One of the younger students at the school asks you and some other X-men to play a game of pretend. And a certain blue elf takes it as a chance to be a charming little dork. (shameless Kurt x Reader fluff w Scott and an unnamed x-baby making an appearance)
A.N. So, this was actually written many, many years ago on an old blog of mine but I've been wanting to write some Kurt stuff again, so I decided to dust it off, revise it, and post it here. Hope you enjoy!
The reader is called "princess" and is described as wearing a dress, but no other descriptors are present.
Kids were something else, you muse as you smooth out the creases in your elaborate outfit, particularly the children at Xavier’s school. You liked kids but one little tot had taken a great liking to you, she was about six and was always roping you into playing pretend with her. You didn’t mind, after all, who could say no to an excuse to act like a kid again? And if these little games between your harrowing missions made you and the girl smile, who were you to say no?
But, as you stand at the top of the main staircase, dressed in a pink, lacy princess dress, you wonder if you had to invest in proper costumes for the sessions of make-believe.
The dress was too small for you, the skirt not even going to your knees, and you had to leave the back unzipped just to fit in it; but it made the little one happy to see you oblige her wanting to play “Knights and Princesses” by playing the latter. You had naturally wanted to be the knight with her, but that role had been given to none other than…
“Oh Princess of Xavier castle, we are here to rescue you!” called a dramatic and accented voice from the bottom of the stairs. You watched as Kurt and the little one leaped from the shadows, both donning knightly costumes and plastic swords.
That was your cue, you step out and place your hand on the banister at the top of the grand staircase. “Oh my brave knights!” you cried in a wavering, simpering tone. Hey, if you were stuck as the princess, might as well have some fun, right? “Please, you must run and save yourselves!”
“Knight’s never run!” the girl shouted with pride, puffing out her chest.
“What she said!” Kurt confirmed.
“But, my heroes, you don’t understand! There’s a fearsome dragon- and he’ll surely destroy both of you!” You paused, but nothing happened. “I said.” you repeated, far more sharp this time, “He’s sure. To destroy. Both of you!”
“Rawer.” came a flat voice from the other side of the stairs.
Scott came out into the open, dressed in a cardboard and crayon-colored attempt at a dragon’s costume you and the mini knight had made to fit him. He had wanted to be a knight too, but folded like a cheap suit the moment the girl gave him the Big Sad Eyes and asked him to be their dragon.
Surprisingly, despite his flat tone, he wasn't doing too bad.
"Who dares enter my castle!" he said, ending with a much better roar than his first.
The little girl yelled dramatically “The Knights of the X Table, that's who! Now get back, you nasty beast! You won’t terrorize the princess any longer!”
" 'Nasty'? Well, that's a little uncalled f- AH!" Scott's mumbling was cut off as the tiny knight charged, swinging her sword wildly.
“Sir Kurt, you get the princess to safety, I’ll deal with the creature!” She called back as Scott the dragon let out another yell and ran for the next room.
Kurt looked up at you with a wink, “My pleasure!” and disappeared in a puff of purple smoke.
He reappeared next to you, that wicked grin displayed brilliantly on his face. His tail gripped the back of your dress and pulled, effectively causing you to spin into his arms. You couldn’t help the heat rising in your cheeks as his face neared yours.
“Are you ready, meine Prinzessin?” he asked in a low, almost intimate tone. But before you had time to reply with anything but flustered mumbles, he pointed his sword at the sky and yelled “Fear not, your Highness, for I shall throw you to safety!”
That got your attention “Wait ‘throw’!?”
Before you could free yourself of the elf, he lifted you into his arms and the gesture would have been romantic, if he had not immediately tossed you over the banister.
You only had time to scream something along the lines of ‘I’ll run you through with that plastic sword, Wagner’ before you were engulfed in black and purple smoke. Next thing you knew, Kurt was crouching on the ground floor holding you closely…and barely concealing his teasing chuckles!
“Come now, Liebling, did you really think I would let you get hurt?” He asked, obviously still amused at how shocked your face was.
“You could have warned me,” you crossed your arms, but even you knew all he had to do was smile to be forgiven.
“Ah, but where would be the fun in that?”
You rolled your eyes, but then the voice of Kurt’s fellow knight in cardboard armor came from the other room. “Sir Kurt, have you gotten the princess yet!?”
