#pheonix x you

[potential-fool]

I am a simp for Phoenix how about the reader just cuddling him while he was like mid conversation and they fall asleep on him

Warm Voice | Phoenix x Reader

Tags: fluff, established relationship, cuddles, calling Phoenix by his name

WE ARE BACK IN BUISNESS MY FRIENDS - thought I'd start with something fluffy as a treat for y'all <3

holy boy where do I start (the fic is below if you dgaf about my life update lol) Pretty much I completely and I mean completely forgot about tumblr,, life happened and 2025 has already been uh... something! But i'm back now and I hope you all enjoy!! (PS,, I take Arcane requests too ~xoxo Micha)

You had always been a touchy person, in the sense that, well, your love language has always been physical touch. Maybe that's why you and Phoenix had always got along so well, it was always something, if you weren't within arms reach of each other it was only a matter of time until you two were practically trying to mold into each others bodies. It was really quite something, whenever you two sat down it's like your bodies were made for each other, fitting together like puzzle pieces.

It was a lazy Saturday morning at HQ and you and Phoenix had found each others embrace. Phoenix of course was spread across the length of the couch and well he was practically begging for some company. "Sit with me babyyyy" He'd said, it had sounded almost like a whine, it made you giggle and how could you say no?

So here you are now, your head lying on his chest, the gentle rhythms of his heart rate being oh so calming. You had never known such peace before, all your troubles melted by Jamie and his unwavering and unconditional love for you.

"...--That mission was bonkers remember?! It's always soooo cold in the Icebox, I couldn't believe it when--...." You caught bits and pieces of the conversation but really you didn't know what Jamie could be talking about. Something about an Icebox mission the two of you had ran together with Yoru. It was a fond memory, even if it ended with a run in with your counterparts. This however, was the furthest thing from your mind.

Jamie was absolutely engrossed in his own story telling, petting your hair and keeping a warm hand on your waist to hold you close. He just barley noticed when you stopped responding with small reactions like "mhhm" or "that's nice" He smiles fondly down at your sleeping figure, bringing you closer to him as he continued to quietly play with your hair.

Words would never be enough for Jamie, they would always fail him when it comes to you, your laughter, the sound of your voice, that mischievous glint in your eyes whenever you came up with a silly prank. Jamie loved every bit of you, and seeing you here, trusting that he would hold you close. Well, there's not a fire in the world that could melt his heart the way you do.

[sh4nksslvt]

Stuck on You

Some prankster superglues Marco’s hand to yours. You both pretend to hate it… but secretly enjoy staying glued together.

Marco x gn! reader | ONE SHOT

Tags: fluff, flirting, chaos, sfw

a/n: this js me trying to write ffs, this is experimental and for fun only so expect this ff cringe and oc

word count: 3.3k

MINORS DNI!!

masterlist | ko-fi

: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊

It all started with a prank.

A very bad prank.

One minute you were standing on deck, minding your own business, chatting with Marco about nothing in particular — and the next minute, someone (you had your suspicions) superglued your hand to his.

Literally.

Palm-to-palm.

Fingers intertwined.

"You have got to be kidding me-yoi," Marco muttered, staring down at your very stuck hands with the emotional range of a man who had survived actual wars but could not survive this level of annoyance.

You tugged.

Marco tugged.

Your hands stayed locked together like some sort of romantic death grip.

"…Well," you said, very eloquently.

"Well," Marco echoed, voice utterly dry.

From somewhere behind a barrel, muffled snickering erupted. You both turned in time to see a few crewmates (Ace, you would bet your next paycheck) sprinting away at full speed, laughing their asses off.

Marco sighed heavily. "Should've seen that coming, yoi."

You blinked up at him, wide-eyed. "You think they superglued us together… on purpose?"

Marco gave you a long look, deadpan as hell. "…No-yoi. It was a coincidence that someone left industrial-strength glue exactly where we were standing."

You snorted, trying to suppress a laugh. "Fair enough, Mr. Smartass."

He smirked, tugging lightly at your conjoined hands again. No dice. You were fused like some godawful romantic statue.

"Guess we’re stuck-yoi."

You both stared at your hands, at each other, at your hands again.

Slowly, you realized the entire deck was staring.

Crewmates leaned against rails, poked their heads out of doors, peered from crow’s nests. Watching. Waiting.

You could almost hear the bets forming.

You hissed under your breath, "Don't make a scene. Act natural."

Marco smiled, the slow lazy kind that made your heart do stupid cartwheels.

"You think we’re good at ‘natural' -yoi?"

You elbowed him (gently, because, you know, superglue). "Walk. Casual. Now."

He obligingly started walking, swinging your joined hands obnoxiously like you were newlyweds on a stroll. You tripped trying to keep up with his stupid long strides, and Marco had the audacity to chuckle under his breath.

"Oh, you're enjoying this," you accused, half-laughing, half-glaring.

Marco tilted his head innocently. "Why wouldn’t I enjoy being glued to such charming company-yoi?"

You blinked.

Heat flared up your neck.

Was that… flirting?! From Marco?!

You decided to play it cool. "Obviously, I'm the lucky one. Being stuck with the infamous cool guy of the crew."

He arched an eyebrow. "Cool guy?"

You nodded sagely. "Yeah. All mysterious and strong and… broody. You know. Classic heartthrob material."

Marco actually laughed, full-throated and amused.

"You've been spending too much time with Ace, yoi," he said, but his thumb was rubbing slow circles into your knuckles — absent-minded, soft — and he made no move to pull away.

