#single!dad headcanons

[toovaeloe]

single dads club !!!!!!

single dads club..!

[zvdvdlvr]

‘mama’ + Spencer Reid

Author’s note: This gif made me think of single dad!Spencer for some reason.

     “Whaddaya got, little love?” You ask Louisa as she runs over to where you were laying with Spencer on the couch. Spencer draws random equations and shapes on your back (it soothes you even though you don’t actually know what he’s tracing) as the television plays the movie ‘Interstellar’ quietly- a favorite of yours.

     Louisa brandishes a mildly crinkled paper and shoces it into your faces. “I drew us!” She points to a tall stick figure with a brown curly mop for hair, saying: “That’s you, daddy.” She points to the littlest stick figure on the paper with black lines (arms) connecting to the end of Soencer’s black line arm on the paper to another adult sized stick figure labeled ‘Mommy’. 

     “That’s me,” Louisa informs the two of you solemnly as she points to the littlest figure. She has her dad’s curly brown hair in the picture.

     You hold your breath. You had been dating Spencer for almost a year now. Louisa was his perfect baby girl from a pregnancy with a woman he’d gotten to comfortable with. The thing was, Louisa hadn’t called you ‘mom’ yet, always sticking with y/n/n- something she started saying after hearing Spencer call you that once. Truthfully, you were fine with little Lou calling you by your name. Even though she didn’t know her real mommy, you didn’t want to force her to call you mom. It was a whole mess of emotions, really, but you wanted Louisa to feel comfortable calling you her mother instead of feeling obligated.

     So when she did point at the smiling stick figure with (your colored hair) and a big smile and say, “That’s you, mama!” you felt your heart swell.

     “That’s beautiful, Lou,” you told her with a shaking voice. You reached over and brushed a curl behind her hair.

     Spencer felt a similar surge in his chest as he watched his little girl smile brightly at her ‘mama’. “Go put it on the fridge,” he told her. “Then come back and snuggle with us.”

     You waited until Louisa left the room to look up at Spencer with teary eyes. “Did you-? Are you-? I love that girl so much,” you whispered to him as you reached up to wrap your arms around his neck and bury your nose into is chest. “She called me mama, Spence. You heard it right?”

     Spencer’s large hands came to settle on your waist. “I heard it, angel, I heard it. She was actually calling you that the other day.” At your disbelieving gasp, he laughed. “She said, ‘Daddy, is mama going to have dinner with us again?’ and I asked her who mama was and she rolls her eyes and goes ‘y/n, daddy. Who else?’”

     An embarrassingly tearful laugh escapes you. “I’m going to cry,” you state. 

     “You already are,” Spencer points out, making you sigh exasperatedly. “I’m just saying that you are!”

     “Louisa! Daddy’s being mean to me!” You shout loudly, hearing loud shrieks of laughter followed by giggling. “Hurry up so we can tickle him!”

     “Don’t be mean to mama, daddy!” Louisa screams as she barrels into the room. She takes a flying leap and you catch her in your arms. “You said the being mean is bad,” reprimanded the little girl. 

     You could see Spencer trying not to laugh as Louisa wags her finger at him. “I didn’t do anything, Lou-girl!”

     “Don’t listen to him, Louisa! He was saying how mama smelled bad!” You tell her, holding her close in your arms. “I think we should tickle him, Lou…”

     The little girl squirms in your arms as she giggles deviously. “I think we should tickle you, daddy,” she says. You don’t have a moment to think before she flies out of your arms and starts jabbing her fingers into Spencer’s torso.

     You almost fall backwords with laughter as Louisa immediately is rendered immobile when Spencer retaliates. The brown-haired, laughing blurs in fromt of you are your whole world and you couldn’t be more grateful for moments like these.

[loganhowlettshousewife]

the librarian

logan howlett x latina!reader

summary: after the events of logan (2017), in a world where logan survives, he and laura move to a small town to start a new life. laura quickly becomes very attached to the librarian, and seeing you with his daughter makes logan fall hard.

warnings: swearing, insecurity on logan's part, potentially slightly out of character but i’m choosing to believe that logan softens up a bit after laura

this is the longest oneshot i've ever written so please be kind because it took a lot of time. my first language is not english, so please do not be rude when offering feedback. i am also not latina, so feel free to offer constructive criticism if you notice anything wrong in the fic.

special thank you to @raeinyourdreams for the spanish dialogue.

series masterlist - my masterlist

you love your job. the library is quiet, peaceful, and you spend every day surrounded by your favourite thing: books. those who come to the library are typically kind, hardly do you have to deal with rude comments or entitled behaviour. you get to plan fun events for the towns kids and toddlers to introduce them to the joys of reading. and on every school day, between 3:00 and 4:00 pm, you get to see laura howlett.

the first time she came into the library, it wasn’t planned. you live in a small town, with an even smaller school, and when laura’s dad failed to show up on time to pick her up, she was sent over to the library next door. she’d stomped through the automatic doors, her small frame tense with irritation, her jaw clenched, slamming her bag down on the ground beside her as she sat down at one of the small circular tables set up in a corner of the small building.

she crossed her arms and stared at the door as if her dad might finally show up if she thought about it hard enough, never sparing you a second glance. so you’d left her alone to stew in her rage, putting away books from the return pile, glancing at the clock every few minutes.

you couldn’t hide your staring when her (extremely attractive) dad finally showed up, heavy footfalls crossing the doorstep and thick, tanned biceps filling your vision. laura cursed at him in rapid spanish, and he grumbled that he didn’t understand a word she was saying. you giggled to yourself at the thought that you never would have gotten away with using such language at her age.

the next time you saw her was a week later, and this time, despite her heavy glare and intense ‘don’t talk to me’ attitude, you approached her. her gaze was suspicious and distrusting as you spoke, asking her in your native tongue if she wanted a book to read while she waited. she’d stared at you for a long minute before saying, “¿hablas español?”

she slowly opened up to you after that, like a flower blossoming in the springtime, short sentences turning into longer rants, into admittance of her inner thoughts and worries and struggles. you give her book recommendations that are popular within her age group and help her with her homework when she struggles with the material, translating words she doesn't understand perfectly. in return, she tells you about her school and home life, about how she’d moved here with her dad, about how she’s only really known him a few months.

you don’t know her past, only the glimpses she’s given you here and there, anecdotes she drops into conversations before changing the subject just as quickly, but you know that she’s struggled with adjusting to all the changes in her life. you’re grateful that she’s allowed you such insight into her mind, that you can help her even in small ways. you can’t help it - she’s wormed her way into your heart, with her quick quips and short temper and snide comments.

“¿crees que mi papá es guapo?” she asks you suddenly. it’s an evening like any other, the two of you working through her science homework together. you choke on your saliva as an image of logan howlett flashes through your mind, his stern face and the hard intensity of his eyes, his large stature and broad back that you always watch, entranced, when he walks out of the library with laura in tow.

“¿por qué preguntas?” you ask her instead of answering as you erase a mistake on her paper, blowing away the leftover scraps the eraser leaves behind.