“Oh, my dear knight, thank you for freeing me from that awful tower!” you cried, falling back into character easily and making sure the little one heard you.
“Of course, my fair damsel,” Kurt replied in that theatrical voice, but then “anything for you,” he added in that same low tone he used before. “You know, usually the prince gets a kiss in reward when saving a damsel in distress.”
“Is that so?” You ran your hands up his chest and leaned in so your lips were just a breath apart. “Well, my prince…” you swore you heard him draw in a breath and hold it, anticipation simmering- right before you snatched the plastic sword from his hand and jumped to your feet. “You'll have to get your kiss after we defeat the dragon!”
The look on his face was priceless as you winked at him and turned towards the next room. You brandished the sword proudly and charged towards the mini knight and Scott the dragon, yelling like a Shakespearian actor about how the beast’s days were numbered.
You didn’t see the look of complete adoration etched on Kurt’s face as he watched you, tail swaying dreamily behind him. After allowing himself a smitten sigh, he stood straight and pulled a second plastic sword from his belt.
You rendezvous with Logan after Christmas at the X Mansion to cuddle and talk about the day's events
Word Count: 940
Warnings: Fluff, Smooches
Your bare feet treaded lightly as you descended the stairs, your hands running over the lengthy garland that was wrapped around the railing. Soft yellow lights lit your path like pixies twinkling in the night.
During the daylight hours, the halls were bustling with excited students playing with their toys. The very air buzzed with energy as swarms of little faces passed you.
Those faces… Those smiles… They had become home.
It wasn’t just the familiarity of your surroundings- knowing each room and how to get there. It was the fact that these walls protected the ones you’d come to love. Made them comfortable. Provided security for them. Helped to create a space for them to reach for their full potential.
The evening hours were a stark contrast to the holiday excitement. Quiet. Tranquil.
Most everyone that dwelled and learned there were fast asleep- tired out from the day’s activities, and yet, hopeful and anticipating what the next day would bring.
It was in that quiet time that you had the house to yourself in a way. Of course, there were times when you’d encounter another soul who couldn’t sleep or was simply enjoying the peace just as you were. With the traumas and tragic histories that those who attended the academy tended to have, it wasn’t unheard of. But it seemed tonight, everyone under that roof found themselves enjoying peaceful slumber.
You paused at the bottom of the stairs once you’d made your descent, peering around.
Well, almost everyone. There was one you expected to be awake yet.
You reached one of the common rooms, feeling your heart skip a beat when you saw him sprawled out rather comfortably on the couch as he waited for your approach, his head resting on a throw pillow as he gazed at the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree.
Logan’s exceptional hearing alerted him of your presence and he turned, eyebrows raised, to greet you.
“Hi,” you whispered, crossing the room as quickly as you could without your footsteps making noise. He lifted his arms invitingly, allowing you to drape yourself against his side on the couch.
“Hey,” he murmured against your hair. “What took you so long?”
“It was five minutes,” you countered playfully.
“Yeah, well, it felt like five years.” His arms encircled you, giving you a squeeze that pressed you tighter against him. You shut your eyes and drank in the steady thump-thump of Logan’s heart and the way his chest rose and fell with each deep, tired breath he took. That and his scent- a sort of teakwood mingled with notes of a warm musk- was a deadly combination that might have you falling asleep within the next ten or so minutes. Especially after the busy last few days you’d had.
“What’s on your mind?” he asked, noticing how quiet you were.
“Do you think the kids had a good Christmas?” you asked. So much had gone into preparation. You’d been so busy with wrapping gifts, making preparations for the holiday meals, and organizing activities for the students that the quiet was almost unsettling. While you’d been so thrilled with your work, your mind now seemed keen on reflecting on your efforts and nitpicking every little detail that you previously hadn’t had an opportunity to address.
“You kiddin’ me?” Logan asked in disbelief. “Everyone had a blast. Students and staff included.”
“Really?” You shifted to glance up at him. His brows furrowed in confusion as he tilted his head down.
“Yeah. Why would you think otherwise?”
“Nothing major. I just noticed some of the gift wrapping wasn’t the best. The potatoes at dinner were kind of dry…” You counted the items on your fingers as you listed them aloud. Logan took hold of your hand before you could count any more, entwining his fingers with yours.
