#but like remi's other version

[skyfallscotland]

*giggles hysterically*

Did I write the things I should have been writing today? No. Did I start something new I absolutely should not have started? Yes, of course.

To be honest, I blame all of you. Far too many of you were enthusiastic about the possibility of Remi bonding both Lía and Sgaeyl, in a world where Xaden went into the infantry. ⚔️🌟

“What is he doing?” I murmur to myself, gripping the scales of Lía’s pommel tight. 

“Pay attention!” Sgaeyl snaps and I whip my head to the side. She’s glaring at me in that ornery way of hers, golden eyes narrowed as she breathes out a steady stream of fire at a Wyvern descending from the clouds above us. Lía rolls, jerking us out of the way as Sgaeyl flips around, aiming her talons at the larger beast’s underbelly. 

“I’m paying attention…” I bite my lip, chastised. 

“No you weren’t.” Lía grumbles. I hate it when the two of them gang up on me. It is usually when I’m endangering my own life, but that’s neither here nor there. Almost against my will, my eyes flick back down toward the ground, checking on the infantry officer’s position. 

He’s been down there for most of this battle, helping evacuate civilians from the township into the old mining tunnels. It’s not the perfect place to run to, given they could collapse under the weight of the mountain, but it’s not like they’re making it up the hill out in the open so… 

Originally, a few of the man’s unit were on the ground with him, helping out, but now only he remains—the captain. My attention is drawn back to the fight in front of me as Lía grasps the wyvern’s neck in her jaws, clamping down as Sgaeyl lashes out again with her talons. The carcass plummets to the ground, landing with a heavy thud. 

“Remi! If we take down the venin riders, the wyvern go down with them!”  Violet calls across our mental link and a sharp smile pulls at my lips. 

“Thanks, sis!” I flip the dagger in my hand I’d been given by my squad leader, Garrick, before we joined this fight. 

“So, where’s the closest?” I ask, wondering if I should unbuckle my legs from my saddle. 

“Don’t you dare.” Lía responds to my thoughts.

Almost simultaneously Sgaeyl swoops downward and says, “below.” My eyes widen and I lean to the side, following her trajectory with my eyes. The female with the staff is standing dead centre in the middle of the field, robes billowing. She slams her staff into the ground and I watch, morbidly fascinated as the ground quickly starts decaying, grass dying in a perfect circle around her. It extends outward like a wave and when it shows no signs of slowing down, my fascination turns to fear. 

“Sgaeyl!” I call out frantically, my head whipping around. My gaze lands on the infantry captain a short distance away where he stands, wide eyes locked on the venin as he helps a woman in brown riding leathers to her feet. A gryphon flier. “Get them, please!” I beg, my heart pounding as I lean forward on Lía’s back, preparing to throw. I can’t watch as my bonded complies, navy scales shining in the sun as she launches herself sideways.

We’re almost directly on top of the venin when Lía turns, providing me with just the right angle to throw my dagger and have it embedding in the venin’s heart. I pull on it with lesser magic, making sure to drive it all the way through and out the other side as Lía and I soar over, before it comes sailing back into my hand. 

The second I verify she’s not getting back up, my eyes are searching, looking frantically for Sgaeyl. I relax a little when I see her form in full flight, headed for the hillside, two decidedly human forms grasped in her claws. I sag back into the seat, relieved. Fuck, that was close. 

Before I have a chance to even think, the sky is erupting, lightning flashing down from a clear, blue sky and then the last of the wyvern are falling, their carcasses shaking the earth below as they rain down. “Good job, sis.” I murmur. 

Something almost cosmic draws my eyes back to the hillside, like there’s a magnetic force dictating my attention belongs there and I frown. Lía moves without me even having to ask. In only seconds she’s perched on the hillside next to Sgaeyl who seems to be in a standoff with an irritated looking gryphon. 

“Are you causing trouble with our temporary allies?” I smirk.

“Oh please, you’d be just as annoyed if you had to deal with it.” It. Like she can’t tell if it’s male or female—or simply doesn’t care because they’re worth less than dirt to her. Amari. I can feel Lía’s judgement radiate down the bond, but it isn’t aimed at her friend, it’s aimed at me. 

“Don’t pretend you aren’t exactly like her.” She gripes and a grin pulls at my lips. She’s right. I am. I pull my legs free, sliding down Lía’s foreleg. The gryphon makes an aborted step forward, but any illusions its under as to who’s in control here are shattered instantly the minute Sgaeyl snaps her teeth in its face. She’s incredibly protective…when she feels like it. 

My eyes run over the infantry captain’s form—I’m finally able to take him in up close and…wow. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more beautiful example of the male specimen in my life. Holy gods. 

He’s wearing the standard dark-blue uniform of the infantry, though I can see some armour peeking out from beneath it that isn’t standard issue. That’s not too out of place though, the more wealthy infantry officers all invest in armour the minute they graduate, if not before. It complements the twin swords peeking over his shoulders, doing nothing to dissuade me of his experience in battle.

He’s tall, tall enough that I’d almost fit beneath his chin…not that I’m thinking about it or anything…and his tawny skin looks radiant in the sunlight. His windblown hair is also decidedly not regulation and in an effort to keep myself from staring at his well-muscled form, I meet his eyes. Beautiful gold-flecked onyx eyes. That does not help. 

“You are so pathetic.” Sgaeyl says and I know without having to turn that the slapping sound that follows is Lía’s tail making contact with her side. I can always rely on her to have my back when it comes to feelings and I am…feeling things. 

“Wh—”

“We don’t need your help.” The flier to his right snaps and for as long as I live, I’ll blame the adrenaline of battle for what happens next. I punch her in the face. 

“Remi!” Lía chides immediately, lodging her teeth in the back of my leathers, dragging me forcibly away from the very upset looking gryphon. 

“If it weren’t for us, you’d be dead.” I seethe. “And I mean that both specifically and in general.” As if their puny little birds could have taken down a single wyvern—what a joke. She stumbles back, holding a hand to her face and the look she levels on me, well…it’s a good thing looks can’t kill. Sgaeyl chuffs out a laugh.

She opens her mouth, no doubt to say something scathing, but the infantry captain shoots her a fierce glare that stops her in her tracks, which is…strange, because they definitely shouldn’t know each other. 

“Thank you. For your assistance.” He offers Sgaeyl a respectful nod, not making eye contact, before his gaze settles on me. “Remi Sorrengail.” He smirks. “I was wondering when I’d get the chance to meet you.” 

I am not ashamed to admit that smirk does something to me. My lips part in surprise. “You…” I suppose there’s not much to say—of course he knows who I am. Everyone in Navarre probably knows by now about the Sorrengail twins and how they both bonded two dragons. “Who are you?” I ask instead, my brow furrowing. 

He steps closer, a small smile playing on his lips, like I should already know the answer. “Xaden Riorson.” He murmurs.

“Oh.” It leaves my mouth unbidden. “That…makes sense.” Only a duke’s son could get away with flouting the infantry dress code and whatever orders they’d been given to retreat, to avoid the oncoming fight entirely. 

“Does it?” He arches a single, perfect brow.

“No.” I reply, deadpan, my eyes darting over to the gryphon flier he clearly knows well. Too well for the Duke of Aretia’s son. Lía snorts, nudging my back with her nose. 

“We need to go.” Sgaeyl says, her voice tight. “Your presence is required.” Someone needs mending, is what she means. 

“Ok.” I sigh reluctantly, glancing over my shoulder at her briefly. I turn back to Xaden Riorson, letting my eyes trail over his face one last time. There’s a diagonal cut bisecting his left eyebrow, blood dripping down his cheek and I step closer into his space, rising up on my toes. Silently, I reach out to cup his jaw, smoothing my thumb over the wound gently. He doesn’t flinch at the sting, heated eyes raking over my features as I mend it carefully, leaving only a silver scar behind. 

I drop back down onto my feet, holding his gaze as I back away slowly, ignoring the way the tips of my fingers tingle. I turn, intending to scale Lía’s foreleg gracefully, but I pause, unable to resist taking one final look over my shoulder. Gods, he’s gorgeous. My lips quirk up. “You’d look better in black, Captain.”

[artemisrae]

Fandom: Hellfire 2022 was the sluttiest Gambit ever!

Kris Anka: Challenge Accepted!

[brandstifter-sys]

What if Roman is just a nickname and his full first name is Romulus? Like he started out matching Remus but he just started liking Roman better and went with it?

[sun-snatcher]

That Kitsch!Gambit is so steamy LORD PLEASE write a Channing!Gambit version. I know you don't write smut but. Just a taste. Please. You'd be doing the Channing girlies a service.

