#but he wouldn't have a screwdriver

[pelicanoctopus]

I would say this was my dad but my dad could never get a smartphone to work for long enough to take a video like this, much less upload it anywhere

going to work 😌

[whoviandoodler]

me confidently walking over to the door handle to take it apart so i could change the faulty mechanism and finally be able to close the door properly again, thinking 'how hard could it be? it's just six screws?':

[ID: a stock photo of a person in a shirt and a small red cape making a confident pose. End ID]

ten years worth of paint over the outer part of the mechanism literally gluing the thing to the old and fragile wood of the door, making what should be a couple minutes into two hours of painstaking work:

[ID: a picture of godzilla roaring. End ID]

[callsign-swan]

Alone Together

For the last few years, Tony's daughter has been living out in the tower basement. She doesn't realise when Valentina buys the tower, not until she's being choked out by Sentry (turns out Sentry is a really sweet guy called Bob, who knew?)

Warnings: Slight thunderbolts spoilers

The last few years had been... content.

Everybody thought she disappeared, off the grid once her dad died. Some people tried to look; Happy, Pepper, some guy she was sure she knew but couldn't remember.

They didn't find her, she made sure of that. Wiped her name from every record, lived off of the small fortune her father had left her.

She wasn't a great engineer like her father, didn't spend her time making useful stuff like he did. She still made stuff, it just wasn't useful.

Spare parts, the basement was full of them. Scraps her father disregarded, that he didn't need. She was desperately trying to turn the scraps into something useful, but it wasn’t that easy.

So far, she'd built a computer. Well, she more rebuilt an old computer and used scrap metal to hide the wires. It was one of her proudest accomplishments.

Nobody knew she was in the basement. But it didn’t matter, since the old Avengers Tower had been vacant. If someone bought, she would have known.

(No, she didn't know that the tower had been bought. She didn't know that Valentina was moving in).

All of her details were still in the tower system; it was easy enough to hack into the intercom. She didn't do much with it, isolated it to the basement to play her music while she worked.

It was hard, trying to live up to greatness. It was even harder knowing you'll never be able to achieve it.

Rarely did she travel to other floors. If she did, she would have known about Valentina. If she did, she would have been arrested on the spot.

No daddy to bail her out this time. And Pepper wouldn't bother, she thought.

Maybe if she knew, she would have stayed in the basement, gathered up her things and moved out. She wouldn't have gotten in the elevator to get parts out of the floor. Parts her dad used to make machines to take off the Iron Man suite the second he stepped into the building.

Stepping into the elevator with an empty box in her hand and a screwdriver in her pocket, she pressed the necessary button. The doors slid closed and she began travelling up.

So many floors, but it took no time at all. That was her dad's doing. This entire place was her dad's doing. (Maybe that's why she couldn't leave it behind).

The elevator doors should have slid open to reveal nothing. An empty floor, exactly how the Avengers had left it. The bar her dad left nearly fully stocked before they moved to the compound.

But that wasn't the sight that greeted her.

People in the tower. There shouldn't have been people in the tower. Oh, she had fucked up.

They were mid fight, that much was obvious. The blonde guy in the ridiculous suit held Bucky's fist in his hand like he wasn't fighting a super soldier with a vibranium arm.

But the fight had stopped as everybody in the room stared at her. Goldilocks, discount Steve Rogers, blonde bombshell, soviet santa, mystery person and Bucky.

"You've got to be kidding me."

It was Bucky that said it, pulling his fist out of Goldilock's grip. In the moment of confusion, Goldilocks let him go, his gaze on her.

She resisted the urge to step back into the elevator. "I..." But she couldn't find the words. "What're you doing in my house?"

"Your house?"

She hadn't noticed the woman until now. Dark hair, grey in the front so pretty that it looked silver. Definitely dyed, but it looked good.

"I don't know who the hell you think you are, but I bought this property and you are trespassing."

Her eyes went wide, grip on her empty cardboard box growing tighter. "Oh," she said, the air in the room becoming uncomfortable. But then she furrowed her brows. "Really? Because I've been living here for a while."

The woman's mouth dropped open. "How long- You know what? I don't care." She snapped her fingers. "Sentry."

Suddenly, she was moving through the air. Not of her own volition, she had no sort of power. In less than seconds, she was in front of Goldilocks, his fingers wrapping around her neck.

In her struggle, she gripped his wrist, tried to get out of his grip. But he was impossibly, terrifyingly strong.

There was something in his blue gaze that was soft. Suddenly, he let go of her. Her feet hit the floor and he stepped away from her. "Sorry, I... you don't deserve this," he mumbled.

Her hand found her own neck. He didn't have her in a strong grip, but it still hurt so damn much.

But she couldn't stop staring at him. Sentry. She had no doubt he had the potential to look terrifying, but he didn't in that moment. Regret shined in his blue eyes.

A hand grabbed her, pulling her back. She, along with Bucky, Discount Steve Rogers, Mystery Person, Blonde Bombshell, and Soviet Santa, ran towards the elevator.

They squeezed in and travelled down.

"What the fuck?" Bucky called as he pulled her out of the building. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

She pulled her hand out of Bucky's grip. "I've been living here, Barnes," she called back, shoving her hands into her pockets. The screwdriver still sat there, the cardboard box back in the tower.

"Why aren't you with Pepper?"

A scoff left her lips, sounding more like a child than the adult she actually was. But that was one of the reasons she was in the tower in the first place, because she was sick of everyone treating her like a kid.

She released a breath and looked back towards the tower. "What the hell was that?" She asked, completely changing the subject.

Bucky let her. He didn't have it in himself to argue. But he wasn't going to answer her.

"That was Bob," came a new voice.

Her eyebrows went up. "Bob?"

"Bob."

She swallowed thickly. "What the hell is Bob?"

***

The New Avengers.

The name had her stomach rolling. The world didn't need the Avengers, did it? The only reason they'd needed the New Avengers was Valentina's own doing.

But here they were, in the Avengers - no - Watchtower. Bucky let her stay. He gave her conditions to her stay, but he didn't kick her out, didn't drag her kicking and screaming back to Pepper.

As long as she pulled her weight. As long as she worked, did the necessary repairs when they were needed. Sure, she was nothing like her father, but she had her own skills.

Bob was just Bob. Hair now brown, soft sweaters, books. No more blonde hair, no more shadow monster man (yes, she knew Sentry is more than that, but that was her way of referring to it. That was of referring to it sometimes pulled a smile from Bob).

No super soldier serum, no specialised training, no... whatever Ava was. Sure, he had incredibly strong powers, but they were safely tucked away and Bob was happy.

The two didn't immediately find themselves drawn to each other. She was curious, sure, but Bob didn't remember. He didn't have the answers for her.

But they found themselves left behind during missions. There was nothing wrong with that - how were they supposed to help the team?

The first few times, they kept to themselves. She didn't mind the isolation, that was how she lives when the tower was empty. But she watched Bob. Just what he was doing, how he entertained himself. His life had been full of tragedy, just like hers had been. Individual tragedies, but it made her curious about him.

On the teams third mission, their third time alone in the Watchtower together, she sat beside Bob.

"Whatcha reading?" She asked as she toed off her shoes and tucked her legs beneath her body.

Bob showed her the cover of his book, his finger slipped between the pages.

She patted her thighs, her fingers drumming against her skin. "Is it good?" She asked and Bob gave a nod.

Bob was a quiet guy. She'd learnt this through their limited interactions. But he wasn't usually this quiet. He at least had an answer for her.

So, she kept talking.

"You know, I lived here as a kid," she mumbled, laying back. Everything was different now it was the Watchtower. The bar her father so lovingly put in place was gone (but that was definitely a good thing).

Bob closed his book. "You're Tony Starks kid, right?" Her asked, one leg folded beneath the other, the other hanging off the edge of the sofa.

She gave a nod. "Yeah, grew up around the first round of Avengers," she mumbled.

Turning his head slightly, Bob let his hand rest in his wrist. He'd had a haircut since everything happened, him and Yelena in the bathroom with a pair of scissors. His hair was still a little bit wild, but it suited him.

"Why'd you live in the basement?"

Not the question she was expecting, but she didn't shy away from it. "Spent a lot of time in there as a kid," she answered. "Just felt right being in there."

It was more than that, clearly more than that, but Bob didn't pry.

He stood up. "Hungry?" He asked, watching as her eyebrows went up.

"You cook?" She couldn't help but ask.

Bob went to nod, but he stopped himself. "How hard can it be?" He tried, releasing a breath that suggested he didn't think it was going to be very easy at all.

She pushed herself up from the sofa. "I'll help," she said and went to follow him into the kitchen.

But Bob didn't move. "You cook?" He parroted.

A grin came across her face. "How hard can it be?"

Turns out, pretty fucking hard. Neither of them knew what they were cooking, and that was the first issue. The both of them were just pulling things out of the fridge and trying to decide what to do with it.

Chicken in a pan (plain and neither of them quite knew how to flavour it), spaghetti in boiling water (neither of them knew what to do for sauce), and a garlic bread pizza in the oven (the only promising part of the meal).

Bob pulled salt from the cupboard and seasoned the spaghetti.

"Fuck," she suddenly cried, fridge door open.

Bob raised his head, eyes wide as he looked at her. "What?" He asked, panicking slightly.

"This is John's boring chicken," she said, pushing the fridge door shut. Like she could hide the evidence if she just shut the fridge door.

"Shit," Bob replied as he turned it in the pan (one side finally looked cooked, but both of them knew not to trust it. Just a few more minutes and they'd check the inside).

"He's gonna kill us."

Bob nodded. "We're gonna die."

But then, they laughed. "If John really does try and kill us, you gotta protect me, okay?" She muttered, stirring the spaghetti in the boiling water. "All I got is this." She pulled the screwdriver from her pocket. She was never seen without it now.

"I'll protect you," he assured her, "I'll keep you safe."

Fear of John Walker was a great foundation for a friendship, as it turned out.

part one maybe?

[xan-izme]

Dubble Life 14 (Batfam x reader x ACTSV)

Summary: No matter how much you think you know yourself, you seem to still not understand why you do the things you do.

Part 13, Part 15

When you wake up, things felt, more tense. Bruce was stricter on not letting you out on certain hours. Even Alfred wouldn't let you slip out the door without him coming along. Dick clung onto you, kept trying to do everything for you till he had to go back to Bludhaven. Damian was weirdly distant. Not cold, just Distant. Tim seemed take over what Dick was doing to you, just a lot less clingy. Helping you more than usual, even when he was clearly tired.

And Jason?

He was pushing your damn buttons.

"You should stop."

"Huh?"