“Woah, woah, there.” He pressed a kiss to your temple, murmuring in that low voice of his, “I must’ve seen hundreds of smiles today. Too many to count. You were a big part of making that happen.”
Your heart fluttered, and he continued.
“Now, some of these things you’re talking about, I don’t think that’s the case. At least, I didn’t notice. The potatoes were good. All the gifts were wrapped with care. Not to mention shredded open before anyone could hold them under a magnifying glass and check.”
That made you chuckle, and Logan moved to kiss your cheek. “You’re right.” Breathing a sigh of relief, you let go of the doubts that had attempted to plague you in the aftermath of your victory. “Thank you, Logan.”
He gazed down at you again, his dark eyes set aglow by the soft lights. “You did good. Let yourself enjoy it.”
You leaned up to press your lips against his, and Logan in turn cupped your cheek as he deepened the kiss. What tension had begun to set in your muscles melted away, and you relaxed fully in his arms. Letting your head rest against his flannel shirt, you huffed in amusement.
“I’m in danger now,” you whispered.
“Hm?”
“With nothing to worry about, I am inclined to fall asleep.”
“Then sleep.” His hand began to rub up and down your back soothingly, tempting you further. “Winter break is still on tomorrow.”
Classes wouldn’t start up again until after New Year’s day, so you’d have time to recuperate.
You sighed deeply at the realization, letting your eyes flutter closed. “Alright, then. I’m convinced.” Craning your neck to sneak in one last kiss on his lips, you whispered, “merry Christmas.”
There was definitely a smile in his voice when he murmured back, “merry Christmas.”
Charles is protective in general, over everyone he cares about.
But with you, he is much more careful and even more cautious.
He knows that you are strong and can take care of yourself, but that does not stop him being afraid of you getting hurt, or killed.
On missions he always keeps a tab on you, whether it's through his mind, or always keeping an eye on you.
No matter how much he does not want you to fight, or enter a dangerous situation, he would never hinder you or force you to hide away.
Before you learned of his feelings towards you, you thought it odd that he seemed to watch over you more than most.
At first you thought it was because he did not think you as capable.
Once he figured out that you were thinking this, he decided to correct you, admitting his feelings and why he cares for your well being so much.
You were shocked, but in the best possible way, having had a crush on him since you had met.
Your relationship was built on a trusting foundation and you never doubted the other.
You knew how much Charles worried about you, so you always tried to be less reckless, if not only for his sake.
In the situations in which you get hurt, Charle becomes very soft and caring. Unless of course you had gotten hurt while being reckless, then he is more critical of you, telling you off about your decision.
Even if he is angry with how you handled something, and it led to you getting hurt. He was still gentle, behind his stern words would always be a gentle touch and a worried gaze.
Though he hates why he has to do it, he does enjoy taking care of you.
If you were injured he will check on your often, choosing to take care of your injuries himself (after the initial check up by Hank or someone more qualified).
If you ever get sick, he will become your own personal nurse, bringing you things you need, or making sure someone else can if he is not there.
When you are injured much worse than most occasions, Charles is heartbroken, he feels guilt of having brought you into the situation, and does everything he can to makes rue you make it.
And he gets angry. Angry at whoever or whatever hurt you, and if he can he will stop them from ever hurting anyone else.
When you are so hurt that you are unconscious, he does not sleep, and he stays nearby until you wake up. Always checking in on you, holding your hand and talking to you, often reading your favorite stories or poetry to you.
Hank ends up having to take care of both of you, to which you are the one to chastise Charles for once you wake up.
You are his world and he would do whatever he needed to to take care of you and protect you because he adores and loves you so much.
(Never) Really Over- Kurt Wagner/Nightcrawler x Reader (1329 words)
Written when I was about 15 with Wolverine and the X-Men Kurt in mind (boy deserves more love btw, the curtain bangs?!! aaaa)- because of the whole X-Men reuniting thing it had going in the beginning. How reader and Kurt broke up is left up to your imagination.
Finally, she thought it was over.
Everybody, when they decide to have a good cry in bed (especially upon having particular exes show up) knows when they’ve no more tears left to cry. Even if you want to bask in your self-pity a little while longer.