♧ |  own sweet time  ;  ‘24!Gambit

summ.  A supply run goes sour. You and Remy pass time in the Void the only way you know how.  pairing.  Void!Gambit x f!Void!reader a/n.  A blurb. Allusions to smut but really it's just heavy-petting and a make out. Anyway. Don’t look at ME. You people asked for this!

The Void is vast.

Vast usually means quiet.

Which, really, is a double-edged sword for your situation at the moment. It all depends— but logistics is honestly the last thing you’re caring about in this seedy, rundown 80’s Diner that you and Remy have temporarily camped in for the night after that tragedy of a supply run, no—

Not when you’re purring under his heaty touch, and he’s sweeping you off your feet to corner you against the counter with his eyes half-mast, and that damn smirk across his face.

He always likes to play with his food.

“Foldin’ your cards already, chèr?” 

Your hands roam uselessly across the armour over his chest, finding purchase at the thick muscles of his arms caging you in.

“Mh. You’re a cheater,” you volley, dragging him close by his coat and tip-toeing to meet him in a quick there-and-away kiss.

A dimpled smile. “S’only one thing I play dirty at, chèr.”

You roll your eyes, but your huff of laughter betrays you. “You talk too much.”

“That so?” he hums, cutting.

You can’t even answer.

The taunt is enough to have him dipping down, snaking his hand loose around your neck like a collar, and devouring you like his life depended on it. Raw hunger. It sends your world careening; body unravelling. You want to reach out incase you fall apart— you want to be touched and surrounded and kissed.

“Up,” he instructs, voice like roughstone; and when you obliged obediently, let him hike you up around his hips and keep you from falling with nothing but a single arm wrapped around you, he croons out the approval that makes your head swim; 

“Attagirl.”

Some strangled sound— a wanton plea, probably— escapes you. It’s hard to miss his smile against your lips; Likes when you preen for him, the smug bastard. 

He settles you fluidly on a booth table, and you barely have the time to catch your breath until he’s leaning his tousled-head down again, tilting your chin up with his fingers, and nosing a bruising kiss over your lips and to the tender pulse beneath your jawline.

“Remy,” you manage, half-whined and half-croaked. “Please.”

He shushes you. Three consecutive tuts, almost. Chiding. It stirs something in you. 

This— arrangement— has been routine enough for him to know exactly what makes you tick; know what disarms you; lets him have his way. You hardly remember when it all started. Time doesn’t matter in the Void. Somewhere between his suggestive banter, and your wandering gazes, and both of your lingering, purposeful touches— you and he found comfort burying in each other with this make-shift intimacy.

Casual, you remind yourself. This is… casual.

He grazes tongue and teeth against your collar. Canine-sharp. 

Christ. The whole Devil thing makes sense, doesn't it?

And Gambit runs hot. Smouldering to the touch— warm and kindling and as searing as brimstone. You wonder, idly, if it has something to do with all the kinetic energy coursing through him; if it’s ever intentional. An exposed livewire that singes and thrums throughout your body as he mouths at the thin skin of your flesh.

“Remy.” You arch, helpless, trying to get impossibly closer to him.

He slides his palms up, rough and excited, working your body firmly where and how he wants you, back down the cold metal of the table.

It’s enough force that you thud the back of your head.

You barely notice it, too distracted with the pressure of him, but Remy does— and then he’s quickly pulling away from a wet kiss at the hollow of your throat.

“Y’alright?” he withdraws, slowing considerably. Irises fade bright fuschia to sea-green. The roughness in his touch quickly melts away. "M’sorry, chèr."

His powers bleed through sometimes whenever he’s kickstarted with adrenaline; tends to give way and have him end up using more force than necessary. His thumb sits at your bottom lip, breath curling with yours as he checks you over with a flickering gaze.

“It's okay,” you murmur, already pulling him forward. (You forget just how much that Cajun accent of his does it for you.) "Didn't hurt me, sweetheart."

He seals you into a talisman of a kiss. Another apology; a promise. Gambit didn’t mean to, chèr, it translates. 'Lemme make it up to you.

Gentleman at heart. Always. You love it about him.

Gambit may have learned how to make himself a hard read from his years being a thieving, gambling, cheat; but Remy’s touch— sleight, dextrous hands borne from mastered legerdemain— never fails to give everything about him away. 

Everything devolves into something more tender, now. Like he’s making up for his harshness. You can feel his fingers slide from your jaw and run through your hair to cradle the crown of your head— quiet precaution from hitting it again as he latches onto your mouth. 

Subtle awareness; Not only a turn-on, but also sickeningly sweet of him.

Too much, truthfully, for this to be just a casual thing between you both.

Sweeter than whatever had been in the air that day Elektra had sent you both out on a recon that turned sour, and he came away with bruises on his chest so dark he looked like a walking contusion— and you took care of him afterwards in the only way you knew how: 

Sitting astride on his lap, and letting him mould you into his blissful distraction; have him forget the pain; disassemble the raw dread in his marrows after such a close call.

He shifts you carefully to the table edge, nudges your knees wide so he can stand bracketed between your legs. The skirting coat he shoulders slowly slips off.

...God. You’re going to leave half-crescents around his biceps by the time he’s done with you.

“Easy, chèr,” he laughs, when you entwine your fingers with his, anticipatory. It's a cigarette-burn of a voice; drowned in hazy, saccharine affection. “Gambit ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

Too sweet, you want to scold him—

But then he’s pressing against you, looming above you like a shadow, and every single thought dissolves into eager pleasure as he curls another hand under your shirt and drags up, up, up.

Too sweet. Sweet, and takin’ his own sweet time.

Laissez les bons temps rouler, or whatever it is he says.

[caladblog]

i know right know everyone's (correctly!) obsessed with arno for throwing that Molotov cocktail onto the jamis/remy slow burn but i have to impress upon u all just how unwell i am about how luck/maldoror is about ludovica seriously they're like

i'm an evil god. i'm ten thousand past lives in one lesbian trenchcoat. i could kill you any moment. you're not afraid of me? what's wrong with you? be afraid. call me if you need anything. i'm only helping you out of boredom. i'm not impressed by you. you're fascinating. i want to give you the world. i want to raze the cities of your enemies. i'm not giving you my secrets. what do you mean, you're back to find my secrets?? don't you have any sense of self-preservation? oh ok that's a no then. haha same. i've got the sinking suspicion you might be dangerous to me specifically but whatever it's not like i'm the god of good decisions. i'm the manifestation of divine rage and loneliness. i'll physically fight my other selves if they try to hurt you. girl i think you got me experiencing the mortifying ordeal of being known? i don't know what's going on but here's the means to achieve all your hopes & dreams. i'm a pirate. i'm made to destroy the world. you asked me why i haven't destroyed the world yet, oh my god, who DOES that?? tell me to kiss your ring so i can smirk and call you arrogant. you're a baby. you're a speck of nothing. pray and i shall personally answer. no of course i don't have a coherent plan, why did you even ask at this point!

and that's not even as a character arc that's just like! all at once! chaotic monster feelings that stem from being simultaneously a thousand versions of the same monster but also a single person and who knows why anybody wants anything but this want is undeniable as a rising wave and they're excited to find out if they drown in it, appetite of their own appetite,,

hh.

[rebelliousstories]

Shadowy Past

Relationship: Remy LeBeau/Gambit x Reader

Fandom: X-Men

Request: Yes by Anon

Warnings: Fluff, Brief Angst, Mentions of Death and Alcohol

Word Count: 1,221

Main Masterlist: Here

X-Men Masterlist: Here

Summary: One after another, he lost her. Maybe this time will be different?

Consider Donating: Here

Gambit sat in the hideout messing with a playing card between his fingers. On the chair in front of him was her coat draped over it. Not his version though, rather another version that got sent to the Void. This version he had lost just like the others that came before her; taking on Cassandra alone to find a way out. Each time he tried to warn her, but she never listened to him.

Which is why when this new version came, he did not have high hopes for her.

She came in the middle of the night. Dumped in the Wasteland like some many others. It was by pure dumb luck that she had been dropped near where their little hideout had been placed. Sneaking in, she began to look for anything familiar, but only found lamps burning brightly in the night. Taking a bag of chips, the woman began looking around as she was eating. Muffled voices were heard, which sent her on edge. Before she could hide herself, a man stumbled in; and he was heading right to where she was. However, he stopped when he saw her.

“Chere, dat you?” Remy asked, wondering if he had finally found his lover.

“Remy?” Her voice was thick with bewilderment. ”You’re dead. How are you here? What is this sorcery?”

“No, chere. Ain’t dead yet. I’m assumin’ your Gambit is though.” He was dejected as he realized that this was just another variant.

