#but i think one time she does like. put her hand on his arm or shoulder or something

[luveline]

hotch x reader with new baby girl, honestly i have no ideas just anything with girl!dad aaron lovey fluff is all i want, he’s just so lovely ily jadey 💕

thank you for requesting! fem, 1.4k

Hotch is so hungry he genuinely wonders if it is acceptable to collapse and beg you to make him a sandwich. He probably would if Jane hadn’t tired you out so fiercely that morning; learning to crawl is hard on both the baby and the mom. 

It’s not his turn to make dinner, but he is, because he doesn’t really care who’s turn it is. He has the tortellini on a low heat, the veggies toasting to a golden brown in the oven. 

He wonders if having a baby isn’t what you thought it would be. It’s certainly not how Hotch imagined it, because Jane is gorgeous and he couldn’t be more in love with her, but she’s also very hard work. Hard work you often perform alone. You don’t seem upset, only tired, and so making dinner is his pleasure. It’s as he’s finishing up that he wonders if he should’ve offered to put Jane down instead. 

He’s trying so, so hard to be the best father and husband that he can be. He might always find it difficult (but it's an effort he’s always willing to make). 

“Dad?” Jack asks. 

“Yeah?” 

“Dinner almost done?” 

Hotch wraps an arm around Jack’s front despite his wriggling. “Almost,” he says into Jack’s hair, “did you wash your hands?” 

“I always wash my hands. Did you wash yours?” 

Hotch laughs. Steals that extra second with his arms around Jack before he pulls away. “Of course I did. I’m gonna go make sure everything’s okay in babyland, okay? And then we’ll fill in your homework diary.” 

Jack nods and goes back to colouring. In babyland, the living room, outfitted with toys and swings and sleepers, you and Jane are slouched on the floor. You’re leaning against the front of the couch with Jane in your lap while she looks up at you. At eight months old she’s more than fond of a cuddle. Her eyes are wide with love and awe alike as you rub the bridge of her nose with your pinky finger, the closer you get to her eyes, the more they squint closed. You repeat the motion over and over again. “You’re feeling sleepy,” you whisper in a funny tone, “you want to nap badly. You’re gonna sleep for a long couple of hours so mommy can have a bath.” 

“Mom can have a bath,” Hotch says. 

You don’t startle, but your surprise is evident in the way your hand slides up her back. “I’m kidding around.” 

“No, it’s okay. You go take a bath, I can have her.” 

“She might not like that.” 

Jane has clingy syndrome. “Does it matter?” he asks sincerely. If she cries, she cries, and he will try his hardest to comfort her. 

You smile slowly, and sweetly. “Okay, I’ll be quick. I don’t want to miss dinner.” 

“Dinner’s ready when you are.” 

Hotch crouches down to begin the transfer. “Hello, little love,” he murmurs, sliding his fingertips carefully behind her back. She’s warm, her onesie soft. “Can dad have a kiss?” 

Jane is a quiet baby. It’s normal that she might not start speaking for a few more months, but beside the occasional ‘bababa’ or giggly laugh, she doesn’t have much to say —not unlike her father. Her communication lays instead in affection. Her emotional intelligence is in the highest percentile, certainly. 

Not that Hotch is prone to bragging. “There’s my smarty,” he hums, pulling her gently into his arms before he stands. She looks at him with equal parts curiosity and annoyance. 

He can guess what she’s thinking. Why is dad picking me up? 

She looks for you with a wobbly lip. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay, can’t dad have some time with you? You’ve favoured your mommy all day.” Hotch brings his free hand to her cheek to stroke it. She loves it, immediately tipping her face into his hand, tickled and huffing as he leans down to kiss her nose. “Please, can I have a kiss?” 

He kisses her cheek. She gives a spitty one back. 

You slink away while she’s distracted and he carries Jane to the kitchen, turning the oven off with one hand, and pushing a chair out with his foot to sit. Jack’s eyes brighten with her arrival, colouring pencils pushed aside. “Hi, Janie.” 

Jack waves at her. She waves back. 

He shifts Jane further into his arms to press lazy kisses over her ear. “My baby,” he murmurs, nearly inaudible against the hum of the washing machine in the utility room and the gentle patter of rain on the windows. “She’s my smart girl. Just like her brother.” He strokes her head back to see her and her baby-lashes. “Hm? You’re my smart girl, aren’t you?” 

She tucks herself into the curve of his neck.

“She knows how to wave already,” Jack says, “when will she be able to say my name?” 

“Pretty soon, bud. Babies tend to learn things in little jumps. She’s making sounds, the babbling she does? That’s a stepping stone. Next she’ll say mama, and then mom, and then we can teach her all sorts of words.” 

“Like crawling to walking.” 

Hotch smiles as Jane leans back against his hand. “Exactly. Jane isn’t the only smarty-pants, huh?” 

Jack smiles in return. “You look happy.” 

“I am happy. So happy, because I’m so lucky to be your dad.” 

“Is it weird?” 

“What?” 

Jack shrugs. “Being a dad.” 

“No, it’s never weird. Sometimes weird stuff happens. Like when we all panicked thinking we couldn’t fine Jane just to realise I was holding her,” —Jack giggles ferociously at the memory— “and, you know, sometimes things get pretty gross.” 

“Like spit up.” 

“Exactly. But being your dad isn’t weird. It feels like the most natural thing in the world. I’m lucky…” He kisses Jane again indulgently. “To have ended up with another child as perfect as the first.” 

“Dad,” Jack says, squirming and pleased at once. 

“What?” Hotch laughs. He has spent a long time proving to Jack that he’s not as serious as he was, a long time trying to keep his promise, and he can see now that it worked. Jack shakes his head and goes back to his colouring as a smile apples his cheeks, not for a moment surprised that his dad loves him without hesitation. 

Hotch beams to himself, absolutely full to the top with love as he lifts Jane up just enough to make her smile too. “Oh, nummy!” he says, taking a big pretend bite of her belly. 

You take a long, long time in the bath. He ends up serving Jack’s plate when his son hints that he’s hungry, and giving Jane another couple of ounces of milk. She grows sleepy on his shoulder. With some soft taps to her spine and a handful of loving shushes, she falls asleep there. 

Sentimental, he thinks, Aw, my girl, and begins to rub her little foot through her onesie. 

You find him standing in the kitchen, hip to the counter. He’s not doing anything besides holding Jane, Jack’s plate abandoned at the table and his cartoons playing from the living room. Hotch should’ve put Jane down for a nap in the bassinet in the living room, freeing his hands to tackle the mess of dishes he’s made preparing dinner, but he honestly hadn’t thought about moving. He’d been perfectly content to hold her and rub her wiggling foot. 

“Sorry I took so long,” you whisper. 

“No, no, you take as long as you need. You look better.” 

You ease between Hotch and the counter, situating yourself in a snug corner to see Jane’s face more clearly. You look at her with love, and then you lean up to kiss his cheek. “I knew you’d get her to nap. You’re amazing.” 

“She likes all the same stuff as you and Jack,” Hotch whispers with a soft laugh.

You pause for a second. Careful, you bring your hand to his cheek, a gentle fist turned with knuckles inward as you stroke his cheek with your index finger. “Can I take a photo of you?” 

“What for?” he asks. 

“I wanna remember it. And it’ll be nice one day to show Jane.” 

“To show her what?” 

“You, Aaron. Show her how much you love her.” You drop your hand to his shoulder for a squeeze. “You’ve gotten even kinder since she was born. Did you notice?” 

It seems you’re feeling sentimental as well tonight. Your long bath has washed away the stress of a longer day. 

“Okay,” he says, too in love with your smile to disagree, “but just one.” 

[morphodae]

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · · ღ HSR Men Becoming Parents (part I) ღ · · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · · ✦ I used a randomized wheel to select some characters on parent/baby head-canons. I will do the rest in other parts, and I also plan on including the HSR women as parents too! ≫ Note: some children of these characters are biological and some are adopted! :) ✦ CW: some related story spoilers for characters, non-graphic mentions of labor and delivery, pregnancy, fluff, mentions of angst but not much

✦ Characters: Aventurine, Boothill, Gallagher, Jiaoqiu x Reader (separate)

≫"Aventurine" - Kakavasha • ♧ • ☆———☆ • ♧ •  You aren't sure why you were nervous to tell him in the first place. He takes the news shockingly well; with a bright, wide smile and a tight hug. But there's no mistaking the tremble in his hands as he envelops you, the worry that furrows between his brows at night when he thinks to his own family, his clan, and their fate. So when that fateful day arrives and you go into labor, it nearly kills him to be kept out of the room with you. "There's issues happening, sir. She's lost a lot of blood and still is, but we are doing everything we can to ensure baby and mother survive this."

Hours pass, minutes, eternity. The mocking ticking of the clock does little to lessen the incessant pacing Aventurine does with his leg as he sits, gets up to pace, then sits some more. Every possible scenario runs through his mind; none of them are positive. He can't help but think back to his cursed luck, to the fate that befell his family and now - you. His child. His flesh and blood and his hope for the future... would he even be awarded that chance? Or would "luck" take you away from him, too? Nearly stumbling over himself, a nurse comes to get him; her eyes dark, exhausted, and her face forlorn as a tired smile stretches gently across her face. "They are both stable now. Would you like to see your little boy, Mr. Aventurine?" ≫ Boothill ━━✥◈✥━━ "Well fudge me! Ain't no way it actually worked!" He spins you around in his strong cybernetic arms; ecstasy doesn't even do his own emotions justice in this very moment. The two of you looked at galactic doctors in passing, some promising the idea of conception as long as Boothill had some genetic makeup left on his person. Which he did: his head and his hair. Still, the two of you didn't put much stock into it but figured you might as well both try. If not, neither of you had any issue being childless or even adopting an orphan from one of the many war planets. Boothill, for as curt and reckless as he could be, always admired your enormous heart for children and animals who had no home, and no one to take care of them. So, when the news of that so-called galactic genius of a doctor managed to successfully combine both your and Boothill's genes to create a baby, it isn't several minutes before Boothill lets your feet touch the ground. Even so, throughout your pregnancy, he still doesn't let your feet touch the ground. Call it dedication to you, his spouse, but also call it a fear of losing his family again. Months pass by quicker than expected and Boothill always managed to talk with the growing life inside you every night, telling stories of the sister they could've had, how proud he was of them already, how much of a fighter they were gonna be when they managed to kick you a little too hard.

And so, when time passes by in another blur, Boothill's eyes are glazed over as he stares down at the tiniest little bundle swaddled in his arms. Tiny tufts of hair that resemble his fill her small head, eyes thar resembles yours. She looks up at him, at her daddy, and one stray arm lands square on his face until her hand squeezes at his nose. Boothill is speechless for once; glad his little girl is strong and healthy and reaching out for his face - the one part of his body he can still feel touch. He swears on every part of his being: it's not just you he has to keep safe anymore, but his new chance at being a father.

≫ Gallagher ∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

The enigma known as "Gallagher" has always perplexed you. Even when the two of you met; just who or what was he? A person? A former person? Or an amalgamation of dreams? He proves you wrong one day when he decides to travel with you to a worn-torn world for your work. As a nurse, you usually went by yourself, but for whatever reason, Gallagher decided to tag along. "It'll be nice to stretch these old legs and get out to new sights," he said. That was before the two of you were stumped: staring slack-jawed at the little boy who had smuggled himself onto your ship. He is a Halovian child; small wings flapping nervously out of shame as he peers at the two of you behind some shipping crates. Sighing, you reach down to his level, outstretching your hand and hoping that your demeanor will allow the child to feel safe with you. To your and Gallagher's surprise, the little Halovian rushes to you in a desperate hug, a familiar sound of sniffles and a dampness near the collar of your shirt. "Please! I have nowhere to go! I'm so, so, so sorry to have snuck on to your ship!" the boy sniffles, voice muffled by the fabric he buried his face into by your neck, "please don't leave me! I p-promise I'll be useful!"

'Useful'... a word Gallagher could resonate with, one that hit a little harder than most when he slowly began approaching the boy in your arms. Something changed in his demeanor then, large, scarred hand deciding to ruffle the boy's hair until the Halovian sniffled and peered up at him. "No need to cry, kid. We'll take you with us, alright?" Gallagher glances to you for approval and you send him a kind smile and nod. The young boy grips on harder to your shirt, thanking you profusely as you carry him off somewhere safe until you can go through the proper channels to adopt him.