You pretended not to notice.

The ship doctor declared the situation "temporarily incurable" unless you wanted to rip off some skin.

You did not want that.

So you and Marco were officially handcuffed together for the next few hours, possibly longer.

The announcement spread through the ship like wildfire. Everywhere you went, people tried to hide their snickering — and failed spectacularly.

At lunch, you had to sit next to Marco. (Technically, on Marco, because the bench was too narrow and you kept bumping into him.)

Passing plates was a disaster.

You dropped a spoon into Marco’s lap at one point, and he just gave you a look so dry it could set fires.

You grinned sweetly. "Oops."

"You’re doing this on purpose."

"Maybe," you sang, swinging your legs.

Marco grunted — but the corner of his mouth twitched upward.

After lunch, things got worse.

You tried to help Marco with paperwork.

Emphasis on tried.

"Hold still, yoi," he muttered, trying to shuffle through documents with one hand while your hand clumsily trailed after his.

"This is your fault," you whispered dramatically.

"You touched me first."

"You glued yourself to me!"

"You leaned into the glue puddle-yoi."

"You—!" you sputtered.

The tension snapped — you both cracked up, laughing so hard the pen rolled off the desk.

Sometime around sunset, you found yourself sitting on the figurehead of the ship, watching the ocean shimmer gold. Marco sat next to you, your hands still hopelessly, ridiculously intertwined.

The atmosphere shifted — soft, quieter.

A breeze tugged at your hair.

Marco turned his head lazily, regarding you out of the corner of his eye.

"You know," he said casually, "if you wanted to hold my hand… you could’ve just asked-yoi"

You almost fell off the ship.

"I did not plan this!" you yelped, cheeks burning hotter than a volcano.

Marco chuckled — that low, warm sound you could feel in your ribs.

"I know," he said, a little softer. "But still."

You glanced down at your hands — how perfectly they fit together, the way his thumb lazily traced circles over your skin without even thinking.

"…It’s not so bad," you admitted, voice small.

Marco smiled.

Not the lazy, cocky smirk he gave everyone else — a real, soft smile that made your heart flutter traitorously.

"Nah-yoi," he agreed, squeezing your hand. "Not bad at all."

When the glue finally wore off (courtesy of some miracle solvent the ship doctor whipped up late at night), you both sat there for a second.

Free.

Hands separated.

No excuse anymore.

Marco looked at you.

You looked at Marco.

Long pause.

"…We’re allowed to hold hands without glue, you know," you blurted, immediately wanting to jump overboard from sheer embarrassment.

Marco laughed — really laughed — and before you could hide your face, he caught your hand again, lacing your fingers together easy as breathing.

"No more excuses-yoi," he said, lips brushing your temple in a featherlight kiss.

You clung tighter.

Maybe being stuck together wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

[hjpsdiary]

written in red (ootp) - harry james potter x fem!reader

you and harry had only been dating for a few weeks, and everything still felt new and unsteady. being friends first made it easier in some ways, but the shift into something more left room for awkward moments neither of you quite knew how to handle.

like this one.

harry had come into the gryffindor common room late, his footsteps quiet but deliberate. he stopped short when he saw you sitting at one of the tables, your head bent over your work, your free hand tucked under the table.

“hey,” he said softly, stepping closer.

you glanced up, startled, before quickly moving your hand to your lap. “harry. what are you doing up?”

“couldn’t sleep,” he said, slipping into the chair across from you. “what about you?”

“just… catching up on work,” you said, your voice quieter than usual.

harry’s brows furrowed as he leaned forward. “you okay? you look—” he hesitated, his gaze flicking to your hand. “—tense.”

“i’m fine,” you said quickly, but your eyes darted away from his, and you tucked your hand further into your lap.

harry’s frown deepened. “y/n… what’s wrong?”

“nothing,” you said, your voice rising slightly in defensiveness.

he tilted his head, his green eyes soft but insistent. “can i see your hand?”

your stomach twisted as you shook your head. “it’s nothing, harry.”

he reached out, his fingers brushing yours lightly. “please?”

his voice was so gentle, so full of worry, that you hesitated before slowly placing your hand on the table.

his eyes immediately landed on the angry red words carved into your skin: i must not be late. his face darkened.

“she made you use that quill,” he said, his voice quiet but filled with anger.

“it’s not a big deal,” you said, trying to pull your hand back, but he held on gently, his thumb brushing over the scar.

“not a big deal?” he repeated, his voice rising slightly. “y/n, she made you carve this into your hand. how is that not a big deal?”

“she does it to everyone,” you said, avoiding his gaze. “it’s just how she is.”

harry shook his head, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. “that doesn’t make it okay.”

“harry, it’s fine,” you said, glancing up at him. “really. it doesn’t even hurt that much.”

he didn’t say anything for a moment, his thumb tracing over the words like he was trying to erase them.

“you shouldn’t have to deal with this,” he said softly, his eyes meeting yours. “you shouldn’t have to hide it.”

your cheeks warmed at the intensity of his gaze. “i didn’t want to make it a big thing,” you admitted.

“it is a big thing,” he said firmly. “you can tell me these things, y/n. that’s… part of this, isn’t it?”

you blinked, surprised by his words. “yeah,” you said softly. “it is.”

he nodded, his expression softening as he squeezed your hand gently. “next time, just tell me. okay?”

“okay,” you said, a small smile tugging at your lips.

he didn’t let go of your hand, and neither of you moved for a moment, the silence stretching out between you. it wasn’t awkward, though—it was warm, comforting.

