Just Got Done Watchging X-Men '97 Ep 9 W My Baddie Pookie Bear

Lost in a New Island

THIS IS MULTI X READER

Synopsis: When you get lost on an island, your favorite pirate starts to search for you.

Luffy

Luffy did not get why everyone was freaking out so much.

“[Your Name] is tough! They’ll be fine!” he had said, hands behind his head as the rest of the crew scrambled to search for you.

But even as he said it, something inside him nagged at him.

Sure, you were strong. But you were also alone. And that was not okay.

So, with his usual carefree attitude, Luffy shot his arm out and launched himself into the jungle, swinging from trees like a wild monkey. He laughed as he flew through the air, dodging birds and snapping twigs beneath him.

“[Your Name]!!” he called, his voice echoing through the thick canopy.

Nothing.

His grin faltered—just a little.

Then, finally, he spotted a familiar figure sitting on a fallen log, looking frustrated but unharmed.

“There you are!”

You looked up, eyes wide as he came crashing down in front of you.

“Luffy?!”

He landed with a bounce, dusting himself off like nothing happened. “Took me forever to find you!”

You scoffed. “Yeah, because you were probably messing around instead of actually looking!”

Luffy grinned, unfazed. “I found you, didn’t I?”

You sighed, standing up. “Come on, let’s just get back—”

Before you could take another step, he stretched his arm out, grabbing your wrist.

You blinked. “Luffy?”

His grip was firm. “You scared me, y’know.”

You blinked at his serious tone. “I—”

But then, just like that, the moment passed. His grin returned, wide and carefree.

“Let’s go! Race you back!”

And before you could protest, he grabbed you and launched the both of you into the trees, laughing all the way.

Zoro

Zoro’s thoughts were a mess.

He couldn’t believe this was happening.

Of course, the moment you got separated from the crew, he had promised to find you. No one else could, he figured, since everyone else had gone into full panic mode.

It wasn’t that he was worried, not exactly. He was just… annoyed.

You were strong. You could handle yourself. Still, it didn’t sit right with him that you were out there, alone in a place like this.

The dense jungle did not help his mood. He was used to finding his way in places like this, but this island was a mess—thick vines, strange plants, and the damn humidity messing with his clothes.

After what felt like an eternity of searching, he finally spotted you, sitting by a small creek, looking up at the sky.

“There you are,” Zoro muttered under his breath.

You blinked at him in surprise. “Zoro?”

He crossed his arms, relieved but unwilling to show it. “I told you I’d find you.”

“You could’ve been looking harder,” you teased, standing up.

He gave you a flat look. “I’m not the one who wandered off. Next time, stick close.”

You smirked, eyes scanning the jungle around you. “You’re lucky I’m not really lost. Still, thanks for coming after me.”

He turned his back to you. “Let’s get back to the ship before the others burn everything down.”

You followed after him, silently grateful that despite Zoro’s gruff exterior, his actions spoke louder than words.

Sanji

Sanji’s heart was racing as he searched the island for you.

He had already cooked two meals for the crew in hopes that you’d come back hungry, but none of that mattered now.

You were missing. Alone.

It was unacceptable.

The second he realized you weren’t on the ship anymore, he threw himself into action, pushing past his usual calm composure. You were his priority now.

His thoughts raced as he walked through the dense jungle. He imagined every horrible possibility—what if you were captured by some monster, or worse, hurt?

“[Your Name]!!” he called, voice straining with worry.

A rustle in the trees ahead made him freeze. His eyes widened when he saw you, sitting near a large rock.

“Thank the heavens…” He rushed toward you, kneeling in front of you. “I’ve been frantic! You’re alright?”

You blinked, slightly confused but also touched. “Sanji, I’m fine. Just got a little lost.”

“Lost?” He pulled you into a fierce hug, hands cupping your face as he inspected you closely. “I was so worried! Don’t ever wander off like that again!”

You chuckled, feeling warmth spread through your chest. “I didn’t mean to, I promise.”

His eyes softened, though the intensity of his emotions remained. “Then let me take care of you. I’ll make you the best meal you’ve ever had, my darling.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Sanji, we need to get back to the ship first.”