“Yeah. He is. I’m assuming you have a me in your world then?” Remy nodded, grabbed a bottle of whiskey, and began to leave.

“Ya welcome t’ stay, chere. Just try not to go after Cassandra this time. It’s startin’ to get old.” With that, the Cajun left as soon as he had entered. But she still had questions that needed answering.

“Wait,” came her call as she caught up to him. “Where am I? Who’s Cassandra? How are you alive?”

“Chere, it’s been a long day, yeah? Jus’ wanna enjoy a drink without you deciding to go all hero on us. But if you promise not to do dat, you can come meet the others.”

“Others?”

Before her, surrounding the fire that blazed ahead, were four other people. Each one looked worse for wear, and held a somber expression. She tried to place their names to their faces,but she was just drawing a blank.

“Who’s this?” The older woman inquired, with her hand resting on the hilt of something on her hip.

“Who else? Seems like the universe wants t’ punish me for somethin’. Gotta say though, this one seems much calmer than the others.” Remy grumbled, uncapping the bottle and taking a long swig. Afterwards, he passed it to Johnny, who eagerly downed the liquid.

“Hi. I’m not too sure why I’m even here. Or where here is exactly.” She muttered, feeling shy as everyone’s eyes were on her.

“It’s called the Void,” Johnny started, passing the bottle to the woman in red. ”It’s where you go to die, or if you don’t play well with the multiverse. Welcome, again.”

“Well is there any way out?” Suddenly, she noticed how tense everything had gotten. The Cajun that was in front of her rested his elbows on his knees and drew in a shaky breath.

“Cassandra Nova would be the only person to get you out. But it’s a suicide mission. Trust us, we know.” Elektra stated, passing the bottle back to the Cajun who looked like he really needed it now. Without hesitation, he downed several gulps extraordinarily quick.

“So we’re stuck here?” She asked, feeling her heart drop with each second.

“‘fraid so.” Elektra stated once more. She watched what the new person was going to do for a few minutes as she processed the information.

“Is there anymore room, and anymore alcohol?” Coming over, she sat on the same log as Remy who passed her the bottle.

The rest of the evening was filled with introductions, and explanations about what was going on. She was not familiar with the concept of a multiverse, which Johnny was all too happy to explain to her. Throughout all of this though, she could not help but notice how distant Gambit was being. He was hesitant to get involved with any of her conversations, but did keep throwing her looks all evening.

When it came time to sleep, Remy offered her his bed, while he could lay on the ground. But she quickly shot it down. Instead, she offered that they could both sleep in the bed. It was certainly large enough for the two of them. But even with her that close, he could not sleep. Remy could feel the warmth seeping from her body through the pillow wall they had constructed. And that also meant that he could feel when she eventually rolled out of bed in the middle of the night.

She had stumbled through the unfamiliar territory and made her way outside where she could feel the cold seeping into her body. It felt refreshing after she tried to sleep near Gambit. She was constantly telling herself that this was not her own. Her’s had died years ago. This could not be him.

“Chere, whatcha doin’ out here?” He whispered, walking out into the moonlight that they found themselves in. It was so bright that they could have mistaken it for the sun.

“Nothing, Gambit,” came her reply. “Go back to bed. I’ll be fine.”

But he did not listen. Remy came, and plopped himself right next to her on the stone steps. Taking a deep breath in and out, he placed his hands behind him and leaned back.

“Ya know, when I was with my version of you, she would always tell me dat she was fine. Even when she knew dat I definitely saw through it. She always did it because she didn’t want me t’ worry ‘bout her. But it jus’ made me worry more.” He confessed. The evening was pulling from him things that he was sure he had not been able to feel in a long time.

“My Remy, he, um-” she stammered, “he would make me write when he couldn’t get me to talk for whatever reason. Going mute was always a warning sign. I don’t trust easily, and he knew that. When he died, I kind of lost it. I lashed out. But then a little voice popped into my head, and it sounded just like him. It brought me back, and has kept me sane since.” She admitted to the man that she had known for less than a day. But there was something about this Gambit that made her feel safe like her own.

“You travel t’ da Shadowlands anytime recently?” He wondered aloud, looking over at the woman who was watching the moon quietly.

“No, my Remy wouldn’t like it if I did without something or someone to pull me out.”

They got quiet as they allowed the moment to pass over them. Gambit was still staring at her as the night went on. Scooting closer, he pressed his shoulder against her own in a little bit of comfort. Thankfully, she leaned her head against his body, just like his had done. Maybe this was how they always functioned, in every universe.

[dusterbishop]

two thousand years of chasing taking its toll (and it's coming closer)

summary. || three timelines, you have watched remy lebeau die. you didn't believe you would earn a fourth chance to save him until you find a variant with no memory of his past, lost in a void of existence.

pairing. || gambit x f!reader (past relationship with current enemies-to-lovers)

count. || 2.5k

notes. || posted on ao3 here. warning for character death and violence. i have crushed on gambit since the animated series in the nineties so the new movie brought back a lot of feelings.

part one. || part two.

An endless spread of worlds to wander into, and this is the one you choose: Gambit crouches next to you, his breath staggering out of him in pained wheezes, his hand clasping protectively over the nape of your neck.

It is getting harder to see past the blood dripping into your eyes and the sheen of unshed tears. Your abdomen throbs in intermittent waves of little agonies, needling deep in the pit of your stomach. The shots had gone wide, at first, until you had stepped right into them. Gambit had caught you as you stumbled, swearing too fast for your mind to unjumble past the desperate rush of French.

An endless expanse of possibilities, and you are living in this one, dying in his arms. It almost makes you laugh, except it hurts to breathe, and Gambit is supporting more of your weight than he was just a moment ago.

“Now don’ go doing that again,” he manages in English. One hand on your neck, his thumb pressed over your pulse, and the other pressed tight enough against your wound to make the shadows flicker around the edges of your vision. “Mais la, there ain’ gon’ be next time, chér.”

No. There isn’t. You know it as sure as you know how much he’s hiding his own hurt. He had been blown back twenty-five feet and hit the pavement hard enough that he had laid there, stunned, unarmed. His armor had been designed to take the weight of a blow, but he wasn’t dressed for a fight. Neither of you are. So they had aimed at him, and you had made sure it wasn’t him standing there when the guns went off.

Like one breath and the next. In, and you saw his impact, saw the weapons being raised towards him. Out, and you flickered across realities as smooth as Gambit shuffled his cards, every timeline fanning out before you in a sea of possibilities. Endless, countless possibilities.

This is your last Gambit, and you’re killing him just as sure as you’re killing yourself.

“I’m sorry,” you gasp out. Your voice trembles enough to make your lungs seize up. “Remy, I’m sorry.”

“Tant pis pout toi,” he shoots back. “Help Remy get you up, chér, ‘fore they shootin’ us.”

There is no version of you that isn’t broken that still keeps him alive, so you grit your teeth and let him haul you up, steadying yourself in this timeline. It has always been easier to tether yourself to one timeline when you have something to anchor yourself to. He sweeps you up in a bridal carry, and at this angle you can rest your heavy-list head against the warmth of his broad shoulder. He is a solid port of harbor beneath your tethering weight, a rock standing unyielding to the tide around it.

Your second Gambit had been like this, too. That variant had died with a blazing playing card in hand, his mouth twisted in rage, standing before you and the TVA headhunters with all of the bravado and confidence of a hopeless man. A final stand, he had called it. The two of you had gambled and gone all-in only for Gambit to be dead and you to be thrown into another identity.

You had told yourself that you would be better for this Gambit. No vigilante justice or petty crimes. You had gone on your first date to get po' boys and traded familiar barbs while you spun yourself into the web of a narrative that wouldn’t mark you as an oddity in this world. No strange time-skipping mutant here, only a human interested in a man with blackened red eyes and a smooth talking deck of cards.

Playing the odds, raising the bet. Your Remy would have loved that.

This Gambit, though, he dies holding you just like that, cradling you close enough that you feel the breath knocked from his lungs as the bullets find their mark against his unguarded back. You both tumble forward, the impact rattling your bones, your hands lashing out to catch desperately at the sleeve of Gambit’s coat.

Reality warps and trembles around you. You can sense the unfurling of this world’s integrity, like smoothing your hand down the ridge of Oliver or Lucifer’s back and feeling them arch expectantly beneath your touch. Of all your cats, Figaro had always preferred Remy, much to his triumph. This Gambit didn’t have cats; he admitted to being allergic during your third date, and you had to quash the rush of disappointment that rose in you. You had thought to find good foster homes for the boys, at least, in exchange for the sacrifice of loving Gambit. There is some sort of intrinsic symbolism in the fact that they exist just as you two do in every timeline you share.