She pondered if she should just go to sleep.
But she couldn’t, not in this house. So full of old memories, lovers’ tiffs and first kisses.
And Kurt.
She lay her head on her knees, the soft bedcover serving as a cushion.
It had been years since she’d been here. After what happened, how they broke up, it was hard to believe she was still welcomed back. She knew Kurt was a good man. The best of men. She also knew that they could never go back to where they were.
She glanced over at her wristwatch on the bedside table. 3am. The third night in a row she’d stayed up regretting and wondering and crying.
Suddenly she realised how utterly exhausted she was. Maybe it was time for a bit of comfort food.
Damn this place. And damn her for not being strong enough to take care of herself and ending up back at Xavier’s looking for comfort. Again.
She knew her face was red and puffy. She probably looked a mess. But no -one was awake anyway, so who cares?
Throwing off the bedsheets in frustration, she rubbed a flannelette sleeve harshly across her eyes, and made her way quietly to the kitchen.
Kurt lay awake, stricken with the turmoil of his ex-girlfriend’s recent reappearance.
‘Definitely not a good thing…’ He tried convincing himself quietly, rolling over for a seemingly uncountable time in the past 5 minutes. He flicked his articulate tail dismissively against the mattress, remembering how, all those years ago, she had suddenly cut him out of her life.
Whatever the reasons for it had been, it had left Kurt unable to take on his usual personality of swashbuckling jokester for a very long time. He knew it was hard hearted of him, but he thought he would never be able to forgive her for what she’d done.
But now, when she was so close to him once more…it was hard to believe this was the same girl he’d had the time of his life with.
And he wanted to help her.
Though she had been avoiding him for the time she’d been here (at the most, he’d been receiving a quiet, stiff, “Hello, Kurt,”) maybe he could…fix her. And deep down, he wanted those days back.
But would she be willing to work out their problems?
He stared at the ceiling in thought for some time, the ticking of the plain clock of the opposite wall adding to his space out.
Yes, he had to help her- because a small part of him still believed and hoped that everything between them had not been lost forever.
She reached around the side of the wall for the light switch, fumbling momentarily before deciding perhaps the solemn darkness of the empty kitchen was more sympathetic. Flinging the fridge open she started to pull out whatever struck her fancy.
When a girl’s upset, she probably could literally eat a horse.
Moving to the cabinets, she repeated her food search and emotional rescue, topping it off with a return to the fridge, guzzling an unguarded carton of chocolate milk left vulnerable in the side door. The nausea that began to creep in only spurred her in her downward spiral, and she gazed with an empty hunger upon spotting a supermarket cake tucked in another lit corner of the fridge.
Ripping the plastic lid off, she started to hack away with a fork. Coming to that familiar kitchen in the small hours of the night wasn’t the best idea after all. The hall lights reflected off the lacquered wooden cabinetry as it all started to come back to her.
“May I have this dance, Liebchen?” He said quietly, stifling a laugh. She was on the verge of collapsing into a fit of giggles too.
‘We should get candles or something. You know, romance.” She whispered, grinning. Kurt responded by opening the fridge and wedging a chair against the door.
“Here. Mood lighting.” He flashed that gleaming fanged smile of his and, contagious, she lit up in return. He took her hand in his, the other curving around her back. Behind him, his spade tipped tail swayed affectionately.
Then they were not so much dancing as melding to each others warmth. It was a slow, effortless rhythm. The small darkened kitchen disappeared and then the rest of the world, replaced by the comforting smell of Kurt’s unique brimstone-soap combination and his gentle grasp on her hand.
Two fingered. Strong. Adoring.
Her cake was a mushy mess. Mindlessly mutilating one whilst mourning a lost love can make that happen for you. That night in the kitchen had been so perfect.
And so far away now.
She sat there in silence, ignoring her numb fingertips and toes as the cold crept up on her.
She had known something had been missing. And maybe she knew just what.
Or who.
“Liebchen.”
She started, almost knocking her banquet of self-pity off the table. It was Kurt.
Kurt.
His accent was husky with the early hours of the morning. She was surprised to find herself almost instantaneously trembling, and she knew it wasn’t just the cold.
He quietly made his way towards her. She instinctively lowered her head feeling a shame rising in her.
“You don’t have to talk to me if you don’t want to.” She whispered.