“does it still hurt?” he asked after a while, his voice quiet.

“a little,” you admitted, glancing at your hand.

he frowned, his thumb brushing over the scar again. “i wish i could do something about it.”

“you are,” you said, your smile growing. “just… being here helps.”

his cheeks turned a bit pink, but he smiled back. “good.”

and as he continued to hold your hand, his touch gentle and reassuring, you realized that maybe this whole “dating harry potter” thing wouldn’t be so awkward after all.

[radiance1]

A large, black flower bud rose from the ground, slowly opening up to reveal a young woman who slowly stepped down. The edges of her long, black gown seeming to slither across the grass as she moved forward and placed a hand upon a sleeping dragon's snout, rousing it from its slumber.

Toxic green eyes opened slowly, staring at the woman before its pupils slowly dilated. Letting out a slight purr it rubbed against the woman's hand, who only let out a smile as she loving rubbed the dragon's snout.

"There're intruders within our forest." She whispered, pressing her forehead against the dragon's face, eyes downcast. "They have someone with them, who can control plants as well. At my level or, perhaps, even higher."

The woman sighed and the dragon rubbed its snout against her, causing her to let out a small chuckle. "I know, I know. Not my fault." She murmured, staring at its glowing white scales that emitted a soft light even in the sunlight. "Just, please. Do not try to take them on yourself."

A soft growl interrupted her, and the woman huffed. "Yes, yes. I know you're strong. But we can't risk losing you." She paused for a moment, staring into the dragon's eyes with a half-lidded gaze before adding on quietly. "You already know what happened to Vlad."

The dragon grew quiet, contemplating.

Not for the first time, Sam noted how lucky Vlad was, to have gained the revival ability of the Pheonix after becoming.

Otherwise...

"We don't need you grabbing their attention again." Her gaze grew steely, staring down and holding the gaze of the mighty beast before her. "It was only a stroke of luck, even with his brilliance, that Vlad managed to come back. You can't revive yourself, so don't take risks you can avoid."

This time it was the dragon's turn to huff, gaze trailing off to stare at a certain scar on its body before turning away. Sam caught his stare, but chose not to say anything as she stepped away.

"Stay here. I'll deal with them." She turned away, sprouting an open flower bud that she soon stepped onto. She turned slightly, staring at the dragon as its eyes slipped shut and quickly slipping back into slumber.

She looked away with a determined expression, petals closing around her as the flower sank into the ground.

They already lost Danny once, they couldn't lose him again.

[the-kein-blog]

Ein knows what he is... a hypocrite.

~✩🍋✩

[star-lights-up]

I'm having thoughts again (it's a very dangerous thing, thinking is): Cherik matilda au, with Jean as matilda. Honestly, it'd probably be a jean-centric fic, background cherik, because i mean miss honey doesn't have a love interest in the original lol. (Oh, right, Charles = miss honey. Erik also kind of = miss honey. they're sharing the role.)

ALSO i'm basing this on the book and the original movie, not the musical and musical movies. I love all incarnations of matilda but I am too tired to work in the whole premonition story thing.

So Jean is just chilling. She's like two years old and already she can cook and clean and pretty much be self sufficient. Her parents are self-absorbed assholes who don't really pay her any mind, and her brother is a little shit who's older than her and never home anyways.

She goes to the library, and she reads. She expands her horizons. She learns. She develops a yearning to see the world outside of her lonely little life -- she may be self-sufficient, but it doesn't mean she doesn't want any friends.

Now, when she's six, she tells her parents that she really should've started school already, and her dad makes a deal with this terrifying man to send her off to Hellfire Elementary (sounds like a great place for kids, amiright?)

There she meets Ororo, who's funny and nice, and then there's Logan, this older kid who's absolutely TERRIFYING (at least he thinks he is, jean's calling his bs). He warns them about the headmaster -- Shaw. The truly terrifying one.

Shaw in this isn't really the kevin bacon shaw. He's like if shaw lost his fucking marbles and became a really buff lunatic. He throws a girl wearing her hair in pigtails over the fence. It's insane.

Then Jean goes to her class. The first years have two teachers -- Mr. Lehnsherr and Mr. Xavier, who tells them just to call him Charles as long as Shaw's not around.

The classroom is kind of amazing. They've got art by students hanging everywhere and cute little posters and vases of wildflowers, the doors opened to the school grounds and filtering in the last of the warm summer air. To Jean, it feels magical. She's finally at school. She finally feels like she's going to get to be in the world. She chats with Ororo and some kid named Scott before the bell rings.

(Now for teaching duo cherik! I'm thinking for them, this is an established relationship fic. )

They've both been hurt by shaw (more on that later) to the point where they've become more muted versions of their personalities.

Charles is kind, as he always is, but in this he's very soft-spoken and stuff. Even as he smiles warmly at the kids, checking on the girl with the pigtails, Jean notices this deep sadness in his eyes.

And then there's Erik. He's quiet, very matter-of-fact when he does speak up, methodical. He's very gentle with all of the children, though, and Jean sees him tracking Charles with his eyes, as though he's sure something awful will happen to him as soon as he lets him out of his sight. Again, his eyes hold some deep sadness, some hidden pain.

As the lessons begin, they're shocked by Jean. Her reading, her writing. Her incredible math abilities.

( found this cute little line from the original book, and i wanted to adapt it (very erik-core):

"It's not fair," Ororo says, "How can she do it and we can't?"