You stare at the older man with confusion. You two stood in an abandoned building. You were in a spider suit that was darker to blend within the dark. Jason had just taken care of a few thugs just as you finished throwing an anomaly into a portal to the Spider Society HQ.

"This thing with Alchemax, I can handle the fighting, and you can-"

"Whatever bullshit your trying to say. Spit it out. Don't beat around the bush." You cut Jason off, you didn't have to take your mask off for Jason to know you were getting pissed off already.

". . . It's getting dangerous."

The moment Jason said those words you immediately throw your hands in the air while letting out a scoff of disbelief.

"You gotta be kidding me. Are you serious right now?"

"Just hear me out God damn it!" Jason wasn't going to let you just brush him off anymore.

"Joker, Scarecrow and all those other psychos are out now. Trust me when I say your screwed if you run into any of them, doesn't matter if you're meta."

You had your back faced to Jason. Clearly frustrated and upset of this topic. Jason lets out a sigh and shook his head. Before speaking a little more softly

"Come on kid, you haven't even talked about what happened with the fear gas."

". . . That doesn't matter-"

"Yes, it does! Whatever is going on up there-" Jason points to his head; "Will affect your insect ass out here."

". . . Spiders aren't insects."

"Oh, for fucks sakes You know what I mean!" Jason lets out a frustrated sigh.

"Just wait till those psychos are put back in Arkham. . . Please?" Jason walks closer to you. But you walked to an open window to jump out. Before doing so you spoke one last time.

"Fine."

Jason felt slightly relived once you agreed, watching you jump out of the window and swing up to a building.

Miles was working on a new invention, the upbeat music you put on faintly in the background. Miles puts a screwdriver in his mouth as he uses both hands to connect the wires on his invention. But he pauses as he felt a pair of eyes on him. He slowly turns his head to see you on his bed, a book in hand, just staring at him with a small smile.

"What?" He gave you a look of confusion. Your brow quirks up at his confrontation "Hm?"

"You're staring at me with that creepy smile of yours." Miles takes the screwdriver out of his mouth and waves it around as he spoke. You gave a fake offended gasp.

"Exuuusse me??" Your hand now on your chest, exaggerating the feeling of offence. You expected some form of amusement from Miles, but his mind seemed to be elsewhere

You tilt your head "Hey, space boy, what's got you so distracted, I come here to spend time with you and you're not even yapping about your usual nerdy stuff." You spoke in a joking manner, but there was a hint of concern.

Miles stayed silent for a moment. Your playful demeanor falters as you see that he's bothered about something. But he doesn't want to talk about it. But you know it was about you.

You sighed as you scoot closer to the edge of the bed where Miles sat.

"Your upset." You nudged his shoulder with your own. His silence only confirms your suspicion. After a few moments Miles finally spoke up.

"Me and Uncle Aaron found out who was responsible for the explosion at the bridge. The one that got your mother killed. . ."

You paused at the last sentance.

"Oh . . ."

"It was Kingpin."

You hum and nod. "I see. . . he's in prison right now, right? He won't hurt anyone else for a long awhile." You rub his shoulder to reassure him. But this only angered him.

"Why are you so calm!?" He brushed your hand off and let out a huff of annoyance as he stood up from the bed with his back faced to you. Your brows furrowed at his sudden burst of anger.

"Miles-"

"It doesn't matter that he's in jail now. He's going to get out. He has the money, Has the connections. No matter what we do they always come back and they hurt more people!" His frustration on the situation felt, familiar. You had the same feeling once.

"Miles. . ."

He ignores your first warning he goes on. "What's the use of fighting crime when they just end up killing more people!? Why- why can't we kill people like Kingpin!?"

"Miles Gonzalo Morales! ¡Ya es suficiente de ti!" Your stern voice almost booming. Silence falls upon the room. Miles, still upset spoke again.

"He killed your mother."

You were not having his attitude today.

"Do not use her death as an excuse! you know killing has been and never will be an option for us. It makes us no better than them."

Both of you were angry. Angry at each other, at the world. Just two angry teens in a room.

The disagreement with Miles dragged. The two of you didn't speak to each other for a few days, and you were agitated to get back out on patrol feeling Alchemax is up to something and the longer you wait the worse things will get.

You were able to slip away from a nagging Alfred. You made it past a very sleep deprived Tim who usually , once you made it through the doors of the manor you were met with a surprising view of Ms. Dean walking up the stairs to the doors.

"Mrs. Dean! What are you doing here?" Your brow quirked up in confusion and a little curious. "Aw, do you miss me? we just had a session two days ago." You spoke in a joking tone, but Mrs. Dean was not amused.

"I'm actually here to, discuses a few more things with you."

You sighed, you walked up closer to the older woman, circling her.

"And I'm assuming Bruce is making you do house calls now?" Your tone uninterested on whatever Bruce is trying to get out from you. Whatever it is. You must admit, the man is more insistent than you imagined.

"Actually, I'm here on my own accorded. I was hoping we could talk, off the records of course."

Mrs. Deans words caused you to gain interest.

"Seriously?" You gave the woman a look of surprise mixed with suspicion. Mrs. Dean nods "Seriously."

You don't sense any interior motive. At the moment. So, you agreed. The two of you going into Gotham city and stopped at a bat-burger place.

Mrs. Dean watched you with a blank expression as you devoured your burger.

"Mmm, these are, okay. I honestly like the burgers back in New York." You say this while your tray is literally empty.

"So, what did you want to chat about. My childhood? any daddy issues you assume I have? oh oh! trust issues. Yes, I remember you said that was one of my problems, no?" You of course were acting sort of passive aggressive; you have just been so frustrated with the recent events that it was getting harder to be or even act positive.

And Ms. Dean saw this, her own daughters show this sort of attitude when keeping in their anger for too long.

"Actually, I just wanted to see how you were doing."

You gave the older woman a look of confusion and slight suspicion.

"Ms. Dean-"

"Please, call me Alice." Ms. Dean- Alice insisted.

You stayed silent for a moment before letting out a small scoff of amusement. "Alright, Alice. Is this something you normally do with your clients? or am I just, special."

"Just think of this as a friendly meet up."

You almost scoffed

"Come on, Alice. What is this really about?"

Alice inhaled deeply. Seeming to almost bracing herself before speaking.

"I just- I don't understand why you didn't confront me about the camera. You knew the whole time. Yet, you didn't say anything for weeks." The older woman was clearly stressed on this topic. Which made you smirk in amusement as you just shrugged.

"You're the therapist, you tell me."

Alice's eyes narrowed, sighing as she leans into her seat.

"You weren't completely lying in our sessions. . . You told the truth. Half of the time. You're like an open book, but in a whole different, complex language." Alice glanced up to see your invested into this conversation. Curiosity in your eyes as you leaned into the table that kept the distance between you two.

"And because of that, you assume no one will take the time to truly understand you. But when someone actually does take the time to try and understand you. You panic. And you change yourself to . . ." Alice stops. She doesn't stop because she came to an understanding of something. Quite the opposite. She doesn't know why you do it.

You sighed, slightly disappointed. "You almost nailed it. Your pretty scary actually, haha!" You laughed.

". . . I'm scared. I change myself because I'm scared." Your cocky facade fades, just a little. Still present but fades enough to shock Alice to an extent.

"Why?"

"Donno. . . was kinda hoping you'd figure that out for me."

Silence falls between you two. One thing is for sure, your not paying for the food.

---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---___----___---___

A/n: This is really short, but you all deserve at least SOMETHING! So here yall go❤️

@huening-ly,@mariadvorak, @superherosdystopiafreak, @chelluv, @houseissofine, @esposadomd, @greyeyedmockingbird, @1-800-daisy, @c0c0-puffsxxx @arthurswife, @h0rr0r-10ver-69, @josiepapen, @natashanice165, @amber-content, @mahbeanz @azurewisteria, @seraph101, @skepvids, @lara20aral, @iwasveronica, @jackrabbitem, @nickey-diano, @idonthaveanameforthisacc, @sekidekiboombeki, @masters-blog, @lulpeepkins, @sgarrush-blush, @redsakura101, @danart501, @definitely-not-sammie, @khaleesihavilliard, @reallynotsoconfident, @uknowimdumb, @bat1212

[beezelbubbles]

Okay so. A very large part of my husband's job is building platforms meant to support the weight of multiple actors at a time, sometimes while dancing and jumping around. So he built this bed https://www.ana-white.com/woodworking-projects/camp-loft-bed-stair-junior-height for our kiddo. So we're already ahead in that husband has all the skills needed. But this isn't like *the* most complex, it's just there are little things that make it easier going. I filled a shopping cart from Home Depot with this supplies list, plus the stuff they assume you've got like wood filler, tools, slats for the mattress to rest on, level, carpenter's square, etc. I went Ryobi for the circular saw and drill/driver. This kind of job is incredibly frustrating if your power tools don't have some power to them. One thing I didn't put in was saw horses for the saw. So that adds a bit, or you can get a small table saw, which also adds a bit. I added a little power sander because you do not want to be hand sanding all of this, but also if you don't sand it, you get splinters. All told it was 315 pre-taxes. This also assumes you have a way to get the wood where you want it. And have space to do all the construction. It was about a day's work to build, and then paint took a while to dry. Husband's only assistant was the 8 year-old, but he builds whole theatre sets on his own, so I recommend someone a little more experienced for an assistant. (Also kiddo has been learning power tools and theatre bits since they were about 5.) All of that and it was still pretty basic. And only a twin sized bed. Bigger will be more expensive and a bigger pain the ass to build.

But the real kicker is that in the end you only have a bed frame. I have to find a mattress that can accommodate my weight. And since I can't live my life in bed, I need to build my dining chairs. I need to figure out a couch. (I helped build one in jr high, but that was ages ago.) Most office chairs have an upper rating of 150. Higher than that and they start getting real pricey real fast. I do not even begin to know how to build an office chair. I should not need to become an artisanal furniture maker just so I can exist. (Or you know, marry a furniture maker.)

And I know we've been talking about homes here, but fat people do go out in public. Chairs with arms? Even if it can hold my weight, it doesn't matter if the arms aren't wide enough for my hips. There is some kind of irony that as the fat population grow the world seems to be increasingly hostile to us.

Here's something that a lot of thin people don't know about being fat: you have to be very careful, these days, what the weight limit on your furniture is. So much is made of particleboard or even cardboard or flimsy plastic, and it may be great for the environment for things to be made of recycled materials, but it can easily leave fat people in the incredibly humiliating situation of breaking a chair by sitting on it, or a table by leaning on it. It also creates an effective "fat tax" on furniture, since the more solid materials tend to cost more.

