#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.

[carnivorous-horses-lover]

I need to put them in one room and see what happens.

[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.

[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.

[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.

[starkwlkr]

Not a request (at least, technically 🤭) but if you’d ever write something specific about Hugh and his wife sharing the screen in Deadpool and Wolverine, and their kid’s reactions, I’m absolutely down for that

i love you in every universe | hugh jackman

an: sorry for the long wait!! texas is freezing and i’ve been getting a bit sick :( but i hope you’re all doing well <3

New York

The Jackman kids were busy with their own lives, but when Olivia suggested a movie day, they all cleared their schedules for the rest of the day. Since you and the kids didn’t attend the world premiere of Deadpool and Wolverine and had yet to see it, your family decided it was a good idea to watch it together in the cinema.

As Olivia grabbed her popcorn tin that was handed to her, Reese and Alex tried their best at the claw machines in the small arcade. You were still deciding what type of candy to get while Hugh patiently waited.

“Look, peanut M&M’s, you love those.” Hugh pointed at the box of candy on display.

“Better grab two, Olivia always ends up stealing them from me.” You chuckle as Hugh does as he was told.

“I’m sad, they don’t have the wolverine popcorn bucket. I was hoping to use it for my Halloween candy this year,” Olivia joined the rest of her family, Reese and Alex had been unsuccessful in winning a prize. “It’s your head, can’t you call Kevin Feige and tell him to send me one?” Olivia poked Hugh’s arm.

“Sure.” Hugh playfully rolled his eyes and walked up to the counter to pay for his family’s snacks.

As he walked away, the kids began to whisper to you, asking if you were in the movie. And like always, they got nothing out of you.

“I’m not in this! I was literally at home with you guys!” You tried to tell them, but they weren’t convinced.

Once Hugh returned, your family made their way to the designated house and sat in their assigned seats. You always loved watching the previews so you made your family leave a couple minutes earlier than intended. After each preview, Olivia would say “I’m watching that” or “eh”.

There were a couple more people around you so when the lights dimmed, Alex made sure Olivia stopped talking.

For some reason, you were nervous and excited. This was the first time your family actually sat down together in the cinema and watched something you and Hugh worked on. The moment was too perfect, it was definitely a memory you never wanted to lose.

Olivia danced and bopped her head to the opening scene while Alex and Reese lightly laughed. You remember Hugh texting you something about a dance scene involving Deadpool.

As the film went on, you were excited to the reactions of your kids when your character showed up. It would be after Wade and Logan arrive to the cave and meet Elektra, Gambit, Laura and Blade. Your characters were from different teams, but that didn’t stop Deadpool/Ryan from making jokes about your real life marriage.

“Who brought us here?” Deadpool asked.

“That would be me.” A female voice said.

You and Hugh turned your heads to watch your kids’ reactions as Laura entered. Olivia was so happy to see Dafne back that she almost screamed of joy. The Spanish girl was like a sister to Olivia. Alex gasped as Laura revealed herself while Reese had the biggest smile on his face.

“Oh shit. Logan that’s her, that’s X-23,” Deadpool informed Wolverine. “She’s the one I told you about.”

Both Laura and Logan kept their gaze on each other. Olivia wiped a fake tear, whispering to her father that it was beautiful to see Laura back.

“Wait, is there by any chance a Mrs. Hugh Jackman back there?” Wade pointed to where Laura had just come out of.

“You have such a big mouth and irritating voice, red.”

The screen cut from Wade to your character, leaning against the doorway of the cave.

“Holy f—” Reese choked on his soda, popcorn tumbling from Alex’s lap.

“Mom?” Olivia whispered in disbelief.

“Oh my fucking mother of god,” Wade gasped at the sight of you. He slowly walked up to you and touched your face thinking you were a ghost or something from his imagination. You swatted his hand away immediately. “You’re real. Logan, it’s your wife!”

“I’m sorry? Who the fuck is Logan?” You asked.