He looked at you, eyes softening. “I’ll carry you there if I must.”

You smiled, rolling your eyes. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

“And you love me,” he replied smoothly, pulling you into his arms.

Usopp

Usopp was terrified.

His heart was racing, and his legs were shaking with every step he took. He couldn’t believe it—you were out there somewhere, lost.

“Okay, okay, just calm down, Usopp,” he muttered to himself, his voice barely above a whisper. “You can do this.”

But even as he said it, his thoughts wandered. He knew how capable you were, but there were so many unknowns in the jungle. Monsters, traps, dangers he could only imagine.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sight of you—sitting on the ground, staring at the sky as if you didn’t have a care in the world.

“[Your Name]!” Usopp exclaimed, a breath of relief escaping his chest.

You looked up in surprise, blinking as you registered him. “Usopp?”

He practically ran to you, his heart still pounding. “I’m so glad you’re okay! I thought—”

You stood up, brushing off your pants. “I was fine. But I’m glad you found me.”

Usopp gave you a nervous laugh. “I had to fight through countless dangers just to get here. There were—uh, there were wolves. And some crazy jungle beasts! You wouldn’t believe—”

You raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t run from a butterfly, did you?”

His face turned red. “I did not! The butterfly was suspicious!”

You laughed, and Usopp felt his chest warm. He took your hand gently. “Let’s get back to the others.”

Shanks

Shanks felt something he hadn’t in years: panic.

It wasn’t like him to lose his cool. But the moment he realized you were missing, his calm and collected demeanor cracked.

You were important to him. And the thought of you being out there alone—it didn’t sit right.

He tried not to let the worry show, but the feeling only intensified as he searched the island. The jungle seemed to stretch on forever, and every rustling noise made him tense.

It wasn’t until he finally spotted you sitting by the shore, gazing out at the ocean, that the tightness in his chest released.

“You’re okay?” His voice was soft, a little rough with emotion.

You turned, smiling at the sight of him. “Shanks! Yeah, I’m fine. I didn’t get lost, really.”

He let out a relieved laugh, though there was still a trace of worry in his eyes. “Don’t scare me like that again, alright?”

You nodded, standing up and walking toward him. “I’m sorry, but it’s nice to have a little quiet time. Thanks for coming after me.”

He gave you a lopsided grin. “Always. Let’s head back before the crew starts causing chaos.”

Buggy

Buggy was freaking out.

“WHERE IS [YOUR NAME]?! WHAT IF THEY’VE BEEN TAKEN BY SOME MONSTERS?!”

His crew was starting to wonder if their captain had completely lost it. He had been running around the jungle, shouting your name for what felt like hours.

The truth? He was terrified.

It wasn’t just the fear of losing you; it was the fear that he had failed.

When he finally spotted you sitting near a stream, his relief was almost overwhelming.

“[YOUR NAME]!” he shouted, rushing over to you.

You barely had time to react before he was practically throwing himself at you, hugging you like his life depended on it.

“You’re alright! Oh, thank the gods!”

You blinked, confused but also a little touched. “Buggy, I’m fine. I wasn’t in any danger.”

He pulled back, his expression dramatic. “Don’t you dare leave me alone like that again! I couldn’t bear it!”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Okay, okay, I won’t do it again.”

But Buggy was already smirking, his usual bravado back in full force. “Guess you missed me, huh?”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”

But the fact that he had come for you, no questions asked, made your heart flutter just a little.

🧪"Analyze"🥼

Hank had been rambling about some new formula for the past fifteen minutes. You had been listening, truly, but somewhere along the way, you had started focusing more on him than on the science.

The way his hands moved as he explained things, careful yet enthusiastic. The way his eyes lit up with that unmistakable spark of curiosity. The way his fur bristled slightly when he got too into his own thoughts, like he was trying to physically keep up with his own genius.

Yeah. You were completely distracted.

"Are you even listening?"

You blinked, snapping out of your thoughts to find Hank staring at you over his glasses, one eyebrow raised in amusement.