≫ Jiaoqiu —————❖————— "Why?"

"Why?" "How could I ever be upset with you...? The only part of me that's upset is you thinking I wouldn't want you after this news." He wraps his arms around you, contented smile on his face. "If this is what you want then, yes, of course it'll be hard, but I'm willing to experience this with you." Your hormones are raging as you hug him back, fear slowly dissipating as the guilt for letting yourself fall pregnant when Jiaoqiu's eyesight and wounds were still healing. "I never thought an old fox like me could be a dad, heh," he mumbles, holding you just a little closer, "but I think I could get used to it... the word: 'Papa'."

Despite one of senses severely impaired, Jiaoqiu is still just as much of a mother-hen as always; ensuring you are taken care of, properly nourished, and resting when you need to. He uses the excuse each day that he "needs to check your progress" on the growth of your belly, but knowing he has little to no experience with pregnancy as a healer, it's quite obvious he's lying just to feel your tummy and bond with his little kit. Jiaoqiu will use text-to-speech books on pregnancy and parenting frequently, telling you all about the progress and changes your body is going through. And, for the record, he takes any mood swings and changes quite well; the reason is quite simple, too. He never thought he'd ever have the luxury of settling down with a family of his own and so, he cherishes every single moment of the process: good and bad. When you go into labor, he's immediately at your side. His Foxian blood can practically sense it. His instincts take the better of him and he refuses to leave your side for even a single moment; wrapping his tail protectively around you and nuzzling his face close to yours with a flurry of kisses and encouraging words. His hand certainly hurts when you squeeze it, but he doesn't mind. He also doesn't mind if you feel the need to scream; in fact, he encourages you to let it out if it hurts. Feeling the tears on your face and hearing the agony in your voice as you try to stifle your cries hurts him more than you know. But, oh... when the first cries of his beautiful child is brought into the world, he feels that familiar lump of emotion forming in his throat, his chest constricting. When you describe what she looks like, describes just how much she resembles him, Jiaoqiu breaks down. He apologizes quickly and tries to compose himself. But it doesn't last long when he's allowed to hold his daughter with your guidance.

When her tiny hands wrap around his finger, he knows... he knows that he's finally reached a point where his centuries of healing others has finally begun to mend his broken heart back together.

© morphodae (please do not insert any of my works into artificial intelligence programs or repost my works on any site)

[allmoshnobrain]

You're a short girl, and sometimes that messes with your confidence. Your boyfriend doesn't seem to care at all, though.

✦ on this fic: simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader, fluff, reader is short and it makes her a bit insecure

✦ a/n: this is my first time writing for anything other than metallica/megadeth/venom which is what i usually write for but i've been daydreaming a lot about this man and needed to get this out of my system 😭 also it was a great way to warm up and start writing again after my break!! hope u guys enjoy it 💖

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

It takes him a while to pick up on your insecurity.

It's subtle, and honestly, he’s not exactly great with subtle. He fails, at first, to catch the way you pout, the way you frown whenever you see a hot actress who’s taller than you, or a long dress you think would look better on someone with a few more inches.

He finally catches on, though, one night when you’re cooking dinner. It’s kind of a slip up, really — a tiring day and your period cramps the worst they’ve been in the last few hours just making it easier for you to get upset over the smallest thing. So when you can’t reach one of the trays on the top shelf and have to ask him to grab it, he turns around to see you teary-eyed and upset, which is not how this usually goes.

“Love?” he asks, his brow furrowing when he sees your state “What’s wrong?” He glances at the glass tray in his hands. “Did I grab the wrong one?”

“What? No, no, it’s fine,” you mutter, his confused look quickly shifting into worry when he notices the tears in your eyes.

“Hey,” he quickly puts the tray down and gently grabs your chin. “Talk to me. What is it?”

He’s firm, straightforward but not harsh, which just makes you feel even more ridiculous for almost crying over something so dumb.

“I’m being silly,” you say, but he shakes his head. 

“Don’t say that,” he mutters. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

That last part sounds almost like a command, his voice all firm and serious — something that would probably annoy you if he didn’t sound so genuinely concerned. You sigh.

“I wish I was taller,” you whisper, hoping he wouldn’t hear it, but he does. Of course he does.

“You wish you were taller?” he repeats, now more confused than worried. “Why?”

“I just don’t want to feel useless, always needing your help,” you half-lie, because that’s not really it.  And of course, Simon knows — he always does. You can tell by the way he raises his eyebrow slightly at you, disarming you instantly. “I wish I was prettier,” you finally mutter.

“You are pretty,” he says slowly, like he’s still trying to figure out where all this is coming from. “You’re beautiful. And I like helping you.”

“But tall girls are… More beautiful,” you sniffle, and he snorts.

“Who said that?”

“I said,” you frown. “Like, every time I see a cute dress that’s too long, I just think I can’t wear it. It won’t look right on me. I always feel like I can only look cute, but sometimes I want to look, I don’t know, gorgeous. Tall girls just always seem to look gorgeous to me, and I...”

“Oh, shush,” Simon grumbles, sliding an arm around your waist and pulling you closer. He tilts your chin up gently so you’re looking at him. “You are gorgeous. And you’re beautiful, and you’re mine. And I like you small — easier to hold.”

You can’t help but laugh. It’s shaky, and you try to hold it back, wanting to stay in your little pity party a bit longer. I mean, seriously, what does he mean by "you’re gorgeous" when you feel the exact opposite?

"Easier to hold?" you say, trying to sound offended but failing as a giggle slips out.

"There she is," he hums, kissing the corner of your mouth, and that’s when you realize you’re smiling. "My girl. Don’t be upset, love. You don’t need to be taller to be pretty. And if you ever need to reach for something, well, that’s what I’m here for."

“You’re just saying that because you’re my boyfriend,” you tease. He lets out an exasperated sigh.

“I’m not.”

“You are!”

“Goddammit, woman. Will you quit trying to convince me you’re not beautiful? It’s not happening,” he frowns, then leans in, pressing a small, tender kiss to your lips. His arms wrapped around you are comfortable, warm and firm and feel like home.

It never fails to disarm you, how soft he can be. Out of the blue, always when you’re not really expecting it. Just when you think you’ve finally managed to annoy him or maybe this is the time he’s gonna get tired of you. He never fails to prove you wrong. 

He never fails to prove that he loves you, just the way you are.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Mad Season 3

Warnings: non/dubcon, social anxiety, chronic illness, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Bucky Barnes, Peter Parker

Summary: a class project gets messy. (short!reader)

Note: happy weekend.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

“Hey, how’d you get in?” Peter rushes in, a tray of drinks in hand. 

You pop up on the stool, broken from your trance. Uncertain what else to do, you spent much of your time trying to distract yourself with his schematics. You twist to face him. 

“Um, Bucky,” you answer and cringe at home dumb you sound. “He helped.” 

“Bucky? Helpful?” He nears and puts the cardboard tray on the table, “I guess he can be.” He picks at the edge of the tray, “I got you a blueberry matcha. The place I hit didn’t have strawberry in season anymore.” 

“Oh, sounds... interesting, but you--” 

“Didn’t have to. I know, you always say so but I felt bad for being so late. I told may to get an airtag for her wallet. She can be so--” he stops himself and chuckles. “It’s whatever. She’s got a lot going on.” 

“Mhm,” you accept the cup he offers. “I was just looking over the plans. I think we could probably just go with yours. Makes more sense.” 

“What? Oh, no way,” he takes his iced whatever. It just looks like layers of sugar and cream. “I think we could easily bring together both. Take some of your features and mine. I don’t want to take over.” 

“Yeah, but...” 

“But nothing. Really. It’s a team project, not my project,” he insists as he hops up on the stool next to you, “so,” he swipes his hand in the air and a holographic screen appears. You flinch. “Let’s compare and redraw.” 

You gape as another floating rectangle appears before him. No wonder his look so much better than your Paint hack job. You want to sink down and disappear. You always figured you’re not interesting enough to be his friend but now you’re certain you might be too stupid and poor for him too. 

“So, I’m going to get logged in...” he mutters. 

“Um, Peter?” You murmur, “are you sure you wanna be my partner?” 

“Why... wouldn’t I?” He hovers his hand before the screen as he looks at you. 

“I dunno. I don’t... I don’t have much to offer. Not a lab, not all these cool computers...” 

“Oh this? No, it’s not—it's not a big deal. Dude, I'm so lucky Mr. Stark is letting me use this. I’m not ignorant, you know? I just thought it would be easier. I don’t think your roommates like me much and mine are so loud.” he explains as he lowers his arm, crossing both over the table as he leans on it. “Do you not want to be my partner?” 

“Nnnooo,” you drag the word out. “No, I do, but I want to contribute to and I don’t know how to use any of this.” 

“That’s cool. I’ll show you.” 

“Um, okay,” you nibble your lip sheepishly. “I guess...” 

“Did you try the tea? Is it good?” He changes the subject. He does that a lot. Pivots around before you can finish your thoughts. 

“Not yet,” you look down at the bright pink lid, “where did you get this?” 

“Some place called Berry? I don’t know. Everything was bright. You’d hate it,” he laughs again. “Oh,” he snaps his fingers as you blow into the lid cautiously. “Before I forget, I’m having a party. I know it’s not really your thing but it’s ‘my turn’,” he makes quotations with his fingers, “and I don’t really wanna but I also thought I'd invite you in case you wanted to not be there with me, too.” 

Your blink in surprise, “a party?” 

“I know, too much. Well, I didn’t wanna leave you out.” 

“Mmm,” you drone nervously. It is really nice of him to think of you and after everything else, you hate to say no. “No one ever invited me to a party.” 

“No?” His brow furrows, “really?” 

You shake your head, “I’ll come. Yeah. I’ll try. You know, it’s college and ...” you take a sip and clear your throat, “should I bring a dessert?” 

He laughs and gives you a playful grudge, “wow, I don’t think I’ve ever had anyone ask me that except my aunt’s friends. Nope, you can just come as you are. You can always bring some drinks for yourself but I’ll have more than enough to share.” 

“Oh, okay,” you nod. 

“The tea good?” He asks again. 

“Yeah, sweet,” you put the cup down. 

“Awesome!” He grins. “I really didn’t think you’d come. I’m so excited.” 

“Really?” You ask. 

“Well, duh. You’re so fucking cool. Like all my other friends, they try so hard. It’s all ‘let’s go do shots’ or ‘watch me do this dumb shit’. You don’t even try, you’re just you. It’s like people don’t realize they can just be nice and be cool for just that.” 

“I... yeah,” you don’t know what to say.  

It’s like he’s calling you boring but not. You know you are and you don’t mind but you can’t ever remember when you just felt like everyone else. Where you weren’t the odd one out. Despite trying to include you, Peter still manages to push you to the edges. 

You wince as you notice how he stares at you. You fidget and pick at the button on the front of your corduroy skirt. His eyes flick down to the nervous movement. 

“I like that,” he reaches to touch the ridged fabric, “blue. Oh, thick.” 

Your leg twitches in surprise, “uh, yeah... found it at the student thrift shop.” 

“Really?” His fingers brush over the hem and touch your coloured tights. They linger for a moment before he pulls away. “Cute. I’ve never been there.” 

“It’s not bad...” you cross your legs as you knee tingles from his touch. That was strange. 

“Well, anyway,” he waggles his fingers as he turns back to the table, “uh, where was I?” He squints at the screens and taps in the air. He pauses and looks at you. “Here, I’ll show you how it work, alright?”  

He reaches over again and you brace yourself. He grabs the underside of the stool seat and drags you closer. He it so easily, you gasp. He’s a lot stronger than he looks. He slides his hand around so his arm is diagonal around your back. 

“Right, so...” his shoulder presses to you as he points with his other arm, “you can just use your finger. I’ll have to add your prints to the program. Put your hands up.” 

You obey as he stays close. You’re overly away of it. The way he’s pressed to you. He doesn’t seem to notice at all. You try not to think of it and focus on his instructions. The project. That’s why you’re here. 

[sweetimpurity]

i think i speak for alotta Miguel lovers...but we need more blue collar Miguel. Bots AND fics.

