#laura tumbles

[laurasimonsdaughter]

Came back wrong this, came back monstrous that

What if they came back loving? What if they came back in love. What if the necromancy worked and you cheated death and it's everything you've ever wanted, but now they love you in a way they never did before and you cannot know if that is because they finally know the lengths you are willing to go for them, or because something in this deathless magic bound their soul to yours to guide them home and it left them no. choice.

[stretchy19]

i loooove to post in this void my one friend that sees them. i literally cannot stop tumbling for her.

[fazcinatingblog]

I'm reading this book at the moment, i don't know why i had it on my ibooks but it's been there for awhile, and it's like.... i don't know... i feels like i'm reading a book written by that boy in primary school who didn't care much for school and mucked around but he loved science probably because he wanted to blow stuff up and

anyway, i feel like i'm getting inside the head of jackson mcmahon.

[urdreamydoodles]

Can you please make an X-Men with a goth reader?? With Logan, Scott, Remy, Rogue, Pietro, etc.

We need more x men that can handle a goth baddie 😭🙏

X-Men x Goth!Reader

How the X-Men react to their gothic s/o

Wrapped in dark elegance, your presence is a mystery, a shadow that moves beside them.

Characters: Logan Howlett, Remy LeBeau, Kurt Wagner, Scott Summers, Jean Grey, Rogue, Erik Lehnsherr, Bobby Drake, Wanda Maximoff, Pietro Maximoff, Laura Kinney & Wade Wilson

Oh my god, thank you for this prompt. I hadn't thought of that yet, and now I'm in love. (And yes, the X-Men need a goth baddie) Hope you like it <3

Logan Howlett aka. Wolverine

- Logan was immediately intrigued by your dark, edgy look. He’s always appreciated individuality, and your gothic style is no exception. There’s a look of quiet admiration in his eyes whenever you’re dressed up in dark attire, heavy eyeliner, and your signature accessories. He finds it a refreshing contrast to his own rugged appearance, and there’s a glint in his eye every time he sees you dressed to the nines in your gothic style.

- Despite his rough-and-tumble nature, Logan has a soft spot for taking care of you when you’re adjusting your outfit or fixing your makeup. He’s rough with his own appearance but becomes surprisingly delicate if you need him to hold a pin, help fasten a corset, or even steady your eyeliner in a moving vehicle. Logan finds a sort of pride in your style and will gruffly mutter about how you don’t need any of it to look “kickass” — though he never actually tells you to change.

- Logan has always been a bit protective, but seeing you in such unique attire intensifies that instinct. Whether you’re out in public or at a party with other mutants, he’s hyper-aware of anyone staring too long or making a comment. Anyone who tries to criticize or judge your appearance will face Logan’s steely glare, and if anyone dares to say something unkind, Logan will growl out a curt, “Watch your mouth.”

- Logan takes you on adventures in the forest, where your aesthetic is at home against dark trees, shadows, and the moonlight casting a pale glow. He notices the way your love of all things dark blends so well with nature, and he’ll sometimes surprise you with gifts like black roses or unique stones that he finds during his travels. There’s an unspoken connection between his wild spirit and your gothic beauty, and he feels that keenly.

- In private, Logan can’t help but be a little captivated by you. When you’re together, he takes a moment to admire you in the shadows, noticing the details in your clothing, jewelry, and makeup. He’ll run his fingers over your darkened nails or twirl a piece of your hair, finding the gothic aesthetic mysterious and alluring. He may be a man of few words, but the way he looks at you says it all.

Remy LeBeau aka. Gambit

- Remy was charmed from the moment he saw your gothic look. He’s always been drawn to unique personalities, and your dark, striking style caught his attention immediately. He’s often complimenting your bold choices and teasingly asks if you’re trying to cast a spell on him with your bewitching look. Every time you add something new to your ensemble, he’s the first to notice and give an enthusiastic approval.

- Remy loves accessorizing and will often gift you trinkets and jewelry that he thinks match your aesthetic. He has an eye for detail and will go out of his way to find vintage rings, unique chokers, or bracelets that fit right into your gothic wardrobe. Sometimes he’ll even joke that he “borrowed” it from a wealthy socialite, adding a bit of thrill to each item he gives you.

- Whenever you’re out together, Remy makes it clear to everyone around that he’s proud to be by your side. He doesn’t mind being the center of attention, and he revels in the way people stare at the two of you together. Your gothic style, paired with his smooth Cajun charm, makes you both an irresistible sight, and he absolutely loves the dramatic effect you create as a couple.

- Remy isn’t shy about getting involved in your look either. He’ll sometimes join you in wearing darker colors, occasionally adding a dark coat or some subtle accessories to match your aesthetic. And whenever you put on darker lipstick or smudged eyeliner, he’s quick to lean in, smirking and saying, “Chere, you tryin’ to make a bad boy outta me?” before sneaking a kiss and smudging your lipstick.

- At the end of the day, Remy loves the way your dark, bold look contrasts with his playful nature. In private moments, he’ll trace his fingers over your jewelry or adjust your lace gloves, smiling in admiration. There’s something about your mysterious beauty that makes him feel even more protective and infatuated, and he’ll often pull you close, murmuring about how he’s got a taste for danger — and you’re exactly his type.

Kurt Wagner aka. Nightcrawler

- Kurt is utterly enchanted by your gothic style. To him, it’s a beautiful form of self-expression, and he admires your ability to embrace it so wholeheartedly. His own appearance has always set him apart, and your willingness to stand out with your unique look makes him feel seen and appreciated. He’ll often tell you how striking you look, calling you his “dark angel.”

- While Kurt’s aesthetic might be different, he secretly loves trying out some gothic-inspired touches when he’s with you. Whether it’s a spiked bracelet, a dark cloak, or even dabbling with black nail polish (after much convincing), he’s open to stepping out of his usual look to match your vibe, finding it fun and endearing to share in your aesthetic.

- Kurt is deeply respectful of your style, and he’s fascinated by the meaning behind the gothic elements you choose. He’ll eagerly ask about your jewelry, your makeup, or why you love dark colors. He listens intently to your answers, often seeing your look as a form of art and self-expression. He sees beauty in everything you do, and that extends deeply to your appearance.

- When you’re both out together, Kurt keeps an arm protectively around you, teleporting you out of crowds if he senses anyone staring too much. He knows how judgmental people can be, and he wants you to feel as comfortable and safe as possible. He’ll often take you on night-time adventures, leaping across rooftops with you in his arms, knowing you’ll love the thrill of the city under moonlight.

- Kurt loves your aesthetic so much that he’s inspired to draw you. When he has free time, you’ll catch him sketching in his notebook, creating little drawings of you in various gothic outfits. He never tells you about it until you find his sketches by accident, blushing furiously when you compliment his work. He’d say shyly, “Vhy wouldn’t I vish to capture such beauty?”

Scott Summers aka. Cyclops

- Scott’s first reaction to your gothic style is one of quiet fascination. As someone who’s usually by the book, he’s intrigued by how unapologetically yourself you are. He’s not exactly one for bold fashion statements, but he admires your confidence and individuality, often finding himself silently captivated by your unique look. He might not say it often, but his lingering glances are unmistakable.

- Scott quickly becomes a bit protective when you’re out in public, especially if people stare or make comments. He’s the type to subtly position himself between you and any potential gawkers, his arm hovering near yours in a quiet but firm show of solidarity. He respects your aesthetic completely, and he doesn’t tolerate any negativity directed your way.

- While Scott may not share your love for gothic fashion, he’ll still make an effort to understand it. He’s the type to do his research and might even surprise you with knowledge about gothic subculture, books, or art. He takes your interests seriously and often engages in thoughtful conversations, eager to understand the things you’re passionate about.

- Although Scott isn’t one for grand gestures, he’s deeply supportive in his own quiet way. He’ll surprise you with thoughtful little gifts—perhaps a book by a gothic author you admire or a vintage item he thinks would suit your style. His love language might be subtle, but he’s always thinking of ways to show his appreciation for the things that make you unique.

- Behind closed doors, Scott’s admiration for your gothic look becomes a little more apparent. He’s endlessly fascinated by the contrast between his own controlled, structured personality and your bold, mysterious beauty. He’ll sometimes run his fingers through your hair, admiring the way it frames your face, and he’ll tell you in his own reserved way just how much he’s in awe of you.

Jean Grey aka. Marvel Girl / Phoenix

- Jean is fascinated by your gothic style and sees it as a beautiful, creative way to express yourself. She finds herself admiring the little details in your attire, the dark layers, intricate jewelry, and the way it all complements your personality. Her curiosity often leads her to ask about your fashion choices, eager to understand what each piece means to you.

- Being empathetic and open-minded, Jean appreciates how you embrace a style that isn’t necessarily “mainstream.” She’ll often compliment you, giving you a gentle smile and reminding you that she loves your unique style. She finds it refreshingly bold and admires how it reflects your inner strength and individuality. Jean occasionally likes to join you in trying out darker makeup or accessories to match your aesthetic, finding the experience fun and bonding.

- Jean’s powers make her sensitive to people’s thoughts, and she’s hyper-aware of the judgmental looks or whispers when you’re both out in public. She’s quick to reassure you telepathically, sending you warm, encouraging thoughts if she senses any discomfort from you. Her presence always feels like a supportive, silent reminder that she’s by your side, and she has a way of making you feel completely understood.

- Sometimes, she’ll surprise you with little gifts that fit your gothic style—a delicate black pendant she found, a book of poetry she thinks you’ll love, or a flower carefully chosen to match your look. Jean’s attentiveness shows in every thoughtful gesture, and she genuinely enjoys finding ways to make you feel cherished and accepted.

- Jean often finds herself captivated by the way your gothic aesthetic contrasts with her own. In private moments, she’ll softly tell you how beautiful and mysterious you look, her gaze filled with admiration. She’ll gently brush a strand of hair from your face, whispering about how she feels lucky to be with someone as unique and bold as you.

Anna Marie aka. Rogue

- Rogue adores your gothic style and finds it incredibly cool. She’s all about breaking the mold, so seeing you embrace a bold, dark aesthetic instantly impresses her. She’s the type to playfully nudge you and say, “You look killer, sugah,” whenever you put together a particularly striking look, and she often asks for style tips to incorporate some gothic elements into her own outfits.

- She loves joining you in shopping trips for gothic clothes and accessories. Rogue has a thing for statement pieces herself, so she’s always on the lookout for something edgy that could match both of your styles. She’s especially drawn to things like dark leather jackets, silver rings, and anything that screams “rebellious”—finding it exciting to shop with someone who has a taste for the unconventional.

- Rogue has a protective streak and won’t stand for anyone disrespecting you or making you feel out of place. If someone stares too long or makes a comment, Rogue has no problem giving them a sharp, intimidating glare. She’s fiercely defensive of your right to express yourself, and she’ll always make sure you feel comfortable and safe being yourself around her.

- Your gothic look and overall vibe sometimes make her feel a bit soft around you, and she loves that. Rogue admires your confidence and how you carry yourself, and she’s grateful for the quiet strength she feels from being with you. Sometimes, when it’s just the two of you, she’ll sit close and tell you how she feels like she’s found a kindred spirit in you—someone who isn’t afraid to stand out.

- In private, Rogue is endlessly affectionate and attentive. She loves taking in all the little details, like how you accessorize or the particular makeup you wear. She’ll sometimes brush her gloved hand across your cheek, marveling at how stunning you look and making you feel like you’re the only person in the world. With you, she can be her true, unfiltered self, and she’s grateful for that.

Erik Lehnsherr aka. Magneto

- Erik is immediately intrigued by your gothic aesthetic. He’s a person of elegance and sophistication, but he appreciates when someone dares to be different. He’ll often give you a thoughtful once-over, his piercing gaze lingering on you in silent admiration. Though he doesn’t say much at first, he finds himself fascinated by your unique look and style.

- Erik’s keen intellect often leads him to inquire about the historical roots of the gothic subculture, and he listens intently as you explain its influences. He sees a lot of strength in your choice to embrace a bold, non-conformist style and has a profound respect for your commitment to your aesthetic. He’ll occasionally surprise you with antique jewelry or rare finds that match your taste, finding a sort of thrill in choosing gifts you’ll treasure.

- When you’re out together, Erik is a silent but powerful presence, always by your side and subtly protective. Anyone who dares look down on you or make a judgmental comment will quickly find themselves on the receiving end of his steely glare. He values self-expression and has no patience for those who would try to undermine yours, making it very clear that he respects you fully and will tolerate no less from others.

- He has a refined appreciation for your style, often drawing parallels between it and his own preference for timeless, dignified looks. In private, he’ll run a hand over a piece of your jewelry or trace his fingers along the intricate details of your clothes, remarking in a low voice about how well it all suits you. He finds your appearance mesmerizing and genuinely enjoys the aura of mystery you bring with you.

- Erik doesn’t often show vulnerability, but with you, he finds himself at ease. He admires how your gothic style reflects resilience, a quality he holds dear, and he sees in you a kindred spirit—a reminder of strength in individuality. When it’s just the two of you, he’ll quietly express how he feels lucky to have found someone who embraces the world with such fierce independence.

Bobby Drake aka. Iceman

- Bobby is absolutely fascinated by your gothic style. As someone who’s always been a bit playful and lighthearted, he finds your dark, brooding aesthetic to be thrillingly different from anything he’s used to. He’ll often tease you affectionately, calling you his “goth queen” or “dark angel” in that playful way only he can pull off, genuinely admiring your commitment to the look.

- He’s endlessly curious about your fashion choices and will often ask questions about the different elements of your style, from the jewelry to the makeup. Bobby isn’t afraid to experiment either—sometimes you’ll catch him jokingly trying on your rings or attempting your dark eyeliner just for laughs. He loves getting you to crack a smile, even if it means looking a little ridiculous himself.

- Bobby is all about hyping you up in public. He finds your look incredibly cool and will proudly show you off whenever you’re together. If people give you weird looks, he’ll throw an arm around your shoulder and declare, “Yeah, that’s my goth babe—jealous?” His lighthearted energy brings a fun dynamic to your relationship, making you feel completely accepted for who you are.