"I—yes," you said, though it was not very convincing.

He chuckled, shaking his head as he leaned against the lab table. "Alright then. What was I just explaining?"

You grinned, tilting your head. "Something about molecular structures?"

Hank sighed, though there was no real frustration behind it. "You are impossible."

"And yet, you still love me."

"That is the mystery of the century," he teased.

You huffed dramatically, pushing yourself up onto the lab table beside him. "Alright, fine, I was not listening. But in my defense, you are very distracting."

His ears twitched slightly. "Distracting?"

"Yes. Very. You get all… passionate and smart, and it is attractive, Hank."

His fur darkened at that—his version of blushing—and you bit back a smirk at the way he ducked his head, suddenly very interested in the papers in front of him.

"You are ridiculous," he muttered, but there was affection in his voice.

You leaned closer, resting your chin in your hand. "Mm. Maybe. But you love that, too."

Hank exhaled a soft laugh, shaking his head. Then, without looking at you, he murmured, "You are my favorite experiment."

Your breath caught. "Oh?"

Finally, he glanced at you, blue eyes warm but playful. "Mhm. I have spent quite a bit of time analyzing you, you know."

"Oh, have you?" You leaned in just a little more.

He hummed. "I have studied the way your eyes crinkle when you smile. The way you somehow always manage to distract me, despite my best efforts. The way your heartbeat picks up when I stand too close."

Your heart did exactly that, and judging by his grin, he noticed.

"That is hardly scientific," you argued, though your voice was softer now.

Hank smirked. "Perhaps. But I have come to one conclusion after all my research."

"And what is that?"

He reached up, brushing a stray hair from your face before letting his fingers linger along your jaw. His voice was gentle, affectionate.

"I am completely and utterly in love with you."

Your breath hitched, and then you were closing the space between you, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his lips. He melted into it, hands settling at your waist like you were something delicate and precious.

When you finally pulled away, you smiled. "That is a pretty good conclusion, Dr. McCoy."

He laughed, resting his forehead against yours. "It is my most important discovery yet."

Thank you to everyone who got me to 2500 likes!

....AAAHHHHH-

NOT MY VID

↫𝒞𝓊𝒹𝒹𝓁𝑒𝓈↬

Synopsis; After a particularly rough mission, you are welcomed by your favorite speedster and his warmth.

Warnings; none! <3

The mission had been an absolute disaster—or at least that’s how it felt. Every step back into the X-Mansion was like dragging lead weights, and your entire body screamed for rest. You had enough energy to kick off your boots but not enough to make it to your room. Instead, you flopped onto the couch in the common room, burying your face into a throw pillow with a muffled groan.

The familiar whoosh of displaced air and the sound of a chip bag crinkling were your only warning before Peter Maximoff appeared, standing over you like some kind of smug vending machine mascot.

“Well, well, look who’s all tuckered out,” he teased, dropping onto the couch beside you.

You didn’t bother lifting your head. “Go away, Peter.”

“Nah,” he said, already popping a chip into his mouth. “This is way more entertaining. Plus, I brought snacks. You should be thanking me.”

“I can’t even move,” you muttered, your voice muffled by the pillow.

Peter snorted, tossing the bag of chips onto the coffee table. “Then it’s a good thing I’m here. Move over.”

You turned your head just enough to squint at him. “What?”

“Scoot,” he repeated, nudging your shoulder. “You look like you need some of my patented Peter Maximoff TLC. And by that, I mean cuddles.”

“Since when do you cuddle anyone?”

“Since now,” he said with a grin. “Come on, don’t make me beg. It’s undignified.”

With a dramatic sigh, you shifted over slightly, allowing him to wedge himself beside you. He wasted no time draping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you against his chest, tugging the blanket from the back of the couch to cover both of you.

“There. Cozy, right?” he said, leaning back and resting his head against the couch.

You let out a small laugh despite yourself. “This is weirdly nice.”

“‘Weirdly nice’ is my middle name,” Peter quipped, his hand coming up to trace absentminded circles on your arm.

