#Pick A Card || Remy Ask

[amischiefofmuses]

How we feeling about these?

[stormyelliotwritez]

reader who had a anxiety attack when like out w friends or smth and has to like shakily call remy to pick him up and is doing so bad at explaining bc hes just like sitting in a corner somewhere shaky or wtv

ill silence now. (until later…) 🦕

hehehehehehehehehehe angst timeeeeee hahahahahahaha *evil laugh goes here*

Calling him.

Getting drinks without Remy holding your hand was going fine. It was going great. Everything was fine. You and your friends were chatting. You talked about how you had a boyfriend now and how happy you were being his boyfriend. Your friends talked about their lives and bought more drinks. Everything was great.

Then someone started shouting in the kitchen and then a car backfired outside. Your heart started to speed up but everything was fine, right? Right?! You did the breathing exercises Remy had gone over with you last time but then one of your friends started yelling at some guy nearby. You didn’t even know what had happened.

You were fine though. Everything was going to be okay.

And then someone dropped a glass.

That was it.

Your heart rate started speeding. Your hands got clammy and it was so stupid. You couldn’t breathe and you just needed out. Tears were falling down your cheeks. You clambered up from your chair and rushed into the bathroom, bumping into everything that was in your way.

You stumbled into the bathroom and slipped into one of the cubicles, locked it and sat down on the toilet lid. What were you meant to do?

Call Remy. He always said to call him.

With shaking hands, you pulled your phone out of your pocket and managed to dial his number.

Ring, ring, ri-

“Baby, baby, whats wrong?” He asked over the phone.

You breathed a sigh of relief and tried to talk. You cleared your throat and tried again.

“Need-need to get-,” you tried to say as your throat closed up again.

“Cherie, what’s wrong? Cherie?” He pushed gently.

You could hear the twirling of his favourite card, the King of Hearts. He always did that when he was nervous. You hated when you made him nervous.

“Nee- need to ge- get picked up,” you managed to mumble out.

That same split second, you heard him picking up his keys and rushing to the door. You could hear his footsteps running towards his car.

“Baby, stay there, okay? Pandye an ladann ti bebe a!”

You heard his car start and you nodded before remembering it was a voice call.

“Ye-yes, I’ll stay put,” you said quickly.

“Bòn,” he said quickly before hanging up.

You turned your phone off and started rocking back and forth as you waited. You hadn’t gone too far from home so he hopefully wouldn’t be long. You tried his breathing exercises again and they started to slowly work but you just wanted to be in his arms.

A few minutes later, you heard familiar yelling. You couldn’t make out much but you heard where’s my boyfriend, asshole! You tried to make a sound but you just couldn’t, too scared you’d start crying again.

Eventually, the bathroom door was slammed open and he knocked on your cubicle door.

“Cherie? You in there, my love?”

You scrambled up and unlocked the door. He nudged it open and then pulled you into his arms. He felt so safe. He was always safe.

He led you outside and to his car and into the passenger seat. You curled up and wiped your eyes.

“You’re safe now, ti bebe.”

[romana-after-dark]

Our Gentle Sins: Chapter 8

Thank you so so so much to @plasticbabies for making this beautiful header!!!! we finally have a good one!

Dark!Logan Howlett x fem!reader

Series Masterlist : Main Masterlist : Logan Masterlist

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Chapter summary: Past. Logan and you dance. Present. Your admit your issues with doctors.

Warnings: This fic features non con, pregnancy, and themes of religous trauma. I will not be saying everything that happens to warm you, by clicking read more you are prepared for extremely dark themes and that you at 18+. You are responsible for your own media consumption.

3.0 words

Before

You were beautiful. No, no, beautiful wasn’t enough. Radiant. Ethereal… Fuck, Logan was struggling to find words as he watched you in your dress, confidently striding around the dance with a spring in your step. You wore a yellow, floral dress that vaguely resembled regency era, everyone around you wearing the best they could get. Charles had put money towards allowing the teens to get nice dress clothes, believing knowing how to dress properly was important, so when you and your literature class planned a school ball, they were prepared. Everyone came, because of course they did. You were the favorite teacher.

Being the favorite teacher meant Logan hadn’t hardly seen you all evening, watching you float like a butterfly around the hall talking to everyone. You had enlisted him and Remy, as well as a few others like Scott or Emma to help chaperone, but you and Remy and him had spent the week setting everything up. Logan never saw himself as the type to hang up streamers, but for you he’d do it all. Sometimes, he’d catch you glancing towards him even while chatting with another, and that made him happy.

You made him happy.

“She’s beautiful, Logan.” Kurt appeared next to him, but Logan didn’t stop watching you. The way you looked tonight, he needed to make sure you didn’t suffer unwanted attention. He’d protect you. 

“Yeah, she really is.”

“You make a move yet?”

Logan rolls his eyes. Kurt was nosey. “No, Kurt. You know I can’t.”

A chuckle beside him. “No, I actually don’t. Charles didn’t actually say you couldn’t. I think you just like to wallow in self pity. Remy agrees.”

His head whips towards his friend, tearing his eyes off you for just a minute. “The fuck you talking to the Cajun about me for?”

Kurt remained playful. “Besides you and her, no one wants you together more than Remy does. Now, for fucks sake Logan, go get your girl.”

*

You were talking to Hank, discussing the struggles of making the most period accurate dance you could with one of the few people here who could understand.

“Can I cut in?”

Logan.

You turn to see him, and god, he was beautiful as ever, but incredible in that dapper suit. He slaps a friendly hand on Hank’s back, and Hank gives him a knowing look, politely excusing himself to go get some food. Logan smiles down at you, holding out his hand. “May I have this dance?”

Heat warms your skin, heart picking up as you try and fail to hold back a smile, taking his hand. “My dance card is very full, but I think I can squeeze you in.”

It was perfect. Logan, being the man 200 something years old, knew how to dance. Remaining chaste, somehow you still managed to feel like he was burning a hole through your clothes when he touched you. His hand on your waste felt indecent, salacious… but his touch on your shoulder was downright lewd. Logan had never seen your shoulders, always covered up even that night, and a few nights after, you came to his room as he tossled in the throws of a nightmare. Not that he had seen the waist he touched so lightly either, but you imagined him slipping off the dress with the hand on you, heat beginning to pool in your stomach.

 Logan had never mentioned catching you masturbating, although he’d certainly heard you calling his name as well. The window was nothing to his hearing. He was polite enough to leave it be, and that’s one of the things that made you fall in love with him. He was better than you deserved. Logan was good, Logan was kind and gentle and you didn’t care what other people thought of him. He was better than you.

“You look beautiful, Dolly.” Logan spoke earnestly, thumb caressing over the material on your collar bone, making you wince in pain, his large hand splayed over you. 

The compliment made you blush, casting your eyes away. You knew how to take a compliment, even if you weren’t convinced of its truth. “Thank you.”

“Hey.” His hand, smooth and soft from the regenerative cells in his body, cupped your face, coaxing it up to look at him. “I mean it.” When your eyes avoid his, he presses further. “Why don’t you believe me?”

You swallow hard. How to explain it without sounding like a jealous or catty bitch. You didn’t hate other women. You were jealous of many here, yes of course you were. Jean, Emma, Rogue, Storm. Of course you were jealous, you weren’t an idiot. But it wasn’t the sort that made you dislike them. All the women here had been wonderful to you, but still, you struggled to connect. You felt out of place in womanhood, often feeling as if you were a perpetual teenage girl on the outskirts, no idea how to be a woman correctly. It wasn’t that you were a virgin, but you hadn’t had any idea what they were talking about with sex. Your husband made you feel dirty for wanting to try anything new.

You didn’t know how to do make-up or how to dress like them, do hair and fuck and kiss and maybe kiss each other? You didn’t know. Did friend kiss all the time like in college movies? What was normal? Getting married at 16 certainly wasn’t. You couldn’t really talk to them about interests because you didn’t really know what interested you. You liked reading, but the books Emma read were…. Well, far from the Jane Austen and Agatha Christie you read. Part of you wanted to read those books… but you was scared.

It was a big world out there, and you didn’t know how to navagate it.

“Dolly, talk to me.”

“I just… sometimes I wonder why you spend so much time with me… there are far prettier women here-”

“Dolly-” 

“Who don’t cry when they try on pants, who don’t dress like grandmas, who can drive a car-”

Who can give you children.

“Hey-”

“You should be spending your time chasing someone who can give you what you want. I’m not an idiot, Logan. I know you feel what I feel for you but…” Tears prickled at your eyes. “But I can’t… I can’t be what you need or want, Logan. I can’t.”

For a long moment, you danced in silence, Logan leaving you in a waltz as bodies blurred around you. Scott and Emma, Remy and Rogue, student couples of yours who you’d suspected were together… all of it surround you, filling the air with lust and love and friendship. In the middle of it, you and Logan, some combination of all three.

“I’m not who you think I am, Logan.”

“What do you know of what I need, baby doll? I don’t need what others have. I need what you have. I need you. You. You are my dolly, nothing else matters.”

Your next words blurted out. “I can’t get pregnant.”

Another pause. “I guessed that.”

Your head whips up, finally looking at him in shocked confusion. “What?!”

“Fundamentalists don’t believe in birth control. They don’t even believe in um… natural family planning. You were married several years. So, either you didn’t get pregnant either because of you or him, or you left children behind.”

“I’d never leave children with that monster.” You spat out your words.

“I know. I know you wouldn’t. I figured it was either you or him.”

His trust in your character touched you, but there was something else that stood out. “What do you mean him?” Logan narrowed his eyes, brows pinched together.

“Him? If he didn’t have enough…” He hesitated to find the polite words. “Well, if the issue was on his end.”

Your skin, if it was burning before with Logan’s touch, was on fire in a rage. “You mean the issue could’ve been him?”

*

You were absolutely livid. All those years, all those years he blamed you, said you were barren, and it could have been him! Your beliefs at the time didn’t allow for medical intervention for women who struggled with infertility (natural only!) so you never went to the doctor for help conceiving. For years you were miserable, wanting a child, wanting nothing more than to be a mother, told all you were worth was your potential motherhood and since you couldn’t live up to it, you were nothing.

And it might not have been because of you.

Logan watched with concern as your eyes filled with tears, burying your head in his nice shirt to hide your crying as you explained it all. Every negative pregnancy test, how badly you wanted it, the nights you spent on your knees until the bruises begin God to be worthy of a child.. How every time one of your siblings or church members announced a pregnancy you rejoiced for them but felt a punch in the gut, how your husband beat you for your failures. 

“Did Logan make you cry?”

Scott pulled you out of your thoughts. Not long after you and Logan danced, Scott asked for one and you happily obliged. Scott was very kind. Remy was a good friend, Logan was… whatever was happening with Logan. But Scott checked in on you regularly. See if you needed anything, if you were settling into the school well, if you were having any trouble or concerns with the teens. When you were sick, he checked in late that day much to Logans annoyance.

“What?” You snap to attention. “Oh! No, no… I was just… other stuff, you know.”

You couldn’t see Scotts eyes, so reading his face was harder than with most. Over the years, you’ve gotten good at reading men's body language and facial expressions, the only way to survive in the male dominated world you grew up in. Scott was an enigma. 

“Are you sure? Because Judith,” His use of your pseudonym threw you off. “If anyone here is harming you, we won’t protect them. I know the life you had, but you can just us. We won’t choose Logan over you.”

What on earth was he talking about? “Logan wouldn’t hurt me, Mr. Summers.” You insist, eyes searching for Remy, hoping to get out of this conversation.

Scott’s thumb pulled at the top of your dress, moving it aside just a single inch, but you knew what it revealed. You gasp, swiftly covering it up again, hoping no one saw. “What-”

“If he is hurting you, you need to tell me. I promise, I can he-”

A large, hairy hand clamped down on Scotts shoulder, a subdued cry of pain escaping Scotts lips. 

Logan spoke, a dark, low voice in Scotts ear. “The only fucking reason I’m not tearing your arm off is because my baby doll spent months planning this dance and it would be rude to spray blood all over her guest. So I suggest you take your hands off her, and we handle this outside like men.”

*

“LOGAN STOP!” You scream, crying against the wall as you watched Scott and Logan fight in the parking lot. Well, fight wasn’t the right word. Scott could probably have killed Logan if he was really trying, but he wasn’t. Scott was far more rational than Logan was, especially now.

The two men battled it out, leaving you all but forgotten as you sob on the floor.

Then, an explosion. It wasn’t big, nothing and no one was damaged, but enough to make Scott and Logan stumble back and pause, chests heaving in their torn and dirty formalwear. 

“For fucks sake!” Remy appeared from the purple cloud, gesturing towards you. “I leave for 5 minutes and I come back to find my friends fighting like teenage boys! And I do say boys, cher, because a man,” He reached a hand to you, helping you up. “Wouldn’t leave a lady crying on the floor!”

“Take her inside.” Scott instructs. “I’ll handle this.”

Logan’s ‘fuck off’ went unnoticed. 

“And what, exactly, are you handling?”

“I dunno, Remy, maybe something to do with the claw marks on her!”

All eyes turned to you, including Remy. “Pistache,” His voice was gentle. Did something happen?”

You melt under the pressure, slinking away behind where Remy stood. “I can explain, Mr. Summers.”

And just like that, eyes were back on Scott. “Are really out here trying to kill our brother in arms before you even ask the girl what happened?”

Scott looked embarrassed. “She won’t say anything about him! She’s clearly scared! Besides, I wasn’t trying kill him…”

“Ah, just maim him then.”

“Dolly.” Logans voice called to you. He looked so worried, so sad, his eyes wide and desperate. “Did I… hurt you?”

You nod. “But Logan… It was the nightmare.” You turn to Scott, a hint of indignation you couldn’t help for him accusation to Logan, but a softness because someone, someone cared enough to notice. “He was having a nightmare. He scratched me in his sleep when I tried to wake him.”