🍊 no.2

Whatever you like. Mechanic. Engineer. Construction. Welder. Bricklayer. Tiler.

Could be in a relationship with us or maybe just the guy who comes around.... Oh even a maintenance man. Handy man. Bob the builder. Nah. But we all know we'd love to see him working a car..

Thank you anon for all these wonderful requests! I'm working my way through them and consuming the necessary media to do these justice haha! I love it! 🍊

These bots can all be found on my profile: sweetimpurity on c.ai!

Blue collar husband ೄྀ---ˊˎ-

He’s tired and dirty after work…

He's tired and dirty, sore and achy. Coming home after an insanely long day and walking up the steps to the front door is his last big hill to climb. All he could think about all day was your pretty face. He absolutely hated leaving the bed this morning. Wanted to stay there with you in his arms. But his job is demanding and tough. A different construction sight, more shingles, new bricks to be laid all the time. But he does it all for you. Even more than for himself.

He finally makes it to the door, opening it with his key and stepping in. Relishing in the quiet of the apartment, knowing you're in here somewhere.

"Baby, I'm home..." He calls softly, putting his bag down, peeling his jacket off and the hat he was wearing pretty much all day. "Jesus..." He sighs, seeing the dust covering the brim of the cap, watching it fall off onto the carpet and onto his hands. "I'm filthy..."

Handyman Miguel  :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ

He’s come to fix your pipes… 😉

The faucet is leaking again. Of course. Because as soon as you get someone to come fix your radiator, something else would break. With the cabinets under the sink wide open, towels scattered across the floor, the boards under the sink soaked and warped, cleaning supplies and things all scattered across the kitchen floor... you're just waiting for your savior to finally come. The plumber you called in a sort of emergency request to help stop your floor from completely flooding through.

So antsy you wait here. You live alone so there aren't any roommates sharing in your panic. Watching the pipes leak into a pan under the sink, checking it every half hour. Watering your plants on the fire escape with the water that collects. Then instantly putting the pan back under there to collect the water seeping out through the threads of the pipes. Feeling quite helpless.

Finally after this process continued all morning long, there's a knock at the apartment door. You're in the process of bringing the pan back to the sink when you hear it. "Just a second!" You call frantically, putting it down and rushing over to the door. Practically ripping it open. And delivering a long winded explanation of everything that's gone on all day, all in one breath, all in a panic.

The poor handy man stands there, listening to your panicked retelling of all that's gone on. His dark eyes slightly widened, looking down at you from his tall height with soft concern.

Extra! *ೃ༄

Firefighter husband 

Your lifesaver…

"Pa! Pa! Papa!" His little girl squeals, bouncing up and down as he pulls his jacket off and puts his bag down after a long day at the station. Some routine checks and a car accident on the interstate were what made up his day today and he's tired to say the least. But seeing his kids and you makes it all worth it.

"Hey mija..." He grins, picking her up as much as it strains his muscles. Giving her big kisses on her chubby little cheek as she instantly starts telling him all about her day. Soon after, he sees you and the other little ones emerge from the kitchen to greet him at the door. He's grateful for his family after a day like that. To see everyone's faces after the day he had is like heaven.

Kinda went overboard ha! I hope you like them! And if you have any critiques or the links don't work let me know! Love ya! More to come...

[lynzishell]

The Past 🩵 Asher

Once we’re seated and buckled, Lex turns to me to begin her interrogation before I even have a chance to pull out of the parking garage. “Okay, so, first things first, did you sleep with him?”

I glance over at her, surprised by her question. I figured that was implied considering we left the club together last night and I didn’t come home until this afternoon, but good for her for not making assumptions, I guess. “Yeah, I did,” I say, fighting a losing battle with the smile spreading across my face. 

She smacks me in the arm and gasps, “Really? How was it?”

This really isn’t the part of the night that I need to talk through, but I allow myself a moment to think about it anyway. I prop my arm up on the door so I can rest my head against my hand. My hair feels clean and soft, and still smells faintly of his shampoo, sparking a memory of running my hands over his body in the shower. The image makes my stomach flutter, and my voice comes out a little dreamy when I speak, “It was amazing.”

“Amazing? Well, I’m going to have follow-up questions.”

“And I won’t be answering any of those questions.”

“Ugh, fine,” she rolls her eyes in mock annoyance, “So, then what happened? How did things go from ‘amazing’ to you sobbing into my shoulder and getting snot all over my jacket?”

“I don’t know. Like, the whole night was great. It was fun, and he was so sweet, and it really felt like… It wasn't just a hook up, it was more than that. Or at least I thought so. Maybe I was just projecting or seeing what I wanted to see because I… fuck, I’m so embarrassed… whatever, I kinda put myself out there today, really thinking he’d reciprocate, but—”

“He didn’t?”

“No.”

“What did he say?”

“Same thing he always says. He doesn’t want to date me because we work together. He just wants to be friends. I don’t know, maybe I’m the asshole. How many times does he have to tell me he just wants to be friends? And I’m over here like, ‘are you sure? how ‘bout now?’ What the fuck is wrong with me? I need to stop.”

“Babe, c’mon, I think you’re being too hard on yourself. I know you. You wouldn’t do that if you didn’t really believe he felt the same way. And I’ve seen the way he looks at you, you’re not imagining it. Sounds to me like he’s saying one thing but acting another and he’s fucking with your head and that’s not okay. If he truly wants to be your friend, then he needs to act like a friend, and he’s not. If you ask me, he’s the asshole, and you deserve a hell of a lot better.”

“I hear you; I do. He’s not an asshole, though. He’s really not. I think maybe it’s more complicated than that. Like, he was so kind, and affectionate… I really felt like he cared. And then today, he just looked so sad when I was leaving. You know how he does sometimes. But I’ve never seen him more down than he looked today, and my heart just, I don’t know, I just want to take that sadness away. I feel like I could make him happy if he’d let me.”

“Careful, Ash. Don’t do that. Don’t fall into that trap of thinking you can rescue him or fix him or something. That’s some toxic co-dependent shit. Pretty sure you get enough of that with your sister.”

“Ow.” Leave it to Lex to stab you in the heart with her honesty. I respect it, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less. 

“Did you or did you not drop everything to rush out to the Bay to help her the second she asked?”

“Yes, but—”

“Are your parents home?”

“Yes.”

“So, in theory, they could help her with her baby furniture or whatever today?”

I let her words sink in. I’ve gotten better at setting boundaries with Iris, but apparently, I still have some work to do. It didn’t even feel like an option to say no to her today, but now that seems ridiculous. Now, I wish I hadn’t rushed out on Atlas. Maybe we could’ve had a nice day together. Maybe I wouldn’t have made a fool of myself if I wasn’t so frazzled and trying to make everyone happy all at once. Damn. “I hate it when you’re right.”

“I know.”

“I don’t think I’m doing that with Atlas though. Like, sure, I want to make him happy when he’s sad, and maybe I overestimate my ability to do so, but I’ve never felt a need to ‘save’ him or whatever. It’s not like that. I just… I like him so much, Lex. I really do. I love spending time with him. And I love the way he makes me feel when we’re together. I could’ve sworn he felt the same way. I mean, just the way he…” my voice trails off as I remember all the ways he looked at me and smiled at me and kissed me and touched me, and then his words “Ash, you’re perfect, you know that?”, and the tenderness in his voice and in his eyes when he said it. The sweet way he kissed my forehead in the bathroom. The way he held me as we slept.

“The way he what? Hello? Where did you go?”

“You know what? I’m not fucking crazy. I’m not. I know he feels it too. So, maybe he really is just super weird about dating people he works with. I mean, on paper it seems logical, right? To not mix your professional life with your romantic one?”

“I don’t know. I guess? What are you getting at?”

“Well, it’s an easy enough obstacle to remove, don’t you think?”

“You’re gonna quit your job over a guy you’ve only known a few months?”

“Why not? It’s better than giving up on a great guy over some job I've only had a few months. I’m not just gonna quit though, don’t worry. I’ll get something else lined up first. But I have a decent portfolio. I don’t think it’ll be that hard.”

“Okay. Well, what if it doesn’t work? What if he’s full of shit, making excuses? What if you leave for him and he still just wants to be friends.”

“Honestly, at this point, if there’s any chance of me being his friend, I think I’ll need some distance for a while to get over him. And also, if I call his bluff and tell him I’m going to quit, and he still doesn’t want to be with me, then hopefully he’ll at least have the decency to tell me the real reason why. Otherwise, maybe I shouldn’t even try being his friend. Maybe, in that case, I’d have to face that he’s not who I thought he was and move on. But I won’t be able to do that unless I know for sure. So yeah, the more I think about it, this seems like the obvious solution regardless of the outcome.”

She pouts at me, clearly not happy, but she doesn’t have an argument against it, so she concedes, “I hate it when you’re right.”

“I know.” I reach over and hold her hand, giving it a little squeeze. “Sorry about your jacket.”

She smiles at that, “It’s okay. Do you feel better at least?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Worth it then.”

Prev // Next

AN: Thank you so so much @madebycoffee for creating the perfect poses for this scene!!! This was my very first car scene and I was so nervous about it, but I love how it turned out and I couldn't have done it without you!! 🥹🩵🧡

[ssentimentals]

seventeen members as love tropes: xu minghao

enemies to lovers

'you're not mine but wouldn't you want to be?'

minghao tries is hardest to stay calm but all these higher ups are making it really hard. he turns to look at you and the sight of your hunched back and bitten raw lips makes him boil. are you two friends? no, far from it. minghao is very aware of the whole 'enemies' agenda that is happening between you both, but does he want to see you like this? nervous, agitated, scared? no. fucking hell, no. he wants to see you burning with passion, wants to see that fire in your eyes whenever you two argue - minghao feels like he's been punched in the chest when he realizes that he's ready to kill just for you to not look this scared.

'can we wrap this up?' he voices out loud, not bothering to hide his annoyance. 'i don't see any point in this.'

'it'd be wise for you to be more polite and remember who you are talking to, xu minghao.'

he sees how you cringe at this, how your hands ball up into fists at the way that man spoke to him. understanding that you are angered on his behalf warms minghao up; it feels incredibly nice to know that you care. he keeps his mouth shut, lets managers drag on about the issue and takes two step in your direction, stopping when your shoulders brush. you tense up at first, sending him a questioning glance but he only stays put to which you reply with a rejected sigh. they lecture him and then start lecturing you and minghao can't just stand still when you're obviously fuming. they are being rude to you and the words are out of his mouth before he can think them through: 'don't talk to her like that.' your sharp intake of breath kind of wakes him up and he stares ahead at all the managers, who all look shell shocked.

'you have no right to talk to her like that.' minghao pushes in a clipped tone. 'she did her best and so did i, our timing got fucked up but it's not our fault. don't speak to her in that tone.'

shortly after you get pulled away by other people and minghao is in for another 30 minutes of lecturing. by the time he finally gets out of that stuffy room, he feels like he wasted ten years of his life on nothing. he sighs, stretches and is about to turn when soft steps stop him. he knows it's you even before you call out his name.

'why did you do that?' you ask, squinting at him. 'why the sudden hero act?'

'it wasn't an act,' he says, rolling his eyes. god, he's so tired. 'but you're welcome.'

'i haven't asked for it,' you spit out, obviously angered. 'i don't need your pity.'

minghao turns around, raising his eyebrow. 'i have never pitied you,' he says strongly, feeling himself getting worked up again as some stupid side effect on you being close. 'can't you just say 'thank you' and move on?'

'i don't need your help!' you hiss. 'i haven't asked for it!'

and - only you can make minghao want to both bang his head on the wall from frustration and laugh like a maniac. he sometimes wants to step closer, pull you into his arms and... he doesn't know. part of him wants to strangle you for being so damn difficult all the fucking time, but another part wants to smash your mouths together so you can finally shut up. minghao is aware of how unhealthy it is just as he is aware of how often your gaze falls on his lips or his biceps. it's good to know he's not the only one who's gone mad. they say it's a fine line between hatred and love and for minghao right now this line is so thin that he barely see it anymore. is it the same for you? he wants to ask, but instead he says: 'why you didn't stop me then? you always could just interrupt me over there but you didn't say a thing. if you don't need my help why i was the one who you turned to when authorities came? you didn't say anything but you searched for me with your eyes, don't even try to deny it.'

five steps. that's the distance that separates you two and minghao thinks it's fitting. he can take two and then you can take two and then maybe you'll play game of chicken on that last step. but you surprise him with taking all those five steps yourself, storming onto him with fire in your eyes that he loves so much. 'you're not the one to talk, minghao. you think i don't know that it was you who asked everyone to wait up for me? who brought medicine to my team when i fell sick?' you try to push him on his chest but minghao easily catches you wrist in his, not letting you move. 'let me go.'