- Despite his own upbeat personality, Bobby finds your gothic aesthetic deeply captivating. He’s fascinated by how well it reflects your personality, and he often jokes about being “entranced” by your dark, mysterious look. Sometimes, he’ll even ask if you could show him a bit more about the gothic subculture, genuinely interested in learning about something that means so much to you.

- In quiet moments, Bobby is surprisingly thoughtful, admiring your makeup or your choice of accessories in a way that’s tender and sincere. He’ll tell you that you look amazing and that he’s lucky to have someone so unique and bold by his side. Beneath all his jokes, there’s a deep respect for your individuality, and he genuinely loves how your gothic aesthetic adds a layer of mystery and allure to your relationship.

Wanda Maximoff aka. The Scarlet Witch

- Wanda is deeply drawn to your gothic aesthetic and feels an immediate kinship with you. She’s familiar with the feeling of being different, of standing apart, so she instantly understands your choice to embrace a darker look. She loves how your style is unapologetically you and finds comfort in how it resonates with the magic and mystery she herself embodies.

- Wanda is genuinely captivated by the intricacies of your look. She’ll admire the subtle details—maybe a delicate, ornate ring or a shadowed makeup look that speaks to your artistry. Sometimes she’ll playfully use her magic to make a small dark aura shimmer around you, a soft, enchanted touch to match your aesthetic. It’s her way of embracing your uniqueness and showing that she appreciates every part of you.

- When you’re both out together, she’s proud to be seen by your side. If people stare or pass judgment, Wanda doesn’t let it affect her. She’ll take your hand and give you a knowing smile, her quiet confidence making you feel fully accepted. Her serene presence has a calming effect, and you know you’re safe with her, free to be yourself without any need to explain or justify.

- Wanda loves sharing her own story with you, talking about the darker aspects of her past and the magic that’s sometimes misunderstood by others. She feels like you understand her struggles and admires how your gothic style speaks to resilience and defiance. Sometimes, she’ll create small magical gifts for you—a necklace that glows faintly with enchantment or a rose that never wilts, gestures to show her affection and appreciation for who you are.

- In private, she’s incredibly gentle and open, drawn to how your darker style balances her sometimes chaotic world. Wanda will often express how much she cherishes you, how your individuality and strength help her feel more grounded. She finds comfort in your presence, and there’s a deep, almost otherworldly bond that connects you both, as if she’s found a piece of herself in you.

Pietro Maximoff aka. Quicksilver

- Pietro is absolutely fascinated by your gothic look and finds it incredibly cool. He’s the type to whistle and tease you, calling you his “gothic queen” or “dark angel” with a big, proud grin. Your style is so different from his fast-paced, casual vibe, and he loves how it sets you apart from everyone else he knows.

- He loves showing you off and finds joy in watching other people’s reactions when they see you two together. Pietro has a protective streak, so if anyone gives you a weird look or mutters a snide comment, he’s quick to shut them down with a snappy comeback. He’s proud of your unique style and makes it known that he wouldn’t want you any other way.

- Pietro’s energy is a fun contrast to your aesthetic, and he often makes it his mission to get you to crack a smile. Whether it’s by jokingly trying on your dark lipstick or attempting your makeup style (usually ending up with eyeliner everywhere), he’s always trying to bring some lightheartedness into your day. He loves that your seriousness balances him out, and he always feels like his life is a bit more exciting with you in it.

- He’s incredibly curious about all things gothic and will often ask questions about your music, style, or favorite bands. Sometimes, he’ll surprise you by blasting one of your favorite gothic rock songs while you’re together, just to show he’s been paying attention. He’s always eager to learn more about what makes you tick and is genuinely interested in understanding the darker elements of your personality.

- In quieter moments, Pietro will tell you how lucky he feels to be with someone who’s so unapologetically themselves. He’s a bit of a show-off, but around you, he’s sincere, openly admiring the depth you bring to his life. He loves the contrast between your mysterious vibe and his vibrant personality, and he feels like you’re his perfect opposite, bringing balance to his world.

Laura Kinney aka. X-23 / Wolverine

- Laura’s first reaction to your gothic style is quiet fascination. She’s not one to comment much on appearances, but she admires how self-assured you seem with your unique look. She respects individuality, and your dark aesthetic quickly becomes something she associates with strength and resilience—a reminder that you’re someone who can stand out and face the world on your own terms.

- She’s very protective of you, especially if you’re out together and encounter anyone who looks down on your style. Laura doesn’t tolerate any disrespect, and if she senses anyone judging you, they’ll get a deadly glare. Your relationship with Laura is based on mutual respect, and she’ll go out of her way to make sure you’re never made to feel lesser because of how you look.

- Laura isn’t one for big gestures, but she shows her affection in small, meaningful ways. If she notices a new accessory or makeup look, she’ll give you a subtle nod of approval or say, “You look nice.” It’s her way of showing that she notices the little things and that she values the care you put into your style. Occasionally, she’ll even ask for your input if she wants to try something different with her look, trusting your judgment.

- Sometimes, Laura’s curiosity gets the better of her, and she’ll sit with you to ask questions about the gothic subculture. She respects that there’s a deeper meaning behind your aesthetic, and learning about your interests helps her feel closer to you. She listens intently, taking in every word with her characteristic seriousness, and it’s clear she appreciates the passion you have for your style.

- When it’s just the two of you, Laura lets her guard down and shows a softer side, often complimenting you in her own way. She’ll tell you that you’re “different from anyone else,” and coming from her, it’s the highest praise. With Laura, you know you’re accepted fully, and she values the unique presence you bring to her life, finding comfort and strength in the dark beauty that defines you.

Wade Wilson aka. Deadpool

- Wade is absolutely thrilled by your gothic style and finds it ridiculously cool. He’s the type to immediately start calling you his “dark and mysterious love,” and he’s not shy about showing you off. He’ll take you anywhere and everywhere, proudly bragging to anyone who’ll listen about how awesome you look. He loves that your aesthetic stands out and often tries to “match” you in his own chaotic way.

- Being Wade, he’s constantly trying to make you laugh, especially since your serious demeanor intrigues him. He’ll crack jokes, do silly impressions, and make exaggerated compliments about how you’re his “queen of darkness.” He’s always trying to get a smile out of you, relishing the challenge of breaking through your stoic exterior, and finds it endlessly amusing when he actually succeeds.

- Wade also loves dressing up to match your gothic look on occasion, though his interpretations are… creative. He’ll try on dark makeup or leather jackets and end up looking like a rock star from the 80s. Despite how outlandish he looks, his attempts are always genuine, and he adores the way your aesthetic complements his unpredictable personality.

- Wade is surprisingly sensitive to how the world judges appearances and takes it personally if anyone so much as looks at you the wrong way. He’s fiercely defensive of your right to express yourself and will launch into a full-fledged speech about how amazing you are, shutting down any naysayers with his trademark over-the-top theatrics. With Wade, you know you’ll always be celebrated for exactly who you are.

- In private, Wade will tell you how he admires the confidence and mystery you carry with your style. Beneath his antics, there’s a genuine admiration for your strength and individuality. He’ll hold your hand, make eye contact, and tell you that you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him, adding with a smirk, “Even if you look like you might summon a demon any second.” It’s his way of saying he’s completely smitten, and he loves you just as you are.

[togrowoldinv]

Drill Lessons

Natasha Romanoff x Female Reader

Natasha shows you how to use a power tool and your mutual crush comes to light

Warnings: Smut! 18+ please! Kissing, cursing, oral (N and R receiving)

Natasha Masterlist 1, Natasha Masterlist 2, Natasha Masterlist 3, Main Masterlist

To you, Natasha Romanoff is the most beautiful woman to ever walk the earth.

You’ve been wanting to tell her for months that you like her. Ever since you joined the team you’ve had feelings for her. But you can’t get a read on her.

You have no idea if she has feelings for you too. Sometimes it feels like she’s flirting with you but then you see or hear her act the same way with one of the guys and you brush it off as nothing.

This weekend Clint invited everyone to his farm to enjoy a quick getaway and clear your heads. Missions hadn’t been easy lately, so you all needed the reprieve.

When you arrive, Natasha walks in the house first. She’s clearly very comfortable here.

“Welcome!” Laura says to everyone. “Come on in. Make yourselves at home!”

“Thank you for having us, Mrs. Barton,” you say when you greet her.

“Oh please, called me Laura,” she says. Then she addresses everyone, “We don’t have enough rooms so you’ll have to share. Nat, can y/n sleep with you?”

You try not to have a visceral reaction to the idea. You hold your breath as you await her reply.

“Sure,” Nat simply says. She turns to you, “I’ll show you the way.”

You follow her up the stairs where you run across a couple of kids.

“Auntie Nat?” A girl asks, in shock of seeing Nat.

“Hey malyshka,” Natasha replies. She brings the girl in for a hug. “Lila, this is y/n. Hopefully you won’t discover you like her more than you like me.”

You smile and wave to Lila. She returns the smile before running off downstairs.

Nat takes you down the hallway and to what appears to be her bedroom when she stays here. There are photos of the Barton family and Nat on the dresser. You admire how happy she looks here.

“I always sleep on the door side, but we’ll do whatever you feel comfortable with,” Nat says.

“Oh, either side works for me.”

Nat nods. You set your bag down on the bed and unpack a few things. Natasha moves around the room, gathering a few of her own things.

You both go back downstairs for the rest of the evening. Nothing too eventful happens. Everyone makes plans to spend time outside tomorrow.

Natasha is first to the bedroom. She slips into the bed casually. You try to do the same but fail miserably at not looking nervous.

“I don’t bite, you know,” Nat says teasingly.

“Right,” you respond too quickly. “I just- sorry.”

“Relax, y/n,” she says. You settle on your side of the bed. “Goodnight.”

“Night, Natasha.”

You both drift off into a peaceful sleep. You first, and then Natasha.

At some point during the night, you end up snuggling close to Natasha. She wakes up to the feeling of your arm draping over her. But she doesn’t mind it. Actually, she likes it.

When you wake up in the morning, you find yourself still nestled in her arms.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you say, trying to move off of her.

“Hey, it’s fine,” Nat says, only tightening her grip a bit before letting you loose. “So, you’re a cuddler, huh?”

You look away shyly and Nat just smirks. Now you definitely can’t believe you slept next to Natasha and accidentally snuggled with her all night. She doesn’t say anything else about it until you go downstairs for the day.

“Good morning!” Laura greets. She’s pulling fresh biscuits from the oven. “How did you sleep?”

“Good,” you answer briefly.

“She sure was cozy,” Nat interjects. It’s just Laura in the room with you two, but you still try to hold back a blush.

“Mhm, I’m sure,” Laura replies. Somehow you’re sure she knows the way you feel about Nat and how Nat feels about you.

Soon, the boys come tumbling into the kitchen. You all go outside to do your respective chosen activities. Steve promised to show you how to chop wood while Nat and Clint run off to the barn to build a new shelter for some of the animals.

“So, what’s the deal with you and Romanoff?” Steve asks after a few minutes of chopping the wood.

“Oh, is there- is there a me and Romanoff?”

“Is there not?” He asks genuinely. “I’m sorry. I just thought that you two- nevermind.”

“It’s okay,” you reply, shrugging.

It does leave you wondering if the other members of the team think something is happening there too. You try not to think about it too much as you continue to work outside. The fresh air does wonders for you.

Steve asks you to go grab the axe sharpening block from the barn, so you walk to the structure. When you get there, you catch sight of something that makes your jaw practically drop to the ground.

Natasha is wearing only a blank tank top and shorts are she uses a power drill to build a wooden structure. Sweat drips down her neck and chest as she expertly uses the tool.

You swear she catches the sight of you out of the corner of her eye, but she continues on with her drilling. She lifts heavy pieces of wood with ease. You can’t stop staring.

Nat lifts her tank top up to wipe the sweat from her face. You see her ab happy stomach and the sports bra that’s keeping the rest of her skin covered.

“Enjoying the view?” Nat says aloud. You’ve definitely been caught now.

“Oh, I was just-“ you start, but there’s no use. You were doing exactly that. “My bad.”

“Don’t apologize,” Nat says. “Come on in, what did you need?”

“We needed the axe sharpener block thing?”

“Is that a question?”

“Well, I don’t know what it is so yes?”

Nat chuckles. She turns to look at the shelf behind her for the tool you need. Her backside somehow looks just as good as her front.

“Here you go,” Nat says. She hands you the block. You are standing close to her now. “The real fun is happening in there though. I can show you how to use this.”

She gestures to the drill in her left hand, pressing her finger on the trigger to make it whir. You shouldn’t be so intrigued by it. Or by her for that matter. But you are.

“Maybe tomorrow you can show me?” You ask her.

“How about tonight?” Nat asks. Her voice drops an octave. You pray she means what you think she means.

You swallow shyly and Nat shoots you a smile. Slowly, you leave her there and go back to Steve. He doesn’t mention how long it took you to get the tool, thank goodness.

Later that day, you all grill out burgers and hotdogs. Clint tries to show off his grilling skills, but the team just gives him a hard time saying that it’s not all that hard anyways.

By the time evening comes, everyone’s sitting around a campfire. Natasha sits across from you. She glances at her phone and then to you as a way of alerting you to look at your phone.

The text reads: Meet me in the barn. 10 minutes.

You nod in her direction to acknowledge you got the message. The minutes pass by and you both leave to go to the barn.

When you get inside, Nat is already over by the wood she was working with earlier.

“Come on, I’ll show you,” Nat says.

“Okay,” you agree. You stand next to her.

“First things first, always know your surroundings,” Nat says.

She abruptly places her hands on your hips. She easily moves you to the right and left to observe your surroundings. Your heart stops when she reaches around you and her face is mere inches from yours.

She steps back and has a pair of clear glasses in her hand.

“And wear safety glasses,” she says. She places them on your face. You’re sure you look like an absolute fool. “Cute.”

“You didn’t wear these yesterday,” comes your reply.

“That’s because I’m an expert,” Nat says. She surprises you by pinching your cheeks. “You’ll get there, sweetheart.”

Natasha grabs the drill and ushers you to move closer to the wood with her. She takes you through step by step on how to use the power tool.

“Now, you can try,” Nat says.

