's turn to raise a brow. "Sure," he nodded, folding his arms. "Just like how Hector isn't staring at me like he's going to kill me."

You told yourself he was lying. But you couldn't help but discreetly turn your head, getting a glance of Hector from your peripheral. Jaw tensed, eyes squinting between the both of you. He did look like he was going to do something.

You shrugged, returning your attention back to Alejandro. "I think the sun's getting to him."

Alejandro stared at you blankly before shaking his head. Aloof. That's what you were. "Well, I'm going to go before I get killed. I'll see you around."

You gave him a small smile, watching him stand up while you waved goodbye. And before you knew it, Hector had made his way to you, slightly breathless like he had rushed to get across the few metres of grass. "Hey," he greeted with a small swallow, pretty smile beaming at you like always.

"Hey," you said back softly. You eyed him carefully. The wear on his face. "Too tired for the movie? It's okay if you are."

You were going to watch a reshowing of Pride and Prejudice (the 2005 one because it was your favourite). The idea had only come about when you found it online and Hector had said he had never watched it. A fact you found unfathomable and in need of immediate correction. You had gone over and above, begging him to watch it with you. He only smiled so gently that it made you warm all over and agreed.

"No, no," he quickly said, shoulders relaxing. He leaned on the fence with his arms, brown eyes softly looking at the way the sun shined over you. "I want to go. I'll just get changed and we'll go, okay?"

"Can I drive?" You queried.

"I thought you liked being my princess passenger," he pouted.

You narrowed your eyes, hoping your heart didn't betray the way you felt like you would combust when he said 'my princess passenger' or how cute he looked in front of you with his lips jutted out.

You blinked. "I'd rather not die today," you retorted.

Hector gave you a pointed look, amusement still quirking on his lips. "We're not still taking about this, are we?"

You grinned, laugh falling from your mouth. "How bad of a driver you are? Oh yes we certainly are."

Hector rolled his eyes. "Fine. Only if we get something to eat on the way."

Hector watched your body still, awkward. Like you didn't know how to respond. You did it every time he asked you to grab something to eat. You'd always shake your head, saying you weren't particularly hungry. Like you were just about to.

You never ate with him too. He didn't really understand why. But he never seemed to push it. He didn't want to make you uncomfortable. But to say he wasn't worried would be a lie.

"You can," you said with a tight smile. "I don't feel like eating right now."

Hector paused before nodding. "I'll meet you by the car, hmm?"

"Okay," you replied, taking a step back to turn towards the exit. You could feel his eyes watch you and you hoped he couldn't see you release the shaky breath that you had been holding in.

━━━━━━━━━━━

The movie had been perfect. For the both of you.

You sat in the middle of the theatre, eyes all wide and excited, making Hector chuckle quietly to himself. And while you watched the movie, he couldn't help but watch you.

You were so immersed you could barely tell.

Hector found himself memorising the way you held your breath at every romantic scene, particularly during Darcy's confession. How the edges of your mouth quivered out of pure joy and happiness. Or how your eyes danced across the screen, a slow exhale falling from your lips like the sound of a dreamy sigh. Not exactly because of Mr Darcy. But because of his love for Elizabeth.

Hector noticed. You loved love. Your bookshelves were full of them. You resorted to it when life became stressful. Your playlists all specifically attuned to the way love manifested itself in the universe. Even when he drove, all it took was one of your playlists and you had your head resting, throat humming happily, eyes fixated on all the scenery out the window.

You were just so... happy.

"So..." you started as you both came out of the theatre. "What did you think?" You queried, excited for his answer. This was your favourite movie of all time. You watched it every year without fail. If you tried, you might even be able to recite it off by heart.

Hector hummed, pretending to think – hand on his chin. "It was... okay, I guess."

"Okay?" You gasped, hitting him playfully repeatedly in the arm and rib. "Just okay? How dare you!"

Hector chuckled, grabbing your hands with one fell swoop, tugging them close to his chest, bringing you closer to him. He took in your silence and wide eyes. He hadn't even watched the movie properly. Yet he smiled. "I thought it was beautiful."

The way he said it... why did it feel like he wasn't talking about the movie?

You blinked, swallowing. You mustered a fake smile, prying your hands out of his grasp. "Y-Yeah. The movie is beautiful," you mumbled idly, walking further.

Hector kept his frown at bay, missing the warmth of your skin on his instantly. He watched you walk over to his car, turning to hurry him up. Your hair slightly disheveled from being seated in the theatre. But in the evening sky, you shined just like you did in the afternoon. Like you commanded light itself.

It was strange. It was like you belonged here... in this moment. With him.

Hector could feel his throat tighten. He didn't want this night to end. Not now. "Do you wanna take a walk? They have a garden nearby," he breathed out nervously.

You tilted your head at his offer, watching him walk closer to you. "I would. But it's kinda cold. I didn't think it'd be this cold in July," you mumbled with a frown.

Hector eyed you silently, his fingers brushing the hem of his hoodie before he stretched his arms and shrugged off the thick layer.

"What are you–" You had barely blinked when you watched him bundle the warm fabric in his hands and gently put it on your head, slowly pulling his hoodie down on you.

The air was silent for a moment. Hector didn’t say anything at first. He didn't need to. The way his eyes moved said everything—slow, deliberate, like he was taking in every detail. The hoodie just hung off your frame, hugging you the way he only ever dreamed about.

"There," Hector said, satisfied. "Suits you better anyways."

Your lips parted at his words, skin flushing with a heat that made you feel hot in his hoodie. You felt like an imposter in his clothes. Like it was wrong. Yet you couldn't say anything. You didn't trust your voice when he was this close to you. Not when his cologne invaded your senses.

You cleared your throat, taking a step back. Hector took a long blink, reminding himself of where he was. He breathed in slowly, brown eyes still on you. "So... that walk?"

━━━━━━━━━━━

Today was the first game of the season. Barça vs Mallorca. The former had won, of course. Nothing unusual there. Hector hadn't gotten to play. You could tell he was frustrated from where you sat in the stands. All slumped up in his chair, silent with a blank face, jersey covering him.

Your heart broke for him. You knew how badly he wanted to play. To prove himself. But things weren't going his way.

As the game ended and the stadium began to empty out, you ventured to find Hector, hoping you could bring a little bit of joy back into that pretty face of his.

You waited with the last rounds of fans, flickering your eyes occasionally to the field, sending a small wave to Alejandro and Lamine when they spotted you.

"Oh my God. Who's that girl next to Hector?" A girl's voice queried behind you.

The question had you look over to Hector and indeed a girl was standing next to him, talking enthusiastically to him.

"That must be his girlfriend," another girl squealed, head jerking to get a better view.

"Of course! Attractive people always find each other!"

While you knew deep down that the girl wasn't Hector's girlfriend. You couldn't help watch them talk as those words replayed in your head while your heart dropped slowly. Attractive people... like her. Because girls like her got guys like Hector.

You could feel your eyes well, hot and beginning to blurry. Your skin was heating up while your nose began to run. Your throat hurt, raw. You felt sick. Like you were going to throw up.

Fuck. You couldn't believe you were crying over this. But it was the truth... wasn't it?

Thinner girls were better. Because that was prettier. Not you. Not the excess of you. It didn't matter how many meals you didn't eat. Because clothes should hang off you and not stick to you.

━━━━━━━━━━━

Hector didn't know what happened after the game. It was like you had dropped off the face of the earth. Alejandro had said you had gone home without saying goodbye.

He tried texting you but you wouldn't respond. He called you but you wouldn't pick up. He went to your house, but you never opened the door.

You were avoiding him.

And he didn't understand.

Hector had ran over the past few weeks over and over again. Analysing every possible thing he could've done wrong. But nothing... nothing could've warranted this.

You were fine before the game. Giving him that beautiful smile of yours, letting him hear your laugh that sound like music to his ears.

Where did he go wrong?

It had been two weeks since the game. And you still hadn't said a word. You didn't show up when he waited outside your house to drop you off. He had no idea how you were getting to your lectures. It was like you had cut him off.

There was only one thing Hector could do.

It was raining because of course it was. It was just your luck. You had said goodbye to the group you sat with during your lecture. You wanted to go home. The last two weeks had been tiring. Assignments were piling up. You had even turned your phone off to keep you from any... distractions.

"Seriously," you grumbled as it rained harder on you, hand sheltering your eyes. The campus was empty at this time of day. Mostly everyone had gone home, probably more aware than you about this horrid weather.

"Need some help?"

You whipped your head at the familiar voice, hand falling from your face to your side in shock. You blinked rapidly, rain sneaking between your eyelashes, dripping down your face. "Hector," you mumbled so quietly, you could barely recognise your own voice.

He stared at you quietly, standing in front of you, hands stuffed in the pocket of his hoodie while he welcomed the rain to drench him from head to toe, unbothered. He took out his phone from his pocket, dangling the device at you. "Fifty messages. Twenty-seven phone calls. Ten days where I waited for you outside your house. And you didn't respond to any of them. Not one."

You sucked in a sharp breath. You could hear it in his voice. Pain. Exhaustion. "Hector, I–"

"What's going on?" He interrupted, inching closer to you. His hand darted to your forehead. "A-Are you sick? Did something happen? Tell me what's wrong and I'll fix it."

Your jaw tightened at his words, skin automatically burning at his touch. "Nothing's wrong, Hector. Leave it alone," you murmured, turning your head away from him.

Hector watched you silently before speaking. "Something's wrong. You're not talking to me. I hate that I'm not hearing your voice every day," he exasperated, cold, wet hands grabbing your own.

You sighed. Heart clenching at his words. You retracted your hand. "Don't say stuff like that. I hate when you say stuff like that."

"Like what?" He quickly retorted, trying to understand even a little bit of this situation.

"Things that make you sound like you care more than you do," you whispered more to yourself than him, rain pelting down, almost making you inaudible.

But Hector listened. Because of course he did.

Hector furrowed his brows. His fingers tilted your chin gently so you faced him once again. "Of course I care. I care a lot about you. Why is that so wrong?" He asked quietly.

Your eyes welled yet again. You were only so lucky to have the assistance of the rain, hiding your tears. But the flash of concern in Hector's face made you think otherwise. You sniffled, wiping your nose with your wet sleeve. "Because I have to keep telling myself that you don't care for a girl like me."

"'A girl like you?'" Hector slowly repeated with confusion. "I-I don't- W-What does that mean?"

You laughed dryly, salty tears slowly blending in with the rain. "Come on, Hector. You know what I mean. A guy like you and a girl like me don't work. You're supposed to be with models," you angrily sighed out.

Hector blinked, registering your words. His hand fell from your chin, lips parted in disbelief. He could've sworn he literally felt his heart break into pieces. "Is that what this is about?"

You weren't even given time to respond before he continued to piece everything together. The way you hated when clothes stuck to you. The reason why you never ate around him.

You watched him take a step back, eyes wide like he was so deeply hurt. The words were on the tip of his tongue but he couldn't get them out.

"You know it's true, Hector. I'm not beautiful enough to be with you," you whispered, voice cracking, throat choked.

Hector's breath was caught. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. His throat was beginning to hurt. His eyes burned. "You're not serious," he gasped as if he needed to breathe again. A pained laugh fell from his lips, reddened brown eyes firmly planted on you.

"How do I tell you?" He croaked, tongue swiping over his lip. His teeth sunk to his bottom lip while he paused, hands on his hips. "How do I tell you that you're the most beautiful girl I've ever met?"

You shut your eyes, shaking your head. Your hair was soaked, sticking to your face as you did. "No. Hector, stop."

Hector swallowed thickly, inching closer to you. "You are. You don't see it, fuck, you don't see yourself the way I do. You haven't felt your own skin. Soft. Pretty. Sexy. You haven't seen yourself watch your favourite movies, smiling ear to ear. You haven't heard yourself laugh. You watch and read all this romance but ___, you are love."

You couldn't help but sob, your body and heart finally betraying you entirely. You weeped in front of him, the taste of salt and rain lingering on your tongue. "Hector, I... I don't feel that pretty," you admitted with a small gasp for air.

Hector wasn't sure how much of his heart he had left. He was torn. Your voice... so firm in your self-hatred. And it killed him.

Hector wiped his tears harshly with his sleeve. His hand darted to your face, holding you like you were about to break. He pressed his forehead on yours, unbothered at the way your skin stuck to one another. His eyes fell to yours, thumb reaching out to brush away your hot tears.

"Let me show you," he whispered against your lips. "Please," he sighed out.

You swallowed the lump in your throat. You stayed silent for a moment, letting his plea ring in your ears. Letting your body realise that he was serious.

"Okay."

And that was the moment something inside Hector had snapped –not in a hurried urgency, but in importance. He didn’t let you think too much. He just moved.

His fingers curled further into your face, he leaned in slow at the start, cautious, and desperate. He crashed his lips into yours, catching you mid-breath.

You froze for a second, trying to understand that his lips were really on yours and no one else's. Yours. And then you kissed him back. Hard. Your hands found his waist, gripping the sides of his wet hoodie tightly like you were trying to ground yourself. Like you would collapse any second.

His thumbs brushed your cheeks oh so gently, and he kissed you like it mattered. Like he wanted to make sure you felt all of it. All of your doubt, the worries, the stress – all of it slowly being healed.

Hector wondered if you could tell. Wondered if you could see how scared he was of losing you. How his hands shook touching you. Hoe you seem to make his breath stutter.

And you did.