'that's not what you want.' he says in a calm tone that doesn't show all the hurricane which's happening inside of him.

reality of how close you two are standing dawns on you. jerkily, you try to step back but his hold on you is too strong. 'let me go,' you whisper, voice wavering. 'hao, let me go.'

hao. 'that's not what you want,' minghao whispers and lets his other hand wrap around your waist, pulling you even closer to his chest. 'tell me what you really want, angel.' he sees how you shudder at the petname and smiles, leaning in. he lets go of your wrist, locking his arms around you instead. 'you can go if you want.' he leans in, brushing your noses together. 'or you can stay. and i can never, ever let you go. which i think is what you actually want.'

it's brave. it's bold, it's brazen and - it works. your body sags in his arms and you hide your face in his neck, hugging him back. 'prick,' you mutter into his neck, raising goosebumps where your lips touch his skin. 'self absorbed asshole.'

'yeah,' minghao easily agrees, hugging you tighter. 'prick, self absorbed asshole that i will never, ever let you go.'

a/n: this one is a bit vague but i couldn't figure out how to write this for the live of me. i hope this was okay? let me know! - nini

my seventeen works are here

my formula 1 works are here

[spencerxalvez]

spencer reid x fem!reader microfic; 600 words; fluff, athletic reader, slice of life

His chest heaves; every breath tears from his lungs in soft, desperate pants for air. There’s a thin sheen of warm sweat that’s forming over his body: at his hairline, catching in his curls; in the crevices of soft skin at his knees and elbows; along the dip at the center of his back, dripping over his spine. The muscles in his legs tremble delicately, quivering with exertion and threatening to give out.

But there’s her.

He closes his eyes briefly and the image of her remains— all unexpected strength in lithe muscles; soft skin; breath that comes easy and a voice that drifts like summer.

“Need to—” he gasps.

He can tell she’s watching him as he stops moving and the world tilts around him.

“What do you need, Spence?” she asks.

He puts his hands on his knees and looks up into the sunlight, squinting at her. The world rights itself; she’s standing at the center of the path, her hands on her hips and her ponytail caught in the breeze that chills the sweat on his back and makes him shiver unpleasantly. She’s dressed in a matching athletic set and her favorite worn-in running shoes, the hem of the top in line with her just-visible abdominal muscles.

She’s smiling at him, barely out of breath at all.

“Water?” she asks, too sweetly. Spencer swallows hard and shakes his head; he sort of thinks if he tries to drink right now, he might throw up. Instead, he moves toward the grass and tumbles onto it. He hates sitting on the ground, but at the moment anything is preferable to being on his legs. She laughs as he collapses to the earth, and gamely takes a seat next to him.

“How do you do this every day?” he groans eventually.

“I don’t run every day,” she answers reasonably. “Sometimes I take barre.”

Spencer does his best to glare at her. It’s hard, when she’s smiling like that.

“I might be dying,” Spencer croaks, flopping down onto his back and flinging his arm over his eyes.

“You know,” she says thoughtfully, “when I asked you to go running with me, I thought you’d be a little more in shape.”

Spencer peers out at her from beneath his arm, incredulous.

“What ever gave you that impression?” he asks.

She shrugs. “You’re an FBI agent,” she says. “Don’t you have like, physical mandates and stuff?”

Spencer covers his eyes again. “I’ve been avoiding them every year since the one time that Morgan tried to help Garcia and I train,” he says.

“Spencer Reid,” she gasps. “Are you admitting to being a cheater? Deceiving the Federal Bureau of Investigation? In broad daylight?”

“Stop,” Spencer groans, half-laughing. “Actually, there’s only a twelve-point minimum score required to pass the FBI’s physical fitness test. Mathematically, I can afford to score only—”

She has been running for a mile. Miraculously, when she kisses him, she still tastes like the strawberry jam she ate in her kitchen this morning.

When she pulls away, she’s smiling.

“We should do this more often,” she says. “So that maybe you can actually pass it next time. Oh, and you should definitely try something like—”

This time, it’s his kiss that cuts her off. She smiles into it like she’d wanted him to do it all along, and when they pull apart she’s still beaming.

“Race you,” she says.

And then she’s gone. And Spencer— well, like always, Spencer follows.

[sjsmith56]

A Better Man, Part 1 - Preparation

Summary: Bucky Barnes, a shy general contractor with a shady background, offers to help a single mother get her inherited house renovated. It should be simple.

Length: 4.9 K

Characters: Bucky Barnes, named OFC, named OCC, Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson.

Warnings: Bucky’s awkwardness, trust issues, teasing, practical jokes, association with criminals.

Author notes: This is primarily a romance between two people who have been hurt in the past. There will be moments of angst and even some darker memories and events but this Bucky is a soft and sweet guy.

Part 1

All three of the men stood outside the building, waiting, just like they did every Tuesday for the past month.  Bucky Barnes, the man who owned the building, where his general contracting business was located, pulled out a package of cigarettes, offering one to the other two, Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson.  Both declined. 

"She doesn't like cigarettes," said Steve, pulling out a package of gum instead, offering one to Sam, who took a stick, sliding it out of the foil paper before inserting it in his mouth.  "Says it's not good for the baby."

Bucky put his cigarette back in the package, then stuck his hand out for a piece of gum instead, making Steve and Sam grin.  He had it bad if he was willing to chew gum for her.  To be fair, the other two gave up smoking around her themselves, after meeting her for the first time 5 weeks before.

"Here she comes," said Sam, nodding his head towards the end of the block.  "Best part of the week, right there."

The "she" they referred to was Andrea Hart, a single mother who moved into the neighbourhood over a year before but only started walking past their building in the past month and a bit.  They watched as she pushed the baby stroller towards them, her long hair softly bouncing in the light breeze, smiling at other people who saw her walk this way every Tuesday at 3 pm, enjoying the way she radiated something good in every step that brought her closer. 

"Good afternoon," she called out, as she approached the three men.  "Were you all waiting for me to walk by?"

"Yes," said Sam and Steve simultaneously, just as Bucky said the opposite.

Bucky glared at the two men, but he smiled back at Andrea.  "We were taking a break and enjoying the sunshine when we saw you coming so we decided to wait."

"How's baby girl this afternoon?" asked Sam, peeking into the stroller.

"Wide awake for once," answered her mother.  "Would you like to hold Lily?"

Sam grinned.  "Yes ma'am.  I've held a baby before.  My sister has two boys, and I looked after them when they were little."

She reached into the stroller, then lifted out the cutest doll of a baby girl, dressed in a bright yellow romper.  Sam expertly cradled Lily in his arms, smiling down at the baby with a look that the other two men had never seen before.  It obviously worked as Lily gurgled happily at him.  Steve leaned over and poked his finger into Lily's chubby little hand, grinning when she grasped it tight.

"I think she's adorable," he said, in an admiring voice.  "She must bring you such joy."

"She does," smiled Andrea.  "I just wish her dad thought the same way."

"He still not helping you?" asked Bucky.  "We know people who could talk to him.  Just give us his name."

"No, please leave him alone," she answered, the light within her dimming a little.  "I appreciate the offer but he's a lost cause.  Just as well, because then he would have to be part of our lives, and I don't want that.  We're better off on our own."  With a shrug, she smiled again.  "Well, we better be going.  I have to pick some things up at the grocery store."

Sam reluctantly gave Lily back to her mother.  Bucky watched Andrea's face as she laid the baby back inside the stroller, her face soft and full of love for her little girl.  The guy who got her pregnant must be a real asshole for not wanting to be part of their lives.  What he wouldn't give for someone like her to be waiting for him at the end of a workday.  With another smile and a quick wave Andrea left and they watched her walk away until she was out of sight.

"It's not right," said Sam.  "That lovely lady and that sweet baby deserve the best."  He looked at Bucky.  "We are going to talk to the father, aren't we?  He needs to at least be financially responsible."

"You heard her," replied Bucky, taking the gum out of his mouth, and dropping it into the bucket of sand outside the door of his building.  He pulled a cigarette out and lit it, taking several long drags and blowing the smoke out forcefully.  "Find out who and where he is and whether he can afford to support that baby.  Don't do anything to him.  I just want information."

Two days later they met in Bucky's office.  Sam turned on the Smart TV and sent the photos he had on his phone to the big screen.  It was obvious with the first one who the baby's father was.  The first picture of him handing off a shipment to a local drug dealer was all that the three men needed to know that he was bad news.

"Shit," muttered Bucky.  "Brock Rumlow."

"Hydra Contracting," said Sam.  "He doesn't usually handle deliveries but their usual guy, Walker, got himself arrested for beating someone up.  The new ADA is making an example of him, although Pierce is trying to get the charges dropped or reduced."

"How the hell did she get mixed up with him?" asked Bucky, his frown threatening to leave a permanent crease between his eyebrows. 

"Flat tire," said Steve.  "Right in front of one of their chop shops.  He changed it for her, asked her out then swept her off her feet.  When he got tired of her, he left her high and dry."  He looked at Sam, who shrugged.  "Bucky, Hydra has been associated with a baby trafficking ring.  I'm not saying Rumlow would do that to his own daughter but ...."

"If he's not willing to acknowledge her as his daughter then he might not care," stated the dark-haired man.  "Do we have anyone in their organization who can keep an eye on him?"

"Yeah, Quill has been working as security at the strip club.  Rumlow's there most nights.  Do you want someone watching her during the day?"

There was no answer for Sam for a long time, then Bucky sighed.  "She's not working, is she?"

"No, she's on leave.  She seems to have a bit of money from an inheritance, but she'll likely have to go back to work before Lily is a year old.  She was a teacher."

He stubbed the cigarette out and rubbed his face with his hands.  Of all the men to become involved with, Rumlow was one of the worst.

"Do we have anyone on the city payroll who can be doing work near her place?"

Steve flipped through a list on his phone.

"Mrs. Parker's nephew," he said.  "He's in the general landscaping department as a labourer.  Could be trimming some trees that are on public property near her place."

"Arrange it," said Bucky, glancing through the door where May Parker, his receptionist, was on the phone.  "I want to know her other walking routes as well.  Might as well get people staked out on them."

Sam and Steve glanced at each other.  "That might leave us a bit thin," said Steve.  "Unless I spring for more who are on the city payroll."

"Do it," ordered his boss.  "I don't want her to walk anywhere without eyes on her."  He looked up at them.  "Yes, I like her.  I just want her and her little girl to be safe.  It's not like I have plans to ask her out."

With a grin at each other, the two men left, and Bucky sat back, resting his head on the back of his chair, then closing his eyes.  Unable to help it, he thought of Andrea, like he had every day since he first wondered why Sam and Steve waited outside the office at the same time on Tuesdays, starting five weeks ago.  It was two weeks later when he joined them and saw her for the first time.  Sam, who had always been friendly to the ladies, greeted her; commenting on what a fine day it was for a walk.  Then he asked about the baby as if they had known each other for some time.  The jerk had even inquired about the baby's first tooth coming in then shared what his sister used for teething issues.  Andrea had been so grateful for the advice.  Bucky tried to remain indifferent but since that day he couldn't help but wonder if someone like her would ever be interested in someone like him.  With a sigh, he opened his eyes and stood up.  It was no use hoping for someone like Andrea.  Considering the type of work he had to take on, no decent woman should come within 20 feet of him.  He grabbed his jacket and told Mrs. Parker he was going for lunch. 

Half an hour later, he found himself in line at a hot dog vendor, ordering a chili dog and coffee.  Taking it with him, he sat on a bench in a nearby park, taking the first bite.  Watching the people milling about he didn't notice that someone was approaching him until the woman spoke.

"Chili dogs, huh?  I didn't see you for a hot dog guy."

He looked to his right, surprised to see Andrea, by herself.  His first reaction was to stand up, with his chili dog still in his hand, which made her grin, then he gestured to the bench, waiting for her to sit down before he did. 