“las mamás de thea estaban hablando de lo guapo que es.” laura replies, a grimace twisting her face. her eyes narrow as she observes your carefully blank expression. “¿tu opinas igual?”

you shake your head, clacking your tongue against your teeth, “mejor concéntrate en tu tarea.”

the howletts live two houses down from you, on a street of mismatched suburban houses and carefully manicured lawns. sometimes you’ll see logan outside, smoking a cigar on the porch in a thin wife-beater that shows off his large arms, watchful gaze observing the neighbourhood as though surveying the area for potential threats. 

he seems oblivious to the stares he receives from both women and men passing by, walking their dogs or going for a jog, faltering when they pass his house, interest and attraction and jealousy, staring for a few moments too long to be casual. he never gives any of them the time of day, doesn’t respond to their small-talk questions or smiles. his frown just deepens, putting emphasis on the lines that mark his face, a physical manifestation of a life of constant worry and pain.

you’re admiring him from afar as you often do, peering through the window above your sink as you rinse your dishes, when you notice a gorgeous woman approaching his house. she’s all long legs and glowing dark skin, walking right up to him with all the confidence in the world.

and logan howlett, the brooding, mysterious man who keeps to himself and hardly interacts with anyone unless absolutely necessary, smiles at her. it’s a barely-there expression, a softening of his usual gruff persona and resting bitch face, but you notice it nonetheless. the woman is clearly emboldened by his response and leans into his space as she speaks, pressing a hand to his bicep, skin against skin, mouth moving in words you can’t hear.

you look away, pulling the curtains closed on the window, preferring to watch the pale fabric sway slightly than whatever interaction is happening there. you scrub your dishes a little harder than necessary after that, but no one is there to see it but you.

laura packs up her bag, shoving the papers inside randomly, no reason or order to it. you grit your teeth at the thought of how wrinkled and disorganised it’ll all be later, when she needs to find something specific or when it comes time to hand in her work to her teacher, but you keep your mouth diligently shut, because if there’s one thing you know about laura, it’s that she’s stubborn and temperamental and doesn’t take well to criticism.

logan stands beside the front desk, not far from where you’re flipping through the pile of books that had been returned while you were busy with laura, his hands on his hips as he watches her somehow both rush through the task and simultaneously take much too long to complete it. there’s obvious adoration in his eyes, a fondness that can’t be faked by the best of actors.

“do you-,” he starts, stops, an unfinished question that lasts a few seconds while he chases the right words, “laura really likes havin’ you around. talks about you a lot when you’re gone. so i - uh - wanted to invite you over to dinner. no pressure.”

you beam, books all but forgotten, “really?”

he grunts in response, shrugging. it’s not much as far as responses go, not terribly enthusiastic, but he wouldn’t have brought it up to you if he was against the idea, you assume. so you place a hand on his arm, more for your sake than his, enjoying the feeling of his sun-warmed skin and the smooth dark hair against your fingertips, catching his attention so his eyes fall on you instead of laura.

you think of the woman you’d seen speaking to him a few days ago, and a thrill runs through you, a stupidly possessive thrill that you have no right to feel. there’s nothing going on between you and logan, just mutual care for a troubled girl who hasn’t made any friends in school even after weeks.

this is for her, you tell yourself. to make sure she has a support system, people she trusts, to hopefully get her to open herself up to the possibility of other relationships, friendships with children her age who can help her learn what it means to let go and be a child for a bit. but in your mind, there’s still a rather large part of you preening at the fact that you’re going to have dinner at the howlett’s, and you bet that other woman can’t say the same.

“just let me know when,” you say, “i’m not typically very busy so whatever works on your schedule.”

“¿podría ser hoy?” laura asks, bounding up to the two of you, “porfis.”

you can’t say no to her wide eyes and hopeful smile, so you close up the library early. it’s fine, you live in a small town and no one ever really visits the library late at night anyway. the only person who may want to visit has her own key, a copy you’d made after finding the same teenage girl sleeping on the floor of the library six days in a row, having broken into the building each time.

it’s a short walk to the howlett’s house, laura talking your ear off the entire way there, ignoring the looks logan shoots her when she inevitably switches into spanish seemingly without noticing. but you know what it’s like to speak more than one language, you know the way conversations flit in and out between languages, and you can tell it’s often purposeful, done to get a rise out of logan.

“it’s good that you can understand her,” logan says as he unlocks the front door, his daughter running into the house and leaving the two of you behind, “i can’t, half the time. probably makes me sound like a shit dad.”

“it doesn’t,” you assure him, “laura talks about you all the time when you’re not around and she thinks you’re wonderful. she said you’ve only been in her life a few months? you can’t be expected to learn a whole language in that time.”

logan ignores your praise just as you’d expected him to do, “i think you remind her of home. it was fucked up but there were good parts. and i took her away from there. i did it for her but she still had to leave everythin’ and everyone she knew.”

“i’ll gladly be that piece of home if she needs it,” you say softly, “you got her out of a bad place. i don’t know much but i know that. her home is wherever you are.”

talking to logan is frighteningly easy, and the conversation continues as he heads into the kitchen. their house is nice, clean but sparsely decorated, not the artfully minimalist look of a magazine cover but rather the home of someone who never really knew how to settle down, how to allow a place to become more than just a shell, a temporary refuge to eventually be left behind. it screams logan, and makes you wonder what exactly he’s been through. 

but laura’s things are strewn around the place, a jacket of hers thrown on the couch, comic books that have seen better days piled on the coffee table, school papers on the countertop. it chases away the cold feeling that would otherwise linger between these walls.

you help logan cook, not willing to stand around doing nothing while you wait for the food to be ready. you admit to him that you’re surprised at his talent in the kitchen, and for a moment his jaw tenses like he’s going to tell you something difficult but he doesn’t. his arm brushes against yours as you hand him the spices that he requests, and goosebumps raise on your arms at the feeling.

laura eats like she hasn’t had food in days, and says the meal tastes better because you helped make it, which makes you laugh and logan roll his eyes. chiding laura on her table manners reminds you of your childhood, and an image flashes in your mind, unbidden, of you in this very same setting but as laura’s mother and logan’s wife.

it’s a vision you push away, one you’ll allow to linger as you’re falling asleep but that has no place in your thoughts now.

“next time we should do this at my house,” you comment, without really thinking over your words, your attention on laura and logan’s hand that lingers close to your thigh under the table, not touching you but present enough to offer a good distraction, “to make things fair, i mean.”

“next time?” logan repeats, and you falter, realising what you’d offered. there’s a familiarity in the way you’d made the offer, a throwaway comment, a familiarity that doesn’t exist between you and logan - at least not yet.

“if you’d want,” you offer slowly, “and if laura wants. i just - had fun tonight. it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to do it again.”

and you do. approximately once a week you start to have dinner with the howletts, switching between their place and yours. they’re a familiar presence in your life now, enough that you don’t startle when one of them sneaks up behind you, impossibly light on their feet, the stealth of hunters stalking their prey. you’d told this to logan and he’d raised an eyebrow at you and smirked but refused to explain his reaction to your words.

you start to teach logan recipes from your childhood, the sweet spices and flavours that bring you back to being laura’s age filling the kitchen. you argue with logan about not needing a recipe, saying you just know when it’s right.

though she never comments on it, you see the way laura’s smile brightens every time you place a dish on the table. you hope it brings her a modicum of comfort, reminds her of her place of birth the way it always does for you.

you haven’t felt so free in a long time, and you come to the belated realisation that you’ve been lonely lately, something you can only differentiate now that you feel it shifting. you love your friends but they have busy lives of their own, and you love your library but books can’t compensate for human contact, try as you might. 

“te noto estresada,” laura comments, poking your hand when you stare off into space for the third time that day.

“lo estoy,” you respond, “se averió una tubería y ahora tengo que llamar al plomero, pero no quiero..”

most kids wouldn’t care to have a conversation about these more monotonous, adult subjects, but laura pauses in her homework to give it a genuine reflection. she taps the eraser-end of her pencil against the table, nodding to herself like she’s just come up with an obvious solution.

“no tienes que. mi papá sabe reparar cosas,” she says, “pídele el favor.”

you hate to take advice from a child, even if that child is laura, who often acts much older than her age, and you hate to bother logan even more, but you don’t make much as a librarian and if there’s any way to save some extra money, you’re willing to embarrass yourself in front of the hot man you may have a slight crush on. 

you broach the topic when he comes to pick her up as usual, and to your surprise, he agrees easily. you don’t even have to ask the question, as soon as he’s heard the problem he’s offering up his help.

he shows up at your house later that night, deeming it fine to leave laura home alone since there’s only a 40% chance she’ll break something. he’s dressed in only a thin wife-beater, biceps on full display as he hunches under your sink, the muscles in his back flexing as he works. you stay in the kitchen, using the excuse that you should make sure he’s not making it worse, but spend the entire time staring at the shape of him, large and broad and everything you want.