“Okay,” you reply. You feel a little nervous about trying it. Nat assures you that you can’t mess it up.

You try to focus even with Nat being so close to you. For the first time using a drill, you don’t do terribly.

“Nice job, y/n,” Nat says. “But you’ll want to apply more pressure. Let me help you, sweetheart.”

Natasha places her hand on yours and pushes down on the drill. You pull the trigger and drill the screw into the wood. Her hot breath is on your neck.

You smile at your success and turn just enough to look at Nat. She’s just inches from you.

“Should we take this inside?” Nat asks. Her eyes glance to your lips and back up to your eyes. She brings her other hand to your cheek and brushes the back of it against it.

“Are you- um- yes?”

“Yes? Or yes.”

“The second one,” you say. Natasha smirks at you.

You leave the drill and safety glasses behind. Natasha holds your hand as she walks you to the house. You slip upstairs easily and she closes her bedroom door behind her.

“I’ve had my eye on you for a while,” Natasha says.

“Really?” You ask innocently.

“Really, detka. Come here,” she says, bringing you to the bed with her.

You sit next to her and she kisses you softly. It’s like floating on a cloud. You didn’t think she would be this gentle. But you’re loving it.

“May I?” Nat asks, gesturing to your shirt. You nod. She lifts the material over your head. “Beautiful.”

You feel sure you’re blushing at her words and the way her eyes rake over your body.

“Can I- um?” You pull at her tank top hem.

“Yes, baby,” Natasha says. “You can do anything to me.”

You lift the thin material over her head. Your heart stops at her beauty. You immediately lean forward and take her nipple into your mouth. It surprises Natasha how intentional you are being.

“Fuck, baby.”

“Is this okay?” You ask, pulling away a bit. Nat pulls your head back to her breasts. You’ll take that as a yes.

Natasha fumbles with your pants. She gets them unbuttoned but grumbles in frustration when she can’t get them off. You chuckle against her.

“Okay, hold on,” Nat says. She stands up and pulls her own pants down before grabbing you by the hips and pulling you up too.

Natasha takes your pants off with ease this time and slips them down your legs along with your underwear. She grins and drops to her knees. It doesn’t take her long to get to work licking and sucking at your pussy.

“Oh my god,” you moan out.

“You taste so good, baby. All for me,” Nat says.

“Fuck.”

You feel close to coming embarrassingly quickly but Natasha is proud of her work.

“Come for me, y/n,” she says. Her voice drips with sex.

“Fuck, Natasha!”

You come hard against her tongue. She licks you clean and stands back up. She kisses you deeply. It’s the most on fire you have ever felt.

“I want to taste you,” you tell Nat.

“Your wish is my command,” Nat says. She lays on the bed and you crawl over her body.

“So beautiful,” you say as you kiss from between her breasts down to her hips.

“You’re not so shy now are you?” Nat asks. You answer by diving into her wet pussy.

Her folds are slick and she’s ready for you. You lick and suck her, cherishing every noise she makes.

“Fuck, baby,” Nat says. “I’m going to come.”

“Come for me, Natasha.”

She does just that. You relish in the sounds she makes. You move back up her body and lay next to her.

“So, all of those times I thought you were flirting with me you actually were?” You break the silence.

Nat chuckles. “Yes, y/n. I’ve been hinting at it for months. I’m glad we finally got on the same page.”

She looks at you through her long eyelashes. You rest your head on her shoulder.

“I’ve always liked you, Natasha,” you say. “Do you think the team noticed we left?”

“Nah,” Nat says. “Even if they did, I don’t care. I have you.”

“You sure do.”

You snuggle further into Natasha. She holds you close as you lay together and talk for hours.

[mcrdvcks]

Hi! I have a small request with Logan Howlett. I was wondering if you could write a fic where the reader and Logan are putting up Christmas trees together (with their kids if possible) and it’s just so heart-warming, so domestic life, so cozy, so tooth-rotting sweet, so hunky husband material, and AAAAAHH—! #needthat 😍🥰🩷

Deck The Halls

Summary: You and Logan decorate for Christmas with your kids.

Word Count: 2k+

Pairing: Logan (X-Men) x fem!reader

Notes: sorry if this took a bit too long anon! i had to listen to quite a lot of christmas music while also being stressed that finals are next week and having like 2 final projects due friday that i haven't started... anyways, i hope this is what you wanted!

(you can imagine any logan for this it's not specified. and thank you for 800 followers!)

warnings/tags: laura!!, reader and logan have a biological kid, fluff!!

Laura propped open the door, the cold chill rushing inside as you lugged the tree inside. Sierra, who was already inside, her beanie slipping down onto her forehead, her gloves a tad bit oversized.

“Careful, you’re going to scratch the walls,” Laura said with a smirk, standing off to the side with her arms crossed.

“I got it,” you huffed, struggling to balance the massive tree as it scraped against the doorway. “If someone actually helped instead of supervising, this might go faster.”

Logan appeared behind you, a grunt escaping him as he took the tree from your hands like it was nothing. “That someone’s right here.”

“Show-off,” you muttered, shaking your head but smiling.

Sierra toddled over, her beanie nearly falling into her eyes as she pointed dramatically toward the corner of the living room. “It goes there! Right there, Daddy!”

“Bossy, just like your mom,” Logan teased, earning him a playful glare from you.

“You better be glad it’s Christmas,” you shot back, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. “Otherwise, I’d make you do all the decorating by yourself.”

Laura leaned against the doorway with a grin. “I vote we let Dad string up the lights. He’ll get all growly when they tangle.”

“Keep it up, kid,” Logan warned as he hoisted the tree into place, his tone gruff but laced with affection. “You’ll find yourself untangling them.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Laura replied, grabbing a nearby box of ornaments. “I’m just saying, you’re the one who’ll probably break half the bulbs.”

“Okay, let’s focus,” you cut in, handing Sierra a tiny star ornament from the box.

“Laura said she’d lift me up so I can put the star on top!” Sierra announced, her words tumbling out in a breathless rush.

“Laura said what now?” Logan arched a brow at Laura, who shrugged, completely unbothered.

“She asked. I said sure,” Laura said, bending down to tug her boots off. “I’m strong enough. She doesn’t weigh that much.”

“Not the point,” Logan grumbled, shaking his head. “We’ll handle the star. You two can do the ornaments.”

Sierra pouted dramatically, her bottom lip sticking out in protest. “But Laura’s more fun! She said she’d spin me around so I could hang the ornaments way up high.”

“Logan, it’s Christmas,” you teased, nudging him lightly with your elbow. “Let them have fun. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“She falls, and I’ve gotta listen to Sierra scream and you yell at me for letting it happen,” he replied dryly.

“Dad!” Sierra gasped, looking scandalized. “Laura’s not gonna drop me. She’s a ninja.”

“Pretty sure ninjas don’t decorate Christmas trees,” Logan muttered, but the corners of his mouth twitched upward.

Sierra turned to Laura with a grin. “See? He didn’t say no.”

“That’s not—” Logan started, but you cut him off with a quick kiss to his cheek.

“Let them have their fun. We’ll supervise,” you said, your tone leaving no room for argument.

Logan sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Fine. But if anything breaks—”

“Nothing’s gonna break,” Laura interjected, already hoisting Sierra up in her arms. “We’ve got this.”

Sierra let out a delighted squeal as Laura lifted her, and you couldn’t help but laugh as Logan grumbled under his breath, something about how Christmas was supposed to be “calm, not a circus.”

“Relax,” you said softly, leaning against him as you watched the girls. “This is what Christmas is about.”

He glanced at you, his expression softening. “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“I won’t,” you rested your head on his shoulder. “Now, let’s get those lights untangled,” you spoke, moving toward the box of decorations.

“Why do they always come out of the box like this?” he muttered, pulling out a jumbled ball of lights.

“Because you never roll them up properly,” you teased, pulling the end of the strand from his hand.

“Excuse me? I wasn’t the one who packed them last year,” Logan shot back, narrowing his eyes at you.

“Details,” you said with a grin, carefully working the knots apart.

Across the room, Sierra’s laughter rang out as Laura spun her in a slow circle, letting her hang ornaments on the higher branches.

“Faster, Laura!” Sierra squealed.

“Faster, and you’re gonna go flying,” Logan called over his shoulder, his tone a mix of warning and humor.

“She’s fine, Logan,” you reassured, giving him a playful nudge.

“Yeah, I’m fine, Daddy!” Sierra yelled, her voice full of glee. “Laura’s a ninja, remember?”

“That’s what worries me,” Logan muttered under his breath, though his lips twitched with the beginnings of a smile.

“You’re such a softie,” you teased, looping a section of untangled lights around your arm. “Admit it—you love watching them.”

He grunted but didn’t argue, his eyes softening as he glanced toward the girls.

“You gonna help, or am I doing all the work over here?” you asked, holding up the strand of lights.

Logan reached for it, his fingers brushing against yours. “I got it. Don’t need you getting zapped if there’s a bad bulb.”

You rolled your eyes but let him take over, watching as he started stringing the lights around the tree. His movements were precise but slow, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“You do realize it’s not surgery, right? Just wrap them around,” you said, crossing your arms.

“Keep it up, and I’ll let you finish,” he retorted, shooting you a look.

“Touchy,” you teased, stepping back to admire the tree. “But hey, it’s looking good.”

“Duh!” Sierra chimed in, still perched on Laura’s shoulders. “That’s because we’re helping!”

“Helping, huh?” Logan said, pausing to glance at her. “You’re just supervising, same as your mom.”

“Excuse me?” you gasped, feigning offense.

“Yeah, Mommy’s the boss!” Sierra chimed in, sticking her tongue out at Logan.

“Boss of what?” Logan countered, his tone playful. “Boss of making me do all the work?”

“That’s marriage, honey,” you replied with a smirk, leaning over to kiss his cheek again.

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled, but you caught the slight flush creeping up his neck.

“Alright, I think we’re done!” Laura announced, setting Sierra down gently.

The little girl ran to you, beaming. “Did we do a good job, Mommy?”

“The best,” you said, scooping her up and planting a kiss on her cheek.

“Tree’s not even plugged in yet,” Logan pointed out, but the soft smile on his face betrayed his words.

“Then plug it in,” you challenged, nodding toward the outlet.

Logan grabbed the cord and bent down, pausing dramatically as if he were about to detonate a bomb.

“Just plug it in, Dad!” Laura said, rolling her eyes.

The lights flickered on, illuminating the room in a warm glow.

Sierra gasped, her eyes wide with wonder. “It’s so pretty!”

“It’s perfect,” you said softly, wrapping your arms around Logan’s waist as the girls admired their handiwork.

He glanced down at you, his expression tender. “Yeah, it’s not bad.”

“Admit it,” you teased, resting your head against his shoulder. “This is your favorite part.”

He smirked. “You’re my favorite part.”

“Ew! Gross!” Laura groaned, but you caught the smile she tried to hide.

Sierra giggled, clapping her hands. “Kiss her, Daddy!”

“Oh, you’re full of ideas tonight, huh?” Logan said, his gruff exterior melting as he leaned down to kiss you softly.

The girls’ laughter filled the room, and for a moment, everything was perfect.

---

After the girls were in bed and asleep, you and Logan sat on the couch, your feet propped in his lap while you cradled a warm cup of hot chocolate in your hands. The faint glow of the Christmas lights reflected off the window, giving the room a cozy warmth despite the cold outside. Logan had his head tilted back, his eyes half-closed, one hand resting lightly on your shin.

“You good over there?” you asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

He cracked one eye open, smirking. “Tired. You and your Christmas tree schemes wore me out.”

“Schemes?” you repeated with a mock gasp. “Excuse me, but I distinctly remember you being the one who insisted we get a real tree this year.”

“Yeah, and I’m regretting it,” he muttered, his hand absently rubbing your ankle. “Needles everywhere. That thing’s gonna shed all over the place.”

“You’re such a Grinch sometimes, you know that?” you teased, taking a sip of your drink.

He snorted. “A Grinch who carried the tree in, set it up, and tangled with those stupid lights.”

“Hey, I untangled half of those,” you shot back, nudging his side with your foot.

“Half? More like a quarter,” he replied, a small smile tugging at his lips.

You rolled your eyes, leaning forward to set your mug on the coffee table. “Fine, maybe a quarter. But I provided moral support, which is arguably the most important part.”

“Yeah, sure,” he said, but his tone was warm. “Moral support.”

You leaned back, reaching out to cup his face with one hand. “Admit it. You had fun tonight.”

His eyes softened, and for a moment, he just looked at you. “Yeah. It wasn’t bad.”

You laughed, brushing your thumb across his cheek. “That’s as close to a compliment as I’m gonna get, huh?”

“Don’t push your luck,” he said, his voice low and teasing. Before you could pull away, his hand caught your wrist. In one fluid motion, he tugged you down until you were sprawled across his chest.

“Logan!” you yelped, laughing as you tried to balance yourself. “What are you—”

“Getting comfortable,” he interrupted, his hands settling on your waist to keep you steady. “You’re the one who started it.”

You propped your elbows on either side of him, grinning down at his smug expression. “Started what?”

“Touching me. Flirting. Trying to make me all soft and mushy.” His voice was gruff, but his hands rubbed soothing circles into your back.

You raised an eyebrow. “And here I thought I was just being nice.”

“Sure, nice,” he drawled, leaning his head back against the couch cushion. “You’re always up to something.”

“You’re impossible,” you muttered, pressing a quick kiss to his jaw before settling your head on his chest. His heartbeat was steady, his warmth chasing away the lingering December chill.

“Impossible, huh?” he murmured, his hand sliding up to tangle in your hair. “Guess you’re stuck with me.”

“Guess I am,” you replied softly, closing your eyes. “Lucky me.”

His chest rumbled with quiet laughter. “Yeah, lucky you.”

The room fell into a comfortable silence, broken only by the occasional crackle of the fire and the hum of the fridge in the kitchen. You let out a contented sigh, your fingers tracing absent patterns on his chest.

“You know,” you said after a while, your voice muffled against his shirt, “you’re not as grumpy as you pretend to be.”

“Don’t start,” he warned, though there was no heat in his tone.

“It’s true,” you teased, lifting your head to look at him. “You’re just a big softie, Logan. Especially when it comes to the girls.”