"Where's Lily?" he asked, after he finished chewing the bite he was in the middle of.

"My friend is watching her," she said.  "I had an appointment with the bank."  He raised his eyebrows.  "Just some things to do with my house.  I inherited it and it needs some work, so I have to get a loan to pay for the renovations."  She looked away for a moment.  When she turned back, he noticed her eyes were glassy.  "They turned me down, so I might have to sell it."

"Why did they turn you down?" asked Bucky.

"Because I'm on maternity leave, and technically not working," she sighed.  "I'm living on the money I inherited but it's not considered income.  It's enough for me and Lily but not enough to pay for the improvements."

"I'm sorry," he frowned, noticing that he was still holding his partially eaten chili dog.  Standing up, he tossed it into a nearby garbage can, then sat back down with her.  "Maybe I can help."

She smiled wanly then looked away.  "That's nice of you but we barely know each other and only to say hi."

It came out of his mouth before he even had a chance to think about what he was saying.

"Go out with me," he said.  "We can become better acquainted."

Andrea seemed amused by that.

"You're not serious.  I have a six-month-old baby that I'm nursing.  I can only go out for a few hours."

"Then have me over for dinner," he said.  "I can look at your place and see for myself what you need doing.  I know lots of tradespeople who would give you a good rate on any necessary renovations if I asked."

It seemed to take forever for Andrea to answer and for a moment, Bucky thought she was going to turn him down.  Then she breathed out noticeably and looked at him.

"Alright," she said.  "Tomorrow, 6:30.  Let me give you my address and phone number.  Don't dress up and don't bring alcohol as I can't drink while I'm nursing."

He grinned, handing her his unlocked phone for her to put her information into his contacts.  Before she handed it back, she called herself and answered the call on her phone, saving his information in her contacts.  Then she stood up and walked backwards away from him.

"Don't be late," she said, before she turned forward as he watched her until she was out of sight, followed discreetly by one of his men.

By the time he got back to the office, Sam and Steve already knew he was seen with her.  Then he told them about getting an invitation to her place for dinner.

"You did what?" asked Steve, while Sam looked at Bucky, not believing what he just told them.

"I asked her out, but it's hard with a baby so I invited myself for dinner at her place instead," he replied.  "She needs work done on her house and I said I could look at what needs to be done and recommend tradespeople who could do it for a good rate."

"I hope you're not thinking of some questionable tradespeople," said Sam, "who sometimes use stolen materials or cut corners."

"Not for this job.  I would insist on quality work."  They still looked askance at him.  "I can assess her security situation as well.  It was a spur of the moment thing.  It's not like I'm going to ask her to be my girlfriend, or anything."

"Bucky, she's a single mother," said Sam.  "You don't want to mess with her heart.  That would be cruel.  Considering your track record ...."

He sighed.  What did they think he was?  He wasn't a slimy lothario preying on a lonely woman.  He was a slightly shady businessman, who was doing something kind for a nice lady who had been taken advantage of by an asshole.  Dinner with her was just being friendly, nothing more.  He sent the pair of them off, telling them to make themselves busy and leave him alone.  They did, but not without making jokes about him getting soft and gooey inside. 

They were even worse the next day, asking him every hour if he was psyched up about dinner with Andrea.  He finally had enough before lunch time and left, heading out in his car.  He didn't even know where he was going then was shocked when he found himself parking outside his mother's condo building.  Taking it as a sign he headed inside, going up in the elevator as it went up to the 27th floor.  The elevator doors opened, and he walked down the hallway towards her door, slowing down as he got closer.  Just as he decided to turn around the door opened and his mother, Winnifred Barnes, gestured to him.

"You made it this far," she said.  "You might as well come all the way in.  Mrs. Parker said you left the office."

With a sigh, he stepped in, following her to where she had lunch already set up for the two of them.  Whenever he needed to talk seriously about something he often showed up at her place for lunch.  He sat at one of the empty chairs, taking the napkin and spreading it across his lap, as Winnifred had raised him with manners.  Then he waited while she served herself first.  Placing some food on his plate, he took a bite, chewed it well, and looked at her.

"So, tell me about her," said Winnifred.  "She must be something if she's got you this bothered."

"How do you even know about her?" he asked.

"Darling, I'm your mother," she smiled.  "Plus, Sam and Steve report to me on any woman who draws your attention.  Don't even try to get them to stop.  I have dirt on them."

"She's a single mother of a six-month-old baby girl," he answered.  "Teacher, living off an inheritance while she's on maternity leave.  The baby's father is a douchebag."  She frowned at him.  "Sorry, he's an associate of one of our rivals.  Swept her off her feet then abandoned her when he found out she was pregnant."

"I already know that."  She took a bite of her salad, then a drink of water.  "What is she like?"

"I hardly know her, but she makes me want to be a better man."  He took another bite of food.  "Her parents basically threw her out and even though she has every right to be angry at her situation, she's so full of light and joy.  The look she has for her baby is a look ... it's a look I want to feel on me.  I would give it all up for her if she felt for me what I feel for her.  I would go legit."  He looked his mother in the eye.  "Is that what you wanted to know?"

She put her cutlery down and placed her hand on his.  "That's what I wanted to know.  Does she know what you really do?" 

"I think she suspects but no, I haven't said anything to her.  I'm having dinner at her house tonight.  She needs some renovations done on her home and I offered to assess them.  Figured I could point some of my more honest subcontractors towards her and give her a good deal."

She sighed.  "You know, I was in your shoes when I met George.  My father didn't have any sons, so I took control of the business after he died, then I met your dad, and he was drawn into my world."  She smiled.  "He could handle it, being a veteran.  Could she handle it if you stayed in?"

For a long interval Bucky didn't answer, then he shook his head.  "I don't want her involved in it.  It would dim her inner light.  Plus, it would make her and her daughter targets.  She doesn't deserve that."  He sighed.  "I don't even know if she thinks of me in the same way."

"Well," she smiled and patted his hand.  "Until you find that out, it's something that you don't really have to worry about, is it?  No matter how it turns out, just make sure that she's protected.  Even just showing up at her place for dinner can make some of your rivals take notice of her."

He nodded.  "I know.  I've already put people on watching her.  I won't let anyone hurt her."

She smiled indulgently at him, then changed the subject to something more trivial.  By the time Bucky left he felt more confident about the dinner.  His mother must have phoned Sam and Steve because when he went back to the office, they didn't make any jokes about him and Andrea.  That lasted until he was ready to go home and change.  He grabbed his jacket, reaching inside a pocket for his car keys, but pulling out several condom packages instead.  Coming out of his office he heard them both snickering and just shook his head at them, before storming out of the main door without a word.  He didn't see the disapproving look Mrs. Parker gave the pair.

When he got to his condo, he showered, shaved, applied some cologne, brushed his teeth well, and put on some dark wash jeans, a button up shirt and a sports jacket.  He looked at the small pile of condoms on his dresser and shook his head again.  Animals: those two were so crude.  It only took 20 minutes to get to Andrea's place which would make him early, so he kept driving until he found a florist, and bought some flowers for her.  She said not to bring alcohol but didn't say anything about flowers.  It wasn't until he was almost at her place again before he wondered if they were appropriate.  When he parked, he looked up lavender roses and groaned at the symbolism behind them; love at first sight.  If he went to get different flowers, he would be late, and she distinctly said not to be late.  With a shake of his head, he grabbed the bouquet and walked up the steps of the three-story brownstone to the door, pressing the doorbell.  Andrea appeared moments later, opening the door.  She looked great, wearing a top and jeans that hugged her in all the right places. 

"Right on time.  Come on in."

He followed her to the kitchen, handing her the flowers.

"These are for you."

She smiled a full smile that made her face light up in a way that made Bucky dizzy.

"They're lovely, thank you!" 

Putting them on the counter she reached for a vase but even on her tiptoes she couldn't grasp one, so Bucky reached over her and put it on the counter.  Quickly, she filled the vase with water, then cut the bottoms of the stems.

"You didn't have to buy me flowers, you know."

"I didn't want to come empty-handed," he answered.  "Where's Lily?"

"I fed her and put her down.  She should be out for several hours.  How have you been?"

Bucky shrugged.  "Honestly?  Nervous about coming over.  I don't go out much."

"A handsome man like you?  I don't believe that."  She arranged the flowers.  "I was nervous, too.  I think I've changed my clothes about three times.  Mind you, the first time was because I leaked."

He frowned at her in confusion, then she pointed to her chest.  It couldn't be helped, as her gesture made him look right there, at a pair of beautiful, full breasts.  Swallowing hard, he forced himself to look in her eyes instead.

"Ah, right.  That must be embarrassing if it happens at the wrong time."

"Tell me about it."  She grimaced, then placed the flowers on the table, which was nicely set for two.  It reminded him of how his mother always set the table for them to eat together.  "Can I ask you something?"  He nodded.  "What exactly do you do?  I noticed your building doesn't have a sign."

"Shit," he thought, then he breathed.  "I can do this." He smiled at her.  "I'm a general contractor.  That's why I know a lot of tradespeople.  What about you?  You said you're on maternity leave."

"Teacher," she replied.  "Elementary school.  They weren't exactly happy that a single teacher got pregnant.  Not the best role model."  Bucky tried to look sympathetic.  "Anyways, why don't you stay here, and I'll bring supper out."

"I can help," he offered.

"It's okay.  I've got it."

She brought lasagna, then went back for salad and garlic bread.  For him, she offered soda but poured herself some milk.  Deferring to her to serve herself first, Bucky waited to help himself.  The first bite of lasagna was good; more than good.  It was really good, and he told her so.  That brilliant smile displaying her inner light came out again and he felt his heart beating against his chest wall, wanting to see it more.  They talked about all sorts of things, laughing and joking about people they worked with.  He shared some funny stories about Sam and Steve, while she told him about her grandmother, who lived alone in the house, then invited her to live there after she found out she was pregnant.

"She died when Lily was just a month old but at least she saw her only great grandchild.  Excuse me."

He could hear her crying in the kitchen and got up from his chair, approaching her, then gently pulling her into his arms. 

"You must miss her a lot," he murmured, as he rubbed her back, not believing how good it felt to hold her, but wondering what else he could do to comfort her.

Andrea nodded, then pulled away and reached for a tissue.  "Sorry to lose it like that," she sniffed.  "My parents weren't happy with me, but she just took me in, no questions asked.  I think my parents are also angry that she left me the house.  I got the feeling they were counting on it to fund their retirement dreams."

"Why don't I help you clean up and you can show me what needs to be done," he suggested. 

She agreed and they cleaned up the dishes together, then she took him to the third floor, showing him the water stains on the ceiling, an indication that the roof needed replacing.  From there, they walked down to the next level, and she showed him a bedroom with water damage around the windows, which looked original.  He took a good look at them, reluctantly noting that they needed replacing.  The main floor, where the living room, kitchen and dining room were, seemed to be in good shape but she pointed out that there were water stains on the ceiling in the living room.

"The bathroom is right above this corner, so there must be a leak," she said.

"Might be that," he stated.  "I would have to open that ceiling up to be sure.  There might be an opening in the brick façade there that's letting water in.  Not the easiest thing to fix without tearing something apart."

She stopped in front of a door.  "This is the worst part," she said, as she opened it, then turned on the light that lit up the stair well.  He followed her into the bottom floor, where she turned on another light then showed him the electrical panel.  "This isn't good, is it?"

He looked at the mass of different wiring that snaked out of the panel, giving out a long, ominous breath.

"No, it's not.  You have aluminum and copper wiring mixed together in there and that's dangerous.  It's a fire hazard.  Fixing this would be a priority and it won't be cheap because they'll have to rewire the entire house.  That means they have to open walls and ceilings up, replace the junction boxes.  It's a big job, will cost a lot of money, and will take a while.  You wouldn't be able to live here while it's being done."

"Shit," she swore, then she started crying again.  "I knew it.  I had another contractor in here and he said none of it was a big deal.  I went to the bank for the money based on what he quoted me.  I should have known he was stringing me along."

"May I ask who you talked to?" asked Bucky, concerned it was one of his guys.

"Sitwell Renovations," she said.  He felt relieved that it wasn't one of his.  "Do you know them?"

"Yeah, they're sleazy," he replied.  "Do you have someone you can live with?"