“thank you,” you tell him when he’s finished, handing him a beer that you’d bought specifically for when he showed up at your place.

“no problem,” he says, shrugging, not making eye contact with you in a way that’s uncharacteristic of him, “no point havin’ you pay someone to do it when i can do it just fine.”

“but you had no obligation to help me,” you remind him softly.

“you help me all the time,” he responds gruffly, “you deal with laura’s shit and don’t complain. you spend time with us even if you got your own life to worry about. it’s only fair.”

you frown at that, “i enjoy spending time with you, logan. it’s not a favour of some kind that you have to repay.”

he grunts an acknowledgement that you don’t quite believe, quiet as he finishes the rest of his beer, and then he’s gone.

it’s hard not to know everyone in a small town, forcing you to make polite small talk with people you walk by who ask about your life and your family and friends and how’s your job going? it’s frustrating, one of the reasons you plan your errands for later in the evening, when the crowds are thinner and most of the people in the grocery store are people like you, who don’t want to be bothered, and teenagers wreaking havoc in the aisles.

you’re looking at fruit when you hear someone call your name, a voice that’s not immediately familiar, which raises alarm bells in your mind, the sound crescendoing into a siren as the click-clack of heels approaches. you resolutely keep your eyes in front of you, hoping that if you look very busy choosing avocados, perhaps you won’t be bothered.

this technique fails immediately, a woman coming up to your side and picking up the avocado you’d just put back, squeezing it to check if it’s ripe. the act is innocent, trying to put you at ease, but you know better. if she was just here to grab groceries she wouldn’t have called out your name, wouldn’t be tilting her head towards you with a saccharine smile.

you’ve seen her around, though you can’t remember her name, an older woman with two boys whose divorce was the talk of the town for a few months last year. from afar she appears put-together, dressed in business-casual attire indicating that she hadn’t had the time to change from her work clothes, blonde hair slicked back into a bun. but up close you can see the strands of hair that had begun falling out, the way her eyes were tight at the corners. a tired single mother.

you feel a pang of guilt at the way you’d immediately wanted to dismiss her, remind yourself that you have the day off tomorrow so you can sleep in, and smile at her.

“so, i heard a rumour, and you know i’m not one to gossip,” she glances your way expectantly, so you prompt her to continue, “which is why i’m asking you directly. you and logan howlett… do you have something going on?”

you pause, considering. it wouldn’t be a lie to say yes, as there is something going on between you and logan, though you know how she’ll interpret the words. you know that she would return home and immediately call everyone she knows to spread the news, and since the townspeople hadn’t left logan alone since he’d moved here, it would eventually spread to him, someone or another asking him about it, pressing for details.

“we’re… friends,” you settle on eventually, “i help laura with her homework sometimes after school and we got to know each other from that.”

it’s a truthful answer, if not deliberately vague. you hate to be the center of drama or attention - there’s a reason you chose to work at a library, quiet and unassuming and not interesting enough to be the subject of speculation.

she giggles, a true laugh, her expression softening with a hint of relief. she bumps you with her shoulder as if speaking to a longtime friend and says, “well, just between you and me, i know a lot of women who are going to be relieved to hear that.” 

you and logan grow closer, to the point where laura no longer initiates most of the time you spend together. you introduce him to your favourite movies when he mentions how long it’s been since he watched one, evenings spent giggling at the television screen while laura sleeps upstairs, having gone to bed long ago.

hours pass so quickly with logan by your side, until the sky resembles a painting, and he walks you home under the constellations of stars. he hangs by the door for a while longer, the both of you drifting, not quite ready to part ways, but you both have jobs in the morning and so you reluctantly bid him goodnight, letting the door to your home shut behind you, hiding the way you beam when he says it back.

dinner comes and goes like any other week, and soon enough you’re standing in logan’s kitchen helping him clean the dishes. this is the part where laura leaves the two of you alone, not wanting to be dragged into the chore, slipping out in that creepily silent way of hers.

there’s a tension that clings to logan tonight, a darkness that’s permeated over the evening, one you’d noticed when he’d come to pick up laura from the library and had almost said something to you but stopped. it wasn’t unusual for logan to be silent, letting you fill the majority of the conversation with your stories and laughter, responding with comments that make you laugh, proud smiles tugging on his lips when your body curls into him.

you’re not surprised when he puts the final dish in the washing machine and turns to face you, something akin to determination in his eyes, though you hardly know anything that could be the cause.

“another parent asked me out today,” he says, “the mom of someone in laura’s class.”

“oh,” you say, certain being stabbed in the heart would hurt less. you’re suddenly slightly nauseous, and you briefly consider using it as an excuse to go home early, but you’re not a coward. you won’t run from a conversation that’s inevitable.

one day logan will meet someone, whether that day is today you aren’t sure, and he’s going to fall for them. you consider the possibility that that person could be you, but you’re normally good at reading people, at seeing the subtleties in body language to indicate attraction, and logan has never given you any signs of your feelings for him being reciprocated.

it could be that he’s generally just a difficult person to read, that over the course of his life he’s had to learn to bury his emotions in a way many people don’t. it’s possible, believable even, with how long it had taken you to learn the intricacies of his expressions, the way the slightest tension between his brows could mean several different things. or, you think, he’s just not into you.

“is that good?” you ask, instead of voicing your current thoughts, which are a mantra of: fuck, fuck, no, fuck, please no.

“no,” he replies like it should be obvious, “her son is an asshole who tried to bully laura on her first day of school. she punched him.”

“good for her,” is your only reply.

you feel awful for the way his vehement denial makes you feel, a pleased warmth spreading in your stomach, a happiness you’ll carry with you all the way home. it’s not your place, and yet here you are, hoping that he doesn’t find love, thinking that you’d rather he be alone forever than with someone other than you. it’s selfish, cruel, makes it hard to keep your expression neutral over the disgust you feel at yourself rising.

logan’s watching you carefully, “it is good for her. she almost got suspended but i think even the principal was afraid of her.”

the conversation pitters out, your answering hum the only reply you can give with your mind wandering. it’s the perfect time to ask, the conversation relevant enough that it won’t be coming out of nowhere, a casual query that he can refuse to answer if he so desires.

“but otherwise,” you say, “if there was no history between her son and laura and she’d asked you out, what would you have said?”

“no,” he says again. quick, easy, painless and yet horribly painful for you.

“is there anyone in town that you’ve noticed?” you ask because you can’t help yourself, the pull of curiosity is too strong, almost as strong as the pull that always brings you into logan’s orbit when you stand close enough, bringing you unconsciously closer.

there’s a pause long enough to make your heart race, the beat so loud you can hear it ringing in your ears, a hard rhythm that’s much too rapid to be healthy. you wonder what logan can see on your face, following the way his impassive gaze traces over you, catching on your eyes and the quirk of your mouth.

when he speaks at last you can hardly hear it over the rushing sound of your anxiety. “i’ve noticed you.”

“what?”

“you,” he repeats, shrugging like it doesn’t matter, “but i’m old and worn. too much for a pretty thing like you. and there’s so much you don’t know about my life, horrible shit i’ve done that’ll make you look at me different. i’m angry and violent and i drink too much to deal with my emotions, even if i’ve cut back since laura. and her, laura. i got a kid now. can’t force that responsibility onto you too.”

you lift a hand up, silently asking him to stop, to allow you time to process the words you’re fairly certain were not a hallucination. he refuses to look at you, jaw clenched, staring instead at his hands the way one would stare at a murder weapon, an angry glare that speaks of hatred, pain and resentment.

it’s that look that makes the decision for you. you place your hand on top of his, dark glare now pointed at your hand, faltering when your fingers trace the grooves between his knuckles. you allow him a moment of silence to process, content to wait now that your mind is no longer racing, overthinking every breath and creating unlikely scenarios. rather, you feel calm, and you hope that the way you squeeze his hand transfers some of that peace to him.