Not that it matters, now.

“No,” you groan, dragging yourself towards Gambit’s body. Pain lances through your abdomen in arcs of lightning. It’s nearly as debilitating as the sight of him. He’s hunched over on his side, one hand still outstretched limply towards you, the other awkwardly twisted beneath his body. Your voice wretches out of you in a pained wobble. “No, no, no.”

You take his hand and close your eyes at the fading warmth. This is the third time you’ve watched him die. You don’t know what to do anymore. The pain in your abdomen is a vicious throbbing ache in beat with your heart, a clashing crescendo descending upon your head just as disorienting as the footsteps picking their way towards you. They will shoot you in the back and call it a well-fought battle. They will destroy your body with Gambit’s and never speak your names to anyone in this world’s timeline again. As if you are nothing.

As if this version of Gambit, with his purring accent and smooth-striking dealer hands, is nothing more than an obstacle in the way of the true prize of killing you where you lay bleeding.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper to Gambit. You have to let go of his hand so you don’t take his body with you, and then you let reality shift and expand around you, demanding the timeline to come to heel, shuffling the next five minutes into a ribbon-spread of flashing images.

One minute: you come to your feet. This is almost the hardest part. You have to find a version of yourself that is stable enough to handle the staggering weight of the transition. Your body has been operating in survival mode for far too long, especially in this timeline where you met the new Gambit in the throes of angry grief. You hardly recovered before you threw yourself into society with a desperate hope to attract him back into your orbit. This version of your body feels calm and refreshed, which must mean it’s from right after your second date with Gambit, when he escorted you home and wished you goodnight and you fell asleep with a smile on your face.

Two minutes: you see Gambit. His eyes are half-open and glazed with death, staring far into a horizon you can never reach. He would still be alive if you had never crossed timelines to search him out. This world’s version of you had been killed while you were still young and unpracticed in hiding your power. It had been easy to slip into the vacant space and fill it up with a new identity. He had never known your real name, just the mask you wore to allure him closer to you. You see him, laying there, and all you can remember is his shocked laugh when he noticed the way you ate your sandwiches with a fork and knife. Chér, ought’a you honte, non?

Three minutes: you kill them all.

Four minutes: every single one of them. This is the easiest part.

Five minutes: you have to exchange your borrowed body with your current one, and that is the hardest part. You can feel the seams of your borrowed self strain under the weight of your rapid time-skipping, further stretched thin by the pain of your current self. A wounded body decays far faster when you aren’t occupying it. It’s a reluctant exchange, and you stumble beneath the sudden weight of your current self as it wraps around your consciousness. The impact to the ground is faster than your changing, too fast to feel the echo wave of pain. You retch blood and bile, turning your face to avoid choking on it.

You will be nothing more than another corpse beside Gambit’s in a minute. You can feel the timeline of death fogging your mind, muffling your reflexes. You have exacerbated your own death by orchestrating theirs. It’s not a surprise: when Gambit fell, his breath knocked right out from him, you had felt that same jarring finality.

Only this time, only for you, when you close your eyes in death, you open them in another world entirely.

It's a battlefield.

Not surprising. Your hand automatically goes to the small of your back, fingers curling around the cool polished wood of your bo staff. With one fluid flourish, you pull it out from its sheath and extend the length, timelines humming in your hand with the same buzzing tempo of Gambit's kinetic energy. Unlike his power, your staff doesn't glow blazing violet. In one moment and the next, it simply snaps into its full length, the air hissing with displaced energy.

Once, with your Remy, he had settled himself in an armchair in your shared apartment, half-drunk with one of the cats in his lap, and he had demanded to watch you cross timelines. It took small objects, at first. A coffee cup across the room, a pair of your underwear from the bedroom, the cat purring underneath his very touch. You had been a little less drunk from your night out together, but it had been exhilarating to perform for him in a way that affected you far beyond the influences of alcohol. The weight of his black-red eyes lingering over the curve of your figure could take you apart as sure as any timeline.

He had been mystified yet delighted at your display of prowess. Y’a natural Houdini, eh, chér?

 That wasn’t quite true, though. You didn’t disappear, you simply… rearranged yourself to exist in a state of your choosing, from a time of your choosing. You had explained it to Remy like this: like choosing the channels on T.V. until you found a show you liked. Except instead of old reruns of some sitcom, you were settling on a state of existence.

Your weapon of choice - the bo staff, much like the one Remy trained you with - comes from another version of yourself. It weighs a perfect balance in your palm because it was made for you, even if you were not the one to personally commission its design. The staff whistles sharply as it cuts through the air, singing its anticipation as you swing into action, adrenaline from the fight with the hunters still raging in your veins. It’s a relief to be distracted from the last image of Gambit, dead.

Instead, you revel in the finesse of an unfair fight.

There seems to be four men surrounding you, their faces a blur of distant familiarity. Some part of you had met them, before, in another time. You could have tried to find the names to their faces if they weren’t fully committed to trying to kill you. Battle comes to you easier, and perhaps you are indulging in the violence when you could have stepped away and gone to another time.

But, perhaps, you are so fucking tired of being anything other than a violent, selfish thing.

It’s all smooth motion, to fight like this. Alone. No need to worry about a Remy LeBeau by your side in case the reckless fool got himself killed trying to protect you. You think to your Remy: I told you nothing was going to happen to me, LeBeau. I exist in so many timelines that it doesn’t matter what happens to me.

It doesn’t matter what happens to you. Not even when one of them strikes you across the face with the sharp bend of their elbow, cutting your cheek against your molars and filling your mouth with blood. You merely shuffle the deck, pull another card, draw a version of yourself with no blood and just as much battle-hardened pain tolerance. So many versions of you can handle the aftershocks of pain that your stride hardly stutters as you swing your staff and sweep his feet out from under him. Another swing, a sickening crack of a wood impact to an unprotected skull, and you keep moving to the next target.

Another hit to your ribs, hard enough to knock the breath from you. Shuffle, pull, draw. Your new borrowed body takes the hit without notice and crushes the faceless attacker’s windpipe, cutting off his shriek of pain in a gurgling wheeze. The next one tries to make a move while your back is turned, and you move to meet him, staff swinging, mouth twisted in a grimace. You can feel the timeline bending to stretch thin around you, taut with the rapid succession of your draw. Your blood thunders in a raging crescendo in your ears. There is a limit to how much you can take before you splinter apart.

You just don’t know if you care to heed that limit, anymore.

Another swing. Shuffle, draw, pull. This version of you switches from the long reach of your bo staff for the more intimate versatility of twin blunt-ended sticks. It works well for close combat. So well that your opponent has to keep to the backstep to avoid your blows, shuffling out of range.

So well, that you forget that there were four.

The pain that cracks across the back of your skull sends you to the ground in an instant. Your hands spasm and release the sticks, but not fast enough to soften the blow of your sudden fall. The timeline whines a high-pitched whir around you, unsteady in the relentless time-skipping.

Too bad, you think distantly. This is a quick life for this timeline of yours. A violent, lonely one. It is grim, but there is a quiet relief in the end beckoning you closer. The quick ones are the easiest. It only really kills you when you have to linger in the shadow of your self’s presence. A living ghost. That’s all you really are. You just haunt the narrative of your own lifetimes.

You, and Gambit.

Blazing purple flashes across your vision, and the timeline whirs again, except it isn’t, because you haven’t used your dealer’s hand. It isn’t your power charging the air with magnetic energy. It is all Gambit’s. Of course it fucking is.

How ironic for you to find him now, in this timeline where he has never known your name, when you are already dead? You close your eyes to silently curse out whatever pathetic higher being found fit to orchestrate your life into this circus sideshow.

“Cherchez la femme,” he says. His accent is lilting in its coyness. “Found ya’, chér.”

[cera-writes]

can you do a story gambit where reader is a mutant or just has the power to either travel through the multiverse or see into different universes and she’s in a relationship with remy and she sees that gambit and rogue are together in every universe except theirs and reader ignores him because she thinks that they should be together so basically some angst and shes comforted by remy maybe some smut? 🤗💕

A/N: thanks for requesting this! This was such an interesting prompt and I had fun writing it! Pairing: Remy LeBeau x F!Reader Tags: nsfw, angst, comfort/hurt, sweet reassuring smut

In this Universe

You stand in the dimly lit room, your eyes fixed on the swirling portal that connects to countless alternate realities. The air around you crackles with energy, a tangible reminder of the power coursing through your veins—the power to see and traverse the multiverse. Your partner, Remy LeBeau, stands beside you, his hand resting reassuringly on your shoulder. His eyes, though masked by the shadows, betray a concern that mirrors your own inner turmoil.

