彡Allies (or Roommates 😉)彡

Crash Course

Synopsis; A quick ride on Jason Todd’s motorcycle turns into a dumpster disaster. As he grumbles and patches you up, you catch glimpses of the care he hides behind his tough exterior—and learn just how much you mean to him.

Warnings; None! Hope you enjoy, kits!

Jason stood beside his motorcycle, arms crossed, the faint glow of a streetlamp reflecting off the red of his helmet tucked under his arm. "Let me make one thing clear," he said, voice firm and low. "You’re not touching my bike."

You raised an eyebrow, arms folded as you met his glare. "It’s just a ride around the block, Todd. Not like I’m planning to join a street race."

He scoffed, his lips pulling into a smirk that didn’t quite reach his eyes. "This isn’t one of your little toys. It’s a Ducati. Custom-built. Worth more than your apartment. You crash it, and you’ll be working for me until you’re sixty."

"Afraid I’ll ride it better than you?" you teased, your grin wide and shameless.

Jason’s jaw tightened, his expression darkening into something unreadable. After a beat, he shoved the helmet into your hands with a sharp glare. "Fine," he said curtly. "But if you lay it down, you’re paying for every scratch, dent, and bolt out of your own damn pocket."

"Deal," you said, practically bouncing as you straddled the sleek machine.

He sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. "Throttle’s touchy. Lean into the turns. And for the love of God, don’t gun it."

You nodded, but you were already revving the engine, adrenaline buzzing in your veins. Before Jason could say another word, you were off, the roar of the bike echoing through the narrow alleyway.

The wind whipped against your face as the bike surged forward, the power of it sending a thrill down your spine. You couldn’t help but let out a victorious laugh. But as the first sharp turn approached, you realized—too late—that you’d underestimated just how sensitive the bike was.

The back wheel skidded. The world tilted. And before you knew it, you and the Ducati went crashing into a dumpster with an echoing clang.

"Shit," you groaned, sprawled on the ground as the bike settled on its side.

Jason’s footsteps were heavy, fast, and loud as he stormed over. He didn’t say anything at first, his jaw tight as he hauled the bike upright and inspected it for damage.

Then he turned to you, his eyes dark and his voice low. "What the hell were you thinking?"

You winced as you tried to sit up, your shoulder protesting with a sharp ache. "I think the bike hates me."

Jason let out a sharp, humorless laugh as he crouched beside you. "The bike doesn’t hate you. The bike doesn’t have a death wish. That’s all you." He grabbed your arm, his grip firm but careful, and helped you to your feet.

You winced again, and Jason’s frown deepened. He guided you to a nearby crate, practically shoving you onto it before crouching down in front of you. His hands were already pulling a small med kit from his jacket pocket.

"Sit still," he muttered, not looking at you as he snapped on a pair of gloves.

"I’m fine," you protested weakly.

"You’re bleeding," he shot back, grabbing an antiseptic wipe and dabbing at the scrape on your arm. "And you’re lucky it’s just scrapes. Do you have any idea what could’ve happened if—" He cut himself off, shaking his head. "You’re reckless. Stupidly reckless."

You tilted your head, watching him work. His hands were steady, but his jaw was tight, his brows furrowed in that way they always did when he was more upset than he let on.

"You’re really worried about me," you said softly, trying for a teasing tone, but it came out quieter than you intended.

Jason froze for a moment, his hand hovering just above your arm. His lips pressed into a thin line, and he didn’t meet your eyes. "I’m worried about my bike," he said gruffly, resuming his work.

"Sure," you murmured, a small smile tugging at your lips.

He ignored you, focusing instead on wrapping your arm in clean gauze. His movements were precise, his touch gentle despite the grumbling under his breath. When he was done, he leaned back on his heels and crossed his arms, finally looking at you.

"You’re banned," he said flatly.

"Jason—"

"Forever," he added, cutting you off.

You sighed, your shoulders slumping. "I said I was sorry."

He shook his head, standing and reaching out a hand to help you up. "Sorry doesn’t fix a totaled bike or a broken neck. Next time," he said, his tone firm, "you ride with me."

His words caught you off guard, and for a moment, you just stared at him. There was something unspoken in his gaze—something protective, almost desperate, that he tried to hide behind his usual gruff exterior.

"Got it," you said softly, taking his hand and letting him pull you to your feet.

Jason grunted, picking up the helmet and tossing it onto the bike. As you both turned toward the alleyway, you couldn’t help but notice the faint tremor in his hand as he ran it through his hair.

"Come on," he said over his shoulder. "Let’s get you cleaned up properly before you start smelling worse than that dumpster."