“is this your version of asking me out?” you ask when his eyes lock on yours, a raging storm hiding behind the calm facade of his careful mask, “because normally people don’t try to convince the other person to say no.”

“i’m not asking anything,” he replies, voice hoarse, “i know how i feel about you. but i’m a mess and i can’t ask you to deal with that.”

“alright, well, even if you’re not asking this is me saying yes,” you tell him, turning his hand so his palm faces up, lacing your fingers together, skin still slightly damp from the washing you’d been doing.

he doesn’t let go of your hand, but he changes the subject. you don’t argue. logan has some sort of feelings for you, though he hasn’t put them into clear words, and for now, that’s enough. you can wait while he wades through whatever self-hatred spiral is happening in his mind, the excuses he’ll give you for why you can’t be together. because he was holding back before, when he’d explained why he wasn’t good enough for you. he’d forced himself to stop talking, but you can tell there’s more behind that angry rant.

so instead of pushing, you let the rest of the evening pass as it usually would, playing monopoly with laura, her temper rising when the game doesn’t go her way, cussing at the board in spanish. she’s creative with her insults and you press your lips together tightly to hold back a laugh. you’re certain logan knows what she’s saying, or can at least make an educated guess, but he doesn’t comment on it.

she heads upstairs when she loses, stomping her feet down on every step, a strange contrast to how she often moves like a shadow. you’re content to let her walk away, knowing the anger isn’t real - she’ll grumble and stew in the loss for a bit before moving on as she always does.

“you need to know what you’re getting into,” logan says, and it takes you a while to piece together what he means, your earlier conversation pushed to the back of your mind during monopoly. “if you agree to this and then realise it’s too much and leave - i don’t think laura’d be able to handle it.”

there’s an unspoken, and me, in the way he watches you, vulnerable, something logan loathes to be. so you wrap your arms around him, not for the first time, but it hasn’t yet lost its novelty. you feel his body heat despite the layers of clothing separating the two of you from making direct skin-to-skin contact, sighing in pleasure as you relax with your head on his chest.

“we’re not strangers logan,” you say, “i know who you are, how you treat me, how you treat your daughter. and if more of this is what it’s like to date you, to be with you, i don’t see myself leaving.”

diversity december taglist: @raeinyourdreams @meetmypointlessaddiction @chubbyhedgehog @yxtkiwiyxt @isepod @dis-plus-fanfic-reblog-writes

latina!reader taglist: @naggywaggy @mami-veracruz @spencerswh0r3 @gl1ndathegoodwitch @taextannie

[lilislegacy]

okay here are my own personal headcanons on pjo/hoo characters having kids, assuming certain couples stay together and no one dies. also my thoughts are subject to change lol.

percy and annabeth have three (mostly) planned kids, starting when they’re in their mid to late 20s and spanning about 5-6 years. and then another one comes along when they’re like 40. (total accident). a couple boys, a couple girls - all sassy hyperactive geniuses running around causing mass chaos 24/7. then when their bio kids are mostly grown and out of the house, they foster demigod kids who don’t have homes. i can also see them being in their like 50s and fully adopting a little demigod baby who doesn’t have a family (because they have plenty of love to give). basically at every stage of their life, their house is always chaotic, loud, and full of safe and loved kids. they are parents to anyone who needs them

grover and juniper are gonna have like 7 kids or something. their own little school of children. and all super close together, which is ironic since they don’t have the strict timeline that humans do.

frank and hazel have exactly one kid, probably in their mid 20s. and they are SO happy with their one. the kid is calm, sweet, quiet, and smart. much better behaved than most demigods (although there could be a rebellious phase in the teen years)

nico and will adopt one or two, maybe a set of siblings, but not until they’re in their 40s. because i feel like nico thinks he never wants kids, but then over time, he realizes he does. plus he wants to do it for will.

piper doesn’t want kids. she thought she did at first, mainly because she felt like she was supposed to, but as she gets older she realizes she loves the freedom of not being a full time parent. she can pop in, be fun aunt piper to all her friends’ kids, and then leave. and she’s super happy that way.

i think leo would be scared as fuck to be a dad, and never plan on it, but i can see him having a singular daughter. definitely not planned. maybe even naming her after his mom. i really see leo being a single dad for some reason, idk why or how though. but he would be awesome. he’d expect his daughter to be all troubled and messed up like him, but she turns out amazing (because she has an awesome dad)

[turtleblogatlast]

Tackled it partially here, but I love the idea of Draxum knowing little extra details about the boys from before they were mutated. Things like “you liked strawberries”, “you were four times faster than others of your species”, “you tried to eat Huginn and Muninn”, “you were way too sentient for a regular turtle it was actually kind of freaky in retrospect did the proximity to Empyrean have something to do with it-“

Little details that pop up over the years, and while sometimes the boys (mainly Mikey) will ask for more information out of curiosity, most of the time the info just sort of comes out randomly. It’s not like Draxum had them all too long, but he still finds himself remembering their pre mutated turtle selves vividly, even after all these years.

The boys ask Splinter if he too has baby stories of them to share and he’s just like “I love you boys but you were hellions.”

[rookflower]

a lot of "why are we hating on fernsong he's a good boy :(" energy pops up whenever people start getting more critical or petty about ivyfern but it's like. no i truly get it. he is her personalityless nothingburger heteronormative husband she was unceremoniously slapped together with for next gen kids, and the fandom LOVES him because of one scene that implies the bare minimum of decent fatherhood (not even shown on screen. doesnt come to fruition) that suddenly means their offscreen relationship is queering up gender norms or whatever and the best leap for feminism in the series. if i was an ivypool stan id be bitter about that too wtf

[illmoraineakoi]

As much as I adore the idea of Alan being like a dad to the Color Gang, I am absolutely feral for interpretations where that’s not really the case.

Or, more specifically, when those feelings are very one sided.

The CG look up to him and adore him as a parental/guardian figure, loving him almost like a father, especially Orange in particular who 110% sees and loves Alan as a father figure, while Alan himself sees himself more as a tolerant friendly landlord; just a dude who’s letting five stick figures live on his computer and not really interacting with them (except for Orange) very much beyond playing a few games for them or sparring with them. And even with Orange, it’s more of a friendship relationship than a parent-child one. Just generally pretty emotionally detached/distant towards them, not really feeling very strongly about any of them. Sort of how IRL Alan speaks about them as characters; fond, but not loving*. He still largely just sees them as stick figures. Like smart little living desktop pets.

Which makes all of the potential scenarios where they meet on more equal grounds (Stick!Alan AUs and IRL!Sticks/Human!Sticks AUs) potentially very juicy.

The CG and Orange in particular are always very excited to meet and actually interact with Alan, and Alan just feels overwhelmed and awkward by all the affection/attention. Or perhaps even confused about why they seem to like him so much.

Which can very quickly turn into a situation where the Gang notices that Alan doesn’t seem very comfortable around them, that he’s not nearly as excited and enthusiastic about finally being able to touch and hug them as they are with him. That he seemed to be kind of distant from them, withdrawing away from them. Oh, he’s friendly and polite, and he’ll talk to them, he’s not being mean or ignoring them or anything, but it’s not really like how they always imagined meeting him would be. It’s not as happy and joyous. He doesn’t interact/engage with them on his own. Doesn’t offer hugs or pats or much affection at all. He’ll do it if they initiate or ask, but he never gives anything of the sort freely.

Perhaps they think it’s because everything is so new and fresh, that maybe he’s feeling a bit overwhelmed. Maybe he just needs a little time to get used to them.

But when they give him that time…nothing seems to change. And they’re just left even more confused and concerned. Why was he acting like this? He was never like this before… (or so they think.)