For a guy who couldn’t sit still for more than five seconds, Peter had a surprisingly calming presence. The tension in your shoulders started to melt away, and you found yourself sinking deeper into the cushions.

“Thanks, Pete,” you murmured, your voice soft.

He looked down at you, his usual smirk replaced by something gentler. “Hey, you did good out there. Don’t let your brain tell you otherwise, okay?”

You gave a small nod, your eyes growing heavy.

“Go ahead and sleep,” he said, pressing a quick kiss to your temple. “I’ll stick around, just in case you need me.”

The last thing you heard before drifting off was the sound of him quietly humming some old 80s song, the warmth of his arm around you lulling you into peace.

◯𓇋An Enemy's Kiss◯𓇋

Sysopsis; What happens when there's tension in-between two so-called enemies? What happens when you finally see why this pirate always got back up, because you let him?

----------------------------------------------

The sky was a molten red, the city beneath them reduced to little more than shattered bones and smoking rubble. The wind carried the acrid scent of destruction, howling through the skeletal remains of buildings, as if mourning the ruin left behind.

At the edge of the crumbling tower, you stood, bloodied and breathless, fists clenched at your sides. Across from you, Sanji exhaled sharply, rolling his shoulder, his usual easy grace marred by exhaustion. Ash clung to his tattered shirt, soot streaked his cheek, but still—that damnable fire in his eyes refused to go out.

“You just do not quit, do you?” Your voice trembled with rage, the weight of it pressing into every syllable. “Time and time again, you ruin everything! I build, you break. I rise, you knock me down. No matter what I do, no matter how many times I put you in the dirt, you just keep getting back up—like some cockroach that refuses to die!”

Sanji swiped at the blood trickling from the corner of his mouth and let out a short, humorless laugh. “You talk like I’m the problem,” he muttered, tilting his head. “Like you aren’t the one leaving wreckage in your wake.”

“You do not get to stand there and preach to me.” You took a step forward, voice sharp as a blade. “Not after everything. Do you have any idea how much easier things would be if you were gone?”

The words hung between you, heavy with something unspoken. The wind howled through the ruins, but neither of you moved, the tension coiled tight as a wire.

Then, after a beat, Sanji exhaled, shaking his head.

“You don’t mean that.”

Your nails dug into your palms. “And what makes you so sure?”

He took a step forward this time, slow and deliberate, his sharp eyes never leaving yours. “Because if you really wanted me gone,” he said, voice quiet but unwavering, “you would have done it by now.”

Your breath caught.

Sanji was close enough now that you could see past the exhaustion, past the bruises and cuts, past the ever-present smirk he wore like armor. His eyes—steady, piercing, frustratingly understanding—locked onto yours, searching.

And damn him, because he was right.

You had the chance before. More than once. A well-placed blow, a single ruthless strike, and he would not be standing here now. But every time, something held you back. Some invisible chain wrapped tight around your wrists, refusing to let you finish it.

You hated him for seeing it. Hated him for the way he still stood there, unwavering.

“You are insufferable.” The words came out as a whisper—low, bitter, almost pained.

Sanji’s lips curled, just slightly, in something that was not quite a smirk, not quite a smile. “Yeah?” he murmured. “So are you.”

The air between you shifted—dangerous, electric.

It was impossible to tell who moved first.

One second, you were standing at a distance, and the next, you had collided—hands fisting in his torn shirt, his grip firm at your waist, and then his lips crashed against yours in something desperate, reckless, inevitable.

The battle had raged for so long, but this? This was its own kind of war.

Fury burned between you, but so did something deeper, something raw and undeniable. The taste of blood lingered between your mouths, the scent of smoke curling in the air, but none of it mattered. Not when he was pulling you closer, not when your hands trembled against him, not when you realized just how badly you had wanted this—wanted him.

The moment stretched, sharp and breathless, before you finally tore yourself away, your forehead resting against his as your breathing came ragged.

Sanji’s fingers lingered at your waist, hesitant but unwilling to let go.

“This doesn’t change anything,” you rasped.

His breath was warm against your lips as he chuckled, low and rough. “Didn’t say it did.”