And as he walked ahead of you, muttering about reckless idiots and ruined leather, you couldn’t help but smile. Beneath all the grumbling, Jason cared more than he’d ever admit.

↫Midnight Snacks↬

Synopsis: In the middle of the night, you are met with an annoyingly awake speedster. Maybe you could share this small moment with him. And maybe like it...

Warnings; none!!

The mansion was silent at this hour, the kind of quiet that made every creak of the floorboards and every hum of the refrigerator seem louder than they actually were. You shuffled into the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, and headed straight for the fridge.

“Midnight munchies, huh?”

You yelped, nearly slamming your head into the fridge door as you spun around. Peter was leaning casually in the doorway, arms crossed and a trademark smirk plastered on his face.

“Peter!” you hissed, clutching the carton of milk you’d grabbed as if it were a weapon. “Do you get off on scaring me?”

“Pretty much,” he replied, zipping into the kitchen and leaning on the counter next to you. “So, what’s on the menu? Leftover pizza? Ice cream? A questionable combination of both?”

“Hot chocolate,” you said, setting the milk on the counter.

“Classic,” Peter said, nodding approvingly. “Mind if I join?”

“Do I have a choice?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Nope,” he said, already grabbing mugs from the cabinet at super-speed. He tossed them onto the counter with a flourish. “Allow me to assist.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling as you reached for the saucepan. “Fine. But no super-speed stirring. You’ll spill everywhere.”

Peter gasped in mock offense. “What kind of culinary amateur do you take me for?”

“The kind who’s broken three blenders trying to make milkshakes.”

“That was one time,” he protested. “Okay, maybe three. But this is different.”

While the milk heated, Peter zipped around the kitchen, gathering whipped cream, sprinkles, and a bag of marshmallows. By the time you poured the hot chocolate into the mugs, the counter looked like a sugar-filled battlefield.

“Subtle,” you said, gesturing to the mountain of toppings.

Peter shrugged. “Go big or go home.”

He grabbed a mug, piling on an absurd amount of whipped cream and marshmallows before sprinkling the whole thing with a generous handful of chocolate shavings. He took a sip and promptly got whipped cream on his nose.

You burst out laughing, setting your own mug down. “You’ve got a little something…”

“Where?” he asked, crossing his eyes in an attempt to see the mess.

“Here, let me—” You reached out to wipe it off, but before you could, Peter licked it away at super-speed, flashing you a smug grin.

“Got it,” he said.

“You’re impossible,” you muttered, shaking your head.

“But charmingly so,” he countered, clinking his mug against yours. “Admit it—midnight snacks are better with me around.”

You sipped your hot chocolate, pretending to think about it. “Mmm… debatable.”

Peter gasped dramatically. “Rude! You’re lucky I like you.”

You smirked, leaning against the counter as the two of you sipped your drinks. The silence that followed wasn’t awkward—it was warm, comfortable, the kind of quiet that came with knowing someone so well you didn’t need to fill every second with words.

“Okay,” you said after a while. “Maybe you’re not that bad.”

“Now that’s the spirit,” Peter said, giving you a playful nudge. “Told you—I’m the ultimate midnight snack buddy.”

So I'm making a Kurt Wagner plushie and I wanna know what you all think! He's not done yet so far but I just need to put on the tail and legs then dye it!

When you see it, REBLOG IT.

Depression Hotline: 1-630-482-9696

Suicide Hotline: 1-800-784-8433

LifeLine: 1-800-273-8255

Trevor Project: 1-866-488-7386

Sexuality Support: 1-800-246-7743

Eating Disorders Hotline: 1-847-831-3438

Rape and Sexual Assault: 1-800-656-4673

Grief Support: 1-650-321-5272

Runaway: 1-800-843-5200, 1-800-843-5678, 1-800-621-4000

Exhale: After Abortion Hotline/Pro-Voice: 1-866-4394253

If you ever want to talk: My Tumblr ask is always open.

Falling Into Place

Synopsis: While accidentally phased out, you overhear Kurt confiding in someone about his feelings for you, leaving you frozen with shock. As soon as they leave, you phase back to solid form, locking eyes with a very startled Kurt, who realizes you heard every word.

Warnings; None!

Requested by @@hulkingharbor, hope you enjoy!

Ghost mutation!Reader

You had not meant to eavesdrop—it was supposed to be a quick shortcut through the wall. But before you could pull away, you heard Kurt’s voice, softer and more hesitant than usual, drifting from the other side.

“She has my heart,” he was saying quietly, almost to himself. “I cannot help it. I have tried to keep it to myself, but… I want to tell her one day.”