When I was looking for loft beds to make my apartment effectively larger, the majority of them had a weight limit of 200 pounds, including the weight of the mattress. That puts a weight limit on the person of roughly 150 pounds, and that presumes a light mattress. That's not taking into account blankets, pillows, and stuffies, which can easily rack up a weight of around ten to twenty pounds without much trouble, bringing the safe weight for a person down to roughly 140 to 130 pounds. The ones that held more than that had a steep increase in price, with ones that held 300 pounds costing roughly 600$ more than the 200 pound ones, and the 400 pound ones, which I wanted for tolerances, ran a good 800$ more on average than the ones for 200 pounds.

More generally, solid wood, metal, tempered glass, and thick, durable plastic cost more than particleboard, cardboard, and flimsy plastic. They are also far more likely to be safe for fat people to use.

If you are a thin person and want fat people to be comfortable when visiting you, invest in furniture that is clearly made with sturdy materials. Having to brush off standing the whole visit is embarrassing both for us and, if you are a host who cares about the comfort of guests, for you.

[fredswrite]

A/N: This was supposed to be longer than that, but oh well, I love my cute emo boy even if it’s short.

SUMMARY: Your punk neighbour finally has the guts to ask you out on a date. bubbly!reader x sam!monroe

WC: ~ 900

No warning <33

MLST

KIND OF A DATE

The summer air was thick with the smell of salt and cut grass, and somewhere down the street, someone was playing Bad Religion too loud through a screen door. You were skipping across the Monroe driveway like it was your personal stage, lemonade sloshing dangerously in a plastic cup, the ice clinking with each step. Your voice dances through the air as you speak about your latest theory of clouds having secret lives.

"You see that one? It looks like a squirrel in downward dog. Don't lie, you see it too!"

Sam Monroe, half-shadowed on the porch in his navy jeans and an old Misfits t-shirt, didn’t answer. He's crouched over a warped board with a screwdriver in hand, pretending to be very invested in home repair, that his dad wanted him to join in. His black nails were chipped. His piercings caught the light. He hadn’t looked up once.

But you knew better.

You've caught him watching you more than once, usually when you're not supposed to notice. At first, he was all eye rolls and silent groans whenever you came over. Now, he just kind of... existed in your orbit, like a moody little planet circling your sunshine.

You hopped up the steps and sat beside him with a huff. "You know," you started, sipping your lemonade, "you're the most interesting person I've ever met who hasn't smiled at me even once."

His shoulders tensed. He glanced sideways at you, long enough to give a noncommittal shrug, before returning to the board.

"I smile," he muttered, and you swear it's the first thing he's said to you all week.

"Prove it."

His lips twitched. Barely. A phantom smile. But you could see it.

"Oh my god," you gasped, "was that it? That was like... a micro-smile. A mini. A smol."

He rolled his eyes, but his ears turned pink, which you considered a victory. He pushed his bangs out of his face, fingers smudged with sweat and dust, and kept his gaze glued to the screwdriver like it's more dangerous than you.

You leaned back on your elbows and tilted your head toward the sky. "You're like one of those cats that acts like it hates everyone but then starts sleeping on your pillow. Slowly. Stealthily."

He exhaled through his nose. "Do you ever stop talking?" He finally sat up, looking at you.

"Nope," you chirped. "It's one of my top five skills. Right after making bracelets, eating popsicles too fast, and finding four-leaf clovers like, weirdly often."

He gave a tiny huff—almost a laugh—and you know he's cracked. He just doesn't know it yet.

There's a pause. You sipped your lemonade. He pretended not to look at your knees tucked under you, the rainbow anklet you were wearing, the little sticker on your shoulder you forgot was there.

Then he cleared his throat. "So... there's this thing."

You blinked at him. "A thing?"

"Yeah. At the lake. On Friday." He fidgeted with the screwdriver, thumbs the worn edge of his jeans. "They do fireworks. And funnel cake.

You smiled slowly, watching the way he wouldn't quite meet your eyes.

"I was wondering if you... Maybe wanna go. With me. Just us."

It came out rushed, like he was afraid that if he said it too slowly, he would chicken out halfway through.

You blinked. Then you beam. "Duh. I've only been waiting for you to ask me out since you glared at me in your hoodie like a sad little vampire."

He let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. His ears were bright red now.

You reached over and gently bumped your shoulder into his. "Took you long enough, Monroe."

He shrugged, lips quirking in that way that might became a real smile if you kept poking at it. "You're just... a lot."

"You mean awesome?"

"I mean loud."

You grin. "You love it."

He didn't deny it.

Friday came. You were wearing glitter on your cheeks and a skirt that twirled when you spun. Sam showed up in all black, of course, but he had a bracelet on—one of yours, braided with bright thread and a plastic skull bead in the middle.

At the lake, he was quieter than usual, but you filled the space between with your laughter, with questions he pretended to hate answering but secretly liked. When the fireworks start, you don't ask, you just take his hand.

He stiffened, then relaxed like it was the most natural thing in the world. Your fingers were sticky from the powdered sugar of the cake. His thumb brushed your knuckle softly.

"You're not gonna write a poem about this, are you?" he muttered, watching the sky explode in color.

"I might," you teased. "Something like: 'Black hoodie, black heart, but oh, those hands. Sticky with love."

He groaned.

You lean your head on his shoulder. "Shut up. You're smiling again."

"I'm not."

"You are. Just accept that you like me. It's inevitable."

And this time, he didn’t argue. He just squeezed your hand tighter as the sky lit up, and for once, he didn’t feel the need to hide behind silence or sarcasm.

With you, being seen didn’t feel so scary.

[leurdhavemerky]

Only in His Dreams (Part 2/2)

Part 1 here

Remembering his intimate dream, Viktor has a particularly difficult time when you visit him at work.

Contents: Academy/scientist gn!reader, romantic tension, flirting, lovesick Viktor, Jayce catching a stray

Word count: 800

Viktor was adjusting his Hexclaw, holding a magnifying glass to an irritatingly small screw. He picked up his blue-handled flathead and prepared to tighten it, but there were footsteps coming down the narrow hall.

Had it been anyone else, Viktor wouldn't have cared. It was the familiar sound of your platform shoes that immediately caught his attention.

Louder and closer, louder and closer, louder and- ah!

Viktor dropped his tools. They clattered against the table. His screwdriver rolled along the surface.

Your footsteps stopped as you reached the closed lab doors.

One knock.

His eyes shot down to his chest as he hastily straightened his maroon tie.

Two knocks.

He ran a hand through his messy hair, trying to fix it quick.

Three knocks.

Deep breath. Exhale. Stand up.

"Welcome, allow me to get the door."

Viktor took a short journey to the entrance of the lab. He nervously reached for the gold-plated door handle and stood back as you stepped in.

Your eyes moved along the room, making observations.

There was a large window with the geometric academy motif on the right wall, and numerous chalkboards and supply cabinets on the left. A controlled mess of gears littered the central table, with Viktor's half-deconstructed Hexclaw lying on it's side.

Finally, you acknowledged him with a warm smile, excited about your work-related excuse for being in the academy's most esteemed space.

"Thanks, that was kind."

You met Viktor's amber eyes, and he lingered there. He looked lost.

"Am I...interrupting your work?"

He remembered the pink haze, the joy fading as he stirred awake. Viktor blinked. This is real now, he thought. I must do something about it.

"Nonsense. What brings you to me?" he asks, shifting his gaze. The heat in his face would have burned him alive if he hadn't done that.

"My department is interested in using Hextools for a 'productivity boost.' The council said we'd need signed documents, though."

"I am surprised I was recommended for this. Shouldn't Jayce provide his signature?"

You bit the inside of your cheek.

"I figured," you chose words carefully, "but he isn't in the lab much, at least from what I've picked up on."

Viktor shifted his weight.

"Besides," you shrugged, "you're very approachable."

He nodded appreciatively, beginning to guide you across the lab. His pace was intentionally a little slower, as he hoped you would admire his gadgets.

Along the back wall were two desks, one covered in grand vases of flowers, among other gifts and congratulatory letters. The second was "decorated" with open notes and silvery tools.

The aftermath of Progress Day.

Viktor's grip tightened on his cane. You glanced at the colorful arrangements a few feet away, playfully rolling your eyes to ease the tension.

He gave a knowing look, and one side of his mouth came up into an easy smile.

Viktor pulled the chair from Jayce's desk and brought it close to his own.

"Have a seat, right beside my lovely trinkets," he teased, gesturing to scattered parts.

"Lovely trinkets," you reciprocated, studying the grooves of various coppery cogs.

Oh, that voice. What I would do to hear your song once again.

"Now, what papers do you have for me?"

You presented Viktor with four pages, and he reached for a pen. It was constructed beautifully, black with gold accents.

Skimming through the introductory paragraphs, he recognized these documents as standard Academy approval forms. Nothing out of the ordinary, besides the individual before him.

...sanction the use of the following...acknowledge that...safe for the use of employees...

He could feel you looking as he read. His head felt lighter by the second.

..in the event that...incredibly nervous- no, no! Keep reading!...trained to handle...tools of interest...I understand these terms and- finally!

Relieved, he twisted that pretty pen open.

"Should I know anything more?"

You shook your head.

With that, he copied his signature on the necessary pages. The beginning of the V curved, with it's main dip cutting fiercely. The other letters were inscribed with more care. For example, the dot embellishing his i formed a near perfect circle on each page.

"Unfortunate," you state, "that I don't have any other business for you."

Viktor slipped the pen into the shirt-pocket of his white vest.

He took a soft breath and asked, "why do you say that?"

"I'm curious about these inventions," you replied, turning to the open claw and the contraptions surrounding it.

Your eyes fell on him. He was close to burning again.

"Not to mention- I'm curious about the inventor."

With that statement, you had lit a sparkler from the roaring flames in Viktor's heart. His eyes lit up with a rare speed, and his wordless lips parted. The house, the honey. The dream came back to him once more, but this time, the torturous doubt was gone entirely.

You winked and snatched his nice pen from the shirt pocket, quickly replacing it with a pink rose from one of Jayce's silly bouquets.

With growing disbelief, Viktor's head whirled.

I am not invisible! I belong in the mirror!

You grabbed the signed papers from his desk, laughing lightheartedly. As you rushed away, that hard platform sound echoed satisfyingly off of the marble floors. It further shook Viktor's already scrambled thoughts.

Quieter, farther. Down the narrow hall. Quieter, farther. Quieter, farther, and- ah.

[seat-safety-switch]

Sometimes, people come to me with problems. I try to leave them with fewer problems than they came in with, or at least the same number, but different. Like those take-a-penny-leave-a-penny jars at the convenience store. Before they outlawed pennies, that is. Now it's take-a-unique-cryptographic-hash-take-a-unique-cryptographic-hash, and nobody has time to do all that math. Certainly you can't fix a loose battery cable with a Merkle tree.