"Don't worry, Ororo, you'll soon catch up," Mr. Lehnsherr says, lying through his teeth. )

After class is over, Charles wants to talk to Shaw, try and get Jean in a more advanced grade. Erik doesn't want him to go. They go together, and Shaw pretty much yells at them and threatens them until they leave.

They decide to think of another way to go -- they can't have jean just sitting in class, learning how to spell r-a-t when she's read shakespeare already.

Back at home, for another week or so, Jean's life continues much the same as it always does. Her parents: the assholes. Then her father takes her and her brother into work one day, telling his son he needs to learn the family trade. Jean's just there.

He shows them all sorts of illegal things he does to the cars before he sells them -- sawdust in the engine, running the miles backwards until the car seems barely used. It's not legal. Worse, it's not safe.

Jean speaks out and gets yelled at.

So she finds some superglue and glues his stupid hat to his head the next day. And so starts her rebellion.

Charles and Erik decide that perhaps it's best to speak to Jean's parents directly. Cue creepy CGI cherik from the last stand. No, no, I'm kidding. They just show up there, try to talk to the greys, who really aren't having it, and before they leave Erik sneaks a book behind a coat rack, Jean smiling at him from where she's hidden on the stairwell, having listened to the whole thing.

Jean plays another prank on her parents for treating her teachers so bad (blabbermouth parrot in the chimney. Mrs. Grey is convinced they've got a ghost).

Meanwhile, at school, Charles and Mr. Lehnsherr give her all these workbooks with more difficult math and language and science, apologizing that they can't instruct her directly or get her into a more advanced class but promising to help if she has any questions (she doesn't).

Anyways. Then we get to the interesting part.

It's been a while, and Jean's seen the horrors of Shaw. He made a boy eat a whole cake in front of the school. he throws kids out windows. And there's this terrible thing called the chokey.

Shaw comes into their classroom to teach his monthly class -- Charles and Mr. Lehnsherr quickly hiding all the art and decorations in the room.

Ororo sneaks a newt into shaw's water. Pandemonium breaks out. Shaw starts targeting poor scott, of all people, who's not capable of breaking a rule.

Something in Jean snaps. And the glass tips over, sending the newt right onto shaw and shaw right out of their classroom.

After class, she explains it to Charles and Mr. Lehnsherr. She shows them what she can do. With just a little bit of anger, she can push the glass over.

The two teachers glance at each other (after being quite shocked, of course), then Charles asks if she'd like to have tea, and talk about this more, if her parents wouldn't mind.

Jean knows that they most certainly don't care where she is, and agrees.

Charles and Mr. Lehnsherr bring her to a small cottage, surrounded by wildflowers. The walls are whitewashed. There are two little windows. Charles spreads cheap margarine on the toast. Mr. Lehnsherr pulls two chipped mugs out -- there doesn't appear to be a third. The kitchen is just a shelf, really, with a little portable stove.

Charles asks Jean if she'd be willing to get them some water from the well out back. She has a wonderful time doing so, never having drawn from a well before.

She and Charles have tea and toast, sitting on the crates that are the only furniture in the whole of the tiny cottage. Mr. Lehnsherr sits cross-legged on the floor, leaning against Charles's crate a little and not eating or drinking anything.

Jean, as a small child -- because, yes, no matter how smart and independent she is, she's still a small child -- asks a few questions that might be a little too personal, inquiring about just how poor their salaries are to live like this.

"Why shouldn't you ask?" Charles says, after Jean apologizes. "You were bound to ask in the end. You are much to bright to not have wondered. Perhaps... Perhaps we even wanted you to ask."

Erik nods his head, saying his solemn voice, "You're our first visitor, after all."

Quietly, a little sadly, Charles begins to tell Jean a story. He once lived in a large brick house in town. His mother passed when he was born, and his father was absent until he died, leaving him in the care of an uncle. The uncle brought with him a ward, Erik.

The uncle was an unkind man. He forced them to work around the clock, doing the household chores and the cooking and anything else he could think of, like they were servants and not young children. He would beat them if they disobeyed -- and even when they didn't.

They managed to go to the teacher's college about forty minutes away when they both turned eighteen. They could've gone to university -- but the evil man wouldn't allow it.

"How did you get away?" Jean asks, equally riveted and in deep sympathy for her kind teachers.

They tell a story of being forced to sign away their salaries to the uncle, since apparently they "owed him thousands" for being just barely fed and clothed for ten years. With the little that they got to keep, it seemed they would never get a place of their own...

But Mr. Lehnsherr, on his early morning walks, stumbled into a small, empty cottage. He went to find out who owned it, and the farmer, after insisting he didn't want to live there, agreed to rent it out for ten pence a month.

Charles and Mr. Lehnsherr (who, at a point, sighed and told Jean just to call him Erik since they're not at school) quietly packed their things, informed the evil man that they'd rented a house, and rushed out the door.

While Jean is happy for their triumph, she's aghast of the idea of the evil man still living in Charles's old home. He says that his father's will was apparently destroyed ("no prizes for guessing who," Jean says, and Erik huffs a laugh) and his uncle produced a piece of paper saying the house was to go to him -- Charles is sure it was counterfeit, but there's nothing he can do.

"He still owns my family property a town over, too," Erik says quietly. "Won in much the same fashion." His hands are balled into fists, his face mournful and angry. He doesn't elaborate, and Jean and Charles are smart enough not to push.

Jean asks who the evil man is.

With a glance at his partner, Charles says the name "Shaw."