Once again unreadable, Scotts voice was careful. “You don’t have to defend him. You can-”

“Respectfully, Mr. Summers,” You said, letting go of Remy in favor of approaching Logan and taking his hand. “I’ve survived abuse once. I told people then, they didn’t believe me but I told them. I would do it again if Logan did that. But from Logan’s point of view, you were pulling at my clothing. So I think its best both of you sweep this under the rug as a misunderstanding.” You walk away, taking Logan with you. “Logan and I are about to miss the last dance.”

After

“You’re missing the dance.”

“Can’t wear anything that won’t show them I’m pregnant.”

It was prom, and you had organized another dance for it. Months of work, and you couldn’t even see your students dresses. Everything nice enough to chaperone would be too tight, thanks to the slight bump. You didn’t know Logan would be back so soon, but him and Kurt returned this evening. Under the blankets, you feigned sickness to Remy, asking him to attend the ball in your stead, show your students the love you wanted to give.

Your first year here was almost done, and you were sure once the pregnancy came out you’d be fired. You couldn’t expect Charles to put the baby through daycare.

The room was dark, but the glow of the TV illuminated Logan as he sat on the chair with a heavy sigh.

“How's the girl?” You ask.

“She’s gonna need a lot of rest and food and she’s on an IV but… she’ll make it. Seems happy to be here. Kurt and her got along well.”

“Good.” The Tv drowned out the quiet, Bobs Burgers again. “You know, I don’t understand half of this show sometimes. Pop Culture references I don’t get. Like, who is queen Laytifa? Who is Bruce Springsteen? I don’t know.”\

A beat. “If it makes you feel better, I don’t get a lot of the jokes either.”

You give a small chuckle. “It kinda does. At least I have an excuse.”

Logan gives you a moment before asking. “How are you been since i left.”

You try to think of an honest answer. “Morning sickness is terrible. Nightmares are worse than ever, but Remy’s helped me. I’m too fat for some of my clothes already. Not going great, honestly.”

“Dolly,” He huffs, “We need to get you into a-”

“A doctor. I know. School’s out in two weeks.” You take a deep breath and release it slowly. “I’m teaching a few summer classes and the literature club is meeting through the summer but… I’m free at noon every day. We can go, I guess.”

Logan’s heart leap, relieved to finally get you and his baby medical care once again. He knew this was difficult for you, you never went to doctors for anything this whole school year.

“Is it a naturopathic thing? Like you guys didn’t believe in science.”

You groan, covering your face with a blanket. “Why do you think we’re friends, Logan? I’m not talking to you about my life like this!”

Frustrated and tired, he tugged the blanket back down. “”I just wanna take care of you, dolly!”

“After you raped me!” Your words hung in the air, bitter on your tongue, but more spilled out. “I- I was pregnant once. I think. It was too early to test but I just… knew. And then he beat me. It was… it was so bad, Logan. I’ve never known pain like that. And then I started bleeding. I tried to tell a doctor I was being abused…” You willed yourself not to cry this time. “But he told me…”

You think back to that night, your eyes pinched shut as you recounted it to Logan. Everything hurt. You wanted a female doctor but your husband insisted on seeing a family friend. When you were alone you tried to say no, you didn’t fall that he did this too you. You tried to say that you made you miscarry!

‘Do you know what the laws are for abortion here, ma’am?’

His question stunned you.

‘Uh… illegal?’

You didn’t really know.

‘Legal in some circumstances, unfortunately. But illegal outside of medical performance, and we don’t know how far along you are.’

‘I’m only-’

‘Whose to say. My point is, how are we to know you didn’t try to skirt around the law and end your own pregnancy?’

You couldn’t take the TV anymore. Too loud, too bright. You turn it off, getting up to open the window for fresh air. Through the crack, music from the prom spilled in, Glitter in the Air. 

Logan’s arms wrapped around your waist, burying his hair in your face and you wanted to pull away. You wanted to scream. But you also wanted Logan to just be your Logan again. Maybe he was? You had missed him, even now after everything you missed him. You wanted to be with him. 

“Dance with me, Dolly. Even if it’s our last.”

So you danced with him. And it was not the last.

But Charles returned for graduation, and you needed to make a choice what to do.

WOW THANK YOU SOSOSOSOSOOSOSOSOSO much!!!!!

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[awkward-walking-potato]

Can I request a one shot for how Remy showing off his magic tricks to his gender neutral crush who is genuinely fascinated by it please?

Sleight of Hand and Heart

Remy LeBeau, with his signature cocky grin, held out a deck of cards between two fingers, shuffling them with practiced ease. His red-on-black eyes never left yours, enjoying the way your eyes followed each flick and spin of the cards.

“Pick a card, any card,” he said in that smooth Cajun accent of his.

You tried to suppress your smile, knowing full well he was showing off, but you couldn’t help it. It wasn’t just the charm; there was something about the way Remy handled the cards that genuinely fascinated you. It was like the cards were an extension of him, moving fluidly as if they had a life of their own.

With a hesitant grin, you reached forward and picked a card from the deck, holding it close to your chest.

Remy’s eyebrow arched, his grin widening. “Now, don’t be shy, mon ami. Show me whatcha got.”

You flashed the card toward him quickly — the seven of hearts — but pulled it back just as fast. Remy’s expression remained unreadable, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

He spread the deck in one hand, face down, and tapped the cards. “Slide it back in.”

You slipped the card back into the middle of the deck, eyes glued to his hands as they moved with practiced precision. He shuffled the cards again, tossing them in the air, catching them effortlessly. You watched, captivated by how smoothly his fingers danced over the cards.

He winked at you and snapped his fingers. “And voilà.”

Reaching behind your ear, Remy pulled out the seven of hearts, holding it up between his fingers with a triumphant smirk.

Your jaw dropped. “How did you…?!” You couldn’t help but laugh in disbelief. “Seriously, how did you do that?”

Remy chuckled, clearly pleased with your reaction. “A magician never reveals his secrets. But maybe…” He tilted his head slightly, his eyes studying you as if he were considering something. “Maybe for you, I can make an exception.”

Your eyes lit up. “You’d teach me?”

He grinned, clearly enjoying your fascination. “Course I will. Ain’t often I find someone as curious about the art of deception as me.”

Remy motioned for you to come closer, holding out the deck of cards. “First thing you gotta know ‘bout magic is that it’s all ‘bout misdirection. Keepin’ their eyes on one hand while the other’s doin’ all the work.”

You stepped closer, your shoulder brushing his as you watched his hands move. His touch was gentle as he adjusted your grip on the cards, his fingers guiding yours.

“Now, shuffle,” he instructed, his breath warm against your ear.

You attempted to mimic his fluid movements, but the cards slipped awkwardly from your hands, falling onto the floor in a messy heap. You groaned, crouching down to pick them up, feeling a flush of embarrassment creep up your neck.

Remy laughed softly, crouching down beside you to help. “Don’t worry, it takes time. Ain’t no one started out a master.”

You glanced at him, cheeks flushed, but his expression was kind, not mocking. For someone as skilled and charming as Remy, you had expected a little more teasing, but he seemed genuinely invested in teaching you.

Once the cards were back in your hands, he guided you through the process again, showing you how to control the deck, how to palm a card without anyone noticing. You watched his hands closely, trying to memorize every flick of his fingers.

“Like this?” you asked, holding the deck in one hand and attempting a shuffle.

Remy nodded, a proud grin spreading across his face. “There ya go, now you’re gettin’ it.”

You beamed, thrilled by the progress you were making. It wasn’t just about learning card tricks anymore — it was about the way Remy’s patience and encouragement made you feel like you could do anything.

“Okay, now the real fun starts,” he said, taking the deck from you again. “Lemme show ya how to pull off that trick I did earlier.”

You leaned in closer, eager to learn, as Remy walked you through the sleight of hand. His explanations were clear, but the way he kept glancing at you from the corner of his eye made your heart race. You couldn’t help but notice the way he seemed more focused on your reactions than on the cards.

After a few tries, you attempted the trick, and while it wasn’t as smooth as Remy’s, you managed to pull it off. You grinned triumphantly, holding up the card you had just ‘magically’ revealed.

Remy clapped, his smile wide. “Look at that, you’re a natural!”

You laughed, feeling a warm rush of pride. “I had a good teacher.”

Remy’s gaze softened at that, the teasing tone fading as he looked at you a little longer than usual. “Maybe,” he said quietly, “but you got more talent than ya think.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, and for a moment, the cards and magic tricks were forgotten. There was something about the way he was looking at you, something more than just the playful banter you were used to. You swallowed, suddenly feeling nervous under his gaze.

“I… I’ve never really been good at stuff like this,” you admitted, your voice quieter now. “But with you… it feels different.”

Remy tilted his head, his eyes never leaving yours. “That so?”

You nodded, feeling the tension in the air shift, the playfulness between you giving way to something deeper. “Yeah… I guess I’m just fascinated by you.”

Remy’s smile softened into something more sincere, his voice low and intimate. “Guess I’ve been fascinated by you too.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and for a moment, the world seemed to slow down. There was no magic trick to distract you, no cards to hide behind. It was just you and Remy, standing close, sharing a moment you hadn’t expected.

And as Remy took your hand, guiding your fingers through one last trick, you realized that maybe, just maybe, you had found something more magical than any card trick he could teach you.

[she-wolf09231982]

Chapter 1-Black Penny

Summary: You grew up in the hustle and bustle of a city most of your life, so you packed your few belongings and headed straight to New Orleans. You hoped to live a simpler, quieter life on the Historic French Quarter. By day during the week, you helped manage Marie Laveau’s House of Voodoo Shop and by nightfall you tended bar at Black Penny on the weekends.

You were aware mutants existed, and believed them to be just as ordinary as you but only with extraordinary abilities. After living a few years in NOLA, you had a knack of picking them out in a crowd and treated them no differently than you’d treat anyone else. You had many run in’s with mutants on Bourbon Street, but none as impactful as the day you ran into Remy LeBeau.

A/N: Character Intro, She/Her Pronouns, GambitX!FemaleReader, GambitX!NonMutant, RemyLeBeauX!FemaleReader, Mutants, Post Deadpool and Wolverine, Post Void, New Orleans, Alcohol, Pining, Creole/French to English Translation

(c) - Creole

(f)- French

*I just want to disclose I am not a comic expert. Gambit/Remy LeBeau is very new to me and I’m doing my best to stay genuine to what I’ve researched online or from what I’ve seen in the D&W movie. I’m aware there was a HUGE controversy over his heavy accent/dialect and over his eye color in the movie, so I tried to incorporate both versions of each in my stories to satisfy everyone’s preferred Gambit/Remy style. (Personally, I loved Channing Tatum’s accent in the movie ☺️) I’m also cognizant that Gambit and Rogue are an item in the comics, but for sanity sake, Rogue will be a pastime only mentioned in passing if absolutely necessary so I don’t have to study in depth another character I’m unfamiliar with. (I need some brain space for real life stuff, too 😅) Anyway, I’m doing my maximum effort over here writing for Gambit/Remy, so when I do post my developing Gambit story, please, if you have comments or criticisms that don’t benefit anyone else’s appreciation of these fanfics, keep them to yourself and let the rest of us enjoy it. Thanks so much*

♠️♥️♣️♦️

It was a particularly busy night at Black Penny. As live bounce music and jazz blared from the stage, patrons dance and socialize carelessly with each other while you hotfoot from one end of the bar to the other serving up shots and beers.

You approach a man waiting patiently, his face downward hovering over a stack of playing cards.

“What can I getchya?” You ask him.

He began twirling an ace of spades between his fingers.

“(c) Kisa mwen ka jwenn pou ou?” You repeat.

The man lifted his gaze to meet yours with a mischievous grin stretching across his face. An eerie magenta glow softly radiated from his irises causing your jaw to drop. Your stunned reaction spurred him, causing his smile to widen and his eyes to glow brighter as the whites of his eyes began to blacken.

“….woah.” You say under your breath.

The man chuckled, “(c) Ou dwe padone Gambit, cheri (You must pardon Gambit). When his eyes see somethin’ so (f)dulcet (beautiful), it be hard to hide it.”

You shook your head to refocus, “No need to apologize. This is a safe space for everyone. Just caught me off guard is all.”

You flash him a smile and a wink as he returned one to you, the whites of his eyes returning to ‘human’ version of normal and his irises became a shade of icy green.

“Nobody be lookin’ at me like dat wit’out runnin’ off. You weren’t scared?”

“Of course not. Takes a lot more than a pair of flashy eyes on a handsome face to scare me away.” You state.

He laughed as he adjusted in his seat.

“Dats good, dats good.” He said as he leaned forward on the surface of the bar.

“What are you drinking, Gambit?” You ask again.

“Sazerac. (c) Mèsi, cheri. (Thank you, darling).”

You bring the gentleman a rocks glass fixed neat with the amber-red reserve bourbon. He gingerly raised the glass to his nose, inhaling the oak wood barrel scent with hints of cherry, caramel, apples, and tobacco.

He hummed with satisfaction, “(c) Manyifik (Magnificent).”

You nod, then turn to walk away.

“Remy.” You hear him call to you.

“Pardon?” You say as you turn back to him.

“The name’s Remy LaBeau.” He reiterated cooly after taking a sip from his glass.

He averted his eyes to you, awaiting your name. You grin back.

“Y/F/N.”

“(c) Kontan rankontre ou, Y/F/N (Pleased to meet you).”

You feel your face go red as you laugh nervously.

“Same.” You managed to say before scurrying to the other end of the bar to wait on other customers.

♠️♥️♣️♦️

Remy sat quietly in his spot at the bar the entire evening, only ever looking up from his deck of Mavericks to catch a glance of you as you pass him. The crowd started to thin out as last call was announced.

