⋮ ⌗ wlw/ace ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 closest earth gets to a conductor of souls
【fandoms】
Marvel (mostly X-Men, Fantastic 4, Deadpool, The Defenders… etc)
DC (Justice league, Justice League international, Lantern corps, Titans, Birds of Prey, Outsiders… etc)
You can request for any fandom I’ve written for, main fandoms change based on my favorite media at the time ༄ !
My work is tagged with: #spaghetti fiction
rules:
- requests must be for ‘x reader’ only, if a ccxcc ship is included it must be formatted as ‘cc x cc x reader’ (implying a poly situation, or ‘sharing’)
EX: (x men) Gambit x Rogue x Reader; EX: (JLI) Booster Gold x Blue Beetle (ii) x Reader
- ‘x reader’ content does not have to be romantic, I have a soft spot for fatherly characters
- i will not write for nsfw requests containing noncon/implied assault within the premise of a character or reader causing such behavior
(‘character reacts to some dude being handsy w/ their crush!!!’ Is not the same though it will be handled with caution)
similarly to this I will not write ‘bully’ characters (yandere treated as horror/‘dark romance’ is acceptable)
- reader upon request can be Female, Gender Neutral, or Male. I default to a cisgender female reader for NSFW since that seems to be the majority audience
- I will not write crossovers except for between fandoms I write for, even then I may not accept the request (I just. Don’t like crossovers or AU’s I’m sorry)
- I can write in any formatting, and can do ‘text fics’/SMAU as well (using: https://postfully.app/tools/text-message-generator/)
who ever you choose of marvel and DC with a gf or gn partner who is like not clingy at all and is super cuddly all the sudden and in their lap and stuff? hope your doing ok
Cuddle-bug
ft.Marvel
-> Included (Marvel): Wolverine, Nightcrawler, Gambit, The Human Torch, Moon Knight(2022 D+ Show), Blade, Cloak & Dagger, The Invisible Woman, Kitty Pryde, Magik,
UP NEXT (DC): Kyle Rayner, Guy Gardner, Hal Jordan, John Stewart & Shayera Hol, The Flash, Kid Flash, Wonder Woman, Zatanna, Constantine, Booster Gold & Blue Beetle, Arsenal
Content Warnings: Fem!Reader, established relationship, reader's weight/body type is unspecified but the characters involved can comfortably hold them on their lap/chest
Moon Knight here is from the series not the comics
A/N: Biting my lip WHOEVER I CHOOSE?? Also I stole the new way i'm formatting names from @/jamesdeanbby (all caps, bolded, and subscripted) ヾ(_ _。）
⚝ LOGAN HOWLETT
Logan had noticed your strange behavior before you had even touched him. You had circled him throughout the day, following along with whatever he was doing (not that he was all that busy).
Every time he had stopped, there you were: in the kitchen, the garage, the porch—and eventually the prickly, itching feeling along his neck and shoulders was too much to ignore as he turned around again. And, as you had been, you were there.
Logan was no psychic. He didn't know what you wanted, but there had to be some point to your clinginess today, and not knowing was creeping him out.
“You need somethin’?” His sideways glance betrayed the gruff and indifferent tone of his voice, hazel eyes darting across your figure.
“Nope,” and at his skeptical look, you just shrugged.
“Right…” and he went back to sharpening one of his knives. You never did really get why he needed them, considering he's basically made of knives, but his precious few hobbies meant as much to you as they did to him.
A minute later, he felt the couch dip, causing Logan to draw his knife closer to his body. Another minute, and you were pressed against his side.
Logan's hand froze.
“You sick?” and you don't even get a chance to shake your head before he continues, “Someone die?”
You sit back slightly and look at him, offended.
“Can I not sit down with my boyfriend?”
He eyed you for another long second before grunting.
"...Usually you don't."
Then, without warning, you swung one leg over his lap and tucked yourself against his shoulder as Logan stared.
"Fucking hell."
“Ok fine then, no being sweet”, and at your first movement away from him, he let out a long sigh through his nose.
"...Don't be a brat."
His knife was tossed onto the coffee table as his broad arm wrapped around your waist almost absentmindedly, holding you in place while he went back to watching television.
The peace didn't last even five minutes before Logan broke the silence again.
"...Seriously though."
"Hm?"
"You got a concussion?"
“Logan if you keep ruining the moment i’ll give you a concussion”
⚝ KURT WAGNER
Kurt had been comfortably settled into one of the library armchairs, one leg tucked beneath himself while the other rested over the arm, an old novel balanced between three-fingered hands. The room was quiet save for the occasional turn of a page and the soft swish of his tail lazily flicking behind him.
He looked up the moment your footsteps entered the room.
"Ach, hallo, Liebling."
You smiled back at your fuzzy blue companion, matching the joyful gleam in his golden eyes, but didn't answer, instead wandering over until you stood beside his chair.
He marked his page with one careful finger.
"Is everything all right?"
You nodded "Mhm."
He waited.
You... continued standing there.
His tail slowed.
"...Did you need something?"
You shook your head again, almost having to stifle a laugh at his confusion, "No, nothing"
"...Oh."
Silence settled between you and Kurt smiled anyway, content enough just to have you nearby, before lowering his eyes back to his book. The smile lingered on his face as he resumed reading. Even while you weren't talking, your company had always been enough for him. There was something so pleasantly domestic about sharing a room without feeling obligated to fill it with conversation, the comfort of silence. His tail idly brushed once against the side of your shoe, the only sign he hadn't forgotten you were there.
Another minute passed before you said something
"Kurt."
"Hm?"
You tilted your head. "...Why aren't you touching me?"
Kurts book flipped several pages when he turned to look over his shoulder, mouth slightly agape in shock.
"...Was I supposed to be?"
Your brows knitted together. "I've been standing here forever."
"I did not wish to assume!" he defended, laughing as he hurried to set the book aside. "Normally, if I move toward you first, you look at me as though you are considering climbing out the nearest window."
"I do not."
His grin widened "Ach but leibling you absolutely do." And at his statement, Kurt opened his arms anyway.
"May I?"
Instead of answering, you stepped between his knees and folded yourself against his chest. His arms wrapped securely around your back, careful while his tail curled loosely around your calf of its own accord.
"You are very comfortable," he murmured into your hair.
“I think that's my line."
“I wanted to do this much earlier,” he laughed, the sound vibrating warmly beneath your cheek. "I was trying to be respectful."
"I appreciate that,” your hands tightened around the back of his shirt, “I don't know when I’ll be okay to do… this… again”
Kurt's expression softened so completely it made your chest ache. He understood what you meant without asking another question, the reason you two were so perfectly suited for eachother. Tomorrow, you might go right back to linking a finger and lingering beside him instead of leaning against him. You might tense up if he reached for your hand first. But the beauty of it all was this moment where your love was stronger than reservation, where Kurt in his drought had been given a reservoir of water.
"I believe," he said, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, "that is something I will always accommodate, süße." His tail gave another pleased flick.
⚝ REMY LEBEAU
Remy was almost offended. You hadn't done anything wrong, it was almost impossible for you to do anythin worth Remy’s scrutiny, but because you were acting far… far too normal.
No response when he'd greeted you. No quick-handed attempt to steal or destabilize the cards dancing effortlessly between his fingers. You hadn't even rolled your eyes when he'd called you cher. It was like your mind was somewhere up in the clouds.
You'd just... watched him, rather affectionately even, in Remy’s opinion, and he let it go for almost ten minutes before finally lowering the deck into one hand.
"C'mon now."
His green eyes found yours immediately.
"You been starin' holes clean through me. Remy knows you'd tell your ol' lover anythin', so what's got dat head so busy, cher?"
"I have not."
A grin spread across his face.
"Mm. Liar."
Your eyes flicked away at his accusation, that was when he knew something was off. You never lied to him, or if there was some sort of hidden truth you were quick to spill as soon as Remy even gave you a questioning look.
The deck disappeared into his pocket as he leaned forward, elbows on his knees.
"You wanna tell me what's got dat pretty head so busy?"
Instead of answering, you crossed the room. Remy had expected you to busy your hands with his cards, and use your position in his pockets to shrug his coat off his broad shoulders and onto yourself.
Instead...
You simply lowered yourself into his lap, curling up against him as naturally as anyone could, tucking your face against his neck and feeling the stubble beneath his chin.
Every line he'd ever practiced vanished.
"...Well."
His voice came out noticeably quieter.
One hand hovered awkwardly behind your back before settling there, broad palm rubbing once between your shoulder blades.
"Cher..." He smiled to himself. "You really surprised me, y'know dat?"
You looked up, your planned statement interrupted by a chaste kiss to your forehead.
“Are you uncomfortable?”
"You looked at me all afternoon like you were figurin' out how t' do dis. Non... if anythin', Ah'm wonderin' why you ain't done it sooner."
Heat climbed into your cheeks, and Remy could feel the burning against his own warm skin.
"Aww..." His forehead rested briefly against your hair. "Poor cher... you were nervous."
"You thought too hard 'bout dis, didn't you?"
You freeze,"...Maybe."
"Mm." A kiss to your temple. "Next time, don't ask your head. Listen t' your heart. Seems t' know what it's doin'."
"'M not usually like this."
"Cher, if anybody knows dat 'bout you, it's me." There wasn't disappointment in his voice, "...Makes it feel like Ah won somethin'."
⚝ JOHNNY STORM
Johnny almost missed it.
Not because he wasn't paying attention, you always had his attention, always, it’s his favorite thing to pay attention to; but because he'd spent the last ten minutes talking almost exclusively with his hands, halfway through an animated retelling of something Ben had said earlier that morning.
"...And then he has the nerve to tell me I'm the dramatic one—"
Your weight settled onto his lap, and Johnny kept talking, wrapping his forearms around your body and talking practically against your skin, breath fanning across your shoulder on each word before his sentence abruptly ended in the middle of a point.
Johnny blinked owlishly before looking down, back up, down again…
"...Hang on."
You'd tucked yourself comfortably against him, one arm lazily draped around his middle as if there were nothing unusual about the situation.
There was. Oh my god there absolutely was. His eyebrows climbed higher and higher as he kept opening his mouth, a wide smile breaking out on his face.
Johnny was obviously putting tremendous effort into not saying something to ruin the mood, but his excitement won out after… maybe ten seconds
"...What… no way,”, a reddish flush was blooming on his cheeks, as he rapidly licked his lips to stop them from drying out, courtesy of his still befuddled expression
"What?" you asked. You knew what, your touchy boyfriend was reeling from getting to cling to you without making some sort of bargain, but the cute expressions he was pulling was honestly enough to get you to consider doing this more often
"You." He (lightly) shook you with theatrical disbelief. "You're sitting on me!"
You laughed quietly.
"I can move."
"No!"
His answer came much too fast.
One hand immediately landed on your back, "You don't get to hook me on this and leave, nuh-uh."
"I'm not going anywhere, space boy”
Johnny searched your face for literally anything suggesting this was some elaborate setup. And after finding none his shoulders slowly relaxed.
"...This is awesome, amazing." He couldn't stop smiling. “Its… fire”
And at your loud groan he held you tighter, looking almost boyishly pleased about his terrible pun.
⚝ STEVEN GRANT
Steven had been completely absorbed in a museum catalogue, one knee tucked beneath himself on the couch, reading glasses slowly slipping down his nose.
He didn't even notice you'd come in until the pages stopped turning, your gentle hand pressed against the delicate paper.
"Oh!” He looked up, smiling immediately. "Hello, love."
You smiled back. "Hi Steven"
Neither of you said anything else, and at your silence you could see the corners of Steven's smile wobble, as he tilted his head.
"...Everything alright, darling?"
"Mhm, everything."
He nodded, sucking in a tentative breath "...Right."
He waited for the rest of your statement, eyes following yours as he saw them trace across his features. Did you come over here just to stare at him?
Instead, you carefully lifted the catalogue from his lap, set it on the coffee table, then climbed onto the couch beside him.
For a brief, and hopeful second, Steven assumed you simply wanted to sit together.
Then you kept going.
Your knees slid over either side of one of his legs before you folded your arms over him, resting your head on top of his curly hair with a quiet sigh that sounded almost involuntary. Steven froze, your heartbeat under his ear much calmer than the one he could feel in his own chest, thumping hard enough he figured it could probably walk away on its own if it so wished.
He was suddenly terrified of moving the wrong way.
"...May I..." His voice came out almost in a whisper, cracking halfway through as he cleared his throat "Can I… hold you?"
You answered by curling closer and pulling him down with you, your back hitting the soft cushioning of Steven’s reading couch as he was now laying on top of you.
His entire face softened, smile still ever present as he looked down at you
"Oh, I see."
One arm slipped around your waist while the other came up almost reverently to cup the side of your face, thumb brushing against the corner of your mouth.
"There you are."
You hummed sleepily as Steven smiled to himself.
"You know..."
"Hm?"
"I don't think I've ever been this happy."
You laughed quietly against his sweater.
"It's just a hug, Stevie"
"I know, I know…" His cheek rested lightly against the top of your head. "...That's exactly why, love"
⚝ ERIC BROOKS
Eric knew you were behind him, he heard your footsteps stall in the doorway several minutes ago. You weren't being particularly loud, but between his enhanced senses and the stillness of the night he was aware of everything happening within his apartment.
"You gonna stand there all day?" He hadn’t turned to you yet, but he had slowed the movement of his whetstone. Once he had finished, he glanced over his shoulder.
"...Somethin' wrong?"
You shake your head, looking over to him.
Blade hummed, and went back to wiping down one of his swords, occasionally flicking his eyes over to you. He could hear your steps shuffling closer to him,
"...Can I sit?"
He looked up again, balking at your timid demeanor. What the hell could be unsettling you enough for you to be practically shaking in your boots. (You were not in fact, trembling in fear, Eric is just unable to comprehend you being uncomfortable asking him to do anything)
"Since when do you need permission from me?"
At his shocked staring, you move forward and plant yourself practically on top of him- nudging the wrist gone still to keep his sword definitively pointed away from you and your… finagling. Eric had expected you to sit next to him, maybe your feet draped onto his lap as you leaned on the opposite end of the couch.
“Did someone bother you? Have you been having nightmares while I'm out? You don't have to worry, Vlad can’t mess with your mind. I struck a deal with the wizard.”
You stilled while climbing into his lap, your fingers still entwined with his as you looked down,
“You… struck a deal. With a wizard”
“The Sorcerer Supreme, not a wizard. I lied.” His free hand came up almost cautiously, settling against the back of your head.
You felt your cheeks hurting from how wide your smile was, his thumb brushed once through your hair.
"...Missed me?"
You nodded. "...Yeah."
Another quiet moment passed.
"I missed you too. Always miss you” You can feel as his posture slumps slightly, as he tucks your body securely against him to lean down and put away his sword.
“Sweet talker” you murmur “makes me wonder what you’re aiming for”
“ ‘s you, only you”
You laughed under your breath, and Eric’s hand tightened once at the back of your head, not enough to stop you, just enough to keep you there and feel your breath against his neck.
“Good answer.” You tipped your head up to look at him.
He didn’t bother pretending not to notice. His eyes stayed on you for a long second before he finally looked back down at your mouth, then your face, then your mouth again like he was considering whether or not to say something else.
“I want you to stay.”
It came out rough, almost grudging, like he was annoyed at himself for saying it out loud. You only smiled wider.
“I was planning on it.”
⚝ TY JOHNSON/TANDY BOWEN
Ty noticed you before Tandy did, not because he was watching you, but because the living room dimmed almost imperceptibly as you wandered in, stepping in front of a small lamp in the corner. He looked up from where he'd been reading, watching you hesitate in the doorway for several seconds.
"Love, is everything okay?"
You nodded.
"Mhm."
That wasn't exactly reassuring.
Tandy, still stretched out across the opposite end of the couch with one leg hanging over the armrest, finally looked up from her phone.
"What?" she asked, glancing between the two of you. "Why're you both making faces?"
"I'm not making a face," you muttered.
Ty raised an eyebrow. "You've been standing there for almost a minute."
“Have not!”
Tandy snorted, "Sweetheart, you're gonna have to give us something."
You crossed the room, before your nerves could get the better of you at the last second. Instead of sitting beside him like you'd intended, you found yourself half climbing into his lap, your arms wrapping around his middle before your brain had a chance to object.
Tandy gasped almost instantly, which in turn led you to immediately start second-guessing yourself.
"I can move—"
"No!" she answered so quickly she startled herself, the little ring of light around her eye glowing brighter as Ty chuckled. His arm secured you across himself, a steady arm siding across your back, he left enough room open that you could slide out if you really wanted to, but the look in his eyes would hold you there for some time.
You looked over to see Tandy staring at you with her mouth hanging open.
"...You're cuddling us."
"I know."
"No, I don't think you do. Oh. My. God” She bit her lower lip and sat back, basking in the sight of her favorite people being adorable together. Ty was more physical than either you or Tandy, but because all shadows were an extension of himself he seemed more reclusive. Ty's quiet laugh rumbled beneath your cheek, his other hand settling carefully against your cheek as though he was afraid too much movement would scare you away.
"You've never done this before."
"I just..." You shrugged against him. "Missed you."
Tandy's expression softened so completely it almost hurt to look at.
"You missed us?”, she drew out every syllable, dragging her ponytail holder out of her hair before crawling across the cushions until she was pressed against your other side, her arms wrapping around both you and Ty in one movement.
"There," she sighed happily, rubbing her face across your chest.
"Now it's a cuddle pile."
You laughed despite yourself, "I was thinking of… a little less… touching."
"Too late.” and at Tandy's blunt comment Ty smiled.
"I don't think she would've accepted anything less."
"I absolutely wouldn't have,” she tucked herself closer, resting her chin on your shoulder. At her opening her mouth to say something else, Ty gently pushed her chin back up and shook his head.
The look in his eyes almost telepathically communicated his sentiment: not now, they can talk about this tender moment again and again in the late night. Let her ease into it.
⚝ SUE STORM
Sue had been halfway through a magazine when the couch dipped beside her, and she smiled without looking up.
"Hi, sweetheart."
No answer, instead, you quietly tugged the magazine from her hands, folded it shut, and set it on the coffee table before climbing beneath the blanket she'd draped over her legs.
Sue blinked. "...Oh."
You didn't say anything as you simply curled against her side, tucked your head beneath her chin, and wrapped an arm around her waist like you'd done it a thousand times before. Except… you hadn’t.
Normally, you loved her fiercely from a respectable distance, the love the two of you shared was enough that she never questioned your affection, and Sue was more than happy with that. She did occasionally wonder if the two of you would ever get to a point where, this, would happen, but having you close to her yet stiff from tension and discomfort wasn't the sort of future she wanted so she was willing to wait.
At the lengthy silence, she rested one hand lightly against your back.
"Can I hold you?"
You answered by scooting impossibly closer, nuzzling your face into her neck and smelling the perfumed shampoo she had recently washed her hair with.
Sue laughed under her breath.
"I'll take that as a yes."
One arm settled around your shoulders while the other smoothed slow circles between your shoulder blades, and she let several quiet minutes pass before she spoke again.
"...Long day?"
You hummed, "A little."
"I'm sorry, darling”
Your fingers lazily gathered a fold of her sweater, smoothing the fabric out and tracing your fingers across the soft woven material
"I just wanted my girlfriend."
Sue's heart nearly stopped, she closed her eyes for a second, smiling to herself before pressing a kiss into your hair.
"Well..." Another kiss. "She’s awfully glad you came to get her." Sue could feel you getting heavier against her as sleep threatened to win, her soothing voice continuing to lull you towards it. Eventually she whispered
"You know..."
"Hm?"
"You never have to earn this."
You looked up, confused. "Hm?"
"Me, the affection, anything… I’m always your girlfriend, not just on a bad day” Her thumb brushed across your shoulder as she pressed another gentle kiss against your forehead.
You stared at her for a long moment before burying your face right back into her neck.
"...I know."
Sue smiled into your hair. "Just making sure."
⚝ KITTY PRYDE
Kitty held her breath as you walked over with a blanket, stilling her movement on her phone, worried even the minor dragging of her finger against the screen would scare you off like some sort of wild animal—and it seemed that her paranoia paid off when you laid across her lap, pulling a pillow from the other end of the couch to act as your headrest as you draped your body horizontally over hers.