After the initial shock, the conversation changes, and Jean eventually excuses herself to go home. Charles and Erik apologize for keeping her so late, walking her to the end of the dirt road and back to the sidewalk.

Before they part, Jean asks a few questions: what did Charles's father call him before he passed? Charlie. He hated it. What did charles and Erik's parents call Shaw? Sebastian. His first name. And what did he call their parents? Brian, Charles answers. ...Edie, Erik whispers after a moment of hesitation.

Jean practices her new gift at home. It's not long until she can lift things at whim, pointing at them or staring at them or just thinking of it. She plots. She plans. She practices what's needed for her plots and her plans.

The next time Shaw comes into their classroom, he's startled by the whiteboard chalk floating into the air, beginning to write a message:

Sebastian, give my Charlie back his house. Give him and Erik their wages. Give Erik his land. Then get out of here. If you don't, we will get you. We will get you like you got us. We are watching you, Sebastian.

There is a great commotion as Shaw passes out on the floor in shock. He's carted out of the school. He leaves the brick house within a day. Reportedly, Brian Xavier's will turns up. Charles and Erik move into the great house. Charles is appointed headmaster of the newly christened "Big Friendly School." (Note: this is taken from the source material. I don't think charles would name something after himself in this au tbh). Jean is a welcome visitor anytime.

Then, one day, arriving back from the brick house in the evening, she finds her parents packing up the car. They're moving to spain, they say. Her father has been caught, which they don't say, but is clear.

Jean runs all the way back to Charles and Erik's house. Jean begs them to let her stay -- she doesn't want to leave, and she certainly doesn't want to be trapped with her parents forever in a foreign country.

Charles and Erik come with her back to her house. She takes some adoption papers out, which, funnily enough, she's had since she was tall enough to use the copier at the library! Boss move, Jean.

her parents don't fucking care, so they sign the papers. Charles and Erik are pretty much about to cry. They're parents, now, something they never thought they could be. They hug Jean, something her own parents never did, and don't bother to watch them leave.

Now, they all live in the big brick house together, and it's a house full of reading and laughter and life, all three of them, daughter and her fathers, finding a kind of happiness they never thought they'd be able to have.

and that's it. Why did I spend two hours writing this. 😂

[arthurscarnival]

“ We were never going anywhere. All that we had was the fantasy, and you gave up.”

The joker hyperfixation goes crazy </3 this movie broke me into a million pieces.

[melluvsuu]

g'mon. back again on that aphmau yap again. bro where are aaron lycan likers at??? i swear I barely aaron x reader stories, even if I do its fem reader... like i love u fem writers but no. and still goes the harem!mystreet/mcd/pdh. there should be atleadt of you guys making stories with male and gender neutral readers 🙁🙁.

[jokerislandgirl32]

How Us Arthur Lovers Look At Him:

Just like that….we look at him just like this lady in his daydream and we think exactly what’s in the thought bubble, 😂.

[ieytdconfessions]

been part of the fandom since the first game, and im so sad over the lack of phoenix/handler content. thought maybe just maybe there'd be more as more games came out. it feels like an underrated ship, barely functioning older couple my beloved. i just wish there was more content 😔

.

[dazziesrantzone]

Sleeping together (literally); Phoenix

Uhm.. literal furnace?? Sometimes you wonder if you'd even need a blanket he's heating up so much at night

Nice for you though, you can put your cold feet on him and they'll be warm in no time :)

He does not enjoy this act particularly but he does like you touching him in any way so he'll take what he can get

Definitely a sleep mumbler when he's stressed

You'll be in bed snuggled up close and at first he starts snoring

Just a bit though it's not like there's a lawnmower next to you

If there's anything coming up he'll mumble about it

Not that you'd understand entire sentences but sometimes some words slip out that make you figure out what's on his mind (it's you a lot of the time, but so are big events like missions or even small events like going out to eat with the other agents)

Very cuddly when sleepy

WILL beg you to cuddle with him and when you finally agree because who could say no to cuddles he acts all smug about it as if you were the one planning cuddle dates

"I hope I'll return from my mission on time.. whenever I return you will cuddle with me though, right? Yeah of course you will. .. Right?"

"Of course I will Jamie, whatever you want. Just come back home safe."

Will argue that he'll always come home safely you know his abilities!

You're still worried, missing his frame next to yours in bed but you'll have to trust that he comes back alive, god knows what you'd start at the HQ if he doesn't

[sh4nksslvt]

The Sauna Bet

Marco dares you to last longer in the sauna without losing your towel… but it’s not just the heat getting to you.

marco the phoenix x fem! reader | ONE SHOT tags: fluff, NSFW, tension, sauna sex, established relationship, bet a/n: this js me trying to write ffs, this is experimental and for fun only, so expect this ffs a bit cringe and akward | ++ this is my frst time writing nsfw so bear w me lolol word count: 1.2k

masterlist | ko-fi

The sauna on the Moby Dick wasn’t exactly private, but when you were the lover of Marco the Phoenix, you tended to get privileges.

Especially when he was the one dragging you in there with a mischievous grin and a glint in his ocean-blue eyes.

“I bet you can’t last ten minutes without ditchin’ your towel-yoi,” he teased, his voice low and playful as you both stepped inside, steam curling around his bare chest.

You smirked, clutching your towel tighter around yourself. “I could say the same to you, bird boy.”

Marco laughed, settling on the wooden bench across from you, arms resting lazily over the backrest, towel slung dangerously low on his hips. The glisten of sweat already starting to coat his tanned skin was borderline obscene.