Or perhaps a situation occurs where it’s revealed that Orange sees him like a father, or perhaps Orange even calls him his father, and Alan denies it. Corrects him. Tells Orange that he’s not his parental figure, that he always thought they were just friends. That all of them were just a bunch of sticks he was letting live on his computer. He wasn’t their dad, where in the world did they get THAT weird idea from? He was just Alan, the owner of the computer they made their home on. He barely even knew them.

And the Gang is both shocked and heartbroken. They hadn’t known Alan felt that way, just as Alan hadn’t been aware of how they felt. It was so easy for misunderstandings and misinterpretations to happen between them when they couldn’t really communicate very well.

But Orange, Orange is devastated. It hurts, so bad, because Alan literally created him. Alan was his creator, the closest thing to an actual parent he had. And yet Alan didn’t want to fill that role towards him, didn’t want to be his father. He could have seen and understood Alan not considering himself the others’ parent, since Alan hadn’t made them, but Orange was undeniably his.

But Alan didn’t want him like that. Didn’t see him like that.

He was just a stick figure who frequently helped him animate and lived on his computer. The fact that Alan made him appeared to be irrelevant.

So Orange puts on a smile and accepts it, apologizing for misunderstanding. But inside, he’s raw. The rejection feels so awful.

And it stings just how relieved Alan looked after his apology, like he was grateful that they weren’t arguing about it.

Because they don’t. What more was there to say? Alan had made his feelings on the matter very clear, and who were they to try argue against that? To challenge him, and demand he change his feelings towards them? To demand he love them? No, that’s not how things worked. That wasn’t how love worked.

You can’t try to force someone who doesn’t love you to love you.

Instead, Orange goes to his room, and sobs. It hurts so much. It feels like a chunk of his heart has been ripped out, leaving a giant empty gap where it had been. He can’t stop thinking about why Alan didn’t love him even though he made him. He can’t help but wonder if it’s because somehow he wasn’t good enough. Or if he’d done something wrong.

Or if it was because he was just a stick figure. Not human. Not a “real” person in Alan’s eyes.

He doesn’t know, but it hurts all the same.

The others, too, mourn the loss of the only parent-like figure they’ve ever known. They never knew their own creator, whoever the person who actually made them even was, they only ever knew Alan. It stings, how all of his weird recent behavior now makes sense. He hadn’t needed time. He had never loved them as much as they, apparently mistakenly, thought he did in the first place. It leaves them feeling empty and bereft, at a loss for what to do with themselves now.

And Alan is left totally oblivious to just how badly he’s just hurt them all.

And totally oblivious to what he himself has just lost, the potential for what could have been.

…At least, until he goes through some Character Development and inevitably has some Realizations that “Oh shit, those actually ARE my kids, oh fuck what have I done?!” And he needs to claw back the gangs’ love and affection and trust they’d since given up on.

* - [Or at least that’s how it always felt for me, watching AvG reactions, though that could just be because IRL Alan just sounds kinda bland and introverted in most of his commentary on his own animations lmao “I mean I like Orange.” Bro that is your main character that has been spearheading your entire career for a literal decade, why do you sound about as enthusiastic about him as if someone just asked you about your favorite weather type lmao jk jk]

[detectivestucks2]

Single Dad Toji

18+ content, Minors do NOT interact

Pairing: Toji x F!Reader

Summary: Toji sees you at the park with your kid while he was on a job and becomes obsessed with seducing you into weekly quickies in the back of his car

Warnings: NSFW, oral sex, toy usage, unprotected sex, anal play, cum feeding

Word Count: 1.9k

Single Dad Toji who spots you at the public park with your son while he was on a job. Your yoga pants perfectly hugging your hips, your ponytail poking through the back hole of your baseball cap. Your voice, sweet as candy when you call your son’s name. All of it distracting him from his mission.

Single Dad Toji who makes quick work of his assignment so he can circle back to the playground to find you. Only you’re gone. Not to worry, you’ll be back. You strike him as the kind of girl who has a routine, he’ll try again next week. 

Single Dad Toji who surprises Megumi with a visit, asking if he wants to go to the park and play? Excited, little six year old Fushiguro grabs his baseball mitt and hops in the car, ready to play catch and spend real time with his dad.

Single Dad Toji who is the picture-perfect father, hoping you’ll be around to see it. He plays catch, tag, even teaches Megumi a little about fighting. Then he spots you out of the corner of his eye. You’re back, this time in a different pair of yoga pants, your hair in a messy bun poking out the back of your cap, and a cropped shirt that his hands are dying to roam under. 

Single Dad Toji who clears his throat, “Megumi, you wanna head over to the playground now? Maybe join some of the other kids?” “Okay, Dad!” He watches Megumi’s little legs bolt toward the colorful structure as he shoves his hands in his pockets and strolls in your direction, ready to convince you to join him in his car while the kids are distracted.

Single Dad Toji who sits next to you. You weren’t paying attention at first but when his herculean figure sits down inches away from you, your eyes do a double take. He’s gorgeous. Is it even legal for him to be here? Don’t you have to be tired and ugly with a dad bod to bring your kid to the park? This guy looks like he just came from a weightlifting competition and he could pick you up with his pinky. 

Single Dad Toji who deeply murmurs, “Hey.” knowing he won’t have to say much more to win you over. You might be attractive but he can see you staring at him in his peripheral. The battle is won before it even begins. Your mesmerized face eventually manages to whisper ‘Hello” in response. “You come here often.” “Y-yeah, every week. You new to the area?” Knew it, you do keep a strict schedule. This will be fun. “You could say that. I don’t get out much.”

Single Dad Toji who smiles when you ask him, “Which one is yours?” He points out his son who’s his spitting image and pretends to not know which kid is yours. He’s just waiting for your name so he can do a thorough background check on you tonight. He wants to know everything. Who’s your kid’s father, how long you dated, are you married, divorced, where you work, Toji is nothing if not detailed when it comes to researching his prey and even if you don’t have a hit on your head, he's sure as hell hitting you from behind. 

Single Dad Toji who feels his chest swell when you ask the very question he’d been waiting for, “So where's Megumi’s mom?” He’s got you now. You’re in his snare and he’s not gonna let you go until he’s done toying with you, which you better believe won't be any time soon. 

Single Dad Toji who has you bobbing between his legs in the back seat of his SUV. The car spacious enough for you both, but cramped enough to keep you against him at all times. Your pretty mouth struggled to stretch around him and your throat is having an even harder time. However, that doesn’t stop him from grabbing you by your hair and shoving you down on him. You’re his little slut now, there’s no turning back. His hips buck up into your mouth as you gag and cough. Lewd wet sounds swirl through the silence making him twitch in your mouth. As much as he wants to be inside of you, he’s enjoying his sadistic game. He could do this to you for hours but he doesn’t know how long he has till Megumi notices he’s missing. With that thought, he releases you but wipes the drool from your mouth all over your whore face before pulling you up on the seat so he can piledrive into you.

Single Dad Toji who has you moaning and screaming as he stretches you wide. You’d think after giving birth, this would be easier but you swear the doctor must’ve sewn you up to be like new cause you feel like a virgin as he pummels into you. His hips crash into your backside so hard it not only rocks you, leaving you unsteady, but it makes the whole car shake. Surely someone is gonna tap on the window to let you know how obvious you’re being. 

Single Dad Toji who makes you cum twice before he allows himself to release. He wants to get back to Megumi but he wants to see you again. He needs to feel how your pretty pink insides squeeze around him while you make demonic orgasming sounds. You’re sexy as hell and he hasn’t had nearly enough time to explore you yet. He finishes with harsh slaps to your ass, turning it bright red with his strength before he chokes your neck. He can feel how you quiver around him as his seed pumps into your hole, possibly creating a sibling for Megumi. 

