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X-MEN ‘97 SPOILERS

“ici minou, minou…” remy called teasingly, padding down the hall leisurely. he passed by an ajar bedroom, barely catching a glimpse of a student sprawled under the sheets.

this was a game the two of you played often.

“i like to keep you guessin’,” you smiled, kissing his cheek before rushing off to hide. “remy’s a real good guesser,” he mused after finding you, carrying you to the kitchen so he could start on dinner for everyone.

he paused, those captivating eyes of his shifting to the common room. he stepped inside, sending a nod toward kurt, who was busy playing a round of pool with logan. “hello, remy!” he greeted, tail whisking around, “once again looking for your bride?”

“je suis,” he smirked, winking at the furry fellow before confirming you weren’t here, “she come through here?”

“that is a secret, my friend,” kurt pocketed the striped 10, earning a dead glare from logan. remy hummed, sending a casual wave as he left. he strolled down the halls, shuffling a deck of cards as he went. you hid in the common area two days ago, so he knew it would be a waste of time to check.

but, remy knew you would circle back if he did check.

he stepped into his room, a full loop from where the game had begun. he closed the door behind him, leaning against it with a playful grin. his arms crossed, biceps fully visible due to the black tank top he wore. his jeans hung low on his hips, crimson hair tousled with the top section messily tied back.

a barely visible line of skin peeked from under his tank top, revealing that happy trail he kept for your satisfaction.

“don’t need t’see ya t’know yer just ooglin’ at me, chère,” remy tilted his head, and you sunk further into his closet, “petit…”

you heard his footsteps near his wardrobe, hugging your knees when he knelt inside. crimson irises encased by black sclera landed on you, utterly sure and confident. remy feigned confusion, reaching a hand out.

you giggled when his hand playfully kept changing places on your invisible figure, reappearing before his eyes. “gardez donc,” he closed the gap between the two of you, lips pressing to yours, “remy wins.”

“you always win,” you groaned, letting him help you get out of the space. he simply thought for a moment, smiling as he shrugged, “gots me a sixth sense for ya, chère. ain’t possible for ya to hide from remy.”

“one day,” you pointed at him, eyes narrowed in a way that made him laugh, “one day you won’t find me.”

“sounds cruel,” remy’s hands slid along your waist, fingers dipping beneath your shirt and tracing shapes into your skin, “can’t say i want ‘dat day to come, darlin’.” you smiled shyly, and your adorably nervous demeanor elicited an utterly smitten chuckle from remy.

“oh!” you perked up, making him look at you patiently. you wiggled from his arms, running over to the dresser. he sat on the bed as you dug through the drawers, pulling out a small box and returning to him. you tried to sit next to him, but he simply tugged you to sit on his lap.

“like you close,” remy muttered, gently nudging you closer, “ça c’est bon.”

“went shopping with jeanie today, and i found this,” you offered him the box, “thought of you.”

he smiled warmly, scooting himself back so he could lean against the wall. you watched, biting your lip anxiously as his deft fingers lifted the chain. it was thin, thin enough that it wouldn’t be clunky or in the way.

the small charms made him pause.

a tiny silver ace of spades, your initial, and a little steel diamond.

“you ain’t just find ‘dis,” remy’s eyes flicked up to you, heart melting when he seen you deflate a little. “no…” you sheepishly looked away, “this is so embarrassing.”

“why’s ’dat?” he grinned, “mon douce femme, remy done got himself a winnin’ hand wit’you, huh?”

“don’t flatter yourself,” you muttered, leaning against his chest. he didn’t continue in his teasing, opting to admire the necklace you’d made for him. his thumb fondly pressed against your initial, chest warm at the thought of wearing it.

“will ya put it on me?”

you pulled back, carefully taking the chain from him. you fiddled with the clasp, the most secure one you could find, reaching around him. remy’s eyes were in line with your chest, and his lips curled up lazily:

“now ‘das a good view.”

“pervert,” you grumbled, arms leaving from the breadth of his shoulders. you couldn’t climb off him, the weight of his hands on your thighs keeping you pinned to his lap. “how does remy look, chère?” he loosely traced hearts along your thigh with his index finger, “does it compliment ‘dis mug?”

“compliments your ego.”

“ouch.”

he watched you as your fingers coiled around the chain, the charms clinking against each other. the corners of your lips quirked into a pleased, giddy little smile, one that made remy tilt his head forward and kiss you.