For a couple of months now, I've been working a new job. After my latest parole officer burned out and decided he would much rather be trying to revive the last Mmmuffins franchise left in the Canadian wastelands, I got a new one. And she has a lot of crazy ideas, ideas like forcing me to get a job or she'll put me back in jail. This dedication to her job inspired me to seek some meaningful work in public service. I became a social worker.

Now, I know what you're saying, especially if you're a social worker. Becoming one requires a lot of education, training, and oversight from trusted people. However, my province barely requires a drivers' license. It's exactly the one you think it is. Soon, I was helping folks deal with their most complex familial struggles. One client was a stressed-out single mom, who brought to me her young son. He liked to take things apart, she complained. Once, she found a disassembled flashlight and several stolen screwdrivers under his bed. This, she felt, was not a normal thing for a small child to do.

I had just the cure. That's how I got my transmission swapped in the Dart. All I needed to do was show this little ankle-biter how to work the transmission jack and he tore right into that A727. He already knew the other critical technique of "lefty loosey, righty tighty," which is impressive for his age. After that, I put my feet up, and had a couple beers while he had fun taking apart and putting back together the biggest box of toys that he'd ever seen, courtesy of the Plymouth Motor Corporation.

When I gave him back to his mother at the end of the day, he was tired as all hell. In that state, he was certainly not willing to disassemble any televisions, fridge compressors, or dogs in the area. He wouldn't bother with such small game from now on: no, he had been ruined by the concept of pseudo-economical 1970s American shitboxes. His mother was delighted, and slipped me a couple twenties even though you're really not supposed to tip your social worker (and if you do, I prefer gift cards to RockAuto.)

Is there a moral to the story? Yes. It's that children want to work, so we should let them do it. That way they get a nice outlet to discover the real world, and also I don't have to do jack shit. I do wish the little bastard knew how to read, though. It was very annoying having to lean in every so often to set the torque wrench for him.

[metalfuzzwriting]

I just found your blog and im already OBSESSED 😍

Would I be able to request Ghost with a prek/kindergarten teacher? Maybe helping her make decorations for the classroom or building cubby’s for the classroom?

Thank you!

Sorry for the delayed response. Got caught up in uni work, but I hope you like it!

"Why is everything so tiny?" Simon nudged a rather small chair away from an equally as small circular table.

Because they're tiny. I am a kindergarten teacher after all. Everything is small because it promotes a better learning environment for the children. They're small, so having things in their size lets them experience things in the way an adult would." You bump the chair back into place with your knee and move to set the box down on one of the tables with a heavy thump

"I... guess that makes sense. Do you have a normal-sized chair I can sit in, preferrably Simon-sized so I don't get stuck in it?"

"I have my stool behind mt desk, but I'm going to be sitting on it to finish up some lesson plans. Which while zi work on those you'll be putting together paper chains to hang around my classroom. I need links of 100, as many as you can make before you run out of paper. Chop chop, mister." You clap your hands together and toss your hair over your shoulder as you walk toward your desk. You can hear Simon grumble behind you before you hear the creaking groan of him finding a seat in on of the tiny chairs. Consider yourself impressed it didn't break with his weight.

The rhythm of you typing away on your keyboard combined with the rustling of paper from Simon, it was relaxing in your classroom. Your classroom had a calming aura to it with its dimmed lighting and purple and green theme. You tried your best to not get distracted from your task, but seeing the tall and broad man sitting before you at a tiny kindergarten table using kiddie scissors to cut up strips of construction paper to glue together made you smile. You felt your heart melt at the thought this big man would do anything for you if you asked. Maybe you could convince him to play a tree in the play you wanted to host later in the year.

Distracted from looking at him, you barely notice him sealing the last of the steps together creating about 4 chains. He stretches his fingers and looks over his shoulder toward you with a glare, but you could see the hints of a smile in the same eyes. "I think that's the rest of them. Anything else you want me to do?"

You dart your eyes away back to your screen. Despite trying your best to not get distracted, you had lost your place within your work. You really needed to finish this up before class started up again the following week, so you glanced around the room to see what else he could do. Just your luck, but you spotted some boxes to the side that you had been meaning to put together for some years now. The cubbies had been in storage in your back closest for a while, you just kept putting them on the back burner. Better now than ever, you suppose. "You could out together those cubbies and line them up by the door. I have some screwdrivers in my desk. Not sure what you'd need."

Simon grunted in agreement and moved over toward your desk to retrieve the screwdrivers you pulled from your drawer. With a quick swipe, the tools were gone and Simon was off on a mission to put those cubbies together. Thankfully, he was working out of your direct line of sight so you wouldn't be distracted by the horrifically tight black T-shirt he wore as it stretched across his back as he moved.

Eventually, everything was finished up and you were thankful for the help, even though you did have to bribe Simon a bit. Though you believe he wanted to spend the day with you anyway considering he wasn't sure how long his leave would last. Regardless, you finally could mark those items off your to do list and worry about spending the next day relaxing in bed with Simon.

[sim0nril3y]

Handy Man

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Civilian!Reader Scenario: Simon begins to notice that some things around your flat are a little worse for wear, so he makes it his job to fix them. Warnings: No mask Simon (It's my personal headcanon in his regular life he probably wouldn't wear it), established relationship, smut, p in v, very little foreplay, dirty talk, praise, cumplay, creampie, canon-typical swearing.

The sound of sizzling frying in the pan seemed to become background noise around your idle chatter, using a spatula to move and flip it around the pan whilst you spoke. “… and she was telling me…” Even your incessant talking became background noise instead all that Simon could focus on was that sound of the drip, drip, drip of the tap. His eyes focusing on it like it was a target he needed to eliminate. Drip, drip, drip it mocked him again and his fingers tightened on the mug in his grip.

Did you not hear that? Did it not drive you fucking insane? Simon’s eyes flickered over to where you stood with your back to him, continuing to natter mindlessly. “… I was thinking that she had to be joking…” Then you laughed whilst drip, drip, drip consumed his attention again. “… there was no bloody way…” It didn’t faze you at all. No, you simply kept your attention on the bacon in the pan that was swiftly becoming burned. “… Oh, and then-”

“Love.” His voice was tight and stern as you glanced over your shoulder at him, eyes bright and inviting, reminding him that you didn’t think like he did, you didn’t obsess over the tiny details and that was something he loved about you. “You, uh… you got any tools 'round here?” He asked, standing in a moment to approach the offending tap, observing it, moving it, turning it on and off a couple times. “Tools?” You quizzed before frowning heavily, moving the bacon aside and switching off the hob. “Oh.” The opening a stiff looking drawer to produce the oldest looking screwdriver he’d ever seen. “I have this…” Announcing like some accomplishment.

Under his breath he muttered. “Fuckin’ hell.” Holding the tool in hand, gripping the handle hard before throwing it aside uselessly. “Stop fussing.” Your voice announced then, placing down a plate that held freshly made bacon sandwich where he had originally been sitting. “Whatever you’re obsessing about…” You took a hearty bite of your own sandwich. “It can wait…” Another bite. “Until you’ve eaten…” Then licking your fingers as you grabbed the condiments from the fridge and held it out to him. “Red or brown?”

Simon’s shower had been everything but relaxing. The water had been cold for far longer than he had appreciated and directly above him the light flickered so horrendously that for a moment Simon could have convinced himself he was at a rave. “Light is flickering in your bathroom.” Simon announced, towel wrapped around his waist as he stepped into the lounge to find you. “What’s that?” You quizzed from where you stood observing a canvas, then turning to him. “The light. In the bathroom. It’s flickering.” He reiterated in a low voice whilst your eyes were lingering on his broad chest, watching the water trickle down his skin. “Oi. Pay attention.” Simon bit out playfully.

Snapping you from your trance a low hum came from your throat. “The… light…” Then out made a small noise of recognition. “It’s actually always done that.” The statement followed a careless shrug as you turned your back to him to regain focus on your painting. “You told your landlord?” He asked with concern. “Uh, yeah…” The response was quick and Simon knew you too well. “Think I’ve mentioned it before. Said he tried to fix it but it was some bigger wiring problem, or something…” Another shrugged and it bothered Simon significantly.

He had a problem with you living in a place like this. It wasn’t a good area to begin to live in. Outside teenagers screamed and caused mayhem all night, idiots drove cars around too fast and noisy at night and others got up to shady things away from prying eyes. Too many times Simon had left your flat to find never seen before dents in his car or a bunch of teenagers loitering around it. It didn't scare him but he didn’t like the thought of them playing the same tricks on you.

Besides all that, the flat just wasn’t up to standard for you. It was tiny and cluttered and half of it didn’t work or was in the process of falling apart, all that on top of knowing that you rent was way too high for what you were getting. Simon knew he needed to fix this.

That evening a frown pressed to his lips as he walked into the bedroom with a couple glasses of water. Placing one down beside you he pressed a kiss to your hairline. Then moving to the other side of the bed Simon stopped by the radiator. His hand reaching out to touch it as he frowned. The heating was on full blast everywhere else, so why wasn’t this one hot at all? He removed his hand and touched a different part and his frown intensified. “This rad isn’t working…” He mentioned as you glanced up from where you were rubbing a sweet smelling moisturiser into your legs, as if you could be anymore soft and supple, Simon lamented internally. “Isn’t it?” “You didn’t know? Babe, it’s stone bloody cold.” Then pressing his hand to it again, as if he might have gotten it wrong, but it remained completely unchanged beneath his fingers. “I know that must bother you ‘cause you’re constantly putting your cold feet on me.”

A delicate laugh fell from your lips. “Well, what’s the point of having a warm, strong body beside me if I don’t utilise it?” You jested causing Simon to scowl. “Wind your neck in.” He muttered, before trying to fight the smirk that pulled onto his face. Once again, his eyes focused on the radiator, as if his new targed. Simon mentioned. “Probably needs to be bled. S’not hard. It’s something you should learn to do…”

You simply nodded, continuing your night-time routine that he actually enjoyed watching, by the end you smelt absolutely delicious and he was more than happy to eat you. “Y’know, there isn’t much that works in this flat, babe.” He said then, moving to lay down on the bed beside you, leaning on his side in your direction. “That oven is dodgy. Every tap leaks. Lights flicker. Rads aren’t working….” Then he frowned again, reaching out to rub your knee. “These are things your landlord should be sorting…” For a moment you were quiet and then looked at him with a genuine smile. “I really hadn’t noticed, Si. I think I’ve just gotten used to it.”