He lept softly onto the bar stool besides her, and briefly glanced in concern at the mess of boxes and silver foil packaging scattered on the bench. Kurt matter-of-factly began to help her pack away what was left of the food.
“I thought I’d find you in here. I just have something I need to say to you…”
She glanced up at him, only to meet Kurt’s amber gaze. There was an intensity in it that made her pulse falter and her breath hitch in her lungs. Blinking harshly against the hot tears that had sprung to her eyes she found herself stuttering a plea.
“Kurt, I…” I know we’re done. I ruined everything. I never deserved yo-
“I would give anything for another try with you.” Kurt admitted sincerely.
Her eyes widened as she looked at Kurt, speechless. He blinked, his face a mixture of expectation and nervousness as he watched her digest his confession.
All at once she threw her arms around him, burying her face into his shoulder, Kurt wrapping his own arms around her, pulling her tight against him. “I’m so sorry.” She choked. “I get scared- and I run. I love you with my whole heart Kurt and it terrifies me. But I never wanted to hurt you.”
He smoothed her hair as his expression softened.
“I know. I’m not mad at you. When you came back to the mansion, I could tell you were torn up about something- all this time, you thought you had to run from yourself?”
She pressed her damp face further into his chest, feeling more embarrassed at her sudden vulnerability. Kurt pried her from himself and she let out a half-laugh-half-sob.
A wheeze.
“Yeah.”
“Maybe tonight you stop running and let me take care of you- I’ll love you carefully if I have to.” Kurt squeezed her hand in reassurance and smiled warmly. Noticing the time on the oven’s green LED display he added: “I think we could do with a good sleep in the meantime though. Come on.”
In an instant, Kurt had teleported the both of them to his unmade bed. He chuckled as, now exhausted she wrapped herself securely in his bedsheets, relishing the way they smelt of him.
Feeling more protective than ever he wound his tail around her leg and tucked her against his body.
Request/Summary: Requested by anon: Could I request a thing from X Men where the reader is a female mutant that can transform into animals, and she stays with Hank and Charles from the 60’s to the 70’s?
Gender neutral
“I thought it was weird that I could turn blue, but at least I don’t turn into a cat and stalk people! I know you’re listening to me! Don’t give me that confused look!”
“Why are you yelling at a cat?” You walked into the drawing room to see Hank yelling at a random moggy. It was rather bizarre watching him point his finger, hand on one hip, and admonish a creature that obviously could care less.
“Wait...its not...its not you?” You watched Hank look between you and the cat with what appeared to be increasing embarrassment as he realised the person he thought he was talking to was not in fact a person at all.
“Duh, genius. Did you think it was me?”
“Maybe...”
“Wow.” After all this time and he still can’t seem to grasp that you had a particular pattern no matter what animal you chose to shift into. “I thought you were a scientist? Aren’t you supposed to be observant.”
Requested by anon: Charles x reader, where reader can change time line but reader has got a lot of information about other time lines in their head. Soooo reader has got headache and some problems you know. And Charles helps reader
A/N: This request is so old and I’m so sorry for letting you wait for so long my lovely anon! I’m trying my best to empty my ask box as soon as possible and be done with my requests after so long.
Your eyes had frozen over like the surface of a winter puddle, robbing him of their usual warmth.
He wanted to reach in and tell you it's not hopeless, but why should you believe him?
When a migraine struck, you seemed to be its prisoner, quite helpless in your cage of pain. You were blinded by flashing colorful spots and all you craved was darkness; quiet and stillness to soothe your pain.
Often nausea would overwhelm you and you would vomit; Charles always in your wake to hold your hair back. The pain would throb so violently around your skull that you wondered why it didn't just crack open.
Today was one of those days and when Charles came home from work he found you curled on the bedroom floor under a duvet. He moved to fetch your medication and helped you take it, whispering a million sweet nothings in your hair in an attempt to make it all better.
With a sigh, he curled up right next to you on the varnished wood and waited until you were strong enough to move your legs and make it to the bed.
His hands cupped your cheeks in a final attempt to be inside your head and God knows he cursed his powers right then for not being enough for he would gladly take the pain upon himself if it meant never seeing you like this again.
Mutations are a gift, not a curse.