For a second, she forgot how to breathe.
You'd never been one to initiate this sort of thing. Sitting shoulder to shoulder? Sure. Holding hands? Of course. But climbing into her space so casually, settling in as though you'd decided her lap was the best place in the mansion to spend your evening?
Kitty wasn't about to question a miracle.
She barely even dared blink.
As soon as she was sure you were comfortable and set for a LONG time (there was really no option other than staying there, knowing she'd pull the saddest face as soon as you started to move away), Kitty slowly... so slowly... moved her arm up to capture a selfie of the moment, sending it to Kurt with fire and thumbs-up emojis.
Look. LOOK.
His typing bubble appeared almost immediately.
Don't scare them.
Kitty physically had to bite the inside of her cheek to stop herself from laughing.
I'm trying.
She stared down at you, her eyes following the planes of your face and the peaceful expression you wore as you attempted to sleep, even with your chest uncomfortably placed over her thighs.
Eventually, the giddy feeling in her chest grew too much, the little sharp pains of her biting her lip to keep quiet wasn't enough to distract from it- her shoulders shaking with silent laughter because she genuinely couldn't believe you were the one cuddling her, and she hastily tossed her phone across the couch to lean down and squeal as she wrapped her arms around your figure, nuzzling her face against any exposed skin she could reach.
“I've so won in life. I have a cute girlfriend who is cuddling up to me... Did I do something to make you so happy, goofball?” she was giggling through her entire sentence, feeling you squirm under her arms as she unexpectedly blanketed herself over your body.
“I just missed you, is all,” and as you pressed your cold nose to her skin, Kitty shrieked; mostly you think, out of joy that you were nuzzling into her
“I don't think I could take being away from you long enough to getcha to miss me,” she sighed. “But please do this more often. You're so welcome to miss me even when I'm right here.”
⚝ ILLYANA RASPUTINA
Illyana didn't say anything as your thighs bracketed her own, casting an owlish, wide-eyed stare at you while you shuffled around to place your head on her chest—thankfully not covered in her armor at the moment.
She lifted her arms and held tight to her book as you got comfortable, her body completely still and stiff until your final sigh of contentment, and then slowly lowered her arms down in a perfect arc. The mechanical maneuver reminded you of some sort of rusty robot, and you giggled as you thought of the creaking sound that would emanate.
“You should tell me your jokes instead of laughing alone.”
You looked up to see your girlfriend’s pouting face, her chin now disturbed from its resting place atop your head, her gray eyes flicking back and forth between your own and her spellbook.
“You’re moving like a robot, ’Ya,” and with a soft laugh, you went back to laying on her chest—or you tried to, as Illyana sat up at your comment, causing you to fall backward with a yelp, now laying back on her knees and shins, which were notably less soft than her boobs.
“I’m being very good about the touch! You’re trying to prank me for your TikToks, and I was being cute for the camera!” She had raised her voice, now obviously flustered from having to admit her take on the situation, and for a second you felt bad about not approaching her slower to start off with. The two of you worked so well together, especially given your largely touch-adverse nature.
You sighed as you sat up on your elbows, rocking her side to side with your knees pressed alongside her ribs.
“’Lya, I was just trying to show you I love you. It's not something I planned, I just thought it’d be sweet. I'm sorry I didn't say something about it first, but I didn't wanna talk myself out of the mood.”
She cast her eyes down to the side, a red flush climbing from her ears to her cheeks and down to her neck, fully closing her book and setting it down to play with the cuff of your socks, running her fingers on top of and then under the cotton material.
After a few moments of silence, Illyana shuffled back, pulling her legs from under you, only to then place her head on your chest.
“I like you always. I didn't expect you to do something different from usual. I like it for now.”
And as your laugh rang out above her, Illyana relaxed and melded against you. She likes this. Maybe not always, but on a rare occasion, it feels nice.
who ever you choose of marvel and DC with a gf or gn partner who is like not clingy at all and is super cuddly all the sudden and in their lap and stuff? hope your doing ok
Cuddle-bug
ft.Marvel
-> Included (Marvel): Wolverine, Nightcrawler, Gambit, The Human Torch, Moon Knight(2022 D+ Show), Blade, Cloak & Dagger, The Invisible Woman, Kitty Pryde, Magik,
UP NEXT (DC): Kyle Rayner, Guy Gardner, Hal Jordan, John Stewart & Shayera Hol, The Flash, Kid Flash, Wonder Woman, Zatanna, Constantine, Booster Gold & Blue Beetle, Arsenal
Content Warnings: Fem!Reader, established relationship, reader's weight/body type is unspecified but the characters involved can comfortably hold them on their lap/chest
Moon Knight here is from the series not the comics
A/N: Biting my lip WHOEVER I CHOOSE?? Also I stole the new way i'm formatting names from @/jamesdeanbby (all caps, bolded, and subscripted) ヾ(_ _。）
⚝ LOGAN HOWLETT
Logan had noticed your strange behavior before you had even touched him. You had circled him throughout the day, following along with whatever he was doing (not that he was all that busy).
Every time he had stopped, there you were: in the kitchen, the garage, the porch—and eventually the prickly, itching feeling along his neck and shoulders was too much to ignore as he turned around again. And, as you had been, you were there.
Logan was no psychic. He didn't know what you wanted, but there had to be some point to your clinginess today, and not knowing was creeping him out.
“You need somethin’?” His sideways glance betrayed the gruff and indifferent tone of his voice, hazel eyes darting across your figure.
“Nope,” and at his skeptical look, you just shrugged.
“Right…” and he went back to sharpening one of his knives. You never did really get why he needed them, considering he's basically made of knives, but his precious few hobbies meant as much to you as they did to him.
A minute later, he felt the couch dip, causing Logan to draw his knife closer to his body. Another minute, and you were pressed against his side.
Logan's hand froze.
“You sick?” and you don't even get a chance to shake your head before he continues, “Someone die?”
You sit back slightly and look at him, offended.
“Can I not sit down with my boyfriend?”
He eyed you for another long second before grunting.
"...Usually you don't."
Then, without warning, you swung one leg over his lap and tucked yourself against his shoulder as Logan stared.
"Fucking hell."
“Ok fine then, no being sweet”, and at your first movement away from him, he let out a long sigh through his nose.
"...Don't be a brat."
His knife was tossed onto the coffee table as his broad arm wrapped around your waist almost absentmindedly, holding you in place while he went back to watching television.
The peace didn't last even five minutes before Logan broke the silence again.
"...Seriously though."
"Hm?"
"You got a concussion?"
“Logan if you keep ruining the moment i’ll give you a concussion”
⚝ KURT WAGNER
Kurt had been comfortably settled into one of the library armchairs, one leg tucked beneath himself while the other rested over the arm, an old novel balanced between three-fingered hands. The room was quiet save for the occasional turn of a page and the soft swish of his tail lazily flicking behind him.
He looked up the moment your footsteps entered the room.
"Ach, hallo, Liebling."
You smiled back at your fuzzy blue companion, matching the joyful gleam in his golden eyes, but didn't answer, instead wandering over until you stood beside his chair.
He marked his page with one careful finger.
"Is everything all right?"
You nodded "Mhm."
He waited.
You... continued standing there.
His tail slowed.
"...Did you need something?"
You shook your head again, almost having to stifle a laugh at his confusion, "No, nothing"
"...Oh."
Silence settled between you and Kurt smiled anyway, content enough just to have you nearby, before lowering his eyes back to his book. The smile lingered on his face as he resumed reading. Even while you weren't talking, your company had always been enough for him. There was something so pleasantly domestic about sharing a room without feeling obligated to fill it with conversation, the comfort of silence. His tail idly brushed once against the side of your shoe, the only sign he hadn't forgotten you were there.
Another minute passed before you said something
"Kurt."
"Hm?"
You tilted your head. "...Why aren't you touching me?"
Kurts book flipped several pages when he turned to look over his shoulder, mouth slightly agape in shock.
"...Was I supposed to be?"
Your brows knitted together. "I've been standing here forever."
"I did not wish to assume!" he defended, laughing as he hurried to set the book aside. "Normally, if I move toward you first, you look at me as though you are considering climbing out the nearest window."
"I do not."
His grin widened "Ach but leibling you absolutely do." And at his statement, Kurt opened his arms anyway.
"May I?"
Instead of answering, you stepped between his knees and folded yourself against his chest. His arms wrapped securely around your back, careful while his tail curled loosely around your calf of its own accord.
"You are very comfortable," he murmured into your hair.
“I think that's my line."
“I wanted to do this much earlier,” he laughed, the sound vibrating warmly beneath your cheek. "I was trying to be respectful."
"I appreciate that,” your hands tightened around the back of his shirt, “I don't know when I’ll be okay to do… this… again”
Kurt's expression softened so completely it made your chest ache. He understood what you meant without asking another question, the reason you two were so perfectly suited for eachother. Tomorrow, you might go right back to linking a finger and lingering beside him instead of leaning against him. You might tense up if he reached for your hand first. But the beauty of it all was this moment where your love was stronger than reservation, where Kurt in his drought had been given a reservoir of water.
"I believe," he said, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, "that is something I will always accommodate, süße." His tail gave another pleased flick.
⚝ REMY LEBEAU
Remy was almost offended. You hadn't done anything wrong, it was almost impossible for you to do anythin worth Remy’s scrutiny, but because you were acting far… far too normal.
No response when he'd greeted you. No quick-handed attempt to steal or destabilize the cards dancing effortlessly between his fingers. You hadn't even rolled your eyes when he'd called you cher. It was like your mind was somewhere up in the clouds.
You'd just... watched him, rather affectionately even, in Remy’s opinion, and he let it go for almost ten minutes before finally lowering the deck into one hand.
"C'mon now."
His green eyes found yours immediately.
"You been starin' holes clean through me. Remy knows you'd tell your ol' lover anythin', so what's got dat head so busy, cher?"
"I have not."
A grin spread across his face.
"Mm. Liar."
Your eyes flicked away at his accusation, that was when he knew something was off. You never lied to him, or if there was some sort of hidden truth you were quick to spill as soon as Remy even gave you a questioning look.
The deck disappeared into his pocket as he leaned forward, elbows on his knees.
"You wanna tell me what's got dat pretty head so busy?"
Instead of answering, you crossed the room. Remy had expected you to busy your hands with his cards, and use your position in his pockets to shrug his coat off his broad shoulders and onto yourself.
Instead...
You simply lowered yourself into his lap, curling up against him as naturally as anyone could, tucking your face against his neck and feeling the stubble beneath his chin.
Every line he'd ever practiced vanished.
"...Well."
His voice came out noticeably quieter.
One hand hovered awkwardly behind your back before settling there, broad palm rubbing once between your shoulder blades.
"Cher..." He smiled to himself. "You really surprised me, y'know dat?"
You looked up, your planned statement interrupted by a chaste kiss to your forehead.
“Are you uncomfortable?”
"You looked at me all afternoon like you were figurin' out how t' do dis. Non... if anythin', Ah'm wonderin' why you ain't done it sooner."
Heat climbed into your cheeks, and Remy could feel the burning against his own warm skin.
"Aww..." His forehead rested briefly against your hair. "Poor cher... you were nervous."
"You thought too hard 'bout dis, didn't you?"
You freeze,"...Maybe."
"Mm." A kiss to your temple. "Next time, don't ask your head. Listen t' your heart. Seems t' know what it's doin'."
"'M not usually like this."
"Cher, if anybody knows dat 'bout you, it's me." There wasn't disappointment in his voice, "...Makes it feel like Ah won somethin'."
⚝ JOHNNY STORM
Johnny almost missed it.
Not because he wasn't paying attention, you always had his attention, always, it’s his favorite thing to pay attention to; but because he'd spent the last ten minutes talking almost exclusively with his hands, halfway through an animated retelling of something Ben had said earlier that morning.
"...And then he has the nerve to tell me I'm the dramatic one—"
Your weight settled onto his lap, and Johnny kept talking, wrapping his forearms around your body and talking practically against your skin, breath fanning across your shoulder on each word before his sentence abruptly ended in the middle of a point.
Johnny blinked owlishly before looking down, back up, down again…
"...Hang on."
You'd tucked yourself comfortably against him, one arm lazily draped around his middle as if there were nothing unusual about the situation.
There was. Oh my god there absolutely was. His eyebrows climbed higher and higher as he kept opening his mouth, a wide smile breaking out on his face.
Johnny was obviously putting tremendous effort into not saying something to ruin the mood, but his excitement won out after… maybe ten seconds
"...What… no way,”, a reddish flush was blooming on his cheeks, as he rapidly licked his lips to stop them from drying out, courtesy of his still befuddled expression
"What?" you asked. You knew what, your touchy boyfriend was reeling from getting to cling to you without making some sort of bargain, but the cute expressions he was pulling was honestly enough to get you to consider doing this more often
"You." He (lightly) shook you with theatrical disbelief. "You're sitting on me!"
You laughed quietly.
"I can move."
"No!"
His answer came much too fast.
One hand immediately landed on your back, "You don't get to hook me on this and leave, nuh-uh."
"I'm not going anywhere, space boy”
Johnny searched your face for literally anything suggesting this was some elaborate setup. And after finding none his shoulders slowly relaxed.
"...This is awesome, amazing." He couldn't stop smiling. “Its… fire”
And at your loud groan he held you tighter, looking almost boyishly pleased about his terrible pun.
⚝ STEVEN GRANT
Steven had been completely absorbed in a museum catalogue, one knee tucked beneath himself on the couch, reading glasses slowly slipping down his nose.
He didn't even notice you'd come in until the pages stopped turning, your gentle hand pressed against the delicate paper.
"Oh!” He looked up, smiling immediately. "Hello, love."
You smiled back. "Hi Steven"
Neither of you said anything else, and at your silence you could see the corners of Steven's smile wobble, as he tilted his head.
"...Everything alright, darling?"
"Mhm, everything."
He nodded, sucking in a tentative breath "...Right."
He waited for the rest of your statement, eyes following yours as he saw them trace across his features. Did you come over here just to stare at him?
Instead, you carefully lifted the catalogue from his lap, set it on the coffee table, then climbed onto the couch beside him.
For a brief, and hopeful second, Steven assumed you simply wanted to sit together.
Then you kept going.
Your knees slid over either side of one of his legs before you folded your arms over him, resting your head on top of his curly hair with a quiet sigh that sounded almost involuntary. Steven froze, your heartbeat under his ear much calmer than the one he could feel in his own chest, thumping hard enough he figured it could probably walk away on its own if it so wished.
He was suddenly terrified of moving the wrong way.
"...May I..." His voice came out almost in a whisper, cracking halfway through as he cleared his throat "Can I… hold you?"
You answered by curling closer and pulling him down with you, your back hitting the soft cushioning of Steven’s reading couch as he was now laying on top of you.
His entire face softened, smile still ever present as he looked down at you
"Oh, I see."
One arm slipped around your waist while the other came up almost reverently to cup the side of your face, thumb brushing against the corner of your mouth.
"There you are."
You hummed sleepily as Steven smiled to himself.
"You know..."
"Hm?"
"I don't think I've ever been this happy."
You laughed quietly against his sweater.
"It's just a hug, Stevie"
"I know, I know…" His cheek rested lightly against the top of your head. "...That's exactly why, love"
⚝ ERIC BROOKS
Eric knew you were behind him, he heard your footsteps stall in the doorway several minutes ago. You weren't being particularly loud, but between his enhanced senses and the stillness of the night he was aware of everything happening within his apartment.
"You gonna stand there all day?" He hadn’t turned to you yet, but he had slowed the movement of his whetstone. Once he had finished, he glanced over his shoulder.
"...Somethin' wrong?"
You shake your head, looking over to him.
Blade hummed, and went back to wiping down one of his swords, occasionally flicking his eyes over to you. He could hear your steps shuffling closer to him,
"...Can I sit?"
He looked up again, balking at your timid demeanor. What the hell could be unsettling you enough for you to be practically shaking in your boots. (You were not in fact, trembling in fear, Eric is just unable to comprehend you being uncomfortable asking him to do anything)
"Since when do you need permission from me?"
At his shocked staring, you move forward and plant yourself practically on top of him- nudging the wrist gone still to keep his sword definitively pointed away from you and your… finagling. Eric had expected you to sit next to him, maybe your feet draped onto his lap as you leaned on the opposite end of the couch.
“Did someone bother you? Have you been having nightmares while I'm out? You don't have to worry, Vlad can’t mess with your mind. I struck a deal with the wizard.”
You stilled while climbing into his lap, your fingers still entwined with his as you looked down,
“You… struck a deal. With a wizard”
“The Sorcerer Supreme, not a wizard. I lied.” His free hand came up almost cautiously, settling against the back of your head.
You felt your cheeks hurting from how wide your smile was, his thumb brushed once through your hair.
"...Missed me?"
You nodded. "...Yeah."
Another quiet moment passed.
"I missed you too. Always miss you” You can feel as his posture slumps slightly, as he tucks your body securely against him to lean down and put away his sword.
“Sweet talker” you murmur “makes me wonder what you’re aiming for”
“ ‘s you, only you”
You laughed under your breath, and Eric’s hand tightened once at the back of your head, not enough to stop you, just enough to keep you there and feel your breath against his neck.
“Good answer.” You tipped your head up to look at him.
He didn’t bother pretending not to notice. His eyes stayed on you for a long second before he finally looked back down at your mouth, then your face, then your mouth again like he was considering whether or not to say something else.
“I want you to stay.”
It came out rough, almost grudging, like he was annoyed at himself for saying it out loud. You only smiled wider.
“I was planning on it.”
⚝ TY JOHNSON/TANDY BOWEN
Ty noticed you before Tandy did, not because he was watching you, but because the living room dimmed almost imperceptibly as you wandered in, stepping in front of a small lamp in the corner. He looked up from where he'd been reading, watching you hesitate in the doorway for several seconds.
"Love, is everything okay?"
You nodded.
"Mhm."
That wasn't exactly reassuring.
Tandy, still stretched out across the opposite end of the couch with one leg hanging over the armrest, finally looked up from her phone.
"What?" she asked, glancing between the two of you. "Why're you both making faces?"
"I'm not making a face," you muttered.
Ty raised an eyebrow. "You've been standing there for almost a minute."
“Have not!”
Tandy snorted, "Sweetheart, you're gonna have to give us something."
You crossed the room, before your nerves could get the better of you at the last second. Instead of sitting beside him like you'd intended, you found yourself half climbing into his lap, your arms wrapping around his middle before your brain had a chance to object.
Tandy gasped almost instantly, which in turn led you to immediately start second-guessing yourself.
"I can move—"
"No!" she answered so quickly she startled herself, the little ring of light around her eye glowing brighter as Ty chuckled. His arm secured you across himself, a steady arm siding across your back, he left enough room open that you could slide out if you really wanted to, but the look in his eyes would hold you there for some time.
You looked over to see Tandy staring at you with her mouth hanging open.
"...You're cuddling us."
"I know."
"No, I don't think you do. Oh. My. God” She bit her lower lip and sat back, basking in the sight of her favorite people being adorable together. Ty was more physical than either you or Tandy, but because all shadows were an extension of himself he seemed more reclusive. Ty's quiet laugh rumbled beneath your cheek, his other hand settling carefully against your cheek as though he was afraid too much movement would scare you away.
"You've never done this before."
"I just..." You shrugged against him. "Missed you."
Tandy's expression softened so completely it almost hurt to look at.
"You missed us?”, she drew out every syllable, dragging her ponytail holder out of her hair before crawling across the cushions until she was pressed against your other side, her arms wrapping around both you and Ty in one movement.
"There," she sighed happily, rubbing her face across your chest.
"Now it's a cuddle pile."
You laughed despite yourself, "I was thinking of… a little less… touching."
"Too late.” and at Tandy's blunt comment Ty smiled.
"I don't think she would've accepted anything less."
"I absolutely wouldn't have,” she tucked herself closer, resting her chin on your shoulder. At her opening her mouth to say something else, Ty gently pushed her chin back up and shook his head.
The look in his eyes almost telepathically communicated his sentiment: not now, they can talk about this tender moment again and again in the late night. Let her ease into it.
⚝ SUE STORM
Sue had been halfway through a magazine when the couch dipped beside her, and she smiled without looking up.
"Hi, sweetheart."