And in that moment, you could finally start to understand what he meant. What all those words he said about you meant. What it felt like to be kissed like when the person you adored felt the same way. Just like in all those movies and books.

His voice was coarse, low, and almost pleading when he spoke again. "Please don't say those things about yourself," he said, brown eyes not even blinking as if he were scared you'd disappear. "Let's learn to love together."

You looked at him, standing there in the rain with that annoying albeit good-looking jaw and worried eyes, voice quieter than usual. Let's learn to love together. It wasn’t really that dramatic – his words that is. Nor was it a grand speech. But for some reason, his words tugged at your chest in a way that made you ache. You felt sorry that you had even caused such pain and misery in those beautiful eyes.

Your heart thudded against your chest, almost louder than the rain, you could've sworn. You gave a small smile against his lips, relishing his hands still holding your face. "Okay," you whispered. "As long as I have driving rights seventy percent of the time."

Hector's body rumbled with a small laugh, warming against the rain. He couldn't care that he was drenched, or that water dripped off him, or that his shoes squished in the most uncomfortable of ways.

You were here. With him. That's all he cared about.

"You could just teach me to drive better, you know," Hector teased, fingers brushing away your matted hair from your face.

"I think I prefer you being my princess passenger," you joked quietly, toying with the wet fabric of his hoodie while a calm wave settled over you.

It wasn't going to be easy. Loving yourself. Seeing yourself the way Hector did. But with him by your side, you were willing to try.

© 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐘𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑

[returnofeternity]

thinking about mean!antler queen nat making reader beg for her forgiveness after acting out (getting in a fight with shauna) and once she’s satisfied she finally fucks her but instead of using her hands she uses her knife handle… or makes reader ride/grind against her rifle…

nat who actually has to punish you sometimes because she can't always get away with favoritism just because you're dating 😒 maybe she's just sick of you poking the bear and dealing with the two of you and needs to teach you how to act right. she doesn't accept your apology this time around. it's usually so easy to get her to sigh and forgive you for the shit you pull, but not tonight.

"no," nat clenches her jaw, eyes ignited with rage. "you're not getting off easy this time." you scoff and grin at her, not believing her for a second. rolling your eyes, you push past her shoulder and plop on the makeshift bed, throwing your arms behind your head and looking up at her with one eye open. "whatever. i'll make it up to you tomorrow. i'm tired." you close your eyes and get comfortable on the bed, which just makes nat furious. "get the fuck up and apologize." nat's mean and rough voice makes your body jolt, and when you open your eyes and sit up, you know you're face to face with your leader, not your girlfriend. "nat, i already said i was sorry." you sigh deeply, throwing your feet off the bed. "say it like you mean it." she hisses, stalking toward you. it suddenly feels too hot and stuffy in this hut. "get on your knees and apologize." nat's dark eyes bore into yours, staring you down so intently that it makes your stomach twist in fear. before you can even get out the words you want as you open your mouth, nat snaps at you. "now." she points down to her feet, and you slide off the bed and down to your knees in front of her. you glare at her, feeling pathetic for having to apologize in such a degrading manner. nat raises her brows expectantly, and you clench your jaw, trying to bite back what you really wanna say. "i'm sorry." you murmur. nat shakes her head. "no. i'm sorry, my queen. say it." you swallow hard, lips shaking as you open your mouth. you don't know how she does it. how she makes you slip so easily into subspace with just a few words or a mean look. "i'm sorry, my queen." you scoot closer to her on your knees until they touch her boots. you already know she wants you to continue, so you do it before she has to ask. "please forgive me. i know i fucked up, but i promise i'll listen to you from now on." it's all babble, you're just trying to get on her good side. but right now, you just want to make her believe. and feel good, because obviously, with the way her nostrils are flaring and the way her lips quiver, she's getting something out of this.

apologizing and repeating "forgive me, my queen" over and over until you're basically humping her boot, or until all you can do is mumble "sorry" over and over again because your brain is all fuzzy...

she takes a little pity on you when you start sniffling and rubbing your cheek against her pant leg, and tells you that you can get up, that you did well. she helps you sit on the bed, tells you to stay still while she gets something.

when you see her walk back in, knife gleaming in hand, anxiety hits you. she shushes you, aware of your nervous expression. "i'm not gonna use it on you. not the blade anyway." she flips it in her hand, carefully holding it as she walks toward you. she points the handle at you, smiling. "take your pants and underwear off." you nod submissively and lift your hips, tugging down your undergarments in one go. nat watches you kick them off impatiently, struggling to get them past your feet. she considers helping you out and slicing them off, but winter's approaching, and you need any clothing you have. too bad.

thinking about her rubbing the handle of the knife in circles around your clit while she yells at you for being such a brat 😵‍💫 scolding you for acting out and making her look bad while she sinks the handle into your hole, making you clench and freeze because getting cut anywhere near here would be hell...

but she's careful with you <3

nat who leaves the handle in your pussy while she makes out with you and gives you hickeys, nat who finds it so fucking hot when the knife keeps falling out because you're so wet and keep throbbing >_<

whining so much and so hard when she slaps the handle on your clit, nat who just admires the way your thighs shake when she pulls away and watches you hump the air because you miss her touch :3

you're very obedient the next day. you don't even act out when shauna walks past you and mumbles that "thank god nat finally put you on a leash." (she for sure listened in, rubbed her thighs together each time she heard you moan her name while nat got you to apologize for acting out against shauna...) all you can think about is how nat touched you last night and how sore your legs are. you probably couldn't even try and jump shauna if you tried.

[servuscallidus]

I never liked Melanie as a person but was very intrigued by her as a character, since she's as deep and well written as any other on the show, (until fandom made me hate her). I'd forgotten though that the dislike was immediate + from her first appearance we get to know one of her most fundamental (and insufferable) traits, that is that she does exactly what Jon does, worse-ish* even, but she thinks she's better than him because, well, because it's her and she just is. Which will come back full force later on to such wonderful effects

[equalperson]

sometimes I believe that My tendency to avoid telling My family when I'm having health issues is just the result of avoidant cognitive distortions, but then I actually do it, get told that it's "normal" and/or a lifestyle issue, and realize the real cognitive distortion was expecting help at all -_-

[heartsmourne]

why does cleaning take so much time and effort and energy, and then it doesn't frigging last more than a few days. unfair.

[glamorizethechaos]

Lonely No More | Jack Abbot x Single Mother Reader

Chapter One: Transformer

Summary: A struggling single mother with the world on her shoulders leans on those closest to her for help. Jack stepping up and making sure you down drown above water.

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: single mother, age gap, dead beat dad, fluff, angst

"Mama, I dont wanna go." your son whimpered from the backseat as you drove to the hospital for your night shift. Working nightshift as a single mother wasn't ideal, but when a senior resident spot opened up you had to jump at the opportunity. It's for Daniel you justified. The nights away from him were hard, and the little sleep you'd get during the day were even harder. Each day when you walked into the Pitt your smile said one thing, but your eyes said another.

"You'll have so much fun, Danny, I promise." you glanced at his teary eyes through the rearview mirror. As you walked into PTMC with Daniel in tow and his bag slung over your shoulder, his grip on you got tighter. You tried your best to keep him out of the hospital, even during pick up and drop offs with your sister. It was normally her who watched your son on the nights you worked, but with a gnarly case of the flu, you were left stranded. You burned through all your sick and vacation time for the nights your sister was out of town, or Daniel just needed you.

As you sat him on the counter of the nurses station you introduced him to Dana, who happened to be your saving grace for the night.

"Are you sure about this, Dana? It's asking a lot."

"It's not asking when I offered." she assured in the midst of saying hello to Danny. "My oldest is ecstatic, I'm still convinced that 14 years later she’s still pissed I gave her a younger sister instead of brother."

"Daniel, can you say hello to Miss. Dana? She has two girls who are so excited to play with you tonight! Doesn't that sound fun?"

Daniel buried his face into the crook of your neck as Dana ruffled his red hair.

"Who's this?" Jack asked as he walked in for his shift, Danny peaking at the other unfamiliar voice.

"This is my son, Daniel." you smiled at him. "Daniel say hello to Dr. Abbot."

"Jack is fine. Hey bud, I used to have cool hair like you, ya know?"

"You were a red head?" you cocked a brow, only knowing his salt and pepper curls.

"Believe it or not." he glanced at the admissions board while signing in on the computer. He noticed your sons damp cheeks and the way you swayed side to side trying to sooth him. You knew the second it was time to leave he'd be a mess, it was still 6 months away but you were already racked with anxiety over him starting pre school.

“Alright baby.” You handed Daniel over to Dana, to which he started screaming and gripping onto your scrubs. It was enough to make your heart break.

“No mama! I wanna stay with you!” He started to kick his way from Dana’s grasp.

“Hey bud,” Jack spoke up after seeing the tears well in your eyes. “Your mom said you like transformers, is that right?”

Your son nodded, wiping his snotty nose on your pant leg.

“You know I’m part transformer myself?” Jack said, pulling up his scrub pants to expose his metal prosthesis. As Daniel’s eyes widened with excitement, yours softened at his kind gesture.

“Where is the rest of the armor?” He asked immediately reaching out with his nimble fingers to touch it.

"Megatron stole it, but listen buddy-- let’s make a deal, okay?" Jack said holding out his hand for your son to shake on it. "You go have a sleepover with our friend Dana, and tomorrow if you're good, I can show you the rest of my transformer collection, how does that sound?"

Daniel could hardly control his excitement as he jumped up and down eagerly.

"Can we mama?"

"As long as its okay with Dr. Abbot." you smiled, planting a sloppy wet kiss on his cheek and inhaling the sweet smell of his shampoo one last time until morning. "You can call me before bed and first thing in the morning, okay? Mommy packed your monster spray for Dana to spray all the closets and under all the beds. Mr. Kitty (who happened to be his favorite stuffed dog) is in your bag too."

There was a bit of hesitation from the both of you before your son reluctantly took Dana’s hand. Internally you were a wreck, waiting for the inevitable call from Dana that he was inconsolable and you’d have to pick him up.

“He’ll be fine.” Jack assured you with a brief shoulder squeeze. And the call never came. In fact you got lots of photos throughout the evening of your son playing with Dana’s girls— they baked cookies with him and ate far too many in the fort they all built. The final photo of him tucked into her bed fast asleep with the message:

“Husband is on the couch tonight”

You smiled at your phone. When the chaos of the night began to settle down, and the sun began to peek over the horizon, you found Jack to thank him. He was on the roof of course, it had become a ritual for him at this point. You handed him a cup of stale coffee and stuffed your hands in your pockets as the wind whipped between the buildings.

“Really Dr. Abbot, thank you. That was quick thinking earlier today. I can’t believe you remembered he liked Transformers. Not even his dad knows that.”

Jack grimaced slightly about the remark regarding his father. No one knew who he was, no one ever met him, no one even knew his name. Albeit your bubbly and inquisitive nature, your personal life was a mystery to lots of people in the ER. On occasion you’d mention something that helped solve your mystery. Or rather your sons… you really only talked about Daniel, your eyes lighting up each time. About him starting soccer, the woes of potty training, or his love for Transformers.

“You mentioned something awhile back to Dana about his birthday. Just so happened to overhear.”

“So you were eavesdropping…”

“No… ‘observing’” he chuckled as you smacked his arm playfully.

“I just hate leaving him like that, ya know?” You began to unravel, voice cracked ever so slightly that most wouldn’t notice, of course Jack did. His head jerked towards you quickly at the sound of your unwavering voice, his stomach churning at how beautiful you looked despite the 12 hour shift.

“Yeah I’m sure it’s tough…” he offered support.

“But this is my dream, ya know? I’m growing a future for him, for us. I just—“ you paused trying to find the right words, a single tear escaping from your eye. “Ya know, I try and give 100% at work, I mean you’ve got to, I hold people’s lives in my hands every day…” another tear, “but then I go home and try to give 100% for my son. At the end of the day, I can’t do both. One always is gonna fall short. And I worry that it’s my son I’m not giving my all for.” Soon the floodgates opened.

Jack wrapped his arm around you with a sigh, kissing your temple before resting his chin on the top of your head.

“Enough of that… you’re a great doctor and a great mom. Daniel worships you. You wanna know how I know you’re a good mom?”

“How?”

“Because bad parents aren’t worried about being a good mom or dad. They’re aren’t worried about giving their all, or not spending enough time. Listen, we see our fair share of shitty parents in our line of work, you certainly don’t fall in line with any of them. Not even close.”

You didn’t say anything, just looked down at your feet. The tip of your nose began to grow pink, a tell tale sign it was time to go back down. He walked you back down as you waited for Daniel and Dana to arrive back at work.

“Mama!” You heard the familiar voice flooding in from the ambulance bay. He ran over and leapt into your arms, knocking you backwards in Dr Abbot.

“Did you have fun, baby? I saw all your pictures!”

“Mhm” Daniel nodded “Dana snores.”

The whole nursing station erupted in laughter as Dana’s mouth fell open.

“I do not! You sound like my husband little man.”

“How about breakfast?” Jack asked grabbing Daniel’s backpack from your hands. “I think the big boy deserves some pancakes.”

“Oh Jack you d-“

“Yes please! Yes please!” He squealed, more so coming out at yes pwease, yes pwease. “Then can I see your transformer legs?”

“A promise is a promise.”