She shook her head.  "No.  My closest friend is in a one-bedroom flat, and my parents won't even answer my calls.  There's no one else I know well enough to ask."

Just then the overhead light went out and they were caught in darkness.  Bucky felt her hands on his chest and placed his on her arms to steady her.  As their vision adjusted to the darkness, he could make out her face in the faint glow from the light in the stairwell.  She was so beautiful in the dim light.  Her pupils were dilated, and she looked up at him in a way that made him feel like a teenager again.  He really wanted to kiss her but instead he pulled his cell phone out and turned on the flashlight, aiming it at the floor.

"Smart idea," she said.  "I should get a new light bulb in there."

He shook his head.  "Honestly, you need to move out of here until you get the wiring redone.  I'm serious about it being dangerous.  The longer that mess is channeling electricity the bigger the risk of an electrical fire."

"I have nowhere to go." 

Her hands were still on his chest, and she was looking at him in a way that made him feel something he never felt before.  There was a rushing sound in his ears, but he felt like he could hear both of their heartbeats at that moment.

"Move in with me," he offered.  "I have a three-bedroom apartment.  It's in a secure building, with in-suite laundry.  You can take Lily's furniture with you, but it's fully furnished so you don't need to bring anything else.  I'm working everyday but I can be the general contractor for this job, get it all done the way you want, with all the proper permits and qualified tradespeople.  We can work something out for payment because I'm doing alright so I don't need it up front or all at once."

She stepped away from him.  "Why would you do that?  You hardly know me."

He swallowed and looked down before looking at her again.  Tell her the truth.

"I like you, a lot.  You've been dealt a bad hand, and I can help you.  I don't expect anything from you ... you know, nothing like that."  He ran his one hand through his hair.  "I think you need a break and maybe a friend."

While he spoke, she moved away a little bit more.  Her face had changed, become harder and less trusting.  No, I'm not being a creep here.  Please, let me help you.

"I think you should go," she said, in a voice that was barely more than a whisper.  "Please, just go."

It felt like he had just been doused with a bucket of cold water.  Reluctantly, he nodded his head and moved forward, waiting while she stepped aside to let him pass.  Without a word, he went up the stairs then to the front door, looking back at where she stood at the doorway to the basement.

"I'm sorry if I offended you.  My offer is genuine.  If you change your mind, you know where to find me."

He opened the door and stepped out into the night air, taking a deep breath.  Then he unlocked his car with his remote and got inside, looking at her brownstone for several moments before starting his car up and driving away.

Part 2>>

Series Masterlist

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[wyvchard]

Birds of a Feather...

Agent Phoenix found themself displaced in time after waking up to Reginald's younger self. Chaos ensues.

Content Warnings: Canon Typical Violence, guns, restraints, Reggie's field days, Phoenix chaos

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

"Are you doing alright?" Agent Phoenix groaned as they woke up in a rough bed feeling far worse than the time they stayed up until daylight. They took a deep breath to calm down in order to observe their surroundings. It wasn't as clinical as a typical Zoraxis base, a relief to them.

"Nothing too unfamiliar. Where am I?" They glanced at the source of the voice, suddenly pausing when they finally registered a familiar looking face peering at them with worry.

"Is there something on my face?" He raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms to show his disapproval. "If you think these bandages look horrible, you should take a good look at yourself."

"You look like someone I know... just... younger. It's not what you think. I know I look horrible but believe me, I can manage." They looked away, taking a deep breath to focus on something other than their heavy limbs. "I've been through worse."

"You were found unconscious in the middle of nowhere. What could be worse than that? Actually, I take that back."

Phoenix gave him a sympathetic smile before getting up, much to his panic. They chuckled at his fussing. "You remind me too much of my dad. I'm sorry for laughing. He frets a lot."

"Who wouldn't? I know I can be stubborn as a mule but you seem to be on another level."

"Well, I'd say I like to take things on another level." They smirked, amusement spilling all over them, only for them to frown when they felt their ear emptier than usual.

"We confiscated your earpiece. For some reason, it caught the attention of one of our technicians we're taking a poke at it a little bit."

"I'm getting it back, right?"

"If you can get R&D to return it, that is. Speaking of, I have to go. Please stay here? I'm sure some of doctors have plenty to be curious about. Would it be alright if you satisfy their curiosity a bit?"

"I don't have much of a choice, do I? All I can do is sit up at the moment." They mumbled, shooing him off. A part of him remains unconvinced but he has somewhere to be: Roxana is waiting for him.

Phoenix absolutely hated the probing that came moments later. They miss the fact they didn't have to answer questions that weren't "where does it hurt? Have you injested anything you shouldn't? How are you even alive?" or any of the sort.

They so badly wanted to grab the clipboard from the doctor with their TK but that was classified information that mustn't come out, so they put on a smile and answered as best they could without releasing anything classified.

They really wish to know who that young man was, seeing as though he looked a lot like the older photos of their beloved handler.

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

"Reginald..." Roxana stared at her friend who approached her with a silly grin. "You know you really shouldn't have taken their earpiece. Who knows what it is made of."

"You are curious about it as well. Don't give me that look." He stifled a huff, watching as she hands him some schematics. "Roxana, you know I don't understand any of this."

She sighed, pointing at a stool nearby a table with an open sewing kit. "The earpiece is definitely more compact than anything the agency is capable of producing at the moment." Her eyes darted to him working on one of the tears she accidentally created when it was snagged by a tool. She really needs to make a case to allow a bit of leeway in the dress code.

"That's not what I'm interested about. Why is their earpiece so tied to my own? I know I don't pay attention to the other agents as much as I should but I'm sure I can recognize someone like them."

"What makes you say that?"

"Well-" His words were cut off by a transmission. "I have to go. My handler is telling to check out the source of a distress call in the building."

He gently put away the repaired garment and rushed outside, leaving her alone.

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

Agent Phoenix is currently curled up in a corner, one spare radio borrowed from the "supply closet" (empty and unused office) they barricaded themself in.

They need to get evac there. Immediately. Everything felt so familiar yet so wrong. There were some places where they can delude themselves they were back in their office, bullet holes and all. Yet it was too new to them, as if someone patched up the structural failings on the surface.

They held their breath, really hoping that the mail slot there wasn't going to have a-

"Woah! Gun safety rules aside, it's me. Come on. Please get outta there." He sounded surprised at the fact his gun was practically ripped from his grasp in the mail slot although here was a hint of reprimand.

"Leave me alone! I wanna go back. I miss him so much." They covered their ears, still shivering from how similar the young man's voice was to his.

"There isn't really much to miss there. A lot of things you can shoot at point blank range. And I don't think he's around."

They counted the seconds, internally cursing at the fact they need to use their TK to open the door in order to escape.

Despite their preparation, they managed to falter, earning him a chance to tie their limbs with a rope.

"Let me go! I swear I only want to go home." Indignation laced their voice as their struggled. "Please. I'm sure they're worried."

"I only came with a gun because you were reported to have a knife on you. How did you even manage to sneak it past us?"

"Well, why was your first thought to push a gun through a mail slot to calm me down?"

Their unfriendly glare made him wear a wry smile as he mumbled an apology. "Well, why wouldn't I be guarded? You were sending a distress call to the agency, not to mention your earpiece always connects to mine."

Eyes widening at the realization, they looked resigned a few seconds later. "... I won't participate in any questions until you do this one thing for me, Mr. Reginald Crane."

A shiver ran up his spine as they gave him a devious grin.

"Please ask Dr. Roxana Prism if she's willing to make a tine machine with me."

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

I have NO idea where I'm going with this so this is a one shot for now.

Tag List:

@phoenix-and-found-family, @the-one-and-only-043, @ghostlystarwanderer, @jellyfishgummy

[musubiki]

i think sometimes lime would catch mochi staring at him while hes working out and for the rest of the day would joking-not-joking tease her about "You know you can feel me up if you want-- I mean I'm not selfish I'll let you touch my body all you want-- c'mon I know you want to-- Hey I won't even tease you about it afterwards-- Hey c'mon--"

[quietwingsinthesky]

Tossing 🙉 back at u :3 (also 🤝)

How do they react to silence?

I think, from what I've seen of spaceships on good old doccy who, they are never quiet. Not just TARDISes (though Even would love that they are so. well. expressive.) space travel is just noisy in an ambient hum sort of way. A noisy ship is a good ship, a functional ship. A silent ship is bad. The only silent part of space travel is space.

And that's why Even would get so anxious if things were fully quiet around them. With their feet firmly on the ground, they'd get nervous if they couldn't hear anything. It's like a background check constantly running: Can I Hear Things Working: IF yes -> everything is fine. IF no -> we are all about to die.

How do they react to being touched by another person?

very dependent on the person! touch-starved even real and true, but touch-anxious(?) even! also very real! you must approach them like they are a spooked horse and you are the last horsegirl on the ranch who needs them to win the big horse race. treats are very helpful in this regard.

In all seriousness, it's all about trust. Once that's established, Even is. I hesitate to say cuddly. It's more like, they do not understand personal space, do not want to understand personal space, and will insinuate themself into whatever position puts them in the most contact with the person they want to touch. (And very appreciative of things that act as an extension of touch when it can't be supplied, such as getting to wear the Doctor's coat.) They warm up to Jack extremely quick because he's just Like That about casual physical touch, and they enjoy it very much. Once they've befriended Donna, they want to be holding her hand or leaning against her whenever she's nearby. Their first time round with the Doctor, they are constantly reaching for him or returning his touch, easily and happily.

And the second time round, they. aren't. They're skittish about letting him touch them, and they only allow it if they can initiate it and end it on their terms. Even then, it's never going to be an easy thing again, but it isn't unwanted. It will never be unwanted.

And then the Master is. at a certain point, and a lot of boundaries drawn, crossed, redrawn, crossed again, and then forgotten altogether on both sides, and way too much time spent in each other's pockets, it ends up that Even doesn't really register the Master touching them as another person touching them. or. maybe it'd be more accurate to say that the Master touching them doesn't feel to them like the Master touching someone else. That it's more akin to someone touching an object they own to make sure it's still there, or even scratching their own arm to make sure they can feel it. And in turn, Even has even fewer boundaries with them then they managed to develop for other people.

[d1stalker]

Suspension Bridge Effect [Logan Howlett]

Summary: You saved one of the younger mutants during a mission, and now he's obsessed with you, much to Logan's dismay

Warnings: mainly Logan POV, jealousy, cuteness, fem!reader WC: 2.6k - MASTERLIST

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Logan’s losing it; his thoughts are spiralling to the point where he wonders if he should be locked up.

At least, that’s what he thinks is happening as he watches the scene unfold in front of him. You’re standing near the edge of the mansion's garden, laughing softly as the kid—Johnny, a younger teenage mutant—tries to hand you a bouquet of hastily picked flowers. His face is flushed, eyes wide with admiration, and he’s practically vibrating with nervous energy as he looks up at you.

This punk, this moron, this lovesick blockhead, has been glued to your side ever since you saved him during the last mission.

It was supposed to be a standard run-of-the-mill rescue operation, but when things went south, and he was cornered, you swooped in like the hero you are and got him out unscathed. Now, the kid’s been following you around like a lost puppy, trying to win your attention, your approval—your everything. And it’s infuriating.

Logan can feel his hands clench into fists as he watches Johnny offer you the worst attempt at a bouquet he's ever seen, and sees the youngster's face turning a deeper shade of red as he mumbles something the older man can’t quite hear. Probably some dumb compliment, he thinks bitterly. The kid’s got no game.

You smile at Johnny. It's that soft, kind smile that always makes Logan’s heart skip a beat. But this time, all it does is fuel the fire raging within. He knows that smile isn’t just for him, but damn it, he wishes it were.

He wishes you’d tell the kid to scram, that you’re already spoken for, that you have a lovely boyfriend who could put together a way better bunch of flowers, but instead, you take the flowers with a gentle laugh, thanking the goblin like he’s just handed you a priceless treasure.

And somehow, the torment is never ending, it seems. Because later in the day he find’s himself lurking at the doorway of the mansion library, watching as you and Johnny sit together, heads bent over some book he know knows the little gremlin is just pretending to be interested in. That brat is soaking up every second of your attention, hanging on your every word, and it’s driving Logan up the wall.