“One for the road, Remy?”

He beamed at you, “Oui, cheri. If you join me for one.”

You smile coyly, “I gotta close up, chief. How about this; I’ll bring you another Sazerac on the house, and I’ll take a rain check?”

You see the magenta glimmer in his eyes again.

“I like the soun’ of dat, cheri.”

You smile and nod then turn to the counter behind you to prepare his drink. You set it in front of him as he placed a $100 in front of you.

“You only had two. That’s too much.”

“(c) Pran li (Take it). For your generosity an’ da company.” Remy insisted.

You beam at him, “(c) Ou twò janti (You’re too kind).”

He stood up from his stool, and fixed his collar on his leather trench.

“Until next time, mon cher.” He said smiling while standing tall opposite you.

“Orevwa, Remy. I’ll see you around.” You reply sweetly as you feel your cheeks heat up again.

“(c) Mwen pwomèt ou pral (I promise you will).” He purred in his heavy honeyed Cajun accent.

He bowed, then turned on his heel to exit the bar. You released a deep exhale as if you hadn’t taken a breath since having met him that night.

♠️♥️♣️♦️

*I know this was a short one and I plan on a chapter 2. I’m just dipping my toe in the water here to see what feedback I get* 🥰

[pandapetals]

Poker

professor logan howlett x professor fem!reader - established relationship (y'all married), cute, fluff, teasing, no y/n used, no reader description, your an english professor, logan is a history professor - imagine days of future past logan with the white streaks in his hair

You and the X-Men play poker.

a/n: Inspired by @sixwingedholy art. This is my first time sort of writing for remy so hopefully it’s not out of character.

read on ao3 or find more parts for the series: here

"Sugar, you sure you wanna play with us?" Rogue asked with a playful smirk, her eyes sparkling with mischief as you settled into the empty chair next to Logan at the poker table.

You arched an eyebrow, matching her smirk. "I know how to play poker if that’s what you’re getting at," you shot back, already reaching for the deck to shuffle it.

Hank chuckled from across the table, leaning back in his chair with an amused expression. "I don’t think that’s what she meant," he said, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Let’s just say things can get a little… unpredictable around here."

"Unpredictable?" Remy scoffed, shaking his head as he started dealing the cards. "You mean downright chaotic, mon ami. Especially when some people don’t know when to fold." He shot a pointed glance at Logan.

Logan grunted, leaning back in his chair with a half-smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You talkin’ about yourself, Cajun?" he drawled, picking up his cards with a lazy flick of his wrist. "Because last time I checked, you were the one who lost his shirt—literally."

"Hey, that was strategy," Remy shot back, narrowing his eyes as he threw a chip into the pot. "Keepin' you all distracted, non?"

Rogue rolled her eyes, reaching over to give Remy a light shove. "Sure, if 'strategy' means gettin’ beat by a bunch of amateurs," she teased, glancing over at you with a wink. "Though I gotta say, sugar, you’ve got Logan as your partner in crime here. Don’t let him lead you astray."

Logan’s eyes flicked to you, a glint of challenge there as he took a slow sip of his beer. "Oh, don’t worry about her," he said, setting his drink down and shooting you a sideways glance. "She can handle herself just fine. Question is, can you all handle us? "

Hank snorted, arranging his chips in neat little stacks. "Bold words, Logan. But I do recall you losing quite spectacularly the last time we played. If I’m not mistaken, you blamed it on the 'damn cards.'"

Logan shot him a glare, though there was a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "They were bad cards. And that was a fluke."

"Uh-huh, sure," you said, trying to suppress a laugh as you threw in your own chip to call the bet. "I’ll believe that when I see you win a hand without growling at the cards."

Remy leaned over the table, eyes twinkling as he dealt the flop. "Let’s make it interesting, then," he said, grinning like a cat with a canary. "How ‘bout a side bet? Loser has to do something… embarrassing. Like serenading the winner."

Rogue clapped her hands together in delight. "Oh, I like that idea. I’d pay good money to hear Hank belt out a tune."

Hank’s cheeks flushed slightly, and he cleared his throat. "Well, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I happen to have an excellent poker face."

Logan snorted. "Yeah, Hank, your poker face is about as good as Remy’s ability to stay quiet."

"Hey, now," Remy protested, holding his hands up in mock defense. "My mouth keeps the game lively, mon ami. Otherwise, it’s just a bunch of serious faces sittin’ around waitin’ to lose."

You glanced at your cards, then at Logan, who gave you a barely perceptible nod. "Well, I’m all in," you said, pushing your chips to the center. "I guess we’ll see who’s serenading who."

"Big words for a rookie," Rogue teased, but there was a flicker of surprise in her eyes as she glanced between you and Logan. "You two got a plan I don’t know about?"

"Wouldn’t you like to know," you replied, feeling the adrenaline buzz through you as the chaos of the game unfolded. The cards were turned, chips were thrown, and the banter flowed as easily as the drinks.

Remy grinned, throwing in a stack of chips. "Let’s see what you’ve got, chérie. I’m feelin’ lucky."

As the final card was revealed, you and Logan exchanged a knowing look. He leaned in slightly, his voice low. "Ready to show 'em how it’s done, darlin'?"

You smirked, flipping your cards over to reveal a winning hand. "Looks like someone’s gonna be doing a little singin’," you said, your gaze landing on Remy, whose jaw had dropped in mock horror.

Rogue burst into laughter, clapping her hands together. "Oh, this is gonna be good. What song are you takin’ requests for, Remy?"

Hank joined in, a grin spreading across his face. "I’ve got a few suggestions if you’d like to start with something classic."

Remy held up his hands in surrender, shaking his head with a rueful smile. "Alright, alright. I’ll sing, but I won’t promise it'll be pretty." He looked at you and Logan, shaking his head in disbelief. "You two been plannin’ this all along, huh?"

Logan grinned, a glint of mischief in his eye. "Let’s just say we make a good team."

As the table dissolved into laughter and arguments over which song Remy would butcher first, you felt Logan’s knee bump against yours under the table—a subtle, wordless acknowledgment of your shared victory. He shot you a look, one that was equal parts pride and amusement, and you couldn’t help but grin back, feeling like the luckiest player in the room.

[fandomzwriterk]

Another part of F.R.I.E.N.D.S please!! I loved the story. I really wanna see what’d happen if we ended up with Remy:333

A/N: hey I’m glad! I don’t think I’m a good writer at all but I’ll try my best on this👍 (FYI I was listening to Poison sooooo… 😅) Also I apologize for taking so long I got caught up in stuff 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

F.R.I.E.N.D.S pt3 Finale

“You fucking-“ Jean started

Scott kicked Jean’s chin, sending her neck back while some of the roof held her down. Logan desperately tried to claw his way out to Jean, but his body from the shoulders down was crushed under the rubble. Morph was unconscious, not moving a single inch as Logan and Jean tried to fight their way out. Scott was smiling all the while, seeing you on your knees with all of your friends helpless to save you. He had you right where he wanted you. You turned around, feeling Scott’s presence behind you as he walked up put an arm around your waist.

“I swear mon amí you are not gonna like it when I-“

Scott kicked Remy in the ribs, who was still tied down to the chair at your feet.

“Let him go Scott. Let them all go.” You begged

“Shut up my darling you’re really starting to get on my nerves.”

Scott picked you up and threw you behind him, straight into a brick wall as hard as he could. He wanted you alive, so he had to incapacitate you any way he could.

“You son of a bitch!” Remy yelled, his accent getting heavier the more Scott laid a hand on you

Your body hurt, every limb and bone sore from the impact. It was like everything was crushed inside you. You couldn’t stand, falling right back to the ground with a grunt. Scott rendered you immobile, your vision just starting to blur as you watched Scott walk slowly up to Remy.

“Hands off of her Scott.” Logan grumbled

“This isn’t y-you.” Morph silently added

Morph was alive, and Logan seemed to be okay as well. You could hear their voices sound like you were underwater as the last thing you saw before you closed your eyes was the fear on Jean’s face.

You aren’t dying that easily

Your eyes snapped open, your body slowly repairing itself as you could feel every fiber in your own body get stitched back together. Your bones becoming whole again, your muscles growing stronger as everything came back together. It was a matter of mere seconds. What had just happened?

“What the-“

“Ha! That’s my cherié for you!” Remy teased at Scott

You felt anger in your heart, staring at Scott with all the hate you could muster. You felt… stronger?

“Take this you son of a bitch!” You screamed

Hot beams of energy shot from your eyes, directed right at Scott. It was as if Scott’s own move had been used against him. You aimed again, making Scott dodge each one. You fired at the rubble holding your friends down, which opened the opportunity for Logan and Morph, who was now turned into Beast, to get Scott under control. Your attention turned to Remy, his shit eating grin smiling at Scott.

“You are, as they say, fucked mon amí.”

A card flew from Remy’s pocket, going straight to your dominant hand. You could feel Remy’s kinetic energy flow through not only the card, but through you as well. The card duplicated itself, making a pair. Your hand flicked the cards away, sending both cards right at Remy. They cut into the rope holding him to the chair, now having freed everyone. Remy was smiling at you, he couldn’t be more proud of you in this moment.

“What’re we gonna do ‘bout him?” Logan asked having himself and Morph hold Scott down.

“You mother fuckers when I get my hands on you I swear I will get my revenge!”

Scott swore into the air, struggling to get away but Logan was stronger, having fully recovered from the injuries earlier.

“You okay Y/n?” Jean asked as you slowly walked up

Your body was shaking as you walked, almost as if you were drunk. Your vision still a little blurry, but you could see Remy running to help you stand. Your body began to feel normal, but very slowly. You could feel your bones get shifted back into place, your spine realigning itself. Your cuts slowly closed, just leaving very small wounds that almost looked like paper cuts.

“I think so. Is everyone okay?”

“Just peachy kid so thanks for asking.” Logan spoke half annoyed

“I didn’t know you were a Mutant Y/n.” Jean added

Logan and Morph got Scott to stand, effectively keeping his arms behind him like his personal handcuffs. Scott’s eyes were still staring at you with need and desire, waiting for you to come save him. At least, he thought you would.

“Come on let’s get this one somewhere.” Remy spoke up as you all walked out of the broken warehouse

It took some time, but Magneto was quick with Rogue and Storm behind him. He had military get Scott into a holding cell that could be transported to safe location away from humanity like any other criminal. You felt a lot better as you all slowly made your way to the Mansion.

“Well I’m going to sleep until my headache is gone so don’t try and wake me up.” Morph groaned as he walked through the door

“Hey you guys are back! Y/n are you okay?” Jubilee asked

Jubilee, Beast, and Roberto stayed behind, not wanting to risk anyone else getting caught into the fight, especially since Jubilee and Roberto were young. You nodded, feeling a little sense of pride from having put Scott in his place.

“I figured out what your ability is Y/n.” Beast spoke as he came up to you and Remy, who were sitting on the couch with everyone else except Morph around you.

“Is it dangerous?” You asked a little scared

“No. Not at all. You are perfectly fine.”

“And?” Remy asked

“Oh yes well it appears that you, Y/n, can copy anyone’s ability.”

“Huh? Copy? You sayin that’s how she healed so fast, not to mention the laser thing Scott does?” Logan asked

“That’s right. I was always researching while you all trained and well, after today, my theory was correct.”

“So I can copy anyone?” You asked

“Well so far you’ve copied three of ours, that being Scott’s, Remy’s, and Logan’s.” Jean added

“Logan’s? How? I didn’t-“

The hyper healing, that’s the other half of Logan’s ability. Regeneration and claws able to break through anything. It was the ability to repair yourself in seconds, just like Logan could. You could also feel the anger in rise and fall as you healed and attacked Scott back, and maybe that was the other half of the regeneration process.

“I healed myself… and the rage. I can do whatever it is that someone else can do.”

Beast and Jean nodded, looking to everyone else in the room.

“Well seems we gotta another one in the family now.” Jubilee joked

“And I wouldn’t have it any other way.” You answered as you leaned against Remy, feeling exhaustion overtake your senses

The End!

A/N: holy crap I hope I didn’t botch this story. Anyways yeah I hope you all enjoyed!

[nyxnightshade7656]

Hooked

I'm not dead, I swear, things have been insane irl. Here's what I guess would be the first chapter of something that was NOT meant to be a multichapter thing. But, ya know. I have no self control and here we are.

She looked around the hallway to make sure she was alone and would have ample time to accomplish her goal. When she saw that the coast was clear, she made a mad dash for her target. She very carefully shut the door behind her before she spotted her target. Storm’s bed. With no fanfare, she placed a handmade, crocheted, stuffed kitten on Storm’s bed. The yarn it was made out of was soft and fluffy, as well as easily washable and durable. She had picked out colors to reflect Storm’s X-Man uniform but had given the stuffed kitten bright blue eyes to match Storm’s.

Once the precious cargo was delivered, she darted from the scene of the crime. She hid in the library for a while, before she made her way to the common area. As she crossed the threshold from the hallway into the room proper, she paused.

“It seems I have been graced by our reverse thief as well.” Storm’s voice was full of warmth and amusement. It made her heart flutter with joy and a smidge of pride.

“Oh? What did you get?” Instead of answering, Storm held up the little kitten that had been stealthily delivered.

“Someone is puttin’ an awful lotta effort into this, ain’t they? Jean gets a phoenix, Logan got a wolf, Cyclops got a labrador, Hank got an owl, Kurt got a racoon, I got a tiger, and the professor got an elephant. Why ain’t they tryin’ ta take credit for this?” Rogue’s voice sounded both appreciative and annoyed. Clearly, Rogue didn’t like not knowing who was sneaking the handmade gifts into their rooms.

