Mother-Hen
x gender neutral! reader
Reader who has those over the top mother-hen vibes colliding with the grumpy asshole that is Logan Howlett. Who at first avoids Reader like the plague. Growling out how he wants nothing to do with them. To which they don't take any of it to heart, having done this dance a dozen times over.
Seeing it for it was. He didn't want anyone to get close as it meant caring and if he cared about someone, it could then be used against him. And that was simply more unnecessary heartbreak to drown in a bottle of whiskey over. Oh, but it doesn't stop Reader from bulldozing that down.
It all starts when Logan brings a relatively new mutant down to their room instead of the infirmary after a group mission. 'Scared of hospitals and the like. You were the next best thing,' he gruffs out. Seeing the extent of the injuries from how torn up the mutant's clothes are, Reader clears the table, grabbing their first aid kit. Logan laid them down.
Watching from the sidelines as Reader prepares a needle and thread, stitching the mutant's skin together. 'Your turn,' Reader wets a rag to get rid of the dried blood around Logan's already healed wounds. 'I can do that myself.' Too tired to fight against it altogether, Logan takes the rag. 'Thank you, now go. I'll watch over the kiddo.' Their foot now in the door. Letting him leave to the shadows.
The next time they cross paths is late at night when Logan’s abruptly awoken by a nightmare. Deciding to go take a ride on his motorbike when he smells spices in the air. His nose leads him to the kitchen where he sees Reader cooking up a large pot of soup. Their hair tied up into a lump, resting on the nape of their neck. Sleeves rolled up as they chopped vegetables and chicken to go into the broth. The sick season was close upon them.
'Why are you still up, cooking soup?' Logan spoke up after leaning against the wall, his tone accusatory. 'Because of how often everyone forgets to eat. Plus sometimes after missions, it's nice to have something you can just heat up.' Reader answers, watching out of the corner of their eyes as Logan sits down.
'Not to pry, but what's keeping you up?' They had always thought he had a weariness to his bones, outside of the added adamantium. ‘Couldn’t sleep,’ comes his short reply. Not really wanting to talk about it. ‘Touchy subject, got it. Well, you can stay if you like and I can dish you out a bowl when it’s ready. Need someone as a taste tester anyways.’
Logan doesn't respond but ultimately stays, the coziness of the kitchen was better than how he'd feel, standing alone, under the stars. Genuinely desiring company for once; Reader's company.
'Here you go,' pushing a bowl towards him. 'Thanks,' not bothering to blow on the still hot soup. Reader nods, going back to packaging the soup in deli containers. Moving stuff in the fridge around to make room. Logan, after finishing his bowl, takes up the mantle of cleaning the dishes.
Waving away Reader's 'oh, you don't have to do that.' Saying that he wanted to. That and his calloused hands were accustomed to manual labor. It was the least he could do in exchange for some well cooked food, as shown by the grin on his face.
Logan realizes they’ve wormed their way into his heart when he finds them passed out cold on the couch in the common room. Chuffed that at the very least, Reader seemed to have been taking a moment of relaxation for themselves. The battered old tome he had lent to them had fallen to the ground mid-reading.
Their neck at an awkward angle that would definitely hurt in the morning. ‘Really got yourself into a pickle here.’ Taking a minute to argue with himself, running the pros and cons of what he was about to do. Cause yes, he could simply toss a blanket over them and call it a day yet his gut was telling him that wasn’t enough.
‘C’mon, wake up bubs.’ Jostling them by the shoulders, helping them up to a standing position as they’re still half asleep and groggy. ‘Logan?’ Hands guiding them by the shoulders. ‘Yea, it’s me.’
Not realizing in their state that Logan was guiding them towards his room and not theirs. That is until they see all the Americana type decor. ‘What are we doing in your room?’
‘Was closer…the common room’s no place to get sleep with all the busybodies trudging in and out. That and your neck looked like it was killing you.’ Explaining like it was obvious. Sitting on his usual side of the bed, Logan held up the duvet. A silent way of telling Reader to get in.