No answer, instead, you quietly tugged the magazine from her hands, folded it shut, and set it on the coffee table before climbing beneath the blanket she'd draped over her legs.
Sue blinked. "...Oh."
You didn't say anything as you simply curled against her side, tucked your head beneath her chin, and wrapped an arm around her waist like you'd done it a thousand times before. Except… you hadn’t.
Normally, you loved her fiercely from a respectable distance, the love the two of you shared was enough that she never questioned your affection, and Sue was more than happy with that. She did occasionally wonder if the two of you would ever get to a point where, this, would happen, but having you close to her yet stiff from tension and discomfort wasn't the sort of future she wanted so she was willing to wait.
At the lengthy silence, she rested one hand lightly against your back.
"Can I hold you?"
You answered by scooting impossibly closer, nuzzling your face into her neck and smelling the perfumed shampoo she had recently washed her hair with.
Sue laughed under her breath.
"I'll take that as a yes."
One arm settled around your shoulders while the other smoothed slow circles between your shoulder blades, and she let several quiet minutes pass before she spoke again.
"...Long day?"
You hummed, "A little."
"I'm sorry, darling”
Your fingers lazily gathered a fold of her sweater, smoothing the fabric out and tracing your fingers across the soft woven material
"I just wanted my girlfriend."
Sue's heart nearly stopped, she closed her eyes for a second, smiling to herself before pressing a kiss into your hair.
"Well..." Another kiss. "She’s awfully glad you came to get her." Sue could feel you getting heavier against her as sleep threatened to win, her soothing voice continuing to lull you towards it. Eventually she whispered
"You know..."
"Hm?"
"You never have to earn this."
You looked up, confused. "Hm?"
"Me, the affection, anything… I’m always your girlfriend, not just on a bad day” Her thumb brushed across your shoulder as she pressed another gentle kiss against your forehead.
You stared at her for a long moment before burying your face right back into her neck.
"...I know."
Sue smiled into your hair. "Just making sure."
⚝ KITTY PRYDE
Kitty held her breath as you walked over with a blanket, stilling her movement on her phone, worried even the minor dragging of her finger against the screen would scare you off like some sort of wild animal—and it seemed that her paranoia paid off when you laid across her lap, pulling a pillow from the other end of the couch to act as your headrest as you draped your body horizontally over hers.
For a second, she forgot how to breathe.
You'd never been one to initiate this sort of thing. Sitting shoulder to shoulder? Sure. Holding hands? Of course. But climbing into her space so casually, settling in as though you'd decided her lap was the best place in the mansion to spend your evening?
Kitty wasn't about to question a miracle.
She barely even dared blink.
As soon as she was sure you were comfortable and set for a LONG time (there was really no option other than staying there, knowing she'd pull the saddest face as soon as you started to move away), Kitty slowly... so slowly... moved her arm up to capture a selfie of the moment, sending it to Kurt with fire and thumbs-up emojis.
Look. LOOK.
His typing bubble appeared almost immediately.
Don't scare them.
Kitty physically had to bite the inside of her cheek to stop herself from laughing.
I'm trying.
She stared down at you, her eyes following the planes of your face and the peaceful expression you wore as you attempted to sleep, even with your chest uncomfortably placed over her thighs.
Eventually, the giddy feeling in her chest grew too much, the little sharp pains of her biting her lip to keep quiet wasn't enough to distract from it- her shoulders shaking with silent laughter because she genuinely couldn't believe you were the one cuddling her, and she hastily tossed her phone across the couch to lean down and squeal as she wrapped her arms around your figure, nuzzling her face against any exposed skin she could reach.
“I've so won in life. I have a cute girlfriend who is cuddling up to me... Did I do something to make you so happy, goofball?” she was giggling through her entire sentence, feeling you squirm under her arms as she unexpectedly blanketed herself over your body.
“I just missed you, is all,” and as you pressed your cold nose to her skin, Kitty shrieked; mostly you think, out of joy that you were nuzzling into her
“I don't think I could take being away from you long enough to getcha to miss me,” she sighed. “But please do this more often. You're so welcome to miss me even when I'm right here.”
⚝ ILLYANA RASPUTINA
Illyana didn't say anything as your thighs bracketed her own, casting an owlish, wide-eyed stare at you while you shuffled around to place your head on her chest—thankfully not covered in her armor at the moment.
She lifted her arms and held tight to her book as you got comfortable, her body completely still and stiff until your final sigh of contentment, and then slowly lowered her arms down in a perfect arc. The mechanical maneuver reminded you of some sort of rusty robot, and you giggled as you thought of the creaking sound that would emanate.
“You should tell me your jokes instead of laughing alone.”
You looked up to see your girlfriend’s pouting face, her chin now disturbed from its resting place atop your head, her gray eyes flicking back and forth between your own and her spellbook.
“You’re moving like a robot, ’Ya,” and with a soft laugh, you went back to laying on her chest—or you tried to, as Illyana sat up at your comment, causing you to fall backward with a yelp, now laying back on her knees and shins, which were notably less soft than her boobs.
“I’m being very good about the touch! You’re trying to prank me for your TikToks, and I was being cute for the camera!” She had raised her voice, now obviously flustered from having to admit her take on the situation, and for a second you felt bad about not approaching her slower to start off with. The two of you worked so well together, especially given your largely touch-adverse nature.
You sighed as you sat up on your elbows, rocking her side to side with your knees pressed alongside her ribs.
“’Lya, I was just trying to show you I love you. It's not something I planned, I just thought it’d be sweet. I'm sorry I didn't say something about it first, but I didn't wanna talk myself out of the mood.”
She cast her eyes down to the side, a red flush climbing from her ears to her cheeks and down to her neck, fully closing her book and setting it down to play with the cuff of your socks, running her fingers on top of and then under the cotton material.
After a few moments of silence, Illyana shuffled back, pulling her legs from under you, only to then place her head on your chest.
“I like you always. I didn't expect you to do something different from usual. I like it for now.”
And as your laugh rang out above her, Illyana relaxed and melded against you. She likes this. Maybe not always, but on a rare occasion, it feels nice.
Could you do a mutant!teen!reader and fatherfigure!Wolverine fic where Reader is in love with the new murder me mutina movie (it’s from the new uncanny x men) and has all the merch and shrines and everyone and How wolverine would react to that considering murder me mutina is a anti mutant film ?
(Just an idea of the reader dressing up like mutina and welding her weapons for a danger room session)
Murder Me Wolverine (1.5k)
ft. Wolverine (X-Men)
Content Warnings: Fem!Reader, Controversial opinions from "Reader", Logan says 'queer' but its then insinuated he is queer himself, reader gets scolded a lot, Logan calls reader "pips"/"kid"
A/N: Reader is obviously considered to be in the wrong here, and there is no 'well she didnt mean it!! so its ok!!' because we #takeaccountability
Also i wanted a lox bagel SO BAD these last two days and they've fucked it up major scale the two times ive gotten one. If any of yall work at bagel places please lmk what salmon you use because i need to just make my own atp.
The Danger Room doors hissed open, and announced your presence with a robotic "Initiating combat scenario."
The speakers barely finished before something small and silver whipped through the air, Logan caught it without looking, and studied the miniature metal scythe you had chucked his way.
"...What."
Across the room stood you, bouncing excitedly on your heels. The outfit had taken weeks to piece together, but you did it and it looked so real! Eerily real, to Logan. A spitting image to Leticia.
From the leather boots covering your toes to the cat-like mask disguising your expression. 3D replicas of Mutina's signature blades strapped to your back. Even your hair was covered by a styled wig… or had been bleached pure white somehow. Every small thing had been changed to match the actress from the newest Murder Me Mutina film.
Logan truly believes if you hadn't left your eyes uncovered he would have attacked. Just out of reflex, out of disgust.
"You like it?" you asked proudly. "I finally got everything! I even found someone online who prints screen-accurate weapons."
A dead silence filled the air as you spun around showing off. Barely catching Wolverine’s stony expression.
Logan looked at you for a long moment before throwing the prop on the floor.
"...Take it off."
You blinked. "What?"
"The costume."
"But-"
"I said take it off."
Your smile faltered. "I just wanted to train in it."
"No."
"But it's just a movie, Logan! I spent so long on this, where am I supposed to wear it if not in here?”
His jaw tightened.
"You think that's just a movie?"
"...Yeah? It’s not like I’m naked or anything, literally what is the problem? A costume, uniform, et-cet-er-uh" You huffed out your answer, enunciating the last few syllables dramatically
Another long, dead silence, as Logan's cold anger bore into your skin. Your only reprieve was when he rubbed a hand over his face.
"Kid. Walk, now."
The hallway felt unusually empty, Xavier had set up trips for most of the school to still learn during the summer season. As the two of you walked, Logan's eyes flicked over to how you still had the mask tucked awkwardly under your arm.
"I didn't mean anything by it, Logan, honest."
"I know."
"You know?"
"I know." Logan sighed, "You ain't a hateful kid."
"So what's the problem?"
He stopped walking.
"You know what Mutina is?"
"...a slasher killer?"
"No." His answer came instantly. "She's propaganda."
You frowned "I mean that's a little dramatic, it's fictional."
Logan glared, the muscles in his jaw flexed beneath a day's worth of stubble,"So're cartoons, so're comics, so're movies.",
His eyes relaxed, now just seeming flat and… tired
"People don't wake up hatin' somebody outta nowhere, kid. They get taught. Joking and comin’ up with their sick fantasies." He tilted his head toward the mask in your hands. "Then one day they stop seein' the difference between pretend and the folks standin' right in front of 'em."
You hesitated.
"I don't—"
"You've actually watched those movies?"
"It’s just one...five times."
"And what does she do?"
You smiled automatically.
"She kills people”
He stared, and your smile slowly disappeared.
"Yeah pips? How.”
"Well...they're usually hiding."
"Mh. And?"
"She..." you swallowed. "...finds them."
"Finds 'em because?"
"They..." The words sounded different now. "...can't hide what they are."
He nodded once. "And then?"
"...Kills them."
"Whole crowds cheer every time?"
You remembered the theater.
People laughing and clapping. Like in every slasher movie, the victims are stupid and make some mistake, but even beyond that smokescreen explanation it was obvious. They didn't have the luxury to do things “normal” kids can. No Mutant can.
"...Yeah."
Your muttered response brought you out of the building dread.
"You know what I was doin' before movies like that stopped makin' money?"
You looked at him but he wasn't looking back, blunt nails digging into the side of his neck and staring somewhere above the two of you.
"I was pullin' kids outta burned houses. I've seen parents tell mobs where their mutant kid was hidin'...”
Logan dropped his hand and stared at yours. The baby fat still clinging to the base of your fingers, your hands smaller than his, knuckles soft and not marred by scar tissue.
"I've seen little girls your age… dragged out because somebody spotted blue skin through a bedroom window."
His voice never rose, and it didn't have to for you to realize how much emotion Logan was baring to you.
"I've buried friends because people thought mutants were monsters."
You stared at the floor.
"I..."
"When people spend two hours cheerin' while someone guts mutant characters..."
He looked at the mask in your hands.
"...you think every person in that theater leaves it there?"
You didn't answer.
"They don't."
"I just..." Your voice came out small. "I thought it was like... zombies."
"I know."
"I didn't think about..."
"I know."
You frowned.
"But the actress said in interviews it's satire."
He barked a humorless laugh.
"Kid. You think the folks buyin' shirts with a mutant killer on 'em care what the actress meant?"
"I guess not."
"They like watchin' mutants die. And the actress likes it too, she tried to beat my ass. Scotty’s too, and Jean, and Kurt… all your heroes"
The sentence sat between you.
"I bought..." you whispered. "...everything."
"I noticed."
"My room..."
"Yeah."
Heat flooded your face.
"I wasn't trying to say mutants deserve it."
"I know."
"You believe me?"
Logan finally looked at you.
"I do."
Relief started to bloom
"Doesn't make it okay."
It disappeared just as quickly.
"You don't get judged just by what you mean.", He tapped the top of your replica mask, and the small action made indignation rise.
"Who are you to say anything about liking something problematic-" the embarrassment was flooding your chest, irritation growing that he wasn't letting it go.
"This ain't just 'problematic’.” His tone sharpened. "This ain't some old action movie that aged bad."
He flicked the mask.
"That franchise exists because people wanted to watch mutants butchered. They’d be screenin’ snuff films if they could”
"..."
"You think somebody makin' movies called Murder Me Queero would've gotten ten sequels?"
You blinked.
"No, and you can't say that Logan… don't say that, especially not in front of- "
"Yes I can, and back to my damn point, ‘s ‘cause people would've called it hateful."
Another silence.
"But mutants, that's all they see us as entertainment. We’re heroes for show and chew toys for show"
The walk back to your room was quiet, briefly you considered broaching the subject of what Logan had (possibly accidentally) confessed about himself but deemed it better to keep your mouth shut, your turmoil ending as you reached the door.
As soon as you pushed it open, your eyes fell on the corner where your merchandise had piled up. Posters, some featuring Mutina standing on a pile of corpses. Mutant corpses, obviously. The print blanket covering a chair, with her mask and scythes scattered across it in a messy pattern. Boxed figurines, photocards… and it was…
Different, now.
You hadn't noticed before. Not really. The little shrine right in your doorway, for everyone to see anytime they stopped by to ask a question or hang out.
Logan stood in the doorway.
"I'm not gonna march in there and throw your stuff away."
You looked up.
"That's your decision. Not really, it’ll piss me off as long as it’s there and ‘m not lettin this go,”
“But I needed you to understand why seein' you dressed like that..." he exhaled. "...it’s fucked up kid, it hurts."
That word caught you off guard.
"Hurts… you?"
"You know how many kids live here?"
You nodded, a shocked gasp escaping as you realized where he was going.
"They already spend every day wonderin' if the world wants 'em dead." He glanced back toward the hallway, "What do you think it tells 'em.. when one of their own dresses up like the woman famous for killin' people like them?"
Your throat tightened. You'd only thought it looked cool.
"I'm..." Your voice cracked, a small humiliating squeak interrupting your poor attempt at pretending you weren't about to cry.
"I'm sorry."
Logan nodded once. "I know."
You looked around your room again.
"I think..." you sniffled as you slowly pulled the poster off the wall, not from any sense of loss but pure regret. Stupidity, all of it. "...I have some redecorating to do."
He didn't smile but some of the tension left his shoulders, rolling them as he uncrossed his arms.
He turned to leave before pausing.
"Good. And kid?"
"Yeah?"
"Next Halloween..." He glanced over his shoulder. "...pick somebody who didn't try to kick my ass two months ago."
A tiny, embarrassed laugh escaped you. "I think I can manage that."
This time, Logan's expression softened just enough to count as a smile.
Hellooo! Would you do a Moon Knight x vigilante!fem reader fic where they used to work together, but after Marc gets severely injured on a mission, he falls into a major depressive spiral that keeps him from being Moon Knight and fighting crime anymore?The reader is furious with him for giving up, especially because she knows how hard he fought to survive in the first place. Their relationship is strained and bitter, with the reader constantly torn between anger and concern while Marc isolates himself and pushes everyone away.I’d love for the fic to take inspiration from the 2006 run(if you have read it already) or basically have a darker tone LOL.
-😛 hope your doing well!
Oathbreaker (WC: 2k)
ft. Moon Knight (Marc Spector)
Content Warnings: Fem!Reader was in mind but I think it's functionally gender neutral. Suicidal Marc, Depression, Reader mentions almost dying, Marc almost died, Substance Abuse, Relationship ambiguous(romantic/platonic)
A/N: Notes for the non-comic readers of MK! His original suit is not mentally summoned, and is made of adamantium and kevlar. He is American(Marc was born in Chicago!), they all are, and he bases his activities mostly in NYC (sometimes California).
If you wish to send an ask for Moon Knight, please specify what version because I write for any!
The apartment smelled stale.
It wasn’t rotten or damp with mildew, Marc hadn’t fallen far enough for that yet, his glass cups littered every countertop- their contents reduced onto the bottom in a syrupy mass. White curtains, now gray with dust, were drawn against an afternoon sun, and somewhere in the living room a television muttered to itself, volume low enough that it blurred into static. Empty takeout containers stacked on the coffee table beside half-empty prescription bottles.
You stood in the doorway longer than you had meant to, the sight worse than the last time you’d had the ‘gall to barge in’
"What the fuck, Marc."
He didn't look over, he was sitting on the couch, elbow propped against the armrest, staring at nothing in particular, eyes glazed and jaw set- veins visible through the clenched muscle.
"You know where the door is."
The rise of bile in your throat was the only thing to fully pull you out of shock. Sickness from the worry, or from your battered state, you’re unsure.
Three months.
Three months since you’d watched his blood soak through white bandages faster than the medics could stuff or stitch his wounds. Three months since you’d sat outside the operating room with blood caked beneath your fingernails, ruby liquid that sept beneath your gloves, bargaining with gods you didn't even believe in. Khonshu and his healing gone for whatever reason, Marc surely wasn’t conscious enough to explain it.
Three months of thinking, He made it. He made it, he didn’t die, and in the darkest parts of your brain you thought this was worse.
You quietly shut the apartment door behind yourself.
"You missed patrol. You’ve missed many patrols”
"I know."
"The docks got hit again, not the cult, but there were some casualties."
Silence.
"The East Side clinic was robbed too."
Nothing.
"Marc."
"I heard you."
"I don't think you really did, Marc, I almost died getting those people out. I can’t pick up after the cult for this moon blessing you have going on and every wrongdoer.”
"I know."
"You know? You know what? Everything, right?”
Marc finally looked at you, but the black pools of his iris’ only seemed to exaggerate the shadows around his face. He looked like shit. Red rimmed eyes, the corner of his bottom lip had been chewed to the point of bleeding, baby hairs matted to his face with sweat and stubble to match.
"I listen to the scanner." He cleared his throat, his voice coarse and dry. Every word seemed to bring him some sort of pain, and for a moment you weren’t sure if he had said anything out loud since his last meeting with you.
It took a moment to recover but you managed out a shocked “What?"
"I hear every call."
He looked back toward the now dark television, having clicked it off sometime during your horrified staring.
"I hear your voice." A pause. “I hear when you get hurt, the scanner isn’t for the police. I modified it for your comms,” Another pause, longer this time. He let out a shaky breath, and you could see the adam’s apple bob in his throat
The anger you’d carried all the way there stumbled. Expecting excuses and defensiveness, Marc who knows more who has done this longer than you or done things more intense than you had. Marc who wouldn’t ever be the one in the wrong and if he thought he was then it was still your fault somehow for listening to him.
You hadn’t expected… almost crying. The closest you’ve ever seen to Marc crying.
"You fought so hard to survive. I fought so hard to have you survive." Your voice came out quieter than you’d intended. "Why would you stop now? Marlene had to drag you by the hair to even walk again. I had to fight her- physically!, just to make it so you could recover on your own time.”
Marc laughed. A dry, humorless exhale. As his empty eyes roamed across your face.
"You think I wake up wanting this?" he asked. "You think I enjoy watching the city burn while I sit here?"
"I didn't say that."
"You didn't have to. You’d rather think I have some sort of sick pleasure from hearing you scream" He leaned forward, saliva coating his lips and a harsh shadow falling across his face and body, his haggard expression all the sudden terrifying.
"I get up. Every morning and every night" His voice had become so soft you almost missed it. "I walk to the closet." He pointed, sharp and quick, "My suit's in there."
Another pause.
"I stare at it." He rubbed at his eyes. "And then I spend twenty minutes trying to convince myself to open the door." His hand dropped uselessly into his lap.
"I usually lose."
Silence settled between the two of you. You hadn’t truly been mad from him quitting, or taking a break, a sabbatical, whatever he wanted to call it. You had almost lost him in the fight, and you had almost lost him in the hospital. And you had lost him by your side. You had lost Marc, the Marc he was, bitter and remorseful sometimes but now that's all he was.
Every time he ignored a message, every time he didn't answer your call for help, every time you stood outside this apartment the sickening empty feeling of loss had you wondering if you would be too late this time. That the lock would be fastened and Marc would be cold on his floor surrounded by expired prescriptions.
Sometime in your spiraling thoughts you had started shuffling forwards, your knees flush with his as Marc tensed instinctively. But you didn't hug him or pull him to stand and face you directly, and Marc reached out to catch you as you slumped in front of him- forehead resting on his shin.