He said it time after time, repeating it like a prayer but at this moment, with tears falling from your eyes and the never-ending battle taking place inside your mind, it hardly made any sense.
So he held you. It seemed that was all he could do.
Hold you and hope that your pain would be gone with the yellow shining sun that was only now starting to show from your bedroom window.
Logan is angry with you for taking a hit in battle that was meant for him
Word Count: 839
Warnings: vague reference to injury
Link to Part 2
“Hey! Kid. What was that about?” he demanded. “Did’ya hear me? I said, what was that about?” His expression was nothing short of utterly ticked off- which was pretty par for the course for Logan.
You simply stared straight ahead, pursing your lips. If you could cross your arms in your current state, you would. It just so happened that your injury was still too sore even with the pain meds Jean had given you.
He scoffed at your defiant silence and shifted his weight to the other foot, hip jutting out in a casual stance as he ran a hand down his face in exasperation. Even so, as irate as he was, he couldn’t bring himself to raise his voice. Not when you looked so, well, fragile as you sat there in the medical wing bed.
If it had been him taking the hit, the wounds would have been gone for hours already by now. Instead, you would be spending the next few days recovering here at the minimum.
It just didn’t add up.
“Were you trying to be some hero?” He started pacing toward the other side of the wing, glancing out the window. You were never quite sure why he did that from time to time, but you guessed that he was checking the surroundings for danger out of habit. “Do I need to remind you that I heal instantly, and you don’t?”
“It’s just-” you started to snap, but stopped yourself, shaking your head.
“It’s just what?” he questioned impatiently.
You whipped your head around to meet his gaze furiously. “I don’t see you that way! You’re not a punching bag! Just because you can heal, it’s not your job to take all of the pain all the time!”
Logan took a few steps closer, blood pressure lowering as he processed what you were telling him. Your gaze lowered to study your folded hands as the silence stretched on.
His voice quieted in a familiar, almost gentle, husky tone. “It’s not your job to take everyone else’s pain all the time.”
It made your heart nearly melt into putty inside your chest. He never failed to have that effect on you each and every day in the halls of Xavier’s School.
Your own voice lowered to a whisper. “I know. But when you have an ability like mine…it becomes hard to watch people get hurt. Especially the ones you care about.” You shook your head. “I can absorb the pain and hurt of everyone else, Logan. But not yours. For once, I just… I wanted to.”
He was a man who could recover from the worst of injuries within minutes. You were a woman who could absorb the damage from others at a cost to your own health. His own ability worked too fast for yours to be effective on him. And since you were to absorb from others, there was no way for you to heal yourself…Well, not one that you were willing to take, anyway.
The bed dipped as Logan took a seat at the edge, his back to you.
“I’d be over it by now, you know,” he said. “I hate seein’ you in here for the others as it is. You don’t need to add me to the list.”
“Yeah, well,” you shrugged, biting back a wince. “Too bad.”
“Look,” he released a sigh, turning to meet your gaze again. You found yourself absolutely captivated by his brown eyes as they bore into yours. “Next time, just let me handle it. I’d take a few seconds of that over watching you sit in here for days, or worse. Got me?”
You hesitated, and he lifted a brow, tilting his head.
Finally, you nodded in defeat. “Okay.” It wasn’t a bargain you wanted to strike, but how could you argue? “Still, it would make it easier on me if you didn’t get yourself hurt as much.”
At that, he gave a humorless chuckle. “Yeah, sure.”
“Oh, and while you’re here…” You bit your lip, looking down. “Um, would it be too much to ask you to cover my classes for me today?”
He rolled his eyes. “Professor already asked me.”
You smiled warmly at his and Xavier’s thoughtfulness. “I see. Thank you.”
“Just focus on gettin’ out of here.”
Logan gave your shoulder a pat, extra careful not to disturb your injury, and stood up. He strutted out of the med wing and paused to give you one more warning look- a final reminder to get well. You nodded, holding back a smile.
A little while later, Storm visited to see how you were doing. She brought some things from your room to occupy yourself with as you recovered. You thanked her profusely and happily grabbed the first book, which was one you were already halfway through, and resumed reading.
Still, your mind kept wandering back to your interaction with Logan. Sometimes, you wished you could just tell him how you felt… But you weren’t ready to take that risk.