“He’s just a kid,” you keep saying whenever he grumbles about it, but you don’t see it. You don’t see the way the bastard’s eyes light up whenever you smile at him, or how he leans in just a little too close when you’re explaining something to him. You don’t notice the small touches—the way his hand lingers on your arm when he’s pulling you somewhere, the way he looks at you like you’re the centre of his universe.

Logan sees it all, because he’s been there before. He knows exactly what Johnny’s feeling because he felt the same way when he first met you. Still does. It's that intense, all-consuming crush that makes you do stupid things just to be near the person you can’t stop thinking about.

“Logan, you’re staring,” Jean’s voice cuts through his thoughts, and he turns to see her smirking at him from across the hallway.

“I’m not starin’. Just keepin’ an eye on things,” he mutters, crossing his arms over his chest defensively.

She raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “You’re jealous.”

He scowls at her. “I ain’t jealous of some kid.”

“Sure you’re not,” she says, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Why don’t you just talk to her about it?”

Clenching his jaw, he knows she’s right but not wanting to admit it. “She doesn’t get it. She thinks it’s cute.”

“Maybe if you told her how you’re feeling, she’d understand,” Jean suggests gently, though there’s a knowing look in her eyes.

Huffing and turning away from the library, Logan has decided that he’s had enough of standing on the sidelines. He needs to do something before he loses his mind entirely. But it seems he can’t escape this torture, because he can’t even get five minutes alone with you.

He tried to get your attention after you finished up teaching your class, but before he could, the little devil ran in front of him and got it first. His eye twitches as he watches Johnny offer you another “gift,” this time a poorly folded paper crane. You take it with a smile, thanking him kindly, and Logan grits his teeth so hard he swears his molars might shatter.

“Hey, kid,” He grumbles, stepping forward with a growl in his throat that would send most people running. “Don’t you got somewhere else to be?”

Johnny looks up, momentarily startled by the sharp tone, but then just gives a nervous chuckle and scratches the back of his head. “Uh, no, sir. I was just, um, hanging out with her.”

“Yeah, well, she’s got things to do. Don’t you, darlin’?” Logan’s eyes flicker to you, hoping you’ll catch the hint and send the kid on his way.

But you don’t. You just laugh. A musical sound that makes him want to clamp his hand over your mouth because why should that devil's spawn get to hear your beautiful voice? He’s truly about to lose it. 

“It’s fine, babe. Johnny’s just being sweet.”

Sweet. Logan wants to snort. Sweet is one word for it. Obnoxious, irritating, and clingy are a few others that come to mind.

“You got a crush or somethin’, boy?” His tone is laced with a dangerous edge as he crosses his arms over his chest, towering over the knucklehead. He’s trying not to outright scare him, but damn, he’s close to it.

Johnny turns beet red, stammering, “N-no, I just… she saved me, and I just wanted to say thank you, that’s all!”

Narrowing his eyes, a low snarl rumbles from his chest, and Logan takes a deliberate step forward, but before he can do more, you place a hand on his arm, pulling him back.

“Logan, that’s enough,” you say firmly, giving him a pointed look. 

Well, there goes another piece of his sanity.

You’re too kind, too understanding. You just don't get it. To you, it’s just an innocent crush, something harmless, something that makes you smile. You think it’s nothing, and that only makes his blood boil more.

“Fine,” he finally mutters, stepping back, though his eyes never leave the teenager’s. Johnny seems to take that as some kind of begrudging acceptance and gives you another shy smile before scurrying off, likely to find the next token of his gratitude to bring to you.

Once he’s gone, Logan lets out a heavy sigh, rubbing a hand over his face. “This is drivin’ me nuts, you know that?”

You just chuckle again, stepping closer to him and slipping your arms around his waist. “It’s just a phase, I’m sure. He’ll get over it.”

Wrapping his arms around you tightly and pulling you in close, he feels a little bit better in your embrace, but his eyes still track where Johnny disappeared into the mansion. “He better. ’Cause if he doesn’t, I might lose my damn mind.”

You tilt your head up, kissing his jaw softly. “You’re jealous, aren’t you?”

He huffs, not wanting to admit it, but the truth is written all over his face. “Maybe a little.”

Smiling, you lean up to kiss him properly. “You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

Logan kisses you back, a little more possessively than usual, as if to remind himself that you’re his. And even as you melt into him, he can’t help but keep one eye open, scanning the garden for any sign of that kid returning. He might be crazy, but he’ll be damned if he lets some lovestruck teenager get between him and the woman he loves.

—

The next morning, the mansion is buzzing with its usual activity. You and Logan head to the dining hall for breakfast, with him looking a little more relaxed after a night of holding you close. But the moment you step into the room, he spots a certain demon sitting at a table, eyes locked on you as if he’s been waiting for this very moment.

Groaning under his breath, Logan mutters, “Not again,” before guiding you to a table near the windows, hoping Johnny won’t follow.

You take your seat, smiling up at your boyfriend as he pulls out his chair, and for a brief second, he dares to believe that he might actually get to enjoy a quiet breakfast with you. But just as he’s about to sit down beside you, Johnny swoops in out of nowhere, plopping down in Logan’s seat with a grin like he’s just won the lottery.

“Morning!” He chirps, completely oblivious to the thunderous look on the other man’s face.

Freezing in his place, Logan glares at the kid who’s now sitting where he was supposed to be. He mentally cycles through a list of unflattering nicknames—Useless Idiot, Captain Obnoxious, Motherfu—but none of them seem quite strong enough to capture his current feelings. “You’re in my seat, kid.”

Johnny blinks up at him, feigning innocence. “Oh, uh, sorry. I didn’t see your name on it.”

You can practically see the self-control it takes for Logan not to pick the kid up and toss him across the room. His fingers twitch at his sides, his claws itching to come out, but he holds back. For your sake, and only your sake.

“Johnny,” you start, trying to keep your voice gentle but firm, “you do know he is my boyfriend, right? And even if he wasn’t, I’m a bit too, uh, old for you?”

The young mutant's eyes widen, and for a split second, you think you might have gotten through to him. But then he glances over at Logan, his face scrunching up like he’s just eaten something sour.

“Yeah, but he’s, like, hella old,” The idiot blurts out, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper as if the mutant standing right there can’t hear every word.

Logan’s expression darkens, a storm brewing in his eyes as his jaw tightens to the point where you can almost hear his teeth grinding. Hella old? Is this guy serious?

He's dealt with all kinds of enemies—mutants, monsters, government assassins—but nothing, nothing has tested his patience like this hellspawn has been. “What did you just say?” he growls menacingly.

Johnny, either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid, doesn’t back down. “I mean, no offense, but you’ve got a lot of… uh, experience, you know? And you’re like centuries old. Maybe she needs someone closer to her age.”

That’s the last straw. Logan’s eyes flash with anger and something else—something more vulnerable that you rarely see. A part of him knows the gremlin’s just talking out of his ass, but the words hit a little too close to home, stirring up old insecurities he usually keeps buried deep.

Without another word, he slams his hand down onto the table, the sound echoing through the dining hall like a gunshot. The room falls into stunned silence as he then storms out, his footsteps heavy and his anger radiating off of him in waves. He doesn’t look back, doesn’t acknowledge the whispers that follow in his wake. He just needs to get away before he does something he’ll regret.

“Logan, wait—” you call after him, but he’s already halfway out the door.

You turn back to Johnny, who’s now looking a little less confident and a lot more like he might have made a mistake. Sighing, you lean forward with a serious expression. “You can’t just say things like that. He’s not just my boyfriend. He’s the person I love.”

Looking down at the table, his face falls, and he begins fiddling with the napkin in his lap. “I didn’t mean to make him mad. I just thought—You saved me and I felt something…I thought maybe you’d feel something for me too.”

You soften, reaching out to pat his hand. “Johnny, you’re a sweet kid, but you’ve got to understand that Logan’s the one I’m with, and no one can replace him.”

He nods slowly, the reality of the situation finally sinking in. “I get it,” he mumbles. “I just…”

A small smile tugs at your lips. “You’ll find someone your own age who’s perfect for you. But for now, you need to give us some space, okay?”

Johnny nods again, this time more resolutely. “Okay. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright. Just… try not to instigate anything else. I’ll go talk to him.” You give him one last reassuring smile before heading toward the exit.

When you step out into the hallway, you barely have a second to process your thoughts and decide where to look before you’re suddenly pressed up against the wall. A gasp escapes your lips, but it’s quickly swallowed by Logan’s mouth on yours. The surprise melts away as the intensity of his kiss overtakes your senses, and you instinctively wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer.

His kiss is possessive and fierce. You can feel the frustration, the jealousy, the need to claim what’s his, pouring out of him with every movement of his lips against yours. For a moment, you lose yourself in the heat of it, letting the world around you fade as you focus solely on him.

Then, through the haze of the kiss, the practical part of your brain kicks in. You pull back just enough to murmur against his lips, “Logan… we’re gonna get caught.”

He growls softly, his lips trailing down to your jaw, his breath hot against your skin. “Let them see,” he mutters between kisses. “Maybe then that damn dunce will get the hint.”

You laugh softly, though the sound is cut off as he captures your lips again, his hands gripping your waist as if he’s afraid to let go. “Babe, really,” you whisper, trying to sound serious but failing as your body responds eagerly to his touch. “People are gonna see…”

“I don’t care,” he grumbles, his lips brushing against the sensitive spot just below your ear, making you involuntarily shiver against him. “Shoulda thrown that little shit out on his ass… let him know who you belong to.”

“You’re jealous of a teenager,” you tease, though the words come out breathless and almost lost in the intensity of the moment.

Logan pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark. “Don’t like him sniffin’ around you, thinkin’ he’s got a shot.”

You smile up at him, your fingers threading through his hair as you pull him back down for another kiss. “You don't need to feel threatened by him. You’re the only one I want.”

He huffs softly, his lips brushing against yours as he mutters, “Damn right I am.”

“C’mon,” you murmur, gently pushing against his chest. “Let’s go somewhere a little more private, huh?”

He hesitates for a moment, his eyes flickering back toward the dining hall, as if half-expecting Johnny to come barreling out any second. But then he nods, taking your hand and leading you down the hallway, away from prying eyes. His grip on your hand is tight, territorial, and you can’t help but smile as you follow him.

As you walk together, you give his hand a squeeze. “Logan?”

“Yeah?” He glances over at you, his expression softening slightly.

“I love you, you know that?” You say it with that pretty grin of yours, and the way his eyes warm in response makes your heart flutter.

“Yeah,” he replies, his voice quieter now, more sincere. “I love you too.”

The remaining tension melts away, leaving just the two of you walking hand in hand, ready to steal a few more precious moments together.

----

A/N: this was really fun to write!

[luvsupa]

a/n two posts in one day… ruh roh… (I miss gojo </3)

ex!satoru who doesn’t really understand the concept of being an ex. he just thinks you want a break from him. but permanently separated? hell no, he could never understand that.

“‘toru… things aren’t gonna work out between us,” you begin as he sits in front of you at your dinner table in your shared apartment. he looks at you with no emotion, as if you didn’t just end things. “we’re growing in separate ways, and i feel i would only—satoru.”

you could scream at him—he’s not paying attention, scrolling on his phone instead. he shows you the order he placed for dinner, coming in twenty minutes. of course, he bought your favorite.

“satoru, can you please be serious for one minute?” you huff, clearly annoyed that he’s not listening while he’s purchasing things he knows will make you swoon.

“i am serious,” he says, placing his phone down to observe your breathtaking features.

“you weren’t even listening,” you say, crossing your arms as you slouch in the seat.

“baby, of course i’m listening—you’re crazy if you think i’m leaving you,” he coos condescendingly, and you roll your eyes.

ex!satoru who, in fact, respected your decision and gave you your personal space, not exactly broken up in his eyes, just a temporary break.

ex!satoru who stays over at suguru’s place for a few months, whining every day and night about how he missed being in your arms.

“i miss her,” gojo says as he pets geto’s cat, miyu, while geto himself groans as he cleans his apartment.

“can you at least help out and stop whining like a bitch,” geto says, adjusting the pillows neatly on his couch. this only causes gojo to frown and embrace miyu in a tight hug, nuzzling his face in her soft fur as she tries to get away from his grasp.