Too tired to argue with how homy the atmosphere is, they oblige. Climbing over to rest their head on Logan’s chest. His heartbeat easily lulls them back to sleep.
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god i feel so fucking stuck. it doesn't sound like i'm getting that job i really wanted after all, which means my only real option forward is to take the supervisor role being created in my office.
they want me for this role. everyone at office level who advocated for its creation had me in mind. it's not really a career path i'm interested in, but it's something.
only problem is my patience and tolerance for Nightmare Coworker is getting shorter by the day. she blew a gasket again today when some r&d folks—whose arrival had only been mentioned to me offhand—showed up. because she wasn't told by the manager herself. she stormed away to go on a walk, came back, and stormed away again to have a long chat with the manager. manager is apparently only doing what the previous one instructed her to: rely on the two point people in the clinics. which, yanno, makes sense.
(fuck. maybe i should take the managerial track. so i can be there for my team like my managers in this job haven't been, and fire the fucking toxic mold spore before she infects the clinic.) (and honestly, because no one has left over her yet, that's likely why nothing has happened. but where the fuck am i supposed to go? back to the fucking donut shop???)
Nightmare Coworker is in absolute denial that she is not The Best, in denial that people with some modicum of power in our office want me promoted, and in denial that it could ever fucking happen. the only thing she has convinced herself of is that i'm going to "get promoted and leave" which. i fucking WISH.
but here we are. no offer in sight for the thing i want most right now. no exit signs for hundreds, if not thousands of miles from here.
i want to take that damn supervisor promotion, but i can't even message my own manager without Nightmare Coworker reading slack over my shoulder and then having a meltdown about it. how am i supposed to go talk privately to my manager, have an interview with her? Nightmare Coworker's going to fucking flip her shit when the reality of an internal promotion with my name on it comes to light. and i DON'T have the energy to cope with it. the only outcome that might not break me is if she has a massive meltdown and quits on the spot. no notice. and i don't know how realistic that is to expect.
myself and others at this office are surprised and demoralized that Nightmare Coworker was not fired months ago. and honestly in hindsight i think Old Manager was far too soft. he was supportive, but too supportive, to the fault that accommodating everyone means accommodating no one. and current manager is spread paper thin, which is why she needs an office supervisor. but the window to get this person fired without invoking catastrophe has long since passed.
i wish i could turn my cold, frozen fear into spite or vengeance. to internally be grinning from the sidelines as i light the match and toss it into the massive pile of kindling and firewood that Nightmare Coworker has dug herself into, and set her ablaze. i wish i could feel anything other than fear.
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Gojo Satoru x pregnant!reader
protective!Satoru, fluff, a lil angst, mention of feeling guilty, implied heavy symptoms experienced by the reader
"it's ok, baby. i've got it." Satoru says as he approaches your slouched form over the sink, washing the dishes as you try to get something done and make yourself useful.
you've been feeling guilty during the past month or so, feeling like you were a burden to him, thinking that you would never live up to his expectations. now he has to take care of you. and as time goes by, it will get even worse as your pregnancy progresses. but he's a busy man with heavy responsibilities. you'd be only holding him back. you torture yourself with these thoughts every day.
"oh, thanks. i'll go clean up the living room and do the laundry then." you respond with a forced smile, trying to mask the guilt that's been gnawing at you for a while as you try to keep yourself from falling over out of dizziness.
"what? no, wait! i'll do it after i wash the dishes. you go get some rest. you've done enough." he retorts while gently grabbing your arm, voice slightly raised to stop you immediately.
he is in utter disbelief at your behavior. you should be resting right now, tucked in beneath the soft sheets peacefully. you shouldn't worry your pretty little head about anything, he thinks.
"i haven't done anything all day." you utter in a faintly frustrated tone, mostly at yourself.