Single Dad Toji who continues to hold you by the neck, still on his cock, while he puts his number in your phone. He whispers instructions into your ear to send him a photo of your soaked underwear when you get home. He wants to see his cum dripping out of you and making a mess of your underwear. As he’s telling you this he pulls you up and dips two fingers in your cunt to scoop out some of his spend and shove it in your mouth. You hood your eyes and suck on the thick digits obediently, wishing he was inside you again. When he withdraws his fingers he gives you two light slaps on the cheek, “Good slut. Same time next week?”

Single Dad Toji who has you in the backseat of his car every week like clockwork. You're addicted to each other. All your mind thinks about is him and how he plays with you. You want him more than you’ve ever wanted anyone in your entire life. He knows your body and what makes you tick as if you’d been dating for a decade. He’s an expert in knowing precisely what to say to make you feel like his filthy sex slave, ready to serve him and all his desires. This week he has you wearing the remote vibrator. He turned it on the second he got to the park. You were still driving and it took you by surprise. Your son asked what ‘that humming sound’ is. You played it off as a fly that must be buzzing around and opened the door for him. Your son sprints to the jungle gym and plays with his new best friend, Megumi. As you walk towards his father, Toji, he pulls out his phone and increases the intensity of the vibe, the asshole. You stop dead in your tracks, unable to move from the pulsing that had you silently screaming for mercy.

Single Dad Toji who approaches you and grabs you by the arm, pulling you into his SUV. He strips off your pants and spits on your rear. “Wrong hole, Toji.” “No, it’s not. Your other hole is occupied. It’s time to take this one out for a test drive.” He drops another wad of spit on your back door then sinks his finger in and rims you, stretching you as you wait on all fours anticipating what’s to come while writhing from the shockwaves of the vibrator. Toes curling, core clenching, legs shaking, you're already overloaded before he sinks his fat tip into your rear. It’s uncomfortable at first but then as you loosen up, your inner demon surfaces. Only two strokes in and you’re cumming all over his back seat. Toji smirks, realizing this is gonna be fun. He begins to pound into your cute little hole, making you scream and shout filthy things. You chant his name, promising to be his little toy and do whatever he wants. He rocks into your A-spot so hard that you convulse, unable to speak as your eyes roll in your head. 

Single Dad Toji who can’t bring himself to stop, even after your body collapses. It’s too good, too tight, too warm. His shaft tingles as it rubs against the vibrator still whirring away in your other cavity. “T-t-toji, p…please. Mercy.” He chuckles at your orison. Like he’s gonna give you a break. Completely disregarding your plea he hammers home, hips snapping so hard you’re dizzy and have gone blind from pleasure. If you weren’t screaming before, you’re definitely screaming now. People probably think you’re being murdered but he can’t stop himself, he keeps pounding away until he breaks. Cum shoots out and paints your interior. He finally stills and notices that your body is in a crumpled ball, lifeless except for the twitch in your leg. A buzzing sound can be heard over his heavy panting when he realizes he never stopped the vibe. “Oh, sorry babe.” When he turns it off he sees your body go limp as if you took your last breath and knows he’s worn you out. You lazily roll over and stare up at him, your eyes constantly finding their way over to his mouth and that sexy scar he has on the corner of his lips. 

Single Dad Toji who grabs you at the base of your jaw and pulls you up to his face. His lips collide with yours in a breath-stealing kiss. You’re his perfect woman, his little slut, his secret whore, his obsession. When you get out of his car you’re about to pull away to pretend you’re just friendly parents bumping into each other when he sees how another man is watching your ass. You straighten the brim of your hat and move to walk toward the playground when Toji’s massive hand grabs your waist and pulls you into him. You look up at him shocked, then he drapes his heavy arm across your shoulders while he stares daggers into the man who now pretends to be watching his daughter lovingly. “What’s this?” you ask, surprised that Toji wants to show affection where the boys might see. “You’re mine. Others need to know.”

Single Dad Toji who doesn’t want to be single anymore. He has you blushing like a giddy schoolgirl as you walk over to the bench and sit together. Your shoulder tucked into his armpit and his hand squeezing your bicep, he can’t get over the idea of making things public. You’re his, officially, and it makes him smile to himself as the two of you watch your kids become stepbrothers.

Masterlist

[thinky-think-brainblast]

MORE DAD AANG, because it just keeps me going.

I have come to the conclusion in my head that airbenders literally have had to had the most angelic voices, they are the best singers by far compared to any nation and they don’t even have to try, it just comes with the territory. If an airbender decides to practice singing they can become even better, if they practice enough they can even use airbending to sing, which would allow them to do literally magic with their voices. So from this we can infer is that naturally Aang has to be a hell of a singer, even so he would much rather just stick with dancing (I have dancing headcanons for all the nations BTW). However when bumi is born and is about a few months old this baby can’t fall asleep, there is some nights that by some miracle he would fall asleep at his bedtime and sleep through the night, but he would wake up at four am BAWLING. On a normal night bumi just doesn’t stop crying and katara is absolutely exhausted she just came from one of the most stressing days in the clinics and she just can’t deal with bumi at the moment. Aang notices and tells katara to get some rest and that he will deal with bumi by himself, some time passes and bumi just doesn’t stop, there are moments where he calms down to then start crying his eyes out again, Aang has done absolutely everything, he is constantly carrying bumi around, he is giving him food, he is hugging and kissing bumi, he is talking to him, nothing seems to work. By this point aang has become numb to the cry’s and honestly at this point he is very tired and just decides to sit down with bumi in his arms and wait it out, I mean he eventually HAS to fall asleep, right? Well Aang gets pretty bored about just sitting down and hearing Bumi cry so he begins to hum to himself, he hummed this song he had heard an orchestra play at a work dinner. Unexpectedly baby bumi calms down a little when he hears aang hum, as Aang notices he begins to hum a little louder and notices bumi calmed down completely. He continues shocked when he sees bumi even begin to get sleepy, when he runs out of the melody he begins to sing songs that were sung to him at the temples when he was a little boy. To this bumi finally falls asleep.

Don’t cancel me pls.

[waywardsunlight]

Perry Porter thoughts continued but I think it’s really funny that he’s just vaguely on the outside of all the drama. I imagine he started up his relationship with Eda again during season 1 but it’s entirely off screen. He’s never shown to be involved in the rebellion/interacting with any Hagsquad members despite them all being former good friends so we have no idea how he feels about them or their schism. Perry is vocally critical of Belos’s decision to execute Eda and never gets in trouble for it. He’s cool with his son hanging out at a wanted criminal’s house weekly. Truly the icon of our era.

[gilfhunter069]

Reupload

[snaillock]

“last night i dreamt we did our laundry together”

boyfriend!isagi who can barely handle being around you since you’re his first love and he wants to do everything right. who can barely hold your hand for long without melting and feeling his systems sputtering.

boyfriend!isagi who didn’t know how much he was missing until he met you.

boyfriend!isagi who loves hearing how much you love him. no matter how many times and ways you say it, it will never get old.

boyfriend!isagi who’s so observant that he can spot the slightest negative mood shift in you.

boyfriend!isagi who loves it whenever you cradle his face in your hands to kiss him.

boyfriend!isagi who has practice cancelled on a rainy day so he spends it snuggling with you under layers of heavy blankets, wasting the day away. though it’s never a waste to him.

husband!isagi who loves the mundane. despite his stardom, nothing beats folding the laundry with you on the couch.

husband!isagi who loves cooking with you even if you generously eyeballing all the measurements freaks him out as he believes in following the recipe by the book.

husband!isagi who secretly sprays some of the perfume/cologne that you wear the most onto one of his clothes before a distant game so he’ll have something special whenever he misses you.

husband!isagi who wants nothing more than to grow old with you.

please read and respect my dni/byf before reblogging/following

taglist(sign up here!!): @leosxrealm @lucas2060 @kiiyoooo @remy-roll @maochira @starchivves @catmisu

[viterbofangirllovestheuntamed]

LXC a little sour to JC not because he dislikes the younger sect leader, some jiang sect disciple would probably shiv him for that, but because he's a tiny bit jealous, LQR occasionally compares LXC's ability to do paperwork/organize things/maintain discipline to JC's and frequently finds LXC lacking, especially in the paperwork department, and in the Lan sect at least it's an open secret that LQR wishes that JC was HIS nephew/son

A Small Selection Of Lan Qiren Comments That Lan Xichen Has Endured Over Years Of Doing Official Paperwork With Shufu:

- *apropos of nothing* I heard that Jiang Wanyin knows all the local farmers personally.