And yet, as he looked at you—eyes dark, gaze searching—something had shifted. Something had already changed.

And neither of you could take it back now.

That was so cute! 😭😭 we need more Toad stuff on this app

Heyyy, I'm back 😍 I'm the weirdo that said I'll give you my life for some Todd fics. And I do owe you now because you did it and I'M SO happy. Since you asked for ideas, could you do a fic about Todd with an insecure reader (specifically a plus sized reader if you could ☝️☺️❤️💪) I will literally give you my first born child.

Different People Same Feelings

Todd Tolansky x plus size reader

Words: 824

Author’s note: I tried not to delve too deep with the emotions cause I’m not good with emotional stuff and this one kinda rung home with me so sorry if it’s not what you were looking for.

Creep. Gross. Freak. Toad’s heard it all. 

But while other people’s words brought him down, yours were right there to bring him back up. 

Affectionate. Witty. Wonderful. Those were the words that came to his mind now. He got so used to your optimistic thinking that it didn’t even occur to him that you might need some of that positivity yourself. 

You weren’t the thinnest and you were okay with that. While most of the time you tried not to care for what others thought you couldn’t help but focus on your coworkers words, said earlier that week. 

“Squishy?” You repeated as you looked at yourself in the mirror, your hand grabbing at the skin of your waist when Todd threw the door open. 

“Keep your cool, the Toad-miester has arrived,” he shouted, his eyes landing on you. 

Stepping into your room he could tell the typical vibes were off but he didn’t care, he was just happy to see you. So in his bliss of happiness he hopped over, and once close enough he straightened his back and met your mouth.

His lips caught you off guard, with your mind elsewhere, but you eased into the kiss, at least before his hands landed on your waist. When his hands rested on your body you were instantly reminded of that word again. 

Squishy.

Your hands found his, as you tried to gently move them away without any detection but obviously that wasn’t the case.

Todd separated from you, his hands returning to his side as he gave you a nervous expression to which you just smiled back. It wasn’t the first time you’d done something like that recently. He was honestly going to avoid the whole conversation, afraid that if he mentioned it, it would just end up with him hurt, but something about your face moved him to ask.

“Did I do something wrong?”

That question plus the sad expression he wore made you feel guilty for even making Toad think that. “What? No, of course not, no you haven’t done anything wrong.”

You both stood in silence awkwardly, you; being unable to express yourself and him; being afraid of creating conflict. But eventually one of you had to break the tension created and it seemed like Toad was willing to take that risk. 

“If it isn’t me, then what’s wrong?”

You held your lips tight breathing in through your nose, before telling him the story. “At work my coworker was, you know, joking and telling a story, and she poked my stomach. Then she quickly removed and asked what that was that she poked? And I said my stomach and she said it felt way squished than she expected. And I know it was just a word and she probably didn’t mean anything by it, but now I’m just looking at myself. Every roll, every bump and handle. I’m just staring and thinking that everything that I try to hide about my body everyone can see. And you know when you tell yourself it’s all in your head, nobody notices it. Now I’m realizing everybody does notice and I’ve just been out here gaslighting myself.”

Toad was not prepared for any of that, he had no idea this was going on. 

“I don’t know, I just wish I was different, do you ever wish I was different?”

You knew the question was way too much, you sort of hated yourself for even asking it, but you couldn’t help but wonder what Todd thought especially considering he was on the other side of the scale with him being more slender. 

That question was just about the least depressing way you figured you could’ve worded it. 

Todd took a step back looking you up and down, “are you kidding, you’re hot!” 

You gave him a tight lipped smile, of course he would say that’s, he was your boyfriend. But honestly you didn’t want to think about it anymore, all you wanted to do was be alone.

”Thanks,” you said, turning your back to him. 

“Wait, wait, wait,” he he’d your elbow turning you around again. “No, I don't wish you looked different. You’re my babe. You’re gorgeous inside and out,” in the process of his words he lifted your arms to wrap around his shoulders, “you gave me a chance. I never want you to be anything but yourself. If you think people are looking at you funny it’s me they're probably looking at.”

“Hey,” you warned while he shot you a laugh making you grin a little. 