The heat was intense — dense and humid — but it was nothing compared to the way he was looking at you. Like a meal. Like you were the only thing on the menu.

And you weren’t exactly doing a good job hiding your stare either.

The rise and fall of his chest. The subtle flex in his thighs when he adjusted his position. The faint trail of golden-blond hair leading down below the towel that was starting to look very optional.

“How long we been in here?” you asked, feigning boredom even as you shifted in your seat, sweat sliding down your inner thighs.

“Five minutes,” Marco replied, gaze flicking downward. “You already sweatin’ like crazy. You sure you ain’t about to tap out-yoi?”

You stuck your tongue out at him and adjusted your towel more snugly — which only succeeded in giving him a better peek at your cleavage. His eyes darkened, and his grin sharpened.

You narrowed your gaze. “You’re trying to make me drop it.”

“I don’t need to try-yoi,” he said lazily. “You look like you’re two drips of sweat away from giving up.”

“Oh, really?” you challenged, standing up slowly, confidently — even though your legs felt a little weak from the heat and his attention. “Maybe I’ll just walk around and let you suffer.”

You gave him a show, pacing across the small sauna space in slow, deliberate steps. Every swing of your hips, every tug of your towel to ‘adjust’ it, made his jaw tense more.

“Careful,” he warned, eyes fixed like a predator. “You strut like that much longer and I’ll forget we’re playin’ a game.”

You turned toward him, head tilted. “What if that’s the point?”

The look Marco gave you then was pure fire. He stood in one smooth motion, shedding his towel and tossing it aside like it was a minor inconvenience. His cock was already half-hard — thick, flushed, and unmistakably hungry.

You swallowed.

Your eyes flicked up to meet his, and you dropped your towel without a word.

It hit the floor with a quiet thud.

That was all the invitation he needed.

Marco crossed the distance in two strides, grabbing your face in both hands and kissing you hard, breathlessly, like he’d been waiting for permission. His lips were hot, slick with sweat and lust, and the taste of him was already making your head spin.

He pressed you back against the sauna wall, one hand braced beside your head, the other sliding down to your hip, then around to grip your ass and pull you flush against him.

His cock twitched between you, hard and leaking, nudging against your stomach.

You gasped into his mouth when his thigh slipped between yours, and you rocked against it instinctively.

“Fuck,” Marco muttered, breaking the kiss to nip at your jaw, your ear. “You’re already so wet. Sauna got you like this, or was it me-yoi?”

“You,” you whispered, grinding against his thigh. “Always you.”

“Good.”

He kissed you again, then dropped to his knees without warning.

You grabbed for his shoulders in shock, but he was already dragging one of your legs over his shoulder, lifting it so he could bury his face between your thighs.

You cried out, back arching against the heat of the wall.

His tongue licked a slow stripe up your slit before circling your clit with lazy, practiced swirls. He groaned as if tasting something divine, hands gripping your ass as he devoured you like it was the only thing that mattered.

You moaned loudly, fingers tangling in his damp hair. “M-marco—shit—”

He chuckled into your cunt. “Loud in here, huh? Anyone walkin’ by’s gonna know exactly what I’m doin’ to you.”

You whined, bucking your hips forward, and he rewarded you with faster strokes, sucking gently before sliding his tongue lower — dipping inside you until your legs shook.

“Nghh~ I—I’m close—” you warned, breath hitching.

But he pulled away, rising to his feet and catching your mouth again, lips wet with your taste.

“Want you to cum on my cock instead.”

With a groan, he lifted you easily, pressing your back against the warm wooden wall as you wrapped your legs around his waist. He aligned himself with one hand and thrust into you slowly, inch by inch, until he was fully inside.

You both gasped.

“Fuck, you feel perfect,” he muttered into your neck, hips rolling in slow, grinding motions that made your walls flutter.

Your nails scraped down his back as he started to move — deep, steady thrusts that made your breath hitch with every slam of his hips. The sauna air was thick with the scent of sex and sweat, the sound of skin slapping and your shared moans bouncing off the wood.

You clenched around him, and Marco growled, slamming deeper.

“You tryin’ to break me, babe?” he panted, one hand gripping your thigh tighter. “You keep squeezin’ me like that, I’m not gonna last-yoi.”

“T-then fuck me harder,” you begged, eyes locked on his.

That did it.

Marco slammed into you with relentless force, cock dragging against all the right spots, the angle just enough to make stars burst behind your eyes.

You screamed his name as your orgasm hit, body trembling, nails digging into his shoulders.

He fucked you through it, pace erratic now, losing control.

“Where do you want it?” he rasped.

“Inside hmgh~,” you gasped. “Please—fill me up.”

His rhythm faltered, and with a strangled groan, he buried himself deep and came hard, cock pulsing inside you as he gripped your body like you were the only thing anchoring him to reality.

Later…

You slumped in his lap, still joined, both of you panting and sticky with sweat and cum.

“…I think we broke the sauna,” you murmured, eyes barely open.

“Worth it-yoi” Marco mumbled into your shoulder.

“I won the bet,” you added smugly.

He huffed a laugh. “Nah. I won.”

“How?”

He looked up, grinning like the devil. “I got you to drop the towel.”

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

“And you love me for it,” he said, pecking your lips.

“Unfortunately.”

“Come on.” He stood, carrying you with ease. “Let’s go shower before someone walks in and finds out why the whole room smells like sex-yoi”

“You started it,” you mumbled, hiding your face in his neck.