"Qu'est-ce qui te tracasse, chere?" Remy's voice is soft, tinged with his usual Creole accent that still managed to wrap around your heart like a warm and inviting embrace.

You hesitate, torn between sharing your recent discovery and the fear it might shatter the fragile peace you've built together. "I... I've been seeing things, Remy. In other universes."

His grip tightens slightly, encouraging you to continue. "Go on, tell Remy."

"In every universe I've seen, you and Rogue are... together. Always." The words hang heavy in the air, laden with unspoken implications.

Remy's expression remains calm, but you can sense the undercurrent of tension. "And what does dat mean fo' us here?"

You turn to face him, searching his eyes for any hint of what he might be feeling. "It means... maybe we're not meant to be together. Maybe our story was written for someone else."

A muscle ticks in his jaw, but his voice remains steady when he speaks. "So, you think we should jus' give up because some versions of us didn't make it work?"

The question stings, not because of its sharpness, but because of its accuracy. You sigh, looking back at the portal. "I don't know what to think anymore."

Remy steps closer, tilting your chin up so you meet his gaze. "Listen to Remy, chere. Our love, it's real. It's ours. Not some borrowed fairytale from another world."

You want to believe him, to cling to the warmth of his words, but the images from those other universes keep flashing through your mind—Rogue and Gambit, laughing, fighting, loving. "What if we're just living out someone else's destiny?"

Remy shakes his head, his eyes burning with an intensity that surprises you. "No. Dis, us, it's ours to shape. Ours to fight for."

You feel a tear slip down your cheek, caught off guard by the depth of emotion in his response. "But how can we be sure?"

He brushes the tear away with his thumb, his touch gentle yet firm. "Cause I choose you, every day. And Gambit'll keep choosing you, no matter what those other worlds show."

His words resonate within you, stirring something deep and primal. "Remy..."

Before you can finish, he presses his lips to yours, a fierce declaration of intent that leaves no room for doubt. The kiss is passionate, desperate, as if he's trying to imprint himself upon you, to drown out the visions of other realities with the reality of his love.

When he pulls back, his eyes are dark with desire, his breath coming fast. "Let's make our own story, chere. One dat those other worlds will envy."

You nod, your resolve strengthening with each beat of your heart. "

"Please." You needed the distraction desperately to keep from coming apart at the seams. You needed him to ground you and make you really believe that this was your universe with him and that's all that mattered, otherwise, you don't think you could handle anymore of these visions.

"I'm right here, chere." He squeezed your hand.

Together, you turn back to the portal, hand in hand, ready to confront whatever challenges lie ahead, united in your decision to forge your own path, regardless of the echoes from parallel worlds.

You grip Remy's hand tightly as you step into the swirling portal, the sensation of being pulled apart and reassembled in a different reality washing over you like a tidal wave. The colors blur and merge, creating a kaleidoscope of visions that threaten to overwhelm your senses.

"Focus on me, chere," Remy's voice cuts through the chaos, steady and reassuring. You lock eyes with him, allowing his presence to anchor you as the world around you shifts and morphs.

Suddenly, the disorientation ceases, and you find yourselves standing in a lush, overgrown garden. The air is thick with the scent of blooming flowers, and the soft hum of insects fills the silence. You look around, recognizing this place—it's one of the alternate realities you've seen before, where Gambit and Rogue are deeply in love.

Remy seems to sense your unease. "Show Gambit what troubles you," he murmurs, leading you deeper into the garden.

As you walk, the scenery changes subtly, transforming into a scene from your visions. There, under a weeping willow, stands Gambit and Rogue, their bodies entwined in a passionate embrace. Your hands start to shake as anxiety takes over again. The sight stings, but before you can turn away, Remy pulls you close.

"Look at dem, but see us," he whispers against your ear, his breath warm and comforting. "Feel how our hearts beat as one."

You close your eyes, focusing on the solidity of Remy's body pressed against yours, the steady rhythm of his heart matching your own. When you open your eyes again, the vision of Gambit and Rogue fades, replaced by the vivid reality of Remy's intense gaze.

"I see only you," you confess, your voice barely above a whisper.

Remy smiles, a flicker of relief softening his features. "Good. Now, lemme show you why Gambit chose you."

He leads you to a secluded clearing, where the grass is soft and inviting. The sunlight filters through the leaves overhead, dappling the ground with golden light. Remy kneels, gently pulling you down with him.

"Here, in dis place dat isn't ours, we'll make it ours," he says, his hands tracing the curve of your waist. His touch sends shivers down your spine, igniting a fire within you that burns brighter than any multiverse illusion.

You reach up, tangling your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer. His lips meet yours in a searing kiss that speaks of promises and possession. The world around you melts away, leaving only the two of you, locked in a battle for dominance and surrender.

Remy's hands roam freely, exploring every inch of your body with a reverence that makes you arch into his touch. "You're beautiful," he murmurs against your skin, his voice rough with desire.

You gasp as his teeth graze your neck, marking you as his. "Remy," you breathe, your need rising like a tide.

He looks up, his eyes dark with passion. "Say it again, chere. My name," he commands, his voice a low growl.

"Remy," you repeat, more urgently this time, your body aching for more.

With a groan, he presses you back against the grass, his body covering yours. The weight of him feels perfect, grounding you in this stolen moment of reality. It almost doesn't feel real. His kisses trail down your throat, his hands mapping your curves with possessive strokes.

"You're mine," he asserts, punctuating each word with a sharp nip to your skin. "In every universe, you're mine."

The intensity of his declaration sends a thrill through you, fueling your own hunger. You wrap your legs around his waist, urging him closer. "Prove it," you challenge, your voice husky with arousal.

Remy grins, a feral spark lighting his eyes. "With pleasure, ma chere."

He shifts, aligning himself with your core, and with one powerful thrust, he shears through your barriers, claiming you completely. You cry out, a mix of pain and ecstasy ripping through you as he fills you, joining your souls in a union that transcends the multiverse.

"Y-yes... yes!" you pant, clawing at his back, desperate to feel every part of him.

Remy moves inside you, his strokes deep and relentless, each thrust a testament to his devotion. "Look at me," he demands, forcing you to meet his gaze. "See only me, darlin'."

You do, your vision blurring with tears of joy as you drown in the crimson and black of his eyes. "Always," you promise, your voice breaking with emotion.

His pace quickens, driving you both towards the precipice. "Together," he gasps, his forehead resting against yours. "Forever."

With a final, powerful surge, he pushes you over the edge, your bodies convulsing in unison as waves of pleasure crash over you. You cling to each other, bodies slick with sweat, hearts pounding in sync.

"Ours," Remy breathes, collapsing beside you, his chest heaving with exertion.

You turn to face him, your fingers tracing the contours of his face. "Ours," you agree, sealing your pact with a tender kiss.

As you lie there, wrapped in each other's arms, the garden around you begins to fade, the portal calling you back to your own reality. But for now, you're content to stay lost in this stolen moment, secure in the knowledge that no matter the multiverse, your love will always find its way home.

[bloodyshadow1]

I'm really in a storm x wolverine mood. I don't normally care for m/f ships (because lets be real neither of them are straight) but I've loved the two of them together since I was a kid and first watched the animated eps One Man's Worth. It was just so refreshing to see from the played out love triangle that haunted the series and would never stop.

Storm and Wolverine were two people in love in the end of the world, and they were sweet with each other. I like them as friends, but they have one of the best relationships, platonic or romantic, in the history of X-men imo. I think what makes them work better than most is they're kind of the perfect version of friends to lovers, though they start out kind of antagonistic to each other.

But truthfully, I think that makes them work best is that they see each other completely for who they are. To Logan, she's not just storm the superhero, the goddess, or the most beautiful woman in the world. She all that and more because to him, she is Ororo. To Ororo it's the same thing, he's not just wolverine the edgy hero, the savage beast in man's skin, the heartbroken immortal. To her, he's also everything and more in Logan (or James depending on when, but I think to Ororo he is Logan).

They're a great contrast, that works to compliment each other in ways most x-men couples don't. It's not just about the big epic moments in their relationship. It's him jumping in front of her as a shield, be her side as a companion and partner, or behind her following her charge. It's about how gentle and kind she is to Laura, who is his daughter when no one else is. It's that he could be the angriest he's ever been and she could get him to stop with a word, that she's not afraid to stand in front of him with his claws drawn. It's when she is freaking out and letting her powers run wild, it's him tanking wind and lightning if it means being able to comfort her. It's him being willing to kill anyone that hurts her, that threatens her, that's rude to her, that makes her cry, but stopping short, both because he knows she wouldn't want that and also because he knows she can take care of her self and get her own justice. It's her never leaving him alone to wallow in his sorry when they lose someone, even when he tells her and everyone else to leave. It's the two of them having a slow gentle night together drinking and remembering.