————

After a breakfast of maple syrup and a side of pancakes, Daniel was itching to get to Jacks. He clung to you, hands around your neck as Jack ushered you into his front door. His house was spotless, like he was back in his army barracks waiting for his morning inspection. You had to beg your toddler to keep his hands to himself.

When you followed Jack into his bedroom you blushed. It felt so intimate, and that you shouldn’t be there. His bed was crispy made. Your eyes began to wander as you fought to keep focused. He peaked at his dresser and saw he wore a Tom Ford cologne that smelled of vanilla and sandalwood.

“Okay bud, here is the collection.” He opened his closet, your son’s eyes widening as he plopped down on his knees. First Jack pulled out his running prosthesis. “This one here looks pretty funny huh? It helps me run from the bad guys quickly. It kinda looks like a J for ‘Jack’” he traced his finger along the outside of the blade. Jack set it aside and picked up another one.

“This was my first transformer leg, so it’s pretty old and doesn’t fit as good as it used to. And this is my back up in case something happens to the one I’m wearing. You can pick them up and look at them, buddy.”

“Can you put this one on?” Daniel asked, trying to awkwardly pick up his running prosthesis, which Jack was quick to oblige. He removed the socket and liner and exposed his stump so Daniel could see. It was the first time he’d ever seen something like that before. Jack was eager to answer all this questions.

“What’s that line?”

“That’s my scar.”

“Does it hurt?”

“Nope can’t feel a thing. You can touch it if you want.”

Daniel ran his fingers, still sticky from breakfast, along his leg in amazement. Squeaking and poking around the rounded limb.

“What did they do with your other foot? Throw it in the trash?”

“They blew it up.”

“The bad guys did?”

“Yep. In a place called Kandahar.”

“Is that on planet Cybertron?”

“Close. Afghanistan.”

Jack attached the new prosthetic and showed your son how he could run and jump. The two of them took turns seeing who could jump the highest.

You rubbed your eyes, the night shift finally catching up to you. Knowing your son had all the energy in the world and you wouldn’t have time to rest made your head throb. The days you survived on pure will and coffee, and during the nights you survived on red bull and adrenaline. The last time you got a full nights sleep was before your son was born. You had no family in Pittsburgh aside from your sister, and friends were had to come by when your schedule didn’t allow for socialization.

When you opened your eyes, Jack was staring at you, Daniel on the floor trying to put on one of Jacks legs.

“You okay?” He whispered.

“Mhm, just tired.” You crossed your arms, catching a chill. Jack glanced down and looked at your son, chuckling at his sheer determination.

“Are you able to rest before your shift tonight?”

“I’ll be fine.”

Jack shook his head, and without a word started digging through his drawers and plopped some sweats and a t-shirt at the end of the bed, before ripping back the sheets.

“Just change out of those scrubs before getting into bed.”

“Huh?” You were confused.

“Danny, bud. Wanna help me with some yard work? Mommy is gonna sleep a bit, okay?”

“Wait Jack… you can’t— I can’t—I mean— what?”

“I’m off tonight. I can sleep later. You can’t take care of him after working a 12 hour shift only to do it again tonight and tomorrow. I have some stuff to do outside, he can help. Just again, make you change out of those scrubs first. Tell Mommy good night.”

Jack scooped up Daniel and the two wished you good night before softly shutting the door. Leaving you stunned in the middle of Jacks bedroom.

[nedo21god]

I love @madamadamiu AU so muchhhh—thank you for sharing it with us!!1!! I've been thinking about some headcanons for it and wanted to drop them here

1.Rodimus is terrified of fire. His first family perished in a house fire—one he accidentally caused by knocking over a candle late at night. The blaze devoured everything before help could arrive. Orion found him alone in the ashes and brought him to the shelter.

2. Nickel is a vet. She got tired of seeing the DJD strays wandering the streets, sick or injured, so she took them in. Gave them top-tier treatment and a warm place to rest. She never forces them to stay—but they always come back to her.

3.Ravage once had a breakdown. Something about family, school—no one really knows. What everyone remembers is Megatron approaching silently, curling around Ravage and—for the first time—purring. He even licked his forehead, awkward and rough. Ravage cried himself to sleep in his paws.

4. Sometimes Rung does that. He lies down on the floor and calls the cats to come lie on top of him

5. Froid runs his own shelter... But his methods are twisted. He believes in breaking cats to make them obedient, "better" pets. He calls it training. The others call it cruelty.

6. Orion kept trying to adopt Megatron. Every time, it ended in chaos—shredded furniture, broken lamps, ruined walls. And Megatron, sitting calmly amid the wreckage like he expected this to happen

7.The Wreckers are a rescue organization. They step in when cats are abused or in danger. They were the ones who saved Fortress Maximus from Overlord.

8.Ultra Magnus began comforting Megatron during storms. Bad weather hits, and Megatron curls in tight. Magnus, grumpy but reliable, lets him press close and hums quietly through the thunder.

9. Overlord once tried to adopt from the Lost Light shelter. He came in, suave and smiling, said he wanted Rewind—and maybe Chromedome too. But when the gentle giant Fortress Maximus, usually soft and polite, suddenly attacked Overlord, Rung didn’t hesitate. He threw Overlord out.

10.Fort Max and Red Alert were adopted by Cerebros. He sends Rung daily photo updates—sleepy cat piles, Red Alert doing recon under the couch, Fort Max trying to fit in a too-small box.

11. Magnus doesn't really like other cats. He tolerates them. He needs his space. He hates being touched. Except by Rodimus. Rodimus climbs on him, sleeps on top of him, bats at his tail, and even steals his food—and Magnus just lets him.

12. Tyrest was Ultra Magnus's original owner. Even before he lost his mind completely, he was… off. He kept adopting cats that all looked the same—large, stern-faced, silent types—and naming every single one “Ultra Magnus. He believed his cat was immortal.

[henrycangelbaby]

Thinking about John Price and his cute little assistant (reader) who ends up pregnant. 

A/N: Guys i was inspired while scrolling on the john price x reader tag, this legit came to me as a vision and now i have to write it (I plan on expanding on this idea so just stay with me!!!!)

Imagine being John Price's cute little assistant, just the sweetest little thing that John is kinda obsessed with. Like don't get me wrong she is amazing at her job, smart, put together and well organized and John does feel that her addition has been a positive one, taking some pressure off his shoulders and making sure his team is always prepared for whatever they are doing. She is very good at what she does, but that doesn’t stop John from admiring her. He knows he shouldn't be bit, he can't help it, she's young and sweet and a little bit innocent and he just wants to protect and love her all the time. 

In the beginning she was shy, only addressing him as sir and knocking on his door hesitantly whenever she needed to speak to him but gradually their boundaries became less and less. More often than not she works out of his office, whether he’s there or not, he insists on buying her an early lunch when she lets slip that she didn't have breakfast that morning. He has even picked her up from a night out once or twice, a little bit tipsy and calling the most trusted person she can think of that just happened to be her boss. He takes care of her as well, helping her get her makeup and clothes off before tucking her into her bed with a bottle of water and pain killers for the morning. He doesn't mention it when he sees her next, knowing how embarrassed she will be when he tells her the loneliness her tipsy self admitted. 

When she starts to get sick John is having absolutely none of it, driving her home and ordering her to take some time off (he even visits later that night to bring her some soup for her stomach). He doesn't expect her to look so sad when she comes back supposedly better from her “flu”, he doesn't expect to see her eyes shine with tears when he asks “what's wrong babygirl?”.  He sits them down on the couch in his office together, putting an arm over her and pulling her close for comfort. He certainly does not expect her to look up at him with those shiny wet eyes and admit she did something bad before crying that she's pregnant. It’s news to John who never even considered that his girl would be dating (let alone sleeping with) people. When he vocalizes this and she admits that her baby daddy isn't a very good guy, it's over for John. 

Suddenly he's all over her, promising to be there for her, that she can come to him whenever she needs. And he actually means it. Suddenly she’s staying in the spare bedroom in his house, not only does it have more room but John can keep an eye on her. She entirely moves into his office working on his desk with him, he gets her a comfy chair so she can be supported in the later months. He gets up to hold her hair back when she has morning sickness and ensures she gets enough nutritious food each day. When she starts showing, oh my god John doesn't know what to do with himself. That little bump peaking out of her tight skirts makes him foam at the mouth. Of course he prioritizes her comfort, insisting she change shoes and stop wearing those uncomfortable looking heels, but he keeps her in her formal work attire for just a little longer, just so he can see her cute tummy poking out of it. 

Speaking of her bump. He simply can't resist putting his hand on it. He feels so protective over it, best believe he goes feral if anyone tries to touch it. Hell all but breaks loose when his precious baby looks up at him with teary eyes telling him how uncomfortable she was when some rando put their hand on her stomach, (someone definitely lost their job that day). He eventually has her sitting in his lap, cooing over her and reassuring her that they won't get in trouble, that really he is the big boss anyways. He just loves having her there, perched on top of him he rests his head on her shoulder both arms coming around to cradle her now bigger bump. 

John mandates maternity leave when she starts getting big, maybe around seven months when she spends a lot of her time complaining about back aches and swollen ankles, of course he does what he can to help her but it gets to the point where he knows that she should be resting. He has to basically forcibly put her on leave, reassuring her panics about money by promising to take care of her. And oh boy does he. He gives her foot massages and holds her belly, when she starts outgrowing her clothes best believe he would hand over any of his so she can fit in them more comfortably. He's just all over her, unable to stomach the fact that soon she will have a real live baby. That baby is about to become the most protected baby in the entire world.

That's all I have for now because I fear if I begin rambling about the rest of the 141 neither of us might make it out alive. (just know this baby is going to be so damn spoiled it’s crazy). 

[dontpulloutman]

spring seventeen (2).

tags: owen taylor x reader. the starling girl. Owen Taylor Is His Own Warning. a/n: *clicks post and runs* … i hope u guys like this

(masterlist)

On the next field trip with the youth group, you take the chance to slip away. The yellow shirt itches on your skin. If you let your eyes close for too long, if you let your mind wander too far, you'll start thinking of Owen. How he left when he used to promise that he would never leave you alone.

He's a liar.

Your reverie is broken by the jingle of a bell above you. Behind the counter, a girl in her early 20s with bright blue hair looks up from her phone. You can feel the heavy stare on your shirt. Then she looks back down as casually as she could. With a deep breath and shaking hands, you walk up to her. Chest and palms pressed against the cold display case, you clear your throat.

"How can I help you?" She takes her attention away from her phone.

"I've been feeling sick a lot lately. And I threw up a few hours ago."

She takes a clipboard from beside the cash register, "Any allergies?" you shake your head no. "Fever?" you shake your head again.

She takes another quick look at the text printed on your stupid yellow shirt. "Sexually active?"

You take a pause. The lump in your throat refuses to let you speak. Through tears, you catch how her own eyes soften. You're speechless when she opens a drawer and places a rectangular box on the counter.

"There's a bathroom near the back."

"Satan has its grasp on you," she moves her accusing finger from your face to the small swell of your belly, "And that creature is its abomination. You are ruined!"

"Momma," you raise your hands, palms open, pleading, "Please, momma..."

She flinches back as if your touch would burn. As if you were the devil itself. "You stay away from me!" she shrieks. Gasping back a cry, you try to get closer to her. You're sorry. You're so sorry. You haven't been sorry yet.

"Get out of my house."

It brings a chill down your spine. Like a coward, you shrink into yourself. Like a mother, you move your hands to protect and cradle the life growing inside you.

"You better leave before your father comes back. Lord knows what he'll do if he sees you like this."

Your spine goes rigid. And then, almost stubbornly, you turn away. And then, you run. You run like its all you've ever known to do.

"What a raging bitch!"

You curl into the pillow pressed against your chest. Eyes following the girl pacing across linoleum tiles. It's only been a week since that fateful day, but she already has platinum streaks in the blue of her hair.

You didn't expect her to be so accommodating. Showing up at her parents' pharmacy on a random Wednesday evening. She quickly brought you in, ushered you into her basement bedroom, screamed a "Don't disturb us!" before she prodded at you to tell her what's going on.

"I can't believe she'd do that to her own daughter!" You can feel the rage in her voice.

"It's fine," you try to placate her. It doesn't work.

"No, the fuck, it isn't! I mean–" she stutters, at a loss for words. She parts her lips to continue her tirade, a new string of curses toward your mother, when she realizes the tears forming in your eyes. She immediately sags at the look on your face.

"What do you wanna do?" She says. Instead of more hate, more profanities, more choice words about your 'cunt of a mother'.

"I want to keep the baby."

"You have other options," she gently reminds you. But the thought of it is bitter. Less than five weeks, and yet you know you won't ever let this child go. The babe is a sacrament of the love you once had.

"I can't... I want... I need to keep it."

Joanna sits on the bed beside you. Slowly, but with such tender care, she places a hand on your knee. "Okay, babes. That's your choice."

There's a moment of silence.

"Do you know any way to contact the father?"

He's completely and utterly fucked. Waking up alone on a random motel bed, only to find that his truck (his one-way ticket out of dodge) was missing from where he parked it last night. He's tried to call the cheap cell he bought for Jemima, only for it to beep in his ear. Out of service, out of range. He's in deep shit. Running his hands through his hair, he lists down all of his options.

Hell has to burn over before he returns back home. And without his truck to sell, he won't have enough money to afford a ticket back to Puerto Rico. Unless... He's quick to go through his duffel bag, deep into its inner pocket, where his old notebook lays tucked away.