She was just starting to think that she should make herself scarce; not trusting herself to not give away her little secret, when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She nearly jumped out of her skin in surprise, a startled squawk escaping her without her permission. She whirled around, only to be greeted by fuchsia and blue chest armor. She gulped and looked up, up, up to see the mirth-filled red-on-black-eyes of one “Gambit”, or Remy LeBeau.

“Whatchu up ta, Chere? Sneakin’ ‘round like ya t’ink y’a’int ‘sposed to be here.” His tone was teasing, but his question, she could tell by the emotions rolling off him, was very genuine. She flailed, hands flying as she tried to deny, without words, that she was sneaking around. In her enthusiastic pantomiming, that could best be described as ‘frantic, spastic vertical seizing’, she tripped over her own feet in a spectacular display of clumsiness. There was a cacophony of noise, she didn’t see what was happening since she had closed her eyes the instant she’d started to fall; and then suddenly she felt something warm wrap around her wrist. Then she was yanked into something hard and warm.

“Woah dere, Petit, wassamattah, ol’ Gambit scare ya? Didn’ mean to, ya know ol’ Gambit’s harmless.”

Harmless. Yeah, sure. Tell that to her rapidly beating heart and her near full-body blush that had to be redder than Jean’s hair. Just as she was about to try and charade her way out of an explanation, Storm came to her rescue, “Now, Gambit, stop teasing the poor child.” Gambit gently released her, but not before making sure her feet were solidly planted on the ground. As soon as she was released, she squeaked, and bolted. She could hear the others calling for her, but she just ran to her room.

She all but slammed into the door of her room, stumbling across the threshold, and kicked  the door shut in her haste to just disappear. She had the stupidest crush on the card-slinging mutant, and it seemed like everyone but Gambit himself knew it. Kurt was relentless in his teasing of her about it, even Rogue poked at her a bit. Logan had brought it to her attention, asking her ‘Of all the mutants here, the Cajun? Really? I guess it could be worse. You could have a crush on Scott.’ To which she had thrown about twenty stuffed animals at her father in retaliation. Logan had been nice enough not to use his claws on the fluffy projectiles, though he had grumbled at her about it.

She flopped onto her bed, which honestly was more of a nest of the softest blankets she could find, a mass of about ten pillows of varying sizes, and more stuffed animals than should be able to fit in one space. Most of which were hand made. She had a guilty little secret that only her adoptive father, Logan, knew. She loved to crochet. And she loved to give gifts to people she cared about. As evidenced by the mass of stuffies on her bed and flung around her room. She also had an entire wall in her room dedicated to bookshelves. But those shelves were not filled with books. Instead, they housed her yarn collection. Logan liked to joke, privately, that she had two hobbies. Crocheting, and collecting yarn.

Originally, she had been kept away from the life of the X-Men in an effort to try and keep her safe and unknown. But being kept away from the school did not mean she was not watched. Logan had learned she’d been attacked by both anti-mutant extremists and some not so nice mutants on more than one occasion and just about lost his mind. He had single-handedly packed up her entire life and moved her into the mansion. The X-Men, to their credit, hadn’t even batted an eye and had taken her in without a second thought. Kurt, Rogue, Jean and Scott were almost like siblings, and Storm was the mother that she never had. As such, she had set about learning what animals were their favorites, or if she couldn’t figure that out, she made something that she felt represented them. Like the wise owl for Hank whom she looked up to like an Uncle. But the one person that she was struggling the most with what to make, was Remy.

She groaned into her pillow. One of them anyway, and flopped over to stare at ceiling, “I am SUCH an idiot.” She mumbled, her voice hoarse from lack of use. Her room, when no one was there, was the only time she spoke, and even then that was rare for fear of someone walking by her door. The last thing she wanted to do was accidentally charm someone with her power. The fear was very real, and had an iron grip on her. That fear was what drove her to be silent. Not even Logan got to hear her voice. She shook her head and looked around her room, before she heaved a sigh.

Nothing was going to really help in here, she knew. Thankfully, she was mostly left to her own devices, not being an ‘official’ member of the X-Men, she didn’t have to participate in the Danger Room sessions, though she had snuck in to watch a couple with the Professor. It was easy to interact with Xavier, since he was a telepath, she didn’t have to speak, or resort to her phone’s text-to-speech app. But she tried to keep even that to a minimum since she didn’t want her other mutation to potentially affect anyone hanging around in her head. She struggled living there most days as it was, no need to torture others with it.

She grabbed her phone and earbuds, threw on some flipflops, and then, in an ill-advised move, she opened her window and vaulted over the sill and onto the ground about five feet below. She put her earbuds in, turned on her Spotify to a random saved playlist, and went walking, hands in her pocket. Being raised by Logan, she knew how to track. She was shit with directions, but she could navigate fairly well with landmarks or distinct features. She had been grumpy and annoyed with the lessons growing up, but now she was grateful for them. It helped her find places to hide away from the overly loud and overwhelming mansion.

Once she was far enough away from the mansion that she couldn’t feel the oppressive feelings of the other inhabitants pressing in on her, she let out a deep sigh of relief. She loved her dad, she did; and she knew that he meant well. But she had lived alone, or only with him, for a reason. Too many people were overwhelming for her. She had learned that she and Rogue were similar, in that neither of them could turn their power off like most mutants could.

The difference between them was that Rogue’s power centered around touch. Hers affected the mind. As an Empath, she could feel other people’s emotions as if they were her own; or push her emotions into someone else and make them feel what she wanted them to. The trade off to that was that too many emotions coming from too many people could overwhelm her. Or, the more concerning option, someone’s emotions could influence her into behaving completely differently than what she normally would, because she couldn’t always tell the difference between what she was actually feeling, and what someone else’s feelings were causing her to feel.

Combine her Empathy with her secondary mutation, the Siren’s Song, and she was a walking disaster waiting to happen. Her Empathy she had been born with, but the Siren’s Song she had developed when she hit puberty. Just like her Empathy, she was unable to turn it off; as long as she made sound that required her vocal chords, her Song was active. Like the Siren’s in Greek mythology, she could charm with her voice, be it just speaking or singing, anyone and anything with the ability to hear her, or with even base instincts, would fall under her thrall. She despised it.

She rubbed her throat in remembered pain as she finally came to a stop somewhere deep in the woods surrounding the mansion. She had found this place shortly after she had been moved into the mansion, desperate to get away from the swirling chaos of emotions. This also was one of the few places that she felt that she could let her voice free. It affected the animals around her, but animals she could make sure not to hurt. Humans were considerably harder since their minds and emotions were more like webs, instead of the simple little creaks and streams that belonged to creatures that operated more on instinct than ‘intelligent’ thought processes.

She spent hours out in the forest. So long, in fact, that the sun had set and her phone and ear buds had ended up dying. She began to make her way back to the mansion, hoping that the majority of the inhabitants were sleeping. She had learned that the emotions of people sleeping were far easier to deal with. When the building came into sight, she could instantly feel the emotions coming off of everyone inside. A few seemed to still be awake, if the intensity of the emotions were to be believed.

[dizziedupthegirl]

. DIZZIE'S XMEN DR: THE FRIENDGROUP .

just a bunch'a 17-20 somethin' year olds that save the world occasionally.

rhylyn howlett; eclipse (designated driver)

remy lebeau; gambit (screams "IS THIS YOUR CARD?!" when drunk)

jaden north; nightmare (here for a good time not a long time)

kurt wagner; nightcrawler (is confused about american antics)

anna-marie; rogue (plans all the parties, outings, and bad ideas)

jubilation lee; jubilee (tagalong little sister, however we all love her)

scott summers; cyclops (dad mom friend™️, has bailed everyone out at least once)

i love my friends 🫶 also featuring: @shiftingwithmars !!

asks are always open! pick from a prompt here, or here, or here! and all my drs can be found here 🥰

[a-roguish-gambit]

Turn of the century au thoughts: forge and gambit

I have an idea I might turn into a comic later.

I have Gambit helping Forge with the danger room but also collect machine parts for fixing things up in the danger room. He has a network of street kids who tell him when something new turns up in scrap yards like engines or sewing machines. He's collected them over time with them spreading the word of the "friendly man with the monster eyes".

He brings them warm sandwiches when he meets up with them and shiny silver dollars if they have a tip for them. He always brings a little extra of both just in case there are new kids from the previous time.

When they are picking stuff up he usually ends up distracted and doting on the kids listening to them about their day and stuff. They use him as a jungle gym, show off neat rocks to him, he shows them card tricks, and if one of the kids have learned something they tell him about it and he acts like they're the smartest kids in the world. He relates to them a lot as his life in the thieves guild was very similar.

Forge makes a comment about how Gambit might make a good dad someday after the kids have gone.

Gambit laughs it off saying "what? A scoundrel like Gambit? A family man? What chu been smokin.... Gambit hardly what anyone consider a good role model...Logan sure don't even see me as the responsible type to say the least!" Then quietly. "Sides...who would want to marry n settle down wit a low down mutant tramp anyways..."

"that rogue girl seems quite fond of you..." Forge responds, "who knows. The world is full of possibilities kid."

Gambit sighs and begins shuffling a deck of cards in his hands "hmp. Sure. Mehbee," he starts with a grown, "But she got a real life ahead o her. once she figure out her powers, ain't nothin gonna stop her. She gonna get to go to college soon, mehbee find a man dere like a lawyer o a scientist. Sumen who can actually lift her up in dis world rather dan a teif on many a folks shit list...she dont need Gambit. Not really. She deserves sumen lot better dan Remy."

Forge rolls his eyes and swats him with his oil rag. "hey stop that. What are you, the lead of a Shakespearean drama?" He responds with a raised eyebrow, "She's with you for a reason. What do you want? To will her away?"

"non..."

"well that's gonna happen if you keep in this 'not good enough' mentality," forge says, "stop worrying about what might happen. Lots of stuff might happen. Hell something from that scrap heap could fall on us and stop us dead in our tracks. Doesn't mean we act like it's going to happen or is even likely too. Focus on the here and now, it's not good for your health to be worrying about what ifs."

Gambit smirks. "Non, das your job Mr safety precaution," he teases, "ya always gotta ask gambit tree times if he did sumtin da way ya wanted afta all."

Forge smiles back. "Absolutely and that's why I don't need you being a worry wart. I don't need my apprentice stealing my job!" He says shoving the Cajun teen playfully, "now help me with this big motor. The things people throw away, eh?"

Gambit chuckles back. "Like Remy could take yo job. Ah mehbee clever an can follow instructions, but gambit can't invent new tings on da spot like you," he says helping lift the large device and carry it over to the truck bed.

"I don't know about that, you are quite good at inventing new ways to annoy Logan," forge jokes.

"das gambits specialty!"

[amischiefofmuses]

that soft, comforting vibe || Accepting

@rcguevariant sent: “Your past mistakes are not who you are.” for Gambit

There's an imperceptible kick up of tension in his shoulders at the remark and his gaze flicks downwards for just a moment, not daring to meet her eyes as though she'd immediately catch the turmoil there if she did, the SHAME he'd been dwelling on in the quiet room. It's a hard thing to shake, he's not sure he ever will but that won't stop him from continuing forward. As stubborn as he is guilt-ridden. But within the gap of a blink, he's smiling, meeting her gaze with a sense of unyielding confidence and the ego of a showman. -- ❝What's got all'a dat on ya' mind, chere? Gambit lookin' like he mopin'?❞ Pulling himself up from where he was sat, he stretches for a moment, then shoots her a wide smile. ❝Can promise s' just from missin' you- been busy today non?❞

[emoprincey]

Roman Needs a Nice Day (Prinxiety)

Summary: What if Roman's nice day went a little differently?

Pairings: Prinxiety

Characters: Virgil, Roman, Remy

Also posted on my ao3: stormofstarlight

Writing taglist: @iclaimedtobethebetterbard

Roman was upset. Anyone could tell. He wasn’t crying – at least in front of the other sides – but he’d been stomping around the mindscape in his high-heeled boots, and wrenching the kitchen cupboards open so forcefully when he went to get a snack that he’d pulled a door off its hinges. When the songs he belted from his room so loudly that even Virgil could hear them through his noise cancelling headphones morphed from Some Day My Prince Will Come and Go The Distance, to Words Fail and Breathe, Virgil knew he had to do something.

Patton seemed to have some success giving Logan a nice day with those notecards – at least once he calmed down a bit – so Virgil figured it would be worth a shot.

Getting Roman to listen to some of his favourite songs again seemed like a solid idea to start with. That might rejuvenate some of his old spark. Once Upon A Dream was an obvious classic, and Virgil knew, one of Roman’s all-time favourites, so he wrote that on the first card. On the second card, he wrote down another song he was sure Roman would appreciate. He’d heard Billy Joel songs being blasted in Roman’s room often enough, and Fall Out Boy had recently released a cover of We Didn’t Start The Fire that Virgil had been dying to show to the other sides.

Virgil ambushed Roman just as he was coming out of the bathroom, and shoved the notecards into his face. When Roman picked the first card, Virgil grinned and dragged him downstairs to listen to the version from one of his favourite films.

“Is this from Maleficent?” Roman asked.

“Yep, it’s the best version,” Virgil said.

Roman chuckled. “Of course you’d say that, emo.”

“Shut up and pick another card,” Virgil said, holding another two out to him. He’d stuck with the Disney theme for one of them. In his 3AM travels down YouTube rabbit-holes, Virgil had seen a few creepypastas he was sure Roman would enjoy. Or, at least, he’d enjoy watching Roman react to them.

But Roman ended up taking the other card. “Get some Starbucks,” he read out, sounding pleased.

Virgil smirked. He knew that one would go down well. If there was one thing Roman loved to do, it was pamper himself, and Virgil knew he liked overpriced iced coffee as much as the next side. Besides, Virgil couldn’t deny that spending the afternoon getting coffee with Roman would be nice. Ugh, that almost sounded sappy. Gross.