Again I don't normally gush about m/f couples but I really love the two of them. And I hate that Marvel will never let the two of them be happy together, at least not for long. It genuinely bothers me how they'd be perfect for each other, but never get a chance to, while the same boring love triangle is still something after decades. I will ship these two in every form of x-men media no matter what marvel says because I'd rather have a few sweet moments with them being friends than most of their canon relationships. (not Romy, Rogue and Remy are also precious to me)

[feral-childs-word]

Love oh mine

Remy le'beau X Gn!reader

Description: Having moments to yourself especially after working but your clingy husband decides he wants to do it with you too.

This is a oneshot meaning there will be NO part 2

Warnings: Lovey dovey shit, made by a MINOR, Remy being a lovesick fool, I think Remy is a little ooc, mentions of sex (only once)

A/n: Guy you do NOT understand how much I love this man- anyways this is the animated version of gambit the older.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"Remy get your fat ass off of me." You let out a tired groan. Taking a nap after a long day teaching children at Xavier's school was long and eventful but getting a much deserved nap.

But waking up to your husband on you snoozing away was fine he felt nice like a nice heavy blanket but at this moment in time right now you needed to use the bathroom and your blatter isn't going to hold in much longer.

"Five more minutes cher." Remy groans softly shuffling a little. His arms which were wrapped around your waist tightened not wanting to loose the nice position he got comfortable in.

"I need to use the bathroom Remy." You groans finally pushing him away and into the mattress. Your muscles aching slightly from the work you endured before your nap. Remy groans softly turning his head towards you. You glanced back almost giggling at the soft pout he was holding.

"Quit your pouting and don't be dramatic just like in Vegas." You chuckled standing up and letting out a stretch groaning quietly as your bones popped. Sighing softly you walked to the bathroom letting Remy watch you walk to the bathroom still holding a pout.

"You still remember Vegas?" Remy asked shifting so his arms where holding him up watching you walk to the bathroom mainly your ass.

"Of course I remember Vegas that was the best sex i ever had." You laughed from the bathroom. Whole Remy groans and plants his face on the mattress. The tip of his ears where turning into a soft shade of pink from the memories that happened in Vegas.

"Oh poor little Remy~" You cooed and laughed once finishing your duties in the bathroom and walking out seeing Remy. "Don't tease gambit cher" Remy groans softly picking up his face and huffing while he calmed down.

"Now come here cher, gambit is getting loney here, yeah" Remy says shifting and opening his arms open wide like an invitation. You rolled your eyes but smiles either way while walking towards the bed and first sitting down slightly cringing at the small creak from the springs that held both you and gambit. You moved from your sitting position and laid next to Remy who immediately wrapped his arms around your waist and gently tugged you closer so you were basically chest to chest.

Remy hums in satisfaction and leans his head on your chest. His eyes closed ready to go back to sleep at any moment. You on the other hand smiled and combed through Remy's thick yet soft orangish yet reddish hair. Remy groans in pleasure leaning closer while he slowly goes back to the dream world.

"Goodnight Remy." You whispered softly, your eyes blinking more slowly now. You tensed a little while you yawned and relaxed letting out a soft sigh out of your nose. Your eyes finally closed basking in the calming moment with your husband.

This moment was a good one. You could get used to more of these naps during the day..

SNORE

Never mind..

[y2sims]

Some of @powerpcinside Hair Conversions Recolored in The New Hair System.

colors by pooklet.

textures by remi (most hairs originally retextured by powerpc).

re-binned, familied, tooltipped and compressed.

all the meshes are included.

i've been eyeing powerpc's hairs for a while now because they use pretty much the same colors and textures as the new hair system does, except the red color (they use explosive, nhs uses pyrotechnic). i thought of making a bunch of pyrotechnic recolors to pair with the other existing colors and i decided to re-bin them together and re-link the grays to black and so on, like i usually do with my hairs. i used powerpc's retextures as a base and i decided to include their dynamite, depth charge and incendiary retextures for consistency (except for curbs 118, ginko jolyne and leahlillith riku, those i recolored in all colors by myself), so all the credit goes to them!

if you have any questions, feel free to ask. i don't know the poly counts of all the conversions because they weren't disclosed and i still can't figure out how to check them myself 😅

links to folders where you can find all the hairs:

SIMFILESHARE // MEDIAFIRE

↓ more info under the cut ↓

Curbs 118

ages cf to ef

?? polys

original from here

retexture by me (but i used powerpc's textures from curbs 120 as a base)

Curbs 120

ages cf to ef

?? polys

original from here

Ginko G110F

ages pf to ef

15k~ polys

original from here

Ginko Jolyne

ages cf to ef

?? polys

original from here

retextured by me

LeahLillith Riku

ages cf to ef

15k~? polys

original from here

retextured by me

Reina 89 + alpha edit

ages pf to ef

10k~ polys

original from here

alpha edit by me

Satterlly Astarion - unisex

ages pu to eu

12k~ polys

originals from here & here

S-Club 01YM23

ages tf to ef

20k~ polys

original from here

VivianDang Elwin - unisex [updated version!]

ages cu to eu

15k~ polys

original from here

VivianDang Thasia - bangs version

ages cf to ef

12k~ polys

original from here

Wings EF0120 - unisex

ages cu to eu

12k~ polys

originals from here

Zao Smart

ages cf to ef

15k~ polys

original from here

[dollya-robinprotector]

Alex be like: that's me my cute girlfriend (partner), her childhood friend boyfriend, her enemy to lovers boyfriend, her religious trauma boyfriend, and her yandere boyfriend.

Two of them live in my house. One of them plays games all day, but he is cute. At least the second one can fight.

Also that art of Whitney and him and PC going from hating each other guts to somewhat partnership, to Whitney getting (realizing) that he has a crush, he had a crush even before that, and be like: WHAT THE FUCK?

LOL and they will evolve into a poly-rela family and whenever Remy and Baily come to wreak havoc Robin would have to try and distract the kids from all the commotion outside, where their mom and two other dads are... fighting the bad guys loudly.

I haven't thought of Kylar and Syd moving in just yet because... well they clearly still have their own home~ But if somehow these boys can find common ground and agree to work together, I'd be more than happy to let Lya give them their "mini versions" lol

[dinogoofymutated]

Hey!!! Thank you again for Remy's one shot, it was amazing!!

I saw that you would like ideas for Cable and Warren, and I may have a few...

Especially for Warren....

I'd love to see Warren and mutant! Reader that "hate" each other, and reader thinks she has no chance with him, so she goes on a date. Warren is jealous and watches over her, and swoops in once the date goes sideways.

Words are said, feeling we shown, and Warren giver the fairytale kiss. (Could end with them going at it on a rooftop...)

Could be sfw or nsfw, either way I'll enjoy it immensely!!! I can't wait to see more of your work ❤️

Sfw! Warren/Fem!reader

OMGGGG UGG I LOVE THIS SM!!! I have a slight obsession with prompts like this- soooo yeah lololol. Oh! Also, I feel like I should mention this is more based off of comic and show warren, and not the version of him from the apocalypse movie. Hope this isnt too OOC!

Tws: Bad date, Warren is kind of an asshole but we love him. Kissing in the rain.

Warren Worthington is a dick. He's always teasing you, snatching your books, and pencils, and really everything you meed and holding it out of reach. He'll thwak you with a wing on purpose, always saying some stupid excuse like "Oh I didn't see you there." When you know damn well he did.

And he's not even like this to anyone else! It's incredibly frustrating, especially with how often he'll just up and completely ignore you to go flirt with Jean- who's still with Scott, might I add! Ugh!

It shouldn't matter to you whether or not he flirts with other people- the guy was clearly uninterested in you. But you just... can't help it. You really liked Warren, more so before this whole event started, when you didn't know him that well but couldn't help but blush at some of the things he did. You knew he could be kind, and he had a sweet side to him despite the cocky persona he's always pushing. (Because is it really a persona at that point?) But he just seemed so out of your league. Around the time you started pulling away from him was when the teasing started up, and to be honest, it had just confirmed your thoughts that Warren didn't like you.

Whatever, though. You'd get over it. You wanted to get over it. And the opportunity was presented to you to do just that. You had been out shopping one day with Jean when a man had approached you- not Jean, but you. It was really surprising, as most men would completely skip over you to talk to your beautiful best friend. You didn't hold any resentment towards her, it's not like she can help it. But when a rather attractive man approaches you, asking you on a date? You couldn't help but be flattered.