"I was scared," you admitted. The confession seemed to surprise you both. "I'm still scared."
Marc stared at the floor. "I know."
"No. I don't think you do." your fingers twisted together, nails digging into the calloused digits. "I keep getting angry because..." you laughed weakly. "Because if I'm angry, I don't have to think about how close I came to planning your funeral."
The words hung between them. Marc's breathing hitched and he managed to whisper out a sad "I survived,"
"I know." You finally looked at him.
"But you came home." A tear slipped down your cheek before you could stop it. "...and somehow I still lost you."
Marc’s head simply lowered into trembling hands. He couldn’t meet your eyes, he couldn’t watch the tears fall as you sat on the ground below him.
The apartment was silent again. The same exhausting silence as when you had walked in
You wiped furiously at your face with the heel of your hand, annoyed that the tears wouldn't stop. Somewhere outside, a siren wailed through the streets before fading into the distance.
Neither of you moved.
"I don't..." Marc started, only for his voice to catch.
He swallowed hard.
"I don't know how to come back. I don't want to come back and I know that I have to. To pay for everything I’ve done, dying would be a service. People want me dead for what we did. They want you dead too but I can't… I can't imagine you gone, dead. Without me there first."
The words were barely audible. Not a confession made to you, this was all information you were well aware of, the haunting actions he had almost joyously completed was something nobody could atone for.
Your eyes drifted toward the closet he'd pointed to.
The suit was behind that door. His pristine white cape, the crescent darts, the armor that had always made him look impossible to kill, the godlike persona who could terrify the bravest.
It was almost funny, so much death contained in an ornate piece of wood.
"You don't have to know," you answered after a long while.
He didn't react. You weren’t sure he knew what you meant, you weren't sure where exactly you were going with this either. The bitter mood was no place for a happy-go-lucky talk about dreams and hopes.
"You don't have to wake up tomorrow and be Moon Knight. God I’d be more shocked if you appeared on the streets and were degloving Taskmaster like nothing happened. Another pause. "I just..." You rubbed at your eyes again, letting out a shaky laugh that sounded nothing like the true one he had grown to know.
"I need you to stop making me wonder whether you're alive every time you don't answer the phone."
Marc squeezed his eyes shut.
"I've been awful."
"You've been sick. You are sick. We both are, it comes with the trade”
He flinched harder at that than he had at any accusation.
"I've said awful things."
"You have."
"I scared you."
"...Yeah."
His shoulders began to tense. Silent, tearless crying that seemed to hurt more than any wound he'd ever stitched closed. Gasping breaths between his tightened throat.
You'd seen him beaten bloody, you had watched him crawl across concrete with a knife still buried in his side, and before these three months nothing had ever looked painful. But the wounded man in front of you was the rawest version of Marc you had ever seen.
Slowly, carefully, you rested your hand against the side of the couch. Not on him, but just close enough that if he wanted to reach back...he wouldn't have to reach very far.
For several long seconds, nothing happened.
Then, without lifting his head, his trembling hand slid over the cushion and his fingers found yours.
ft. Misc.DC
-> Included: Hellblazer, Booster Gold, Blue Beetle (ii), Kyle Rayner, Guy Gardner
64.media.tumblr.com
Content Warnings: Suggestive Content, GN!Reader, reader has hair long enough to put a hairtie in, established relationship
A/N: first DC post! I might take another break from writing, I'm not usually superstitious but every time I post something something crazy bad happens in my life so. if another thing happens imma be sus
64.media.tumblr.com
Hellblazer/John Constantine
John's posture relaxes almost immediatley as you walk up to him, an easy smile and the open invitation to join his smoke session by holding out his box of cigarettes. His blue eyes are quick to widen as you drop down to your knees though, shoving the box quickly into one of his trenchcoats various pockets as his other hand goes to rest on his belt buckle- pulling the metal loose and easing his stance. When he catches you reaching not for the zipper on his trousers but for the beat up silver Zippo on the floor, John groans and slumps against the wall, casting a crestfallen pout your way at the sweet sound of your laughter, he'll keep a warm hand on your cheek as you look up at him though, it's always a nice sight to have you looking up at him between his thighs.
Booster Gold/Michael Jon Carter
Booster is busy talking about some sort of issue regarding trademarks only to be interrupted by you standing directly in front of him. He watches you go down with a breathy laugh as he closes his eyes and reaches out to pull your face closer to him only to hear your scuffling and feel your shoulder meet his hand as you rise back up- immediately stands ram-rod straight and balks. You can't do that! Booster holds onto your arm and practically drapes himself over your side in order to nuzzle into your neck. At least make it up to him now! Such a cruel prank and he didn't even do anything to warrant it. Luckily at this point you could really suggest anything to make him "earn" a blowjob, which is how it comes to him in between your legs instead.
Blue Beetle/Ted Kord
Teddy is relieved to see you, spreading his legs for you to stand between to reach his face for a kiss, and is equally happy to receive whatever it is you have planned instead. Watching as you kneel down on the carpet of his Kord Industries office, brush your hands back and gather your hair... and grab a hairtie from his suit pocket before standing back up. His hands are frozen in mid air, still waiting to pull you in for a kiss and he looks up at you tying your hair with a dumbfounded expression. Ted quickly clears his surprise with a few blinks, and pulls you onto his lap while laughing at himself for being so optimistic. He rubs up and down your back while planning a little prank back at you, ideally one where you'd be keeping him company at work for a long... long time.
Green Lantern/Kyle Rayner
Kyle smiles as soon as he sees you, which takes a little due to him being so wrapped up in his sketching, walking closer to you until you slide a hand onto his hip and lean down, cheek pressing against his pelvis. He grabs onto your shoulder, steadying you as he frantically looks between the delicious sight of you before him and the cracked open door to his room. Coughs into his fist when you stand back up, handing him the pencil he'd knocked over when he went to meet you- face flushed beyond belief as he thanks you. His bashfulness doesn't disappear as he tosses the stick of wood onto his desk while you giggle, and instead slips his hands over your waist, pushing you over to his bed and kissing down your legs, whispering promises to follow through with what you so cruelly didn't
Green Lantern/Guy Gardner
Guy begins to loosen his belt as soon as you approach even, but as you drop down in front of him he's immediately confused about the lack of contact between your lips and his jean-clad thigh, shifting to look down only to see you redoing the laces of his boot. Shockingly or not, is still happy to see you like that as well, shifts the hard leather in between your legs and pets your hair back from your face when you confusedly look up, rubbing his thumb along the inside of your mouth. A sharp grin and flushed face lets you know he absolutely wants you to finish what you started.
pairings | michael carter, hal jordan, wally west, dick grayson x fem! reader
summary | "do you ever wish you were athletic?"
MICHAEL CARTER
"Hey, babe," you try to keep your voice level, skeets hovering over your shoulder to catch your boyfriend's inevitable meltdown. The way he instantly perked up like an excited puppy was adorable, and it was almost enough to make you feel a little bad, almost. You still hadn't forgiven him for putting your favourite top in the dryer, ruining it.
"Do you ever wish you were athletic?" You see the exact moment your words register, his smile dropping into confusion as he mouths the question to himself, then disbelieving outrage.
"Do I— A, wha? Huh?" He sputters, "I'm a famous footballer! I'm like the most athletic man you've ever met!"
You give him a look of faux sympathy, trying desperately hard not to start laughing, "Not in the present, you're not. Besides, it's been a few years... You trailed off, "I mean, I don't even think I've ever even seen you run."
"I can run! I can run right now!" His voice had risen several octaves as he stood from the couch, as if determined to prove himself then and there.
Your sudden hysterical laughter only seems to fuel his indignation.
HAL JORDAN
"Do you ever wish you were athletic?" It's hard to hold back the giggle already building at the question, doubly so when you watch Hal freeze, crash and buffer like Internet Explorer in real time.
Slowly, he placed down the beer he'd been drinking, turning to face you with something akin to bewildered betrayal painting his features.
"What?" He blinks, as if he hadn't quite heard you the first time.
"Do you ever wish you were athletic?"
"Yeah, see that's what I thought you said, but what do you mean by that? Where's this coming from?" He was getting more animated now, and it was getting increasingly difficult to keep your composure.
"I don't know," you shrugged, "I was just curious, I guess, like, what sport would you play—if you were athletic?"
"Stop saying that!" He burst, pointing a finger at you like he was scolding a child. "If I were athletic." He grumbled under his breath, glaring at you petulantly before he moved, lunging for you and lifting you into his arms with a mean smirk as he started toward the bedroom.
"Oh, I'll show you how athletic I am."
WALLY WEST
Karen had been the one to show you the trend, and though you wouldn't be able to post Wally's reaction online you'd been thinking about it for hours.
He'd been about to greet you with a kiss, your sweet, unsuspecting boyfriend when the question slipped. "Do you ever wish you were athletic?"
Wally paused, lips just shy of touching yours, before he was reeling back with a furrowed brow and a blunt, "What the fuck?"
Beside you, Donna's already wheezing faintly, and before anyone can speak, Wally's off like a rocket. "I'm athletic! I'm plenty athletic! I'm the fastest man alive, I'm like by definition one of the most athletic men on the planet!"
"No," you rolled your eyes condescendingly, "you have powers that let you run fast, that's not you being athletic."
"Yes, it is! I'm literally athletic!" He was malfunctioning before your very eyes, skin flushing as red as his hair as he practically vibrated in place.
You manage to hold it together enough to get one more jab in, eyes trailing over to his best friend, "Dick's athletic, you're just—"
"No! You're done! You're done!" Wally screeched, moving to stand between you and Dick like a protective barrier as his arms flailed. It was the last thing you saw before tears of laughter pooled in your eyes, streaming down your cheeks as you laughed so hard it hurt.
DICK GRAYSON
"Hey, baby." Dick greeted, kissing you on the forehead upon entering your shared apartment, eyes flickering over in surprise at seeing Jason seated on the couch across from you. "What are you guys up to?"
"Not much," you shrugged, feigning a look of innocence, "we were just wondering, like, if you were athletic, what sport would you play?"
Jason barely manages to conceal his snort with a cough, as Dick stares blankly through you with a grin still pasted on his face.
"If I were athletic?" He blinks.
"Yeah, like if you were athletic, what sport would you play?" You repeated curiously.
"See, you keep saying those words, 'if I were athletic,' and I'm not sure what you mean by that. Like I'm not out there every night, running around, saving people."
"Yeah, but it's not like you play any sports."
"I'm a gymnast!" He screeched before coughing, composing himself when he heard Jason laugh, "I'm a gymnast, how is that not athletic?"
The look he gave you was smug, as if arguing with you to refute the facts, too bad for him, you weren't about to accept something as meaningless as logic.
"Look, I'll do a backflip right now!"
That's enough to send you and Jason into a howling fit of laughter, smacking each other as you gasp for air whilst Dick looks on in betrayal.
I get wet at the thought of you (Being a responsible guy).2
ft.Misc.Marvel
-> Included: The Human Torch, Deadpool, Beast, Moon Knight(all 3), The Invisible Woman, She-Hulk, Shuri, Typhoid Mary
Content Warnings: Suggestive content, implied AFAB!reader (from the "get wet"), killing in Mary's segment, Mary kinda makes fun of reader but its also just how she talks so...
A/N: Part 2! Some characters included were requested, others are writers pick! An additional, I write based off of comics 90% of the time, I understand Shuri is young in the MCU but that's NOT what my writing is based on, she's like 25 to my knowledge
A little initiative can go a very long, long way -Johnny Storm, Marc Spector, Shuri Aja Adanna, Typhoid Mary
Johnny didn't like waiting or playing hard to get, aside from some playful teasing he was all yours, and after a long day of work when Johnnys warm arms wrap around you readily and he begins talking about how he's already booked a hotel to whisk you away at some sunny beach. The hot muscle and sweet face of your favorite man, always ready to drop whatever and take care of you, made your mouth water... you realize you've been caught when Johnnys devilish smirk widens and his hands start wandering
Marc isn't good at communicating thoroughly, or frequently, though the latter is rarely his fault. What he is good at, is doing whatever you might need at any time- he'll haul your groceries out of your car before you manage to turn the engine all the way off, or refill your favorite products when they're about to run out; he operates like some silent house fairy, and when you run a finger down his chest thanking him for taking care of you, he's quick to do whatever you need yet again.
Shuri predicts everything that will happen before it does, to the point that sometimes it's a little unsettling, she is also generous to a fault- your princess will take care of everything- date nights are incredible, with her showing off a new creation that will improve your sleep or relaxation, or your... mutual relaxation. Theres never any need to want something, its all taken care of, but thats impossible with the fluttering that still arises when she turns to you with a sly smile and a kiss to your neck before running off to her lab
Mary... has some problems. There is very little "sharing", and more so taking. But when she's broken out of her bloodlust or orders from Kingpin, the firey woman enjoys watching you react to her displays of romance- she ends up going out of her way to eliminate any poisons from your life, still following her justice killer code... kinda. If they hurt you, theyre bound to hurt again, and her stupid sappy lover would have no chance. But when life is so easy after it, the guilty squirming quiets as you come home more rested than ever, and if you have the extra energy to spend you might as well thank your sweet girl for helping.
A little communication, yes, that's my ideal foreplay-Hank McCoy, Steven Grant, Sue Storm
Hank is the only person with a PhD in communication, not communcations, but his endless talking leaves no room for misunderstandings. He wants to know everything that happens in your life- what you love, what you've begun to hate, why you felt sad at breakfast even though it didn't make sense... Hank is there for it all, and while he may not be able to science all your problems away, his endless understanding and personal care is a cure for any ailment, with no intimacy missed.
Steven communicates, because that's all he really has. After any argument (that he will try to avoid in the first place), Steven is quick to sit behind you and whisper his point of view, trailing off a few times or going on a tangent about how he does see your point he just... he doesn't not agree, but his desperate explaining is so impossibly endearing. He wants to make sure that despite everything you two are okay, that you didn't think he was mad at you, just the situation, the cute flush to his nose and ears making his point even clearer. But the flush covering his entire face later when you'd fully made up is so much better.
Sue loves having someone else mature in the... not a hellhole, but the difficult combination that resides within the Baxter Building. When tension between everyone is bubbling up and you come storming (ha, get it?) to her, she loves to lay you down and talk through everything. Ever so delicately reframing the argument, but she never says she thinks it's stupid, after all you're talking things out before acting, and taking in advice. Her soft hands rubbing across your arms and neck get to you, and Sue is more than happy to redirect any tension into a much more enjoyable evening before you have to go fix whatever mess everyone has gotten into.
Remembering how to use your phone gets me oh, so (oh, so), oh, so hot- Wade Wilson, Jake Lockley, Jennifer Walters
Wade texts very often, or not at all. It's moreso based on whether he actually has a phone at the moment, because despite his near invulnerability, his phonecase does not match. When he can though, Wade is a very attentive lover and texter, sending things throughout the day that remind him of you- making a few lewd comments about how he just cant wait to be home and see you, after sending a picture of some of the peaches you asked him to pick up on the way home.
Jake is incredibly busy, and in a dangerous position for... not majority, but a decent bit of his day. Despite that, his little messages pop in throughout the evening; "Late for dinner", "Out a bit more, love you", "Sleep before me"... you might not have him physically by your side but Jake makes damn sure you know he would be if he could, never missing a moment to dissapear from the action to let you know he's okay through little concise check ins.
Jennifer literally does legal work for some of the most sued organizations in the world, the Avengers crush enough cars to buy a flat in New York with the reimbursement they send out, yet she would absolutely talk to you as much as she can, calling on her lunch break (someone broke the wall of the courtroom) to ask how you were so far today, and sending sweet texts when she wakes up before you about how cute you were. Occasionally when the day drags on and on, one of her many texts will pop up with a voice note you most certainly can't open in public
I love ur work!! I write stuff for Gambit so could I ask if you could write a jealous Gambit would love to see ur take on it. You can add others to it if you want but I’m thinking gambit jealous over ur ex or something like that. Or even just a gambit reacting to ur ex. Fem reader if possible. Your writing is great <3
Jealousy, Jealousy...
Ft: Misc Marvel Men, GN reader + GN ex
-> Included: Gambit, Nightcrawler, The Human Torch, Deadpool
Content Warnings: General jealousy/feelings of insecurity, ex partner not a terrible person, religion in Kurt’s
A/N: LOLLL SORRY FOR THE HIATUS, I had to become a legal guardian for someone and its been cray-cray but I'm a New Yorker now so if any radioactive animals wanna bite me... (˵ ¬ᴗ¬˵)
Also I'm getting rid of my rating system because I really couldn't tell when to mark it PG or PG-13 so if its NSFW I'll put a warning otherwise the content warnings can "rate it"
Gambit/Remy LeBeau
Remy LeBeau had met plenty of former lovers.
Occupational hazard.
Sometimes they threw drinks.
Sometimes they threw knives.
Once, memorably, someone threw a live lobster.
So when you told him your ex would be joining a mutual friend's cookout, he'd simply flashed that easy grin.
"Cher, if dey survived dat relationship, den we already got somethin' in common."
You'd laughed.
He'd meant it. Mostly.
The trouble started before your ex even arrived.
"Oh!" Rogue said as she spotted someone crossing the yard. "There they are."
Remy looked up.
Effortlessly put together, a dimpled kind of smile that made strangers smile back.
Within thirty seconds they'd shaken everyone's hand, complimented Ororo's lemonade, helped a neighbor carry folding chairs, and somehow gotten the ever gruff Logan talking about motorcycles.
"...Well," Remy muttered.
"What?"
"Dey got charm."
You nudged him. "So do you, my charming Cajun."
"Mm." His smile remained, ever suave and beautiful,it just didn't quite reach his eyes anymore.
He noticed something else, too- people kept gravitating toward them, they weren’t loud or demanding some sort of attention as a newcomer but it just… kept happening.
Every conversation seemed to open naturally around them.
Remy had spent years cultivating that sort of magnetism, a literal survival tactic and to see someone wear it so effortlessly made something unpleasant twist in his stomach.
Lunch was served buffet style.
You loaded your plate before wandering over to where your ex was already standing.
"Mind if I steal one?"
You didn't wait for an answer.
You reached over.
Plucked a roasted potato right off their plate.
"Pfft."
They rolled their eyes.
"I hadn't even tasted it yet."
"You've got two more."
"Thief, you attract your own I guess"
"Guilty as charged."
The exchange lasted all of ten seconds.
Neither of you thought anything of it.
Remy did.
His fork paused halfway to his mouth. He hated that thought. More than that, he hated that he'd had it at all.
By late afternoon, everyone had migrated toward the firepit, passing around marshmallows and metal skewers.
You wandered off toward the cooler.
Your ex followed a minute later.
Remy watched without meaning to, he told himself he wasn't watching, he was keeping an eye on what's his, that’s fair.
Then he realized he'd stopped listening to whatever Scott was saying.
"...Remy?"
"Hm?"
Scott gestured vaguely.
"I asked if you wanted another drink."
"Oh."
Remy blinked.
"Sure."
Scott glanced toward the cooler before looking back at him.
"...You okay?"
A lazy grin spread across Remy's face automatically.
"Toujours." Always.
Scott looked unconvinced, but was quickly distracted by you returning a few seconds later carrying two sodas.
"Here."
You handed one to Remy.
"Merci, chère."
Your ex sat across the fire.
Conversation resumed.
The moment passed.
Except it hadn't, as the sun dipped lower, someone suggested going out for dinner instead of grilling dessert.
"Oh!" you said. "There's that little seafood place by the marina."
Your ex smiled instantly.
"They still make that ridiculous bread pudding?"
"I hope so."
"I used to have to stop you from ordering two, god the smell makes me nauseous it’s so weird”
The two of you laughed, and as always when you were happy Remy smiled. But he was slowly stirring the melting ice in his drink. He didn’t have an appetite.
Dinner wasn't awkward, your ex laughed at Remy's stories, whistled at his card tricks, bought him another round of drinks
"Dey always like dis?" Remy asked quietly after your ex wandered off to pay for appetizers.
You looked over.
"Pretty much."
"Huh."
"They're a good person."
"Remy can see dat."
He rubbed the back of his neck.
"...Dat's de problem."
The drive home was quieter than usual.
