this is the only context i’ll allow country music bc this video is possibly the gayest and most romantic one i’ve seen in my eighteen years on this earth
((prompt: You don’t have a name tattoo on your wrist, meaning you probably don’t have a soulmate but you didn’t want your friends to tease you about it so you had a tattoo made on your wrist about some name you picked at random because your friend said she wanted to see it soon. And then somehow there’s a person claiming to be your soulmate and they’re kind of cute and sweet so you don’t know what to do.))
okay, so ||broken dreams|| was slightly depressing, so lets have some fluff with a dash of angst for this story! I hope you readers look forward to it
warnings: none
**dont repost/plagiarize this story**
word count: 2,800+
——
When you were born, there wasn’t a single name etched on your right wrist.
In the world that you lived in, having a name etched on to the skin of your wrist meant that you were connected to your soulmate. Taking into consideration about the millions of people who shared the same name, people often told you that despite there being many Johns, Teresas, or Larrys in the world, they weren’t quite the same as your John, Teresa, or Larry.
That whenever you met the person destined for you, you would somehow know.
Warren Worthington iii x reader
Prompt: “Scar’s are proof of where life’s failed us.”
Requested? Nope.
Warren looked at his wings every morning, every afternoon, every night, and basically every time he passed a mirror.
And he couldn’t help but feel slightly nauseated at the sight of them.
Ever since his soft, feathery, white wings were taken from him he felt a pang in his heart when he saw the metal knives protruding from his back.
Part of him knew that it was his fault yet part of him wanted to believe it wasn’t. Apocalypse had caught him at a time where he hated his life, if Apocalypse had found him after he had met you it would have been a different story.
You had softened the parts of him that were angry at the world, although it had taken a lot. You made him feel better about his past, made him feel more human after years of feeling like a bird in a cage. You made him feel something more than a bottle of vodka and a shitty late night hook up with some stranger could ever. He was happy, for the most part, because of you.
Every time he finds himself looking in a mirror, hating what he saw, he remembers you. How much you love him and how he loves you.
He remembers the one time you had caught him looking and actually said something.
-/-
“Warren? Are you okay?”
He jerked his head away from the mirror, his wings clanging behind him as he did.
“I’m fine, darlin.” He had said, his shoulders rolling in as he did.
“No you’re not, what’s wrong?” You had walked over to him, reaching up to press your hands gently to the side of his face.
“Nothing, I swear it.” He said, his hands coming to rest on your cheeks.
“You’re lying, angel.” You had said, looking into his eyes and rubbing your thumb along the tattoos on his face “Please tell me.”
He had sighed, looking at his feet. “I miss my wings. My soft wings, not these cold metal things, but my pretty white ones.”
“Oh, baby.” You said, pulling him in for a hug “You’ll get them back, life finds a way for things to go well in the end.”
“But until I get them back, I’m stuck with a constant reminder of helping a monster try to destroy the world.” He grumbled, burying his face into your neck. “It’s like a really bad, obnoxious scar of when things all went wrong.”
“It’s just for now, angel.” You had whispered, running your fingers through his curls and holding him close. “Besides, scar’s are proof of where life’s failed us. Things are better now, and they’ll be better forever. You’ll never go back to being that person again.”
He pulled away, pressing a kiss to your forehead “What would I do without you?”
You had smiling, planting a kiss on his mouth “I dunno, you’d probably be fucking around somewhere dangerous with Peter or Scott.”
He laughed, pulling you in close, “Oh I still do that, I just do it when you’re fucking around with Jean.”
“You’re lucky I love you.” You had said, nuzzling into neck.
“Yeah I am.” He said, smiling widely “I love you with all my heart.”
Prompt:
Maybe Pyro x reader where she is some kind of ice mutant? So there’s this
natural tension because of their mutation and it either gets really smutty or
really fluffy.
Note:
Yaaaaaassss Pyro!
Warnings:
Terrible puns. I am sorry. (No I’m not.) and Swears.