    You were excited! Really, really excited for this date. You had put on a cute outfit, even throwing on a little makeup, dresses to impress you know? Plus, your date was really attractive, and for some reason, you felt like you needed to spruce yourself up a little bit to impress him. It had taken you forever to be happy with your look, with Jean reassuring you over and over that you looked perfect and that everything would be fine!

    Eventually, his car pulled up in front of the mansion to pick you up for your date. You only had to glance at the window before you were running down the stairs excitedly. Of course, leaving couldn’t be all that easy, could it?

    “What are you all dressed up for?” You hold in your groan at the sound of Warren’s voice. He’s leaning against the foyer wall, cocking an eyebrow at you with a smirk that makes your heart do something funny. Didn’t change the fact that you kinda wanted to punch him. 

    “If you have to know, I’m going on a date.” You say, rolling your eyes. His smirk drops immediately, but you don't really notice as you put your shoes on. 

    “A date? With who?” Warren Pushes himself off the wall to approach you, grabbing hold of your arm to keep you from running off just yet. You make a face at him, confused and a little annoyed at his attention. 

    “A guy. He asked me out while Jean and I were at the mall, not that you really need to know.” You snark. Warren scoffs at that, looking a little frustrated. He begins to talk again, but he’s cut off by the sound of a horn honking from outside. Your face falls, and your stomach drops at the sound. Your date must be impatient. You don’t like the implications of that. Warren looks angry, letting go of you as he takes a step back.

    “You’re really going to leave with a guy who doesn’t bother to ring the doorbell?” He asks. You can’t find any words to say, feeling a little hurt. You turn away from him, quickly opening the door to leave. Warren can see your face light up a little as you wave at your date, closing the door behind you. Warren’s wings sag a little, left in the foyer looking like a lost puppy without you. 

    “You know, if you were nicer to her you probably would’ve had a chance.” Warren sighs dramatically at the sound of Bobby’s voice, turning to see that he had been watching the whole time, eagerly munching on a bowl of cereal.

    “Can it, dude”

    The fact that you're going on a date doesn't sit well with Warren. There's a pit in his stomach that he can't seem to shake, and when he tried to talk about it, Bobby and Scott just waved him off, telling him he was just jealous- and well, he was. But that wasn't the point! He didn't like that you were going on a date with someone random, or anyone besides him, really. He just had a bad feeling about it all.

    He knows he doesn't really have the right to be as jealous as he was. The two of you weren't together- but at some point, he thought you would be. He liked you. More than friends should. He had for a while, but you started to pull away from him- so he started to do anything he could to get your attention. Sure, he wasn't exactly being nice, but he wasn't being mean. He wasn't trying to bully you or put you down, he was just… teasing. 

     Warren had been couped up in the library as the evening went on, staring out the window with a sigh as it had started to pour. He had been thinking a lot about what Bobby had said earlier, dwelling over it constantly. Normally when he was so caught up in thoughts like this he would fly around the mansion to clear his head, but with the storm outside that definitely wasn't going to happen. He sighs, resting his head against the window while his eyes begin to drift close, but a movement in the corner of his eye catches his attention.  He sits up a little bit, squinting at first to see whatever it is through the rain. When he finally realizes, it is like he was hit over the head with disbelief. 

...

     The rain was cold. You were shivering as you walked along the asphalt driveway up to the mansion doors, sniffling the whole time. You knew you looked like a mess, mascara running down your cheeks in inky black streams, soaked to the bone without a jacket to keep you warm. The date was a bust. You should have known better. Been smarter. Hell, you should have asked someone else to drive you so that you wouldn’t be stuck in this situation in the first place. Or at least brought your wallet so that you could’ve used the payphone to call someone to come get you. But here you are. You were sad, wet, and despairing over the long walk up the driveway, but at least you were back at the mansion. 

    It’s hard for you to see through the heavy rain, so you keep your head down towards the ground to keep the rain out of your eyes. You don’t even realize that someone had run out to get you until you hear footsteps splash through the puddled driveway. You try your best to wipe the tears from your eyes, praying that they won’t be able to tell with the rain, but it is hard to hide the puffy red face the tears left behind. 

    You don’t really want look look up when you feel the rain stop, already knowing who it is by the sound of his gait. Warren holds the umbrella out to you, and you take it. He has his trench coat over his arm, and he uses the extra hand to wrap it around your shoulders. It’s awfully big on you, but it’s warm and dry, and you're thankful. You wipe at your eyes again when Warren takes the umbrella back, trying hard not to start crying.

    “What happened?” Warren asks. You finally look at him, and the concerned look on his face just makes you feel worse. Your face scrunches as you tear up again, and you look up at the umbrella as you try to avoid the embarrassment. You don’t really know what to say. You don’t really want to say anything right now. But you do.

    “He didn’t know I was a mutant.” You say, voice shaking a little. Although, you can’t help but let out a pitiful laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation. “He thought that the school was just some place for rich kids. I mentioned it offhand because I assumed he knew- and he didn’t. He wouldn’t drive me home so…” You make a vague motion at your soaking clothes. Warren looks angry. Angrier than you’ve ever seen him before. He opens his mouth to say something and decides better of it. Instead, He wraps an arm around you and begins to guide you back to the mansion. You blush a little at the action, but realize he probably just has to stay close to keep the both of you under the umbrella- not that his wings even fit, by the way.

    “You’re gonna be soaked.” You say, pointing towards his wings. Warren glances back, flexing the limbs just slightly, and shrugs. 

    “I’ll get over it. Wouldn’t be much of a hero if I let a pretty girl walk in the rain, would I?” Warren flirts, sending you a wink. You send him an incredulous look, before bursting out in laughter. Warren gasps, putting a hand over his “wounded” heart. 

     “Seriously? That was a good one, and you’re just laughing?” Warren complains, which only makes you laugh a bit harder. 

    “Oh please, that one was so cheesy!” You manage to say through the laughs. Warren is smiling, and it’s different than the smile he wears when he’s being an annoying jerk. His hair is wet, and his clothes are damp, but to be honest, you really start to understand why they call him Angel. You look away when you realize you’re blushing, but you can’t seem to wipe the smile off of your face. 

    “That guy was an idiot, by the way,” Warren says after a moment. Your smile falls a bit at the reminder of the start of the evening. “He really has no clue what he’s missing out on.” You snort at that, unable to keep yourself from rolling your eyes.

    “You sure have a lot to say for a guy who doesn’t like me all that much.” The words come out before you can really think about it, and you’re caught off guard when Warren stops walking. He doesn’t remove his arm from around your shoulders, but he moves so that he can look at you better.

    “What do you mean by that?” Warren asks, His face twisted in an expression you can’t quite figure out. The question and the seriousness in his tone surprise you, and you don’t quite know how to respond at first.

    “I- Huh?”

    “You don’t seriously think I dislike you, do you?” Warren asks again, worry bleeding through his tone. You furrow your brow in confusion.

    “What?? Warren, you’re not exactly subtle about it.” You mention, and Warren’s recoil is unexpected.

    “Oh my god, you do.” Warren holds his face in his hands for a quick moment, wondering how he had done so wrong. “Why would I dislike you? I literally spend every waking moment trying to get your attention!” You can’t help but let out a noise of confusion, mind working overtime to get the gears working in your head.

    “By tormenting me, you mean.” You say, and Warren vehemently shakes his head.

    “No! That’s not what I…” He begins, but he trails off. He’s trying to figure out something to say. Some way to let you know about how he feels, and his thoughts, but he just can't seem to find the words.

    “Okay then, Prove it.” You eventually say, crossing your arms defensively underneath his coat. Warren frowns at you.

    “What?” He asks.

    “Prove it. Prove that you don’t actually hate me.” You repeat again. You’re not exactly sure what you are expecting him to do or say. To be honest, you half expected him to give up altogether, but you were wrong about a lot of things.

    “I- you seriously want me to show you. Right now.” Warren asks again. You shrug your shoulders in response.

    “Yup.” Warren seems to take a moment for the confirmation to process, and then he smiles just slightly. Like he’s in disbelief about what he’s about to do. Before you know it, warren has dropped the umbrella, cupped your face with both hands, and pulled you into a kiss. 

    You’re wide-eyed for a moment, simply letting him kiss you in your disbelief as the rain pours down on you once again. Your mind still hasn’t quite caught up yet. Warren is kissing you so deeply, so lovingly, that you almost feel like you’re dreaming. He separates from you for a quick moment before kissing you again, this one a little less intense, and finally you find yourself catching up to the situation. You kiss him back, heart thundering in your chest. You can feel Warren physically relax, his wings fluttering just slightly behind him as you fully lean into the kiss, hands latching onto his shirt as you move closer. You feel him sigh into the kiss, and despite the cold rain, all you can feel is warmth. 