Your breath caught as his words sank in, your mind racing with the impossible thought that he might feel the same way you did. The moment his teammate left, you tried to phase out, but your emotions got the better of you, snapping you back to full form right in the hallway.

Kurt turned, wide-eyed as he saw you standing there, surprise flooding his expression. “You heard?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, unable to find the words at first. The warmth in his gaze urged you on, and you finally managed to speak. “Kurt, I feel the same way. I have for a while now.”

Relief washed over him, and a gentle smile spread across his face. “Really? That makes me so happy,” he replied, his voice brightening.

He took a slow step forward and gently reached for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours, his touch both warm and steady. “I was worried I had waited too long,” he admitted softly.

“There,” he murmured, his gaze steady and sincere. “Now we both know.”

With a tender squeeze, he held your hand close, as if he had been waiting all this time just for this moment by your side.

(I LOVE KURT WAGNER AHHHHHHH-)

Please do not copy or translate! -Callme_Bunni

Trapped in the Space Between Us

Synopsis: After a mission goes wrong, you and Scott Summers are stranded together in a freezing storm with no way out. Forced into close quarters, unspoken feelings finally come to light, changing everything between you.

Warnings; None! Enjoy kits!

Requested from @milkbean69!

The jet hit turbulence harder than expected, and you gripped the edge of your seat as the lights flickered. Scott’s voice came over the comm, steady and in control as always, but you could hear the edge of concern beneath it.

“We’re going down,” he said, his tone sharp with urgency. “Brace yourselves.”

You barely had time to react before the crash landing. Everything blurred, and the next thing you knew, the jet had stopped moving. The alarms were blaring, and you scrambled to unbuckle yourself, your heart pounding in your chest.

Scott was already out of his seat, helping you up. “You okay?” he asked, his jaw clenched, his visor reflecting the blinking red lights.

“Yeah, I think so.” You rubbed your arm, where you’d hit the side of the seat, but it was nothing serious. “What about the others?”

“Already on it,” he replied. “Storm’s handling the situation, but we’re going to have to wait here until we can get help. We’re not going anywhere for a while.”

You swallowed hard as you looked around the now-ruined jet. The rest of the team had already gone to survey the crash site, leaving you and Scott behind to secure the ship. A cold wind howled outside, shaking the structure, and it didn’t take long to realize how isolated you were. Snow was piling up quickly outside, and with the jet down and communication systems failing, you were trapped.

Just you and Scott.

“I’ll check the supplies,” Scott said, breaking the silence. He was already moving, trying to stay focused, but you could tell from his body language that he wasn’t thrilled with the situation either.

Minutes passed as you worked to secure the jet’s systems, and the cold air seeped in through the cracks, making the small space feel even smaller. You were both stuck in the cockpit with barely enough room to move, the wind howling louder now, rattling the metal walls around you.

“Guess we’re not going anywhere soon,” you muttered, sitting down on the bench, wrapping your arms around yourself for warmth.

Scott glanced at you, the tension in his shoulders still apparent. “We’ll get out of here. We just need to be patient.” His words were calm, but there was a flicker of something beneath the surface—maybe frustration, maybe concern. It was hard to tell with him sometimes.

The minutes ticked by slowly, the space between you and Scott feeling tighter with every passing second. You could hear him shifting, adjusting his position, trying to stay calm, but it was obvious that being stuck like this wasn’t exactly ideal for either of you.

The temperature kept dropping, and after a while, the cold was becoming impossible to ignore. You glanced at him, catching him watching you. His visor hid his eyes, but the way his body tensed made it clear he had noticed your shivering.

“Come here,” he said suddenly, his voice low but firm.

“What?”

“We need to conserve heat. If we don’t stay warm, we’ll both be in trouble.” He shifted, making room on the narrow bench next to him. “It’s not ideal, but it’s necessary.”

You hesitated, your heart beating a little faster at the thought of being that close to him. Scott wasn’t exactly known for being the most emotionally open person, and the idea of sitting pressed up against him in this tiny space sent a wave of tension through you.

But you didn’t have a choice. Reluctantly, you moved closer, feeling the warmth of his body immediately as you sat down next to him. It was a strange kind of intimacy, one that neither of you had prepared for, but the cold left little room for options. You shifted, trying to get comfortable, though every move seemed to make you more aware of just how close you were to him.

For a moment, the silence stretched between you, thick and heavy, the only sound the faint howl of the wind outside. His arm brushed against yours, and even through your layers, you felt the contact.

Scott cleared his throat. “This isn’t exactly what I had in mind for the mission.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the tension breaking just a little. “Yeah, me neither.”

But even as the small bit of humor lightened the mood, the proximity between you felt more intense than ever. The weight of his presence, the steady rise and fall of his breathing, the warmth of his body—it all pressed down on you, making it harder to think clearly.