Silence broken by the occasional quip and Remy drumming his fingers across the steering wheel, streetlights swept across the windshield in warm intervals.
You reached over and rested your hand on his thigh.
"You've been awfully quiet."
Remy hummed.
"Remy been talkin'."
"You've been making jokes."
"...Dat’s talkin."
"And?"
He exhaled through his nose.
"You really wanna know?"
"I really do."
For a long moment, only the tires filled the silence.
Finally "I ain' jealous often."
You looked at him.
"But when I am..." A small laugh escaped him "...Mon Dieu, I hate it."
You waited, he wasn't done.
"I keep tellin' myself it don't matter.It don' matter dat dey know where ya like t'eat.It don' matter dat ya can take food off each odda's plates.It don' matter dat everybody smile when dey see y'all togetha." His grip tightened slightly on the steering wheel. "But den I start wonderin'."
His voice softened.
"If I walk in a room wit' you twenty years from now...will we move dat easy?"
The question broke your heart a little, and when you pulled into the driveway, neither of you got out, the only movement was when you turned in your seat instead.
"Remy."
He looked over.
"I need you to listen."
He nodded.
"My ex knows who I was."
"They know old me.They know me before my world changed, mutant life and other things.” You smiled.
"But you?"
You reached over, taking his hand.
"You know me after I learned who I wanted to become."
His thumb brushed over your knuckles.
"You know the version of me that falls asleep against your shoulder during movies."
"The one who steals your trench coat, the one who learned how to shuffle cards because you kept insisting it wasn't that hard, the parts of me that have been wonderfully changed because of you and everything that’s happened with you"
A reluctant smile tugged at his lips.
"...You still cheat at shufflin."
"I absolutely do."
"You terrible at hidin' de extra cards."
"I like winning, I’d never win against you otherwise."
He laughed quietly.
"There you are."
You squeezed his hand.
"And twenty years from now?" You leaned over the center console to kiss his cheek. “I fully intend to keep stealing food off your plate."
He raised an eyebrow.
"Only my plate?"
"Well..."
You pretended to think.
"I guess I could steal from someone else."
Remy's hand caught yours before you could pull away.
"Non." His grin finally reached his eyes again. "Dat job belong t'me now."
You laughed.
"So possessive."
"Nah."
He brought your knuckles to his lips.
"Jes' practical."
You rolled your eyes affectionately.
"Practical."
"Mm-hmm."
"You know if you wanted I can order my own food."
"An' where de romance in dat?"
The words were light and teasing, unmistakably Remy.
But when he reached across the console to pull you into a lingering kiss, there was something else tucked beneath it, quiet relief that whatever memories had come before, you were still choosing to make new ones with him, and he intended to make enough of them that one day, someone else might smile at the mention of your favorite restaurant, only to realize they'd never heard of it.
Because it would be a place that belonged only to the two of you.
Nightcrawler/Kurt Wagner
Kurt told himself he was imagining things, it was so much easier that way. Easier to not focus on the immediate joking and the fact that your guard was lowered immediately. Your ex had only been invited because you shared the same friend group. It wasn't strange. Adults remained friends with former partners all the time. Kurt knew that. He'd even admired the maturity of it when you'd explained it months ago.
"It just... wasn't meant to be," you'd said with a shrug. "That doesn't mean I stopped caring about them as a person."
He'd smiled and agreed, it was a beautiful thing- to love even when having to reconcile a lost future.
Now, sitting beside you on some old friend's apartment balcony while everyone traded stories over drinks, he wished his heart believed what his head already knew.
"...And they didn’t eat apple pie if it hadn’t been chilled"
Your head snapped toward your ex.
"You remembered that?"
They grinned. "You made a huge fuss over it, somethin’ crazy about fruit not being hot"
You laughed, shaking your head. "I was eight!"
Kurt chuckled with everyone else, but his smile faltered for the briefest moment.
He hadn't known that.
It was such a tiny thing. Almost laughably insignificant. Or well it wasn't actually that small, a large number of foods contained warm fruits. Did tomatoes also fall into your peculiar pickiness?
It was so impossibly intimate.
As everyone stood to move inside, your ex paused beside you.
"Oh."
Their fingers brushed your shoulder.
"There."
They plucked a piece of white lint from your top.
You didn't even glance up from your conversation with Kurt, watching as his yellow eyes slid from your face to your shoulder, up your ex’s hand to stare into their eyes. A shocked sort of assessing hidden thankfully from his lack of visible pupils.
"Thanks."
"No problem."
The exchange lasted all of two seconds. Less, probably.
Kurt stared at the empty space between you after they'd walked away.
There had been no hesitation, or awkwardness over touching still. When Kurt himself questioned doing anything before explicit permission. Something you said you liked and found charming. But the unconscious familiarity of someone who had done it a hundred times before wasn't something he’d gotten to yet.
He immediately hated himself for noticing, folding his three-fingered hands tighter around yours anyway.
Later, someone started telling old college stories.
Your ex interrupted.
"Wait, wait—tell Kurt about the choir christmas animals."
"Oh, absolutely not."
"You slept on a sheep!"
"I was a kid! Also it was a lamb, get it right"
"You insisted the sheep looked lonely."
"They did! They so did! It wasn't some insane observation, like imagine minding your business and some dude picks you up to show a bunch of singing kids the birth of a cardboard cutout of Jesus"
You had to pause between words before you'd even finished speaking, laughing too hard to keep a straight line on your story.
Not your usual laugh, your eyes watered, and you were coughing on your drink halfway through, and Kurt leaned in to rub your back and soothe you but not before noticing your ex sat forward from their spot to do the same thing.
Halfway through the story, you snorted so unexpectedly you buried your face in your hands.
The entire room erupted.
"So embarrassing," you groaned between giggles.
Kurt laughed too.
God, you looked beautiful.
He realized, with a hollow feeling in his chest, that he'd never heard that loose laugh before, the snorting or how you had clutched on to his arm like your life depended on it.
How many stories had happened before he'd ever met you?
How many versions of you existed only in someone else's memory? Specifically the someone else staring at you from across the couch ready to rub your back and soothe your laughter.
Eventually everyone gathered their things to leave, one of your friends almost tripped over herself to call after you.
"You know..."
She looked between you and your ex.
"I honestly didn't think anyone could replace them."
The room went quiet for half a heartbeat.
Then the friend laughed.
"I meant, until Kurt came along! It's good he’s here, sorry Kurt."
A few people chuckled, and you sighed before giving her a look.
Kurt laughed because everyone else was laughing.
Someone thankfully changed the subject, rides and who was carpooling with who, the conversation moved on as you and Kurt left together arm in arm but the words lodged behind his ribs.
Didn't think anyone could replace them.
He wasn't a replacement… he was better for you all around. You’d lamented about how perfect he was while early in your dating.
The mansion was unusually quiet when you returned, most of the lights had already been switched off due to the late time. There might've been a few night owls within the mansion but since it was the school year they were decidedly quiet in order to protect the sleep of the students.
You said a temporary good-bye in order to shower, as much as you loved sharing the bed with Kurt you did also love a long comforting shower, which was not possible with someone waiting to take their turn.
You found Kurt sitting on the windowsill in his room, watching rain tap softly against the glass.
"There you are," you said, slipping off your shoes. "I've been looking everywhere."
He turned with his familiar warm smile.
"There is not much to look at, sternchen."
You crossed the room until you were standing between his knees, and he rested his hands lightly against your waist.
Something was off, he didn't lean his head onto your torso or crane his neck up to smile while staring into your eyes, he looked somewhere past you, shoulders slumped in something more than tiredness.
"You've been quiet."
"I have?"
"...Yes, it's ok if you just want to be quiet but I was worried."
His eyes dropped.
"...I am sorry."
Your brow furrowed.
"Why?"
He hesitated so long you thought he'd changed his mind.
Finally, he spoke so softly you almost missed it.
"How long…," he swallowed "...How long were you together?"
You blinked.
"Together? With my ex?"
He nodded once, the slight tremble in his hands matching his shaking voice. You watched as he opened his mouth then turned away, biting his lip like he hated that he'd asked at all.
"About a year," you answered honestly.
Kurt absorbed that in silence.
"I see."
You reached up, gently tilting his chin until he looked at you again.
"Kurt."
His golden eyes met yours.
"Is that what's been bothering you?"
"I should not be jealous."
His eyes dipped, embarrassed.
"They are kind. They have done nothing wrong, I know. And neither have you."
He let out a small, frustrated laugh.
"I know all of these things, but..."
He searched for words.
"... they speak to you, and I realize there are whole chapters of your life I will never know because... because I was not there."
His voice barely rose above a whisper.
"And I wonder,” his voice broke, no sound coming out as he tried to speak, before he withdrew his hands and coughed, ducking his head further into his arms.
“I wonder how much of you belongs to a past I can never share."
The fragile confession hung between you, the silence only broken as you shuffled forward and knelt closer until your forehead rested against his.
"No part of me belongs to the past."
His breath caught.
"It made me who I am." you took one of his hands, brushing your thumb against the velveteen fur "But the person standing here..." you laced your fingers with his "... this is the one making new memories, learning new peculiarities, finding new reasons to laugh."
You squeezed gently.
"This version belongs with you."
Kurt closed his eyes.
"...If I never know the old stories?"
You smiled.
"I'll tell them to you, whatever you want to know, and more. A lot more. And someday..." you brushed a kiss against the bridge of his nose. "...you'll know stories no one else does."
His shoulders finally relaxed, the smile that returned was small and wobbly, but showing off his cute fangs, and highlighting his golden eyes, still watery around the edges.
"...I think," he murmured, "I would like that very much."
"You'd better."
You bumped your nose against his.
"Because you're stuck with me."
A quiet laugh escaped him, as he locked his arms under yours and pulled you into bed.
The Human Torch/Johnny Storm
Johnny had expected to hate your ex.
Actually, scratch that.
He'd expected your ex to make it easy to hate them.
Maybe they'd be smug. Maybe they'd still flirt with you. Maybe they'd shake his hand just a little too hard and spend the evening reminiscing about all the wonderful years you spent together.
Johnny had prepared for that.
He had not prepared for... this.
"...Seriously?" Ben muttered around a mouthful of burger. "They're, like... weirdly nice."
"Right?" Johnny whispered back.
Across the table, your ex laughed at something Reed had said before turning to Johnny.
"I've gotta say," they grinned, "I've seen your interviews. You're way funnier in person, those journalists gotta up their game, crazy stiff questions."
Johnny blinked.
"...Thanks?"
"And the stunt you pulled in Manhattan last month?" they continued. "That was insane."
"Oh." Johnny rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, well..."
"You saved a lot of people."
"...Yeah."
"...Huh."
They raised their glass.
"To the Human Torch."
Johnny slowly clinked his soda against it.
"...Thanks?"
What was happening? It keeps getting weirder.
Halfway through lunch, you reached for another fry.
Your ex beat you to it.
Without asking, they plucked one straight off your plate.
You didn't even look up.
"Rude," you muttered, continuing your story.
"You weren't eating it."
"I was getting there."
"Too slow."
Johnny stared.
"...Seriously?"
Three pairs of eyes turned toward him.
"What?"
"You just..." He pointed between the two of you. "They just stole your food."
You frowned, "...Yeah?"
"...They've done that for years?”
"Exactly! Oh my gosh I’ve never been able to keep an order entirely to myself like seriously!"
"I don't understand the issue,” Your ex snorted. "I'll buy them more fries if it's a federal offense."
Ben kicked Johnny lightly under the table.
"Dude."
Johnny sank back into his chair, dramatically slumping his shoulders forward and tucking his chin to his neck.
"...Right."
He sounded unconvinced even to himself.
The afternoon drifted into wandering around the city.
Someone suggested grabbing dessert.
"Ooh!" you perked up. "That little place on Twenty-Third."
Your ex smiled immediately.
"Oh, that place's tiramisu is—"
They stopped.
"...Still good?"
You laughed.
"Probably."
Johnny looked between the two of you.
"You've been there."
"A few times," you admitted.
"It was close to our apartment."
Apartment.
Johnny hadn't actually thought about that part before.
You'd lived together.
Of course you had a favorite restaurant, favorite coffee shops… grocery stores… spots in the park.
He didn’t want tiramisu anymore.
"Actually," he interrupted, a little too brightly, "I know this rooftop place that's way cooler."
Ben gave him a look.
"We're standing five minutes away."
"So?"
"So your place is forty blocks from here."
"Dude I don’t think theres forty blocks in the entire city, it’ll be worth it!"
You smiled apologetically.
"Maybe another day? I've really been craving this place."
Johnny opened his mouth.
Closed it again. The bitter taste was lingering on his tongue even before the coffee dessert.
"...Yeah. Whatever you want babe"
He spent the rest of dinner trying way too hard, challenged a waiter to guess everyone's drink order, and he somehow convinced the table to rank the Fantastic Four by cooking ability.
He lit a birthday candle with his finger for a kid three tables over, standing over there as a birthday surprise until four different people laughed until they cried.
He was on fire. Pun intended.
But that was exactly the problem.
"Johnny." Sue's voice cut through another story he'd started telling.
He looked over. "What?"
She smiled patiently.
"You can relax."
"...I am relaxed."
"You've been up for an hour, sit down."
"I literally run around all day for a living."
"This isn’t what you’re doing for a living though, it’s a nice dinner. With nice company.”
Even Reed looked up from the menu.
"Your vocal volume has increased approximately twenty-three percent."
Johnny groaned.
"Oh, come on. There is no way you know that”
Your ex chuckled.
"They're right."
"Not you too."
"You don't have to impress anybody."
Johnny laughed.
"Who says I'm trying to impress anybody?"
The table went silent.
Every single person looked at him.
"...Um okay."
The night ended outside the restaurant.
Your ex hugged everyone goodbye.
When they got to Johnny, they held out a hand instead.
"It was good meeting you."
Johnny shook it.
"...You too."
They smiled.
"Take care of them."
Johnny nodded.
"I will."
"I know."
Simple.
Sincere.
Then they walked away.
Johnny watched until they disappeared around the corner.
Finally, he turned to you.
"...What the actual fuck?"
You laughed.
"What?"
"They're..."
He gestured vaguely in the direction they'd gone.
"...Normal."
"...Yeah?"
"They're supposed to be terrible."
"They're really not."
"They liked me."
“That’s very easy to do."
"They laughed at my jokes."
"They're good jokes."
"They offered to buy me another drink!"
You crossed your arms, smile breaking out across your face, clearly enjoying this far too much.
"So your complaint is...?"
Johnny threw both hands into the air.
"I don't know!"
He laughed helplessly.
"I was ready to hate them."
"And?"
"They made it impossible."
You slipped your hand into his.
"You know why we broke up?"
Johnny glanced over.
"Why?"
"We loved each other."
His eyebrows shot up.
"...That's not helping."
"But we wanted different lives."
You squeezed his hand.
"We were better as friends than partners."
Johnny looked down at your intertwined fingers.
"So..."
"So."
"They're not secretly trying to steal you back?"
"No."
"They don't still love you?"
"They love me."
"What?"
"But they aren't in love with me."
Johnny was quiet for a moment.
Then, almost sheepishly, he admitted,
"...I spent half of dinner wondering if every place we walked past was somewhere you'd kissed."
Your expression softened.
"Oh, Johnny."
"I know,I know, it's dumb."
"It isn't dumb."
"It kinda is."
You stopped walking, gently tugging him to a halt.
"You know what my favorite restaurant is now?"
He shrugged. Eyes looking somewhere past you, decidedly not making contact with yours.
"The one where you accidentally set the dessert menu on fire."
Johnny grinned despite himself. "Okay that wasn't my fault, open candle next to paper menus was a genius idea I'm sure."
"The owner very much disagreed."
"He was obviously biased."
"And my favorite vacation?"
"The beach?"
"The one where you convinced me seashells could explode."
"They can if you heat them enough."
"My point is,” you stepped closer “you keep worrying about places I used to go,” You rested a hand against his chest, drumming your fingers against the muscle “…but somehow every place we go together becomes my new favorite."
Johnny's grin softened into something quieter, "So..."
"I'm making new memories."
Johnny paused, "With me."
"With you."
He leaned down to steal a quick kiss.
"...Okay."
"What?"
"I still think the love thing is weird."
You laughed.
"I'll let you steal a fry next time."
"Oh?"
"One."
Johnny gasped dramatically.
"Only one?"
"You negotiate like that and I'm taking them all back."
"Now that's my baby. Dating me…me. Yeah I like that."
He slipped an arm around your shoulders as the two of you headed home, already talking over each other about where to get breakfast the next morning.
Deadpool/Wade Wilson
Wade had spent the entire drive over rehearsing for this.
Step one: Be charming.
Step two: If that fails, be funny.
Step three: If that fails, fake your own death.
He'd gotten as far as Step One before the front door opened.
Your ex smiled warmly.
"You must be Wade."
"Depends."
They blinked.
"On?"
"If you're here to collect unpaid parking tickets? No?"
A laugh, genuine and rea.
"Come on in."
...Well. That wasn't supposed to happen.
The evening started surprisingly well. Too well. Your ex wasn't awkward, wasn't territorial, didn't give Wade the once-over or stare at his scarred face.
Didn't ask passive-aggressive questions about his career, his life choices, or the fact that he occasionally got shot for money.
Instead
"I've heard a lot about you." Wade pointed accusingly at you. "You've been talking smack."
"Mostly good things," your ex assured him.
"Mostly?"
"They did mention you tried to make pancakes with a flamethrower."
"...Technically successful."
"They were charcoal." You said, with an exasperated smile.
"They were still pancakes, matter cannot be destroyed."
Your ex laughed so hard they nearly spilled their drink.
Wade frowned. God why were they making this difficult?
Halfway through dinner, someone wandered over from another table.
"Oh!"
He looked between you and your ex.
"I didn't realize you two were hanging out again."
You smiled politely.
"We're just friends."
The stranger looked at Wade.
"...Wait...Oh." Their face lit up with understanding."I honestly thought you two would end up back together someday."
Silence, just for a second. Then he laughed awkwardly.
"But obviously life happens!"
"Yes, very obviously," you echoed.
The conversation drifted elsewhere.
Wade made a joke.
Everyone laughed.
The stranger apologized and eventually left.
No one seemed bothered.
Except Wade.
He compensated. Overly.
"So anyway," he announced far too loudly, "did I ever tell you about the time I accidentally fought Dracula?"
"You've told me three times," you said, "each version gets more dramatic."
"Art evolves, my love!"
Five minutes later he was balancing three breadsticks across his upper lip.
Ten minutes after that he somehow had the waiter judging an imaginary cooking competition between him and Captain America.
By dessert he had half the restaurant watching him attempt card tricks.
One child applauded. Another asked if he worked there.
You buried your face in your hands.
Outside, you bumped his shoulder.
"...You okay?"
"I'm fantastic."
"You challenged a twelve-year-old to an arm wrestling contest."
"He started it."
"He asked if you knew magic."
"I do know magic."
"You pulled a spoon out of your sleeve."
"That spoon wasn't there before, I'm not entirely sure how I did it myself, but a magician never shares secrets."
You stopped walking.
"Wade."
He sighed dramatically. "...Fine. You wanna know what happened?"
"I'd like that."
He shoved his hands into his pockets.
"I got weird."
"I noticed."
"You know that thing where your brain decides to ruin your own evening?"
"...Mm-hmm."
"Mine rented a billboard of every possible thing that could go wrong complete with little red strings and conspiracy theories."
You reached the park before either of you spoke again.
Finally, Wade broke the silence.
"They're..." he searched for the word "...Better."
You frowned, "Better?"
"They're stable."
"Wade—"
"They've got an actual career."
"So do you."
"They sleep normal human hours."
"Sometimes."
"They're..." he laughed once, humorless. "...Their face isn't crazy gnarly, it’s even the good kind of gnarly."
Your chest tightened.
"Wade."
"They're funny."
"You are too."
"They're the kind of person people picture when someone says 'good partner.'" he stared at the sidewalk, scuffing his boot against the concrete. "And then there's me. Prince Charming I know, my jawline could cut glass”
You stepped in front of him before he could keep walking.
"They laughed at every joke you made."
"They were being polite."
"They complimented you."
"They were being polite."
"They thanked you for making me happy."
"...They were..." his voice faltered. "...being polite."