He gave you a look, but the corners of his mouth twitched upward. “Keep talking, and you’ll regret it.”

“Is that a threat or a promise?” you quipped, grinning as his hand slid up to cup the back of your neck.

“Both,” he said, pulling you down for a kiss.

The moment was unhurried, warm, and completely yours, a rare pocket of peace in the chaos of life. When he finally pulled back, his lips brushing against yours, you couldn’t help but smile.

“See?” you whispered. “Big softie.”

“Go to bed,” he muttered, his voice gruff but tinged with affection.

“Only if you carry me,” you replied, resting your forehead against his.

He groaned, but his arms tightened around you. “Fine. But if I throw my back out, you’re explaining it to Laura.”

“She’ll just say I’m bossy,” you said with a laugh, wrapping your arms around his neck.

Logan stood effortlessly, holding you close as he made his way toward the bedroom. “That’s because you are,” he muttered, his voice low and full of warmth.

And for once, you didn’t argue.

[spacelatinoluvr]

apartment 315 (part 2) 18+

summary: after living in your apartment for a few months, you and logan start to feel more and more like distant strangers across the hall. that’s until you take another guy home, and logan doesn’t know how to act.   word count: 4.0k pairing: modern!Logan Howlett x fem!reader warnings: angst, smut, jealousy, not so nice name calling tags: fighting, jealous!Logan, modern au, top!Logan, fighting, jealous!Logan, public sex, fingering, dirty talk, dom!Logan, teasing, edging, enemies-ish to lovers, soft logan and laura, happy ending part 1

Logan always chose the cheapest and shittiest beer. The beer that would not have an effect on him. A beer that was barely worth anything. You noticed that Logan would appear in your bar more frequently during your shifts. As if he was watching over you. Like a guardian angel of some sort. It was comforting knowing he was there. 

But one particular Friday night, you were not there. 

Instead, you had been put on a blind date set-up by your friend Darcy. One of her co-workers was apparently your type. As if you had a type. You had just gotten divorced almost a year ago. You didn't want to agree, you were hesitant at first, but Darcy insisted it was just to get you out of your humble abode. And Logan didn't know why you weren't there. And her certainly would not have guessed you were on a date with someone else.

“Please?” Darcy was practically begging over the phone. It was now the beginning of December, and the snow still had not appeared. You were walking up the stairs to your apartment, slightly out of breath. The elevator had still not been fixed, and you had to walk up three flights of stairs everyday. The phone was on your shoulder, tucked under your ear and you reached the third floor beginning to search for your keys in your purse. You stopped looking to answer Darcy. 

“Fine…” Darcy squeaked over the phone and you could imagine her doing a dance at that moment. Your brain flashed back to Logan briefly, remembering what you said to him in the alley. You tried to forget it but every time you saw him at the bar, your heart beat a little faster. 

You had not uttered a word about what had happened between the two of you. To Lee or to Darcy. Not a single soul knew. Truly what you had said to him. You were embarrassed. And you really needed an excuse for an expensive glass of wine. You thought maybe you had gotten to Logan. Maybe he'd finally make a move. Maybe the tension would disappear. But he still remained that same distant neighbor. You still felt like strangers. 

“I'll call you later tonight, Darcy. Lee wanted to binge watch some show-”

You both said your goodbyes before you hung up the phone with a large sigh, leaning your forehead against the door. You really did not want to go on a double date. A blind date at that. But you really needed to leave your home. You needed a break. You had just gotten off an awful shift at the bar, hoping something would- 

“You okay?” You turned around sharply to find Logan edging his way up the stairs, staring at you with concern, his eyebrows slightly bunched together. You nodded, putting your fingers between your forehead and closing your eyes. 

“I just really need a drink,” You said, opening your eyes to find Logan still staring at you. You bit your lip, thinking for a moment. Only for a second before the words came tumbling out of your mouth. “Do you wanna come inside?” An open invitation. And Logan accepted. 

You hurriedly rushed to clean off your kitchen counter of dirty dishes and magazines, muttering under your breath. Logan had his hands in his jacket pockets, looking around your apartment. He took note of how there was an unopened box in the back of the living room. It was fairly clean but a little messy in some parts. You moved around the kitchen before you pulled out two bottles of beer from your fridge. 

“Uh, go ahead and sit on the couch.” You pointed with your head at the couch at the end of the apartment and Logan silently moved towards it. His eye caught on that unopened box again as he sat down. You handed him the beer, hoping he wouldn't bring it up. But to your dismay, he did. 

“What’s in the box?” You smirked, taking a long swig from the beer, the slick feeling of its coolness running down your throat. 

“Body parts,” You answered, and Logan smiled, his eyes narrowing at you. “You're a boxer, right?” Logan paused.

“Was. I was a boxer.”

“Who says you aren't anymore?”

“I do.”

“Well I say you still are one. Look at your hands. What makes you think you aren't one?”

“What's really in the box?”

“Touche.” You stood after a moment, letting out a huff. You turned around grabbing the small box, setting it on the table in front of the couch. The box’s writing was now on display reading “Shit asshole didn't want!”. You slowly opened the box, peering inside to find only three things: a wedding ring, a photo album and an oversized t-shirt. You took the three things out of the box, setting them down next to it. It was quiet again, and Logan took a long sip from his beer before speaking up. 

“There’s a boxing ring downtown…I used to make money off of it. Think of it as gambling. I was the boxer. The Wolverine. It felt illegal even though it wasn’t. And then one night…I lost, breaking my shoulder blade. I’ve been trying to get back into it but with Laura around- it’s difficult.” He took another long swig and moved towards the fireplace on the other end of the room, turning it on before moving to sit back next to Logan, closer than before. 

“I was going to be a professional dancer. A ballerina. It was my first love really. And then I met…” You paused, staring at the fire, anger rising within you for a moment. You calmed yourself, breathing in a deep breath, turning towards Logan. “His name was Ben. He didn’t want me to be a dancer so… I quit. I became some lousy bartender down the street from our cheap apartment-“ 

“You’re not lousy.” You smiled, a crinkle in your eye. 

“Thanks but…I didn’t follow my dream. I followed a man. That’s what made me lousy. Anyway!” You stood abruptly, picking up the things from outside the box and standing next to the fire. 

“This was my favorite oversized t-shirt…” You stood over the flames, throwing it in the fire, watching the remnants of the cotton turn to soot and ash. You grabbed the photo album next flipping through the empty pages, landing on a photo of you and Ben. 

“He didn't want this photo because it was the only one that had just the two of us…” You ripped it out of the album before tearing it to pieces and throwing it in the fire along with the shirt. You watched them burn for a moment, before grabbing the wedding ring, the one you had given him. 

“And this was his wedding ring…it wasn't cheap but…” And you threw the ring in the fire, watching all of your lost memories with your ex-husband fade along with those three reminders. You turned around, clearing your throat and Logan was staring at you just like he was at the halloween party. Just like he was behind the alley.

“Whatever he did…he was a stupid fuck.” Logan had a different sound in his voice when he said that, it was deeper than when he normally spoke. You hummed, sitting back down next to him.

“He was a really stupid fuck.” You laughed, leaning to pick up your beer. You took a long swig, feeling Logan watching you from the corner of your eye. You turned towards him, fully facing him as you crossed your legs on the couch. 

“Where’s Laura tonight?” You asked, taking another sip from your beer, it now begins to slowly empty itself. Logan grimaced slightly, shaking his head. 

“She's with Mrs. Baker…she wanted to knit with Laura.” He sounded upset when he said it and all you could do was let out a laugh, covering your mouth quickly when it escaped you. 

“Laura knitting? Wow, I can imagine her having so much fun right now.” You said sarcastically, laughing after your sentence. Logan smiled. He actually smiled. His eyes crinkled slightly, the lines across his forehead smashing together. For what felt like the first time you’d seen him grin at you. And it made you ecstatic. You felt accomplished. Someone else besides Laura had finally gotten the grump across the hall to smile. And it was genuine. Not the snarky ones he had given you before. But it was a truly happy smile. 

”Yeah she’s…different,” He said, still smiling whilst bringing the bottle to his lips. “You guys are similar.”

You leaned towards him. “How so?”

“You’re both just…different from everyone else.” Now it was your turn to smile.

“I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.” Logan scoffed, taking another sip from the beer. 

“Doubt it.”

“I bet you can’t give me another good compliment.” He hid another smile behind his bottle. And then his smile was gone, another look appearing in his eyes as he set the now empty beer bottle on the table. And damn you wished you could make him smile again. Maybe get a chuckle or a small laugh. But no. The look you got now was not a smile or a cocky grin, it was serious and hard. Like he was staring into your mind and soul. Staring right into you. 

“Well for one you are…attractive.” He paused before saying the last word, averting his eyes from yours. His cheeks turned a light shade of pink, and if the fire didn't glow so bright you might not have caught it. 

“And what does that mean?” You leaned closer to him, tilting your head to the side. He glanced down, looking at your lips. And then he moved even closer to you. It was as if a flip switched inside of him. 

“I like your hair…” He reached his hand to touch your hair, moving away a piece that had fallen in front of your eyes. You watched him as his warm hand paused right before touching your face. His fingertips slowly panned down your face. “Your eyes…” His hand traced your face delicately, stopping right before your chin. “Your lips…” He reached your chin, holding it in his hand, grazing your lips softly with his thumb. His thumb pulled open your lips, your mouth parted slightly. You held your breath, waiting for his next move.

His hand left your face, encasing your neck, grazing the exposed skin. 

“Your neck,” He wanted to kiss the skin, leaving marks in the place of his lips. His hand trailed again, now on your shoulder. “Your shoulders.” His hand was laying on your shoulder, and you scooted towards him but he abruptly pulled away, flexing his hand when it reached his side. Your eyebrows creased, and you reached towards him, your hand about to land on his cheek but he pulled away fast. So fast that you almost fell on top of him, but he couldn't look at you. 

“What-”

“I should go.” Logan stood abruptly, almost flushed, as he made his way to the door. You sat there stunned for a moment, staring ahead of you as the door opened. Logan was standing there, waiting for you to say something. Anything. But you didn't. You sat there, silent. The door slammed shut moments later, the only sound that was heard was the crackling of fire. 

That Friday night, you arrived at the restaurant thirty minutes before the time Darcy had instructed you. You wore a short black dress, one you haven't worn in years since before you were married. One you wanted Logan to rip off- No. You were here on a date with another man. Not to have thoughts of your neighbor. 

You were the first one there, so you sat at the table, anxiously tapping your foot on the ground whilst sipping on a glass of water. It was now five minutes before the time and you were starting to think you got the wrong time. Maybe you-

Someone called your name from behind you. 

“Hi Uh, I’m Charles.” He stuck his hand forward, and you stared at it for a moment before smiling and gripping his sweaty palm. You introduced yourself, inviting him to sit down in front of you. Your phone went off, and you picked it up staring at the text Darcy had sent you: sorry we can’t make it! have fun! ;)

You angrily shut off your phone, taking a large gulp of water. Of course it was a set up. 

“Is something wrong?” Charles asked and you choked on your water slightly, still mid sip. You eventually swallowed the water, nodding your head. 

“Yeah everythings perfect. Darcy just texted me that she couldn't make it.” Charles smiled lightly, looking into his lap. 

“Yes, well that is not a surprise.” He laughed, and it was awkwardly silent before you asked him a question. 

“So um, you work with Darcy?” He nodded, the waiter arriving with two glasses of red wine, setting them in front of you both. 

“Yes.” He responded, and you waited for him to say something else but he sat there quietly sipping on his wine. This guy is a talker…

The rest of the night went on like that. You ask him a question and he'd give you a short one word answer. It was exhausting. But, damn, he was attractive. But he wasn't Logan. He wasn't the man across the hall. The man that had voluntarily touched your face. The man that you had wanted to want you back. But, he wouldn't do it. And that made you angry. So angry that you had brought this mysterious man back to your apartment after your date. You pulled him up the stairwell, your hand in his. Your black dress rode up your thighs as you went up but you didn't care. You didn't give a damn. You didn't give a single fuck. Because this man wanted you. And that's all the permission you needed. For someone to finally want you back. 

His hand trailed down to your ass, squeezing gently and you couldn't help but think of Logan. Wishing it was him instead. You reached your door, fumbling with the keys in your hand. You were nervous. The keys fell to the ground, and Charles bent to pick them up, rising in front of your face. He twirled them in his hand, before his mouth landed on yours quickly. You gasped as his lips met yours, not reciprocating the kiss at first. And then it dawned on you. Why did you care? In a second, your hands were running through his hair, tugging it harshly and he groaned when you did it. He pushed you against the door, his lips trailing down your neck. Your eyes were closed, your mouth agape. When your eyes opened, they met the gaze of someone across the hall.

They met the gaze of Logan. Logan was stationed on the stairwell, his hand gripping the handrail so hard you could see the blood from his knuckles already seeping through the loose bandages that covered his hands. He stared into your eyes, not even daring to look away from you. He was breathing heavily, his chest heaving with every moment Charles lips trailed lower and lower.

He watched as his hands trailed down your thighs and under your dress. He watched it, not uttering a single word. And then he looked hurt; disappointed. He shook his head, slowly dragging his feet as he walked towards his apartment. The door opened quietly, and Logan stopped for a moment before he entered slamming the door loudly on his way in. 

The sound of the door slamming startled Charles and he jumped away from you, breathing heavily. 

“Sorry I-” He began to say, but you cut him off. You didn't want this. You didn't want him. 

“You're a sloppy kisser,” You deadpanned, turning to open your door with your keys. You opened the door, pausing to say one more thing. 

“And you're boring.” The door slammed shut. 

That same night, you lay in bed in only an oversized tee tossing and turning. You couldn't sleep. You rose from your bed, still only in your underwear. You sagged yourself outside your door, leading to Lee’s apartment. Just before you knocked on her door, you stopped yourself. What were you doing? It was two in the morning. Lee most likely was not asleep but you didn't want to wake her. You didn't want to bother her with your troubles. 