    When the two of you finally separate, Warren rests his forehead against yours. His pretty eyes look at you with fondness, and you find yourself wondering how you’d never seen it before. All he really wanted was your attention, didn’t he?

    “...We are so gonna get sick after this.” You mumble, brain still stalling a little bit. Warren lets out a laugh, pulling away to pick up the umbrella again. He pulls you a little closer than before as the two of you finally make it to the front steps.

    “Yeah, Probably.”

[superdorkcat]

Found throughout European folklore, a changeling is a substitute left when a human child has been kidnapped by a supernatural being, commonly a fairy. However, nothing is said of when a child willingly goes to the world of fairies.

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

Timmy Turner is an average kid that no one understands… who lives in Dimmadelphia instead of Dimmsdale. This leaves him without the support network of AJ and Chester but with a teacher and a babysitter just as bad as Crocker and Vicky, as well as parents whose actions aren’t played for laughs like on the show.

Chloe Carmichael (who’s here both because Timmy deserves a sister and because I CAN FIX HER DAMMIT) has the opposite problem. Stuck in the shadow of her absentee activist parents, every ounce of her self-esteem is derived from helping others, which has resulted in her becoming consumed by toxic perfectionism. She’s constantly held up as an ideal child by adults who see her as nothing more than a pawn, alienating her from her peers. She may look like a little miss perfect, but in reality she’s completely alone.

Enter Cosmo and Wanda. Unlike canon, each fairy is assigned a specific godkid regardless of marital status. Meaning that Wanda is assigned as Timmy’s fairy godmother to give him the structure he needs while Cosmo becomes Chloe’s fairy godfather and helps her learn to accept making mistakes. Due to living in the same city and having fairy godparents who are a married couple, Timmy and Chloe quickly become friends. And then they find out that, after they grow up, they’ll never see Cosmo and Wanda again and won’t even have the memory to mourn their loss. So they do what any pair of broken, desperate children with the ability to make anything they wish for come true do - they wish that Cosmo and Wanda were their parents.

This wish has the unforeseen effect of making them changelings, children in a transitory state between human and fairy. Of course, the fact that fairy godparents go to miserable kids means that Timmy and Chloe aren’t the only ones that have wished for their fairies to become their parents. There’s also Remy (because of course the kid used to getting everything he wants would jump at ensuring he’ll never lose the only person who ever gave a damn about him), Molly and Dwight (the two kids who got sent to the Wishing Well with Timmy in the show), and maaaaybe a reworked version of Winston (Jorgen’s godkid in the Oh Yeah! era).

Now, the kids are enrolled in Abra Prepdabra’s designated but not always used Changeling Class in order to learn how to control their developing powers while also finding out just what trading the normal world for the magical world entails.

I could go on, but I'm gonna leave it here for now. I'm calling this the "Changeling Effect AU".

[gffa]

Hiiii :D I was just wondering, do you have any good Marvel fic reccomendations? Your massive list of star wars fics is like the no.1 thing I go to when im in a star wars mood, and all of them have been amazing, so thanks so much for that!! I'm just curious if you have any good Marvel fic recs?? If not that's fine lol, thank you for your service 🙏

Hi! Lol, I had to sit with this post for a few days because "Marvel fic" is such a wide range of possibilities, like are we talking the comics or the live action shows? The Avengers movies? The X-Men movies? Which section of those fandoms? Avengers as a team? Captain America? Thor? Iron Man? Daredevil? X-Men: First Class? Just... anything? I don't actually have a lot of comics fic recommendations (mostly because it's too hard to wade through all the movie stuff because so many people cross-tag into the comics tags despite it not being comic fic that those tags are now useless), but my go-to for Marvel comics are always: ✦ Betrayal + Paradox Law + The Game of Empires by Valerie J It's hard to describe this series, other than that about ~15 years ago, it was an ambitious attempt at taking various elements of the X-Men comics and weaving them into a coherent whole, focusing on giving Remy an epic backstory to explain his origins and his powers. It probably wouldn't really fit with more recent comics, but if you're a fan of late '90s/early '00s X-Men comics, this was a hell of a ride with cool powers, surprising family twists, time travel, fun relationships, and incredible ramp ups to tense situations that explode in the best way. ✦ The Gestalt Arc by Lori McDonald Another old school fic centered around the Remy/Rogue relationship and taking them on an epic journey, in an alternate version of what happened after their kiss in X-Men #41. The ups and downs of how they work out their issues, the lives they try to lead with each other, finding their path forward together, it's still one of my favorites for the era. ✦ Anything by Traincat for the Young Avengers My favorite is grab a blanket, brother, but they're an author that I'd write a blanket rec for, if any of the summaries sound relevant to your interests! They also write Peter Parker/Johnny Storm, which isn't my area of comics, but I'd trust them with it! But primarily I'd route you to them for their super fun Young Avengers stories, the Teddy/Billy and Eli/Kate ones especially. ✦ Anything by silverspidertm2, X-parrot, takadainmate, or Mythtaken Identity for Journey into Mystery and Loki: Agent of Asgard-era fic. This is when I was in my prime era of reading Thor comic-centric fic, around Journey into Mystery and Loki: Agent of Asgard, when he was Kid Loki and then Teen Loki. There was a lot really fun worldbuilding or road trips or just feelings explosions fic from this era. Beyond that, my bookmarks are a bit of a mess, but you can scroll through them to see what you're looking for. My primary fandoms were: ✦ Daredevil TV, where I went in hard on Matt/Foggy (and some Matt/Foggy/Karen and Frank/Karen and a little Matt/Elektra), where I read voraciously for about a year before MCU burnout hit. Some faves are Double Blind by smilebackwards and Something Dumb to Do by poisonivory and jump, check parachute augustbird.

✦ Thor (MCU), which is actually the heart of who I was as an MCU fan, I spent a long time there reading a lot of fic and this will take you to my bookmarks with the pairings filtered out. I was a big fan of Thor & Loki's relationship so that's most of what's in there, and I always suggest starting with these three fics: ✦ Bargaining by proantagonist, thor & loki & odin & frigga & cast, time travel, 108.9k Faced with an eternity without his brother, Loki strikes a bargain to change the past. Post TDW. ✦ No Such Liberty by Xparrot, thor & loki & cast, 147.3k The first thing Loki said, after he had swiped his tongue over his lips to wet them, was, "You shouldn't trust me." ~ Following the attack on New York, Thor takes Loki back to Asgard in chains; but this does not mean that the god of mischief's schemes are ended, or that Thor has or ever will give up on his brother. But when Thanos threatens the realm to claim his lost prizes, on which side will Loki fall? [post-Avengers fix it] ✦ The Lullaby Singer by TheOtherOdinson, thor & loki & odin & frigga, 85k wip Odin hasn't left Asgard in over a thousand years. When he finds out Loki is still alive and preparing to launch an attack on Midgard, he could send Thor to stop him. Or Odin could go himself. As a bonus, I have a few more Thor genfic recs here.

✦ Captain America (MCU), where sure I liked some gen fic but lbr I was there for the Stucky. I mostly read during the height of the post-TWS fervor and then tapered off a lot after that (given how hard they swerved away from their relationship) and I haven't read almost anything in the fandom since Endgame, but if you want some fun TWS-era fic, I put together this list recently. (To be fair, I also liked a lot of Steve &/ Natasha, Bucky &/ Natasha and Sam/Natasha, so you can find that in there, too.)

✦ Iron Man (MCU), where I liked a mix of some fun gen pieces and some Tony/Pepper which put me in the minority, but I don't care because there were some banger authors for both. If you're interested in them, I always liked pretty much anything I read by roboticonography. icarus_chained wrote a wider variety of stuff, but I've always liked anything I've read from them as well.

✦ Avengers (MCU), where I read a lot of fic, but it's kind of all mixed in together, even some sprinkled in Black Panther fic, some Spideypool that was super fun for a hot minute, some Guardians of the Galaxy characters showing up, etc. Step carefully if you're not interested in pairings (I read a fair amount of Tony/Loki and Steve/Loki in amongst the other stuff), but honestly by the end I was probably reading more gen than anything.

✦ X-Men: First Class-verse, which is my exception to not reading much for the live action versions of the X-Men, because I am a long time Pietro Maximoff fan and while Peter wasn't my Pietro, I did love him and there was some absolute banger fic for the Dadneto trope, which was where my heart was at. Come Together by blarfkey is absolutely the first place to start!

Hopefully this is what you were looking for, but if you have further refinements on what you're interested in, let me know and I'll try to give some pointers! I've been out of reading Marvel for awhile, but I have a huge backlog from when I was in it, at least. 😂

[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* 🥰