It may have been something that you’ve gotten used to, but it certainly wasn’t something that Simon was going to allow. By the time that you woke up the next morning to your dismay Simon was gone from your side. Instead of worrying yourself too much you started your day and decided to put some more work into the canvas that you were obsessing over. Maybe some green? Or… maybe some blue… that would be a nice bit of contrast… what story were you trying to tell with this piece?

A knock interrupted you, placing down your brush and then wandering to open the door and smiling as Simon stood there, toolbox in hand. Your eyes trailed over his frame, looking as handsome as ever and very handy too. “Oh, you here to check my pipes?” You cooed flirtatiously causing Simon to chuckle as he stepped inside, kissing your forehead and muttering. “I think you mean clean your pipes, love…” He corrected you. “I’ll do that later if you’re a good girl and let me work.”

You allowed him as much time to work as you could manage, but as you found him working under your sink, tight dark coloured shirt riding up to reveal the trail of short hair leading down it seemed impossible to resist. “My-my…” You whimpered, your voice quaint and lewd as you sauntered a little further into the kitchen. “That is an awful big hammer you have there~” You purred in a breathy tone. “Maybe I could hold it for you~” “Fuckin’ hell…” Even without seeing him you could hear the smile on his face. “You’re bloody insatiable, love.” Sliding out from the cupboard to look at you standing there, shifting from one foot to the other as if waiting for his command. “Fuck, c’mon then…” He mentioned, lifting his hips off the worn tiled floors and shifting his jeans and underwear down to his upper thighs, cock springing free and slapping against his stomach. “Hurry up.”

Hastily you moved to straddle his thighs, rubbing your clit in tight circles and humming as you warmed yourself up, stroking his cock languidly with your free hand. His eyes rolled back for a second, lower lip gripped between his teeth. “C’mon, baby…” Large hand spanked your hear and a moment later you were lowering yourself onto his hard member, gasping at the way it intruded and stretched your slightly underprepared walls, pressing your hands hard to the wide expanse of his chest as you happily bounced your hips. “Good girl. Good fuckin’ girl. Quicker now.”

The look on your face was completely enchanted with lust and love, unable to form even the most basic of sentence. All you could manage was huffing and puffing, bouncing yourself with an unsteady rhythm. “C’mon, sweetheart. You can do better than that.” Simon grit his teeth, plating his feet on the ground and resisting the urge to begin to fuck up into your relentlessly, if you wanted this then you were gonna work for every fucking second of it. “Go on. Ruin that perfect little cunt on me…” His hands cupping and caressing your hips, feeling the way they faltered and sort his guidance.

In your defence, it was difficult to concentrate on keeping a rhymth with the way your thighs were burning, Simon had a way of keeping you his pillow princess, so times when he made you work for it felt extra hard. Not to mention, the way his cock split you open was mind-numbing, each time you sunk down his cock would press firmly against your special spots before bumping firmly against your cervix, kissing it before sliding back and promising to meet it again mere seconds later.

“S-Simon~” You cried softly, feeling your thighs cramping and pressing your hands firmly into his chest before your desperate eyes found his own. “Simon, please~” The sound was nothing more than a whimper, but it was enough for him to take mercy on your poor worn body. Beginning to thrust up firmly into your tight cunt, locking you into place with a firm hold on your hips. This produced loud gasps and moans beginning to tumble from between your lips, instead of planting your hands into his chest, now your desperately curled his shirt between your fingers. “Ohfuck. Ohfuck.” You cried helplessly.

“C’mon pretty girl.” He muttered coolly, fucking up into you without stopping or pausing, finding lasting stamina that were thankful that he had. “C’mon, get yourself there. You know how. Show me.” He pressed, watching the way your fingers slipped down and began to rub your clit in tight circles, whimpering, leaning forward, panting and then finally. “Simon~” That beautiful noise. Oh, he if he could play it on repeat in his head he fucking would. It was like a fucking lullaby that would coax him into a peaceful sleep everynight.

The way your body convulsed and locked up above his own, Simon observed with adoration, taking in the way your eyes rolled just slightly before sealing closed, mouth popping open, tongue sometimes bit between your teeth, nose scrunching, chest thrumming. It was fucking beautiful. Every second. He wanted to enjoy it over and over, but the way that you tight walls strangled his cock caused him to splutter out a low noise and then begin to shoot his thick load inside whilst your walls milked him for every pump.

There you leant into his body, breathing hard and both completely spent. It was bliss. All his worries had disappeared, the sound of that dripping sink was gone and instead replaced with your adorable whines as you slowly regained composure, smiling down at him so sweetly and carefully sliding from his length and sitting beside him.

For a moment he lay there, his body almost numb and then reaching over to pull your thigh aside and watching the way his cum seeped from your spent walls, convulsing weakly as it dribbled to the floor. “Beautiful.” He commented, closing his eyes for another second and committing that image to memory. “That’ll be me through the rest of this…” Simon mentioned, reopening his eyes and gazing at your cunt one final then and then tucking himself away. “Go on. Off you go. I got work to do.” Climbing back under the sink and resuming his handy work as if he hadn’t just destroyed your sweet cunt.

“Yes, sir~” You cooed, carefully climbing back to your feet and lingering in the doorway. Still sensing your presence Simon spoke without looking. “Thought I told you to bugger off.” Listening to you giggle in response. “Just give me a minute, I’m trying to think of another porny handy man line to use on you…”

Masterlist | Ask | 16-11-2023

[starrydali]

Engraved in My Heart - Leo Valdez

*ੈ✩‧₊˚✧˖*°࿐ Leo Valdez can't stop thinking about you. Even when he's building or fixing things you're always on his mind. This leads him to develop the habit of carving your name on everything he makes from blueprints to the literal Argo II ship. Anyone on the ship can see just how obsessed he is with you as your name is literally written on every wall and under every table. He doesn't even realize what he's doing anymore, you're just always on his mind. ✧. ┊ 

part 2

Percy is the first to notice, while checking the engine room Percy leans over a section of the ship's mechanics and spots a little "Y/n" etched into the side of the ship.

Percy: "Y/n? Really, Leo?"

Jason: "What's up?"

Percy: (gesturing to the engraving) "Leo's been busy. I'm pretty sure he's carved her name into half this ship."

Jason squints at the spot, then smirks "Let me guess, this is about Y/n?"

Percy: "You notice he's like... obsessed?"

Jason: "Yeah, but I thought it was in a flirting as a joke way, you know? Guess it's more in a hopeless romantic way.

Jason is helping Leo in the workshop, picking through tools when he notices something strange. He holds up a wrench with "Y/n" engraved along the handle in fancy writing.

Jason: (holding it up) “Hey Leo, do all your tools come with this customization, or is it just this one?” he teases.

Leo: "Hey! That's my lucky wrench. You wouldn't get it.”

Jason: “So you do think of her every time you fix something?”

Leo: "What can I say? She inspires me. Maybe you should try it sometime- it might improve your flying”

Jason rolls his eyes, but when he picks up the screwdriver he notices another tiny engraving of her name surrounded by hearts.

Jason: "It's on the screwdriver too? Man, you've got it bad"

Percy’s examining part of the ship when he spots “Y/n” faintly carved into one of the panels.

Percy: “Uh, Leo? Why does this look like you wrote your girlfriend’s name on the ship?”

Leo: (leaning casually against the wall) “What? You like it? Adds character. And she’s not my girlfriend... yet. ”

Percy: “More like it screams 'obsessed boyfriend'”

Leo: "I prefer 'dedicated artist'"

Annabeth: (walking by): “Leo, you’re unbelievable. This is how you show affection? Carving her name into every available surface?”

Leo: (grinning) “I don’t know, I think it’s pretty romantic.”

Annabeth: (deadpan) “If you say so. I’m just surprised there’s not a neon sign that says ‘I’m in love with Y/n.’”

Leo: “That’s next.”

Percy: "Uh, Annabeth, is it just me, or does this wheel have ‘Y/n’ carved into it like... seven times?"

Annabeth squints at the ship's wheel. "No, you're right. Seven times, in different fonts."

Percy, grinning: "I don’t even know if Leo realizes he’s doing it anymore."

Annabeth was looking over some of Leo's blueprints while the ship was being built and her eyes caught on the name "Y/n" written over and over in the margins surrounded by doodles of stars and hearts.

Annabeth: "Leo, really? Your blueprints have her name on them too?"

Leo: (grinning) "Well, she's my muse, what can I say i'm always thinking about her"

Annabeth: (raising an eyebrow) "I thought your muse was fire and explosions".

Leo: "Hey Y/n's got that effect on me too"

Annabeth: (sighing) "Your insane Leo"

Leo: "Yeah insanely in love with her."

Piper runs her fingers over some carvings on the dining table during breakfast.

Piper: "Y/n. Y/n. Oh look, another Y/n." She smirks. "Honestly, it’s cute. He's like a lovesick poet with a pocketknife."

Annabeth: "Cute until it’s literally everywhere. Look at this chair leg!" She holds it up to show ‘Y/n’ scratched into the wood.

Piper: "I’m starting to think we’re all living in Leo’s giant love letter."

Percy, climbing up the ladder: "What the heck? Y/n's name is carved into every single rung!"

Leo, overhearing: "Yeah, so? Keeps me focused."

Percy: "Focused on what? Your undying love?"

Leo winks: "Exactly."

Jason pulls out his celestial bronze shield during a fight, only to spot something unusual on the rim. As he turns it over he sees "Y/n" carved neatly into the metal.

Jason: (yelling over the chaos) "Leo. Did you personalize my shield with your crush’s name?"

Leo: "Technically, it’s not personalizing. It’s branding."

Percy, laughing: "You’re like a lovesick graffiti artist."

Leo: "Whatever if it doesn't have her name on it than I don't trust it will work!"

Jason: "Your obsessed"

✧. ┊ Send requests! :)

[teddybeartoji]

彡 THE WORST PARTNER IN THE WHOLE WIDE WORLD

☆. contains: satoru gojo x gn!reader; con-artists au, crack, satoru is a little shit what's new, he also calls you 'baby' how sweet of him, hm? wc: 1.2k

+ a few hours earlier...

on the other side of the wall, music and laughter mix together almost perfectly. the people are having fun, they're drinking and chatting, joking about the latest super cars and 'boring' paintings. rich people.

a bead of sweat rolls from your temple.

the setting sun paints the room you're in a beautiful warm orange. the big windows invite the sunrays in with open arms; they hit the mahogany wood furniture and you're a bit jealous. a bit of dust falls from the ceiling and you have to focus on not sneezing.

"ugh, we make such a good team!"

...

satoru gojo.

"we– fuck, do not!" you grumble at him through gritted teeth. "you literally left me– to the cops last time, dipshit!"