In it, there's a slip of paper. Worn and tattered, an envelope with its seal still intact. The words inside having been accessed by a letter opener. Obvious through the jagged cut at the seam. Like a source of salvation, the light at the end of the tunnel, there it is.

It was sacrilegious. But with the taste of his gasps and the press of his lips, you knew you were on sacred ground. Leaning across the console of his truck, with his hands in your hair, and the dangle of your Benedictine medallion, you are reborn.

Owen pulls away, his palms against your cheeks. There’s a furrow to his brow. With a gasp, your cheeks turn red. His jaw moves, chewing. “Is this gum?”

You nod. How sordid to think of it. Candy passing from one’s lips to another. It’s downright sinful.

“I didn’t notice you chewing it the entire drive,” he comments, almost thoughtful while he plays with the candy in his mouth.

“I like mint.”

He chuckles, looking out the window. “You always taste like mint.”

(Are you chewing gum? Spit it out.)

Infatuated, like a school girl with a crush, you bashfully ask, “Do you like it?”

He’s leaning across the console again, grin on his lips before he kisses you once more, “I love it.”

He’s probably lost. Following the return address scrawled in your writing, he ends up in front of a pharmacy. He looks up at the sign, blue and white with the paint chipping. Above the pharmacy, he sees floral patterned curtains on brick-lined windows. With a breath, bracing for the unknown, he steps into the store. A bell rings above the door. There’s a lady with pink hair behind the counter. And a little girl sat beside the cash register. The lady looks up from where she was babbling at the girl. Owen doesn’t miss the way her eyes widen for a second. And then, she lifts the girl, placing her down on the hardwood floors.

“Sweets, go to your momma.”

The little girl, chubby fingers clutching on rubber teethers, nods with a smile before disappearing behind a curtained doorway.

“How can I help you?”

His lips part to speak, but he’s interrupted when someone else bursts into the store.

“Jo, these just came in.”

And there you were. With a box pressed against your hip, eyes focused on a piece of paper. His mouth dries. You’ve always been so beautiful.

“It’s the antibiotic we ordered last week—”

After years, your eyes finally reunite with sinful blues.

“Owen?”

He’s rushing forward. You’re numb, almost unseeing while he cups your face between his hands. He’s trying to get you to listen. “I’ve looked for you everywhere,” he says. “I missed you. I tried to go back,” he insists.

“What are you doing here?”

He pauses at the cold of your voice.

“I came back for you. I missed you.”

“You came back for me?”

You notice Joanna leaving the room, giving you privacy. Knowing her, she’s probbaly waiting by the curtained door. One ear out just in case something happens.

“Yes, baby. My darling girl,” he presses his forehead against yours. Your fingers tighten around the corners of the box you hold.

“You came back for me?”

Harsh and biting, a deep-seated rage bubbles inside you.

“It’s been three years. Almost three years. You only came to me now?”

His fingers are desperate, palms cupping your jaw. Thumbs rubbing into your cheeks. “I tried. I couldn’t get out of Puerto Rico for a while. I did everything I can to get back to you.”

His thumbs catch the salt tears running down your cheeks. The kiss he presses between your brows is solemn and pleading. The anger in your heart turns down into a simmer. You will always succumb to him.

You kiss him. It tastes like salt and relief. Desperate in how he tries to take it further. With one hand, slowly, softly, you push him away. His forehead presses against yours. Nose breathing you in. Quietly, almost scared, you whisper, “There’s someone you need to meet.”

[adoredaqua]

After hours

NOTE: i don't think this was my greatest work, but it is something. please go easy on me, it's been a while since i wrote 😩🙏. also, it got angsty, i kept listening to "Let down" by Radiohead, so ummm... yeah... also happy 200!! i <3 you all so much!! xoxo 🥰💕

this is the inspo for this (i changed some bits so it fits better)

synopsis: oldergf!Sevika doesn't believe she's good enough for you, but does her insecurity run so deep that she's not willing to be with you anymore?

CW: feminine reader, angsty, modern setting, no usage of y/n, not edited, age gap (reader is twenty-five and sevika is forty-one), mentions of alcohol and smoking (not detailed), power dynamic (sevika is technically reader's boss but not directly), office romance, sevika is whipped for you (like really bad)

word count: 4 000+

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Sevika was the best gift that life could give you. Whenever you were with her, it felt too good to be true. Being with her made you realize that nothing could ever compare to her or any experience you've had in the past. She was older than you, but that didn't stop love from blooming.

She didn't mean to fall for you. She did everything in her power not to, but as soon as you smiled at her and thanked her for helping you with directions, she felt she had no choice. After that, she kept seeing you around. She hadn't realized that you would be the new hire at work. If she had known that, maybe she would have done more to prevent her heart from beating for you. Thankfully, you worked in a different department, which helped Sevika focus on her work. But it was as if you were following her, as though you knew she was falling for you and that she was resisting you. Every time you walked past her office to go to your cubicle, she savoured the view, memorizing the outfit you wore and how you styled your hair. She liked every hairstyle on you, but her favourite was when it was down. Sevika was often spellbound by the way it bounced when you walked away. She learned your schedule, and when she discovered that you liked to arrive at the office earlier than everyone else, just so you could settle in, she began to come in earlier than necessary; she didn't need to be there in the mornings, but she did so just to catch a glimpse of you. Sevika knew she couldn't have you, but that's what she liked about you.

You have kind eyes. Full of curiosity about the world, about her. The first time she had gotten to you was at an after-work event. It was a successful quarter, and to celebrate, everyone had made plans to go to a bar, the Last Drop. Sevika wasn't planning on going but was convinced after hearing that you would be present as well. Silco, her business partner, didn't question her about her sudden change of mind. He was simply entertained.

You were making your rounds, talking to everyone and catching up. Everyone seems to love you, and honestly, who wouldn't? You were so kind and sweet. You baked for the office, even providing a gluten-free option for those who wanted it. If someone confided in you about late work, you would offer to help them, and you simply wanted nothing in return. You were an angel, and Sevika had never wanted anyone more.

Sevika stayed put by the bar, talking to Vander and Silco, catching a glimpse of you here and there. By the second hour, the two men had grown sick of her longing, lovestruck stares.

"Why don't you just go up to her? Talk to her instead of staring at her." Vander suggested, giving her a knowing look. The trio has known each other for a while, going to college together. 

"I can't," Sevika groaned into her hands.

"And why not?" Now it was Silco's turn to tease the scary lady of the office.

"Because… that's just inappropriate," Sevika stated the obvious, but she knew deep down she was just using that as an excuse. She technically wasn't your boss, but the boss's boss. Still, Sevika wasn't one to mix business and pleasure. For the past two decades, Sevika has put her life and soul into this company she's built with Silco. She knows nothing but work. As she grew older, she realized she needed to set boundaries with herself. No one was there to take care of her, so she needed to. Work ended as soon as she left the building. No matter how important it was, she's made it clear not to call or email her after hours.

"Besides, I don't think she would be very interested in an old lady." Even with the sheepish smile on her face, Sevika's tone of voice was serious, meaning she didn't want to be pressed on. Vander stirs the conversation elsewhere, now asking about how it was nearing 20 years since the establishment of the company. 

The bar has gotten louder than what Sevika would have liked. Vander occupied the bar, fixing drinks while Silco was now entertaining a group of employees. Her leather jacket was now slung over the back of her chair, the white tee clinging to her body, and her muscles were on full display. Despite her age, Sevika was still a very fit woman. A couple of silver rings splayed on her thick fingers, she nurses a drink that’s gone warm while the ice melts in defiance of the glass. She’s halfway through weighing if it’s time for her to take her leave. There wasn’t much of a point in staying; she had already played a couple of rounds of cards with the others that she had promised. As she plans her exit, you decide to sit beside her. 

Not near her. Not across the bar where she can pretend she doesn’t see you.

Beside her.

Sevika’s fingers tighten around her glass. 

You glance over, bright-eyed and a little flushed from whatever conversation you peeled away from. “I didn’t expect you to stay this long in the night.” You say, voice light, like you had already talked before. Like, Sevika wasn’t your boss’s boss, who people usually avoided unless something was going wrong, so she could be the one to break the news to Silco. 

She doesn’t smile, not because she doesn’t want to, but because she doesn’t trust herself. 

“Didn’t expect to stay this late,” she mutters, eyes fixated on her drink, like it was the most interesting sight she had ever seen. “Thought I could finally make my quick escape.” 

You giggle - and fuck, it’s angelic. “Guess I ruined that plan.”

“You have a habit of doin’ that?” The words come out before she can stop them. Too casual. Too easy. 

You arch a brow, “ruining plans?”

“Making it hard to leave.”

She sees how your expression falters, just a flicker, before you giggle again - a curiosity blooming within. This was the first time you were talking to one of the big bosses, and you didn’t expect it to be like this. You weren’t going to complain, though. She swears under her breath and quickly finishes her drink. 

This was a bad idea. You shouldn’t be encouraging this. She shouldn’t be looking at you like this. There are unspoken lines, and she’s made a career out of respecting them - keeping her hands clean even when her knuckles are split open. And yet here you were, with a soft curiosity in your voice, like she’s a puzzle you want to figure out. Like she’s not someone who’s already lived too many lives to count.

“You’ve been with the company for a while, right?” You ask, not realizing your proximity is a problem. Sevika noticed but decides against doing anything about it. This was probably the only time she could be this close to you; she will savour it. 

She’ll relish your lavender perfume, the way your dress was snug, accentuating your waist. Your hair had loose curls just the way she liked. Sevika sees the curve of your smile and the sight of your dimples, making her stomach twist in a way it hasn’t in years.

“Longer than you’ve been drinking,” she says dryly.

You make a face, “Ouch. Was that a dig at me?”

“A warning,” she mutters. “You need to be careful talking to me like this.”

You blink. The teasing fades, confusion creeping in its place. “Like what?”

Sevika exhales slowly, jaw tightening. You’re not doing anything wrong. She knows that, and it’s not like she’s acted on anything. But that doesn’t change the fact that you’re looking at her like she’s just some stranger at a bar, and not someone who knows exactly where you sit in the company hierarchy. She knows how good you are with people. How you brought tea to the receptionist when she was sick and found a sincere compliment for everyone you walked passed. You have no idea what you’re doing to her. 

“I’m your boss’s boss,” she plainly states, each word like it’s being dragged from her throat. “It’s… inappropriate.”

You tilt your head, lips pressed together like you’re trying to decipher the true meaning behind her words. Questioning if this was her sense of humour. 

Except, she wasn’t joking. 

She’s trying not to fall.

“Oh.” You responded after a moment. Then, gentler, “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

She knows. Of course you didn’t. You’re just the young, sweet and friendly new hire at work.

“I know,” Sevika acknowledges, looking back down at her glass. “Doesn’t mean I don’t.”

Your brows furrow. She can see the puzzle pieces trying to fit together behind your eyes, but she won’t give you enough to complete the picture. She can’t. It’s not right. 

She’s not right.

Still, you don’t leave. That’s the part that gets her. 

You were supposed to leave. Yet, you stayed and ordered another drink. Sipping it slowly, feet swinging just barely above the ground from your seat. Instead, you talk about a project you were assigned to, about how cold the office gets, so you have to bring an extra cardigan, and about a stupid joke someone made in the elevator today. Sevika simply listens, occasionally grunting in acknowledgement, but not letting herself relax. Not until the end, when your glass is empty and your eyes linger on her a little longer than they should. You slide off the stool and turn to her. “You know,” thinking of your words carefully, “I was going to ask if you wanted to get coffee sometime.”

Sevika looks at you, sharp and still. Her heart clenches. She shouldn’t. 

You smile - not flirty, not even expectant. Just… warmth.

“But maybe I’ll let you ask,” you add. “When it’s appropriate.”

And with that, you walk off and find your colleagues that you were meant to drive home for the night. Only to leave Sevika alone at the bar, heart pounding against ribs that suddenly feel too small. 

Sevika doesn’t sleep that night. She tells herself it’s the whiskey. Maybe she left the bar too late, or something she ate didn’t sit right. But deep down, she knows it’s you. It could only be you. The memory of you - your smile, the way your voice dipped low when you said you’d let her ask, like it was some kind of permission. 

And maybe it was.

She tosses and turns, constantly catching a glimpse of her phone, debating whether or not she should go for it. In the end, she decides against it.

Three days pass. She sees you once, she was stuck in a morning meeting while you were on the other side of the glass, sitting at your desk with headphones in, eyes narrowing at the screen in front of you like the rest of the world didn’t exist. You don’t notice her looking at you. Maybe it was for the best. She’s done many things in life that toe the line, but this? This was where she drew the line. 

Friday hits, and Sevika’s in her office after hours, finalizing details of a new deal. The building was quiet, there was a stillness as the cleaning staff hadn’t even made it to this floor yet. Her phone buzzes. A calendar reminder she never turned off. 

Coffee with HR, 4 pm - cancelled.

And for some reason, that’s what does it.

She picks up her phone, thumb hesitating over your name. You’re saved in her contacts as just your first name - no emoji, no last initial, no indication of what you mean to her beyond professionalism. 

It takes three drafts. Finally, she sends a simple message.

You still up for that coffee?

Not bothering to wait for a reply. She locks her screen and throws her phone down, heart hammering like she just pulled the trigger on something she can’t take back.