“That grumpy old man back there, but this is huge for the social media edits! I can already picture them. Anyways, I’m assuming your three little ankle biters are running around somewhere,” Wade said in an Australian accent, looking around for your ‘children’. “Tell the mean one she owes me ten bucks.” He then turned to the camera and pointed at it. “You know what you did, you piece of-”

Olivia couldn’t help but burst out laughing. It had been years since she and Ryan made a bet and she had lost.

“Okay! Are you done?” You interrupted.

“No, but thanks for asking sweetie pie,” Wade patted your head. “This is an even bigger moment than the US government asking Steven Spielberg to direct the moon landing!”

Logan groaned. “Can you not do this right now?”

“No, I will absolutely do this right now,” Wade quipped. He turned back to you. “I mean, seriously, you and Logan? You’ve been dancing around each other for how many movies now? And Kevin Feige still hasn’t made it canon? Unbelievable!”

“He understands me!” Olivia whisper yelled. The small comment made the Jackman family laugh.

You sighed. “Please shut up.”

“You are being a negative Nancy! I’m giving the internet what they want!” He attempted to wink but couldn’t because he had his mask on. “I mean look at the tension, people! The chemistry! Forget will they, won’t they—they definitely already did. Three times!”

The kids laughed throughout the scene while you and your husband watched with smiles plastered on your faces. You couldn’t even remember why you were nervous in the first place. No matter what you did in your film career, the kids would love it.

[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.

[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

[cry-ptidd]

Who does Laura dislike?

Anyone that isn't Integra, Walter, Seras or Alucard (<- opinion varies depending on the day).

Though, the people she dislikes the most are Maxwell, Anderson, and the Valentine brothers (+ Zorin) for fucking up her mansion.

Here's a helpful chart made by the goat @kats-magic-bag on the tumble, sketch by the other goat Vanerchest

[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.

[icarusredwings]

Papi....Stay.

Old Man Logan x 'Papa' reader.

Post Logan movie fic.

Ft. Little Laura, Dad Logan, messy flashbacks, and woods Logan.

For @stucky-just-stucky

Cw: Blood, guns, nightmares, violence, cursing, mutant discrimination, bad spanish, forgive me. 

The Night is young. The moon isn't out. The depth in which the stars cover is barren, leaving the sky bare of any light at all. 

The porch light to your cabin is on. Just a small humble home. Secluded. 

Ever since the mutant hunts, you didn't trust going into town much. Besides, Things were quieter out here. You liked the silence And preferred the natural white noise over any automatics that might try to sway your persuasions. 

The crickets chirp, Owls hoot, mice squeak, the deer make small crunching noises somewhere distant from your land. You actually bought this place because of the dense forest around it. It was nice. To have somewhere so enclosed and hidden. 

The snow drops into a pan left out for the stray dog that's been spotted in the area. At least... that's what you thought. A harsh breeze blowing in your hair. 

A fox screams in the distance. The birds do not sing. No one sings anymore. It is silent. A deafening silence that made you swallow as you peak into your back yard with a grunt. 

Was the bear back? The bastard had taken plenty of your rabbits and honestly you were getting quite fed up with it. You would starve if the greedy asshole kept stealing your catch. 

You grunt, grabbing your gun, loading it. Kicking the back door open, There, the beast was standing, trying to undo the snare once again. Turning, it's eyes were different though, bright and reflective like a moutian lions. 

Gasping, You tumble back, falling onto your ass. 

The gun shot echos through the snow covered mountains. There's a growl. The animal that lurches forward snarls, a sound of knives unsheathing as you curl up, pushing the barrel against the bears strengh. 

He tries to take your gun, and out of panic you're able to cock it again, blowing his fucking brains out. 

Panting, you scramble backwards, wondering what in gods name has gotten into the animals around here when suddenly, you realize.. that's not a bear. 

You scream, it's blood curling and the sob that follows is similar. "Oh- FUCK!" You curse, dropping back to your knees as you pull the fur off his back, trying to use it to stop the bleeding.

"Oh, fuck fuck fuck fuck!!" You yell, crying to yourself. "Shit!! Oh yeah, great! You just had to go and SHOOT a guy didn't you!? God youre such a fucking IDIOT!" You scold yourself. 

But then there's a groan. A heavy grumble of pain, a small double 'tnk... tnk' as you watch the shells fall out of his forehead, bloody and bent. 