It was a nice, winter afternoon at the X
Mansion. You were in your favorite spot in the mansion: right in front of the
fireplace. Being an ice-bender meant lots of sweaters, lots of shivers, and
most of all, being cold all. the. time.
You were wrapped up in a nice knit grey
sweater with several layers and a scarf on, sipping from a mug of hot cocoa,
and shivering in front of the flickering flames. John walked in, wearing only a
wife-beater and jeans, flicking the cap of his lighter open and closing it, as
was his little habit.
“Hey there, shivers. What’s up?”
“Not much.” You replied, sipping from your
mug, but not looking up from the paper and ink in your hands.
“You know, Bobby never gets as cold as you
do, babe.”
“Don’t call me babe, hothead.” you chuckled. “And
it’s because Bobby has a lid on his powers. I do not.”
“Hothead, huh?” John chuckled, pulling the
fire from the fireplace and manifesting it in his hand. You became colder, if
that was possible and tugged at the sleeves of your sweater.
“John! Not cool!”
“Admit you like me.”
“What? No! Put the fire back and get out of
here!”
“Why? Are you too cool for me?”
“John!”
John closed his fist, putting out the fire.
He shrugged, smirking.
“Oops.”
“Asshole,” you grumbled, your fingertips beginning
to lose feeling.
“Why do you need fire when you’ve got me? I
swear, I give off heat like a fucking furnace.” John hopped over the back of
the couch and sat beside you. He pulled you to his chest, and though you were
hesitant at first, you melted into his touch. He was right. He was so warm.
John laid down on the couch with you on top
of him. You rested your head on his chest and pulled your blanket up around the
both of you. He gently brushed the stray strands of hair out of your face as
you finally, finally stopped
shivering.
“God, you’re so cold,” he said with genuine
concern. You nodded.
“I’m used to it.”
“You don’t have to be. How about I make you a
deal? I’ll keep you warm in the winter, you keep my cold in the summer. Deal?”
“Deal,” you sighed, snuggling deeper into his
warmth.
“Oh, and uh, one more thing.”
“Hmm?”
“Go out with me.”
“Well…” you pretended to think about it, but
tilted your head up to press an icy kiss to his cheek, causing him to smile. “I
guess that’ll have to do. You know what they say. Opposites attract.”
A/N: You got an idea for a drabble send it to my ask box maybe I will write it for you! @seankingofsasscassidy
You were at the mansion hanging out and reading a book in bed. All of the others had gone out to have a drink to celebrate their success on getting a hold of their mutations. Drinking wasn’t really you thing so you had decided to stay home. You hadn’t realized how late it was until you heard the boys stumbling in through the front door shushing each other and obviously trying to be quiet but failing. Setting your book down you went into your bathroom to brush your teeth before you went to bed. When you came back into your room none other than Sean Cassidy was there laying on your bed clearly drunk.
Imagine Kurt reading the bible to his baby in German, while holding their bottle with his tail.
Imagine him singing songs to his baby in German that he sung to himself in the circus when he couldn’t fall asleep.
Imagine Kurt trying to dress his baby, and clashing their clothing, much like he does with himself. He likes to take pictures of them.
Imagine Kurt with a baby strapped on his chest and walking around.
Imagine Kurt letting his baby nibble at his tail idly.
Imagine Kurt looking at his baby with the utmost adoration in his eyes.
Imagine Kurt freezing when his baby touches his face, tracing the marks there. They give him a wide smile and giggle, causing Kurt to smile back at them.
Imagine Kurt making silly noises while feeding his baby. “omnomnomnom”
Imagine Kurt being confused as to how to make a bottle, so he watches you intently when you make them.
It still confuses him, even after watching you and having you explain.
Imagine Kurt teleporting into the babies room when he hears them crying.
Imagine Kurt’s baby having his ears, and his ability to teleport. —Imagine Kurt explaining to his kid(s) about their mutations when they’re old enough.
Toad's Cave 