“Do you ever wish I looked different?” He asked, using your own question against you.

You looked at him before bringing your foreheads together. “Never.”

Toad learned something new that day. He learned that there are times when you felt just as bad as he did and he learned that his words actually meant a lot to someone, and that fact itself meant alot to him.

𝚀𝚞𝚒𝚎𝚝 𝚂𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚐𝚝𝚑

You are a low-ranking demon slayer, one who has never slain a demon yourself. Each mission ended with your companions standing victorious - never you. Now healing at the Butterfly Estate, you try to repay kindness with effort, scrubbing bloodstains, replanting flowers, and hauling supplies, hoping not to be a burden. But you are not as invisible as you think. You may not see yourself as a fighter, but they do. ___________________________________________________ 🌸 Tanjiro Kamado – “Kindness is Not Measured in Kills.”

Tanjiro noticed you the way he noticed a falling petal—quiet, soft, easily overlooked by others but impossible for him to ignore. You were always moving at the Butterfly Estate, mopping floors, washing linens, bringing tea to the sick and bandaging up the wounded even though you wore a few bandages yourself.

You weren't loud about your efforts. You never boasted. In fact, you often lowered your eyes when others spoke of battle victories. He overheard one slayer whisper, “She hasn't even killed a demon before.”

That made his heart ache.

He found you in the garden one afternoon, quietly sweeping up fallen cherry blossoms with a woven broom, your fingers trembling just slightly from exhaustion. You looked up when he approached, startled, but gave him a shy nod.

“You do so much around here,” he said warmly. “You do not have to push yourself this hard.”

“I… I do not want to be a burden,” you murmured. “Everyone else is stronger. Braver. I just… help however I can.”

Tanjiro shook his head. “Don't say that. Helping others is its' own kind of strength.” He crouched beside you and smiled, voice gentle. “You save lives here. You bring peace. That’s not freeloading. That’s being part of the fight.”

And when he helped you to your feet, his fingers lingered around yours.

______________________________________________________________

⚡ Zenitsu Agatsuma – “Don't Sell Yourself Short—That’s My Job!”

Zenitsu first noticed you when you accidentally dropped a stack of clean laundry right in front of him, scrambled to pick it up, and apologized like you had committed a crime. His heart stuttered in his chest. Not just because you were cute (you were), but because you looked so genuinely afraid of being in someone’s way.

You reminded him… a little too much of himself kinda.

Later that day, he found you in the hallway trying to scrub blood out of a uniform sleeve, muttering to yourself about not doing enough. He knelt beside you, hands full of soap.

“Need help?” he offered. Then, a beat later, “Please say yes. I’m actually good at laundry. One of the few things I’m confident in.”

You blinked at him in surprise. “Really?”

“Yeah. And you’re not giving yourself enough credit,” he said quickly, eyes wide with sincerity. “Just because you haven’t killed a demon yet doesn’t mean you’re not a slayer. You’re still here. You’re still trying. That’s more than most.”

You looked down, a little flustered. “…Thank you, Zenitsu.”

He turned bright red. “Y-You know my name?!?”

You smiled. “Of course I do.”

Zenitsu nearly fainted on the spot.

______________________________________________________________

🐗 Inosuke Hashibira – “Why Are You Hiding That You’re Cool?”

You were carrying a tray of rice bowls when Inosuke barreled past you in the hallway, nearly knocking it all over. You did not scold him, just carefully knelt and picked it up again. He paused. Watched. Grunted.

The next day, you were cleaning out the koi pond, knee-deep in water, humming a little song to yourself. He watched again from the roof.

“You!” he finally said later, when he cornered you outside the kitchen. “Why are you hiding that you’re cool?”

You blinked, confused. “I… I do not think I am.”

“Yeah, well I do!” he said, pointing at you with two chopsticks. “You carry heavy buckets. You work like a demon. You are sneaky quiet but fast. That’s awesome.”

You laughed, just a little. “I don't think that makes me cool.”

“Then you are wrong!” he declared proudly. “You’re just like a stealthy boar. Like—like a forest ghost. I have decided you are in my pack now!”