"but you got away!" he chirps back rather gleefully and the desire to punch him is suffocating.

careful as to not raise your voice too much, you whisper-shout at him. "just barely!"

"well, don't sell yourself short, babe! you do know how to work a tight spot!"

...

it hurts. his stupidity hurts your brain. squeezing your eyes shut, you shake your head at his joke. "can you– be like a normal fucking person? never say that again."

your knees about to buckle from below you and you're also losing your balance alongside your patience. it's rather hard to hold a 6'3 man up on your shoulders.

who could've guessed?

more dust falls onto your nose as satoru works on unscrewing the vent in the ceiling. it's painted gold. because why wouldn't it be, right? rich people are insane.

"what do you mean?! you were in a 'tight spot' and you got out of it!" it's sickening how genuine he sounds. "get it? it's called a tight spo— "

"could you possibly– stop saying the word 'tight'?" you grip onto his polished shoe that's sitting on your right shoulder while the fingers of your other hand dig into his ankle. "and could you possibly do this any fucking faster?"

he has ruined your suit with his dirty shoes and he has ruined your mood with his stupid jokes. you hate him.

he simply laughs at your annoyed tone "almost there, baby, almost there."

you try to make him explode with your mind for calling you baby again, completely and blatantly ignoring the butterflies that now occupy your stomach. you're just a bit nervous about the job, that's all. they have nothing to do with him. nothing at all.

you hear him shuffling around, mumbling something to himself as he reaches over to the last one, but while he doing so – he ends up putting way too much pressure onto your right shoulder which in turn makes you take a wobbly step forward. satoru's hands grasp onto the wall beside him in an attempt to help you regain your balance.

"c'mon! steady now!"

"shut the– " with furrowed brows, you glance up at him. sensing your gaze, he looks down at you with the prettiest smile. no, wait. just a smile, just a smile. fuck, you really hate him. "fuck– up!"

he gives you a quick wink before continuing his work and you avert your gaze. you can already feel the bruises blooming under your suit and shirt, reminders of his touch for the continuing weeks.

"you're way heavier than you look, gojo."

the sound of his gasp, makes your eyes roll back into your head. "are you calling me fat?"'

"yes. are you done?"

he tsks at your sharp answer and pockets his mini screwdriver. "so rude. and yes, i'm ready." as he speaks he takes the cover from it's place and slides it inside the vent. "be strong now!"

refraining from barking back, you divert all of your focus onto your core muscles and thighs. satoru lodges his one leg onto one of the fancy tall cabinet and you the uneven weight almost ruins you both. holding onto the wall with your now free hand, you observe him climbing up into the vent. the leg on your shoulder shakes and wobbles, threatening to run off but satoru doesn't seem to mind. you're sure he's having fun. the shit.

he manages to get his hands inside the vent and he's now trying to jam his whole body through the hole. his foot finally rises from your shoulder and he almost hits you in the face with it as he swings it around, supposedly gaining momentum for a final push. you sigh and brush off the dirt and dust from your suit.

you look around the room as you wait for him to turn himself around in the small vent. the sun warms your skin and you take the moment to enjoy the band through the walls of the room. exquisite paintings hang all around you, hugged by dark wooden frames, they rest in the shadows. specks of dust land on your nose and you look up.

he's grinning.

oh no.

"satoru..."

your warning does nothing but excite him even further.

"oh? ...not gojo?" his smile stretches. "but you love tight spots! i'm sure you'll find another way in, babe."

you're going to kill him.

deeply breathing in through your nose, you give him the biggest and also the fakest smile in the word.

"satoru, baby..." you hate how smug he looks. you want to wipe that stupid fucking smile from his face.

"you know that i just love tight spots and that's exactly why... you should pull me the fuck up!" your whisper-shouting turns into a full bark and satoru giggles behind his hand "right. now! i don't wanna find another way when a way is literally in front of me!"

his eyes twinkle at you when he realizes you actually used his own joke against him. you're so fucking hot. and you're especially hot now that you're glaring at him with a puffed out chest. he's having the best time of his life.

"that was good. that was really good actually." he winks at you as he moves to grab the vent cover from behind him. he places it back over the hole with a painfully slow pace, surely just to make you suffer even some more. he's sick. he's still visible enough for you to see the infuriating smile on his lips as he plays with you. "you did take my keycard though."

right.

he's as bratty as they come, as pretty as they come. petty! petty...

and this is his little payback. you're going to burn his house down. preferably when he's still in it. he gets on your nerves like nothing else. his eyes fucking sparkle from between the metal bars of the vent cover and your fingers curl into tight fists on your sides.

"i hate you."

"you'll get over it, baby. i'll see you later, yeah?"

his pearly whites flash at you one last time and then he's already climbing over the cover, heading straight for the room where they keep the goodies. without you.

...

a dusty suit, sweat, aching shoulders and pure, unadulterated rage.

you need a new plan.

and a fucking drink.

[sonamytrash]

A good fuckin' show

Electrician Toji Fushiguro.

Porn trope Toji series, part 1🖤

Warnings: MDNI, Dom!Toji x fem!reader, shameless smut, smut with minimal plot, smut with porno plot, vaginal fingering, eating pussy, eating ass, fisting, squirting, oral sex (m and f receiving), cum swallowing, dirty talk, probably more, not proof read.

I don't know what to say for myself. I got carried away, but there's no way any Toji in any universe wouldn't be this feral. Wrap up, don't let your electrician fist you unless it's Toji. Enjoy you nasty sluts 🖤

Dividers by @cafekitsune

The rain pattered against the windowpane, casting a rhythmic pattern of shadows across the living room carpet. You pull your hair into a messy bun as you stare at the clock. It was 2:58 PM on a dreary Saturday. The TV hummed with a cooking show, the only company you had while waiting for the electrician you'd called earlier that week.

The sudden knock at the door startled you. You peered through the peephole, and there he was: Toji Fushiguro, the man who'd been recommended by your friend. He was tall, his broad shoulders almost filling the doorframe, and his handsome face was a picture of confidence. You felt your heart skip a beat, not from fear but from the electric charge that seemed to pulse through the air around him.

You undid the lock and opened the door. "Hi," you said, trying to keep your voice steady. "You're the electrician?"

Toji nodded, flashing a grin that made your knees weak. "Yep, that's me," he said, his eyes shamelessly roaming over your figure. "Toji Fushiguro, at your service." He stepped inside, his work boots squeaking slightly on the polished floor. The air grew thick with tension as he moved closer, invading your personal space in a way that was both intimidating and tantalizing.

You led him to the flickering light in the lounge, trying to ignore the way his gaze lingered on your hips.

"So, what seems to be the problem?" he asked, his voice a low rumble that seemed to resonate through your very core.

You pointed up at the light fixture. "It's been doing this for a few days now," you said, your voice a little shakier than you'd intended. "I don't know much about electrical stuff, so I figured it was better to call a professional."

Toji nodded, his eyes still fixed on you as he pulled out his toolkit. "Might just be a loose wire," he murmured, setting the tools down on the floor. He walked over to the switch, turning the light on to see the issue for himself before turning it off again. He reached up, his strong arms flexing as he unscrewed the cover. "Let's see what we can do about that."

As he worked, his shirt rode up slightly, revealing a trail of dark hair that led down to his waistband. You couldn't help but stare, your thoughts drifting to the powerful body that lay beneath. The room grew warmer, or maybe it was just your imagination. You licked your lips, feeling a familiar ache building between your legs.

Toji must have noticed your gaze because he glanced down, catching you in the act. He smirked and leaned in closer, his breath hot against your neck. "You like what you see?" he said, pulling you from your thoughts.

You blushed, trying to play it cool. "I'm just admiring your... work ethic," you replied with a roll of your eyes, your voice a breathy whisper.

Toji chuckled, his deep laugh sending a shiver down your spine. He stepped back and bent over the toolkit, his pants stretching tight across his muscular ass. You felt your eyes wander, taking in every inch of his body. He pulled out a pair of wire cutters and a screwdriver, his movements deliberate and precise.

"Might need to get up there to take a better look," he said, his eyes twinkling mischievously, "Could you help me out?"

You nodded, a mix of excitement and nerves bubbling in your stomach. You stepped closer, reaching to hand him the ladder from the nearby closet. As you did, your breasts brushed against his hand, and you felt a spark of desire ignite. He took the ladder and set it up under the light fixture, his biceps bulging with the effort.

"You can just stay down there," he said, his voice gruff. "I'll let you know if I need anything."

You watched as he climbed the ladder, his thighs flexing with every step. When he reached the top, he leaned over, giving you a perfect view of his ass. You bit your lip, trying to focus on the task at hand, but the anticipation was too much.

"You can go ahead and hand me those wire strippers," he said, holding out his hand without looking down. You reached up, your fingertips grazing his palm as you handed them over. Fuck, his hands were so big.

As you watched him work, you couldn't help but let your thoughts wander. The way his muscles moved beneath his shirt, the scent of his cologne, the roughness of his hands. Before you knew it, your own hand was resting on your thigh, squeezing slightly. You could feel your pussy growing wetter with every passing second.

Toji paused in his work, sensing the shift in the air. He glanced down at you, his eyes darkening. "You okay down there?" he asked, his voice a little gruffer than before.

You nodded, trying to regain your composure. "Yeah, I'm fine," you said, your voice strained.

Toji took his time climbing down the ladder, his eyes never leaving yours. When he reached the bottom, he stepped closer, so close that you could feel the heat emanating from his body. "You sure about that?" he asked, a knowing smile playing on his lips.

Your breath hitched as his hand reached out, brushing against your cheek. His thumb traced a line along your jaw, sending a shiver down your spine. "I can see you're a little... distracted," he murmured.

You swallowed hard, unable to form a coherent response. His touch was like a brand, searing through your skin and igniting a fire within you. The ache between your legs grew more intense, and you realized you'd been subtly shifting your weight, trying to relieve the pressure.

Toji leaned in, his breath warm against your ear. "Maybe I can help with that," he whispered, his hand sliding down to rest on your hip. His fingers dug in, holding you in place as he stepped closer, trapping you between his body and the wall.

You gasped as he brought his mouth to yours, his kiss rough and demanding. His tongue slid past your lips, exploring your mouth with a hunger that matched your own. Your body responded instinctively, arching into him as you wrapped your arms around his neck. His hands roamed over your body, one sliding up to cup your breast, the other slipping down to squeeze your ass.

With a growl, Toji picked you up, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carried you to the couch. He set you down, his eyes never leaving yours as he stripped off his shirt, revealing a chest that was a sculpted masterpiece. You reached out, your fingers tracing the lines of his muscles, feeling the heat of his skin.