"What in the-?" 

But that was a little over 10 years ago. When you dragged that heavy, bleeding man into your cabin. Wrapped up his head and laid him by the fire. Heated him up some soup and reloaded the gun again, terrified of what he was capable of. Terrified of what he might do to you. You've heard the goverment was getting serious about mutants, cracking down, tagging them like animals. 

A loud groan comes from him not even half an hour later, rubbing his head as he sits up, looking at the fire like it's the first time he's been warm in weeks. 

Staring at him with the gun pointed, You try to remain calm. But you reak of nervousness and anxiety. Anger and panic. 

"W-why didn't you die?" You had asked him, jumping forward slightly in attempts to scare him but he only scoffed. "You aren't gonna shoot me.." 

Your teeth grit, furrowing your brow. "Are you sure about that!? I already did once! Bl-blew your brains all over the snow! I'll do it again!" 

"Yeah.. about that.. that hurts. So stop it. You're just wasting your ammo." He grunts, shifting to pull the soup you left near him close, sniffing it, his nose crinkling. 

Swallowing, you can't help but feel intrigued. What was a guy like him doing out by himself? 

"Hey! You never awnsered my question! Why aint you dead!?" 

The man shrugged, sipping the hot broth. "Cursed at birth I guess." 

"Bullshit. Y-you're a mutant hunter! Aren't you? You got some weird tech in ya or something!" You say. Okay, looking back- maybe it was stupid to say seeing as you just saw this man pull knives from his hands. 

But that's when he laughed. A full gut busting laugh. It's genuine. 

It pisses you off. "Don't laugh at me! I saved you!" 

"You SHOT me!" He reiterates. 

"Yeah!... well.. maybe you shouldn't have been tryna steal my rabbits!!" You shout. 

You step backwards as he finishes the soup, standing. He looks around for a moment, then to you. You jerk towards him again but he dosn't flinch. "Wheres the sink?" 

"What?" 

"The sink. I'll just.. wash this off and get out of your hair. And I won't take your rabbits anymore. I Thought...I don't know what I thought actually. People come through these woods, set traps, and never check'em so I thought I could.." He trails off. 

You pause for a second, blinking, thinking about how quickly he scarfed down the entire bowl. 

You can't believe you're about to say this. But he didn't seem like a man that was too lazy to hunt, rather one that.. couldn't.. anymore. From the way he used his claws, you can tell that one day, he was a great hunter. But now his bones cracked and ached too much for that.

You look to the door, hearing the freezing wind howl as he stands here, hoping you wont notice the way hes warming his backside on the fire, gripping the warm bowl with bloodied hands. 

"...Would you like more?" 

The question makes him stare, weighing the opitions in his head. "....You gonna keep pointin' that thing at me if I say yes?" 

And that's how you met your husband. Funny story when you think about it. 

But now here he was. Gone for weeks and all he has to show for it is a kid. 

"Where have you been!? You said you were working! I called the limo company and they said you done went rouge!" You yell at the man who stood in your doorway, almost guilty looking. The same man who stood there, in a different cabin up north 10 years ago. 

Now you were down here in Mexico. Something about his father and how it would be better money for the two of you. He had specifically said it like that. He held you in his arms while you cried at the idea of leaving your home, "It'll be better for us." He promsied. 

"I think you mean better for You." You shove him away, crossing your arms as you watched Logan pile in your entire livelyhood into a small shitty truck. Everything else was left. Everything else was gone. 

Now you were warm all the time. Now it was hot. Too hot. Sticky. And it was difficult for you to breathe. You still weren't even sure why you had to come here other then the mutant hunters getting too frequent up north though now it was just as bad, if not worse down here. 

Sometimes you would remember the cold nights you would spend with him. How he'd pull the fur blankets up over you and hold you close, his hot breath and body being the only thing you need to keep warm. The nightmares didn't really bother you. No the grunting and the harsh twitching never upset you. You'd only rub his chest and shush him back to sleep. 

Stitching the bedsheets each morning howeber did get tedious. Not to mention him holding you by the throat.  Now that was a bit more of a problem. 