"and that's exactly how it should be." he replies with a nod, "now go to bed before i drag you there myself." he adds, maintaining a playful tone, a soft smile adorning his features as he drinks in your beauty. you're already glowing. but considering how observant he is, he senses your discomfort immediately like he can actually feel the gloom and sorrow you're feeling right now like a mother hen.
"what is it, baby? tell me." he murmurs as he walks up to you and pulls you into him by your hips, shining blue eyes staring at you as he awaits a response.
his hand rests on your side as the other cups your jaw, his thumb swiping over your cheek that could be dampened any moment now as you feel tears threatening to spill.
"i'm so sorry." you whisper breathily, voice slightly quivering with the lump in your throat as you look up into his glowing eyes.
"for what?" he asks, confusion evident on his features.
"for being weak. i'm so sorry to disappoint you." you finally spill out the words that have been weighing heavily on your chest as the tears cascade down your glossy eyes.
"disappoint me? i don't understand... why are you crying, love?" he mutters with a shake of his head, his confusion growing even more by your words as his fingers swipe over your cheeks to wipe away the stray tears.
"you're literally the strongest and you're stuck with me. i'm barely even showing yet and i'm feeling extreme fatigue. i've been sleeping all day for the past month cause i can't do anything. and because of the symptoms, i'll probably have to quit my job." you ramble about the thoughts that have been pulling you down all this time.
"wait, wait, wait! how long have you been feeling like this?" he questions with widened eyes baring into your soul.
"eversince we found out i was pregnant. i can't stop feeling guilty about disappointing you." you reply quietly, almost embarrassed to admit it. of course you know you're being irrational. it's all natural to be tired during this time and need help, but you just can't help it.
"you've been feeling like this all this time and you didn't tell me anything?" he blurts out almost too aggressively to his liking, "sorry. didn't mean it to come out that way." he quickly apologizes after witnessing the slight flinch on your part.
how could he not see it? you've been trying to do the chores like regular, pushing yourself to your limit both in the house and on your job until he swoops in and takes the weight off your shoulders. now he starts to blame himself for not finding out sooner and letting you wallow in your own sadness and guilt all alone.
"you're not weak, baby. you're doing the one thing that i can't possibly ever do. the one thing that the strongest can't do. and what does that make you? huh? you're literally the strongest of all, babe. i can't even fathom what you're going through and you're doing amazing-", "i'm barely functioning." you cut him off.
"i'm not done yet, babe." he says playfully before continuing, "you're doing amazing, honey. you sleep not because you can't do anything else but because you need it. you're carrying our child for fuck's sake. a literal human's life is growing inside you and of course it takes its toll on you. and i'm right here beside you every step of the way." he finishes his loving speech with a tender kiss on your forehead as his strong arms wrap around your now slightly shaking form as you sob, utterly moved by his words and also the hormones.
"thank you, Satoru. i really appreciate it. you always know what to say when i'm feeling down." your words are cut off by loud sobs but he patiently waits for you to finish as he rubs your back soothingly while nuzzling his face in your neck.
"any time, baby. i love you." he whispers in your ear, "i love you too, toru." you say back, continuing to sob in his arms for a while before you eventually calm down and he guides you to bed, encouraging you to take some much-needed rest.
"and don't worry about your job. you can take some time off or quit altogether. i have more than enough to pay for our family and the next generations to come-", "ok, stop bragging!" you chuckle, "i'm just saying, baby. i've been dying to spoil you. now's my chance. let me take care of you. you don't have to go through this alone. in fact, i won't even let you." he chuckles lightly and crashes his lips onto yours, pulling away with a loud smack as you both lay in bed, limbs tangled together, "you already spoil me." you mention with a slight pout, "and i'm gonna do it even more. you deserve it, baby. don't worry about anything. i've got it." he says while softly caressing your cheek, admiring your glowing beauty illuminated by the faint bedside light.
you slowly start to feel the sleep creeping in and drift away into a slumber as you mumble a quiet 'thank you', curling into Satoru's side as he holds you so lovingly while you think to yourself how you've been blessed with the best, most loving and supportive partner anyone could ever ask for.
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