You cupped his face.
"They were telling the truth."
His eyes refused to meet yours.
"That guy looked at you like..." he swallowed. "...Like they couldn't figure out how I happened."
You smiled softly.
"I can."
"Yeah?"
"You walked into my life."
"I literally crashed through your apartment window."
"You paid for the repairs. And you stayed, my Prince Charming”
Wade's shoulders loosened just a little.
"My ex knows me," you continued. "Or, they know who I was."
You brushed your thumb across the scarred skin near his jaw without hesitation.
"But you know who I am now."
He finally looked at you.
"I don't compare you. To anyone- anything. You’re my Wade”
"I know"
"I chose you."
Your voice was steady.
"Not because you're funnier, or more broken, or less broken, or because you beat someone else; I chose you because when I picture the rest of my life..." You smiled. "...you're already in it."
For a long moment, Wade just stared.
Then, quietly—
"...You know..."
"What do I know?"
"I spent the entire dinner convinced you were about to realize you could've done better."
You laughed, not at him, but at how impossible that thought seemed.
"Wade."
"I know."
"No."
You leaned forward until your forehead rested against his.
"You don't."
His breath caught.
"I've already met 'better.'" You kissed him gently "I’m at home with you."
Wade didn’t have his usual quip or joke to break the tension or run from the ticklish feeling behind his eyes, he simply wrapped his arms around you and held on a little tighter than usual.
When he finally spoke, his voice was muffled against your shoulder.
"...I'm still stealing the leftover cheesecake from your fridge."
You smiled into his hair.
"I bought that for you."
"...Oh."
A beat.
"...Can I still pretend I stole it?"
"Of course, you have a reputation to uphold."
"There they are," he murmured, his grin returning. "My questionable life choices."
You rolled your eyes fondly, lacing your fingers with his as you started walking again.
The billboard in his head was finally dark. The only voice left was yours(and the narrator), and it was enough.
hii!! Would you ever write a Jean grey x fem!reader fic? We are lacking Jean x fem reader fics that don’t involve Scott and it’s like a drought😭🙏 I’m fine with smut or fluff though I do also love domestic Jean!🥹❤️🩹
Fan Favorites (wc:4k)
-> Ft: Jean Grey
Content Warnings: A bit of will they wont they, kinda shitty NSFW at the end, Cis!AFAB reader, Jean w/ bush
A/N: OH WOULD I. ABSOLUTELY. Smth smth is the room hot because of the phoenix force or is it just Jean
this probably has some minor spelling errors, normally i'd put it in Google docs and let the red lines lead me but they're feeding shit into AI so. naur. (also why it took me so long to write this, I redid it so it wouldnt be fodder for genai, thanks Google)
The first clue to everyone's theory wasn’t obvious, you'd like to think it wasn't obvious at least. No one caught you and Jean kissing in a hallway, or holding hands under a table. There was no telepathic slip-up where Jean broadcast her thoughts to the entire mansion, thank goodness, it had been a paranoia of hers since starting to communicate less... public thoughts.
It started with the way Jean said your name, the way she talked to you with the softest tone anyone has ever heard- you were halfway through explaining a botched training simulation in the common room, hands waving wildly with irritation, voice quick and breath uneven when Jean walked in, green boots clicking on the tiled hallway announcing her arrival. Jean stood still in the doorway, not wanting to interrupt, she just leaned against the firm wooden frame, arms loosely crossed against her chest, watching you talk. Following your hands, following your mouth and lips, following the rapid rise and fall of your chest from the rapid breathing through your passionate explanation.
“And then Logan says I should’ve 'anticipated the trajectory', like I don’t already have enough to...” You froze mid-sentence, point forgotten as Jean's emerald eyes locked on to yours, a smile decorating her lips. Her lips, covered in a satiny lipstick, smooth and soft looking and fitting to the beautiful woman before you.
The smile she gave you wasn't a simple polite smile. Not like the one she gave students or colleagues, or the paparazzi in the rare instance the X-men were gaining good public perception. This one was much softer. Private, almost amused, corners of her mouth almost trembling with a held-back laugh, like she knew something about you no one else did. And she did.
“You adjusted your stance too late,” she said gently.
Jean knew all of your secrets, everything about you. She knew you better than you knew yourself. Your friend, your confidant, the woman who had linked her mind to yours to absorb all your pain and to heal your wounds, the woman who had appeared in a fiery glory before you to protect you. Your knight, your Phoenix, but not your Jean.
“I adjusted it exactly when I needed to, given the... parameters of the simulation. The ones I was informed of,” you huffed, quickly glancing up to make sure she wasn't upset with your attitude. She was right about it, you just didn't want to be told by a short Canadian that everything you're doing is wrong, it sounds so much better off her lips.
Jean didn't seem to take it to heart, her eyebrow lifted, playfully. “Mmm. Is that what we're blaming?” suave and lilting voice drawing you in.
There was always a line, Jean was not yours. She was your best friend, but she was not yours in the way you were hers.
There was a pause as the back of the room got quiet, the papers shuffling from students studying stopped as dozens of eyes watched your conversation, a few students exchanging glances before going back to their work and poorly hiding their whispers.
You were too focused on the woman in front of you, the silence passed by without notice, but Jean did notice.
The second clue was touch- Jean Grey was not an overly physical person in public. A reassuring and warm hand on the shoulder? Sure. A guiding gesture? Of course. She's one of the mansions main advisors, students confessing troubles and worries to get the calming reassurance of "I understand", but as with many things she drew a boundary, a line in the sand. She did not linger. With, what seems to be, one sole exception.
It happened in the kitchen one morning. You were reaching for a mug on the top shelf, guests in the mansion meant late risers had to grab at the harder to reach cups typically reserved for parties, barely stretching high enough, when Jean stepped in behind you.
“Here,” she murmured, voice fuzzy and low.
Her hand slid over yours, steadying your wrist as her other arm wrapped under your butt and she lifted the two of you into the air, shifting your body to be face-to-face.
You couldn't will yourself to pull away- even in the warm late-morning she looked positively radiant, firey hair and lashes framing her captivating eyes, her skin looked soft to the touch, even with the shadow of sleepless nights around her face, small purple veins only visible when you were so close to her.
For a moment your mind wandered, how often would you see this unguarded look if you woke up together, sharing a white pillow and waking with tangled sheets. Would you be able to trace the sun on her cheek to wake her up rather than a blaring alarm clock? Warm tongues mapping each other's mouths in appreciation for each new day? Would you surprise the students, baking together in the early morning to get everyone another treat for the day?
The cool tile now under your feet served a stark contrast to her warm arms still wrapped around your torso, breaking the fantasy you'd been trapped in, holding tight to the remnants before it faded away as she walked deeper into the kitchen to get breakfast, your sight hopelessly following after her before she rounded a corner.
From the dining table, a couple of students froze mid-conversation. The now-familiar sound of stunned silence following Jean's departure.
One of them leaned slightly toward the other. “…Did you see that?”
“See what?”
"…Nothing.”
Your fingers ran across the rim of the mug, chilled ceramic snapping you out of your trance before getting your drink and returning to the main table, but across the room, suspicion took root.
The third clue was absence, specifically yours.
You missed a movie night.
Not a big deal on its own, people had schedules, training, etcetera. Adult responsibilities the younger students were excitedly waiting for and the teens dreaded.
But then Jean missed it too.
And when Ororo asked where either of you were, Kurt hesitated just a second too long before saying, “Probably busy.”
The students didn’t buy it, especially after catching the shit eating grin Kitty gave him just a few seconds after. And definitely not after someone passed by the faculty wing and heard low voices behind Jean’s door. An intimate and hushed conversation.
Muffled laughter, your voice and Jean's acknowledging hums, the warm yellow light pouring through the bottom crack of the door fading and brightening as the two of you moved behind it.
That unknowingly sealed your guys' fate. By the end of the week, it wasn’t a question anymore, there were dedicated theory group chats (which likely existed before, and just gained a new topic of conversation).
A very, very, popular theory.
You noticed something was off when conversations began stopping as you walked into rooms, brushing it off at first as an odd coincidence or maybe you'd stumbled into some betting ring that the students didn't trust you'd keep secret.
Until Jubilee grinned at you, cheeks flushed in excitement, brown eyes smug and knowing, and said, “So. You and Jean, huh?”
You blinked. “What?”
She leaned forward on her elbows, dimples apparent with her wide smile. “How long?”
Your stomach dropped. “It is not obvious. Jubilee” eyebrow raising and forcing a stern expression as students all poorly hid their attention on your conversation. You felt slight panic rise in you realizing the scope of your audience, the eyes flicking from you to their work and back.
“Uh-huh.” She gestured vaguely. “The smoldering looks? The heated touching?
A pathetic crack in your voice burst out at that
"There's been no heated tou-"
"The disappearing at the same time? You’re not exactly subtle.”
“I think I would know if I was dating Jean Grey,” you shot back.
“Would you?” she teased.
You opened your mouth, closed it, gaping like a fish out of water at the unexpected prodding.
“…Yes.”
Jubilee’s expression said she absolutely did not believe you.
You found Jean later in the library.
She was sitting by the window, a book open in her lap, emerald shorts clinging to her thighs and waist, but she wasn’t reading, the book lay neglected as she looked up the moment you stepped in, like she’d felt you coming (Which, to be fair, she probably had.)
“There you are,” she said.
Something in her tone, warm and familiar, made your chest tighten.
You crossed your arms. “We have a problem.”
Her lips twitched. “We do?” Her head tilted slightly, sitting up a little bit at the information. She had no doubt assumed you meant some sort of mission.
“The students think we’re dating.”
Jean blinked, just once before she began to laugh.
She actually laughed, soft and surprised, a hand coming up to cover her mouth, her back slumped into the window again before leaning her head on her shoulder, focused on your embarrassed face.
You stared at her. “You’re enjoying this.”
“A little,” she admitted, cheeks flushed and eyes glinting with amusement while watching your flustered gesturing.
“This is not funny, Jean, it means things"
“They figured it out faster than I expected.”
You narrowed your eyes. “So you knew this would happen?”
Jean tilted her head, considering. “I suspected. 25 teenagers isn't a small tight group to keep a secret”
You stepped closer, lowering your voice. “Jean.”
She met your gaze, her amusement fading as it changed into something apprehensive, gently sitting up and putting her book aside before focusing solely on you. Bright irises boring into your soul, she wouldn't even need her powers to see what you were thinking at this point.
“What?” she asked softly.
You hesitated.
Because here was the thing, they weren’t...wrong, not exactly.
There were late nights that turned into hurried mornings, rushing back to your own room. Long conversations, confessing everything to each other any time you were alone. The way she looked at you like she could see straight through you and the way you could see her thoughts as well as she could everyone else's. The way you gravitated toward her without thinking.
The touches
God, the touches.
You swallowed. “We never… said anything.”
Jean’s expression didn’t change, but something in her eyes sharpened.
“No,” she agreed. Adding nothing to her vague statement.
Silence stretched between you. The uncomfortable sound of your blood rushing beneath your skin, the only thing persisting in the room, outside, students passed by the library doors as usual. The world kept spinning except for in this little bubble of yours.
She stood suddenly, kicking her abandoned book to the carpeted floor of the library before stepping closer until there was barely space between you.
“Does that bother you?” she asked, close enough that you could feel the warmth of every exhale, her body running permanently hot.
Jean's hand lifted slightly, fingers grazing over your skin so close to your heart, goosebumps following in their wake.
Your heart kicked hard against your ribs, she could no doubt feel it with the way her palm settled against your breast.
“That they think we’re dating?”
“That we haven’t said it.”
You searched her face, there was no teasing now, her calm facade being betrayed by the intensity of her expression.
You stuttered out an exhale, eyes flicking between hers and her collarbones, desperate to hide. “…I don’t think I mind what they think.”
Jean’s lips curved, faintly before murmuring out a simple, "Good". Her hand lifted, hesitated for only a fraction of a second, before settling against your neck, thumb grazing your jaw and the corner of your mouth, she could feeling the fluttering of your heart beneath her fingertips as the blood rushed to your head.
Her lines in the sand washed away by waves of emotion long ago it seemed, not subtle or deniable enough. Though you would never deny your feelings for this woman before you.
Not when Jean leaned in, voice soft enough that you weren't sure it existed outside the space between you.
“Then maybe,” she said, “we should stop pretending they’re wrong.”
Your breath caught.
“Jean—”
She kissed you, certain and warm, closed lips pressing against yours, before Jean pulled back just enough to meet your eyes.
There was that smile again. Her real smile, reserved for you.
“Guess it’s public now,” you managed.
Jean’s thumb brushed your cheek, soft and grounding.
“It was always going to be,” she said, forehead pressing against yours, soft red hair tickling at your cheeks before pulling back. A soft whine of protest leaving you unexpectedly, Jean grabbed your hand and led towards the library door, peeking around the corner to see everyone in class.
The walk to her room wasn’t far, but the hazy feeling lingering from her kiss made it feel like a very pleasant eternity, just her warm hand over yours, gently tugging to keep up with her quickening pace.
Jean dragged you through her door, momentarily letting go of your wrist before shutting and locking the wooden slab behind her. She stood there for a moment, hands still planted firmly before turning around
She looked like she wanted to eat you, the heat in her gaze was almost burning as it focused all over your face then body, walking forward to hold your jaw on both sides now.
She leaned in, espresso scented breath warming your slightly parted lips, pausing before pressing up to you again, her lips and jaw moving perfectly against your own, licking against your bottom lip before pushing further into your mouth. Warm and wet, the espresso scent wasn't strong enough to taste but with the desperation you had you were close to finding some part of her tongue that was still stained with the bitter flavor.
The two of you stayed standing, swaying slightly as your hands roamed, coming to clutch the baby hairs at the nape of her neck. The dizzying feeling as you were running out of air but didn't want to part, enjoying even the clumsy bumping of teeth as her warm torso pressed against your body, feeling her fire-hot hands trailing down from your back to cup your ass.
You needed to breathe, the weakening of your knees was too prevalent now and you didn't want to take her down with you, so you tightened your grip just the slightest amount to hear a breathy moan from her.
At the light tug, Jean pulled back, pearly teeth shown in a wide grin, forehead still pressed to yours as she nosed against your cheek, still trailing small embers of kisses from the corner of your mouth to your jaw, chuckling as your ragged breathing failed to even out.
"Jean" the word was hoarse and scratchy in your throat, you couldn't focus on anything. She was everywhere. A small hum of acknowledgement was all you got before a small nip on the side of your neck, chased by a swipe of her tongue and a kiss. Her hands were rubbing from your waist, to your hips, and lower, pulling you closer and closer before the two of you stumbled, your leaning balance betraying you as your back hit her bed.
The top corner of her sheets had come untucked, but her pillows were arranged neatly, and her blankets had been somewhat straightened out.
Jean followed your roaming vision across her bed, and noticing the untidiness set out to distract you by dropping her body on top of your own, a grunt leaving your chest at the impact as she pinned you down.
Her bright green eyes were watching you, head laying on the blankets next to your own, the only sound being the small shifting from her hips as she dug her knees into the mattress. The intensity of her gaze was hard to keep, heat crawling up your face each time you worked up the courage to look at her, before quickly adverting your eyes to some other part of the room.
"Do you... want to stop? We can stop, i'm just happy you're here"
The quiet whisper from her mouth drew you out of your embarrassed daze, attempting to sit up and making it about an inch before you couldn't push up further, falling back on the mattress with Jean's startled scrambling.
"I didn't mean to trap you, you ca-"
"No I want..." you weren't sure how to complete this sentence, nervous acid bubbling in your stomach as you tried to create some sort of explanation.
'You', well yeah but she's right here. 'This'?, ok, knowing Jean she'll tease you until you say it directly. 'To make out with you sloppily and strip you and worship you'?. Again, yes, but there's no way that's the proper phrasing to "proposition" yourself for the first time.
The psychic trailed her nails up your thigh, tugging at the hem of your shirt before pausing.
"Want?" her hot hand planted itself firmly on your lower stomach, the sensation sending jolts of electricity down.
Thankfully her question was simple, you nodded, glad for the reprieve from your overactive mind running a mile-a-minute.
She took two fingers and traced up your abdomen, walking them on your body while chuckling at your whines, her other hand followed suit, first lifting her from her laying position and sitting up, then creeping up your body.
Your side, your ribs, the wire of your bra, warm hands pushing the firm fabric up as your bra joined your shirt pooling against your collarbones.
You weren't wearing a decorative set, your bra was pretty plain, not the most worn-in one you had, thankfully, but her reaction definitely wasn't from what you were wearing.
You heard her suck in a sharp breath before tentatively making eye contact, her eyes boreing into yours as she kneaded the soft skin, reveling in your breathy moans, but the cold air soon replaced where her hands were, a protest dying in your throat as she lifted you up, fiddling with the hooks of your bra for a few moments before it seceded and she hung it on the post of her headboard, letting go of your body to softly land on the bedding once again and watch as your boobs bounced with the movement
"Jean.." a kiss cut you off, before you pushed back slightly and she relented
"Hm?", the melodic hum was becoming more and more common of a response from her, eyes fogged over and glossy, matching the remnants from your mixed spit and her lipstick on her mouth.
Your fingers slid from her knees up, up, up her thighs, playing with the stretchy fabric of her shorts before snapping it against her skin, trailing your fingers just under it on the soft skin
She let out a low moan at your touch, pressing her pelvis down harder onto your lower stomach, swaying slightly as she reoriented her weight onto the bed, her lips came down on yours harder as she wrapped one of her hands around your wrist and dragged it up, sliding your fingers further into the fabric.
Her pale pink v-cut shirt was pulled taut against her cleavage, pressed against your own as she sighed into your mouth, free hand gripping at the sheets above your head, as she kept trying to move impossibly further and further into your arms.
You moved your free hand to push down the waistband of her shorts, reveling in the excited sounds she made, her own hand releasing your wrist and moving to drag your leg on top of one of hers as she kicked off her shorts.
Her underwear was white and simple, but the contrast of her fiery red hair meant you could make out the silhouette through the semi-translucent material, more interesting than that though was the dark damp spot where her arousal had permeated the material.
Jean ground down hard up against your pelvis, the mutual sensation apparent as the soft material of her underwear dragged against your pants caused the both of you to keen into each other's touch, hurriedly dragging the final pieces of clothing off before laying with a thin sheen of sweat on her bed.
Jean's thigh was pinning one of yours down, pressing her clit up against yours, as your free leg locked around her, heel digging into the soft muscle of her butt. Her hands gently trailed up your figure before settling on your shoulders, leaning down to pin her body weight against you again.
Pressing open mouth kisses to your breast before sucking on a hardening nipple, rocking her hips up rhythmically, soft pubic hair tickling your pelvis.
Your eyes were screwed closed at the overwhelming sensation growing in your lower stomach, coiling tighter and tighter as Jean kept grinding, she enjoyed looking down at you, watching your skin shine with sweat and your tits bounce with every rock of her hips as the air grew warmer and heavier, the slicking sounds growing louder as your wetness increased
Her nails trailed up the side of your face, a simple command breaking you out of the haze your mind is in.
“Open.. ngh- please,” her hair was brushing up against your ears, cascading down around her. You couldn't see anything around you except her, except Jean, Your Jean.
The realization hit you suddenly as you began to push up against her more, she was yours now, her soft skin and her naked body a view reserved for your eyes alone. Your breathing quickened, and Jean noticed.
She reached an arm behind her thigh, awkward position straining her shoulder as she used two fingers to rub up and down your folds, never stopping her ministrations against your wet pussy.
Your response is no louder than a small whimper and she can feel you clench around nothing, jutting your hips forward in an effort to catch her hand and feel even just the scratch of her nails against your walls
“You look… so pretty… a little more…” her mouth was watering, every few words interrupted by her need to swallow her spit before she decided the faster way was to just kiss it into your mouth, the wet substance sliding out down the corner of your mouth as you felt the droplet slide between your breasts.
You were getting so much closer now, Jean’s fingers sending little shocks of energy down onto your lower lips, the tightening in your stomach as you dragged your nails down her slender back.
Jean didn't move away when you cummed, sliding your hands up to her chest and pressing your fingers around her nipples as she kept rocking, the wet sounds slowing down as she suddenly tensed up and then relaxed.