He kissed you again, his hands deftly unbuttoning your blouse. Your breasts spilt out, and he took one in his mouth, sucking and biting gently. You moaned, your body responding to his touch with a fervour that surprised you.

"Fuck," you breathed, as his hand slid up your thigh, pushing your shorts aside. His rough fingers grazed your wet panties, the fabric already soaked through. He leaned in, capturing your mouth again as he ground his hips against you, his erection pressing into your core.

You reached for his belt, eager to feel his bare skin against yours. He let out a low growl as you unbuckled it, his erection straining against his pants. He stepped back for a moment, pulling his pants down to free himself, revealing his thick, hard cock.

You couldn't take your eyes off it, the sight making your mouth water. "Suck it," he ordered, his voice a low growl that sent a bolt of excitement through your body. You didn't hesitate, sliding off the couch to your knees. The scent of his arousal filled the air as you leaned in, wrapping your hand around the base of his cock. You took the tip into your mouth, feeling the heat and the velvety skin against your tongue.

Toji's hands tangled in your hair, guiding your movements as you took more of him in. "That's it, baby," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "Take it all." His curses and praise grew more fervent as you worked him, your mouth sliding up and down his length, taking in as much as you could and using your hand to pump the base. The salty taste of his precum mixed with the musky scent of his skin was driving you wild.

"You like that, don't you?" he groaned, his grip tightening. "You like being a good little slut for me." You nodded, unable to speak around his cock and tears pricked the corners of your eyes. The idea of being his, of being used by him, was intoxicating.

"Mmhmm," you managed to murmur, your voice muffled by his shaft.

Toji's grip in your hair tightened as he thrust deeper into your mouth, his hips rocking slightly as you gagged on his cock. "Such a good girl," he groaned, his voice a mix of pleasure and dominance. "So eager to please.

You moaned in response, the vibrations travelling along his length as your throat spasmed around him. He was heightening your arousal with every filthy word that left his lips. You could feel your own juices trickling down your thighs, your pussy begging for his attention.

"Look at you," Toji said, his voice a gruff whisper. "Such a greedy little whore. You want more, don't you?"

You nodded, your eyes watering slightly as you kept up the pace. His grip in your hair tightened, pulling you back and forth as he fucked your mouth. You could feel his cock swelling, growing harder with every stroke. "That's it," he growled. "Take it all, baby."

His praise was driving you to be the best you could be for him. You moaned around his length, the vibrations sending shivers through his body. His curses grew louder, his hips bucking as he reached the edge. "I'm going to cum," he warned, his voice strained. "Be a good girl and swallow every fucking drop."

You nodded, eager to please. His cock pulsed in your mouth, and you felt the first hot spurt of his cum hit the back of your throat. You swallowed, the salty taste flooding your mouth. He pulled out, stroking himself the last few times, spurts of cum landing on your face and chest. You sat back, a proud smile playing on your lips.

Toji pressed you back onto the couch, His hands deftly found the waistband of your shorts, tugging them down with a harsh jerk. Toji's gaze raked over you, his pupils dilating with desire. He slid his thumbs under the elastic of your panties, pulling them down with a slow, deliberate motion. You felt the cool air hit your skin, making you shiver.

He dropped to his knees, his breath hot against your thighs. "Spread 'em," he ordered, his voice thick with lust. You obeyed, your legs parting as he moved closer. His hands slid along your inner thighs, his rough fingers sending shivers up your spine. You felt his mouth on you, his tongue tracing the line of your pussy before delving in. You moaned, your hips bucking as he began to eat you out.

His tounge found your clit with ease, pressing down with just the right amount of pressure. He teased it mercilessly, flicking and circling as you squirmed beneath him. Then, without warning, one of his thick digits slid inside you, filling you up. You gasped, the sudden intrusion making your eyes roll back in your head. He chuckled against your skin, his teeth grazing your clit as he added a second finger.

Toji's fingers began to move, pumping in and out of you in a rhythm that grew more frantic with every passing second. You could feel yourself getting wetter, your juices coating his hand as he worked you closer to the edge. His tounge remained on your clit, rubbing it in time with the thrusts of his fingers. It was as if he knew exactly what you needed, as if he could read your mind.

With a wicked grin, he pulled away, leaving you panting and desperate. He leaned back, his eyes traveling over your exposed, trembling body. "Ready for more?" he asked, his voice low and dark.

You nodded, unable to form words as he repositioned himself between your legs. He spread your cheeks apart, his breath hot on your sensitive skin. You felt his rough fingers slide into your pussy, coating them in your wetness before moving to your tight asshole. "Look at this perfect little asshole," he murmured, his voice a mix of awe and lust. "So tight and pink. Do you want me to play with it?" He began to massage the entrance before you could reply, loosening you up with gentle pressure. The sensation was foreign and thrilling, making you squirm with anticipation.

With a wicked smirk, Toji leaned in, his tongue darting out to taste you. He licked around the edge of your asshole, the sensation sending shockwaves through your body. You tightened your grip on the couch cushions, biting back a moan. He circled the tight ring of muscle before pushing his tongue inside, making you gasp. The feeling was intense, a mix of pleasure and pressure that was driving you wild.

As he ate your ass, his fingers remained busy, plunging in and out of your pussy. He stretched you wider, filling you with his digits until you were begging for more. You felt a third finger slide in alongside the first two, stretching you even further. The sensation was almost too much to handle.

He pulled away, smacking his lips. "You're so fucking tight," he murmured, his eyes dark with lust. "But I think you can take more." He pushed a fourth finger inside you, the blunt pressure making your eyes water. You gasped, your body tensing, but he held you down, his other hand keeping your pussy filled.

Toji began to pump his four fingers in and out, stretching you open. You felt your body start to relax, to accept the intrusion. You groaned, the sensation overwhelming. It was too much, but at the same time, it wasn't enough. You wanted more.

He looked up at you knowingly, his eyes dark with hunger. "Beg for it," he growled.

You couldn't believe the words that slipped from your mouth. "Please, Toji," you whimpered, "Fist me."

"Nasty fuckin' slut." He teases with a wicked grin, but he complied, adding the addition of his thumb, his hand disappearing into your pussy. You felt a brief moment of panic before the pressure grew, stretching you wider than you ever thought possible. He pushed in, inch by inch, his fist disappearing into your body. The pain was exquisite, a delicious agony that had you crying out in a mix of pleasure and pain.

As his fist filled you completely, his other hand moved back to your asshole, slipping a digit inside. The sensation of being so full was overwhelming, making your eyes water. You couldn't believe how much you enjoyed the feeling of his hand buried inside you, his knuckles pressing against the walls of your pussy. It was as if every nerve ending was on fire, the pleasure searing through you.

Toji leaned back in, his tongue licking your clit as he fisted you. The combination of his hand moving in and out of your tight hole and his tongue swirling around your sensitive nub was more than you could handle. You felt your orgasm building, a crescendo of sensation that was about to crash over you.

"Fuck, you're taking this so well," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "You like that, don't you?"

You could only nod, unable to find the words to respond as he began to move his fist in and out of you with a steady rhythm. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure through your body, making you arch off the couch. His tongue danced around your clit, licking and sucking as his fist pumped in and out of your pussy. The sensation was like nothing you'd ever experienced before, a delicious mix of pain and pleasure that had you begging for more.

Toji's hand was a blur of motion, his fist disappearing and reappearing as he fucked you with a ferocity that left you gasping for air. Your orgasm grew closer, the tension coiling tight in your belly. You could feel your muscles spasming around his hand, the pleasure building to a fever pitch.

With a final, desperate thrust, your body let go. You squirted, your juices spraying all over his hand and the couch beneath you. The force of your climax was so intense that you saw stars, your body convulsing as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you. Toji's eyes widened in surprise, but his smile grew even more wicked as he watched you come apart in his arms.

As your body trembled, he withdrew his fist, your muscles clenching around his retreating hand. He licked his lips, his eyes never leaving yours as he took in the sight of your quivering form. "Damn, you're a squirter," he murmured, his voice filled with approval. "I fucking love a good show."

[luveline]

if you're still taking them I would love to make a request for Eddie and Roan! do you know how sometimes little kids will call their parents workplace just to talk about the most random things or just ask some totally super important question? I feel like roan would do that with the reader and Eddie

thank you for your request!! eddie and roan —roan learns how to use the phone, 1.3k

Eddie used to feel nervous when the phone rang for him at work. "Call for baby Munson!" shouted across the shop while Eddie was usually flat on his back under a truck or elbow deep in a scooter engine, he'd get this pit in his stomach thinking something was wrong. 

It was usually daycare. Roan's sick, Roan's wet herself and her spare clothes aren't here, is Roan allergic to veggie sticks? Because she's saying she is. 

But nowadays, a phone rings for him and it's almost always you with something nice to say. You miss him. You've been thinking about him. All manner of gooey soft confession that has him clutching the phone like a loser, desperate for your voice. 

He springs away from his lunch when he's called. Darwin gives Eddie a funny look as he passes the phone. 

Eddie shrugs it off. "Hello?" he asks. "Y/N?"

"It's me!" 

Eddie feels his eyebrows leap up. "Hi, me." Roan hadn't ever used the phone unassisted, to his memory. "Where's mom?" 

"She's trying to fix your hair dryer." 

Eddie hears it, then, the roaring blow in the background. "Why does it sound like that?" 

"She dropped it. I think she's sad." 

"Ro, I fixed it!" you shout, followed by an even louder howling of air, and a heavy silence. "Okay, I didn't." 

"Is that why you called me?" Eddie asks, bemused.

"No, I called you because I want to know how they make corndogs. How do they get the hot dog inside of the corn, dad?" 

Eddie puts his hand on the wall to steady himself as he laughs. "You wanna know how they make corndogs? Are you gonna make some?" 

"I could if I knew how!" she stresses. "I'd ask mom, but she's pre-oc-u-pied."

"That's a big word, babe, where'd you learn that one?" Eddie asks, impressed. 

"Dad, corndogs!" 

"Right, right. Okay, well. They put the hot dog on the stick first, and then the corn part is actually batter. They roll the hotdog around in the batter and cook them together in the fryer. So it isn't the hotdog going into the corn, it's actually corn going on the hotdog." 

"Batter like for cakes?"

"No," he laughs fondly. "And it's not sweet corn, babe, it's something called cornmeal. Maybe we can make some this week, wouldn't that be fun? Then you can see how they make them for real. I think that would be super fun."

His bubbly tone attracts the attention and subsequent laughter of his colleague. He throws them all the bird, totally content and more than happy with his life and his curious girl. 