“and let go of miyu, she doesn’t want you holding her.”

ex!satoru who continues to send you money, always sending you hundreds and hundreds of dollars for food, shopping, and especially paying for your necessities. he doesn’t care that you work for yourself—you’re still his baby, and he loves spoiling you. his money is your money.

unknown number sent $500! —go get some food, baby~ ♡

unknown number sent $600! —please unblock me on insta

unknown number sent $300! —i love u, mama

ex!satoru who chokes on his breakfast when shoko says you’re going on a date. gojo, never in his life, was speechless, and that really creeped out shoko and geto.

“satoru… are you good?” geto asks concernedly—even miyu jumps on gojo’s lap, sensing a difference in his character.

“yeah, i’m good…” he says calmly, placing down his utensils to pet miyu’s soft fur.

ex!satoru who does a little investigating of who this mysterious man is, finding his identity within ten minutes. he scoffs when he finds his social media—he’s nowhere near as handsome as he is. what do you see in him?

ex!satoru who sits comfortably in the luxurious restaurant where you and the mysterious man planned to go. little did you know, gojo texted the man, telling him that you’re married.

“aiko?” gojo hears a soft voice call as he turns to look at you. your eyes widen when you see gojo. this has to be some kind of joke—he is fucking crazy. you turn around, going back to the entrance, but gojo grabs your wrist.

“no, no, no, baby, please let me talk,” he pleads, and you fold from the way he calls you baby. oh, how you loved and missed the way he called you baby and claimed you as his own.

he guides you to the chair in front of him as he holds your hand, your pretty acrylics grazing his hands. he loved the way you looked well put together, his baby doll.

“my love, i promise to leave you,” he says, rubbing small circles on your hand. your heart pangs at his confession. “i just want to know how you’re doing.”

“i-i miss you so much,” you say. gojo feels like he’s hallucinating at what you just said. “shoko told me you were having a date today, and i felt so jealous—” you stammer, and gojo blinks multiple times, stunned at what you’re saying.

“this guy aiko asked me on a date, and i wanted to make you jealous,” you continue, frowning at being confused with your emotions. but gojo, on the other hand, is putting two and two together.

“give me your phone,” he sternly says. you stare at him in confusion, but you oblige, taking out your phone from your purse and handing it to him. gojo smiles as your lockscreen is still a baby photo of him. he unlocks your phone—the password still the same, his birthday.

“i was meaning to change the lockscreen,” you quickly state, not trying to look like a weirdo in front of him.

gojo goes into your contacts and clicks aiko’s contact information, calling the number. multiple rings go by, and the man on the other line picks up.

“hello—”

“shoko, i know this is you.”

you look at him and your phone in horror. shoko set you guys up by making a fake number to make you go on a date with ‘aiko’ but really you’d be with gojo.

“ahh, did my plan work? both of you kept whining about each other—it was infuriating. i had to do something,” she says on the other line, gojo clearly hearing geto’s giggles in the background.

“don’t ever do this again,” gojo says as he hangs up the phone. the two of you burst out in laughter, but for you, it’s more embarrassing that you were flirting with shoko through texts!

fiancé!satoru who proposed to you a few weeks later, he’s beyond happy to be in the arms of his baby again <3

[augustinewrites]

yesterday afternoon - after an unsuccessful coffee shop date - you’d decided that dating sucked. it was much too awkward and formal and not at all like it was in the movies, putting too much pressure on the people involved.

last night - after watching shoko flirt her way into free drinks - you’d been tipsy enough to take her advice. 

casual sex! it doesn't have to be with a stranger, just pick someone you know. someone you’re sure you won't fall in love with.

this morning you’d woken up to find gojo laying in bed next to you.

you lay shoulder to shoulder with the one person you should not have picked, staring up at the ceiling, waiting for the other person to speak. 

“did we really–” 

“three times,” satoru confirms happily, rolling onto his side to grin down at you. “i'm surprised we didn't do this sooner, really. our sexual tension has always been off the charts.”

when he leans in to kiss you, his lips meet your palm as your expression wrinkles. “don’t get familiar.”

“we’re naked together in bed– we slept together in more than the literal sense. can’t get more familiar than that.” 

“and this never happen again,” you promise, refusing to look at him. 

“why? because you’re afraid you’ll fall in love with me? it’s okay to admit it. i'm extremely lovable.” 

you’ve seen the way girls fawn over him. how they swoon over his pretty eyes and confident smile. he’s satoru gojo. a legend amongst jujutsu society. you’re no one in comparison, not a user of an otherworldly cursed technique, not from a major clan. 

people like him don’t fall for people like you. you’re afraid of rejection, afraid of being hurt. 

“we’re friends,” you tell him honestly. “i don’t want to risk ruining our friendship over something like this.” 

he tilts his head as your look at him. “shoko told you to try casual sex, didn't she? why not with me?”

“she told you?” you groan, dragging a hand down your face and making a mental note to never ask your roommate for advice for anything ever again. 

“hey, look at me,” he urges, grasping your hand. you do as he says, meeting his earnest gaze. “i can be casual and chill, it’s not like i have a huge crush on you or anything.” 

it’s so hard to say no to him. you really wish you could.  

“i’ll think about it,” you tell him, rolling your eyes when he fist pumps. “but you need to go home before shoko sees you.” 

but you’re dealing with satoru gojo, who almost never does what he’s told. “you’re not getting rid of me that easily. come here.”

he winds an arm around you, pulli my you in so you’re snug against his chest. explicit memories of last night flash through your mind, sending heat through your veins.

 “i can’t.” you tell him (though you’re mostly reminding yourself.) this is insane— satoru, what are you—”

you’re cut off when he shushes you, whispering let’s sleep in for a little while longer. 

he starts to drift off again as you struggle to escape his grasp, but your efforts are futile. even on the throes of sleep, satoru is stronger than you. 

so you give up, resigning yourself to a few more minutes of…cuddling. shoko isn’t a morning person anyways.

after a minute, you find it's not entirely awful. it’s a purely physical reaction. gojo is good looking, even with his hair mussed with sleep and his mouth hanging open. because you know that under the softness of his skin lays defined muscle, and spending the morning in his nicely toned arms isn’t the worst thing in the world. 

(it’s purely physical, is what your head tries to convince your heart, which is beating a little faster than usual.)

a very soft, content sigh slips past your lips. 

then, shoko knocks on your door. 

“hey! don’t tell me you’re too hungover for grocery shopping.” 

“shit!” you whisper harshly, shoving him away from you. “she cannot see you in here.” 

“afraid you’ll have to share?” he teases, narrowly avoiding being hit with a pillow. “okay, okay! where do you want me?”

“closet!” you instruct, scrambling my around the room to make sure none of his clothes are lying around. you thrust them into his hands, pushing him into your closet. 

he catches the door before you can close it, smiling down at you. “aren’t you glad we’re doing this?”

you shove him inside, slamming the door shut just ask shoko bursts into the room.

“hey,” you greet, trying your best to appear casual as you lean against the door. your heart beats in your throat, as she squints at you, then lets her gaze sweep across the room.

“did you bring someone home last night?”

“no.”

she looks at you. really looks at you, you think. 

“okay,” she finally says, though you can’t tell if she believes you. “i just– i thought i saw you leave with gojo. suguru said you two were flirting all night.”

“gojo and i?” you try to laugh, but it comes out a little strained. “never in a million years.”

shoko only shrugs, and you let yourself relax when she turns to leave…

…only for her to turn around once more, leaning the the doorframe. “well if you really don't like him, just let him down easy, alright? suguru told me he has a huge crush on you.” 

wait–

“gojo?”

you hear a sharp inhale through the door. 

“yeah,” she nods. “you really couldn't tell?”

gojo…has a crush on you. it takes a few seconds to truly sink in. “i had no idea.” 

“of course you didn't. he’s definitely got a really weird way of showing it.”

she turns to leave for real this time, but you wait a couple extra seconds before opening your closet, finding a wide eyed, blushing satoru staring at you. 

you can't help but laugh. at his expression, at shoko’s revelation, at this entire situation.

dating sucks, but maybe it won’t be that bad if it’s with him.

[ddejavvu]

would you be up to do bff remus with no boundaries?? i think that would be an interesting dynamic

maybe like after a full moon and she just like fully gives him a shower, or something where he’s just completely naked and the boys are so confused at what’s happening

"Arm up, Rem," You hum, but your fingers pry at his pale, scarred skin before he can even begin moving a muscle.

You lift his bicep away from his side, bringing the lathered loofa in your hand to swipe through the curve of his armpit. Suds slide down his sides and you hear him hiss as they mingle with his still-healing cuts and scrapes, but there's nothing to be done except cleaning them before they can be dressed.

"Easy, easy," You rub a hand over his back in a soothing circle that carefully avoids his injuries, "Just gotta get 'em clean, then we can dress them. You can sleep on your stomach, that'll help the ones on your back. How'd you even get scratches on your back?"

"It's all the ladies I occupy my time with," Remus drawls, but his pain is evident in the weakness of his voice, "Women love werewolves."

When you don't answer, leaving an purposefully awkward silence behind that swirls with the steam from the shower, Remus sighs, "Got all scratched up from the tree branches out there."

You drag the loofa from his side to his back, carefully ghosting over the caked dirt around his wounds. His knuckles turn white as he clenches his fists, but when he tries drawing one into his mouth to bite at it you take it in your own free hand.

"No biting. That's reserved for your better half."

"Are you talking about Sirius, or the wolf? Sirius bites me," Remus grumbles, and- speak of the devil, there's feet pounding obnoxiously up the stairs and towards the dorms.

"Moony, we've got all the chocolate we could carry," Sirius informs him, and there's the sound of wrapped goods being piled on Remus's comforter before James and Sirius step into the doorway of the bathroom.

James lets out an 'ooh' and turns away with a grimace when he sees you kneeled beside Remus's naked form beneath the spray of water, but Sirius stands stock-still, frozen by some mix of intrigue and horror.

"Uh, are we interrupting something?"

"Just a bath," You smile kindly at them, scrubbing gently at Remus's neck, "He has trouble getting his back sometimes."

"Sometimes- have you two done this before?"

"After every moon." You nod helpfully when Remus merely ducks his head to rest between his knees, "You two are usually either asleep or trying to get grass out of your pelts."

There's something green in Sirius's hair that proves the two were unsuccessful this time around.

"Oh. I'm sorry, Moony, I didn't know you had a caregiver," Sirius snickers, "Does she help you put your panties on too?"

"Don't let him get to you, dove," Remus murmurs, his eyes slipping shut as the warm water seeps into his skin and heals an ancient ache in his bones, "He's just mad he'll never get to take yours off. They're a real pretty pattern, y'know," Remus glances up at Sirius with the ghost of a smirk on his face, muffled by pain but persistent all the same, "Shame she's not interested in showing 'em to you."

"You've seen her panties, mate?" James cuts in, peering over Sirius's shoulder, "What are you two?"

"Friends," You shrug, "But it's stuffy in here at night, and my sleeping pants get too warm."

"You're telling me all the times you two have slept over in here all snuggled up in his bed, that you've not had any pants on?"

"Well I don't make it a habit to strip in his bed," You scoff, scrubbing at a particularly stubborn grass stain on the pale plane of his hip, "But I can promise you that my pants are never gonna be on your floor, either one of you."

"Oh please, we wouldn't dream of stealing Moony's girl," Sirius claps James on the shoulder, "But whaddya think about that, mate? Strippin' down to cuddle in bed together? They seem to think it's a friendly endeavor."

"I typically only ditch my pants for Lily, Padfoot," James informs Sirius with a sympathetic smile, "But I'll ask her if I can bring my dog to her dorm tomorrow night. You can sleep at our feet."

Sirius begins valiantly arguing for a spot higher up on the bed, every dog's hardest battle to fight, but you're no longer interested in their antics or the noise they're producing. You reach out your foot to kick at the door, and it swings shut with a satisfying click.

"Thanks, love." Remus groans, his face squished between his knees, "They were givin' me a headache."

"They always give you a headache," You dig your thumbs into a tense spot on his back and he twitches beneath you with a hum of appreciation, "We should get a flat together without them. They can be the feral deer and dog that live outside our cottage."

"We'll have to call animal control" Remus grins wryly against the rounded bend of his knee as you lean forwards to wash beneath his thighs, "How strong are their strongest tranquilizer darts?"