She slid off your slick body, sweat and fluid covering both of your thighs as she dropped herself onto the cool duvet, breathing deeply before rolling onto her side to look at you.
The dazed yet loving look you gave her was mirrored in her own eyes, her wet hand coming to hold one of yours as she pressed her lips to your temple, leaving behind the faintest lipstick stain, before you tugged her body closer to yours and buried her face in the crook of your neck.
“We have to take a shower, and pee”, the gentle mumble against your skin sent vibrations through your body.
An indignant whine left your throat as you tightened your grip on her, running the pads of your fingers against the small scratches on her back.
“Later,” you remarked quietly, Jean hummed out a small ‘mkay’ in response, before tugging a throw blanket over the two of you.
Content Warnings: Suggestive content, implied AFAB!reader (from the "get wet")
A/N: I'll do a part two after I finish the Jean Grey ask I got! thinking Deadpool and Human Torch for that one... hmm
Baby, just do the dishes, I'll give you what you, what you want/Considering I have feelings, I'm like, "Why are my clothes still on?":
Scott may have been a busy man but he wasnt under any sort of impression that you'd "pick up" all the housework when the two of you moved in together. As your arms wrapped around his waist he moved to put one hand over yours before remembering he was elbow-deep in suds. Looking over his shoulder to see a love-drunk expression on your face and glazed over eyes. A little insulted that you thought he was that backwards in his thinking and... you were still dating him. He needs to have some sort of conversation about this
Jean loved having with her while doing chores, the domesticity of it warm in her chest, but as you tucked yourself into her side, muttering something about "taking such good care of me". She absolutely doesnt object as you start pressing your face into her neck but she is a bit worried she might've been distant the last few weeks, laying her head on you as she finishes up before
Ororo was fine with doing her part around the household, but she did have a specific distaste for dishes. But with the dishwasher broken and you busy at work, she had started on the dishes from last nights dinner and today's breakfast. She'd gotten into a groove when you got home and saw her doing the thing she dislikes just because you were busy and it had to be done. Ororo prides a bit as you press against her back pressing kisses in thanks. She could get used to this... lets hope maintenence was here tomorrow though.
Anna-Marie huffed and puffed about getting it done but when she finally sauntered over to the sink and started working the look of pure unfiltered attraction from you as you finished cleaning the bookcase was all worth it. She'll make a show out of it too, lifting the plate up slightly so that droplets of water run up her arm as your eyes followed the wet trail. Might try to bargain for a reward (kiss) when she's done.
Remy doesnt shy away from doin what his partner wants, he lives to serve. And if the fastest way to get your hands crawling across his skin is to play house-husband then he is more than willing to comply, he doesnt exactly get how you get hot and bothered from doing the bare minimum but Remy would never turn down an oppurtunity to lavish you in attention (and get some in return)
Assemble a chair from IKEA, I'm like, "AhAhAh"/Offering to do anything, I'm like, "Oh, my god":
Kurt has gotten more handy over the years, keeping his small church in order was a lot of work and outsourcing all the labor just wasnt possible- plus watching your eyes trail over his back and arms while he lifted your new bedframe up the stairs was a pleasure like no other. Shocked that he did it by himself, as he assured you it was his duty as your partner, he doesnt want to ruin the moment though so dont be surprised when he bamfs across the room to receive his payment
Kitty and her endless ability to understand complex (and ridiculous!) instructions was one of the most attractive things about her. Oh her brain was so amazing, it's not your fault her face was in front of it! Which is part of the reason she seems so surprised when she looks up, halfway done fixing your phone to see your eyes glossy and unfocused, flitting across her face and hands. She'll fan her face and tie up her hair for you to have a better view, giggling as you come back to and start praising her.
Logan was buff. He was so, so buff. He knew it, you knew it, and he knew you loved when he showed off- moving your new couch to the other side of the room for the nth time as you keep getting distracted. Muttering out another "no not right" as he laughs and rolls his shoulder, hauling it to another area as you trailed behind, staring at his muscles. At some point he'll forego any sense of 'modesty' and take off his ratty white tank alltogether, enjoying hearing your breath catch in your throat
Warren didn't particularly like this process. He had put something on backwards a bazillion steps ago and was groaning in frustration as he had to redo all his hard work, but oh you loved this process. Watching his face flush in frustration and seeing how he kept doing this one little task for you over and over (accidentally making it harder for himself), he was about to call it quits when he saw your half-lidded eyes and knew there was a very nice end in sight.
Illyana was currently assembling your new dresser drawers, using her body weight to push down on the difficult wood as she secured the screws, as she sat back proudly and turned to you, she was caught off guard when you grabbed her hand and jumped onto the bed.
"that was hot we should make out"
Illyana was not an idiot and she would absolutely be taking you up on that, shoving aside the dresser in her final flaunt of strength before joining you.
btw if any of you ever go “omfg they would not say that” pls send me an ask explaining it!! Theres too many X-men variations to keep up with so I’ll inevitably write something incorrectly
ft. X-MEN
-> X-MEN included: Storm, Nightcrawler, Rogue, Gambit
Content Warnings:
canon typical violence, reader able to be carried/shoved by characters, mutant reader, not established relationship but feelings implied, no use of “y/n”
Rating: PG-13
A/N: Still getting a hold over character presence but i thinkkk im getting better...? Part 1 (ft: Cyclops, Phoenix, Angel)
Storm/Ororo Munroe: 997 words
The mission was more direct than most. A failed weapons convoy intercepted just outside the city, nothing the X-Men hadn’t handled before. Intelligence from Charles flagged the cargo as experimental, Stark-adjacent tech repurposed and sold through black market channels. You’d be surprised if any of the original technology remained or just a frankenstein of metal, stripped down and rebuilt by people who didn’t understand it.
Ororo hadn’t called the storm at first, but the air already felt off when you arrived. Heavy. Like something waiting.
Now rain and darkness swept across the empty highway, slowing you down, turning every step into effort. Storm didn’t seem concerned.
She had a plan, she always did, you knew that.
She kept the winds low, restrained, not dismissing them yet as the team moved in and secured the perimeter. The air shifted around her, constantly nudging debris aside or guiding movement to protect her team.
Then the weapons activated.
A sharp whine, then shocking blue energy pulses cracking through the air, jagged arcs of electricity snapping toward the team. The smell hit fast, burnt metal and ozone, bitter and sticking to your nose and tongue.
Someone shouted. Another voice cut off. You heard the sounds of breath being knocked from the bodies of your colleagues as they fought, formation breaking as everyone split up to protect those they cared most for.
One discharge struck too close to a fuel container. The explosion didn’t fully bloom, but it didn’t need to.
That was enough.
Ororo stopped holding back.
The storm came down hard.
Rain slammed into the ground, thick enough to blur everything into motion and shadow. Your boots slipped against mud and broken asphalt as wind tore in every direction, pressing against you, making each breath feel tight.
Lightning split the sky, close enough to rattle through your bones, your jaw buzzing with static.
Ororo hovered above it.
Eyes glowing. Steady.
Everything bent around her. She redirected power from the damaged tech into the ground, cutting off arcs before they could reach anyone. Wind wrapped around injured teammates, holding them steady, shielding them from debris and stray fire.
It reached for you too.
Not violent. Focused. The wind curled around your body, tugging at you, guiding your steps back.
Toward her.
Toward safety.
It even cleared your path, sweeping rain aside just enough to keep your footing.
You hesitated.
Then ignored it.
The weapons broker was just out of sight, slipping behind the metal frame of a truck. Running.
You pushed forward.
Your boots slid as thunder cracked overhead, loud enough to make your ears ring. Rain soaked through everything, vision blurring from the intrusive droplets.
“Stay back!”
Her voice cut clean through the storm. Sharp and commanding, meant for everyone even if her eyes were frozen to your figure below.
You kept moving.
Your foot slipped for a split second, just enough to throw you off.
That was all it took.
The last combatant stepped into your path. Half-wired into the weapon system, his movements jerking, uneven, like the tech was pulling him along. Energy flickered along the metal grafted into his arms, unstable and wild.
Shit. How hadn’t you seen him?
Too focused on the broker. Who, honestly, wasn’t the real problem.
You pivoted to counter, body too slow from the water weighing your suit down, the wires snapped toward you. One caught your cheek, buzzing and stinging as you twisted away, already off balance.
Your boot lost traction completely.
The world dropped out from under you, your back slamming against asphalt, breath knocked from your lungs. Rain hit your face hard, blurring everything as the man loomed over you, arm lifting to strike.
This was it—
The wind snapped.
Air surged beneath you, lifting you clean off the ground before you could react, pulling you out of reach with enough force to steal your breath again.
“Enough.”
Her voice was quieter now.
Still absolute.
A gust hit your opponent from the side, sending him skidding across the soaked highway. Lightning struck close, forcing him back and buying your space.
By the time you blinked the rain from your eyes, Ororo was already there.
Descending through wind and water as it parted for her.
God, she was beautiful.
Her arms wrapped around your torso before you could protest, firm and steady, pulling you upright and then higher, lifting you off your feet as the air shifted to hold you both.
You barely registered the movement before you were against her. Her body was much warmer than the chill of the rain, a pleasant shiver as you held back the urge to curl up fully.
“I told you to stay back.”
“I was fine—”
“You were not.”
She didn’t look at you right away, her focus still outward, tracking the field, adjusting the weather with small, precise movements. Her grip tightened as she shifted you, one arm firm around your back, the other under your legs.
She made everything look so effortless.
“You lost your footing,” she said. “You are tired.”
Her hold tightened again when you tensed, like she expected it.
“That doesn’t mean I couldn’t—”
“It means you are done.”
Her tone stopped you in your tracks.
Her gaze flicked to you, sharp enough to cut through whatever you were about to say.
“We are all tired,” she said. “Do not keep your team in this storm just to prove your pride.”
You exhaled, more out of habit than anything, but didn’t fight her.
Didn’t want to.
“…You always do this.”
“Yes.”
No pause.
As you tilted your head back to look at her, rain catching on your lashes, you considered your next statement, bringing your pointer finger to push at her jawbone.
“…You’re not even gonna ask me to say sorry?” you said, testing how upset she was.
Her eyes flicked down.
There it was. That something softer, the difference between Ororo and Storm.
“No.” A brief pause. “You are safe. That is enough.”
Nightcrawler/Kurt Wagner: 955 words
The compound wasn’t on any map.
That alone should’ve been enough to tell you this mission wasn’t going to stay simple. Still, it made sense in a bleak sort of way. No one leaves a clean paper trail for something like this.
Hidden on the outskirts of an industrial district, the building had been flagged as a holding site. Mutants disappearing from nearby cities, all of it slowly traced back here through scattered intel and one very nervous informant who looked like he hadn’t slept in a week and probably wouldn’t again.
The moment you breached it, everything went wrong.
A two-person infiltration team had sounded much smarter on paper. Fast entry, less chance of detection. In practice, it meant there was nowhere to spread out when things went sideways.
And it went sideways fast.
The kidnappers had money. More than expected. Enough to outfit the entire facility with systems that reacted before you even finished processing what you were seeing.
Red lines snapped into existence down the metal hallway, forming a shifting grid of automated targeting systems. Something clicked somewhere overhead, and suddenly the air felt thinner, like the building itself didn’t want you here.
Teleport disruptors were embedded into the corners, pulsing faintly. Worse than that, the sentinels.
Not full-sized. You weren't lucky enough for them to cramp eachother into shutting down. This version was stripped down for tight corridors, leaner plating and sharp fingers. Thin glowing face plates making them look much faster and meaner.
Kurt had been moving nonstop since the fight started.
Sulfur hung in the air every time he vanished, sharp and biting, filling your senses as you moved separately. He didn’t stay anywhere long enough for you to track.
Bamf. Across the room.
Bamf. Behind an enemy.
Bamf. Reappearing just long enough to shove someone out of the path of collapsing debris before disappearing again.
He was everywhere at once, and it made your head spin trying to keep up.
You focused on what you could do. Undoing dampeners. Ripping them off collars, wrists, anything that looked like it was suppressing power or movement. Some of the captured mutants were too weak to stand, others just stared like they didn’t quite believe it was real.
Your feet turning to get to the next group, your first mistake.
“Kurt—!” you shouted, ducking under a strike from a half-assembled sentinel that moved far too fast for something that size. Its arm clipped the air where your head had been a second earlier.
He didn’t answer.
Another bamf echoed somewhere behind you. Closer. Then gone again.
You twisted, trying to track him, trying to find where he was moving people. If there were any left still conscious enough to help, space was tight, but if even a few could fight…
A mechanical hand closed around your arm.
Hard.
It yanked you sideways with brutal force, and your foot caught on sharp metal debris.
Pain flared instantly, hot and shooting up your leg so fast your vision stuttered. You barely had time to register the angle you were falling at before your arms came up instinctively to protect your face.
You never hit the ground.
Bamf.
The world disappeared.
For a split second there was nothing but sulfur and pressure, like your body forgot how to exist in a straight line. Your stomach lurched violently, orientation gone, sound swallowed whole
Then you were somewhere else.
Higher and safer, Kurt had you pressed against him before your brain fully caught up, one arm locked firmly around your waist as he reappeared on a broken overhead beam. His tail curled around your leg immediately, anchoring you both so you didn’t slip off into open space.
Below you, the fight looked smaller but no less chaotic. Sparking sentinels had worn out their half-built joints but above it all, Kurt was already scanning over you.
“Eh—no,” he muttered, voice tight. “This will not do.”
“Oh my god -sorry-, put me down, I can handle it”
“You were about to be crushed,” he cut in immediately.
“I had it—”
“You did not.” Sharper now, then softer as his grip adjusted, “Liebchen, please.”
His last plea landed differently. The frustration and concern he wasn’t bothering to hide worming its way through your worry
His hold tightened again as he bamfed further along the beam, repositioning you both away from incoming fire. Your instinct was to grab onto him this time, fingers catching the fabric of his jacket as the space shifted again.
He made a quiet sound of approval.
“Ah,” he said. “Better.”
“You could warn me.”
“I did.”
“When?”
“I said ‘no.’”
You stared at him for a second, breath still catching up.
“That’s not a warning.”
“It is if you listen.” he chuckled quietly before continuing “You don't listen though”
Below, another blast rocked the room. Something heavy hit the floor hard enough to shake the beam under your feet. Sentinels were bashing their broken arms and bodies against the pillar.
Kurt glanced down, then back to you. His expression shifted, eyes sharpening in a way that made the humor disappear, making way to something else entirely.
“…Stay here.”
“No—”
His tail flicked sharply from side to side, eyebrows knit slightly
“You stay,” he repeated, quieter this time. “I will come back for you if you move.”
That was not negotiable. It didn’t need to be said twice.
You let out a breath through your nose, equal parts annoyed and resigned.
“Oh no,” you said dryly, sarcasm bleeding through despite everything. But as his eyes didn't move from your face and he hadn't left you knew you needed to confirm.
“Thank you.”
A small pause.
Then, like he couldn’t help himself
“Bitte.”
And he was gone.
Rogue/Anna Marie: 1070 words
The convoy had been a trap, but the realization didn’t arrive all at once. It came in pieces. The route was too clean, roads looking like they’d been freshly poured, and a quiet perimeter, the eerie rushing of blood in your head, the only sound being able to be perceived.
The thing that broke that silence was a gunshot and the beeping of your earpieces losing connection with the school.
What should’ve been a standard interception turned into a full ambush the moment the X-Men moved in. Mercenaries emerged from concealed positions along the treeline and broken road barriers, wearing layered armor threaded with power-dampening tech. Not cheap gear either. Someone had invested in making sure the mutants didn’t just get stopped, they got neutralized, forever.
Rogue took the center like she always did when things turned loud.
No hesitation, no calculation you could see from the outside. Just movement. She hit the line first and it cracked open around her. Gunfire tracked her and failed to hold her. Reinforced plating meant to stall her got ripped aside like they were made of foam.
You followed her lead because that was how it was supposed to work. Push in, secure space, keep pressure moving forward.
For a minute, it did.
Then the formation started to fracture.
“Back off!” Rogue called out, voice cutting through the gunfire as she sent another mercenary flying hard enough to disappear through the metal side of a transport truck.
You didn’t back off.
You saw the gap at the same time she made it. A narrow opening in their line, just long enough to slip through and shut down one of their mechanics setting up weaponry before it collapsed back into chaos.
It was the kind of decision you make without thinking too hard, because thinking too hard is what gets people killed in situations like this.
So you moved.
Fast.
Straight into the gap.
For half a second, it worked exactly how it should have. You were through their line, inside their formation, close enough to see the panic shift as they realized someone had broken their rhythm. And you realized this is what gets people killed in situations like this.
Then everyone corrected themselves.
A counterstrike came from your blind side- the hit slamming into you with enough force to fold your breath out of your body. Your vision flashed white at the edges, knees buckling as your boots scraped against gravel and broken asphalt. Something in your ribs screamed, but your brain didn’t have time to process it cleanly.
“Sweets—!”
Rogue’s voice hit your ears like it was coming from far away.
You tried to recover, to turn, bracing your body as another impact was already coming in.
You never felt it land.
The world shifted.
One moment you were about to hit the ground. The next you were no longer in that space at all.
Rogue had you.
Her arms locked around you mid-motion, hauling you completely off your feet like whatever weight you had didn’t matter. The transition was so abrupt it stole what was left of your breath, your body snapping into her hold as she moved without breaking stride.
“Absolutely not.”
Her tone was sharp enough to cut through the noise around you.
“Put me down—”
“Oh, I will,” she shot back immediately, already turning away from the line of fire. Her boots hit the ground hard as she repositioned, dragging you out of the kill zone like it was instinct more than decision. “When you stop tryin’ to get yourself killed.”
“I wasn’t—”
“Maybe not tryin’ but you were succeedin’.”
You shifted slightly in her grip, trying to regain some sense of control, or at least dignity, as she had thrown you over her shoulder, hand on the back of your upper thigh keeping you close.
Her hold tightened instantly.
“Don’t,” she said.
You stopped moving. Considering her last order probably would've kept you safer it seemed like a good bet to listen this time.
The battlefield behind you didn’t stop for anything. Gunfire still cracked through the air, metal still rang out under impact, and someone somewhere was shouting orders that weren’t going to be heard over the noise.
But in her arms, you were out of it for a second.
“…You’re dramatic,” you muttered, mostly because silence felt worse.
Rogue let out a short laugh, breath a little heavier now as she adjusted her grip again.
“I am the calmest one here, thank you kindly.”
You pushed your body up, tilting your head just enough to look at her.
She wasn’t calm. Not really. Her eyes stayed locked forward, scanning movement, pupils blown wide and already tracking the next push while still holding you steady against her shoulder.
“…Second calmest,” she added after a beat
That got a small laugh out of you before you could stop it.
The sound made her glance up at you briefly.
Just a flick of attention. Bright green eyes checking over you, then she kept moving like nothing.
The terrain shifted under her steps as she carried you deeper into partial cover, using the wreckage of the convoy and broken vehicles as shielding. The air smelled like burnt fuel and wet metal, static still hanging from discharged weapons and damp earth.
You could feel the tension in her arms now that you were paying attention. Straining to hold herself back from doing something more aggressive than necessary because she had you with her.
“…You good?” she asked after a moment, feeling your eyes boring into the side of her head.
“Yeah,”.
She didn’t immediately accept it. Just kept moving, eyes settling on a dry area decently covered by cars, dropping you into her arms and then to the ground.
“Stay put. If you need to defend yourself,” she swung her finger down to the ground, pointing to some sort of pulse gun. “No leaving here, I'm coming back as soon as we’re through.”
You let out a ragged breath, somewhere between annoyed and resigned.
“…You saved me,” you said, half teasing it out just to see what she’d do with it.
Rogue’s mouth tugged slightly at the corner.
“Oh, I absolutely did.”
She shifted a little as she stepped over debris, keeping her balance steady while walking away even as another round of gunfire hit the far side of the convoy.
Her eyes flicked toward you for a second.
“Try me doll.”
Gambit/Remy LeBeau: 989 words
Glass frontage, gold trim, chandeliers that caught light and broke it into something softer than it should’ve been. Outside, valet attendants moved like nothing ever went wrong here. Inside, the noise swallowed thought before it could settle.