“Come on, let’s go!” Roman grabbed Virgil’s hand, and Virgil’s stomach swooped as he sunk them both out to his realm.

“Woah. Still not used to rising up,” Virgil said, clinging to Roman’s shoulder to steady himself when they rose up. Then he looked around himself. The Starbucks in the Imagination was filled with characters the twins had created through the years, though Virgil didn’t recognise many of them. Unfortunately, the barista behind the counter was someone he knew very well.

“Go grab us a table, I’ll get the coffee,” Virgil said. This is Roman’s nice day, this is Roman’s nice day, he reminded himself as he approached the counter.

He noticed the exact moment Remy clocked him. The usually aloof barista froze, holding a dishcloth in one hand and a perfectly polished glass in the other. His expression hardened, and Virgil was sure he was glaring behind his dark sunglasses.

“You’ve got some nerve showing up here, Anxiety,” Remy said, putting the glass down and slinging the cloth over his shoulder.

Of course. Anxiety was the natural enemy of Sleep.

“Look, I’m just trying to give Roman a nice day,” Virgil huffed, gesturing over to the prince, who’d just found a table. Roman waved back cheerily, clearly thinking they were having a pleasant chat. “Can we give this a rest for one afternoon?”

“I don’t know what you mean, I’m always perfectly polite to you,” Remy said. “Now, get out of my fucking shop before I kick you out, okay? Bye.”

“Remy!” Virgil snapped, trying to keep his tone under control. “This is for Ro. Please.”

Remy pushed his sunglasses down his nose, looking at Virgil over the top of them. “Wow, Anxiety using manners for once? You must really be down bad for him.”

Virgil hissed, but he didn’t bother denying it.

Remy gave him a look that bordered on sympathetic, but came across more condescending than anything. “He still oblivious as ever?”

Virgil finally relented, sitting down on one of the barstools. “Tell me about it. Honestly, I don’t think I really have a chance with him.”

Remy sighed, pushing his sunglasses back up. “Listen, hun. You hate me, I hate you, we’ve had this whole bitter enemies thing going on for a while. But let me give you some advice. Sometimes you’ve just gotta take a chance, you know? You won’t get anywhere in life by doubting every move you make. I know – it’s your job. But you need to give yourself some credit. You and Roman, you’ve been through a lot, I’m sure whatever happens, things will work out for you two or whatever.”

Remy waved a dismissive hand as he pushed two iced coffees across the counter to Virgil. He knew all of the sides’ regular orders by now.  

“On the house,” he said, when Virgil reached for his wallet. “Go get him, girl.”

“Thanks, Remy.”

“Don’t say I never did anything for you,” Remy said. “No, actually do. If people find out I have a soft side they might start asking for things.”

“Sure,” Virgil chuckled.

When he got back to the table, Roman reached for the drink with both hands, and took a long sip through the straw.

“What, don’t I even get a ‘thank-you’?” Virgil said.

Roman put down his cup. “Thanks for doing this, Virge. Really. I think I really needed an afternoon off.”

“Oh, uh... no problem, I guess,” Virgil mumbled. Roman was looking at him with such earnest eyes that he had to look away, focusing on the logo printed on one of the napkins – it was just like the regular Starbucks logo, except that the mermaid was wearing sunglasses. “Anyway, pick one of these for when you’ve finished your drink.”

He shoved another two slips of paper towards Roman.

Roman looked surprised, but he took one of the pieces.

“Ooh!” He exclaimed when he looked at it. “Stab stuff with your sword. Oh, I can work with this.”

-----

When they’d finished their coffees, Roman took Virgil’s hand again, and this time there was nothing he could attribute the fluttering in his stomach to other than Roman’s dazzling smile.

“Come on, I’ve got a great place in mind,” Roman said, and he pulled Virgil through the doors of the Starbucks out into the street. Roman waved his hand, and across the empty road another building popped into existence.

“After you,” he said, holding open the door for Virgil.

Inside was a giant room about as big as a warehouse, and it was absolutely filled with things. Pillows and mattresses littered the floor, while crockery, vases and even computers were stacked up on tables. It all looked old and already battered – the computer screens were cracked, and any fabric was faded or torn. It wasn’t an unfamiliar location; Remus had created countless rage rooms in the Imagination when one of the others was upset and needed a way to vent their feelings, but Virgil didn’t think bringing Roman’s brother up would be the best decision at the moment. Still, it was impressive for Roman to conjure all this in just a few seconds.

“Did you just... create all of this?” Virgil asked in wonder as Roman shut the door behind them.

Roman shrugged. “Yeah, I mean... I just kind of imagined it and, well, you know how it works.”

“You know, sometimes you’re kind of incredible,” Virgil mused, still looking around the room.

“Really?” Roman asked. His voice was... smaller than Virgil expected.

“Yeah of course,” Virgil said, “you create so many awesome things.”

“Well, it’s kind of my job,” Roman said, but he was beaming. After a moment, he cleared his throat. “Anyway. We can’t technically get injured by anything in the Imagination, but I know you’re a stickler for this kind of stuff, so...”

Roman snapped his fingers, and suddenly the two of them were wearing protective suits over their regular clothes, with safety glasses covering their eyes. Then he drew his sword.

“And don’t forget the most important bit,” Roman said. He waved his hand, and a battle axe with a purple handle appeared in his grip.

“Wait, you want me to join in too?” Virgil asked incredulously.

“Of course!” Roman grinned. “It’ll be fun to do this together.”

“Alright,” Virgil said, taking hold of the axe. It felt right in his grip, like it was made for him. Well, obviously it was, but something about it felt natural, like he’d been wielding it his entire life. “Let’s do this.”

----

After an afternoon of smashing shit up, Virgil and Roman lay on their backs in the middle of the rage room. The floor was covered in debris, stuffing and down, and Virgil had never felt so satisfied.

“So, you got any more fun things planned for today, emo?” Roman turned his head towards Virgil, his cheeks flushed, and eyes wide with elation.

Virgil took a moment to remember how to speak. Those were all the cards he’d written, but...

Remy’s voice echoed in his ear. Sometimes you’ve gotta take a chance.

If he was taking advice from Remy, he must really be desperate, but before he could chicken out Virgil summoned a pen and two more slips of paper.

“Yeah actually, just give me a second.” He stared down at the paper, wondering if this was a good idea. It was a big step, and there was half a chance Roman wouldn’t even pick the card Virgil was hoping for. Maybe it would be better if he didn’t. But Virgil was taking a chance. He could do this. He hastily scribbled down two options on the cards, and held them out to Roman.

He kept his eyes fixed on the floor as Roman took one.

“Ask crush out for drinks,” Roman read aloud, and Virgil’s breath hitched. This was too real. Roman had picked the card, and Virgil couldn’t back out now. Or maybe he could. He could snatch it back and say he hadn’t meant to write that. He’d eat the paper if he had to. 

But before he could do any of that, Roman’s face broke into a grin.

“Virgil, this is wonderful!” Roman exclaimed.

“It is?” Virgil asked, hearing how short of breath he was.

“Of course! I knew you’d come around and help out Thomas’ romantic life eventually,” Roman said.

Wait, Thomas?

“I’ll get him to ask Nico out for drinks, and I’ll tell him it was your idea!” Roman was practically glowing, in his element, and Virgil felt like kicking himself.

Of course the only crush in Roman’s mind right now would be Nico, after the two of them had helped set Thomas up with him at the mall.

Roman snapped his fingers to clear away his protective clothing, and smoothed out his crumpled prince outfit. “Oh, Thomas...” he sang as he sank out, leaving Virgil alone in the rage room.

Well. That had been a disaster.

----

Over the next few days, Virgil didn’t see much of Roman. Apparently he’d pitched the idea to Thomas, and it had been a great success. Thomas had taken Nico out for drinks at a bar he liked, and it had gone really well. Virgil might even have enjoyed the night, if he hadn’t spent the whole time holed up in his room, only responding remotely to Thomas’ biggest spikes of anxiety.

He shouldn’t be so broken up about this. It wasn’t like this was a rejection, Roman had just misunderstood. And maybe this was better than if he had figured out what Virgil really meant. If Roman had gone running off to Logan or Patton or – God forbid – Janus, Virgil didn’t know how he would have coped.

But, however irrational it was, Virgil felt like shit. He didn’t leave his room other than to grab a few packets of pop tarts from the kitchen, and he spent pretty much the whole time watching conspiracy videos on YouTube.

On the third day of his self-imposed isolation, there was a knock on his door.

That wasn’t surprising. The other sides did usually check on him when he stayed in his room for a while, but with Thomas’ date on top of everything else, they’d all been too busy so far.

Virgil paused the video he was watching, reluctantly dragged himself over to the door, and opened it.

“Roman?”

For some reason, Virgil hadn’t been expecting Roman to be standing outside his room. Patton and Logan were usually the ones who checked up on his wellbeing, and Virgil was suddenly very aware of just how unbrushed his hair was.

But Roman’s expression softened when he saw Virgil. “Hey, Virge. You doing alright?”

“Yeah, sorry. I’ve just been taking a few days to myself. What’s up?” Virgil asked, running a hand through his hair to smooth it down as subtly as he could.

“Well, since you designed such a nice day for me, I thought I’d do one for you too,” Roman said, producing two notecards with a flourish.

Oh. That was... nice of him. Virgil hadn’t been expecting anything in return, but it was nice that Roman thought of him.

He looked between the two card for a moment, before he picked the one on the left.

He read Roman’s red cursive. Then read it again. Then rubbed his eyes, and read it one more time to make sure he hadn’t got it wrong.

Go on a date with me.

“Wha- what it this?” Virgil gasped, snatching up the other card. It said the same thing. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Roman said with a smirk. “I’m asking my crush out for drinks.”

“Wait, you- I’m- What?” Virgil asked again. This was not real. He was dreaming. That was the only explanation.

“When I told Thomas about how you’d actually given me the idea, he, um... suggested you might’ve meant it a different way,” Roman explained, now looking a little sheepish. “Did you mean it this way?”

“Yeah,” Virgil said, steeling his courage. “Yeah, I did. I just didn’t think you’d ever-”

“Ever want to date the hottest, coolest side in the mindscape?” Roman supplied.

“You– I need to be more awake for this conversation,” Virgil decided.

“Well, how about we continue it this evening. Say, over dinner?” Roman asked, unable to hide his grin.

“Sounds good,” Virgil said, grinning back.

[marvelgurl789fanfics]

Remy Lebeau (Gambit) x Child OC

(Remy Lebeau (Gambit) x Rogue)

~Taken Part 5 to Safe~

New Normal (Part 4)

Warning: none

(Not the best at grammar or punctuation)

Summary: A fun day at the mall with Gambit and Fiona turns into a nightmare for Gambit.