- Where are the source citation footnotes? … WHAT DO YOU MEAN ‘the what, now?’?!?!?

- Did you see the way Sect Leader Jiang glared at his disciples when they started whispering during that last cultivation conference? They way they just... snapped to order? Immediately? And barely breathed for the remainder of the meeting?? *deep sigh*

- I must say, Jiang-zongzhu’s arrangement of this graph speaks to a highly methodical and logistically-gifted mind.

- You only referenced data from the last *three* years in this year’s annual report? Hm...  Nothing. NO, it’s FINE. I just agree with certain other parties that one can only truly get a comprehensive picture of long-range projections by utilizing statistics from at least the last decade…

[loganhowlettshousewife]

logan howlett x black!reader

series masterlist - my masterlist

warnings: single mom!reader, single dad!logan, your daughter's name is amara (very sorry if that's your name), anyone can technically read this but it was written with a black reader in mind

your daughter, amara, has always been shy. she doesn’t have many friends, preferring to stick by your side during non-school hours and weekends, and sitting in the corner trying to avoid the prying eyes of nosy kids in her class during school hours. 

you’ve always worried about her, she’s your baby after all, but she never seems particularly upset at her lack of social life. she claims most children her age are irritating, that they’re mean, that they never shut up. and then one night she comes home blabbering on and on about a new girl in her class named laura, who sat next to her and glared at people who tried to speak to her and muttered “pendejo” under her breath at the boys sitting in front of them.

a wave of relief rushes through you, nearly knocking you off your feet with the force of it. you smile, a careful thing, and prod your daughter until she gives you more details. for once, it’s easy - she doesn’t grumble that school is stupid or shrug saying “it was fine”. she talks, her voice a pitch higher than usual in her excitement.

this is a good sign, and you pray that things will follow this path, only getting better for the both of you. 

you never believed in love at first sight until you met logan howlett. it was for books and movies that were too short to fully delve into the complexities of falling in love, how it took time and trust and learning the other person to open up your heart to them. attraction, sure, that could be instantaneous, but true feelings were based in a fundamental understanding of the other person, a connection that ran so deep even their flaws became perfect simply by virtue of being theirs.

logan howlett is serious and stoic, a broad man who stands by his car with a frown on his face instead of going up to the school to pick up his daughter. he looks irritated at the busy rush of cars coming and going, children running across the parking lot without looking, parents shouting after them.

but he softens around laura in a way that makes your heart melt. and maybe it’s simply been way too long since you’ve been on a date or gotten laid, but seeing him - a large, imposing man who’s eyes betray a deep desire to punch something or someone - which is a feeling you very well understand, especially surrounded by pta parents - acting so soft around his child makes butterflies flutter in your tummy.

you have the urge to walk right up to him and offer to give him another child, but you’re not that lonely and deprived, and you think he may decide to get a restraining order on you if you do. this, of course, cannot happen, since you’ve decided you're going to do everything in your power to facilitate your daughter's friendship with laura.

so you watch him from afar, and your restraint proves to be the right move, because he approaches you a few days later to ask for your number. (to organise play dates for the girls, but you don’t need to think about that part.) he drops laura off at your house and spends a few minutes speaking to you at the door instead of immediately turning away, another success. the next weekend you pick up amara from the howlett’s house instead, laughing as he tells you stories about what they got up to while you weren’t around.

your daughter’s never been described as trouble before, and logan admits it may be laura’s influence. stubborn and slightly-temperamental, the perfect balance for your shy and sweet girl.

it’s a fine dynamic, the one you share with logan. he’s kind and respectful, always polite, not like the sleazy men who hit on you while you worked at a bar to support yourself through college and not like your current male coworkers who always want to put you down, making comments behind your back. he’s the perfect man.

unfortunately, that’s not enough for you.

amara’s birthday comes on a warm spring day, the colours of the grass and the sky vibrant hues that match the energy that thrums through you. logan offers to host the party, stating that they have a bigger backyard, with a covered gazebo he built himself, under which the two of you now stand, protected from the harsh beating rays of the midday sun. 

a grand total of five kids were invited to the party, after being carefully vetted by laura. it’s more than you could have imagined, seeing your daughter shyly talking to her classmates, even if she only shares a few words at a time. progress is progress, and honestly you have laura to thank - her protective nature is the reason your daughter is brave enough to try, because she knows no matter what happens, there’s someone by her side.

a pile of unopened presents sit on a picnic table beside half-finished pizza boxes, food abandoned in favour of running and laughing, short legs sprinting as fast as possible in some game you don’t understand. your daughter is a blur as she runs, braids flying behind her, giggles following her small form.

logan helps you carry the pizza boxes back inside, setting them down on the kitchen table. it’s quiet inside the house, where you can no longer hear the sounds of the party, and it emboldens you to take a step closer, into his space.

“thank you for doing this,” you tell him, “you’re amazing.”

he shrugs, “it’s nothin’ really. doesn’t take that much effort and the kids are happy.”

“you need to learn how to take compliments, logan,” you scold gently. he looks seconds away from rolling his eyes, throwing some quick rebuke your way, but you don’t allow him the time to do so, raising your voice a pitch louder just in case. “i’m serious. you’ve been a wonderful friend since moving here. helping amara, offering up your time and your home. i appreciate it.”

his eyes meet yours, twin brown gazes, a question in his eyes that you don’t quite have the talent to read, to interpret into something concrete. it’s his turn to shift closer to you, though you don’t see his body move, only feel it as his arm brushes against yours, bare skin meeting bare skin, the visual contrast of your skin tones sparking something electric in your veins. a perfect difference, the kind that begs to be photographed in a portrait of limbs tangled together under the warm glow of the sun.

“are we friends?” he asks, his voice rough, low, enough to send a shiver up your spine. he places a careful emphasis on the word friends, something you can see yourself doing if your places in the conversation were flipped.

“do you want to be?” you reply rather than answer the question. it’s placing the power in his hands, not quite allowing yourself to be fully vulnerable, but hinting with your tone that he needn’t be afraid of his answer, regardless of what it may be. you’re willing to be whatever he wants.

his hands raise, stopping a breath away from your face, close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating off his palms despite the fact that he isn’t touching you. restraint isn’t your best quality, you prefer to jump headfirst and hope the consequences are worth it, but right now it’s not just about you. it’s about the fact that logan will continue to be a part of your life even if this goes wrong, that your dynamic changing will mean something for your children too.

“tell me to stop,” he says. you shake your head.

“i won’t.”

everything about him is rough when he kisses you, from the palms of his hands cupping your face, to his slightly chapped lips, to the scratch of his beard. he kisses you like you’re the last sip of water in an infinite desert, catching the sounds you make with his mouth, pulling you impossibly closer. it’s the opposite of soft or sweet or gentle.

you bury your hands in his hair, using the leverage to pull him closer, temporarily breaking the kiss with the change in angle before diving back in. you tug at his hair and he groans, lifting a pleased smile from you - it’s hard to kiss when you're smiling so much, breathless laughter escaping you because it all feels like a dream.

you’re interrupted by a high pitched squeal of “ew” and the sound of another voice shushing the first. separating from logan, you throw your head back, breathing heavily, glancing in the direction of the noise to spot your daughter and laura watching the two of you. amara’s grimacing, her nose scrunched up, while laura looks contemplative, her eyes gleaming with an intelligence too quick and intense for a girl of her age.

she whispers something to amara, whose expression clears. her scowl at finding her mother kissing someone long gone, a wide-eyed elation in its place.