The first time it happened, his nightmares that is, you hadn't let him in your bed quite yet, no, that wasn't for a week. 7 days was all you could take before finally letting the puppy eyed old man into your bed. 

At first it started with him on the couch, shifting, rolling over, hiding, curling into the smallest of balls before exploding into a loud scream of anguish. He'd heave and pant, shake and cry. Though you didn't let him know you saw back then. You'd simply call. "Logan? You alright?" 

After a few minutes of hearing him yell. 

"Y-yeah! Just... it's nothin." He'd call back, and become silent, trying his damndest not to start destroying your home. With his hands together, and laws out, he'd sit right there on your couch, praying to his own body and mind to retract his claws and go back to sleep. 

By the 5th night, you got tired of hearing him get up and pace for 3 hours after his night terrors. It would drive you both mad soon enough. Lack of sleep did that to a man, so. You moved him to your bed. You already successfully got him out of the shed. How hard could it be? 

"Just for the night." You told him, sticking a pillow between the two of you. What? You couldn't let your house guest freeze to death. That's not very  good host etiquette, you thought, but before that he refused to even sleep in the house, staying out in the shed like a dog who prefered the snow. 

"No.. I can't. I have night terrors." He says, spitting these words as if saying skin burning acid seeped from his pores at night. As if sleeping next to him would immediately bring an end to your life. 

"Oh, please. Who cares if you see the boogieman in your dreams? Haven't we all?" You wave a hand dismissively. 

"You don't understand." He starts, as serious as a bad case of syphilis. "I can't control myself." 

"Excuse me!?" You had said, obviously thinking something much more wrong, only for his face to darken. "Not like that! Fuck.. I meant I..." He pops his claws to their full length, grunting as they bled. "I can't control them in my sleep." He says, 

Sounding like he'd cry just from the idea of slicing you open. 

"....that's why I sleep on the couch.." 

"Well... I truly hate these sheets anyway." The sweet smile you gave him then was all it took for him to grin, hesitantly climbing into your bed, back agaisnt you as you turn off the lamp. 

"Night, Logan." 

But there was only a loud snore in return, out before his head even hit the pillow. You wonder how long since he's slept in an actual bed... weeks? Months? 

Years? 

Ever since, He's been in your bed. Next to you where ever you slept, even if that meant on the couch. It was like he couldn't sleep now without your scent. It was cute really. He'd follow you around the cabin, come hunting with you, help you with chores. 

"I'm heading out soon. Don't worry about me." He'd say, washing his dishes like a domesticated house husband, drying off the bowl and putting it away like he's done it a thousand times. 

"Uh-huh." You'd say, sarcastically smirking with doubt because he said the same thing 2 weeks ago. 

"When you go into town, drop me off." He had said. And so you did. He got out of the beaten up truck, making a big deal out of the goodbye, lingering with nothing but the clothes on his back, a meal you forced him to take and an extra sweater that looked far better on him then you. 

"Erm... Bye." He had ended, slamming the door and stomped away. You could have sworn he was pouting, pissed at himself for actually going through with it. 

When you arrived home later that night, there he was. Standing in your doorway with this shamfully embaressed and guilty look.

"..I.. I forgot something." 

Scoffing, you smile. "Oh yeah? And what's that?" 

And that's when he kissed you. Stepping forward and grabbed your shoulders, kissing you like he needed you to breathe. "You." 

You wish you could say you hoped he did the same now, but you might punch him in the face if he did the same. 

"Haven't you a single thing to say for yourself!? Hm?? You left me! You promised you would never leave me without telling me! You promised you weren't like that!"

Logan only stands there, head lowered slightly and looking at you the exact same way. Fuck he hasn't changed at all. It's a rip in time the way he faces you. 

Guilt. Shame. Embaressed. 

"I didn't... I didn't mean to.. and I would never leave my family. That's.. that's not who I am anymore." 

"Oh yeah? You won't leave your family, huh?" You say, stepping closer, not afraid to get in his face as you point to the girl, gritting your teeth. 

"You left the mother of your child-"  

"Don't bring the girl into this." It's instant. A stern shout through his fangs tightened together, breathy and dark until he coughs, looking away as he coughs into his wrist. 

