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@onemoretimethen
Hello! Little introduction post I suppose:
This is my Emma Frost (and more broadly, X-Men) sideblog! I also go crazy about Emmajean on here!
I go by Yasha, and use she/her pronouns! I am by no means an expert on Emma or the X-Men, and am still a relatively new comic reader!
Feel free to dm me or send me asks about anything! I'd love to get to know more X-Men obsessed people :))
ohohohohohohohooh
Bard Emma
She's so real.
[Meet Krakoa's 2026 World Cup Team]
Need a helping hand in the match? Synch's ready to play whichever role he has to in order to win.
sometimes i forget to go on tumblr for days lmao
[Meet Krakoa's 2026 World Cup Team]
Her name might be Storm, but it's always sunny when she's on the field, as long as you don't get in her way…
Can you feel her?
I can feel everything.
Me and my baby
Hello! Could you do fanart on Emma Swan fighting the Phoenix to save Jean?
“You will not take her from me.”
people are fan casting sydney sweeney as Emma Frost do not even joke !
“So… all alone.”
girls may have been easy, but you have to please me
“Nothing like you.”
Another Emmajean snippet of a fic I'm (slowly) working on:
‘How have I been?’ She asks. ‘How have I been? How have you been, Jean Grey?’ She snarls, and they’re lucky they’re the only two in the lounge, because she is not keeping her voice down.
“This is all your fault, so come here and do something about it!”
A few months ago, if you had told Jean Grey that she would have to come home after a long day spent fighting apocalyptic evils to an angry wife who loved to yell at her, she’d scoff and say she had more self-respect than to let herself fall into that situation. Now? Suffice it to say, said angry wife was the highlight of her day.
“Good evening to you too, Emma.”
Heavily pregnant, sprawled out in what could only be called a nest of blankets and throw pillows, and pouting up at Jean as she climbed into the bed with her, the White Queen could only be described as an utterly adorable sight. Not that Jean would say that out loud.
Not that she had to, of course.
“I’m not adorable,” Emma huffed, her pout only growing in response to the amused thoughts in her wife’s head. “I’m in pain, I’m suffering, and it’s your fault.”
She was as dramatic as ever.
Jean chuckled, leaning down to press a kiss against the blonde’s lips. “My deepest apologies, your majesty,” she cooed, “What can I do to help?”
“I don’t care, just do something,” Emma whined, which was Emma-speak for ‘I need you to massage every inch of my body until I tell you to stop in roughly 3 hours.’
Jean couldn’t help the grin that took over her features, “Of course, of course. C’mere, Em.”
A few months ago, if you had told Jean Grey that she would get to cuddle up with a huffy Emma Frost carrying her baby every single night, she’d never believe you. Now? It was familiar how Emma seemed to slip so perfectly into her embrace, how her back would settle against Jean’s front as the blonde wriggled into a comfortable position, how the redhead’s arms would wrap snugly around her wife and her swollen belly in order to hold them both.
Jean’s eyes flickered the faintest shades of pink as she began her nightly duties, swollen feet and heavy limbs and tight muscles gently worked to ease under her telekinesis. Emma’s quiet moan of relief at the ministrations wasn’t lost on her ears as the redhead leaned forward amidst the massage to begin peppering her wife's shoulders and neck with kisses.
It only took a few minutes for the White Queen to have gone completely boneless in her arms, a few minutes for the ever feared and revered Emma Frost to be turned into mewling putty for Jean, utterly satisfied with the affection she was receiving.
Jean let her wife enjoy herself in silence, her fingers gently soothing over the tension in the blonde’s stiff shoulders, before she eventually ventured to ask, “How has the baby been?”
It took a second to get a reply. “As restless as ever.”
“And her mother?”
“Mm… much the same.”
Despite the conversation they were carrying, Emma’s head had tilted back against Jean’s rain of adoration, enough to expose her neck for her wife as the redhead pressed kiss after kiss against the column of her throat. She was coming to though, pulled back towards a semi-coherency after floating her way through that blissful cloud of Jean’s telekinetic charm.
Upon the blinking open of her lidded eyes, she was greeted by the redhead’s gentle chiding of, “Rest is important, you know,” as her lips continued working against the blonde’s tender skin.
Even with Emma bliss still lazily radiating off of her, Jean could feel the weariness of the sigh the other woman let out. “That’s all I’ve been doing, dear,” the White Queen said softly, “It’s utterly mind-numbing.”
“You’re carrying our child, Emma.”
Another sigh. “As everyone is ever so keen to remind me.”
Wriggling around in Jean’s arms, Emma turned her head to be able to meet the other telepath’s gaze. “I’m not made of glass, Jeanie.”
“No, you’re not.”
The redhead's agreement came quickly. Naturally. This was a fact Jean had known from the very start.
Even expecting, Emma had insisted she kept working, kept busy. There was always something to do: paperwork to push, children to care for, duties to attend to. The White Queen hardly stopped, even as she began showing, even as she was forced to trade her typical heels for more comfortable flats and drop her usual black coffee for a cup of simple, herbal tea.
It had taken a considerable amount of X-Men to finally convince the woman that Krakoa wouldn’t completely fall apart without her, that she could take her leave without the nation’s economy imploding in on itself. In fact, it had been mused that the X-Men had faced many a threat in the past — apocalyptic, universal, even inter-dimensional ones — but a stubborn, pregnant White Queen was one of the scariest things the team had ever faced.
And yet, holding that very woman in her arms, Jean couldn’t help but smile, “Not glass. You, Emma, are made of the most dazzling diamond this universe has ever seen.”
Reaching around, Jean cupped Emma’s cheek with a hand, her green eyes crinkling at the corners as they locked onto her wife’s crystalline blue ones. “But, even the purest of diamonds ought to be polished and cared for to shine their brightest. You, my queen, are no exception.” Dipping her head, Jean pressed another kiss to the blonde’s lips as she continued, “Enjoy the rest while you can, Em,” she murmured, “once our baby is here, I’m sure we’ll miss these moments of peace and quiet. Best we savour them while they’re still plentiful.”
There was a brief moment of silence as the sentiment sank in, before the blonde began to slowly settle back against her wife. Turning her head, Emma leaned her face a little further into the hand still cradling her cheek, her lips brushing a delicate kiss of her own against her wife’s fingertips. She was relaxed again, fully this time, her eyes slipping shut once more as she let herself be lulled to rest by her beloved’s words and her touch.
But, before she drifted off, in a voice as quiet as a whisper, Emma breathed out the softest, “I love you, Jeanie.”
And Jean smiled in turn, “I love you too, Emma.”
"The Real Owners of the X-Men" by artist Lucas Werneck