You sighed, running your hands through your hair before turning around. Logan was in the middle of closing his door, and he stopped only staring at you. Only staring at you, solely in your underwear. Staring at your exposed legs. And then he looked away, almost as if he was remembering something. Remembering past events. A dark look overtook his eyes when he glanced back at you and you fought the urge to clench your legs together. 

Logan had not been able to sleep either. He sat on his couch waiting…waiting for your door to open. Because Logan knew exactly what sound your door made every time you opened it. 

“Have fun?” Logan grumbled, setting a trash bag outside of his door. You scoffed, pulling your shirt down to your knees. You tried to at least cover your thighs, but the shirt just bunched up reaching the ends of your inner thigh. 

“You know what Logan,” You looked at the ground. “You’re such a fucking hypocrite.” Your eyes raised to meet his. 

“Excuse me?”

“I said you’re a fucking hypocrite!” You stepped towards him, away from Lee’s door. He shook his head, his lip curling upwards.

“And you’re a slut. What's worse?” He turned towards his door, opening it but you shot forwards, your bare feet padding across the ground. You slammed Logan’s door shut with your back before he could enter, and he backed away, a long sigh escaping through his nose. 

“Fuck you. You don't get to call me that. That is not fair.” Your finger pointed at his face, almost touching his mouth. His lips parted, as if thinking about his next words carefully. 

“Well you did fuck a guy you just met.” Logan inched towards you, his face now hovering over yours. 

“I didn't sleep with him! Jesus- what is your-” Logan bounded forward, bringing your head towards his, his lips meeting yours in a furious kiss. At first you crinkled up below him, not prepared for that. But then you melted into his hands, as he kept kissing you, his hands placed firmly between your two cheeks. You kissed him back just as hard, if not harder than he expected. He enjoyed tasting you for the first time. He wanted to relish in it. He wanted to feel you for the rest of his life. 

Your back hit the door of his apartment, Logan’s hands traveling lower to grip at your shirt, lightly lifting it above your stomach. His hand encased across your stomach, tracing it lightly with his rough fingers. You pulled away from him, hitting the back of your head on the door again. 

“I'm sorry I-” You were breathing through your mouth, trying to calm your heartbeat. 

“Shut up. Just shut the fuck up.” Logan growled deeply, and you felt your heart quicken as he put his hands between your head, diving in for another kiss. And you accepted. His hand trailed down your stomach again, this time not stopping. He paused right before the top of your underwear, almost uncertain. He played with the panty lines, almost tugging them off of you. But you ripped your lips away from his. 

“What are you-” Logan’s fingers went under your underwear, and you let out a gasp as his fingered glazed over your core, and you jutted your hips forward, a gasp leaving your lips. 

“I’m taking what is mine. Isn't that what you wanted?” His fingers, his calloused and large fingers slowly inserted themselves into you. You were wet. You were surprised at how aroused you had gotten by the previous argument. How much making him angry turned you on. Logan’s fingers curled inside you, and it took everything in you to not buckle beneath him. 

“Fuck-” You moaned and Logan pumped in again before you gripped his shoulders with both of your hands, squeezing tightly, your head falling on the door again.  

“Quiet…” He whispered, starting to pump in and out of you at a faster pace. His other hand trailed down your stomach, reaching your thighs. Your beautiful thighs. He squeezed one, running his thumb across the space of your exposed skin, his fingers pausing inside you. 

“I wanted to kill him,” Your mouth opened in a silent plea as he stopped pumping inside you, a groan leaving his lips. “For touching you, touching what's mine.” A quiet moan left your lips, so soft like music to Logan’s ears. “And that dress…I wish I had gotten the chance to rip it off of you.” He wanted to watch it drop to the floor, he wanted to not just rip, but tear, that dress off of you. Because you were his, and only his. He began pumping inside of you again, more vigorously now and all you could do was try not to crumble against the door. 

“Please,” Your mouth opened again, a loud moan releasing itself from you and Logan’s hand that had been on your thigh reached up and cupped itself over your mouth. You breathed out heavily, that familiar feeling building up inside of you. “Please, Logan.”

“You have to be quiet.” He reprimanded, and your legs were starting to feel like jello now. You were so close, Logan’s eyes were only on you as he kept pumping his fingers in and out. His pace fastened, and your breathing was getting heavier and your hands now gripped the one covering your mouth. A muffled moan escaped from you, and your eyes closed slightly as you chased your high, about to-. 

And then Logan stopped, his fingers leaving from inside of you and your eyes opened to see him smirking at you. 

“What the fuck?” You asked, your mouth open in shock. Only a few seconds longer and you would have released all over his hand. In front of his apartment. In the hallway of your building. Your cheeks got red, and you touch them with your hands. There had to be cameras, right? 

“Oh my god we're gonna get arrested for-” Logan laughed, shaking his head. 

“Were not going to get arrested,” And then he looked you up and down, almost instantly noticing your uncomfortable stance. “Here.”

He took his coat off, putting it around your shoulders, reaching behind you. And then he pulled you into a long hug, after the coat had been sat on your shoulders. You looked so small and frail, but your eyes still had a euphoric gloss in them. It took everything in Logan not to take you right then and there. Because truly he didnt care where it was that he fucked you. He just needed you. 

But instead he kissed the top of your head and you sighed, wrapping your arms around him as well. It was comfortable standing like that. It wasn't awkward. Just comfortable. He then picked you up bridal style and you gasped laughing as he did, opening the door of his apartment. You looked over at the apartment in front of you, right before you entered, reading the numbers three-fifteen. You wondered what would have happened if you picked a different apartment complex. If you didn't go on that atrocious date. 

So before you went to bed that night, Logan asleep next to you, you silently thanked apartment 315. 

a/n: wow I was NOT expecting people to actually read the first part omg. I really appreciate everyone’s comments! I wrote this during my work breaks lmfao. I wanted to get it out asap. Thank you so much for reading! This is my first time ever writing smut so I’m not too sure how good I did but we’ll see… until next time you horny fucks! Also they did NOT freak… i couldn't stop thinking about Laura being next door to that so… lol

taglist: @needz1nk, @likeficsinthewnd

cross-posted on ao3:

[emmcfrxst]

the thought of reader giving Laura the childhood she never had plagues my mind consistently <33

buying her a whole bunch of dolls, toy cars, legos and plushies so she can not only experience diversity in child’s play but also fulfill her needs of just. being a little girl. she plays with all of the toys you buy her and she’s very grateful but she’s deeply emotionally attached to the first plushie you ever buy her, a soft little monkey plush, because she’d never had anything of her own before, especially not a present, and it meant so much to her that you would do that that she becomes inseparable with the monkey. sleeps with it every single night, her little face buried in the soft fur. giving it to her remains one of your best decisions ever; you’d done it in hopes of bonding with her, but also because she deserves to live her life as a child. she carries it everywhere, including when she plays outside, standing still in front of the washing machine and staring at it tumble around with a frown on her face when it has to be washed after falling in the mud (laura had been climbing a tree with the plushie in one hand when she accidentally dropped it), the beaming smile coming back to her face when she can have it after it’s dried

[earthtoharlow]

Teach Me: Jealousy, Jealousy

series masterlist

requested by a lovely anon 🫶

The Back to School event was in full swing with parents chatting, kids running around, and the occasional burst of laughter filling the school gym. Ariel was in her element, organizing activities, ensuring everything ran smoothly, and greeting the parents with a warm smile. It was a big night for her—after weeks of planning, she wanted everything to be perfect.

Jack had promised to stop by after leaving the studio and as she arranged a table of refreshments, she spotted him entering the gym. Instantly, her heart did a little flip. He was hard to miss, tall and charismatic, with a natural aura that drew people in. She watched as he greeted a few familiar faces, his smile as charming as ever.

As Jack made his way toward her, she noticed something else: the way several of the other moms were watching him. Some of them she knew well—other teachers, classroom volunteers, the occasional mom she’d seen at school pick-up. But tonight, they seemed particularly attentive to her husband’s presence. They weren’t just noticing him; they were lingering, eyes following him with more than casual interest.

One of her former students' mom, Laura immediately broke off her conversation and headed straight to Jack. Ariel watched as Laura introduced herself, laughing a bit too loudly at something her husband said. Then, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, Laura rested a hand on his arm, her fingers lingering just a bit too long.

Ariel immediately became irritated. She knew her husband was attractive—of course, she did. But seeing the other moms flirt with him, right in front of her, stirred something deeper.

She tried to focus on her tasks, but it was impossible to ignore what was happening. Another mom, Janet who always seemed overly friendly, joined Laura, and the two of them flanked towards Jack, their attention fully on him. They laughed, twirled their hair, and practically ignored the fact that his wife was standing just a few feet away.

Jack, seemingly oblivious to the effect he was having, smiled politely and engaged in their conversation, though she noticed he was trying to inch his way closer to her. Still, it wasn’t fast enough for her liking.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Jack made his way to her, leaving the two women behind. He slipped an arm around her waist and leaned in, concern flickering in his eyes. “You okay?” he asked, his voice low so only she could hear.

Ariel forced a smile, but the words tumbled out before she could stop them. “It’s just…some of these moms seem really interested in you tonight.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Really? I hadn’t noticed, but can you really blame them?”

She rolled her eyes, unable to keep the edge out of her voice. “Come on, you had to notice. They’re practically falling over themselves to get your attention.”

Jack chuckled, pulling her a little closer. “You’re the only one I’m interested in.”

Ariel wanted to stay mad, to hold on to the jealousy that had caught her off guard, but his words—and the way he looked at her—melted her resolve. “I know, it’s just… I don’t like sharing you.”

His grin widened as he leaned down to kiss her forehead. “Good, because I’m not up for sharing, either.” He paused, then added with a playful look in his eyes, “Besides, they’re probably just trying to figure out how I got so lucky to have you.”

Ariel couldn’t help but laugh at that, the last of her irritation melting away. “You always know how to say the right thing.”

Jack shrugged, looking around the room as if to make sure no one was listening, then whispered, “Well, you are the smartest, most beautiful woman here. They’re probably just jealous.”

She nudged him playfully, feeling the warmth of his arm around her. “Okay, now you’re just flattering me.”

“Is it working?” he asked, grinning.

She sighed, her heart swelling with love. “Yeah, it’s working.”

As the event wound down and the last few parents trickled out of the gym, Jack stayed close, helping her clean up.

Once the final table was folded and the last chair stacked, Jack leaned casually against the wall, watching her as she tidied up the remaining odds and ends. His gaze was warm, but there was something else in his expression—a playful glint that made her pause.

“What?” Ariel asked, arching an eyebrow.

He grinned, taking a step closer. “You know,” he began, his voice dropping to a low, teasing tone, “I think it’s kind of hot that you got jealous.”

She felt her cheeks warm, a mix of embarrassment and amusement bubbling up inside her. “Hot?” she repeated, trying to keep her voice steady. “You think me getting all worked up over a few flirty moms is hot?”

Jack nodded, closing the distance between them. “Absolutely. It means you care—means you’re a little protective of what’s yours.”

Ariel tried to keep a straight face, but his words and that mischievous smile were making it impossible. “Oh, so now you’re ‘mine,’ huh?”

“Since I first walked into your classroom” he said, his tone suddenly more serious as he reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “And always will be.”

She shook her head, laughing softly. “You know, you’re pretty smooth when you want to be.”

He pulled her into his arms, his smile turning softer. “Only with you,” he murmured, brushing his lips against her forehead. “Because you’re worth it.”

***

Tag List

(message me if you'd like to be added or removed)

@heavyhitterheaux @hoodharlow @neon-lights-and-glitter @babiefries @toocriticalharlow @jackmans-poison @dstark-0706 @harlowsbby @itsyagirljaz @leftapricotprofessorlover @minkookie95 @harlowcomehome @jackharloww @jaydaaasworld @kkrenae @hufflewhore128 @w1ldthoughts @realwifeofjackharlow @halfmoondaze @katiaw2

[richiekirschs]

SHE’S MY BABY — Spider-Man!Lottie Matthews

spider-boy, king of thieves…

warnings— no use of y/n, fem implied reader (referred to as “unsuspecting girl”), lottie is vaguely hurt

[part 2]

The Yellowjackets had been spreading their theories about Spider-Man since he was first spotted in New York, just across the river.

It was surprisingly Misty who came up with the theory that he was actually from Jersey City, after how many times he’d been spotted on the ferry that takes you across the Hudson from Midtown. Nat had disagreed, stating that he was probably in Jersey City so often because of the amount of freaks patrolling the streets.

Most of your teammates think it’s stupid—with Jackie saying it’s just some asshole trying to get on Subway Creatures, and Tai saying the guy in the suit just wants to piss off J. Jonah Jameson. Laura Lee thinks he’s devilish. Nat indulges in the fantasies after having witnessed one of Spider-Man’s fights firsthand (and also because she likes to piss off Jackie.)

The girls are all over at your apartment tonight for the regularly scheduled movie night. Everyone takes turns— last time it was Tai, and now it was you.

You’re in the bathroom washing your hands when there’s a THUD! from the fire escape outside the bathroom window.

You frown, wondering if you should check. Is it your neighbors, smoking a blunt? Or is there maybe a cat that needs help?

You yank up the blinds to check, deciding it’s better to know than risk it distracting you the rest of the night.

It’s not your neighbors, and it’s definitely not a stray cat.

It’s Spider-Man.

You can’t do much but freeze and mumble, “You’re shitting me.”

He stares back at you with comically wide, unblinking eyes. He points at the windowsill and mimes pushing it up before silently pleading with his hands.

You sigh. Of course this would happen. All you can do as you unlock the window is pray that it’s actually Spider-Man, and not some douche in a costume looking to take advantage of an unsuspecting girl.

You push the window up and he tumbles to the ground of the bathroom, somehow remaining inhumanly quiet.

In the process, though, he aggressively knocks a (glass) bottle of perfume off of the counter.

“Shit!” you hiss.

“Are you okay?” someone calls. Maybe Nat? It definitely could’ve been Van.

“Yeah!” you call before turning back to the masked vigilante. “You have 30 seconds to explain yourself.”

Spider-Man holds up a finger, chest heaving, before reaching up under his mask and yanking it off.

It’s not a man at all. It’s Lottie, your best friend who was conveniently missing from tonight’s get-together.

Your jaw drops. “What the f—?”