Masterlist

The poll for Fiona’s powers has concluded. Thank you all for voting.

~~~~~

Fiona ran into the kitchen still in her pajamas with Gambit close behind her. “Uncle Scott!” Fiona said a bit too loudly hugging Scott’s leg while he was pouring himself some coffee. “Good morning to you too” Scott greeted Fiona with a kind but tired smile. “Let’s let Uncle Scott wake up a bit more before you attack him Mon petit” Gambit chuckled grabbed a mug for coffee himself. Fiona took to calling all the other x men uncle or aunt with the exception of Jubilee who was Big Sissy, Professor Xavier who became Grandpa not that the professor minded the new title, and of course Gambit who remained Papa. Fiona released Scott to cling to Gambit’s leg looking up at him with a pout, “don’t give Père that look, he’s gonna make breakfast” Gambit said earning a giggle from the girl. “Bacon” Fiona announced, “remind père to thank uncle Logan for showing you bacon” Gambit joked knowing it was her new favorite food even outside of breakfast.

A rare time Logan was actually cooking for everyone but decided to make eggs and bacon with toast. Fiona was skeptical of the meat on her plate a first but quickly became addicted finishing her two piece on her plate and Gambit letting her have two more. Fiona reached for the plate of bacon in the middle of the breakfast table before Gambit stopped her. “Gambit knows you like it Mon petit but no more for right now eat your eggs” Gambit said hating to tell her no but worried too much would upset her stomach with the greasiness. With a pout Fiona ate her eggs but her eyes lit up when Logan snuck one more piece of bacon on her plate, Gambit lightly glared at Logan who just had a smug grin and shrugged.

Gambit made breakfast while Fiona greeted everyone who enter the kitchen for breakfast. Soon breakfast was done and everything was sitting eating discussing their plans for the day, while Gambit kept a close eye on Fiona’s bacon intake. “I heard there is a new clothing store opening at the mall today, it’s some popular boutique from LA” Jubilee shared, “sounds fancy” Rogue interest peaked. “Come with me” Jubilee said with a smile, “If you insist” Rogue agreed. “Cher if it’s not too much trouble could you pick up more cards for Gambit, he’s down to his final deck” Gambit asked, “sure thing sugar, but your getting uno cards” Rogue joked getting a fake pout from Gambit. “Why don’t you and Fiona come too it will be fun” Jubilee asked but received a slightly worried look from Gambit and Rogue before realization dawned on her. People could easily tell Fiona’s a mutant.

“I think that’s a great idea” the professor spoke up over the silence that swept over to table, earning a nervous look from most of the x men. “The professor right, she can’t just stay hidden in the mansion forever. There’s a car seat in the garage still that adjusts for her age” Jean agreed with a bit of sadness in her eyes at the thought of her son but kept the smile on her face. “You really think I’d be ok?” Gambit asked the professor while he looked at his little girl too busy eating her food to pay attention to the conversation. “I can’t promise you that Gambit, but Fiona’s still a child and needs to learn to be around others besides us. If anything were to happen she has you, Rogue, and Jubilees there with her. Though she is your daughter now, the choice is ultimately your” the Professor answered with a supportive smile. “What do you think Cher?” Gambit asked his other half, “We could give it a try, but we should have a talk with her first about how some people are” Rogue said trying to reassure him.

After breakfast Gambit with the help of Rogue they tried to explain to Fiona about being a mutant and how some people view them. “You understand sugar?” Rogue asked the child sitting between her and Remy on the couch in the rec room, Fiona nodded her head in understanding. “Any questions?” Gambit asked placing his hand on her head in a comforting manner, “why they hate us?” Fiona asked looking to the two adults for an answer but getting sad smiles. “Père don’t know Mon petit, but I love you so much” Gambit said placing a kiss to her head. “Do you want to go on an outing with us and Jubilee? It will be fun.” Rogue asked the girl trying to convince her. A nod of her head Fiona agreed. “Then let’s get you dressed while your papa set up a car seat for you” Rogue said picking up Fiona carefully.

*****

Fiona’s was jumping around dancing in the entrance way of the X mansion, “Outing, Outing” she chanted excitedly in blue jeans and princess Tiana T-shirt. Tiana quickly became Fiona’s favorite princess once Gambit mentioned he was From New Orleans too. Jubilee laughed at Fiona cute excitement in her signature pink shirt and yellow jacket, while Rogue doubled checked she was covered with her tights and long sleeved dark pink dress and gloves. “Gambit got the car seat set up” Gambit said walking in the mansion having just having installed a car seat for Fiona in the back seat of Rogue’s red convertible. “Looks like we can head out now, took you long enough Cajun” Rogue teased him while grabbing her purse. “Didn’t mean to keep you waiting Cher” Gambit laughed and grabbed Fiona’s small purple hoodie.

“Mon petit calm down, put on your hoodie it’s chilly out there” Gambit smiled kneeling down to Fiona’s height, with some struggling at first Gambit was able to help Fiona put on her hoodie. “You remember what we talked about?” Gambit tone turning to a more serious putting Fiona’s hood up covering most of her face. Fiona nodded her head “You are beautiful Mon petit just some people can’t appreciate that” Gambit said assuringly before standing and putting on the sunglasses that Rogue handed him to cover his eyes. The group head out the door to the car, after getting Fiona bucked up Gambit joined Rogue up Front in the passenger seat while Jubilee sat by Fiona.

The Drive wasn’t too bad Fiona was looking around amazing by everything they drove by. Rogue found a decent spot to park once at the mall, “Want to go with Père or with Rogue and Jubilee” Gambit asked Fiona while helping her out of the car. “Papa” Fiona answered, “ok, stay close to père” Gambit said getting a nod from her. “Meet up at the food court at noon?” Jubilee asked looking at her watch reading 9:30, “works for Gambit” Gambit agreed. “Let’s get going before this new boutique is picked over and all the good stuffs is gone” Rogue said leading Jubilee to their destination. “Père got to pick up more cards then we can look around” Gambit said picking up Fiona walking to the casino supply store he knows has the best price for playing cards, plus the owner doesn’t seem to have a problem with mutants learning that after his sunglasses fell off before in the store.

“Remy should have known you’d be in before too long” The old man sitting behind the counter greeted, “bonjour Frank” Gambit greeted, “who’s this little one, I didn’t know you had a kid” Frank asked giving Fiona a kind wave. Fiona hid herself in the crook of Gambit’s neck earning a light laugh from him. “this is Fiona, still kind of a new thing” Gambit introduced her. “Ah adoption, my son and his wife just adopted a little boy themselves” Frank smiled. “Fiona this is a Friend of Père, this is Frank” Gambit said trying to help her not be so shy, Fiona lifted her head looking at the older man behind to counter but received a surprise look from the man before the smile returned. “It’s very nice to meet you Fiona” Frank said kindly. “Can you grab a few pack of cards for père?” Gambit said setting Fiona down and pointing to a low shelf still in his view, getting a nod and Fiona went on her mission.

“Her parents gave her up to that school?” Frank asked in a whisper, “Non, found the sweet girl in a lab locked in a cage” Gambit said with sadness in his voice. “How can anyone do that to a child?” Frank said and shook his head. “Papa” Fiona said walking back two packs of cards one in each hand holding them up to Gambit, “Merci Mon petit” Gambit smiled taking the packs of cards and placing them on the counter then grabbing 6 more packs himself and checking out tucking the packs away in the inner pockets on his jacket. “It was good to see you again Remy stay safe would hate to lose my best customer, and it was lovely to meet you Fiona” Frank said, “Remy will try” Gambit said while Fiona shyly waved bye.

Fiona held Gambit’s hand even though he had to lean down a bit so she could as they walk around the mall. Gambit let Fiona pull him around letting her explore, but stopped when they reached a carousel Fiona looking at with interest. “What’s that?” Fiona asked eyes sparkling, “it’s a carousel Mon petit, want to go on it?” Gambit asked receiving an eager nod. Walking over to the line of other parents waiting with their children. Soon the line started moving letting the new round of people on board, paying the worker the ride fee once reaching the entrance. Fiona spotted a carousel horse with a horn and pointing out the unicorn to Gambit, “you want to ride this one?” Gambit asked her getting an excited nod he lifted her up and onto the unicorn keeping his hand placed on her back to keep her steady.

The ride started shortly once the last child was seated, Gambit never understood the fun in carousel but knew most children found them fun. Fiona seemed very happy once the ride started to move giggle at the unicorn’s up and down movement, but the carousel came to an abrupt stop making people lose balance. Fiona almost fell but was caught by Gambit but he ended up falling flat on his back taking the impact of the fall keeping Fiona to his chest. It took a few seconds for Gambit to clear his head and register the panic screams around them, standing keeping Fiona safely in his arms he seen Rogue and Jubilee fighting a Sentinel.

Running over to the ride operator booth that was now empty he sat Fiona down, “stay right here” Gambit said in a strict tone that Fiona never heard before she did as told and sat in the corner of the booth hidden. Gambit joined his Teammates in the fight throwing charged card at the Sentinel, “surrender Mutants” the robot announced knocking Rogue from the sky causing her to hit the ground before Gambit could catch her. The sentinel picked up a chunk of wall it had broken and thrown it Jubilee’s direction, Gambit was able to push her out of the way but ended getting hit with the rubble making everything go black.

Waking to being shook awake by Wolverine “Cajun wake up” Wolverine said as Gambit jumped up, looking around confused for a second before the previous event came to him mind. “Where the sentinel?” Gambit asked, “got away” Wolverine said with an aggressive growl in his voice. “Fiona safe?” Gambit asked getting to his feet. Wolverine just looked away from him not answering the question, “where’s Fiona?” Gambit asked again more firmly. “It got her” Cyclops said with a sadden sigh. Gambit froze up completely as if the world stopped, a few months ago before he met Fiona he would have never fathomed this fear, worry and anger that over took him making him feel sick. The pure horror on Gambit face was clear to everyone, “we’ll find her sugar” Rogue said hugged him leaning her head on his shoulder trying to give him comfort despite her own grief. “The Professor already looking through Cerebro, just a matter of time” Jean added placing a comforting hand on his back.

~~~~~

Any suggestions or ideas are welcome. Got other parts planned check out Masterlist.

I don’t know French, all French is from google translate:

Cher (dear)

Mon petit (my little one)

Père (dad/ father)

Bonjour (hello)

Non (no)

Merci (thank you)

Part 6

[silcodependent]

Sway Chapter 7

Silco x Fem!Reader

4.2k words- Mature (but not explicit) 

Warnings: Light BDSM Vibes, Smoke Play, Suggestive Everything

Additional warning: I have doubted my ability to write so much lately that I was convinced that this would never see the light of day. It's mostly unedited but please know that If if had edited it would have stayed in the drafts folder for the rest of time. I want to tell this story, I know exactly where it's going and I'm excited but sometimes I wonder if I am capable of telling it well. So I'm putting this out here to keep me from waiting until it's perfect and posting nothing. I hope you like it and that there are other people who are still as obsessed with this little rat mat as I am.

Silco was bad for business. You knew this from the start but your small number of interactions relentlessly reminded you of this information. Last night was tantalizingly fun. Your dreams after caused you to uproot your whole routine and bumping into him during your practice time was now causing you to be late. The man was infuriating. Infuriating and dangerous.

He simply cannot be forgiven for the agony of inconveniences he is responsible for.

That thought was fresh on your mind when you tossed open your dressing room door to find a surprise that stopped you in your tracks; A single red rose with a black ribbon tied around it and a note.

You should be used to gifts from adoring fans but you always found surprises to be an eerie sign of something grim to come. This was no exception.

Placing your bag down on the opposite side of the counter you inspected the gift before you with learned skepticism, tentatively picking up the note and turning it over in your hand. It was addressed to you, your name scrawled beautifully in ink from a fountain over heavy weighted stationary. Expensive. 

You had been here before. It was enough to make you want to drop the note there with no regard to whatever message lay inside and pack your things as fast as you could.

But you weren’t running. You never ran. That was half of your problem. And even though there were things in your past that wanted to chase you, the likelihood of them finding you here was so small it was next to impossible. Right?

Beating back any other intrusive thoughts, you flipped open the card to reveal a single sentence.

“Thank you for the lovely performance. -Silco”

You stared at the letter in your hand in stunned disbelief for what would have been all night if Remy knocking at the door hadn’t pulled you back to reality.

“Good crowd tonight!” He exclaimed, poking his head through the crack in the door.

Remy’s eyes landed first on the note in your hand and then on the rose on the counter.

“What’s that?” 

“It’s nothing…Just a thank you note.” You’re certain that no one would fall for that performance but it didn’t stop you from trying. You placed the note back down on the counter and proceeded to get ready with haste. Silco was distracting you--again.

“Admirers already. I just wonder what took them this long.” Remy flashed that heart winning grin before disappearing back out the way he came but not before shouting back…

“Tonight’s going to be a great show!”

Remy was wonderful. He really was. Kind, supportive, friendly and he didn’t linger. Who could ask for anything more?

And you had a feeling he was right.

Once your first costume was on and makeup perfectly done, you picked up the rose and reveled in its sweet scent. Of the many stalls lining the streets of the Undercity you had never seen any flowers. Your fingers pulled the silk ribbon from its stem and tied it carefully around your neck. This choker was the perfect finishing touch to such an ensemble. 

Tonight was going to be a great show.

And it was - regardless of how your eyes searched the audience for a particular face each number, never finding it. 

The audience loved every moment. You even managed to create a new group of regulars out of a rowdy table of gentlemen that had posted up in the front row. Your crowd working skills were now rivaling your dancing and it certainly kept things fresh. But once the curtain fell you couldn’t help but let out a little sigh of disappointment. There was no denying that when you had strung that ribbon across your neck, you’d hope to share in a silent understanding. A small nod to your own Phantom that no one else who saw it would even notice. 

It had been a small thing, a silly thing but a mistake nonetheless and one you weren’t willing to repeat. Just another piece of evidence that Silco was distracting and eliciting sentiments that were out of bounds for how you lived your life. This pang of disappointment would serve as a perfect reminder of why you kept these rules in the first place. No investments.

And it did. Days turned to weeks and there was no sign of the infamous Eye of Zaun in the club or in your dreams. He was much harder to banish from your waking thoughts as his note still sat on the counter of your dressing room, but his absence aided you in that regard as well. You had stopped looking for his handsome features in the crowd all together. Life continued. You channeled your energy and debuted a new show with aplomb that had the audience on their feet night after night. It’s amazing what you could accomplish without any unnecessary distractions.

Your focus was at an all time high but that came with some…troubling observations. Silco’s people still came in without him but there was tension growing between them and your front row regulars, a group of three brothers. It was odd. Silco’s operation seemed to be far too big to take issue with these three nobody’s but you had noticed their minute changes in clothing and demeanor over the last couple weeks. They were certainly spending more and more money in the club each night as well. You knew that meant the heart of this dispute had to be business but the less you knew the better. It had already gotten so bad that Remy almost had to call security over a disagreement between the two groups. Things were escalating. 

Remy made every effort to work with them, keep things civil and make sure everyone was welcome here but enforced peace can only last for so long.

It was a slow night Monday night at the Sweet. You had come to show some face and perhaps try out a couple of new combinations on stage with the victrola as accompaniment. It didn’t surprise you at all to see Nox Kane, the youngest of the Kane brothers, occupying his usual table beside the stage. He was already past tipsy and barreling towards drunk with every passing moment. 

Each of the Kane brothers seemed to fancy you in their own way but Nox was the least subtle. All passion and impulse, no restraint--he was a bit of a live wire and often the source of much of the trouble between the two ‘gangs’. But after spending more than one evening talking with him in the club you saw that beneath his raw edges he was sweet, ambitious, devoted to his family, and committed to living life to the fullest. Young without a doubt, and his eldest brother intended to keep it that way. 

Gabriel, the eldest, had grown up working in the mines and was determined to save either of his brothers from such a fate, pushing them into factory work or anything else that kept them out of the fissures. He had opened to you about it once when he had first started coming to the club. The two of you polished off several bottles of champagne without any trouble and completely lost track of time laughing together as the club went from crowded to nearly empty. He told you about his brother’s and how he wanted to make sure that they never had to struggle to survive like he had in the early days. He also mentioned in vague terms that he was onto something now that would make it so none of them would have to go back to the factories, let alone the mines. That they would finally be given the better life he had always hoped and worked for. Gabriel’s green eyes were a light that night with the promise of the future. A future you were sure would have had a spot in it for you had you chosen to pursue it. His hand, warm and callused, had reached for yours that night, exposing the tattoos on his forearms, maps that detailed places he dreamed of going. You traced the letters of the city you fled lightly with your fingers down the veins of his arm, noticing how much more appealing they looked on his skin. He had eyed you so tenderly that night that the memory of it was surreal even now.