“…Your pack?”

“Yes. So you have to eat meals with me from now on.”

You smiled, ducking your head. “Alright, then. Deal.”

______________________________________________________________

ꜱᴛᴏʟᴇɴ 'ʙᴏʀʀᴏᴡᴇᴅ' ʜᴇᴀʀᴛꜱ

Synopsis: Peter Maximoff has a habit of borrowing little things—your scarf, your hoodie, even your headphones—and you’re finally fed up with his carelessness. But when you confront him, his explanation catches you completely off guard: he isn’t just borrowing, he’s keeping pieces of you close. As you unravel the truth behind his impulsive actions, you discover that sometimes, even speedsters need someone to anchor them—and maybe, just maybe, you don’t mind being the one he keeps running back to. Warnings: None! <3

It starts small. A scarf you draped over the back of your chair one evening vanishes without a trace. Days later, you spot it wound loosely around Peter’s neck as he lounges on the couch, the ends fluttering whenever he shifts.

Then it’s your favorite hoodie—a soft, worn thing that feels like a hug in fabric form. You find it carelessly tossed across the rec room sofa, smelling faintly of cool air and his cologne.

You tell yourself it’s harmless, even charming. Peter is Peter: the kind of person who moves too fast to consider boundaries. But when your headphones disappear and reappear in his room—one earbud dangling by a precarious wire—you decide you’ve had enough.

The next time he zips into the room, you plant yourself in front of him, hands on your hips.

"Peter Maximoff," you say, your tone sharper than usual. "We need to talk."

He skids to a stop, blinking at you with wide, guileless eyes. "Uh, okay? What’s up?"

"Stop stealing my stuff."

His expression morphs into mock offense, a hand flying to his chest. "Stealing? That’s a harsh word. I’m merely borrowing. Temporarily."

"Temporarily?" You arch an eyebrow, crossing your arms. "My scarf, my hoodie, my headphones? Borrowing means you return them intact."

"Fine," he sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. "You caught me. But I swear, I’ve got a good reason."

"Let’s hear it."

He hesitates, shifting his weight from foot to foot. For once, Peter looks out of place, like he’d rather be anywhere but here. His usual smirk falters, and something softer flickers across his face—something vulnerable.

"I—" He stops, sighing again, before finally meeting your eyes. "They smell like you, okay?"

You blink, unsure you heard him right. "What?"

"They smell like you," he repeats, quieter this time. His cheeks flush pink, and he looks down, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. "The scarf, the hoodie… even your stupid headphones. They smell like your shampoo, or your perfume, or just… you."

He swallows, his voice almost too low to hear. "When I’m not around you, it makes me feel like you’re still close. Like I’m not..." His words trail off, a humorless laugh escaping his lips. "I don’t know. Alone, I guess."

For a moment, you’re stunned. This is Peter—confident, reckless, always in motion. But now he’s standing here, red-faced and vulnerable, avoiding your gaze like he’s afraid of what you might say.

When you step closer, his head snaps up, his gray eyes searching your face.

"Peter," you say softly, your tone gentle now. "You could’ve just told me."

"Yeah, well." He shrugs, forcing a grin that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. "Talking about feelings isn’t really my thing, you know? Speeding away from them? Way more my style."

You can’t help but laugh, your chest tightening in a way that feels both warm and bittersweet. "You’re ridiculous."

"Ridiculously charming, right?" He tries to smirk, but his voice still holds that edge of hesitation, like he’s testing the waters.

Shaking your head, you smile. "Next time, just ask. You don’t need to steal my stuff to feel close to me."

His grin widens, but there’s a softness to it now, his usual cocky mask slipping just enough for you to see the relief beneath.

"Really?"

"Really," you say, your smile growing. "But if you touch my headphones again, I’m going to kill you."

Peter’s laughter rings out as he zips away, scarf trailing behind him like a silver banner. But later, when you find the hoodie neatly folded on your bed—your favorite scent lingering faintly on the fabric—you can’t help but smile. As much as Peter runs from his emotions, he always finds a way back to you.