The coffee shop is quiet. It was one of those corner places where no one wears a uniform, and all the pastries are homemade and slightly burnt. A place she wouldn’t be caught dead in. You were already there, tucked in a booth near the back, hands wrapped around a mug like you’re holding onto something precious. You spot her before she spots you - but not by much. She sees the smile playing on your lips, soft and surprised, and her chest goes tight. She slowly walks over, not wanting to ruin the moment by rushing. 

“Didn’t think you’d come,” you commented, voice low enough to carry.

“Neither did I,” Sevika admits, sliding into the seat across from you. There was a coffee already there, waiting just for her. You offer her half of your muffin without asking. She declines. You expected that.

There’s silence, but it’s not an awkward one. Just… suspended. Like both of you are waiting for the first move that’ll tip the scales.

“Still inappropriate?” You ask, sipping your coffee. 

“Janna, yes,” Sevika mumbled, rubbing a hand down her face. “You have no idea.”

You raise an eyebrow. “So, what changed?”

She looks at you for a long time. Long enough that it starts to weigh on you. Then, she says, “I got tired of pretending it didn’t matter.” 

You blink, the answer catching you off guard. Not because of what she said, but how it was so Sevika. Blunt. Honest. Gruff and vulnerable in the same breath.

“Does it matter?” You questioned.

She doesn’t answer right away. She leans back in the booth, arms crossed, her jaw tight, not with anger, but restraint.

“It shouldn’t,” she finally says. “But it does.”

You nod, eyes on her like you’re searching for something. “I’m not trying to cause trouble.”

“I know.”

“And I’m not a kid.”

“I know that as well.”

Your voice dips quieter, softer. “So maybe we just… have coffee. No expectations. No titles. Just two people who might like each other.”

Sevika huffs a breath, something between a laugh and surrender.

“Dangerous words, kid.”

“I’m not scared of you, Sev.”

That gets her.

She looks at you. Really looks at you - and it hits her all over again how goddamn doomed she is. Because you’re right here, giving her a chance she knows she doesn’t deserve. 

But she wants it anyway, and she’ll do anything to be worthy of you. 

She lifts her coffee and clinks her mug gently against yours. “One coffee.”

You grin. “One for now.”

And she’s fucked. 

She’s smiling now, too. 

It had now become a routine. Not the kind that dulls over time, but the kind that settles into the bones like warmth after a long winter. It started with a shared elevator ride after work. You would wait by Sevika’s office, leaning against the wall with a knowing smile, and Sevika would pretend she hadn’t been watching the clock all day, would grab her coat with forced indifference. 

Then came the walk through the lobby, shoulders brushing, conversations stitched with quiet laughs. The world outside the office felt muted when you two were together. 

Now it was you in her apartment. Sevika would cook most nights. You always insisted on helping, but she would only let you cut the vegetables and keep her company. You two would eat by the window, legs tangled under the table, with the city lights flickering like background music. Later that night, on the couch, Sevika would read while you’d lie across her lap, playing with the hem of her sleeve. There was always a moment, just one, where Sevika would look down at you, and everything in her chest would clench so tightly it almost hurt. A mix of awe and fear. A feeling she hadn’t let herself want in years.

Half asleep and curled against her, you mumbled, “You look at me like I’m going to disappear.” To you, it was simple teasing, but that summed up what Sevika has always thought. 

Sevika didn’t respond. Just stroked your hair and kissed the top of your head like she was trying to promise something, knowing she wouldn’t be able to keep it. 

It all began to unravel slowly.

Sevika found herself staring a little too long when you would laugh with a co-worker. She started pulling away after kisses. She lingered in the kitchen too long and tried to avoid dinner overall. She had snapped, once, over something small, you were late to dinner. Sevika apologized immediately, but it clung to her like guilt.

She was too old for this. Too jaded. Too experienced in the art of being left. You were still young and bright. Sevika loved that about you, but part of her felt like she smudged all that warmth. 

So, one quiet night in her apartment. The kind of quiet that settled deep, only the soft clinking of ice in your glass and the low hum of a jazz record spinning lazily in the background. You were on her couch, legs tucked under you, reading through one of Sevika’s books. You wore an oversized shirt, which hangs off your shoulder, paired with flared leggings. The sight of you wasn’t anything new, but it was still hard for Sevika to believe that this was her reality now. 

Sevika stood by the kitchen counter, leaning her weight on one arm, a half-finished drink in the other hand. Her hair was down tonight, and the sight of it sent something warm and stupid fluttering in your chest. Neither of you had talked much since dinner. Not out of discomfort, just that easy silence you’d started to fall into more and more. She didn’t fill space unless it needed filling, and you… You were getting good at listening to what she didn’t say.

Then, out of nowhere.

“I think you should stop coming here.” 

You flinched from your spot, not sure if you had heard her right. You looked at her from your seat, and she looked just as startled as you were. That quickly went away and was now replaced with a stoic expression. 

“What are you talking about?” You questioned. 

“This,” Sevika forces a steadiness into her voice. “Whatever this is, it’s not going to last. You should be with someone your age. One day, you’re going to wake up and wonder what the hell you were thinking being with me. I’m not going to wait for that.” That last part came out quieter, almost like she regretted saying it the second it left her mouth. 

“Are we really doing this now?” You raised a brow. 

She turns her gaze to where you were sitting. Tired eyes, scarred skin, that permanent weight she carried even when she wasn’t talking about it.

“You’re twenty-five,” she explained, like that was enough to understand. Like that should be the end of it. You stood, putting your book down on the coffee table, walking toward her slowly. “And you’re what? Walking away from this before I even get the chance to prove you wrong? So, I can end up with some clean-shaven corporate guy who has a dog and doesn’t smoke?”

She flinched. Just slightly. 

Sevika didn’t expect you to fight her on this matter. She underestimated how much you want this. She fights the little voice in her head telling her that she shouldn’t continue.

“I’ve seen how people look at us,” she mutters, turning away from you. “Like I’m dragging you down. Like you’re just… playing house until something better comes along.” 

You step back, “Is that what you think of me? That I would use you?” You tilt your head, trying to catch a glimpse of her. Was this really the same person who held you at night? The woman who made sure you got home safe? The one who would look at you like you were the only thing that mattered because you were.

“Do you think of me so lowly?” 

“I’m protecting both of us.” Sevika bit her lip. She knew she was taking the coward’s way out, but if that’s what it took for you to realize that she’s not the woman you want, then so be it.

“You’re not,” you utter. “You don’t even want to try.” The frustration starts to build up, you run a hand through your hair, not believing what you’re hearing. There was a long pause, raw and aching.

“I’m not worth the fight for you… Am I?”

Sevika wanted to say yes. She wanted nothing more than to declare you’re everything to her. That this could work out between you two. But she didn’t. She couldn’t.

After a moment of processing, a realization that this is the path she wants for you. You gathered your things and left. You didn’t slam the door. There were no tears in your eyes, not yet at least. You simply walked out quietly, you knew that trying to stay would only make it worse. 

Weeks have gone by.

Sevika went home alone. No one sang in the car or made fun of her ‘old people’ music. She cooked for one. Nobody was there to help her with the dishes. She read books that didn’t hold her attention. Not a single soul was there to play with her hair and ask a million questions about her day. The apartment had grown too cold. 

You two would still see each other in the office. You would pass by her, being the cordial and polite person you were, you would smile, but it didn’t meet your eyes. Sevika started avoiding you, purposely leaving early or staying as late as possible because anything was better than seeing you in pain. 

She’d lie awake at night, gripping what was once your side of the bed. She swears it still smells like you. Sometimes she’d reach over, pathetically, like muscle memory hadn’t caught up to heartbreak. 

The worst part was the silence. She missed your laugh because she completely missed the joke you made. The way you tried to speak Hindi, even though your pronunciation wasn’t the greatest, it was the fact that you tried. The way you looked at her like she was something good. 

It was late one night when Sevika broke. 

She stood outside your door, her heart thudding out of her chest like it had something to say before she did. She hesitated; it wasn’t fair that she was crawling back to you for something she broke off. She was a coward. About to turn back, the door swings open, and Sevika looks up to see you. 

You didn’t look surprised to see her. Just tired. 

Tired and lovely, and still hers, in some unspoken way.

Sevika cleared her throat, trying to gain some control of herself. “I was wrong. I got scared and in the end I’m the one that hurt you.”

You said nothing, but instead observed her. You watched the way her breath catches up to her. Her fingers fidgeted on her sides, trying to grab something but falling short. 

“I still think you deserve better than me,” Sevika went on. “But I also know that I’ve never wanted someone this much in my life.”

A pause.

“I miss you,” she whispered.

You studied her for a long moment. Then, with a soft sigh, you step aside and open the door wider. And there it was. The same doe eyes looking at her, the day she gave you directions. The soft smile playing on your lips. 

And this time, Sevika walks in. No fear and not one doubt in her mind.

Just hope.

[lxvvie]

Whenever Simon gets sick or injured, it's a canon event. For Beanie, that is.

'Cause Princess Daddy isn't supposed to get sick. Or get booboos. Ever. So when he does, not only is the whole world ending, but Queen Beanie is also thoroughly disappointed in her beloved papa.

Of course, you've told her countless times and in so many words that Daddy will be fine. No, he's not gonna die, and sure thing, she can sleep in his spot in the bed if he does, but it's not gonna happen. Regardless, your baby has a mind of her own and lets her imagination run wild, but if there's one thing you know your daughter will do well, though, it's help take care of her daddy.

"Doctor Queen Beanie reporting for duty!"

And even though he feels like shit, Simon can't help but be fall in love all over again with his little girl. She's there with you every step of the way, helping whenever she can, keeping him company, covering him in bandaids (pink might as well be his favorite bloody color at this point), feeding him even though he doesn't really need the help ("No tactical treats 'til you're all better, daddy!"), kissing his forehead because she believes they'll heal all the booboos (and because she watched too much Sleeping Beauty and Snow White), and just... being there. Just being Beanie and reminding him every day of his blessings in you two.

You can't help but be proud of your little girl.

Especially when she tells Simon that if this happens again, it's off to the timeout corner for him. You laugh, and Simon rolls his eyes.

"Won't happen again, sweetheart."

Atta girl, Beanie.

[logansdoll]

I have so many ideas but I'm not a talented writer so here's one

-your logans wife pre striker you get taken by striker after logan gets shot as a way to kinda get back at him. Logan always had visions of a woman that he doesn't remember glimpses of domestic bliss. When striker attacks (in x2) striker name drops or says smth like "your wife has been waiting" as a way to antagonize logan.

Also, a cute detail to add if a fic takes place before he loses his memory would be the reader to call him james

I really love how your reader in has a plant mutation. Everything you write is just so good

I hope I wasn't to detailed feel free to take bits and pieces.

contingency

running through the base at Alkali Lake, Logan stumbles across a top secret room... only to find his whole entire world inside.

CW: suggestive, profanity, takes place during X2, has some elements from X-Men Origins: Wolverine, reader has been through some shit, Logan is so relieved, you don't really need to squint to see the angst, i'm iffy on how this turned out, etc.

'Think, dammit! What the hell was he talking about?'

With a roar of frustration, Logan unsheathed his claws, sprinting around the bend and slicing right through the stomach of a nearby soldier, waiting until the man fell with a disgusting plop before continuing on his way.

Why couldn't he just remember?

He knew that, for whatever reason, his memories had been tampered with, and that he couldn't recall anything about his life before the claws.

But ever since his run-in with Stryker back at the mansion, he couldn't help but feel like he was forgetting something especially important.

Something crucial.

"Wolverine..." Stryker grinned, eyes widening stepping forward out of the shadows. "I must admit, you are the last person I'd expect to find here."

Logan's claws revealed themselves with their signature shink, his brows furrowing as he warily stalked closer.

"How long has it been? Fifteen years?"

Stryker let out a small chuckle, but Logan was having a hard time finding what was so funny.

In fact, he was having a hard time with everything about this man—confused as to why he seemed so familiar.

"(y/n) says hello," Stryker goaded, adjusting his glasses. "Or, at least... I believe she would... If I'm being honest, she's feeling a little under the weather at the moment."

A sadistic smirk settled on his lips, his eyes glinting with sick satisfaction.

"But then again... there's seldom a time where she isn't feeling under the weather these days..."

"DAMMIT!" Logan barked, slamming his fist into a wall.

Not knowing was tearing him apart.

Who was (y/n)?

What were you to him?

And how the hell did he end up on the complete opposite side of the compound?

All questions that he furiously wanted to be answered.

Though, somehow—through his fit of blind frustration—he managed to stumble across a door, which had printed in big, bold, yellow letters:

CAUTION: KEEP OUT. HYDROSTASIS IN PROCESS.

"Hydrostasis?" Logan cocked a brow.

He didn't know why, but whatever was housed inside seemed to be pulling him in, silently urging him to open the door and investigate.

'Fuck it.'

Using one claw, he stabbed the retina scanner, the thick lock clicking with a satisfying beep.

He pushed past the door with ease, entering a seemingly large, dark, and oddly cold room, a lamp on one of the workbenches the only thing illuminating the space.

Cautiously, he approached it, sniffing and snapping his head around to make sure he was alone.

Yet he knew he wasn't.

He'd caught whiff of a faint scent emanating from somewhere further into the room, but it was so familiar, it seemed almost instinct to pay it no mind.

For some reason, he knew it wasn't hostile—and if anything, it calmed him, soothing his spiked nerves.

Reaching the table, he found that right next to the lamp laid a file labeled EXPERIMENT 25-8: CLASSIFIED.