You don’t get the chance to finish your exclamation as she bolts up to clamp a hand over your mouth. “Shh!”

You frown back at her, trying to convey your emotion with your eyes.

“I’ll explain, I promise,” she assures you. “But I’m hurt. I just got my ass kicked. I need you to help me, but you can’t tell the others.”

You don’t respond. Her hand is still over your mouth.

“Promise me!” she hisses, begging.

You nod frantically, and she slowly removes her hand. “I can’t believe you’re a girl. I was betting major money with Nat that Spider-Man was Jeff Sadecki.”

She narrows her eyes at you. “Jesus Christ. Are you going to help me or not?”

“I can’t do that if you don’t tell me where you’re hurt!”

She swallows, unable to meet your eyes. “Under my suit.”

You sigh at her. “Can you stand?”

“I think so.” She manages to stumble to her feet, and you help her unzip the suit, both of you flushed bright red.

“Don’t tell me you’re embarrassed, Lot,” you tease as she collapses onto the closed toilet. “We’ve changed in front of each other a billion times.”

“These aren’t ideal circumstances,” she groans.

Her wound isn’t too bad, but it probably hurts like a bitch. Sliced across her leg, the cut slowly oozes blood. Her knuckles are scraped up, too. There’s already green-yellow bruises forming around both wounds.

“It’s not awful,” you assure her. “They just need to be cleaned and get bandaged.”

You dig out isopropyl alcohol and a rag before a apologizing for the pain you’re about to cause her.

She whimpers as you clean the gash on her leg and wrap gauze around it, and you have to pray that she doesn’t see the way your face burns.

Someone rattles the door handle. “Are you still in there?”

Laura Lee. With a start, you realize you didn’t lock the door.

You and Lottie lock wide eyes with each other before you’re yanking her up and shoving her into the shower. She shoots a web to seal the curtain to the wall, tucking herself behind it.

The door swings open, and Laura Lee peers around from behind it. “Hey, we were thinking about ordering pizza—is that your blood?”

You look down at your hands, but it’s not yours. It’s Lottie’s, from where you had wiped it from her leg. You need to think of a lie, and quick.

“Oh,” you shrug in a hopefully nonchalant manner. “My nose started bleeding, and I put my hand over it while I got the rag.”

Laura Lee, of course, steps in to investigate. “Did it stop? We should say a prayer.”

You gently swat her prodding hands away. “Yeah, I’m fine. It stopped. I just didn’t get the chance to wash my hands.”

“Really,” Laura Lee insists. “We should say a prayer. This could be a sign of something.”

“Yeah,” you mumble, “of a ruptured blood vessel.”

You indulge in Laura Lee’s plead anyway, and pray that Lottie can resist her urges to laugh during Laura Lee’s prayer like she always does.

Lottie knows she doesn’t have much time.

She carefully slides the suit back on before slipping out of the very window she’d come through. From there, she makes a Pink Panther-esque getaway a few feet away from that window to the one that leads to your bedroom.

She carefully slides the bedroom window shut before flinging open a dresser drawer in hopes for some clean clothes. She digs out a Kean University pullover and plaid pajama pants. It’ll have to do.

She stashes the suit in the spot that she’d swiped the clothes from, and just as she shuts the drawer, she freezes. Someone’s coming.

There’s nowhere to hide. Your bed sits atop a wooden bed frame, meaning she won’t—can’t—fit underneath. Your closet isn’t big enough either. That only leaves…

When Nat swings the door open, she completely expects to find someone in a striped shirt with a sack of money over their shoulder. Something is being very noisy in your room, and she’s intrigued to know what could possibly be causing such a ruckus.

Instead, she finds… nothing.

She checks under your bed, even though nobody besides a small child could fit between the planks of your bed frame. She checks your closet. Hell, she checks the fire escape.

Nothing.

“Hm,” she decides, but there’s something… not right. There’s an itch under her skin that won’t go away.

When Nat leaves, Lottie can’t help but breathe a sigh of relief.

She carefully lets herself down from the ceiling with a breath of, “Holy shit,” and a hand pressed to her chest.

There’s still work left to be done, though.

Quietly this time, she swings back out onto the fire escape.

There’s a knock on your front door, and you frown. Everybody’s here, and Misty didn’t say that they had already ordered the pizza, just that they were thinking about it.

You quickly rinse your hands of Lottie’s red blood before following Misty to the door.

Low and behold, the new guest is Lottie fucking Matthews.

You feign surprise at the sight of her. “Hey, I thought you weren’t coming!”

She walks over to you, arms open wide, limping ever so slightly as she engulfs you in a hug. “It’s a long story.”

Through a faux grin, you growl, “Tomorrow, we’re going to get coffee, and you’re going to explain everything.”

“Deal.”

KITTY MEOWS! I kept seeing Spider!Lottie edits on TikTok and there was an itch in my bones that could only be satisfied by writing this…

[beeftony]

I saw the "Can I kiss you?" plastered around the internet well before I saw the episode, so I was not at all prepared for the way Laura delivered the line; the way the words seemed to leap out of her throat, like a thought that Imogen had been grasping so tightly it just... slipped out, and it was too late to take back. Something she'd been waiting so long to ask but at the same time it came out too soon, and she had no choice but to barrel ahead.

When Fjord asked the same question of Jester a campaign earlier, it was cautious, tremulous, ready to be rescinded in a moment if she didn't go for it... but the way it practically tumbled out of Imogen's mouth the same way she tumbled down those stairs... it's beautiful and haphazard and thrilling, everything about her summed up in a single, desperate question.

[laurasimonsdaughter]

Pack dynamics for domestic urban fantasy werewolves:

● They're never exclusively werewolves. Werewolves have a habit of aggressively adopting everyone they are fond of and when you've won the trust and affection of one, the rest come along in a package deal.

● They're territorial in the protective sense. No trouble in our neighborhood. No hunger in our houses. No fear on our streets.

● They hold grudges. Shopkeeper overcharged one of the pack members in their store? None of them will shop there again. Restaurant owner yelled at one the cubs who got a job there washing up? They've just lost all their hungriest diners.

● Young werewolves think the word "pack" is way too old fashioned and prefer words like crowd, crew, fam, and swarm. ("Honestly, honey, swarm? What are we, pigeons?")

● They're nosy. The upside is no one with a werewolf pack to back them up will ever be left to fend for themselves. The downside is that everyone is always sticking their hairy noses in.

● They vary greatly in size. In some places, especially more rural ones, it's not uncommon to find entire villages that are basically one pack. In other places they might only have a dozen members, scattered about. And many packs start with a set of two or three going somewhere new to build a life and a community.

[wileys-russo]

baby veen puppy love ficlet?

puppy love

you perked up hearing a series of knocks at your door, grinning at the familiar pattern. "secret knock was correct. password?" you teased, throwing open the door and grinning happily at your girlfriend. "hip hip hooray?" laura guessed, both of you giggling as the blonde launched at you.

"missed you today." she mumbled out among kisses, neither of you having seen one another as you'd had to train separately all day, laura now in the critical stages of her rehab. "missed you more." you smiled, tangling your hands in her hair as hers gripped your hips.

"missed you most." she managed out before nipping at your bottom lip teasingly, your back hitting the frame of your lounge. "no way." you argued with a shake of your head, eye to eye with the defender who couldn't stop smiling.

"way. be careful!" "careful of wha-lau!" you squealed as the austrian suddenly grabbed your thighs, effectively hauling your body over the back of the couch and sending it tumbling onto the cushions below.

"hallo!" she beamed adorably, landing softly on top of you as you smacked her shoulder. "you be careful!" you warned, lightly tapping her knee which sat by your hip. "i am always careful." she rolled her eyes playfully.

"did you just imagine that the lounge was the barrier at that match? up and over goes the tiny tank!" you teased, your girlfriends face blushing bright red at the memory as she flopped down and hid her face in your neck with a small groan, mumbling a string of german into your skin.

"i was trying to get the ball." she huffed, pulling her head back with a frown as you repeatedly pecked her lips, determined to rid them of her grumpy pout. "i'm so glad we can do this again." you sighed happily, arms wrapping around her as the two of you lay down in a tight hug.

leah progressing well with her own recovery meant your sister was finally no longer in need of a carer and had moved back to her own place, leaving yours once more a sanctuary of peace and quiet. and it meant your girlfriend, who could now drive again, could come and go whenever she pleased.

"no more mum and dad yelling at us about keeping a door open." laura nodded in agreement, your nose scrunching up as her silver blonde strands of hair ticked your face. "viv is definitely the dad." you hummed, slipping a hand up lauras hoodie and gently scratching her back feeling her arch happily into you.

"no i think it is beth. viv does all of the cooking and the cleaning and the work. beth just...well she is beth." laura struggled to get out her words, opting for a shrug as you hummed.

"you know liebling there is something else we have not done for too long." laura sat up, cheeky grin on her face as she quickly tied her hair up into a messy bun. "hmmm, played monopoly?" you teased, the austrian shaking her head.

"nooo, guess again." she whispered, lips ghosting yours. "hmmm, no i can't think of anything." you smiled as she rolled her eyes. "lau!" you squealed as suddenly you were over her shoulder and she was marching off to your bedroom.

"laura no put me down! baby your knee is still healing!" you worried, grunting softly as she did as you asked and dropped you onto your bed. "don't do that!" you warned her with a scowl, sitting up and pushing her.

"why? i am strong. tiny tank, no?" she flexed her arms, rolling up her sleeves and making a series of funny faces, determined to have you smile again. "don't be cute. i'm serious, i love you and i don't want anything else bad to happen." you spoke a little more seriously now, your girlfriend dropping down beside you.

"i am sorry love, i will be careful." she promised, moving your hair behind your ear as you nodded. "your english is getting really good." you complimented, causing her cheeks to flush a rosy pink. "you help a lot." she poked your own cheeks with her finger and a shy smile.

"wish i could say the same about your german. terrible!" laura sighed as you scoffed. "it's getting better!" you defended, laura withholding the urge to tease you for how much you looked like your sister with your eyebrows knitted into a grumpy frown.

"okay." with that she spoke a few sentences to you in german, clearly awaiting your response. "yes?" you guessed slowly, laura rolling her eyes. "you do not even try!" your girlfriend laughed, kissing away your pout as you had done to her just moments ago.

"german is hard!" you whined with a huff. "kiss me. do not need any language for that." laura grinned leaning in to connect your lips to hers again.

but right as she tugged your body to melt back into hers, and her tongue starting to explore the roof of your mouth did you hear your front door bang suddenly.

"who is that?" laura pulled away as both of you looked out of the bedroom, the front door popping open as a familiar bundle of blonde hair stumbled through. "leah?" you yelled out, groaning as your sister called back from the kitchen.

"oh hi laura! i thought we could have a pizza night?" your sister leaned in your doorway, your girlfriend giving her a friendly wave as you pushed her hand down with a frown. "get out of my house!"

"no! i miss your cooking." leah admitted, kicking her feet and staring down at the floor. "laura and i have plans leah." you hinted, glaring at her as the blonde only rolled her own eyes.

"you can have sex all you want once i leave, i won't even tell beth and viv. just make me dinner and i'll be out of your hair!" leah grinned causing you to groan again, the older girl backing away and you heard her throw herself down onto your lounge and flick on the tv, far too at home for your liking.

"i like pizza." laura smiled, grabbing your defeated face in her hands and smoothing out your eyebrows with her thumbs. "she is your sister. come on!" the blonde encouraged, taking your hands and pulling you to your feet as you collapsed into her, burying your face in her shoulder with a deep sigh.

"fine. but tomorrow i'm getting the locks changed!"

[fazcinatingblog]

james would receive the letter from cordelia, not even open it, run around to cordelia's house naked with a dozen roses in his mouth (forget that it's winter there currently) and burst into the house when they're having dinner

[urdreamydoodles]

X-Men x Reader (Part.2)

You are being mind-controled by a villain and you believe your lover cheated on you (Part.2)

A fog has settled between you, a cruel illusion woven by unseen hands. You now look at your beloved with wounded eyes, twisted by whispers that cloud your trust.

Characters: Wanda Maximoff, Pietro Maximoff, Emma Frost, Laura Kinney, Wade Wilson, Cable, Hank McCoy, Colossus, Magik, Warren Worthington III & Alex Summers

Wanda Maximoff aka. The Scarlet Witch

- When you confronted Wanda, your voice cracked with pain as you accused her of something unimaginable: betrayal. Her usually warm, compassionate gaze turned pained and wide-eyed as she tried to process what you were saying. Wanda listened in stunned silence, her hands reaching out to you but hovering, unsure whether her touch would comfort or drive you further away. Her lips trembled, her voice barely above a whisper as she denied your accusations, her confusion mirroring your own hurt.

- "I’d never do that to you," she murmured, the hurt in her voice raw and palpable. Wanda’s eyes glistened with unshed tears as she watched you step back, taking your accusations like wounds to the heart. She tried to explain, reaching out to touch your arm, but your mistrust made you pull away, leaving her standing there, alone and heartbroken.

- In the days that followed, Wanda grew withdrawn, her usual warmth replaced by a quiet, haunting sorrow. She would cast glances your way, her gaze searching, desperate for some hint of understanding. You saw her retreating into herself, losing herself in her spells and practices, the vibrant energy she once shared with you fading like a dying flame.

- After a week, the mind control finally lifted, and the cruel reality of the villain’s manipulation settled heavily on your heart. The betrayal you’d felt was nothing but a twisted illusion, and the memory of Wanda’s tearful gaze lingered, a reminder of the pain you’d caused. Knowing you couldn’t leave things as they were, you sought her out, needing to make things right and to show her that your love hadn’t wavered.

- You found Wanda in the garden, her hands moving in gentle patterns as she conjured small, delicate lights that danced around her fingers. She looked up at the sound of your footsteps, her expression shifting between relief and wariness as you approached. Stammering, you explained the mind control, your apology pouring out as you confessed the regret that had haunted you since that day.

- Wanda’s face softened as she listened, a mix of sorrow and relief filling her eyes. She reached out, her touch warm and forgiving as she placed a hand on your cheek, brushing away the tears that had begun to fall. "I forgive you," she whispered, her voice as soft as the magic she wielded. Wanda pulled you close, her embrace gentle yet firm, a silent promise that she understood and would stand by you.