The wind outside howled even louder, and despite the layers of clothing and gear, the cold was still biting at your skin. You shifted slightly, your shoulder pressing more firmly against Scott’s. He stiffened for a moment before relaxing, letting the tension in his body ease, as if giving in to the necessity of being close.

For a few moments, neither of you spoke, the air between you filled with the hum of the broken systems and the distant storm outside. But the weight of the silence wasn’t just from the cold. It was something more—something that had been lingering between the two of you for a while, but neither of you had dared to acknowledge it.

Scott shifted next to you, his gloved hand brushing yours for just a second. The touch sent a jolt through you, even though it had been unintentional. You glanced over at him, wondering if he felt it too, but his face was as unreadable as ever behind his visor.

Still, the tension was impossible to ignore.

“I’m sorry,” he said suddenly, his voice quiet, almost hesitant.

“For what?” you asked, surprised.

“For… this,” he gestured vaguely at the cramped cockpit and the freezing conditions. “You shouldn’t be stuck here like this. I should’ve done better.”

You shook your head, unable to stop the small smile that tugged at your lips. “It’s not your fault, Scott. No one could’ve predicted this.”

He was silent for a moment, and when he spoke again, his voice was even quieter. “I should’ve kept you out of danger.”

“Scott, we’re in this together. I chose this life just like you did. It’s not your job to protect me.”

He turned toward you then, his face only inches from yours. The proximity made your breath catch, and for the first time, you could feel the heat radiating off him, despite the cold that surrounded you. His jaw clenched, and his expression softened, like he was wrestling with something inside himself.

“I can’t help it,” he admitted, his voice barely a whisper. “I can’t help but want to keep you safe.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. The raw honesty in them caught you off guard—Scott wasn’t the type to let his emotions slip so easily. You’d seen him be strong, stoic, always in control. But here, now, in this small, confined space, something had changed. There was vulnerability in the way he looked at you, something deeper than his usual sense of responsibility.

You swallowed, your voice quiet. “Why?”

He hesitated, his breathing uneven. “Because you’re… different. You’re not just another teammate. You’re…” His voice trailed off, and he glanced away, struggling with the words.

The room felt even smaller, the air between you thick with unspoken feelings. Before you could second-guess it, you leaned in, closing the small distance between you. Your lips brushed his—soft, tentative, just enough to test the waters.

For a second, he didn’t move, as if frozen by the moment. But then, almost cautiously, he responded. His hand came up to cup the side of your face, pulling you closer, deepening the kiss just enough to make your heart race. The warmth of him chased away the cold, and in that brief moment, the outside world seemed to disappear.

When you finally pulled back, breathless, Scott’s face was still close, his thumb brushing lightly against your cheek. His lips parted, and you could see the conflict in his expression—the careful control he always held teetering on the edge of something more.

“I’ve wanted to tell you for a while,” he murmured, his voice barely audible. “But I couldn’t. Not until now.”

Your heart pounded in your chest. “Tell me what?”

“That I care about you,” he said, his voice firm but gentle. “More than I should. More than I ever planned to.”

You exhaled softly, your own feelings rushing to the surface. “I feel the same way, Scott.”

For the first time since you’d known him, Scott’s guard dropped completely. He leaned in again, capturing your lips in another kiss—this one deeper, more certain. The cold, the storm, the broken jet—all of it faded into the background as the weight of everything unsaid finally found its voice.

When you pulled away again, his forehead rested against yours, and for the first time, the tension between you felt lighter, as if a weight had been lifted. The forced proximity that had once felt like a burden now felt like the moment you both had been waiting for.

Do not copy or translate plz! -CallMe_Bunni

I'm slowly obsessing over this slimy Goober oml-

One Chance

X-Men Evolution Toad x mutant!reader

Word Count: 1,249

Summary: Toad always hears the same answer from you every single time, “no.” What happens when you finally agree to a date.

~~~~~

Don’t judge me, I wrote this after watching X-Men Evolution S3E7: The Toad, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. My man’s deserves love on that show.

~~~~~

“Don’t look now, but here comes your not so secret admirer,” said your best friend Kitty. You let out a little sigh already knowing exactly who she was talking about.

When you had moved to the institute you had expected difficulties. New town, new neighbors, new people who think you’re a freak. But what you didn’t expect was an admirer.

Toad.

Keep reading

THANK YOUUUUUU

Kurt Wagner piñata

Might start writing on this acc since its connected to my laptop

Just got done watchging X-Men '97 ep 9 w my baddie pookie bear

Uhm. What the actual fuck?-