“you’re cute. feelin’ possessive?”

you nodded unconsciously, ignoring the way warmth pooled behind your cheeks and the heat that wafted off him. “remy ought t’get his belle somethin’ pretty,” he whispered mostly to himself. you shook your head, shifting your weight. he allowed it, adjusting when you moved to sit sideways on his lap. his thighs served as a comfortable frame, one pressed against your lower back and the other tucked under your legs.

he noted the way you’d sleepily curled into him, reaching over to grab a blanket he kept near his pillows. remy draped it over you, kissing your hairline.

“je t’aime,” he felt your hands weakly hold the front of his shirt, “in life and death.”

“i love you, too, remy—but you can’t love me when you’re dead,” you mumbled, feeling his grip on you tighten almost defensively. his eyes lifted to the mirror nearby, barely a glance before they returned to you. he gently tucked hair behind your hair, missing the way his reflection kept staring at him—the way his colors faded to gray, the way your barely visible hands grew bloody.

“regarde moi.”

remy’s room was cold.

an absence of everything he used to be.

it used to be warm, a candle beneath the lamp burning at all times, his coat draped on the closet hook. his staff near the bed, cards strewn everywhere—

your hand lifted, fingers curling around the thin chain around your neck. you felt the R, pressing your thumb into it long enough to leave an indentation in your skin.

now it was gone. empty. a void of a room that used to wear remy’s life as a skin.

you closed the door, hands trembling as you walked away. the wound was still fresh, raw near the center and tender around the edges. it had barely begun to heal, but your constant shifting and inability to keep going left it open.

you stopped near the common area, spotting rogue and xavier and the others around a table, cards and chips in front of them.

they’d began to heal.

they were healing, celebrating remy in the ways that were easy. involving him even when his body was so far away, even when the world still hated mutants and there was still work to do. your eyes fell to the ground.

you kept walking.

the elevator hummed softly as it ascended, hissing open and revealing the open skies. scott despised when you did this, and for a while you’d halfheartedly agreed to sit somewhere else—but right now, you really needed your favorite spot.

you sat on the edge, legs under the bar as your crossed arms held your head. your cheek smushed against your sleeves, legs swaying in the wind. you watched the sea roll, the waves dance beneath the moon’s embrace.

a barely noticeable clink made you glance down.

three industrial locks, all golden and worn with weather. you reached for them.

jean + scott

jubi! sun

then, your name and the scratched metal where remy’s name used to be, worn away by time and weather.

your hands coiled tightly around the lock, shields blooming in your palms. you watched the lock crumble, puffs of dust and metal blowing away. you dismissed the tears falling down your cheeks, staring at the moon.

soft footsteps made you tense, your figure disappearing in the blink of an eye.

“i didn’t mean t’scare ya, sugar,” rogue murmured, walking over and sitting with you. you stared at her, her bare arms draping over the railing and her eyes sparkling under the stars.

“will you do somethin’ for me?” she then asked, smiling softly when you reappeared next to her. you looked at her expectantly, and she opened her arms.

rogue adored you, just as you adored her.

she’d connected with you easily, grateful your shields could conceal your skin from her life-threatening mutation. she hugged you, chin propping atop your head. your arms circled her, weak and defeated.

“had t’stop scotty from comin’ up here ‘n givin’ you a hard time,” she mused, “knew you’d be sittin’ here.”

you thanked her quietly, and if she noticed the missing lock from the bar, she didn’t acknowledge it. you separated, resuming your earlier position of rest on the bar. rogue was silent, simply allowing her presence to comfort you. to let you know that she was there.

“remy used to sit here with me,” you muttered, his name heavy on your tongue, the syllables constricting your throat, “when it got too loud.”

“he still does, sugar.”

“he’s probably playin’ poker with the devil,” you laughed, a sad pitiful sound, “and winnin’, too.”

rogue nodded, a smile playing on her lips. her gloved hand lifted to rub your back. her brows knit together suddenly, her hand freezing in its place on your spine.

“we expectin’ someone?”

you lifted your head, eyes scanning the sky. you frowned at a large aircraft rapidly nearing the barrier, and alarms began to blare inside before you could reply. you covered your ears, letting rogue pull you from the bars. the rooftop elevator door hissed open, revealing the rest of the x-men.