- That evening, as you sat together beneath the stars, Wanda wove delicate illusions, creating constellations that glowed above you. In her magic, you found comfort and forgiveness, her warmth rekindling the trust between you. She leaned against you, her head resting on your shoulder, a silent reminder that despite the pain and doubt, love could prevail, stronger and more resilient than any darkness.

Pietro Maximoff aka. Quicksilver

- The confrontation with Pietro was fast, heated, and painful, your accusations spilling out in a wave of hurt and anger. Pietro, normally so confident and quick-witted, looked stunned, his usual cocky grin vanishing as he stared at you in disbelief. His quick retorts faltered as he tried to defend himself, his words tumbling out as fast as his thoughts, each one tinged with desperation.

- “Why would you even think that?” he exclaimed, his voice cracking as he attempted to make sense of your accusations. Pietro took a shaky step back, running a hand through his silver hair, his frustration evident as he tried to explain himself. Despite his protests, the doubt and pain in your eyes cut through him, leaving him visibly wounded as he watched you walk away, his usually confident demeanor shattered.

- In the days that followed, Pietro’s energy dimmed, his usual lighthearted, quick-talking spirit replaced by a sullen silence. You saw him running alone, pushing himself faster than usual, as if speed could somehow escape the weight of what had happened. Whenever you crossed paths, his gaze would shift away quickly, a mixture of hurt and longing flickering across his face before he sped off again, leaving a gust of wind in his wake.

- After a week, the villain’s manipulation lifted, and the full reality of what had happened hit you like a shockwave. Every accusation, every hurtful word you’d thrown at him had been based on nothing but lies and illusions, a cruel attempt to shatter what you had together. Overcome with regret, you sought him out, determined to make amends and to explain what had truly happened.

- You found Pietro by the lake, pacing back and forth, his agitation evident as he mumbled to himself. When he noticed you, his pacing stopped, his gaze wary but hopeful as he waited for you to speak. With a heavy heart, you explained the mind control that had twisted your thoughts, your apology flowing out in a rush as you tried to show him how deeply sorry you were.

- Pietro’s tense stance softened as he listened, his familiar cocky grin returning, albeit with a hint of sadness. "You know, I can outrun a lot of things, but not this," he muttered, though his tone was light, his words carried a weight that hit you. With a sigh, he closed the distance between you, his arms wrapping around you tightly as he pulled you into a fierce embrace, his forgiveness as swift as his love.

- Later, as you both sat by the lake, Pietro’s usual humor resurfaced, his teasing remarks helping to ease the lingering tension. He laughed, his voice carrying a warmth that filled you with relief, and as he leaned in close, you felt the familiar spark between you reigniting. In his laughter, in his touch, you found reassurance, a silent promise that your bond was unbreakable, no matter the obstacles in its path.

Emma Frost aka. The White Queen

- When you accused Emma, the words slipped out in a way that felt like betrayal even to you. She listened in silence, her icy demeanor only hardening as you laid out your suspicions, her diamond-sharp gaze piercing you with every word. Emma’s usual confidence faltered just slightly, a flash of hurt crossing her eyes before she quickly masked it, her walls rising higher than ever.

- “I don’t need to explain myself,” she said coolly, her tone firm but carrying a hint of vulnerability, one she rarely showed. Her lips pressed into a thin line as she crossed her arms, her stance defensive as she denied your accusations. Despite her calm facade, you could see the pain hidden beneath, the subtle tension in her posture revealing more than her words ever could.

- In the days that followed, Emma distanced herself, her presence colder and more guarded than ever. She buried herself in work, focusing on training and the business empire she controlled, leaving little room for anything else. Whenever you passed her in the mansion, her gaze was distant, her walls impenetrable as she maintained an air of icy indifference, though you could sense the pain simmering just below the surface.

- When the mind control finally lifted, the truth hit you with a harsh clarity, the betrayal you’d seen nothing but a lie woven by a villain’s cruel manipulation. Guilt settled heavy in your heart as you remembered the hurt you’d caused, each cold look you’d thrown at Emma replaying in your mind. Determined to make amends, you sought her out, needing her forgiveness and knowing it wouldn’t be easy.

- You found Emma in her office, her gaze cold and unreadable as you entered. She listened silently as you explained the villain’s manipulation, her expression unreadable, though a flicker of pain softened her gaze as she absorbed your words. When you finished, the room was silent, tension thick between you as you waited for her response.

- “I’m not one to forgive easily,” she said, her voice low but with an edge of vulnerability that she rarely exposed. Despite her words, she stepped closer, her hand resting against your cheek, her touch surprisingly gentle. Emma’s gaze softened, her ice-like exterior cracking just slightly as she pulled you into a careful embrace, her touch a quiet acknowledgment of her forgiveness.

- That night, Emma let her guard down, allowing you to see the softer side she kept hidden from the world. She spoke of her past, her voice steady but carrying a weight that showed just how deeply trust mattered to her. In her rare openness, you found comfort, a renewed understanding between you that felt unbreakable. As she rested beside you, her head on your shoulder, you felt the strength of her forgiveness, a silent promise that your love was worth the risk, no matter how high her walls might be.

Laura Kinney aka. X-23 / Wolverine

- When you confronted Laura, accusing her of betraying you, she stood utterly still, her eyes wide and sharp, like a cornered predator. At first, she didn’t respond, her expression frozen in disbelief as she tried to make sense of your words. Hurt and confusion flashed across her face, mixing with the anger she tried so hard to suppress. You could see her claws twitch, her hands curling into fists, as if the accusations cut deeper than any blade could.

- “You think I’d betray you?” she finally whispered, her voice low and raw, almost a growl. There was a sharp edge to her words, but beneath the anger, you heard the unmistakable crack of vulnerability. Laura had always been guarded, keeping her heart closely protected, and this accusation seemed to tear at her carefully constructed defenses.

- As the days passed, Laura withdrew, retreating further into herself. She became quieter, her responses short and guarded, only speaking when absolutely necessary. She spent hours training, pushing herself to the limits as if punishing herself for something she didn’t even do. When you passed by her, she wouldn’t meet your gaze, her usually fierce eyes turned downward, a subtle indication of the pain she carried.

- A week later, when the mind control finally lifted, realization dawned on you like a crushing weight. The betrayal you’d believed in was nothing more than an illusion forced upon you by a villain’s manipulation. Your chest tightened with guilt as you remembered the look of hurt in Laura’s eyes, the pain you’d inflicted without even realizing it.

- Seeking her out, you found Laura alone in the training room, her face set in a mask of hardened resolve. When you explained the truth—that it had all been a cruel trick—her expression softened, but only slightly. She listened quietly, her gaze intense as you apologized, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, a wall still standing between you.

- “I don’t trust easily,” she said after a long pause, her voice steady but filled with a quiet hurt. Despite her words, she took a step closer, her hardened gaze softening as she finally met your eyes. Laura placed a hand on your shoulder, her grip firm yet surprisingly gentle, a silent acceptance of your apology. She wasn’t one to easily forgive, but you sensed that she was willing to try.

- That evening, Laura let her walls down just a bit, allowing you to sit beside her in silence. She held your hand, her fingers intertwining with yours, the warmth of her touch a silent promise to rebuild the trust between you. Her gaze softened as she looked at you, her eyes reflecting a fierce loyalty that hadn’t been broken. Though words weren’t needed, you could feel the strength of her forgiveness, a bond unspoken yet unbreakable.

Wade Wilson aka. Deadpool

- When you accused Wade of cheating, his immediate reaction was… laughter. He chuckled, thinking you were joking, until he noticed the serious, hurt look on your face. His laughter faded, and his tone shifted, a flicker of sadness and confusion crossing his face. Wade’s usual bravado faltered as he struggled to understand, an uncharacteristic vulnerability showing through his typically goofy exterior.

- “Hey, babe, I’m a lot of things, but a cheater isn’t one of them,” he said, his voice softer than usual. He tried to joke, to lighten the tension, but every attempt only seemed to make you more frustrated. Wade watched you, his usual humor giving way to a quiet sadness, his gaze holding a hint of desperation. For once, he didn’t have a clever comeback, his expression turning serious as he saw your mistrust.

- In the days that followed, Wade grew quieter, his playful nature dampened as he dealt with the weight of your accusations. He stayed out of your way, though you’d occasionally catch him watching you from a distance, his gaze more somber than usual. His attempts to make you smile were rare, his usual antics replaced by an uncharacteristic silence that made your heart ache.

- When the mind control finally wore off and you realized the truth, guilt washed over you. The accusation you’d thrown at Wade had been based on nothing more than a twisted manipulation, a trick meant to break you apart. You found him in the kitchen, attempting to make a snack, though his usual energetic humor was absent.

- As you apologized, explaining the mind control that had fueled your anger, Wade listened quietly, his gaze shifting from his food to you, his expression softening. "So… I’m not the bad guy here?” he asked with a grin, though the hurt still lingered in his eyes. He smiled, but it was gentler, and as you finished your apology, he wrapped an arm around you, his usual playful energy returning.

- “Hey, what’s a little mind control between lovers?” he joked, his voice light, though you could sense his relief. Wade’s forgiveness came easily, his laughter lifting the weight between you as he playfully ruffled your hair. He pulled you into a hug, his embrace warm and genuine, a silent assurance that he understood and wasn’t holding a grudge.

- Later that night, Wade surprised you with a ridiculous, over-the-top apology of his own, complete with flowers, confetti, and a poorly written song about love and mind control. As he serenaded you with his off-key voice, you couldn’t help but laugh, the weight of the past week finally lifting. In Wade’s laughter and his antics, you found forgiveness, a reminder that your love could withstand even the strangest obstacles.

Nathan Summers aka. Cable

- When you accused Nathan of cheating, his immediate response was silence. He stared at you, his usually intense gaze softening with a flicker of disbelief and hurt. Cable wasn’t one for outbursts, but your words had hit him hard, his jaw clenching as he took in the weight of your accusation. His voice was low when he finally spoke, each word measured, tinged with sorrow.

- “I thought we trusted each other,” he murmured, his eyes narrowing as he tried to understand why you would doubt him. His posture stiffened, his face set in a mask of controlled anger and pain, though beneath it, you sensed a deep sadness. Nathan valued loyalty above all else, and the idea that you thought he’d betrayed you seemed to shake him to his core.

- The following days were tense, with Nathan throwing himself into his work, his focus sharp but cold. He avoided you, his usual steady presence feeling distant and unapproachable. You’d catch glimpses of him, his expression hardened, his gaze no longer seeking yours as he buried himself in planning and strategies, distancing himself from the pain he felt.

- When the villain’s influence finally lifted and you realized the truth, remorse hit you hard. The accusations you’d thrown at Nathan had been nothing but illusions, a twisted ploy meant to break his trust in you. You found him in his study, his face shadowed with fatigue, his gaze distant as he stared at maps on his desk.

- You explained everything, your apology heartfelt as you recounted the mind control that had driven you to accuse him. Nathan listened quietly, his expression unreadable, though a flicker of understanding softened his gaze. “Mind control,” he repeated, a hint of relief mingling with the remaining hurt. He sighed, reaching out to rest a hand on your shoulder, his touch firm and forgiving.

- “Next time, just trust me,” he said, his voice gentle yet firm, a reminder that loyalty was something he valued deeply. He pulled you into a brief, reassuring embrace, his hold warm and protective, a silent promise that he understood and would forgive. Though he didn’t say much, his presence was enough, a reminder of the bond that remained strong despite the shadows cast by the past week.

- That evening, Cable surprised you by joining you for a quiet moment outside, his usual intensity softened as he sat beside you. His hand found yours, his grip strong yet gentle, and he offered you a small, rare smile. In that moment, you felt his forgiveness, his steady presence a comfort that reassured you of his loyalty. As the stars shone above, you found solace in Nathan’s strength, a quiet promise that your love could endure even the hardest trials.

Hank McCoy aka. Beast

- When you confronted Hank, accusing him of infidelity, his reaction was one of shocked bewilderment. He had been immersed in one of his lab experiments when you stormed in, and his initial thought was that you must have misinterpreted something he’d said or done. But as you continued to lay out your accusations, the color drained from his face, replaced by an uncharacteristic sorrow. You could see his mind racing, trying to understand where things had gone so terribly wrong.

- “Why would you ever think that of me?” he finally asked, his voice barely above a whisper. There was a pleading look in his eyes as he searched your face, desperation mixed with confusion. Hank was a deeply loyal partner, and the notion of betrayal was so foreign to him that he struggled to process the accusation. His broad shoulders slumped, and for the first time, you saw him without his usual buoyant intellect to lean on, looking lost and vulnerable.

- In the days that followed, Hank’s demeanor became subdued, the usual spark in his conversations dampened. He threw himself into his work, but his usual enthusiasm was absent, as though a weight hung over him that even science couldn’t lift. He avoided spending time with you, afraid that his presence might cause you further distress, but his absence left a void that reminded you of your argument at every turn.

- When the mind control wore off, clarity crashed over you with an almost unbearable guilt. The accusations you’d thrown at Hank had all been lies, seeds planted by a malicious mind to break your relationship apart. You found him in his lab, once again immersed in his work, but this time his gaze was distant, the traces of hurt visible in his softened features.

- As you apologized, explaining how the villain’s manipulation had clouded your mind, Hank listened patiently, his expression softening but still filled with lingering sadness. He was a man of reason, yet your words had cut deeply into the emotional side he rarely showed to others. “I know you wouldn’t have done this if it were truly you,” he said, his voice gentle and warm. But there was a slight tremble to his words, revealing the pain he’d been holding back.

- After a moment’s silence, he placed a hand on your shoulder, his touch as soft as his gaze. “Let us rebuild from here,” he murmured, offering you a small, understanding smile. The reassurance in his eyes was enough to show that, despite the hurt, he was ready to forgive. With Hank, there was always an endless well of empathy, and his patience offered you the chance to find your way back to each other.

- That evening, Hank invited you to the lab, handing you a pair of safety goggles and playfully guiding you through one of his experiments. As you worked side-by-side, he shared soft laughter and small, tender touches, his kindness reminding you of the depth of his love. Hank’s forgiveness wasn’t spoken aloud but shown in his quiet acceptance, his compassion allowing the wound to heal as you rekindled the warmth between you.