"Yes," Roan cheers, dragging the 's' syllable until she's out of breath, "oh my god that would be so fun!" 

"Okay, then that's what we'll do. Are you being good for mom?" 

"I'm being awesome." There's a weird crunching noise. "Did you hear that? I think she put the screwdriver in the hairdryer again." 

"Again?" Eddie asks worriedly. 

Roan must put the phone down. Eddie genuinely can't hear a thing, until you pick up the receiver and say, "Hallo?" 

"You blowing up the house?" 

You make a pleased noise that has his heart doubling in size. "Hi, Eddie. I'm having a technological mishap, but rest assured, we are in no danger of explosion. Anymore. What did you call for? It's lunch, isn't it?" 

"Actually, Roan called me. She wanted to know how to make corndogs." 

"You do know everything," you say. "Go and eat your lunch, baby. We'll still be here when you get home, yeah? I love you. Roan, come and tell daddy you love him before we hang up." 

A small silence. "Dad?" Roan asks. 

"Yep, still here." 

"I love you, okie dokie? Please come home in an hour."

Eddie laughs warmly. It's more like four hours, but whatever she wants to think is what he'll tell her. "I love you. Tell Y/N I love her, too, will you? Thank you." 

"Yes!" Her voice comes quieter, "I love you," Roan says to you. 

"I love you, too. Let's make dinner." 

You must think he's said goodbye, because the phone gets a knock and the dial tone sounds. 

—

You're sitting at your desk shovelling pretzels into your mouth while you click around your emails when the phone rings. You slide it between your ear and shoulder, pausing your frankly messy chewing. "Hello and good afternoon, Y/N L/N speaking, how can I help?" 

"Y/N?" Roan says worriedly.

"Roan? What's the matter?" 

"Oh, it is you! It didn't sounded like you at first, that's weird." 

"Sorry, gorgeous, I was using my voice for fancy grown ups."

She giggles like this is the funniest thing you've ever said to her, "You're being funny," she praises. 

You're secretly incredibly pleased. Making your six year old laugh never gets old. "So nothing is wrong, then? You know, those numbers on the fridge are for emergencies." 

"This is an emergency." 

"Yeah, I bet. What's going on? Where's dad?" 

"He's making toffee cake for you. I was helping him do the buttercream but my arms got tired from whisking." 

"Is that why you're calling me?" 

"Yeah." 

You dig for a saltier pretzel and chew thoughtfully. "What's the tiredest part? Your shoulders?" 

"And my fingers." 

"Asked daddy to kiss 'em better?" 

"I would but he's trying to be perfect about the cake. It looks yummy." 

"Did you get to lick the bowl?" 

"Yeah, and dad let me eat a spoon of the melted chocolate. It was pretty great." 

You grin into the receiver. "I bet it was amazing. Maybe you can try and rest your poor arms. Make daddy pour you a big glass of cranberry juice with the heart shaped ice cubes and watch TV until I come home, okay? That's an order."

"Okay," she laughs. "When are you coming home?" 

"I can leave in about twenty minutes, and the drive home takes another twenty, so…" You check the time on your computer. "I think by five." 

"Ugh, that's forever away." 

"I know. Do what I said, okay? Sit down on the couch. I can have a little look at your arms when I come home, maybe we can have a pamper night tonight. We can use some of my fancy lotion and rub it in like a massage," you say. 

"That sounds nice," she hums. 

"Alright, sweetheart. Listen, can I talk to dad before I go back to work?" 

"Yep, yep." You know what's coming as soon as she inhales. "Daddy!" she bellows at the top of her lungs, "Y/N's on the phone!" 

It's flattering how swiftly he gets there. "Hey?" he asks. 

"Hi, do we need anything for me to grab on the way home? I know you ran out of deodorant, was there anything else?" 

"Nothing I can think of. You okay?" 

"I'm awesome. I told Ro you'd make her a big cup of juice for her sore arms." 

"She told you about those, huh?" He kisses her audibly. "She's the best mixer ever. I was thinking we'd change her name to kitchen aid." 

You choke on a pretzel. Coughing, you laugh through a chastisement. "You leave her name alone. Roan is a nice name all by itself." 

"If you insist," he says grandly. "See you in an hour? I've got a surprise for you." 

"I can't wait," you say. You'll pretend to be totally surprised at his cake, no problem. Anything to make him smile. "Love you both. See you soon." 

"Love you. Say love you," Eddie prompts. 

"I love you!" Roan yells. "I'll make dad put your blanket in the dryer!" 

You put down the phone with a small smile, wondering if you can weasel your way past your eagle-eyed coworkers for an early finish. 

[howlingmod]

Hi mod!! Can I request Coil x reader who isn’t physical too strong but is a extraordinary mechanic that made adjustments for other people’s gears?

Let reader be Skate’s sibling for more drama if u want pretty plz

summary - coil x reader

misc - this prompt is so cute i had to wait to do it justice

-you two piss skate OFFFFFFF. he cant STAND you guys in the same room he's so mad you guys hit it off so well. all he wanted was to make sure you guys wouldn't kill each other in his apartment and you wouldn't call the cops on coil if you ran into him in the morning, NOT for you two to start bonding over the mechanics of different gears and the modification of them. expect a lot of playfighting with your brother because if he ever walks in a sweet moment its over he's tackling one of you

-Anyway.

-You two really did hit it off immediately. Coil wasn't really expecting much when Skate told him he wanted him to meet his sibling, he's heard plenty about you and you seem nice enough, but he'd never gotten the chance to actually see you before. Skate always claimed you were busy with "work" (something he never really clarified, Coil kinda just assumed you were like. a cashier. maybe a barista.) but Coil figured you just weren't all that interested in getting involved in your brother's crime ring, he couldn't blame you for that. That was up until he saw your room and realized, yes, you were drowning in work, near literally.

-He didn't even think it was your actual room, he just thought it was some little workspace. The walls were covered in all different kinds of tools, case-fulls of screwdrivers sat haphazardly in towering stacks, covering up blueprints for various customers of yours. You were in the middle of it all, hardly even noticing Skate had come in until he snuck up behind you to cage you in a headlock. You two barely got through introductions before you were swatting at each other, shoving and kicking at the others shins. Coil was too stunned to even care, busy analyzing every heap of bolts and scrap metal.

-By the time you could get something other than 'fuck off' out, he already had a million questions about what you did, an amount that'd only double when you revealed you modified gears for a living (and some generic repair work for home appliances, but that was less cool so you brushed over it as quickly as possible). Skate almost had to physically drag Coil out of the room just to get him to stop pestering you with questions, complaining that they'd be late to some meeting later that night if they didn't head out. Rest assured Coil was knocking on your door with a stupid grin as soon as they got back that night.

-He loves that he can talk freely and you just get him, he doesn't have to explain all the work he's done and all the effort he's put into his gear because you've done the exact same hundreds of times over (Maybe not to the same level but y'know). It's those conversations that he cherishes the most, even as they slowly drift further and further from gear and towards your personal lives.

-He's not one to share that much, he likes to keep his hand close to his chest, it's just safer that way. Something about you makes him lose his guard, though, he finds that all his barriers dissolve before he can even notice. The words spill out of his mouth before he can process them leaving in the first place- if you were some secret double agent, he'd probably be cooked. The thought only makes him laugh. He brings it up one night, insisting he could beat you up and take you down before you could even think of ratting him out, you only laugh and kick his leg in response, he hits your shoulder back, gently as he can manage. The conversation dies as soon as it starts, leaving you two in a comfortable silence.

-As much as he loves talking to you, he equally adores just spending time with you, not even directly interacting. You two just sitting next to each other working on something is enough for him. It tells him he's not alone and provides him with some grounding comfort. Something about your presence just pushes him to keep going. He covers it up with little competitions where you two bicker the whole time and then forget to decide on a winner, focusing more on shooting back playful insults and snickering over them in turn.

-Unfortunately, you're not safe from him pushing you to get stronger. It's not because he wants to change you or push you into a life of crime or phighting (God knows he would probably kill his reputation if he had to phight against you, he wouldn't hear the end of it), he just wants you to be safe. He wants to protect you but he also knows he can't always be there not without dragging you on goose chases you clearly don't have an interest in, he couldn't force that kind of lifestyle onto you. So, instead, he settles for helping you build up some muscle, pointing out weak spots and techniques you can use to your advantage. You might not be anywhere near his level, but he always tells you you're improving, that he's proud of you. He'll critique you and tell you where you messed up, but he won't dog on you, he wants you to know he's doing this out of care. You might fall down but he'll be there to pick you up every single time, no matter what.

-There's no real "will you be my partner" talk, your relationship just grows tighter and tighter with time. You can consider the "start" of it to be the first time you kissed, some night you guys spent out on the town laughing in the rain, or some night where he sought you out too exhausted to talk. No matter what it is, know that you have a sole place in his heart, a rent free existence in his head.

-aw how cute. skate mock gags whenever you two are sappy #D1HATER (he is happy for you guys but Why My Best Friend And My Sibling Dog)

[the-whispers-of-death]

Me: Okay, my brain hurts. No more imagines Simon "Ghost" Riley: *staring into my eyes* ..... More Imagines Me: ..Fine...

So imagine here with me: You're a homebody, a recluse (maybe because of your time in the military or maybe you're just a civilian), and Simon is your next door neighbor. You two don't talk, you get all of your groceries delivered and stuff so you don't even go out so you have zero idea about how intimidating Simon can look.

Until he one day knocks on your door and you finally meet him. Maybe he's a mammoth of a man compared to your shorter stature or maybe he's either the same height as you or you're taller, but he still manages to catch your interest either way. He asks you for a screwdriver or a hammer, saying that the neighbor to the other side of him has never given back the hammer/screwdriver he gave the neighbor as a kind gesture and now he needs to fix something in his apartment with a hammer/screwdriver. He says it in a way where there's really no refusing his request, and so you give it to him.

You never except for him to give it back to you but then the next day, you're (pleasantly) surprised when he knocks on the door with a gruff thank you before handing you back the tool he had borrowed. You think that's that and continue on being a recluse, but then he's suddenly knocking on your door every so often, asking for tools (he could just buy a new one, but then he wouldn't have an excuse to see you).

It gets to the point where every time he comes back with the tool to return it, he always manages to worm himself inside the flat, talking to you. You don't mind it, not really, because he listens to all your interests, your ramblings about your favorite books and tv shows. You get so comfortable with him that you accept his offers to cook you a thank-you meal for lending him your tools, even if it means you have to go into his flat for it. And inside his flat are copies of your favorite books and dvd collections of all of your favorite shows so that you keep coming there, because he's not intending on letting you go.

Reblogs are welcomed & appreciated!