He snatched it up with lightening speed, quickly skimming over the latest entry.

EXPERIMENT 25-8 a.k.a Weapon X Contingency

Name: (y/n) (l/n) Age: Unknown Sex: Female Height: X" X Weight: X Rank: Class 5 Report: 25-8 reviles authority. But her connection to Weapon X and general strength makes her a perfect candidate for Project Contingency. Her mutation and overall will to live have rejected all known forms of mind control. Will be kept in hydrostasis until new methods found. Conclusion: Further research required. Could possibly be the only creature known to man that can stop the Wolverine besides the Wolverine himself.

"(y/n)..." Logan tested out the name, confused as to why it sounded so natural.

So home-like.

Looking away from the pages, he glanced down at the table, catching sight of a large switch not too far away.

Without hesitation, he flicked it, the lights in the room suddenly cutting on, along with the lights to your chamber.

And there you were right before him—unconscious and floating in vibrant blue water.

Looking upon you, it felt like he was suddenly hit by a freight train, years of love, care, and warmth flooding his mind.

"James!" you squealed, unable to dim your smile as he hoisted you over his shoulder. "Put me down!"

"Not a chance," he smirked, carrying you toward your shared bedroom. "You know what you did..."

"No..."

"C'mere. I need a taste tester," you smiled, cupping your hand under your fork as you held up a chunk of steak.

He grinned, placing down his newspaper and taking a bite, groaning at the good taste as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

"Well?" you asked, nervous.

"Baby..." he paused for dramatic effect, wanting to see you squirm. "This is the best damn steak I've ever eaten."

"You ass!" you scoffed, playfully slapping him in the shoulder as he laughed, rocking you back and forth.

"I can't..."

"I love you, y'know that?" he asked, holding you close as you both relaxed in the bathtub. "I feel like I don't tell ya enough."

"You tell me every day, baby," you smiled, looking up at him as you rested your back against his chest.

"Well, then," he smirked, his hand rising from the water, holding a beautiful diamond engagement ring. "You alright with me tellin' ya a little bit more?"

Your eyes went as wide as saucers, and you gasped so loud the neighbors (which were three miles away) would certainly hear.

"YES!" you squealed, scrambling to turn around and give him a kiss, the water sloshing around violently.

"Careful, hon! You're gonna knock me out the tub!" he chuckled, steadying you as your lips began peppering kisses all over his face.

"She can't..."

"James," you started, timidly, tracing mindless shapes in his chest as you both laid in bed. "That man you told me about... Stryker... he came by the house today."

Logan tensed at the name, his grip around you tightening.

"He didn't do anything, did he?" he asked, tone rising.

"No," you shook your head. "But he asked for you. Said it was important that you come and talk to him."

He sighed, taking your hand in his, smoothing his thumb over your knuckles.

"I'll go over tomorrow. Straighten everything out," he assured.

"I don't think you should," you quickly denied, nervous. "This man... I don't trust him... He gives me a bad feeling, y'know?"

He cracked a small smile, placing a tender kiss on your forehead.

"I promise you, he can't do nothin' to me that hasn't already been done."

"RAAAAH!" Logan roared, blindly slashing at the table and all nearby equipment.

How could he have ever forgotten you?

Fury consumed his being in every sense of the word, the anger swelling inside him in a way he had never felt before.

Sparks flew as Logan destroyed any and everything in his path, teetering on the edge between rage and regret.

He could remember so clearly now.

You were his world—his reason for drawing breath, his reason for existing.

No matter how bad things got—angry, frustrating, or lonely—you were there.

You were his escape, his safety, his peace.

Comparing his life from before to the current, he couldn't fathom how he'd survived so long without being in your presence.

Through his slicing, he managed to cut something important, a loud warning siren blaring before all the water began draining from your pod, rapidly pouring onto the floor.

With a loud hiss, the door opened, sending you falling out the chamber.

Logan rushed over faster than he'd ever done anything, catching you in his arms and cradling you bridal style.

He looked upon you as if you were a ghost, a figment of his imagination.

After years and years of separation, he was finally allowed a chance to see your face, now able to recall all its fine details with perfect accuracy.

The softness of your cheeks.

The kindness of your eyes.

The plumpness of your lips.

Suddenly, you let out a loud cough, spitting up some water as your eyes snapped open, frantically looking around.

Logan couldn't find the words.

The love of his life was sitting in his arms and after fifteen years... and he had no idea what to say to her.

"James?" you asked, weakly, disbelieving of the sight before you.

That's right!

James!

His name was James!

"Yeah, baby..." he nodded, bitter-sweetly, getting a bit choked up. "It's me—"

You threw your arms around his neck without a second thought, pulling him into a bone crushing hug as tears began pouring down your cheeks, your shoulders shaking with cries of relief.

"I thought you weren't coming!" you sobbed.

Your throat felt swollen as you stuttered, scrambling to say all the things you've been wanting to for so long.

"Oh, God, I love you, Jimmy! I love you so much! Please don't leave me again!"

"I'm so sorry, baby! I'm so, so sorry!" he sputtered, his hand finding home in your hair as he rocked you back and forth, stray tears escaping his eyes. "I shoulda been here! I shoulda protected you!"

He buried his face in your hair, peppering the side of your head with kisses.

"I love you so much, honey... I'm right here. I'm not goin' anywhere."

Suddenly, you went limp in his arms, panic and fear spiking up his spine.

"(n/n)?!" he pulled back, frantically scanning over you to see what was wrong."(y/n)?!"

Quickly, he pressed his ear against your chest, thanking whatever god in heaven that your heart was beating.

'It might be a side effect of the chamber... or maybe she's tired...'

Without warning, the entire compound began to shake, a familiar blue devil popping up next to him out of nowhere.

"Zere you are!" Kurt exclaimed, quickly grabbing onto his friend. "Vee must go! Zee place is goink to flood!"

In an instant, the three were back with the others, the mysterious woman in Logan's arms posing a question to everyone.

"Logan?" Ororo raised a brow, confused, as they began running toward the exit.

"Who the hell is that?" Scott asked, much blunter than Storm intended.

Logan looked down at your peacefully sleeping face, brushing a stray strand of hair out your face.

"She's my wife..."

bonus !!

"SHE'S YOUR WHAT?"

[portalhan]

⠀ꔫ˚　༝　◌ ⌒⌒ three strikes !

↳ jeongin swears on his life that he's seen something odd between you and felix... exactly three times, in fact, but he needs more concrete proof...

PAIRING: felix lee x gn!reader

FORMAT: one shot

GENRE: college au, friends to lovers, fluff, jeongin third wheeling...

WARNINGS: brief mentions of food and being sick (just the flu bug nothing huge)

WORD COUNT: 2.8k

FAE'S NOTES: this is just a little bit half-assed... idk if i have much faith in this and i believe i can do better than this but i'm gonna post it anyway for you guys! please let me know if you have any feedback, my writing muscles have basically atrophied and i need to find my rhythm again TT

jeongin doesn't usually second-guess his closest friends like this, but something has changed. he knows you and felix well enough to know at least that.

you have always been hard to read. you're an independent, reliable sort of person, not outwardly emotional nor needlessly arrogant either—you tend to show your love for your friends through small, quiet gestures. felix, on the other hand, is someone who wears his heart on his sleeve—almost to a fault. always baking extra brownies to gift people, always going the extra mile, always looking on the bright side, even in the darkest of situations. he is as fragile as he is affectionate.

yes, affectionate. that's the word he's been looking for to describe the changes in your friendship with felix. you've been more affectionate. jeongin has always chalked it up to felix's own proclivities rubbing off on you given the sheer amount of time you spend together, but now... he's not so sure it's that simple. there have been three strikes jeongin has kept score of so far.

STRIKE #1

jeongin remembers it was a tuesday, because that's the only day of the week where all three of you shared classes. you would always sit in a row near the back of the class. he has made it a point to memorise both yours and felix's timetables this semester—as do the both of you with him—so he knows you don't usually have prior arrangements before coming to campus. you've always had a tradition of meeting in the lobby before walking to class together as a result.

so, when his phone pings with a message from you saying 'sorry innie, we're gonna be a bit late! pls go to class first, just save us seats', he is immediately struck with confusion. what did you mean, "we"? felix, uncharacteristically, hasn't said a word and it's already 5 minutes shy from when class starts. he always arrives at least 10 minutes before. how strange, jeongin thinks to himself as he trudges up the stairs to class, incredibly unfamiliar with the circumstance of having to do so on his own for the first time. he just brushes the nagging suspicion off, telling himself it was probably because of some public transport situation that's delayed you both—not something entirely uncommon.

it's about 15 minutes into the class before he sees you. the second he spots felix and you stumbling through the doors, profusely apologising to the professor for your tardiness, though, is when the same sensation of suspicion comes back. as you and felix shuffle to make their way to the seats jeongin saved for you, he can't help but notice your attire. you're wearing an oversized black shirt with some graphic of an anime printed on. jeongin's eyes squint as he stares at it, assuming it must have been a new purchase of yours. but he swears he's seen it before.

when you and felix take your seats and the professors picks up where she left off, felix turns to jeongin and apologises for being late. "we're really sorry jeongin, we owe you one," he quips, before he fishes his laptop out of his bag. the younger boy just shrugs it off as no big deal. plus, he had something else on his mind to worry about than harp on the two of you being late to class.

the dots quickly connect a few moments later in jeongin's head. felix has a shirt just like the one you're wearing. he swears he's seen him wearing it before, just last week when the three of you had gone out for dinner. it's been a shirt of his for years now, so worn down by so many uses that it has bleach stains on the sleeves, despite how much care felix puts into his clothing.

jeongin leans back in his chair and slowly, subtly pushes it back. he steals a glance at your side profile, thankfully without either you or felix noticing. there they were: bleach stains on the sleeves. upon further inspection, the shirt you were wearing looks way too worn out to be a new shirt—he concludes it must be felix's. but why would you wear felix's dank shirt to begin with? it would be weird to ask if that's his shirt you were wearing, so he decides to keep his silence for now.

STRIKE #2

this time, it was jeongin's turn to be late. the three of you had planned a picnic to celebrate the end of the gruelling semester—an idea felix suggested. he wanted it to be a potluck, so the each of you planned to bring something of your own making along.

jeongin wanted to go all out with his: he wanted to bake cupcakes, something felix had recently taught him how to. he wanted to show you his latest endeavours, baked fresh, but he didn't expect it to go sideways so last minute. he ended up showing up almost half an hour late, hair sticking to his forehead from all the sweat and cupcake frosting smeared all over the tupperware he placed them in out of haste.

when he finally spots the two of you amid the grass field at the park, he notices something... odd. he stops in his tracks to catch his breath and squints his eyes to get a better look. if he didn't know any better, he'd have thought you two were... holding hands? the sun was glaring directly in his face, obscuring his vision, so jeongin couldn't be 100% sure. but what he does know is that your figures were so close to each other they were practically shoulder-to-shoulder. this isn't exactly beyond felix, who is notorious for his habits of physical affection. but it is most certainly out of character for you, as someone who prefers to keep most people at an arm's length.

jeongin shrugs it off. he guesses felix nor he would be considered "most people". perhaps it was a trick of the light. he also doesn't have good enough reason to find it entirely strange—perhaps felix had gotten through to you in that regard. he had bigger things to worry about: your dinner getting cold.

STRIKE #3

the legitimacy of the third time is still up for debate, jeongin surmises. this time it wasn't your behaviour around each other, instead more so about how felix in particular reacted.

this happened over summer break. he remembers the sun being more unrelenting than ever—40 degrees celsius to be exact, he saw on the news—so you three had just decided to hang out in your bedroom, where the air conditioning is the coolest and crispiest (according to you). jeongin vividly recalls you lying on your stomach atop your bed, while the two boys were sprawled on the floor. that is, the carpet that laid over the spot where they would usually sprawl on the floor.

it was one of those 'parallel play' days, as you liked to call them. not necessarily doing things together, but doing separate things in the presence of each other, you said one time. felix was busy on his switch playing some pokemon game, you were scrolling on your phone and jeongin was just seconds away from drifting off to sleep on felix's lap.

it's been silent for, what, almost two hours now? but you end up breaking it first. "woah," you suddenly exclaimed, brows furrowing as you read something on your screen. "do you guys remember seungmin? from calculus?"

jeongin does not move an inch aside from nodding his head, and felix just lets out a little "yeah?" though his eyes were never once peeled from the console screen.

"i think he just asked me out," you tell them, bewildered.

this, of course, elicits reactions of surprise from jeongin and felix. the former lifts himself and sits up to ask details, while the other just turns the switch off—did he even save his progress on the game?—and sits there in silence as he silently watches you and jeongin discuss your classmate's... proposition. jeongin makes a playful jab at how you could have given him the wrong idea by flirting with him, which you immediately shut down. "i've never done anything suggestive to him, i swear!" you exclaimed in full defense.

seungmin has only ever made conversation with you once or twice in class, jeongin recalls. you also never really put in the effort to get to know your other classmates if jeongin and felix were in the same classes. jeongin makes a passing comment about how seungmin could pass as your type (if you squint hard enough), but it falls on deaf ears when you and felix meet each other's gazes.