“it’s the x-force,” scott said to you and rogue, barely able to catch a glimpse of your reddened eyes and frown before you disappeared. they waited for the aircraft to land, and your hands wrung together anxiously.

jubilee thumped down the runway, a solemn expression on her face.

“where’s null?” the girl asked rogue quietly, eyes shining with worry and dread. you approached, unmoving when jubilee flinched at your sudden presence. “i hate when you do that,” she grumbled, reaching in her pocket, “there’s…something you should see.” she held out her hand.

you stared.

queen of hearts.

your chest constricted, your mutation flickering wildly. rogue tried to reach for you, to stabilize you, but her fingers drifted into the air. her arm fell in defeat, faintly hearing your footsteps retreating and your quickened breathing.

you stumbled into the powder room of the rooftop, red eyes glaring into the mirror. you gasped when you seen him behind you, gray skin and pale hair, a horrifying reflection of the warm man who’d fed you gumbo from the pot a few weeks ago.

his cold hand gripped your jaw, lips peeling back into a grin so alive it made you sick:

“regarde moi.”

reflective shards crashed to the ground as you slid down the wall, hands over your ears and face buried in your knees. you sobbed and sobbed until the door burst open, panicked voices trying to get through to you.

“null, null—honey,” kurt’s hands pressed against your shield, a bubble of safety around your vulnerable form, “come on, my dear. it is alright.” he felt the shield throb beneath his palms, the surface weakening enough for him to push through. he swept you up swiftly, keeping you and himself safe from the shattered mirror.

you wept out apologies, embarrassed and mortified at how weak you were. kurt’s hand smoothed over your hair, sending scornful stares at anyone who looked too long.

you held onto him tighter at the sight of apocalypse’s corpse, mutilated in the way you had only seen in movies. rotted bones, scraps of flesh, an endoskeleton of a beast that once reigned dominantly.

“did remy do that?” you brokenly whispered.

“we do not know, sister,” kurt replied evenly, but you could hear the apprehension and the way he didn’t even believe his own words.

“we do not know.”

the tattered queen of hearts laid next to your glass of water, the burnt circles a perfect pattern of how remy dealt his cards. you pushed it away with a flick of your finger, ignoring the way scott worriedly examined you before redirecting his attention back to the scanner in front of him.

“gambit is our priority. he needs to be recovered quickly and quietly,” he said, firm and commandeering, “the last thing we want on our asses is x-factor and mech sentinels.” the water in your glass rippled, and you looked up.

the scanner began to beep rapidly.

kurt quickly grabbed you, apologetic eyes meeting yours. it was established earlier, the grand plan you had absolutely no faith in.

gambit wouldn’t come alone, that was a fact.

rogue was tasked with finding him, using her powers to purge the evil spirit within gambit, and the rest of you would buy her time.

except you.

you would not fight, you would defend. in a puff of purple and black, kurt deposited you in a prepared sanctuary. here, you would shield the aircraft and your comrades.

and you were content with that.

“good luck, dear,” kurt lovingly hugged you before disappearing. you placed your hands on the cold floor, the gentle thrum of your mutation coating the aircraft like a second skin. rogue could only briefly marvel at the rainbow sheen that clung to her skin, rushing off to locate gambit.

the end of the aircraft, a cargo space stuffed with boxes and plenty of nooks and crannies to hide in, was blown apart at the ramp. wind whipped wildly around her as she floated in, apprehensively looking around for him.

“remy?” she shouted, jerking around at the faint rush of sound, “it’s rogue…”

“i can help you,” she neared the open end, red hair blowing around, “apocalypse poisoned y’mind—just trust me. let me help.”

“where is she?”

rogue spun, panic laced in her expression. gambit stood there, colorless and haunting. a blast of kinetic energy made her leap back, bracing behind a box as she tore off a glove with her teeth.

“ain’t got time for ‘dem games, mon ami,” gambit spoke, tone void of its usual playfulness. rogue launched from a nearby crate, paling when her hand connected with his face. his back thudded against the cargo, eyes narrowing. her horrified expression made him crack a smirk, “what’s wrong?”