In the last city you lived in, someone like Gabriel would have left a trail of broken hearts longer than the Piltover bridge. Life here seemed crueler to its people but you suspected that someone as alluring as he was didn’t stay lonesome too long. Whether his stories and smiles were intended to cast a spell for the night or for longer you never found out. Gabriel kissed your hand as you parted that night and never pressed the issue again, but eagerly brought his brothers back every week since.

And like that, the Kane brothers were front and center for every performance. You always made it a point to spend time at their table after each show, so it was easy to notice the evolution. It had started humbly, a shirt that looked so new it could still have tags on it, then the pants to match, but over time there had been a shift in tone. Where there had been new clothes, simple and not thoroughly threadbare, now there were flashy new ensembles, jackets, hats, and jewelry. The bar tab seemed to grow each time they were in too and Nox was in every night.

Spared the hardships Gabriel had described, Nox was prone to enthusiasm, impetuousness, and excess, and tonight was no exception. So far he had asked you to marry him on twelve separate occasions, with a glance at his current state you sensed unlucky number 13 was mere moments away. Without Lucas and Gabriel to reign him in you wondered just how far this little display would go.

Before you had a chance to approach Nox, a loud BANG of Remy’s office door swinging into the wall with more force than you had ever seen froze you in your tracks. 

“Gabriel-!” Remy shouted as you saw Gabriel emerge, jaw set and tense, from Remy’s office. 

Remy called after him again but Gabriel ignored him, making a B-line to his brother and roughly pulling Nox to his feet before practically dragging him away. Gabreil brushed by you in his pursuit to the exit like you weren’t even there, his eyes empty and cold, so unlike the evening you had spent in his company. So unlike him. Nox’s hands reached from you but found no purchase as he was hauled away without so much as a word, Remy still calling after them. At least that was one problem you didn’t have to deal with tonight.

The exterior door slammed closed and they were gone, an uneasy silence stilling hanging in their wake.

You couldn’t help but stare at the scene before you, your mouth comically open in complete confusion at what you had seen. Remy hated to break the atmosphere of the club, hell--hated to raise his voice unless it was over the roar of the crowd. Something was wrong.

More movement caught your eye, as you quickly turned to spot another tall figure emerge from Remy’s office. It was Silco.

He stood in the doorway and looked disinterestedly after where Gabriel had made his exit. Remy let out a heavy sigh of exasperation, running his hands through his hair. His nervous tick.  

Remy disappeared back into his office with Silco for a brief moment. You could hear hurried exchanging of words, voices tinged with distress, but couldn’t make out what they were saying. Then you noticed the unmistakably cool even tones of Silco, filling in the gaps of your mental picture. A moment later they both exited Remy’s office, Silco with a nearly empty glass and Remy with his keys. He proceeded to lock the door behind him and hastily out the exit after Gabriel.

Whatever peace meeting this had been had gone poorly.

You couldn’t pull your eyes off of Silco and it wasn’t long until he noticed, his bicolored eyes locking with yours sent a jolt of electricity through your body but you didn’t look away. It wasn’t long until he took a seat in one of the back booths and you retrieved a bottle of bourbon to join him.

“Do you cause trouble everywhere you go or are we special?” You asked, brandishing the bottle of liquor in a bid for an invitation to sit. 

Silco flashed a sardonic smile in response to your words, but nodded toward the empty seat opposite of him anyway as he reached into his inside coat pocket for something you couldn’t see. Hopefully not a gun. That was a terrible joke to be shot over. 

“Rough night?” You asked in a hurry to distract him from your last comment as you uncorked the bottle and poured you both two fingers of the amber alcohol.

“You could say that.” He said, placing a silver cigarette case down on the table before returning his hands to his coat to find it’s companion; the lighter. “You keep the most interesting company.”

You knew he was referring to the Kane brothers, specifically Gabriel. But this was business and that was something you left to Remy. Keeping out of business is one of the things that made you successful in this industry. Behind the scenes Remy and you worked together to keep things running like a well oiled machine, but when it came to the ins and outs of client disputes, you kept to the safety of your rules of ignorance and neutrality.

“Not really.” You responded blandly. “I haven’t had any interesting company here in weeks.” Your eyes lingered heavily on him with the weight of your insinuation. 

The corner of Silco’s lips twitched upwards, “I’ve been busy.”

“Clearly.”

Your eyes wandered back towards the door, patiently waiting for Remy to stroll in, the picture of cool confidence. But the door remained closed. 

 A sharp sound pulled your attention back to the present. Silco was holding a lighter to the end of a cigarette, his eyes freezing on you.

“Care to join me?” He asked around an inhale before exhaling the smoke above him and leaning back into the velvet of the booth. He really was a sight.

“Remy doesn’t like smoking in here.”

“Well, fortunately Remy’s not here.” Silco lifted the sleek elegant case in your direction. An offering. An invitation. 

“I’m the reason he doesn’t like it.”

This surprised Silco, he raises a curious eyebrow at you for further explanation.

“I quit a year ago. He doesn’t want me to be tempted back down that road.” Although he was making that rather difficult. If cigarettes always looked this good you would never have quit. Even the way Silco held his cigarette was refined, he was like every suave black and white movie you’d ever watched but there was something not quite right about the image. Something about it was out of place and spoiled it, something subtle but what?

Silco Indulged in another deep inhale staring lazily at the ceiling and you couldn’t help but watch as the svelt muscles in his neck moved around the smoke, fascinated by what must be happening below the knot of his tie.

“And how are you with temptation?”

Your eyes widened and you averted them into your glass as quickly as you could. If the pause wasn’t telling enough, you were sure your grip on the glass would be. 

“Well?”

Your eyes darted up to see the cigarette case, open now, in his hand again and a wave of relief fell over your body.

He was talking about the cigarettes. Wasn't he?

“Terrible.” You made no move to accept his offer. Silco’s eyes studied you, your words contrasting your actions. 

With little effort he blew his smoke across the table, meeting the skin of your face in soft swirling spirals that only aided in the clouding of your judgment. It was impossible not to drink in. Not to allow yourself this one small enjoyment from the buffet of poisonous delights. And he knew it.

The smirk lingering on his lips was just as irresistible. 

“I’ve always found a little indulgence now and then to be helpful to my mind.” Silco extended the offer of his own cigarette. And perhaps it was the nicotine that was causing your head to spin or the company but such delicious indulgence had to be tasted.

Your fingers lightly traced his as you turned his palm to face you and lowered my your lips to take a drag from the cigarette in between his fingers. It was dizzying and delicious indeed. Taking in the last of the inhale, you glanced up at him through your lashes to only find his eyes locked on you with a burning intensity. 

Releasing the cigarette from your lips, you allowed smoke to dribble out of you mouth before releasing it fully as you relaxed into the comfort of the cushions on the back of your seat. Silco stared openly, almost hungrily as you took your enjoyment and relaxation; eyes working over your mouth, your neck, your clavicle, your chest, then further down the rest of your body.

“Like my dress?” I asked, a wicked smile forming on your lips.

“You call that a dress?” 

He had a point. This dress was nude and intentionally tantalizing, covering the most interesting parts in sparkling crystals meant to allure equally as much as it obscured.

“What would you call it?”

“A trap.” 

You chuckled, reaching your hand out to his for another drag of his cigarette as he continued to study you. Silco was a mystery and there was no telling how far this game of cat and mouse would go. Your exhale came with more force this time, blowing smoke past his sharp features before offering the cigarette back. Silcos hand reached for your but instead of the cigarette you found his fingers firmly wrapped around your wrist. There was little doubt he noticed the small jolt of surprise he sent up your spine but he didn’t comment. Instead, he turned your wrist towards him and lowered his head to take a drag from your hand, exhaling his smoke inches from your face.  A perfect imitation. No, much better.

Smoke washed over your face and clouded your mind and your senses until there was only this. Only him. Pinned both literally and figuratively to spot he wanted. His instruction was clear as he held your wrist still and removed the cigarette from your hand, raising it to your lips. The fire behind his dual colored eyes was truly mesmerizing.  You held his gaze as you lowered your lips to enjoy another drag from his cigarette in sweet surrender.

“Good girl.”

Your eyes locked, breath hitching in your chest.

Danger. There was that neon sign again saying to run. --And it wasn’t the only thing turned on.

Silco is bad for business. Bad…so bad…

But it was impossible to deny the thrill that ran through you at the sound of his words. And if the sly gleam in his eyes was any indication, he knew it too.

The smoke exhaled slowly between your lips, your last tease as it swirled into the space between us. Neither of you able to look away. 

He raised the cigarette to his lips again, revealing the tail of a scar that traced its way up the left side of his face to join the others around his treacherous eye. Its glow nearly matching that of the cigarette in his hand. 

What happened to him?

No sooner had the thought occurred than it was chased away by the loud crashing of the front door into the wall of the club. It was Nox, even more intoxicated than last you’d seen him. He spoke loud and lively as he walked through the entryway, one arm heavy over Remy’s shoulder who seemed exasperated by the evening and the company. Truly a feat for someone so agreeable. One that immediately raised your concerns.

Silco was eyeing the same situation with a precise intensity that was impossible to describe or ignore. That same danger that had drawn you in earlier had sharpened somehow. That’s when it hit you: Silco was a knife. A dagger. A blade. 

He kept himself sheathed politely in most scenarios but there was no doubt about what was under the surface. You could draw it to butter your bread or slit a person's throat but the danger was there all the same. He was not soft or warm. He was sharp, cool, precise, and deadly.

Suddenly it gave you pause to interrupt whatever dark calculations he was making. 

“I probably should relieve Remy of Nox duty” You offered lightheartedly.

Slico cast that sharp look at you briefly before returning to watch Remy wiggle out from under Nox’s weight as he placed him gently into a barstool.

“Be careful with that one.”  Silco’s warning was just above a whisper and he didn’t even spare you a look as he said it. His attention was entirely focused on Nox.

“Nox is harmless” you chuckled. But the lingering look from Silco was starting to give you second thoughts. 

“We all start that way.” Silco muttered under his breath, more to himself than to you. What was it that he saw in Nox that you didn’t? The question alone sent a shiver down your spine. Did you even want to know the answer?

Before you realized it Silco had gotten up from the booth and stood at the edge of the table, still watching Nox as he harassed the last bartender on duty for another drink. 

Your fingers involuntarily gripped the velvet cushions beneath you. Was this it?

God, please, not now. You thought so loudly you were afraid you’d accidentally said the words out loud. Another conflict might actually break Remy and you certainly weren't ready to see the kind of damage Silco could inflict that had earned him such a fearsome reputation. 

You released a shuddering breath into the still air, heavy with the weight of your fear/expectation. Silco turned to you, relieving your worry and composing his features back into the perfect gentleman you knew him as.  His long slender hand reached for his whiskey and took the remainder of his drink in one go before turning back to you.

“Thank you for providing a respite from the rest of this night.” He said in low tones that only the two of you could hear as he lifted your hand to his lips.

The warmth that started in your chest spread slowly to your cheeks with a gentle blush, then to the soft smile of your lips and finally down through your core to pool in between your legs. 

“But unfortunately I cannot put off my business any longer.”

You were sure Nox was safe tonight, that Silco would leave and busy himself with other concerns. But it was the leaving part that you found harder to grapple with, even if no one knew. He’d been gone so much recently, your time together seemed to be slipping through your fingers.

“So you say.” you sighed.

“Perhaps it’s my company that’s not interesting enough for you.”

Silco’s eyes narrowed at your remark. In a flash// with out warning, his grip on your hand changed, suddenly pulling you out of your seat and into him. A startled gasp escaped your lips as your chest collided with his. Long fingers slid skillfully over your hip and along your lower back. His other hand still held your wrist firmly. Provocatively. Both a statement of control and a dare for you to defy it. 

“If I didn’t know any better, I would think that you miss me, Ms. Sweet '' Silco whispered in a near purr, his nose pressing against the shell of your ear. Silco sent chills throughout your body that rivaled surgical precision. You couldn’t see his face, but there was an aire of arrogance about the way he held you that said he knew.

“Perhaps” You melted into him, making no moves to resist him. Your fight lay in another vein.

“But I’m not sure I can remember why anymore.”

His grip on you relaxed and you withdrew, it seemed as good of time as any to make your exit. Always better to leave with the last word. It wasn’t until you had turned your back that you felt his dark presence on you again.

“Are you asking for a reminder?” He punctuated his question with the press of his body against yours. His front to your back, with an unmistakable stiffness. That felt like a win.

“I’d hate to distract you from your work. It sounds very important.” You struggled to keep the sound of your smile out of your voice. Silco’s fingers were caressing your hip, almost as though he was debating something.

Without warning a loud BANG cut through the thick atmosphere of the club, stealing your attention away from Silco’s touch. That damn door again. A long line of fresh Academy recruits staggered their way to the bar with slurred celebration on their lips. 

“Unusual crowd tonight.” You commented into the empty air beside you. Silco was gone.

[fandomzwriterk]

We need a continuation to f.r.i.e.n.d.s, I honesty don't know what is going to happen next, this fic was so good

A/N: you ask and I shall provide! Aw shit, here I go again!! Also I was playing Cult of the Lamb when I was writing this so it got a little dark😱😨

Warnings: sorta non-consenty, Remy sorta watching, Hostage Reader and Remy, sorta NSFW under cut, cursing, MDNI

F.R.I.E.N.D.S pt2

“Come on Y/n we have to hide somewhere!”

“Where?!”

“Here!”

It was the warehouse from where they rescued Roberto months ago from those cruel Liberators. You had wanted to kill them yourself, but Scott stopped you. Death was too easy of a punishment for them. So, they were thrown in jail, the Sentinels scrapped and the building being closed for repairs. You both remembered a window that could be opened up on the roof, so Remy lead the way up the side of the building, walking and carefully climbing over boxes.