"you're gonna tell him no, right?" felix suddenly chimes in after moments of prolonged silence, raspy voice cracking just a little. jeongin snaps his head to turn and look at his friend, head tilted and brow lifted. you give felix a look jeongin cannot quite describe, and chuckle with a soft smile as you nod. "of course i'm gonna say no," you assure him. he lets out a very heavy sigh of relief, but none of this goes unnoticed by jeongin.

this is very weird, jeongin remembers thinking. you have always been receptive to potential love interests, even if they weren't necessarily people you'd normally be into. so why are you so sure now that you'd reject seungmin without even giving him a chance?

on that note, what's it to felix who asks you out? why does he have a say? plus, he could've sworn he detected some semblance of... jealousy in his question. but he supposes that could be normal considering all three of you are so used to spending time with each other. jeongin does admit to himself that he'd feel lonely if you were to be whisked away by some stranger out of nowhere. it wouldn't be the same.

jeongin has theories, maybe even concepts of a theory, but no concrete enough proof for confrontation—so far. it looks like he has to wait till he does before he can address the massive elephant in the room.

FINAL STRIKE

it finally happens when he decides to stop by your apartment with take-out. you had told your friends about falling sick the night before—alas, you have caught the flu bug. they were just textbook symptoms like a low-grade fever, sore throat and a runny nose, nothing to worry about in particular, you told them. but jeongin just so happens to pass by your neighbourhood on his usual route home from work, so he decides to drop in with some chicken soup for you as a small surprise. you had already been texting the group chat the entire day about how exhausted you were to make yourself a half-decent dinner, so jeongin thought this would be a nice way to take care of his friend.

he knocks on your door multiple times to no response. maybe you're sleeping? he looks around the potted plants sitting outside your door and lifts the snake plant up, grabbing the rusted spare key tucked away from prying eyes just underneath. he quickly and quietly unlocks the front door and lets himself in. i'll just go in, check on y/n and put this soup on the table, he tells himself as he enters. maybe text you to let you know he got you dinner.

that is, until a warm aroma of what he believes to be fresh bolognese wafts to where he is at the front door. he hears the distant clanging of pots and pans coming from the kitchen, and—strangest of all—he hears... conversation? he can definitely hear you talking and even giggling, but he can't quite make out who the other person was. he's about 99% sure there was someone else in here, but could it be just a phone call? he sneaks down the hallway to the kitchen, the noises getting clearer as he inches closer. when he sticks his head out from a blind corner to peek into the kitchen, he sees it: felix plating a fresh bowl of spaghetti while you're sitting on the dining table engaged in idle chatter. a lump catches in his throat—what is felix doing here? and most importantly, why didn't he know of this? he felt momentarily betrayed.

jeongin just stands there in silence, unsure of how to confront you, while you and felix continue chatting. it's only when felix sets down two plates of pasta and goes in to plant a peck on your cheek does jeongin yelp in shock, which frightens all three of you.

felix squints his eyes, which widen in utter disbelief when he recognises the familiar facade lurking by the corridor. "jeong...in?" he asks, voice trembling a little from disbelief. when he says jeongin's name, you shoot him a similar look, but this one is more panicked and afraid. jeongin awkwardly steps out within view, but he puts a hand up to cover his mouth to prevent himself from screaming. he raises the other arm to point an accusatory finger at the both of you. you swear you just heard felix gulp next to you.

"i..." jeongin sputters. "i knew it! i knew something was going on between you two idiots!"

the verbalisation of his revelation is what completely opens the floodgates, causing the entire place to erupt in complete and utter chaos. jeongin paces back and forth with the chicken soup still dangling from his fingers as he rants about how he's caught you doing "weird stuff" a couple of times but couldn't have known, about how he's been feeling a little left out recently, how you have been looking at felix funny sometimes. meanwhile, felix just begins to talk over him with near-equal (if not more) amounts of sheer panic and distress, reaching out to him to get him to calm down while explaining that this wasn't how they had intended for him to find out.

you, crippled by the shock from jeongin's unexpected appearance, just sit there, unable to do much of anything what with your flu, just silently watching felix and jeongin form a panic attack circle jerk in your own house.

"enough!" jeongin raises his voice, which immediately shuts felix up. jeong has never raised his voice. you shoot felix a nervous look.

"i thought we were best friends," jeongin utters, the slightest hint of melancholy lacing his voice. he looks offended. you've never seen him look this offended, not even when he was accused of academic misconduct that one time. "i'm happy for you, ecstatic even! i swear i am, but really? why would you keep this for me for so long?"

you decide you should talk to him—felix is very clearly out of his depth when it comes to handling intense situations like this and he's only making jeongin feel worse with all the jabbering. you stand up from your seat on the table and walk over to him, taking your hands in his.

"i'm sorry, jeongin. we... we weren't entirely sure of how we were gonna do this," you tell him, almost in a whisper.

felix scratches the back of his neck, avoiding any and all eye contact with either of you. "we wanted to keep it quiet," he admits. "at first, at least."

you nod in agreement, and turn back to look at jeongin. "you were going to be the first person we would break the news to. not even our own parents, i swear," you divulge, while you spot felix in the corner of your eye making a silent crossed hearts gesture to double down on his sincerity. jeongin's once-tense features start to ease up a bit, but not entirely. "you are our best friend. we never want you to feel like this. we're sorry," you assure him, before pulling him into a bear hug. you feel felix join from behind you to make it a group hug.

"i don't care what you guys have going on, but don't keep any more secrets from me. got it?" your friend huffs after you all pull back, feigning some sort of authority. felix chuckles at how ridiculous he sounds—being the youngest of the three, the tone just sounds alien when it comes from him. "we would never," felix tells him, reaching out to give jeongin a firm pat on the back. "i think y/n might like you more than me anyway, they're always going, 'we should call jeongin! we should send him a photo! we should—"

your palm slaps against the lower half of your boyfriend's face in protest. "we might be dating but you're on thin ice," you glare at him, before he raises both hands to surrender.

jeongin jovially chimes in to break the tension: "can i just say, i've always felt like you'd get along. aren't you glad i introduced you to each other? you wouldn't be a thing if it weren't for me, ya know." felix and you just huff in response—he can have this.

[elysianstarfall]

miscellaneous phantom busters hcs

(pre-dating or dating, i have no clue so read however you want)

summary: the title, basically—this is also a chapter on wattpad so check it out (same name as tumblr)

characters: shishikuno mogari, korekishi eugene, kanzaki kaoru, tamon kotaro

s. mogari

✧ randomly sends you the stupidest memes/insta reels/youtube shorts/tiktoks he can find

- he is DEEP into the brainrot (korekishi has no idea what he's talking about)

- considers it part of the "youth experience"

✧ begs you to try weird food combos with him

- "pickles... and nutella."

- "what the fuck?"

- "it's good, trust."

✧ lowkey has a sleeper build

- once you were bored in class and wanted to see his biceps (real)

- "mogari, can you flex—WHOAAA?!"

- he loves when you compliment him because it feeds his ego like crazy

✧ does the thing where he taps you on the shoulder and then looks away and pretends it wasn't him

- fails every time because he cannot keep a straight face

- "there is literally no one else around. who, besides you, could have possibly done that?"

- "...a ghost?"

✧ has, multiple times, handed you his phone and told you to record him doing something "really cool" only to eat shit or wipe out

- "first try!"

- "more like eighth. also, you scraped your knee. come here."

- at least you take care of him when he gets hurt (maybe that's his plan?!)

- when he actually succeeds he expects you to glaze him

- "THAT WAS SICK AS FUCK! RIGHT?!"

- "it was pretty cool, i guess."

- "YESSS!"

k. eugene

✧ stays up on call with you if you need help with schoolwork

- explains topics really well (chatgpt who?)

- is super patient and wants to make sure you understand everything

- somehow never oversleeps even if you both stay up really late

✧ randomly fixes your uniform for you

- adjusts your collar and stuff

- "what are you doing?"

- "making sure you don't get in trouble."

✧ has insanely pretty handwriting

- it actually looks printed

- "can i see your notes, korekishi?"

- "of course. but, i thought you took your own notes?"

- "yours look nicer..."

✧ lets you do whatever you want with his hair

- it's so silky and smooth

- sometimes you braid it during class and he just leaves it like that for the rest of the day

- he carries hair ties around and lets you use them

✧ knows there are dating rumors about you two but purposely doesn't correct people

- defends you with his life if anyone talks shit about you though

- "korekishi, why do people from class c think you're my boyfriend?"

- "blimey, i wonder why."

k. kaoru

✧ sends you out of context manga panels, and when you ask what's going on he just tells you to read the manga to find out

- "wait, that's so funny... what the hell is happening, though?"

- "here's the link. it's chapter 239."

- "fuck off."

- you still read all 239 chapters and beyond

- he's gotten you into like 15 new series this way

✧ sometimes you just watch anime while video calling

- he has to rewatch episodes by himself afterwards because he just zones out staring at you instead of watching with you

- infodumps randomly but makes sure you don't get spoiled

- straight up lies to you if you come across spoilers so you don't believe them

- "he DIES?!"

- "no, what are you talking about? someone totally made that up."

✧ has really long eyelashes and lets you stare into his eyes for however long you want

- you love having "staring contests" with him (totally not an excuse to look into his eyes)

- he definitely knows but just lets you do it so he can stare at you more

✧ talks about you to his sister way too much

- she's sick of hearing about you but still wants you to come over

- you make him happy, so why wouldn't she like you?

✧ lets you trace over his scars and draw on him

- still avoids getting touched by the other guys though

- comes to your classroom during break or lunch just to sit with you so you can use pens to draw stuff on his hands

- he likes how focused you look while drawing

t. kotaro

✧ texts you sometimes but mostly prefers voice calling since he likes how you sound

- occasionally tries to do video calls but starts tweaking after a while from the eye contact

- "y/n, please, please, please turn off your camera."

- "damn, am i that ugly?"

- "what—no!"

✧ speaking of calling, calls you late at night when he can't sleep

- you're literally his asmr

- you don't mind because his sleepy voice is so, so nice

- likes it when you ramble so he can just close his eyes and listen

✧ has a spotify blend with you

- listens to every single music rec you give him but is way too scared to recommend you anything

- made you a playlist, sent it to you, didn't check his phone for the next 12 hours in case you didn't like it

✧ most used apps are the weather and calculator apps

- uses them to look busy and get out of talking to people

- "we're literally outside, you do not need to check the weather right now."

- "...yes, i do."

- "and why are you putting random numbers into the calculator?!"

- "i just... really like math."

✧ has no idea how to start a conversation so he just sends you cat pictures

- wants you to say something so he can talk to you

- every time, it's a different cat... you have no idea where he gets all those pics from

- "tamon, you know you can just say 'hi' or 'hello'?"

- "my bad."

[fluentmoviequoter]

Chemistry Partners

Requested by anonymous but I lost the full request

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!PO!reader

Summary: Tim and Lucy assist you in locating a parolee in violation of his conditions. Lucy notices the undeniable chemistry between you and Tim, but doesn't expect Tim's response when she points it out.

Warnings: fluff, mention of prostitution, threat against r

Word Count: 2.0k+ words

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info

“CDCR, probation. How may I help you?” you say to answer the phone.

With the receiver tucked between your ear and shoulder, you look at your current list of parolees. The spreadsheet shows three red lines, and you frown as you read the names.

“Hi, I’m calling about Dexter Wheeler,” the woman on the phone says. “I believe he’s one of your parolees.”

Sitting up straighter, you reply, “Yes, ma’am, he is.”

“Well, I’m sorry to bother you and I’m sure it’s nothing, but he hasn’t been to work in three days. His conditions for employment allow him sick time and personal time, but he hasn’t notified us, and he isn’t answering the phone.”

“Okay, I am supposed to have a check-in with him tomorrow,” you read from your screen. “I’ll look into this and let you know. Thank you for the call.”

“Of course. Is there anything else you need from me?”

“Nothing specific, no. Is there-  Did you notice any unusual behavior before his absence?”

“He had been a bit distant,” she answers. “Unwilling to answer questions, easily agitated.”

“Did he make any threats or become overly belligerent?”

“No, no, nothing like that. I just figured he was tired or maybe he wanted another job.”

“I’ll certainly find out what has been going on with him.”

“Thank you. Would you mind calling me back after you speak to him? I want to be sure he’s okay.”

“Of course. I’ll keep you updated. Thank you.”

You return the receiver to the phone cradle and navigate to Mr. Wheeler’s parole file. He hasn’t checked in with you recently, and he hasn’t filed any change of employment or violated any conditions of his parole in the past. He’s never been overly kind, but he was trying to stay on the straight and narrow when you first met him. You think your parolees deserve a second chance, but they must be willing to do the work and prove that their second chance won’t be wasted.

With your phone on speaker, you call Mr. Wheeler. It rings repeatedly until an automated message alerts you that Dexter’s voicemail is full. That’s not a good sign.

You log out of your computer, gather your things, and tell your supervisor you’re doing a surprise visit. She encourages you to alert the police, and you nod before you leave the office. There’s no reason to think Mr. Wheeler will do anything rash, but it is still a good idea to have the police on standby.

“My favorite podcast buddy!” Nell exclaims when she answers your call. “What can I do for you?”

“Hey, Nell,” you reply, hitting your blinker. “I’m going to a parolee’s house; he hasn’t been at work for three days and he isn’t answering my calls. Any chance you could put some officers on standby for me?”

“Of course. What’s the address?”

You recite it from memory, then thank Nell. With the promise of another true crime party, you end the call and approach Mr. Wheeler’s apartment complex. It’s neither the safest nor the most dangerous in Los Angeles. You survey your immediate surroundings and exit the car to walk up the cracking concrete walkway.