Piotr Rasputin aka. Colossus

- When you confronted Piotr, accusing him of cheating, his usually gentle expression turned to one of heartbreak, even through the steel-hard exterior. He looked down at you with hurt eyes, the reflective metal only amplifying the pained expression you could see in his features. Piotr wasn’t used to being accused of something so hurtful, and his hands balled into fists as he tried to understand why you believed he would betray you.

- “I would never do that to you,” he said, his deep voice echoing with restrained emotion. It was rare to see Piotr so visibly shaken. Yet his vulnerability shone through, despite the seemingly unbreakable exterior. You could see the toll your accusations were taking on him, as though he’d been shattered beneath the impenetrable surface.

- Over the next few days, he withdrew, seeking solace in solitude and throwing himself into physical training that kept him at the far corners of the mansion. Each clang of his fists against metal training equipment echoed the heartbreak and confusion he felt, while he kept his distance, unwilling to confront you in his hurt.

- When the mind control lifted, and you finally realized that your accusations had been planted by a villain seeking to tear you apart, guilt filled every inch of your heart. You found Piotr training alone in the danger room. You stepped in hesitantly, the remorse clear in your voice as you explained the mind control and your apologies spilling out.

- Hearing your explanation, Piotr’s metallic expression softened. He looked at you for a long moment, as if weighing the pain he’d felt against the forgiveness he wanted to offer. “I know you wouldn’t say those things if you truly felt them,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “But it still hurt.”

- Taking your hand, he brought it to his chest, placing it over his heart. “I love you,” he whispered, the words filled with an earnestness that told you just how deeply he had been affected. The wall of steel was gone, and in its place, his gentle, warm touch reassured you that despite the damage done, he was willing to forgive and rebuild together.

- That night, Piotr pulled you close in his arms, offering the comfort of his warmth and strength as he wrapped you in a protective embrace. You stayed like that, his hands resting softly on your back as he traced small patterns with his fingertips, grounding you in the reassurance of his forgiveness. It was a quiet, powerful moment, a reminder of his loyalty and a fresh start born from his boundless patience and compassion.

Illyana Rasputin aka. Magik

- When you accused Illyana of betrayal, her initial reaction was one of icy indifference. She raised an eyebrow, folding her arms over her chest as she listened, her expression unreadable. But as your words grew harsher, you saw a flicker of something hurt cross her face, quickly masked by her usual confident, defiant demeanor. Illyana wasn’t one to easily show her emotions, and the accusation seemed to put her in a place of unfamiliar vulnerability.

- “You really think I’d do that?” she asked, her voice low and dangerous, with a hint of anger simmering beneath the surface. Illyana’s gaze was intense, her eyes narrowing as though trying to peer into your mind, searching for the reason behind your sudden mistrust. The betrayal she felt was evident in her stance, and though she didn’t outwardly break, there was a clear hurt in her gaze.

- Over the next week, Illyana distanced herself, retreating to Limbo to avoid dealing with the pain your accusations had caused. She was rarely seen around, and when you did catch sight of her, she was surrounded by a dark, unapproachable aura, her eyes colder than usual. She threw herself into training and work, hiding the hurt behind a wall of indifference that only made you feel more isolated.

- When the mind control lifted, realization struck you with a painful clarity. The accusations you’d made against Illyana had been nothing but fabrications planted by a villain to tear you apart. You sought her out in Limbo, where you found her training alone, her expression hardened and distant, as though she’d been trying to forget the pain you’d caused.

- As you approached, offering your apology and explaining the mind control that had twisted your perception, Illyana’s gaze softened, though she maintained her guarded stance. She listened in silence, her expression unreadable, but the slight tension in her shoulders seemed to ease. “Next time, don’t be so easily fooled,” she muttered, though there was a hint of warmth beneath her sarcasm, a reluctant forgiveness peeking through.

- She extended a hand, pulling you close with a surprising gentleness, her usual cold exterior softening just for you. “I don’t trust easily,” she said, her voice low and serious, “but I’ll make an exception for you.” There was a fierceness in her words, a promise of loyalty and forgiveness that only Illyana could offer in her unique, unwavering way.

- That night, she took you to a secluded corner of Limbo, where the stars shone brilliantly overhead, creating an otherworldly atmosphere. Sitting beside you, she leaned against you, her hand reaching for yours, her touch firm and protective. In her own quiet way, Illyana had forgiven you, and as you watched the stars together, you felt the strength of her loyalty, a bond that even the harshest trials couldn’t break.

Warren Worthington III aka. Angel

- When you accused Warren of infidelity, his wings instinctively flared, and his usually calm, composed demeanor broke into a stunned silence. Warren was used to shielding himself from judgment due to his appearance, but having that distrust come from you was something he never expected. His wings curled protectively around himself, as if they could somehow shield him from the pain in your words.

- “Why would you think that?” he asked softly, his voice edged with both shock and hurt. Warren’s usual confidence faltered as he struggled to process your accusation, and his piercing blue eyes searched yours as though he could find an explanation that would make the hurt less unbearable. For a man who was used to the spotlight, he now looked like he’d rather disappear, the betrayal visible in his eyes.

- The days that followed were filled with a painful silence between you both. Warren withdrew, often flying alone in the evenings, taking solace in the solitude of the skies. He avoided eye contact, the trust between you seemingly damaged beyond repair, and he’d barely return to the mansion, opting to spend nights outside, where he could process his emotions in the quiet embrace of the stars.

- When the mind control finally lifted, and you realized that your accusations had been orchestrated by a villain to sabotage your relationship, guilt consumed you. You found Warren alone on a rooftop, his wings spread wide as he looked out over the city, his posture one of pained introspection. You stepped up to him, your apology coming out in a rush as you explained what had happened and begged for his forgiveness.

- Warren turned to you slowly, his eyes softened but still tinged with the hurt he’d carried over the past week. He listened to your explanation in silence, and when you finished, he looked at you for a long moment, his wings folding close to his back. “You have no idea how much that hurt,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, a trace of vulnerability in his usually composed tone.

- After a pause, he opened his wings, wrapping them gently around you in a quiet acceptance of your apology. Warren was slow to forgive, but his touch conveyed an understanding and a desire to move past the pain. “I trust you,” he whispered, his voice filled with a cautious hope. “Let’s rebuild that trust, together.” With his wings embracing you, you felt the reassurance of his love, and that was enough.

- That night, Warren invited you to fly with him, lifting you into the night sky where you soared above the city together. The thrill of flight, coupled with the feeling of his hand holding yours, was exhilarating, his forgiveness wrapped in the beauty of the skies. It was a silent promise of a fresh start, a renewal of trust forged in the quiet, expansive night, with only the stars as your witnesses.

Alex Summers aka. Havok

- When you confronted Alex, accusing him of betrayal, his reaction was a mixture of anger and shock. His jaw clenched, and he ran a hand through his hair, clearly struggling to keep his emotions in check. Alex wasn’t one to take accusations lightly, especially from someone he loved. His gaze was fiery, the same intensity that fueled his powers flashing in his eyes as he stared at you, wounded and deeply hurt.

- “How could you even think that?” he asked, his voice rough with emotion. You could see the frustration building up in him, and he let out a bitter laugh, disbelief evident in his expression. Alex had always been a fiercely loyal partner, and to have that loyalty questioned by you hit harder than any physical blow. He turned away, unwilling to let you see the pain that was etched into his features.

- In the days that followed, Alex became distant, throwing himself into missions and training with a renewed, almost reckless intensity. It was his way of coping, of channeling his hurt into action. He avoided you at every turn, his once warm and playful demeanor replaced by an icy wall, his body language closed off and guarded. Seeing him like this only made your guilt grow, the silence between you like a painful reminder of the trust that had been shattered.

- When the mind control finally wore off and you realized that your accusations had been nothing but lies planted by a villain to create division between you, you knew you had to make things right. You found him in the training room, his expression hardened and focused, as though he was trying to push through the hurt with sheer determination. Your apology poured out as you explained the manipulation, your voice breaking as you begged for his forgiveness.

- Alex listened, his face expressionless at first, but as your words sank in, the anger in his eyes began to fade, replaced by a mixture of relief and lingering pain. “Do you have any idea what that did to me?” he asked, his voice laced with frustration but softer than before. There was a vulnerability there, a part of him that had been deeply wounded but was willing to listen, to forgive.

- He pulled you close, his arms wrapping around you tightly, as though afraid you might slip away again. “Don’t ever let anyone make you doubt me like that,” he murmured, his tone protective yet filled with an intense sincerity. Alex’s embrace was warm and grounding, a silent reassurance that he was willing to put the pain behind him if it meant having you by his side.

- That evening, he took you out on a long drive, just the two of you with no destination in mind, the open road stretching out ahead. He held your hand as he drove, the quiet moments between you filled with an unspoken forgiveness. The freedom of the road, coupled with his presence beside you, was a powerful reminder that your relationship was strong enough to survive even the darkest moments, and together, you found comfort in each other once more.

[katelynnwrites]

Hold On To The Memories (They Will Hold On To You) | Laura Freigang

warnings: fluffy pancakes kind of fluff

word count: 1114

summary: five memories with laura, you'll hold on to them, they'll hold on to you and you will hold on to her

a/n: happy new year's 🎉

Your first memory of Laura is of her catching you as you quite literally fall for her.

The both of you are only thirteen and it is your very first summer football camp.

You had tripped over your laces and luckily for you, the blonde is there.

‘I’m s-sorry.’ You stammer with bright red cheeks but the taller girl only laughs as she sets you on your feet properly.

‘It’s okay. I’m Laura and it’s nice to meet you.’

Her hair is up in braids and her blue eyes are sparkling. The socks she is wearing are mismatched, they are different colours and one is longer than the other.

Right, there and then, you think she is the prettiest girl you have ever seen.

Laura sticks her hand out and you shake it with a shy smile.

‘Nice to meet you.’

******

You don’t see her at any other summer camp for years.

It’s not till she walks into Penn State’s locker room that you meet her for the second time.

You recognise her immediately. Her hair is darker but those eyes are the same.

Bright and full of excitement.

You had heard that the newest member of your team is named Laura and that she’s from Germany like you but it never crossed your mind that it would be your Laura.

Your Laura that you had spent every day at that one summer camp with, having water fights with your bottles and pranking the other children.

She spots you and her smile appears. The same brilliant smile that she had back then and the butterflies in your stomach get all fluttery again.

The striker walks up to you, holding out her hand for you to shake again.

You do so with a grin and she giggles, ‘You’re not falling for me this time?’

‘No.’ You blush as you shake her hand.

Little does she know that you’ve already fallen for her.

******

After Laura leaves Penn State to sign for Frankfurt, she takes your heart with her.

You’d grown close in the two years spent as teammates and life is not the same without her.

The two of you call all the time and while you continue completing your degree in the States, Laura realises that the way she feels about you is not entirely platonic.

She doesn’t tell you though but the phone calls get longer and longer, more and more frequent till you graduate.

Then you end up signing for Frankfurt and the striker picks you up at the airport.

One glance at you and the words are tumbling out of her mouth.

‘I missed you. I love you.’

She gasps and covers her mouth, not trusting herself to speak any further.

You smile softly and simply say, ‘I missed you too. I love you too.’

******

The first New Year’s day that you spend with Laura is special.

Both of you had shared a long and meaningful kiss in the middle of your apartment, your club teammates cheering all around.

Your favourite person’s hands rested gently on your waist and she had ignored them all, her attention on you and you alone.

‘I love you. Thank you for being mine.’

That is how it is with the blonde. She’s straightforward and clear about the depth of her feelings for you.

Your girlfriend is not afraid of expressing them and effortlessly shows you every chance she gets.

Laura Freigang is everything to you and when you look up at her with nothing but affection and adoration, she knows.

The entire team is in your shared apartment for the New Year’s party but you and her might as well be in your own world.

When all your guests have left and it’s truly just you and the striker, she pulls you close and holds you for a moment.

You let her, content to rest your head against her chest and listen to her steady heartbeat.

‘My New Year’s resolution is to love you. To never stop loving you.’ She softly says.

‘I think we share similar resolutions schatz.’

She giggles and brings her lips down to yours.

‘I love loving you.’ You tell her as the two of you look around the apartment you share.

There’s glitter on the floor after the party. You don't know where it's come from but it makes Laura sigh.

‘I’ll get the vacuum out.’ You offer.

‘Let's start on the empty bottles first?’ She counter suggests.

You agree. You’ll agree to anything as long as it's with the German woman.

As you clean up the bottles with her on New Year's day, you know for certain that you will do your best to hold onto this memory and her.

She's your person.

******

This most recent New Year’s day that you share with Laura is by far your favourite. It’s the most special to you.

You have had a fair number with her already and over the past few years, you have grown more and more in love with her.

When Laura pulls you out onto the balcony of your shared apartment, away from the party that you two have somehow ended up hosting again, she gets down on one knee.

‘Marry me? Please don’t ever become a stranger whose laugh I can recognise anywhere. I can’t live with that. I want your midnights. I will stay with you when you’re lost, when I’m scared, when it’s hard and even when it’s wrong and we’re making mistakes. I love you and I promise you I will never stop.’

You have always thought her eyes are beautiful.

But now as they are looking up at you, with all the hope in the world as she trusts you not to break her heart? They’re radiant.

There isn’t a way for you to put into words how you are feeling but you try your very hardest for the blonde.

‘Yes. Of course I will Laura. I fell for you the very first time we met, at thirteen and you caught me then. You have caught me every day since and even when I think I can’t possibly love you more, you show me that I can.’

Your soon to be wife is choking back her tears as she slides the ring onto your finger.

You can’t help but laugh. You don’t even know why you’re laughing but your shoulders are shaking as the striker leans in to kiss you.

‘Silly you schatz. You and I could never be strangers. It’s you and me, forevermore.’ You promise against her lips.

‘Forevermore. Happy New Year baby.' Laura breathes, kissing you again with every ounce of emotion she possesses as fireworks go off in the background.

German Translation:

schatz - sweetheart