Music layered over laughter layered over the constant churn of chips and glass in the casino. Everything always in motion.
Remy slowed just slightly as you crossed the threshold, lining his body up with yours as his hand found its way into the small of your back.
His black and red eyes were already moving. Ceiling corners, double mirror walls, the slow rotation of security cameras disguised as plants and lamps.
You followed him through the crowd, staying close, letting the tide of people carry you forward.
The information broker would be somewhere in it, hiding amongst the many bodies and agendas. Nobody comes to a casino of this caliber unless they deal dirty.
You felt it before you saw it.
The crowd thinning just slightly near the upper floor access, people unconsciously avoiding stepping into a space they hadn’t been invited into, bouncers lining up around the room all facing this one point.
Not very inconspicuous, they must be bad at their job.
Remy didn’t point or signal, just changed direction.
You went with him.
Upstairs was quieter, but not calmer, jaw set in anxiety not sure how nobody had stopped you up to this point, chatter from downstairs fading the further you walked in the padded halls.
A private gaming floor. Glass walls. Soft lighting that made everything look so dazzling and shiny. Security posted at intervals that didn’t match the visible crowd density.
And there he was.
Center table, surrounded by people who laughed quickly after each of his statements, nervously clinging onto the arm of his chair or leaning across the table to be closer.
The broker didn’t look like someone who would be hiding. An absurdly confident looking man whose gaze trailed over to you the second you crossed that threshold.
Remy stopped.
Just for a fraction of a second.
His gaze dipped, not to the man, but to the floor between you and him.
You saw it a beat later.
A clean straight seam in the carpet. Out of place in an expensive establishment like this.
“Cher—”
His voice started.
You couldn't stop your step, as if time slowed down you watched in horror as your weight traveled down onto your foot… and onto the carpet.
The floor answered immediately.
Not an explosion like expected. A drop.
The section under your foot gave out cleanly, balance vanishing as you fell. The world tilting sideways as your body followed the absence beneath you.
Glass rattled.
Chips spilled across polished tile.
Someone shouted, too late to matter.
“Aw, hell.”
A hand caught your wrist.
Then your waist.
Motion snapped sideways before you hit anything below. Remy pulled you out of the collapse path in one fluid turn, your fall redirected into him instead of the opening beneath.
Behind you, the floor continued its sequence. Panels retracting in sections, empty space where you had just been standing.
You landed against him instead of the drop.
“I had it,” you started.
His grip didn’t loosen.
“What you had,” he said, already moving, “was a problem.”
Another shift rippled through the room, the lights flickered once, as somewhere across the room, a console sparked and went dark.
Remy hadn’t even looked at it.
He was already walking you through the crowd.
His hand stayed at your waist, not firm enough to stop you from moving, just enough that you moved where he wanted without noticing the exact moment you agreed to it.
Guards shifted , moving their hands near restraints. Eyes looking through the crowd not yet settled on the two of you.
A dealer froze mid-deal, cards rushing out of his hands
Remy didn’t stop.
Another step, and the room bent slightly around a controlled burst of energy from him, precisely hitting a security panel near the bar as died without sound, a gap opening as people gasped and pointed at the sparking apparatus. He took it immediately.
Tables became cover instead of furniture. Bodies became obstacles, pushing you along like a tidal wave.
“Mm,” Remy muttered, sounding mildly inconvenienced more than concerned, “Dis place think it clever.”
Remy moved instantly.
You felt it in the way his hand tightened for half a second, then shifted you slightly off-center before a ripple passed through the floor, mechanical plates clanking below your feet.
He lifted you just enough that your steps stopped syncing with the unstable surface.
“You done,” he said without looking at you.
You opened your mouth.
He didn’t wait for it.
“You are.”
A guard broke through the crowd line ahead, eyes locking onto you both.
Remy looked at him.
The lights above the gaming floor flickered again.
The guard stopped mid-step, as if he had briefly forgotten what he was supposed to be doing.
Remy kept walking, the two of you toe to toe in line, his attention finally flicked to you for half a second,
“You trust Remy?”
The man had just whisked you out of the pit of a booby trapped casino.
“…Yeah.”
His signature smirk crawled up his face before he opened his mouth
“Good.”
He angled you toward a reinforced column near the edge of the floor, cast completely in shadows due to the dim lighting
Another pulse from the system hit the room behind you.
Remy stepped in front of it.
The noise dulled where you stood.
He finally let go. Just enough that you were on your own feet, warm palm prints still able to be felt on your skin.
“Den stay,” he said, eyes already back on the room.
ft. X-MEN
-> X-MEN included: Cyclops, Jean Grey, Angel
Content Warnings:
canon typical violence, reader able to be carried/shoved by characters, mutant reader, not established relationship but feelings implied, no use of “y/n”
Rating: PG-13
A/N: I haven’t written since i was like 14 so please bear with me Orz, next edition of this prompt will be with :Storm, Nightcrawler, Rogue, and Gambit!
Cyclops/Scott Summers: 914 words
Scott was already upset about how everything had panned out- not that there was anything else he could do about it but fight at the moment. Ideally, his team would be away from this so-called "murder world", but a rookie mistake from... well, a rookie, led to the horrifically failing rescue mission at present.
Scott was swiftly clearing a way forward for his team, internally cringing at each replica wearing his colleagues’ faces. Arcade’s twisted copies of his team that were met with the visor's concentrated force. A sick psychological game he was not eager to play, but an even bigger problem was the increasing amounts of smoke and steam the robots were giving off. Scott had already ordered the young mutants to drop to the ground but hands were now limited and the fight was somehow getting worse. The haze was thickening and Scott was losing his ability to keep gaining ground and push forward, his arms were tired and his knuckles were bloody. Exhaustion flooded his body at the lack of air, fatigue building but becoming irrelevant the moment he lifted his visor-covered eyes to look up at you.
Scott was a formidable opponent in combat, Scott was a formidable opponent in combat. Even without his level of experience, you held your own well enough to earn his respect, and more, which is why his leadened arms held no space in his mind as he watched you crowded by the animatronics.
Even if not hit directly by the kinetic concentrate held behind Scott's eyes, anyone not made of pure steel can barely stand the force of the blast, Scott watched in horror as his animatronic pushed forwards- a second animatronic wearing your face rushing behind you as it raised a fist...
Scott ran faster than he had in a long time. Eyes not able to break from the scene in front of him, not even to find an easier shot. His body collided with yours- wrapping his arms tight around your shoulders and head as the two of you collided with the harsh metal ground. Scott's hand clasped over your eyes as the flash from his visor took out one...two. Both robots crumpled, metallic flesh ripped and jagged as parts of your face stared at him. The warmth of your breath against his neck drew his attention away as he sat up and moved his hand to your upper arm.
"It's important to keep watch of all your opponents even if you're outnumbered," he mumbled, crawling low to the floor "especially with someone like Arcade... he knows a lot more about us than publicly revealed"
"Thank you, Scott"
That was all it took to have his grip tighten as he briefly turned his masked face towards you. He didn't never get gratitude, the younger members even now were watching him with admiration as they sat low on the ground waiting for a way out. But it was always assumed that Scott would, in the end, fix things. That was his job as the captain. An honorable job, and one that despite the tiring work he flourished in.
"It's my responsibility to make sure everyone gets back safe". Good. That was a pretty neutral answer. He didn't just throw himself across a room leaving a bunch of teenagers to fend for themselves with no way out or anything. Damnit Scott what a reckless move.
A few minutes of searching gets by before someone finds a vent, and by extension a weaker metal panel to rip out and act as a doorway before contacting Xavier for a helicopter.
Scott stood noticeably close, pretending to watch over the students happily breathing fresh air, inhaling deeply himself as he tilted his head just enough to catch a sight of you already looking at him. A jolt ran up his neck as he stiffened his posture and looked directly ahead.
"I really do appreciate it Scott, I know you were already overwhelmed with the students, it must be hard watching over who you care about like that and leaving to help someone who, by all means should have been able to handle that." A minorly depressed chuckle left your mouth, as Scott's vision snapped back to your face
"It wasn't hard at all, I'd make the same decision again without hesitation." His words, despite their bluntness, sent hot blood crawling up your cheeks and neck.
"Ahem. Yeah, I guess that's why you're in charge, huh" tapping his shoulder with your fist before breaking the seemingly endless eye (visor?) contact.
"You're a valued member of my team"
"Yes, right, thank you." At this point the embarrassment obvious in your face and demeanor, Scott with his face a foot away could totally tell if it wasn't for you trying to cut the conversation shorter
"I mean it" he opened, closed, opened his mouth again. Seeming like a fish out of water. The two of you now mutually facing forwards as the rookies yelled and pointed at the approaching chopper, cheering and exerting the last of their energy before inevitably being cooped up in the infirmary for checkups.
After a long beat of silence, just as the skids touched down, you cleared your throat, drawing his attention (which, you already had. He probably couldn't accurately state anything that had happened within the last three minutes, his charade of attention thankfully helped by his visor)
"I value your presence too, Scott."
His hand came to your lower arm, above your wrist and held it gently, leading a gaggle of “oohing” and “ahhing” teenagers behind as the two of you boarded your escape.
Phoenix/Jean Grey: 901 words
The city lay behind her, burning. Phoenix’s power was too volatile for the dry grass around her, the poor farm area still recovering from a drought.
But even from miles out, Jean could still feel it. The small town’s police lights and smoke climbing into the sky in distant columns, staining the horizon a dull, bruised orange.
You had lured him out. That much had worked.
The open stretch of land ahead was torn apart from the fight already. Uprooted earth and debris scattered where it had no right to be. Scrap metal dragged out into the field during the altercation.
Just like him.
Jean hovered above the battlefield, but the sky offered none of its usual relief. Sirens clawed at her mind. One, then dozens, until they blurred into a single, piercing scream. Her hands snapped to her temples in worry.
Caliban.
The pressure wasn’t physical, not exactly. Like fingers prying between her thoughts, forcing emotions that she didn’t hold forward, the hatred and fear almost overwhelming. The cities below cried out in overlapping waves of panic, each signal crashing into the next, louder, sharper, impossible to separate. Caliban’s influence caused the panic to increase… more and more, and Jean felt her control slip, clinging on to the hope that you’d be able to fight him well enough with her mental shield from his manipulation.
The two of you knew better than to rush into this alone, Caliban would know you were coming the second you approached, and know your plan as well. But the sirens from civilian cities couldn't be ignored and Jean sent Kurt to get reinforcements- leaving the two of you to fend in the meantime.
Caliban's white skin stood out starkly against the haze crawling across her eyes, glowing from the intense sun, as she watched the two of you fight.
It seemed never ending, Jean was gradually getting used to the debilitating noise but you were running ragged, the man in front of you swinging his claws forwards again and again, never tired and never done.
You dodged. Barely. Again. Again.
Too close. Every time too close.
Jean felt it before she saw it, your control slipping where hers already had. The mental shield she’d wrapped around you thinning, cracking under the same pressure tearing through her.
Lunging, fighting faster than you should, sloppily. Exactly as he wanted.
Her eyes darted over to the blue mutant approaching with what looked like Logan, the two careful not to step within his sensor's proximity.
Stumbling forwards Jean took flight one more time, glancing back only to see Caliban with a firm grip on the back of your neck.
Jean brushed against the last few seconds in your mind, turning to watch her and make sure the evil fuck couldn't grab onto her as she flew to safety, moving to block him even more. To buy her distance and safety.
The safety that was compromised for yourself until Logan gave the go ahead- and with Jean wasn't sure he’d be fast enough.
Dread was only way to describe the chill in her blood despite the phoenix’s fire around her and its presence in her mind lashed out in worry, overriding every self preservation instinct.
Jean was tired, she wouldn't last much longer keeping Caliban’s powers trapped in this tiny area, but there was no question in her heart when she dropped from the sky and enveloped the hunters arm in fire. No question in her soul when she caught you dangling in the air and no question in her mind when you were safe in her arms, stumbling as she sprinted away.
The extra weight was slowing her down, but as she passed Kurt and Logan she kept going, dropping to the ground only after the bright X-Men uniforms were blobs in the distance.
Her knees hit the grass hard, the impact jarring up her spine as she dragged you down with her, one agile hand bracing the back of your head before you could hit the ground.
Waves of gratitude filled her mind as you sharply sat up, looking at her tired eyes before unceremoniously checking her exposed skin for injury.
Jean didn't have the energy to stifle her laugh, not that you’d ever want her to.
“How is your head? You should’ve left. I’m sorry—I could’ve held out a little longer. Logan was ri—”
Jean cut you off by letting her forehead fall against your shoulder, her hand weak where it gripped at your side.
“...Jean?”
She hummed softly, eyes closing.
“I couldn’t leave them to save you,” she murmured, voice low, unsteady.
A pause.
“Not when you stayed for me.”
Your hands stilled where they hovered near her face. For a moment, you didn’t move or speak, sitting there and letting the weight settle somewhere deeper than the adrenaline still thrumming through your body.
“You weren’t supposed to see that,” you muttered finally, quieter now.
Jean shifted slightly, just enough to rest more of her weight against you. “See what?”
A short breath. “That he was getting in.”
“He was getting everywhere,” she replied, barely above a whisper. “I felt you fighting it.”
Your eyes flicked over her face again, searching for anything you might’ve missed. “You’re exhausted.”
“I’m upright.”
“Barely.”
“Still counts.”
You huffed something that almost passed for a laugh, one hand dragging down your face before hesitantly settling against her shoulder.
Angel/Warren Worthington III: 1421 words
Warren was not someone who accepted orders easily, he took them to mind and considered following them but aside from select few scenarios, he would rather be caught stark naked in the main hall than sign over his “eternal devotion and compliance”
An extremely dramatic take on what being on an elite superhuman team entails, but Warren liked his freedom.
The illusion of freedom is what he had right now; the Morlocks, despite getting their asses handed to them last time, Angel would like to note- had thought of their most brilliant plan yet to lure in Warren for negotiations.
A kidnapping. Of course.
Not him this time, Callisto’s desire had seemingly faded after Warren had defeated her and her sewer pals. He never thought he’d be so thankful for the survival of the strongest mentality they carried.
Angel’s wings stretched out across the night sky as he looked for a place to land. Nowhere too close to them, Annalee would have no problem sending Leech out to drain away all his strength if she had a chance to spot him before he could get to Callisto.
Before he could get to you.
Warren, public “playboy”, and popular bachelor within society's lens thought nothing of public flirting or attention, it was harmless. You liked it, or you didn't dislike it at least, he liked it, but Storm had warned him time and time to carry his attentions to others as well if he refused to “behave” in public, making you an easy tool to target the prominent and wealthy X-Men activist.
Landing lightly on the roof of a building lining the alley, Angel stared down into the dark before checking his pocket.
The ransom letter (how old fashioned) didn’t have any direct requests for money, no creepy love poems, and simply asked to meet for negotiation. By himself.
Warren dropped to the ground before kicking the manhole cover in. This one, thankfully, led to the militaristic metal tunnels rather than directly to the sewage system. Not that he would've backed out at that, but he’d definitely bargain a few days of chores for it.
The sound of metal beneath his boots increased as he gained desperation to find you in this creepy underground lair, he rolled his shoulders and neck, tension settling into place as he moved. The hissing pipes and dampening air urged him forwards as Warren broke out into a jog, there wasn't enough room to let his wings unfurl in these halls but thankfully echoing sounds of voices carried him to a grimy metal door.
Every corridor looked the same now. Metal, rust, more metal, the maze-like structure of the alley was deliberately designed to keep intruders out, worst case scenario… archangel will have to make an appearance.
Slotting his fingers and nails between the gap, Angel pried the screeching door open to reveal you in an iron cage and Callisto standing square shouldered in front of it.
“So you got my letter”
“I’m surprised you can write at all, need help with that?” Warren’s snide remark made part of you chuckle and another part horrified.
“Angel, I’m locked in a birdcage right now lets not provoke her”
Warren's blue eyes shot through the dark focusing back on you. Thick, iron bars, rusty at the base from lack of care… he could break those if you aren’t let free.
“You’re right,” he unfurled his wings, making his body look bigger and the room incomprehensibly smaller, “Callisto, what’s the price for my colleague?”
She barked a laugh before the deadpan of her face came back. Cold anger seemed to be the only expression Angel was worthy of.
“I want you to fund Morlocks members”
“Absolutely not. I fund plenty of mutant foster programs, there's no reason for me to encourage a terrorist organization to keep children in the sewers”
“We are not a terrorist organiza-”
“You kidnapped me, my friend here, and I'm sure others. That's pretty terroristic.”
You breathed in through your nose, the sharp draw of pungent air stinging your lungs but god you were losing faith this could end in a safer way for you.
“Big words from the big man, huh? You aren't in the position to negotiate right now.”
Callisto’s black nails wrapped around an iron bar and pushed the cage, swinging you back and forth as you slid across the rough metal, scratches digging into your knees and palms.
“Warren-” Your eyes moved to his face, watching as his attention flicked between you and the woman holding you captive.
“Yeah Warren” Callisto’s fingers dropped to a lever you hadn't seen before. “Help us and free them, or help nobody”
“This is ridiculous, you can’t just-” but his words were cut off by Callisto pushing the lever, causing various liquids into a pit below you.
She was erratic. Swinging her arms wildly to point at the flimsy rust covered chain supporting this whole contraption
“This is not a discussion!” She was screaming at this point, your body flinching back automatically “You get to be in public so you loooove the humans. They're so sweet, huh? Putting you on magazines?”
Callisto’s grip tightened on the lever.
The cage jolted again, harder this time.
Warren’s wings snapped outward, filling the space instantly.
“Yeah,” he said, voice cutting through her shouting, “I think we’re done talking.”
The chain overhead buckled as he launched forward, the force of his shoulder crashing into the cage and snapping the chain above as the iron bars hit the wall behind and splintered, leaving the back functionally open.
“Warren—!” you started.
“I’ve got you.” and he did, Angel pried the bars out from their slots, and carried you away from the jagged and splintered metal. His wings were partially unfurled, creating a snowy white shield from Callisto who you could hear rapidly approaching.
“Enjoy the ride”
A quick quip that distracted you from the footsteps of the screaming woman, as Warren hauled you fully in his arms, holding you tight to his chest and abdomen before flicking one wing out to destabilize the Morlock leader before sprinting out, and flying upwards as far as he could in the cistern.
Your eyes were closed for the majority of it, the twisting and turning to maneuver around the pipes and into freedom making your stomach lurch.
Warren’s long eyelashes brushed against your forehead as he looked down. He was at a loss for words, in all honesty. He was responsible for this so he couldn't even chastise you to be more careful, Ororo was sure to have a ball with this new information.
The air changed first, less damp, less metallic.
Fresh air. Well, as fresh as New York can get.
Warren angled upward sharply, wings cutting through the last stretch of tunnel space before the world opened around them in a rush of night sky.
Only then did he slow down. Not by much, but to cruise along under the cover of darkness, even as his grip stayed steadfast and tight.
“You’re shaking,” he said finally, quieter now.
“That’s called adrenaline,” you muttered back, still not opening your eyes.
“Mm.” A pause. “Bad reaction time. Noted.”
His remark earned him a weak elbow to the ribs as he flew, though his grip didn’t loosen, not even slightly. His eyes stayed on you the entire time, even without looking at him the burning feeling was distracting enough.
“Just because you’re flying doesn’t mean you don’t have to look ahead,” you muttered. “What if a plane hits us?”
That got an immediate reaction.
Warren’s whole head turned toward you mid-flight, like the idea itself had personally offended him. Then he barked out a laugh, entirely too loud for the moment.
“A plane?” he repeated.
You narrowed your eyes at him.
“Yes. A plane.”
He shook his head, still laughing under his breath, wings adjusting smoothly as he corrected his path without even looking forward again.
“You might have bad reaction time,” he said, tone lighter now, teasing, “but I’m fairly certain a gigantic metal machine would be loud enough for me to notice.”
A beat.
“And if I don’t,” he added, “I’m pretty confident I can whisk you out of the way before it hits me first.”
That earned a small pause from you.
“…That’s not reassuring.”
“I’m very reassuring,” he said, like that settled the matter.
His grip tightened just slightly as the wind shifted again, stabilizing you both automatically.
You huffed something that might’ve been a laugh, finally relaxing a fraction against him.