He was sick. You knew that. But you alredy vowed to spend the rest of your life with him. You already promised that you'd burry him in the yard at the old cabin and drink a whiskey for him each anniversary. Though right now you are far too angry to care. 

 

"Or what? You'll run off and not return to me for god only knows how many days? Go on! Go! Leave me. It's all you've ever been good for anyway!" 

"It's not like that -" 

"It's never like that, Logan! Or should I call you the Wolverine?" It's a venom you haven't spit in years. The way you say the old name is like a slur. 

Things are quiet. His brow softens. Like a dog who accidently got tok rough during play and its owner just kicked it away, called him a bad dog. 

"I can't believe this. 10 years. Ten FUCKING years since you gave up that life! For me! And now here you are!" Your voice strains, tightening. "For- for what? For me to find out that.. you broke your vows to me...?" 

He steps towards you, grabbing your waist and puts a hand behind your neck, kissing you. It's hard not to melt into those strong arms. You've missed their hold. Missed the scratchiness of his beard. Missed the soft growl in his voice. He was your husband after all. 

"She's a clone." He says, breaking away from the kiss of desperation, desperate for you to litsen. You always were a stubborn one.. maybe it's why you stayed so long. 

You shake your head. He's lying. He has to be. You look at the girl again who is awkwardly standing against the door frame, glaring at you, obviously more loyal to her father then anything else on this small ranch. 

You think about hitting him. He'd heal. You could crack him straight in the nose. Say something like 'thats what you get!' But you only ball your fist, keeping it there. No.. you wouldn't. Not with the girl there anyway. It's not her fault. None of this was. 

Besides. If this little girl was staying with you now, you would have to be a good rolemodel for her. And hitting her father (as much as he deserves it for disappearing on you) would only start you two off on the wrong foot. You could tell because her eyes did that thing your husbands did when ever extremely annoyed, when ever he was about to snap and claw someones face off. 

"No. Don't lie to me." You shake your head. You've heard about the testing centers but you didnt want to believe it. That your husband disappeared and then suddenly showed back up with a kid that he didn't need to cheat in order to have. It makes you a little jealous. You have been working for years to have kits stuffed into you despite not biologically being able to have them. And here, was the most gorgeous copy and paste, genetically his. But not yours. 

"I'm not. I wouldn't... I wouldn't do that. Not to you." He reassures you, his eyes bright with innocence. 

"..She's a clone?" You clairify, giving him a final chance to change his awnser. 

He nods. "Just found her.. i didn't.. I didnt mean to- If I would have known.." 

The hesitantcy in his voice, like he'd cry from the relief of being home, of getting to kiss what was his again. It all felt like too much. But you understand perfectly. 

"...what's her name?" 

He sucks in a deep breath, turning, not taking that hand off of your waist. "This is Laura. Laura.. this is my partner.. Don't hurt'em. Okay?" He taps his knuckles. "You see? No." And shook his head, trying to make it clear that there would be no stabbing of his mate. 

She shifts her gaze from her father to you, crossing her arms. 

"No le voy a llamar papi..." 

You sniffle, wiping your tears with a giggle.

Logan makes a face, grunting with reddend cheeks. "E-en ingles, Laura." He stutters, but you only grin.

"Está bien." You crouch down, slowly so not to spook her. Still though she backs up. 

"Laura.. ¿Quieres que sea mamá?" 

Blinking, your husband gives you a look, as if questioning when you picked this up. 

"What? We live on the border. And you're gone a lot. I needed someone to talk to other then the goats." You cross your arms, giving him a soft glare specifically on that 'You're gone a lot' part. 

"No..." Laura says as you both look at her. 

You frown slightly, but understand. She must have been through so much.. god.. you only hoped her temper was half your Husbands.. 

Then maybe you'd survive through puberty.. 

 

The girl grins, glad that she had someone to talk to in her native language. 

"Eres papá."

A small smile tugs at the corner of his salt and peppered lips. "Do you want to stay here? With Papa?"

She shakes her head, coming to take his hand, squeezing it tight.

"Papi.. Stay."

[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.”

***

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[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

[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…