What's the one hmo that NONE of your friends can agree with you on? Mine are either 1)

Cardinal Terzo.

BOOM SHACKALA YAS LAWDDD

Or 2)

Taz Skylar

HOW CAN NONE OF MY FRIENDS FIND THIS MAN HOT???

Worlds Apart, Minds Connected

Synopsis; After a mission goes disastrously wrong, you and Charles are separated, trapped in an unstable facility with only a telepathic link to guide you back to each other. As he navigates you through the darkness, your minds grow closer in ways neither of you expected, creating a bond that will be hard to let go once you finally reunite. The question lingers: will the connection forged in crisis survive beyond the danger?

Warnings; None but kissing the LOVELY James McAvoy uggghhhhh-

Requested by @kaley612!

The last thing you remember is Charles shouting your name before the explosion. The impact threw you back, slamming you against something hard and cold. Dazed and aching, you pushed yourself up, trying to make sense of the chaos around you. Dust settled like snowflakes, a reminder of the blast that had ripped through the building.

The connection flares to life—a warmth, gentle and insistent, nudging at the edges of your mind.

“Can you hear me?”

Charles’s voice is like a balm, familiar and grounding. Relief floods through you as you close your eyes, focusing on that connection.

“Yes, I’m here,” you answer, your mental voice steadier than you feel.

“Are you hurt?”

You swallow, taking quick stock. A few bruises, a splitting headache, but nothing broken. “I’ll survive. What about you?”

“Just a scratch,” he says, though you sense he is holding back. “Listen, we’re separated. I can’t get to you from where I am—there’s debris blocking my path. But I’ll guide you. If we keep this link open, I can see what you see. All you have to do is keep going. Can you do that?”

Your heart pounds, but Charles’s steady presence brings an odd calm over you. “I trust you.”

And, for a beat, there’s silence. You feel a brush of something—warmth, reassurance, and a trace of something deeper that he quickly shields.

“Then let’s go,” he says, his voice like a hand reaching through the darkness.

You stand and begin to move, Charles’s presence a constant pulse in your mind. Each step is careful, shadows twisting as you make your way down the broken hallways, Charles murmuring directions and gentle encouragements, his voice steady even when your path grows perilous. If you could be with him right now, you'd kiss him. As a thank you of course. Nothing more.

“You’re doing well,” he says softly, his tone dipped in admiration. “You’re stronger than you think.”

Somehow, with him there—though only in your mind—it feels true.

"Thank you, Charles. Where do I go now?"

"Charles?" Your heart dropped before you heard him again.

"I'm here, I'm here. Just... Do you really want to thank me with a kiss?"

Huh. Shit.

You freeze, heat rushing to your cheeks as his question settles in.

“I… thought you couldn’t see thoughts I didn’t direct to you,” you stammer, trying to push the words out as smoothly as possible.

There’s a soft chuckle on his end, warm and teasing. “That’s true… unless you think it loudly.”

You huff, half-embarrassed, half-defiant. His voice is quieter now, almost reverent. “I’m waiting.”

With renewed determination, you make your way down the dark hallway, Charles guiding you through each step and turn until you see the faint light of an exit. Your heart races, each footfall bringing you closer to him. And then, just as you round a corner, there he is, waiting—dust-covered, scratched, but alive and whole.

Without thinking, you run to him, and he opens his arms, catching you before you even realize you’ve thrown yourself into his embrace. His hands settle around you, firm and reassuring, as he lets out a sigh of relief that mirrors your own.

Before you can second-guess yourself, you press a kiss to his lips, a gesture of thanks, of everything left unsaid. Charles freezes for a fraction of a second, then responds, his lips gentle but warm against yours, his hands cradling you like something he never intends to let go.

When you pull back, breathless and unsure, he offers a small, tender smile. “I think we both needed that.”

“Maybe so," you whisper, a smile breaking through your own exhaustion.

And as you stand there, safe and together, the unspoken promise of something more lingers between you, fragile but very, very real.

(JAMES MCAVOY JUST GIVE ME A CHANCE-)

Plz do not copy or translate! -Callme_Bunni