“Shh. Right here.”

Remy crouched, walking quietly through the window and up into the walkway above. He moved his arm past you, holding up the window as you crawled through. He could’ve easily gone first, but he needed to make sure that you weren’t in view from outside in case Scott was somewhere near you two.

“Brings back good memories eh?”

“Remy now is not the time.”

“Cherié I’m just trying to calm you down.”

“Sorry.”

You bit your tongue, knowing the last couple of months have been confusing for everyone. You fooled Remy into thinking you were in love with Scott, and Scott did the same to Jean. For Scott, it was real though. What was he to you now? An ex? A friend? A… murderer? No. It wasn’t possible Scott wouldn’t… would he?

“I know you’re in here! Come on out Remy let’s settle this like men!” Scott taunted as he rammed down the wall

Remy put a finger to his lips, telling you be quiet so you both wouldn’t be heard. He slowly stood up, but you grabbed onto his arm, making him stop. He kissed your cheek, staring into your eyes as he turned to slowly and carefully walked down the stairs. If you stopped him it would just delay the inevitable, that Scott was going to kill Remy and take you from him.

“Up ‘ere fucker!” Remy shouted as he flung a playing card at Scott’s head while Scott walked into the center of the room

“God I’ve always wanted to beat the shit outta you and your ego.” Scott retorted back as he dodged it

“And I’ve always wanted to put you in your place for hurting my friends.”

Remy and Scott swung fists at each other, Remy dodging to making sure that Scott wouldn’t see you. You noticed his eyes went up to you, him giving a wink to you as a way to tell you to run.

“I know she’s here Gambit.”

Scott was quicker by just a second, grabbing Remy’s throat and slamming him down in the concrete. Remy still clung onto his rage and urge to protect you, desperately trying to take a swing at Scott’s head with his staff. You could see Scott’s grip was iron tight, almost crushing Remy’s throat with his own hands. And that was it, Remy’s eyes glancing to you as Scott did it one more time, as you watched Remy go unconscious in front of you. You hope he is unconscious and not dead.

“Come on out Y/n in know you’re here darling.”

You put a hand over your mouth, seeing Scott drag Remy over to a concrete pillar, leaving him there as he went to look for something. You debated on going to save him, but doing that would destroy the sacrifice Remy made to get you to run away unharmed. You watched as Scott came back, dragging a half ruined chair to Remy, picking him up and sitting him on it. Remy’s hand were tied behind him, and you watched as Scott pulled out a Liberators Mutant Collar and put it around Remy’s neck.

“Come on out Y/n~ Come on out and I’ll let Remy live. I’ll even consider leaving you two alone as an agreement.”

You felt your skin crawl, the hair on the back of your neck rising as you watched Scott kick Remy’s chair over and start to push his foot down on Remy’s neck. You stood up slowly, raising your hands in the air as a surrender. You were not going to let Remy die for your sake. You walked down the metal stairs, making Scott turn his head to face you. His evil smile widened as you walked slowly up to him.

“Let him go.”

“Y/n don’t do it cherié. Don’t ‘cha let him take you!”

Scott kicked Remy, making Remy groan in pain while Scott had a cruel smile on his face.

“Now… come here my darling~”

He stretched a hand out to you, waiting for you to grab it. There was a small hesitance, slowly moving it to grab it. You stopped when your finger tips touched. Your face fell, and Scott didn’t like that. So, he grabbed you, put an arm around your neck and having a hand covering your mouth. You tried to scratch at his arm, but Scott was faster, his grip on your arm almost crushing it with his hand.

“You son of a bitch when I get out…”

“And you won’t. I made sure of that.”

Scott pulled you backwards, your heels dragging on the floor while Remy struggled in his chair. Scott stopped once he had you moved a few feet away from Remy, making him face towards you two.

“You are so dead Scott. I’m gonna make sure you suffer for this.”

You could see out of the corner of your eye, Scott’s eyes glaring and staring at Remy. Then, his attention went to you.

“And now my darling… why don’t I show him who you really belong to.”

Scott’s other hand traced your thigh, slowly going up and tracing your hip, your chest, and then ending with it moving towards your ass. You clawed against Scott’s skin, but he was so much stronger than you. Remy wasn’t happy either. He was pissed and wanted to save you.

“So beautiful darling~”

His hand went back up, reaching your chest. His big hands started squeezing and playing with your breast. You screamed into Scott’s hand, his grip getting harder with each scream and kick against him.

“I don’t want to hurt you but if you don’t listen…”

“I swear to god Cyclops I’m going to fucking kill you myself.”

“Try me mother fucker.”

You were scared, Scott touching you in places even when you were fake dating you wouldn’t let him touch. Hell you never even kissed the man. Only just a hand on the thigh or hand holding. Where did it all go wrong?

“You son of a bitch!” You heard being shouted from above

Logan and Morph came crashing through the roof while Jean flew through a broken window. Scott gripped you like his life depended on it.

“I’m going to kill each and every one of you if you get in my way.”

Jean slowly flew down to the ground. She now knew this wasn’t the real Scott.

“Scott please let them go. They’ve done nothing wrong.” Jean begged

Scott’s other hand was still over your mouth, now his free hand moving up to his glasses.

“Run!” Remy shouted

And just like that, the building came crashing down.

A/N: hope you enjoyed!

[sequoiareachesforthesky]

Various observations on Hotaru from the hit project by @tsumigram and what I get out of them

Warning : this post is a mess. You may feel like some obvious stuff is missing. You'd be right.

In this post, I'm going to list various observations I made based on citations. Then, I'll be trying to link these observations together within a small, more cohesive analysis (don't expect very in-depth analysis or theorizing, I'm not very good at it).

Here goes part 1 (citations, and then what i get out of them, specifically the highlited parts)

“I don't feel particularly averse to this place… rather, I can't say I really care. I can't remember any distinct preferences of mine.” - Character profile

“I'm fine with anything” - Timeline convo 07/12/23, talking with Remi about the name she should give them

“Chise : Are you a boy or a girl? I asked Ego, but she said it's not written on your prisoner card. Hotaru : Ahh, I mean, you can decide.” - Timeline convo 13/12/23

“Next year. I need to move out of this house. Who was the one wishing for it?” - Memory Report, Record n°3

-> Hotaru has, according to them, no preferences/tastes, no real personal identity, no sense of self. [1]

“It’s enough of a crime that I’m here. Right into Hell, I’ll take you with me” - Undercover

“The things that I like are getting on my nerves. Everyone thinks they're weird, so I can't stand them. Is it? Is it? As I see it, I'm the same as other people. I don't get what do I have to change.” -Memory report, Record n°3

-> As Hotaru sees it, there's something wrong at the core of their identity (your very existence is a crime ; what you like is wrong) [2]

“Ego-chan is really easy to talk to. I don't know what your real intentions are, but it makes me feel that you want to understand me. So, thank you.” - Character profile

-> Hotaru wants to be understood [3]

“Hm-m. Rather than judgment of sins, as you say, it sounds like an assignment of a role.” - Character profile

“You feel burning cold beneath your body; it starts to spread from your unmoving fingers, going further and further until becoming unbearable. You’re trying to wake up, you’re trying, desperately opening your eyes only to be pushed forward the next moment — right into the blurry air.” - Undercover

“In fact, Remi-chan named me Hotaru.” - Voice drama

“Another life that you'll give me.” - Voice drama

-> Hotaru is often the object of the action in matters that concerns them personally (objectification). Their agency is constantly being taken away, they are forced into things/roles they didn't choose. [4]

“Hotaru: Ahh— May I call you Ego-chan? I don't intend to disrespect your position as the warden, but I prefer to remember people's names.”

“Hotaru: I'm really doing my best to be respectful to people’s names. Because names hold a lot of meaning.”

“See you later, young lady. Or do you hate being called that? Not in particular. I see. I'm respectful, so I wouldn't refer to you in any way that you hate.”

“I changed my name in papers, but everyone keeps on calling me by the old one. This is so cruel”

-> Hotaru gives a lot of importance to respecting people's names and not referring to someone in a way they don't like. They give a value to what people choose to be called. [5]

(note : there's so much more to say about Hotaru and "names", they even explain in details what names mean to them in their voice drama, but this part is only about the intersection between the theme of "names" an the theme of "choice")

“Aren't you too old for being a school bully?” - Timeline cconvo 22/12/23

“Those girls pick on you.” - Memory Report, Record n°2

-> Bullying appears to be a core theme of Hatoru's story. In both of these instances, they are accusing others (girls) of being bullies. [6]

“Hotaru: It makes me feel a bit left out. Ego: Why so? Do others pick on you? Hotaru: Ahh— May I call you Ego-chan? I don't intend to disrespect your position as the warden, but I prefer to remember people's names. Ego: That's a sudden change of topic.” - Voice drama

-> Here, when Ego brings up bullying and ask Hotaru if they are being bullied, Hotaru avoids the topic. [7]

“Sorry, I can't really remember my name nor age. I know it's inconvenient, so if I come up with a way to refer to myself, I'll make sure to tell you first.” - Character profile

“Ego: Ahh, I suppose. …This is my first interrogation ever, so it might have been a little awkward… Hotaru: It's fine. Rather, I must be giving you more trouble since I barely can give information about myself.” - Voice Drama

“Ego: Jacka told me about your situation, so I won't ask you for a self-introduction. Hotaru: Sorry for the trouble.” - Voice drama

“Ego: That's a sudden change of topic. Hotaru: Sorry for that.” - Voice drama

“Uh… As for why I feel left out… I might get a bit talkative here. Do you mind?” - Voice drama

“I might be too dramatic, so don't overthink it.” - Voice drama

“There's no need to. I might go with another one later. You're going to get tired of making new prisoner tags each time, so it's better to leave a blank space.”

“Next year I'll do it. This is the worst, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.” - Memory report, record n°3

-> Hotaru apologizes a lot (x) and overall seems to be worried about being bothersome to people around them (x). They want to avoid annoying others at all cost. [8]

“Maybe… the reason why I forgot my name is that no one cared to remember it.” - Voice drama

“It’s uncomfortable to be remembered, right? I know your faculty, too.” - Memory report, record n°2

-> Being remembered is something ambivalent in Hotaru's story : it's important, valuable, yet it can cause you to be stuck in the past against your will by being associated with things that aren't related to you anymore (there's a loooot to say about Hotaru and "remembering", it's the amnesia man we're talking about after all) [9]

“Compared to everyone, it's like I don't really have a life. Either I'm dead already, or wasn't born yet.” - Voice drama

“Another life that you'll give me.” - Voice drama

-> Themes of birth/rebirth [10]

“It’s enough of a crime that I’m here. Right into Hell, I’ll take you with me” - Undercover

“Well, maybe you'll go to Hell and pay for it. Not that Hell exists.” - Memory report, record n°2

=> There's a couple of mentions of Hell in Hotaru's story, and with religious undertones since it's Hell with a capital H. [11]

Ok, now, my broad analysis (I don't think I'm very good at those so here goes nothing ig) :

Hotaru doesn't feel like they have their own identity (1), because they can't remember anything about themselves. Their life is a complete blur (as we are often reminded by pretty much every piece of content about them). Despite that, they also seek to be understood (3). There's a kind of contradiction in this: if they have nothing for themself, what is there to understand? As I see it, this desire to be understood is a remnant of their past life. Maybe there's nothing to understand anymore, but the effort is always valued and appreciated. They may also see it as a way to help them find their own identity : if others figure out things about them, they could start understanding themself better.

This importance that Hotaru gives to trying to understand others may result from the fact that others have never tried to understand them in the past. This can link to points [2] and [6] : people has made Hotaru feel as if there was something wrong with them without trying to go past that first impression and it turned into bullying. I think Hotaru has been bullied in the past, and that might be why they avoid the topic when Ego asks them if they are getting picked on (7), because it feels too personal, too close to home, even if they currently have no memory of it (avoidance as a coping mechanism).

in addition to the bullying, there's the fact that Hotaru may have lacked control over their life and choices as a whole (4). The way Hotaru has been treated by others could be the cause of their current behaviour : Hotaru apologizes a lot and doesn't want to bother others (8), which couls be because of low self-worth induced by the way others have treated them.

Because they know what it feels like for your choice not to be respected, Hotaru has developed a strong attachment to the importance of respecting other people's choices (5).

Now I haven't mentioned it because it's quite obvious, but Hotaru's story relates a lot to identity, and also gender. If we assume the person talking in the Memory report, record n°3, they changed name but others kept dead-naming them. It could technically be because of reasons that don't relate to gender identity, but I think we can assume it is as the topic of gender is also part of Hotaru's story and character (they use any pronous, according to them they don't care about being seen as either a boy or a girl, the Memory report record n°2 mentions specifically whether or not calling someone "young lady", etc.) Also the theme of "being reborn as a new person" (10) tracks with the idea of transitioning. Assuming Hotaru is some flavour of transgender, it's likely that this part of their identity was one of the target of their bully/bullies. Probably not the only one (cf citations in point [2]), and bullies will attack anything they can find in you anyway, but it shows how transgender youths are at a higher risk of not being accepted by their peers.

Very vague hypothesis about Hotaru's crime : The way Hotaru has been treated may have led them to seek vengence and kill someone, which could be the reason why they're here in Tsumigram. Aside from that, I don't know, there's mentions of taking someone in death with them ("Not that Hell exist. Does it? We'll see."  "Right into Hell, I’ll take you with me") but I don't have enough analysis skills to get anything beyond that. Could've killed someone (or multiple people) with the intetion of killing themselves right after but didn't go through it in the end.

Anyway this post is kind of a mess, I didn't even really touch on the topic of memory, amnesia and stuff and barely mentioned the religious undertones but I just thought I'd do. something. This is more of an exercise for me on how to articulate my thoughts.