The buzzer echoes in the dim hallway before you exit and look toward Mr. Wheeler’s balcony. One of his neighbors comes down the stairs and says your name.

“Mrs. Ritter,” you reply with a smile. “How are you? How are the kids?”

She sighs and clicks her tongue. “Still wilder than Tarzan.”

You laugh at her unusual analogy. She was one of your first parolees, and you’re proud of her progress in her personal and professional life.

“You here for Mr. Wheeler?” she inquires after hearing you’re doing well. “He has been holed up in that little pigsty since Friday night.”

“Really?” you ask. “Do you think he’s okay?”

“Still makin’ noise and it don’t smell no worse, if that’s what you’re askin’. Come on in, honey.”

She opens the gate for you, wishes you luck, and walks to a freshly detailed but clearly used BMW. You wave to her, then walk up the steps to Mr. Wheeler’s apartment.

“Mr. Wheeler!” you call after your knocks go unanswered. You say your name before you add, “I need to talk to you about your job.”

“I quit!” he yells from inside.

“I’m afraid that’s not how it works, Dexter. Open the door and we can talk.”

“I open this door, and we won’t be talking!”

At that, you step away from the door and move back down the stucco hallway.

“Last chance to work with me,” you call.

He throws something against the door, which rattles on its hinges, and you pull your phone from your pocket. With a quick text to Nell, you have backup on the way. Hopefully, you can talk to Mr. Wheeler after the situation is de-escalated.

Less than five minutes later, a police car parks behind your sedan and two officers exit it. You meet them at the bottom of the stairs and open the gate to let them into the apartment complex.

“Thank you so much for coming so quickly,” you say as you lead them up the stairs.

“No problem,” Officer Bradford replies.

“I’m Lucy Chen,” Lucy introduces. “And this is Sergeant Tim Bradford.”

“Nice to meet you,” you respond. “So, my parolee, Dexter Wheeler, lives in apartment 34R. His employer called me earlier because he violated his agreement with them and stopped showing up three days ago. He wasn’t answering my calls, so I came over and knocked on his door. He told me that if he opened the door, we wouldn’t speak, and then threw something at the door.”

Tim nods, then looks around the small hallway. “Any of the neighbors say anything?”

“One of the women who lives downstairs implied that his apartment is – for lack of a better word – disgusting, and that he’s been locked in it since he returned home from work four or so days ago.”

Tim’s eyes remain locked on yours as you speak, and he mirrors your movements as you turn slightly to face Mr. Wheeler’s apartment.

“You want us to take him into custody or just assist in getting inside?” Tim asks.

You sigh, then ask, “What do you recommend?”

“We lock him up,” he answers. “He threw something at you and threatened you.”

“But not in that order,” you remind him with a small smile.

“That’s worse, that’s practically carrying out a threat against a government official.”

“You know this guy,” Lucy points out. “What do you think would benefit him the most?”

“If you’d be willing, I think one more chance might nudge him toward the right decision. If he decides to go the hard way, do whatever you need to do.”

Tim nods while Lucy agrees. He steps to the side and gestures for you to pass him, moving you farther from the door. While your back is turned, Lucy raises her brows and looks between you and Tim. He shakes his head once sternly, then leads Lucy to the door.

Tim knocks with the side of his closed fist and calls, “LAPD! Open the door, we’ve got a few questions for you.”

Dexter doesn’t answer, so Lucy tries, “We just need to see that you’re okay, Mr. Wheeler.”

He still doesn’t answer, so Tim wraps his fingers around the door handle. It turns about halfway, then stops.

“Mr. Wheeler, we know you’re in there. Because you’re on parole, we can come inside without a warrant,” Tim explains. “Last chance to comply.”

“I’m not on parole!” he finally replies.

Tim raises his hands and drops them back to his sides as you deadpan, “Oh, I must’ve been mistaken.”

“We’re coming in, Mr. Wheeler,” Lucy says.

Something else hits the door with a thud, and Tim steps back before bringing his foot up. He kicks the door beside the lock and rushes inside when it splinters and swings open. Lucy lays her hand on her taser and follows Tim while you wait in the hall. A door opens farther down, and someone leans out to see the cause of the commotion.

“Everything’s under control,” you assure them. “Stay inside.”

Lucy returns to the door and steps out before taking a deep breath. “Tim’s bringing him out.”

“Is it bad?” you ask.

Lucy’s eyes widen as she nods. You message your supervisor that Wheeler’s living conditions are unsuitable, and he’s being taken into police custody.

“What?” Dexter asks as Tim shoves him out of the door.

As he closes the door, you catch a whiff of the interior and fight the urge to cover your nose. Tim clears his throat as he looks at you.

“Mr. Wheeler, why haven’t you attended work this week?” you ask.

“I quit,” he tells you.

“Well, you have to tell me that. It’s a violation of your parole.”

“You don’t need to know my every move. I’m not a child.”

“Is that why your home is so dirty?”

“None of your business.”

“Actually, it is. You also failed to answer my calls earlier or open the door for me. Two more violations.”

“I was busy!” he defends.

He attempts to step toward you, but Tim keeps a tight grip on his handcuffs and yanks him back. Wheeler falls, grunting when he hits the concrete landing.

“He was indeed busy,” Lucy tells you.

Your brows raise, and Tim rubs his jaw before he says, “There’s a prostitute in there.”

“He took a prostitute in there?!” you exclaim.

You’re not surprised that he engaged in a criminal offense but by the prostitute’s willingness to go into such a residence. Lucy takes a deep breath before she knocks and reenters the apartment. Almost immediately, she exits again with a scantily-clad woman in handcuffs, closes the door, and exhales.

“Well, Mr. Wheeler,” you begin. “The good news is, I’m not your parole officer anymore.”

He smiles up at you, and Tim ‘accidentally’ knocks his boot against Dexter’s side.

“Bad news,” Tim continues. “You’re going back to jail for numerous parole violations and engaging in prostitution.”

“You’re on parole?” the woman asks.

“That is what’s bothering you?” you and Tim ask simultaneously.

While she attempts to justify her actions, Tim radios for another unit to meet them at the apartment complex and transport the two arrested individuals before you.

As you end a call with your supervisor, Tim and Lucy talk to the officers escorting Mr. Wheeler and his female companion to lock up. You slide your phone into your pocket and wait for them to finish what they’re doing.

After the door closes and the other officers drive toward the main road, Lucy turns to Tim with a wide smile.

“What?” he asks, waving you over.

“Hello?” she exclaims. “Chemistry what? You and the parole officer are like a perfect match!”

“Chemistry?” Tim repeats just as you reach them. “With my wife?”

“Chemistry?” you say, just as Tim had. “Tim Bradford, do you have a crush on me?”

Tim sighs as Lucy looks rapidly between you and Tim.

“Careful,” you warn, while Tim snaps, “You’re going to get whiplash, and I don’t want to hear you complaining about it.”

“I have to get back to work,” you sigh. “Thank you for your help.”

“You’re welcome,” Lucy replies. “I- you’re married?!”

Tim rolls his eyes, pats your shoulder, and follows you to your car. Lucy watches as he opens your door for you and leans forward to tell you something that makes you smile.

“Tell me everything,” Lucy requests as they return to the shop.

Tim doesn’t reply while he follows your car out of the apartment parking lot. Of course, he knows you are perfect for him, but something about hearing it from someone else makes him love you even more.

“Why don’t we get attached to all of her calls?” Lucy asks instead.

“Why are you still talking?” Tim counters.

Lucy purses her lips, then decides, “The sarcastic comments are more enjoyable when your wife is around.”

Most things are, Tim thinks. He’s glad to know you’re safe, and as Lucy continues asking questions he won’t answer, he thinks about you and what you should do this weekend. It will probably be easier to create a plan after he gets the smell of Dexter Wheeler’s apartment off him and his shop and his wedding ring back on his finger.

[buckyalpine]

I was thinking about Bucky. A beefy Bucky. A beefy mob Bucky. Who is such a simp. I think now is the perfect time to talk about it cause I need some fluff and look at that, it's also my favorite @wifeofbarnes birthday!

Happy birthday sweet angel, I hope you have one filled with so much love ❤️️❤️️

-

Imagine a brooding beefy mob Bucky pining after his rivals sweet, shy daughter. He has no business liking her, her father was always teetering on the edge of putting a bullet between Bucky's eyebrows but Bucky couldn't help it. She's too cute. Too sweet. Everyone knows there's something between you both between the fleeting glances and the number of times Bucky's left with a blush on his cheeks whenever your around.

For someone who hates meetings, he's more than fond of going to your estate to talk over business with a man he hates so much. He's going to go to every single one of those meeting if it means he gets to see you. He never gets more than a few moments, no more than a few words before he's dragged away by Steve who isn't trying to get stabbed by one of your bodyguards.

-

Bucky swirls his crystal glass, the ice in clinking against each other as he takes a sip of amber liquid, seated at a private booth at the back of the club. The alcohol that's already warming his body heats him up even more when he sees you laughing and giggling with your friends, a cute little birthday girl tiara on top of your head.

Fuck, you were so perfect.

"You're staring again, you creep" Steve snorts but Bucky pays him no mind. He's too busy looking at you in your pretty dress, your hips swaying to the music. Tipsy, maybe even a little drunk, love sick Bucky wants nothing more than to get a moment alone with you but he's smart enough to wait.

Well, sort of.

"Go distract her bodyguards"

"You're going to get us killed"

"Then you'll die knowing it was for a good cause"

Sam and Steve shake their head as they wander off to find your security team, quietly instigating a small scuffle to keep them occupied. You step outside waiting for your car to pull up, frowning when a large black truck stops in front of you instead. The door opens and-

"Bucky, what are you doing!" you squeak as he pulls you into the back of his SUV, setting you on his lap before telling his driver to park in a secluded area and to leave for a "smoke break".

"I wanted to say hi" Bucky shrugs innocently as if its the most obvious thing in the world.

"And this is how you decided to say hi?" You giggle, feeling butterflies bustle around your tummy being so close to him. You could smell his cologne and the warm scent of whiskey clinging onto his lips; you wanted nothing more than to bury yourself into him. The pink on his cheeks deepened at you caught him in his little act, pretending he wasn't admiring you from afar the whole time.

"I didn't know it was your birthday" He shrugs again while you try to wiggle off his lap, worried someone might see you but he huffs and holds you tighter. "The windows are tinted" he reads your mind without you saying anything, feeling your body relax slightly.

"Wish you'd said hi to me earlier" You say with a sigh and Bucky doesn't like the way you look sad now. You would've loved to spend more time with him instead of hiding away like this.

"I can drop you home" He offers with a boyish smile and you shake your head because it's far too risky and there's no way you'd be able to get away with it and sneak it past your father.

"Not unless you plan on posing as the cleaning lady-

"I can do that"

"Bucky-

"I can pull off a maids dress"

"James"

"Then how about a birthday kiss" He cocked his head to the side playfully and you swear your cheeks couldn't get any hotter.

"Bucky-

"Just one birthday kiss?" He pouts and you can't believe this mass of tattoos and muscle is giving you puppy eyes with his pink bottom lip jutting out.

"I-

"Please, sugar?" He whispers, his fingers tracing nimble little shapes on your hips while you chew your lip nervously, giving him a nod because you can no longer formulate words. He leans down to press his lips softly against yours and you sigh at the little whimper he lets out, his hands pawing at you to hold you closer. He feels all warm and fuzzy on the inside, letting his arms hug your body extra tight.

"Another?" He whispers, lips brushing against yours with a plea in his voice and you giggle, kissing him again.

"One more?"

"Bucky"

"Please?" He smiles when you kiss him until you're both breathless, only pulling away when you need air.

-

Imagine how cute he'd be trying to spend more time with you as discreetly as possible. You're usually at home so that's his best bet so he'll work with what he can.

"Why is this large fuck around my house so often" Your father rubbed his temples seeing another message for a meeting to go over shipments and territories. "Seriously, he's here almost every week"

Bucky is able to pull it off for a bit but honestly not for long. He's sitting across your father and it's gotten to the point his guards don't bother waiting by the door because Bucky isn't even a threat. He always comes and goes like it's his own house and they're not blind, silently betting over if this will end in a war or wedding.

"For fucks sake are you here to see me or my daughter" your father finally huffs, no longer able to take Bucky's blushing and shifting after you left his office to give him a coffee. "You're here to see her, aren't you"

Bucky nods like a school child who got caught cause knows he hasn't been discreet with his crush. Your father contemplates tossing Bucky into the lake with rocks tied to his ankles but he's also seen the way you look at him and there's no doubt the feelings are mutual.

"God damnit"

Imagine wedding and 2 babies later, Bucky is still just as in love with you. The cutest part is he's still trying to be sneaky.

"You're married now, why the hell are you still trying to hide" Your father berates the mob boss while bouncing his grandson in his lap seeing Bucky tug you into the kitchen so he could kiss you. "You're 6 feet tall and built like a line backer, you can't exactly hide, son"

Bucky pouts at you while you giggle hearing your father snort from the living room.

"He's right, y'know" you nuzzle into your husband while he engulphs you in his arms. You squeal when he hoists you up instead and makes a beeline towards the bedroom. You still stir something in him to this day and since your dad was there to babysit anyway...

"Bucky, where are we going"

"To go make baby #3"