Marco’s chuckle was the last sound echoing off the sauna walls.

[x-mensirens]

Madelyn Pryor and Jean Grey in the Astral Plane

[radiance1]

Unintelligible chanting echoed in a warehouse. A perfect summoning circle drawn on the ground with one cultist standing before it with a group more standing behind them.

Even thought the chanting was unintelligible, it was perfect. Not a clipped word or uneven tone out of place as they all, in unison, chanted the words to summon an almighty being from beyond.

Even as interlopers broke in the warehouse, they didn't stop chanting, only the cultists who weren't chanting and were previously standing around the room, broke away in an attempt to stall.

The circle glowed a toxic, unnatural green before growing dark yet darker. A black, mist like substance spreading from its focal point and out into the bounds of the circle before twisting and twisting as the temperature rose and grew into a sweltering heat that could be felt all throughout the warehouse.

They did not stop chanting.

Even as the last of their guard fell.

They did not stop chanting.

Even as some of the cultists at the back of the group started to engage in combat.

They did not stop chanting.

Until finally, the black mist twisted into a brilliant, unnatural black flame as the heat soared and shaped itself in the giant form of a bird before larger than large wings snapped themselves open.

Black flame slide off of the being's form like water, small flickers of deceptively harmless looking flame trailed down the bounds of the summoning circle as the phoenix lowered itself.

"So we meet again." The being spoke, its very presence demanding attention and respect. Impossibly red eyes focused all of their intent on the cultist and the helm. "What do you want this time? I am quite busy, as I'm sure you should be aware."

"O'h' great one," The cultist fell to their knees, hands spreading up and out reminiscent of a prayer. "The deepest flame, the guardian of the blackest fire, rival of the-"

"Enough of that nonsense." The being snapped, scoffing as it turned its head in disdain. "I did not answer your pitiful call just to hear you praise me. Make your demand, now. I have an appointment to keep."

The cultist seemed to deflate, for but a mere moment, before lowering their hands and clasping them in front of their chest. "O' great one, I have sowed the seeds and cultivated a cult in your name through the ages, we are might in number and consistent in our worship."

"I do not need a recap." The Pheonix said, blandly. Looking utterly disinterested in the cultist's words. "Your demand."

"After all of this, surely you would not mind parting with but a bit of your power?" The cultist asked and finally, the Pheonix seemed to stare with something more than mere disinterest before snapping its head up. "Do not interfere, mere interlopers." It snapped.

The heroes froze as, suddenly, they felt held down in place.

It then disregarded them, staring back down at the cultist before him with some level of interest and clicked its tongue. "Already blessed with immortality yet you wish for more? How..." Its eyes seemed to smile. Amused. As it purred. "Ambitious."

"Please, O' great one. Just a bit. A mere fraction would be enough."

"Oh all alright," The Pheonix said, holding up a wing as it plucked off a feather with its beak. "I suppose you have done enough to be worthy of a bit of my power."

The feather flew down from its beak, encased within a ball of black flame that, as the cultist spread their arms, fused into their chest.

"Do try not to be consumed by it. As I do expect noteworthy things from you."

With that, the Pheonix disappeared in a puff of mist like fire. The circle instantly losing all vibrancy and the sweltering heat snuffing itself out.

And the heroes were free of whatever magic kept them bound in place.

The cultist slowly stood up, back facing them as something bubbled up under the back of their cloak before large, flaming wings burst through the cloth of their cloak. They slowly turned around, and the movement almost looked serene, and faced the heroes.

The cultist slowly spread their hands. "I would have thought the Justice League would have handled this matter themselves, not send their younglings after me." They spoke, calm and measured and holding no feeling whatsoever. Black flame spilled from their hands as they stretched their wings.

"Come. Young heroes. You would be the perfect steppingstone to test my new abilities."

[wishchip106]

Charles Xavier, 1962 - 1993

[two-tonexiptr]

Hivemind fanfiction (IEYTD)

Guess who’s on the hyper-fixation train again, anyway I’ve made my first chapter of a reader/hivemind fic and figured id post it here and on ao3

[EDIT: codes ~❤️🧡~ per blog update may 9th]

Chapter 1: An eventful Bee-ginning Fic starts after the cut!!

You would be lying if you said that you expected nothing to go wrong during your first time on the field as an EOD agent, but you had not anticipated things would go this horribly

Sitting, well more so laying, in the trunk of a Zoraxis car weaponless, handler-less, and with your arms tied really encouraged reflection

There was not much else you could even do other than count specks of dust trapped alongside you, everything that would be in reach of your telekinesis was safely stowed away by your captors.

Your recruitment for the agency and subsequent training was fairly simple: Every agent got a TK implant after their initiation and training, which gave you telekinetic abilities along with the occasional headache

“Zoraxis is a very dangerous organization, always be on guard. Focus on getting out alive first before you focus on gaining intel”, your handler had explained.

They were also new, promoted after they retired from the field. They were sweet but a little clueless, assuring you that your first ever mission would be safe and simple “You’re no agent Phoenix after all!” they had joked.

At the time that remark had annoyed you a little, but now you feel like she hit the nail on the head.