“that ain’t…possible,” she whispered. gambit caught her wrist before she could retreat, brows raising in arrogant fashion, “touch of ‘nother dame was never gon’ do anythin’ to me.”

his fingers dug into her wrist, crimson irises sparking with impatient rage, “tell me.”

rogue glared, and gambit rolled his eyes. his free hand lifted, kinetic energy collected at the tip of his index finger. she watched it nervously as it neared her skin, powerless in the face of death himself.

“call…or fold?”

she thought about you, alone in that bunker. eyes closed as your shields protected them, helping them with all you had even though it left you utterly vulnerable.

“i ain’t tellin’ you, swamp rat.”

gambit tsked, releasing the swarm of energy and watching as she fell to the ground. his eyes narrowed sharply, turning away from her and stepping inside the aircraft. a mere glance told him you weren’t in the main area fighting—no, he knew you would be somewhere else.

somewhere hidden.

ready for him to find.

you frowned worriedly when your shield for rogue dissipated, palms pressing firmer against the steel floor. a pressure at the back of your skull made you wince, the strained voice of jean ringing in your ears, “x-men, i’ve lost contact with rogue!”

your eyes opened in a flash, breathing quick and heart pounding. you could sense him, feel the destructive energy he always so casually carried about him.

“he’s getting close to—“

the room plummeted into darkness, just as jean’s voice flashed away. you slowly crawled backwards, tucking yourself into the furthest and darkest corner. a slow, drawn sound echoed down the halls.

remy.

his whistle, relaxed and leisurely, as if he wasn’t wreaking havoc on the people he shared a home with, “ici minou, minou…”

your body cloaked, a bubble surrounding you. his boots left heavy footsteps behind him, the faint whishing of a deck of cards between his palms, an imperceptible hum of kinetic energy.

“allons-y, mon chère,” remy crooned, and you could barely make out his shadow beneath the door. your body shook when the keypad outside hissed and exploded, the door crackling open.

“y’know,” he then started, and all you saw was his shadow and the terrifying crimson of his irises, “when we die, life does flash before our eyes.” you buried your face in your knees, hands clasping over your ears. your shield rattled violently, the thrum of it intensifying every second remy was near you.

“all i saw…” he murmured, and you felt him kneel in front of you. remy’s hand brushed against the barrier, shattering it like glass with one spark. you peeked, just barely, but it was enough to make tears fall from your eyes—

“…was you.”

remy reached for you, gray hands colliding with your knees. you didn’t uncloak, you didn’t move. he seemed to realize your terror, your confusion, lips curling into a fond little smile. “i told ya, mon coeur,” his grip tightening, “life and death.”

your form flickered, and his eyes softened at your tear stained cheeks and trembling hands.

“oh, petit,” he swept his thumbs gently over your knees, a small act of comfort, “come t’remy, hm?” you fell into his arms, crying as he cradled you. his touch was the same, his mannerisms the same. he let you cry in his arms, heart aching at the sight of you. he pushed some of your hair away from your face, leaning down to kiss your forehead. your brows knit at the weird fuzzy feeling that accompanied his kiss, unable to get anything out before darkness took over.

“sleep,” he whispered, feeling your body weaken against him, “good girl.”

remy swept you up, getting to his feet. he draped you over his shoulder, free hand blasting a hole in the wall of the room you were confined in. before he could depart, a puff of galaxies forced him to stop.

“let her down, remy,” nightcrawler demanded, sword poised, “you are not yourself.”

a card charged with kinetic energy zipped towards him. nightcrawler teleported, his hand barely grazing your sleeve before the card dashed back to him, embedding itself in his side. gambit watched, pleased as nightcrawler thrashed in agony, “neither are you, mon ami.”

gambit loaded kurt onto the back of his motorcycle, settling himself in the front before placing you on his lap. he held you against him with one arm, the other commandeering the bike as he and his brainwashed comrades blasted off into the night.

he didn’t turn as a slew of cards flew behind him, purple explosions in his wake.

it was warm when you woke up.

you stirred awake slow, sluggish as you pushed yourself up. you looked around, nerves on fire and senses hardly up to par. “remy?” you called, flinching when the door creaked open. you shuffled back to the headboard, cloaking purely out of habit.

remy stepped inside, red eyes scanning the bed. he smiled, a slight chuckle leaving him as the door clicked shut behind him, “hidin’ when y’called f’me is a little rude, chère.” he neared the edge of the bed, sitting on it.

god, you hated how he could read you.