“are me and laura gonna be sisters now?” she asks, her voice high and breathy, in awe at the realisation. logan’s hands shift to your waist, pulling your attention back to him and the amusement tugging at his lips, the raise of his eyebrow in your direction, waiting for your answer with an expectancy that matches your daughter’s.

you roll your eyes, refusing to say anything that might compromise your position, telling logan what you want without hearing him say it first. you refuse to be the vulnerable one, the one who shares her hopes and waits to see if his desires match them. there is no label between you, not after a single kiss, and you won’t be having this conversation with two children around to hear, especially not ones who are way too emotionally invested for their own good.

“we’ll talk about this later,” you say instead, “isn’t it time for presents now?”

you expertly manoeuvre yourself out of logan’s hold, walking out of the kitchen without waiting to see if anyone is following you. you can feel logan’s heavy stare on the back of your neck, the intensity making you want to fall to your knees, but you’ve always had good self-control.

amara doesn’t shut up about what she’s seen for the rest of the party, retelling the story time and time again, each time more embellished than the last, adding words from both you and logan that neither of you had said. laura seems less excited, following your daughter around and nodding along to the ridiculous statements that fall from your daughter's mouth, but there’s a tension to her shoulders that you know means she cares about the outcome too.

logan materialises behind you, his hands finding your waist with the expertise of a couple who have been together for years, the feeling so natural you can’t help but fall into it, leaning back into his hold, giving him the perfect leverage to whisper in your ear.

“did you hear the latest version?” he mutters, “apparently we’re getting married.”

“fuck off,” you reply at the teasing in his voice, but you’re smiling despite yourself because you’re happy, and your daughter’s happy and a hot man who understands the struggles of raising a kid is holding you in his strong arms.

for once in your life, everything seems to be falling into place, fantasies becoming realities, things you worried that you couldn’t allow yourself to wish for in case it only brought you more pain in the long run. and all you can think is it’s about fucking time.

diversity december taglist: @raeinyourdreams @meetmypointlessaddiction @chubbyhedgehog @yxtkiwiyxt @isepod @dis-plus-fanfic-reblog-writes

[madame-fear]

Can you do headcanons about modern single dad jacaerys x single mom reader ? 💕🙏

amira speaks! : yesss of course my love! i hope this was what you expected. i do apologise beforehand, it might be a bit short, and i hope it was what you expected, my dear nonnie. 🙏

— genre : fluff, modern au. — pairing : modern!single dad!jacaerys verlaryon x modern!single mum!reader.

: ̗̀➛ jace would’ve met you because your son befriended his own, becoming best friends — so, obviously, being best friends included going to each other’s houses.

: ̗̀➛ jace already knew you — very slightly — when both of you dropped off your children at school at the same time, but never managed to properly meet, or talk to you. And not that he had noticed you that much at that time, either.

: ̗̀➛ both of you are young single parents. While his young wife abandoned him and their son from one day to another a few months after giving birth to the boy, your boyfriend abandoned you while being pregnant — so you shared a similar background on how you became single parents.

: ̗̀➛ the second you step into his home with your child, he immediatly warmly greets you and makes you feel at home. Jace has a cheery personality, very gentle and delicate around you; plus, he would be the most polite man you ever met. Impossible not to already warm up to him already.

: ̗̀➛ jace has an almost natural paternal instinct that swoops you off your feet. While both boys are playing around together, you might see him bringing hot chocolate and cookies to them, and maybe even messing with their hair. BEING A SWEET FATHER EVEN TO YOUR BOY IS HIS RIZZ–

: ̗̀➛ he can tell you must be a good mother as well, by the way your boy always clings to you and kisses your cheek or makes sweet little drawings for you and you just shower him in love. Even his son already adores you, and even if Jace won’t say it, you would have already stolen his heart with the calm kindness and loveliness you have around children.

: ̗̀➛ gods, he can’t help but notice how pretty you are in every sense as well. The way you know how to charismatically joke around with him, the way you so sweetly laugh and smile, how you stare at him when he’s talking to you, and how you always lift his and/or your boy off the ground just to spin them around the air playfully.

: ̗̀➛ perhaps the last woman he held such an endearing love before broke his heart, making grief be engraved in every inch of his being, and even left him with a baby boy who was just a few months old; clueless and anxious. But you? You are different, he knows. Just like you know, he could never leave your side, even helping you out in the silliest things.

: ̗̀➛ at this point in time, you befriended one another rapidly. Often going to each other’s houses — much to the boys delight, too —, talking and chatting 24/7, and occasionally staying for dinner.

: ̗̀➛ though he might be a bit shy to express his love for you, no matter how long he has known you for and how perfectly well he knows you, Jace will do his best to show his appreciation for you. And oh, he never fails to charm you away.

: ̗̀➛ bringing flowers, gifting you jewellery, buying toys for your son, kissing your cheek and pressing his lips on your skin longer than he should — all clear signs. You are too afraid you misinterpret his politeness, but you are far from misunderstanding anything.

: ̗̀➛ at one point in time, after the tension is more than notoriously felt lurking between every single one of your stares, or how comforting it feels when both of you are together playing with your boys as if it were both of them were your own family, I think he wouldn’t be to keen in keeping what he feels for you any longer.

: ̗̀➛ to which, before you left his home with your son back to your home, he would’ve held you for a bit longer. Of course, silly boy would be idiotically stumbling upon his own words rather timidly trying to find the proper words, and when he does, he would offer to take you somewhere you fancy, and the boys would be taken care of by anyone you trust wholeheartedly.

: ̗̀➛did you say yes? of fucking course, in the blink of an eye. And, you left by gently pressing your lips on his cheek, placing a tender kiss, and giving him a sweet, wide, toothy grin. The one that melts his heart, at the same time it makes it pound violently against his chest. On the outside you look like the most tranquil person in the world, but on the inside, you are screaming and giggling like a little girl with a crush. Finally, it was about time he would make a move.

: ̗̀➛ it’s needless to say his son adores you as much as Jace adores you entirely without a doubt, and by seeing how much of a proper loving mother to his son as if he were also your own, he just knows you are the one he would forever cherish with the entirety of his being.

♡ taglist : ♡

@damatheirin @jacesvelaryons @capellaadara @kyuupidwrites @tchatso @tasty-nutella @mstxdes @valeriecash @cookielovesbook-akie @zzz000eee @bellarkeselection @visenya-reigned @maria699669 @hopelesswritergall @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @sweethoneyblossom1 @jamiemydeer @snowprincesa1 @jacevelaryonswife

[cringevalue]

steve harrington starts dating single dad ! eddie munson and meets his six year daughter, max. she solely speaks in meows and hisses and steve is, if he's being honest with himself, a little scared of her.

the first time steve meets max, she is reasonably suspicious of him, hissing at him from behind her dad's leg. eddie tells him that she's convinced she's part cat.

the second time steve meets max, he brings a cute little cat onesie. she's still suspicious of him, but she takes the costume and refuses to let anyone touch it.

two weeks later, steve and eddie go out for lunch together and when they sit down, eddie lets out a dramatic sigh.

"you ruined my life, stevie-boy," he complains.

"what?" steve laughs.

"that damn cat onesie you got max? she won't take it off," steve explains. "it's been two weeks, steve. she stinks."

"she won't even bathe?"

"bathing requires taking the onesie off and that's not happening. non-negotiable in her eyes."

steve snorts. "you think if i got her another one, she'd swap out every once in a while?"

eddie eyes him with a look steve can only describe as love. "worth a shot. but i don't want you to spend a bunch of money on us."

steve smiles and gently grabs eddie's hand. "it's done."