After all, agent Phoenix wasn't currently in Zoraxis custody and you were. Actually, agent Phoenix was nowhere, that’s how great they were as a spy

no one even knew if they were alive or not

a sense of dread settles in your chest, you hope you don't meet the same fate…

But you decide to move on from that spiral of depressing thoughts,

The mission was to scope out an abandoned Zoraxis warehouse to see if there was any intel left behind. You moved out in a U-Haul, disguised as a warehouse worker. This was to ensure that you wouldn't look suspicious when entering and leaving the premises

When you had arrived and parked a small distance away from the site it looked relatively normal: nestled between the other warehouses and storage garages, one wouldn’t think it had housed items from an organization hell-bent on taking over the world.

You opened it and peered in, it wasn’t fully cleared out and had some signs of life from before it was abandoned

There was furniture, old tea bags, file boxes that were not empty, some food and packaged honey biscuits, as well as an odd amount of seemingly healthy flowering plants

“That's odd”, your handler murmured in your ear, “These plants look healthy, someone must have been here recently… I'm not so sure this place is secure agent, be careful”

You decide to start on the filing boxes first, steadily sorting through and putting back anything that wasn’t useful. You didn’t want to leave any trace, especially if someone might return to the warehouse later.

Eventually you cleared out the first file cabinet, but right as you were about to put the files back in their original position you notice a small panel embedded in the back of the box

You push down on it, and the panel slides open to reveal a small space beneath it. Bingo. Reaching your hand in you grasp a small folder and pull it out, showing off your find to your bodycam

“Well, that was easier than expected, good work agent! Go ahead and get out of there when you are ready, and then we can officially say your first mission was a success!”

Satisfied with your findings you do what any great agent would do: snoop around. You nab the box of honey biscuits and take a few, sure you don’t want to leave a trace… but you also deserve a small reward for your success

“Ah, agent I’ve been told that I should inform you that it’s improper to eat during a mission… well having a small snack never hurt anyone”

With your handler’s assent you continue your poking around briefly. Chewing on the biscuits you pry open the file and take a quick peak:

‘H##M#nd tech CO. colony cognitive enhancer TOP SECRET’

eyes scanning down the entire text seems ineligible, beginning with a weird fumble of random letters stacked next to each other

‘(transcribe this) Hello EOA, if you are reading this then your agent is compromised. This is what you get for poking your nose where it doesn’t belong’

The rest of the document continues with more gibberish throughout the rest of it. There goes your chance to snoop

“It seems that it’s coded in some way, don’t worry about it agent, as soon as you get it back to the agency we will be able to transcribe it”

You sigh and decide to instead look at the plants briefly on your way out.

As you look you notice a small bumblebee weighing down one of the tall stocks of a flower. One of its wings seemed to be damaged as every time it tries to fly it makes a loud droning noise but doesn’t lift

You notice it slowly start to slip off the leaf it was purchased on, right as it slips from its place you catch it with your telekinesis

It writhes for a bit, then out of curiously (and knowledge of your glove’s barrier against bites and stings) you hold out your palm for it to land on

The bee takes you up on the offer and plunks into your hand, sitting still for a moment before making itself home between your fingers

“Oh! Why that’s quite the friendly bee, a bumblebee from what I gather…” there’s a pause and faint clicking as they search something on their end

“Judging by its size and temperament, it seems to be male! That’s good for you, agent, as the males can’t sting” your handler remarks

You move away from the plants, trying to not hurt the bee, as you make an attempt to leave

Suddenly another bee lands on your arm, you freeze as you realize there isn’t just one bee but now three bees on you as another descends on your elbow

“My goodness agent, those bees seem to like you… why even are there so many bees in this warehouse” they start pondering

You scoot back as more bees start to dot your sleeves. Honey bees, carpenter bees, bumblebees, even rarer breeds start accumulating on you

The oddest part is that they make no move to bite or sting you, they seem content just clinging to you. Against your better judgment you gently swat at one, but it remains unbothered and simply re-lands after

“Well- erm”, your handler flounders in worry about a bit

“they seem to not be wild? they must have flown in from a nearby farm or something, after all they don’t usually co-operate unless they are trained to right?”

You are relatively sure that that’s not how bees work, but you don’t get to voice this to them as they suddenly startle out a deafening

“WAIT!”

Frantic keyboard typing ensues, which is never a good sign in your books

“Oh no.. Nonono” they mumble before forcing a fake cheer in their voice “Well, agent! You need to get out of there now, pronto, Vámonos! Any other way of saying NOW”

Well now you know something is wrong, more bees start to gather around you as you scoot towards the exit. They start resting on more inconvenient places, your legs and feet, making it impossible to leave without killing some and risking the anger of the rest

“Agent, I don’t know how much time you have, but I fear that these bees aren’t from a farm or even from the wild…

There’s a very high ranking Zoraxis agent by the name of Hivemind… and these appear to be HIS bees… this is NOT very good at all!- you need to get out of there agent!”

They panic and ramble, cutting themselves off repeatedly “I’ll call back up, dont worry about a couple of bee stings, they will be much easier to treat than whatever that maniac has planne-“.

Then… there’s silence in your ears, no noise but your own breathing and faint buzzing of insect wings.

Your handler’s mic is off,

You are alone

Or that’s what you thought, until a slow rolling clap rings out behind you, making you jump

“Well I’ll bee” twinges a slightly southern voice as you turn around. He stops clapping and stares down at you, his eyes glint an unnatural amber, maybe even yellow as he takes in your predicament

He towers over, blocking your exit with a limited 4-foot distance between you. His hair is messy, eyes slanted at you in satisfaction with a low grin on his face

He makes a circular motion with his left hand and clicks his tongue, causing the bees to lift off of you in response and circle behind him.

“I told Zor, ya catch far more flies with honey dan wit vinegar”