“can’t read ya mind,” remy mused, “gotta tell me what’s goin’ through that pretty head o’yours.” he tilted his head when the mattress dipped, as if he could see you shifting closer to him. your fingers grazed his coat’s sleeve, the worn leather soothing your nerves. remy didn’t move, only wearing a small smile as he felt your hands confirm what you were seeing.

when you finally reappeared, his eyes fell on your face.

your eyes were tired, exhausted, a sparkle of disbelief and fear. but he saw the lingering swirls of hope, the flecks of joy and relief. your lips were raw, the skin around your fingernails bitten clean.

but you were still the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“say somethin’, darlin’.”

“how?” your voice was sad, wavering in all the wrong ways.

“crawled out the grave t’get back to you,” he whispered, cautiously raising a hand to cup your face, “my girl.” you held his wrist, free hand reaching to drag over the stubble on his jaw. he looked so dead, so sickly—but so alive.

“what did you do to annie?” you lowered your hands, worry etched into your features. remy’s brows knit disapprovingly, lips pulling into a smile that clearly said not to ask anything else, “she tried to keep you from me. ‘dat ain’t important.”

he saw you wanted to press, pride coiling in his chest like a viper when you visibly opted not to. “c’mon, chère,” he coaxed gently, standing and holding out his hand, “made dinner. your favorite.” your hand slid into his, remnants of sleep still keeping you weak and not fully tuned in. the halls were quiet, the only source of light a few candles lining the walls.

you looked around while remy guided you downstairs, hand resting on the small of your back when you froze.

“kurt?”

the boy perked up from finishing setting the table, glowing red eyes boring holes into you, “good evening, sister. dinner is served.” he bowed at the waist, departing as quick as you’d seen him. you averted your gaze to the floor, tensing when remy stepped away from you. he grinned in amusement at your reaction, “just pullin’ your chair out, belle. remy ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

you sat where he’d went, staring at your reflection in the silver pot. remy sat at the head of the table next to you, pouring flutes of white wine. he lifted the lid, revealing a steaming, glorious gumbo. he spooned some out for you, carefully placing your bowl back in front of you.

he served himself, watching you wait to lift your spoon until after he was done, “eat, petit. made it with love.”

you ate slowly, ignoring the way he barely touched his own serving. he simply observed you, eyes soft with admiration. once you’d had your fill, you pushed the dish away.

“thank you,” you whispered, earning a nod in response. “need t’tell you somethin’ important, chère. can ya listen to me?” remy slid a hand over, offering it to you. you took it, unable to meet his intense gaze as you played with his fingers.

“apocalypse ain’t much different than us,” he started, noting the way your hands paused before resuming their ministrations, “he had a love of his own.” you lifted your eyes briefly, the initial around your neck suddenly feeling heavy.

“she betrayed him,” he moved from his chair, kneeling next to you. you turned to him, and he held your hands on your lap, “took a part’a his power, used it for her own good. done brought it down here to ‘de bayou.”

he squeezed your hands when they began to shake, feeling the way your shields started to emerge.

“locals know her as the x-ternal.”

you wanted to ask, wanted to ask why he was telling you any of this. why he was sympathetic for apocalypse. “her relic will make you immortal like me,” he breathed, reverent and adoring, “it’ll bind us together forever…husband and wife.”

he stood, bringing you up with him. remy slowly backed you into the wall after your glances towards the exit, hands landing on your waist, “then nothin’—not even death—ever keep us apart again.” your hands pressed against his chest, eyes still cast low.

“look a’me, chère,” he muttered, hand lifting to raise your face to him, “i’m offerin’ a second chance. believe in us, believe in me.”

“we’ve been dealt a whole new hand,” remy’s forehead pressed against yours, noses brushing, “remy dreamed of ‘dis right here—havin’ ya to myself f’the rest of our lives.” he kissed your cheek, tasting the salt of your tears. he brought his lips to your ear, voice a deep coax you could never turn away:

“trust me, mon coeur. remy’s got ya.”

the edges of your lips curled into a smile, arms wrapping around his neck. remy held you, breathing you in, grinning wide into your skin.

“not lettin’ you go again,” he whispered lowly, “ain’t nothin’ takin’ me from you.”

not even death.

riotrants: this variant and the original romy x reader will get their second parts when the finale comes out (unless i just genuinely can’t wait anymore…)

pt. 2

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