kurt wagner x a fem reader who has teleportation powers similar to blink?
Pairing: Kurt Wagner x fem!reader
Warnings: mutual pining, fluff, teasing
Word Count: 584
A/N: Hello love! I wasn't sure exactly what you wanted so I just did this cute little blurb about you showing Kurt more about your powers! I really hope that you enjoy this and that it's what you wanted. Thank you so much for the request and the support! Feedback is always welcome, wanted, and appreciated! Love you all so much!
Summary: You decided to show Kurt some more about your teleportation powers in an effort to spend more time with him.
(gif not mine!)
"It's similar to yours," You smiled at Kurt, "Excepted my teleportation is not my body but rather portals I create."
Kurt watched in astonishment as you created a portal and then closed it. He had asked you to explain further in-depth about your teleportation power, seeing as you two were the only kids at the mansion that possessed teleportation mutations. You smiled as you created another portal and stepped through it, quickly appearing behind Kurt and tapping his shoulder.
"Does it have to be on the ground?" Kurt asked immediately, looking at you with wide eyes.
You shook your head, creating a portal off the ground and leaping through it. You dropped out of another portal that was higher off the ground, and you landed gracefully on your feet. You were enjoying showing off to Kurt, hoping that you were impressing him with your mutation. Not many people asked specifics about your mutation, but Kurt was making you feel incredibly special right about now.
"I can do it as far or as close as I can see. I can make it as small as I want, and the largest thing I've been able to teleport has been a truck length-wise, but Professor's been working with me to expand it."
Kurt smiled, "Could you teleport us?"
You nodded, a blush creeping onto your lips, "Where to?"
"Anywhere!" Kurt said excitedly, rushing to your side.
"Okay. Before I do, the most important thing is to not panic. For a second or two, it'll feel like you're falling but trust me you won't be."
Kurt nodded eagerly, grabbing onto your hand and wrapping his tail around you. Your cheeks flushed at the action, and you squeezed Kurt's hand to reassure him. Quickly you opened a blue portal in front of the two of you. Pulling Kurt ever so slightly, the two of you walked together. As you expected, Kurt's grip tightened on you, and by the time you walked out of your other portal putting the two of your on top of the mansion a second later, Kurt was gripping onto you deathly tight.
You smiled widely, gently placing a hand on the back of his head, "It's fine, Kurt, see? No one fell."
He pulled back from your side slowly. His eyes widened once more at the fact that you'd teleported him so quickly, "That was awesome!"
"Awesome!? Kurt, you can literally teleport you and anyone touching your body!" You gushed, smiling at the boy.
"But you can create portals!"
You both broke into laughter at the same moment. You'd dreaded going to the mansion at first afraid people would try to use you for your mutation like many often did. However, you'd been beyond lucky to fit into Kurt's group of friends. And admittedly, Kurt was your favorite, and that might or might not have been because of a crush you had on him, but regardless, you were happy to be where you were.
"Hey, teleporting couple!" Peter's voice called from below, "Why don't you come down and join us all for some air hockey!?"
You smiled at Kurt and the fact that neither of you had left each other's arms yet, "We'll be down in a sec, Petey!" Glancing back at Kurt, you raised an eyebrow, "So... who's gonna use their teleporting powers now?"
"Definitely you," Kurt smiled, "Imagine Peter's face when we drop in and steal his spot on the couch!"
You laughed softly as you opened a portal, "Great minds think alike."
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Father’s Day 1/2
Jean Grey & Charles Xavier
Father’s Day was always eventful for Charles Xavier. Only the year-round students were at the school in June – the ones who couldn’t go home, or didn’t have homes to return to. For them, the school became home, and everyone there became family.
Charles was the headmaster of the school and, by extension, the head of the family. He was the one who’d welcomed them, who listened to their worries, who understood their fears, who taught them about their powers. After this many years, he’d grown accustomed to the scattered thoughts that referred to him as “dad.”
Most of them would never say it out loud, of course. At least, not on any other day but Father’s Day. Charles had seen the full spectrum of gifts and gestures.
The shyer children would slip hand-drawn cards under the door to his study. Many were unsigned, as though he couldn’t hear the anxious, earnest thoughts hovering in the hallway.
And some of the bolder children would bring him gifts personally – craft projects and neckties and office supplies – beaming and wishing him a happy Father’s Day before scampering off again.
Charles kept every token, and he treasured them. It warmed his heart to know that some of his dream had become reality, that he’d created a place where mutants could truly feel that they belong.
It brought a smile to his face just thinking about it, as he sat at his desk on a Saturday afternoon, going over the proposed syllabi for the upcoming school year. Tomorrow would be Father’s Day, and though Charles did his best not to overhear any stray thoughts, he knew that there would be some macaroni art in his future.
There was a rap at the study door.
“You’re still in here?”
Charles looked up to see Jean standing in the doorway.
“We finally have a quiet day,” Charles said. “Of course I’m going to take advantage of it.”
“You’ve been at this since lunch,” said Jean, smiling, “And you’re missing out on some beautiful summer weather. Come for a walk with me.”
Charles glanced at the clock, and then through the window at the sunny skies.
“Is it after three already? Well, I suppose I’m due for a break.”
He set down his papers, following Jean’s lead out into the gardens.
Jean was a grown woman of thirty, but a part of Charles still saw her as the little girl who’d grown up here at his school. He felt that way about many of his long-time students. But – though he’d never play favorites – Jean had a special place in his heart.
As they rounded the corner, a little table set in an alcove came into view. It held a tea set and a few tiny plates of sandwiches and biscuits.
“What’s all this?” Charles laughed, looking up at Jean.
“Tea, of course,” she said. “You said yourself that you could use a break.”
Charles positioned himself at the table as Jean took a seat. He glanced at the selection of food more closely.
“Did you make these yourself?” he asked.
“I had a little help, but yes,” said Jean. “Don’t worry. I used a recipe this time. Not like the cookies I made you when I was eleven.”
“I wasn’t going to say anything, but-”
“They were terrible, weren’t they?” Jean wrinkled her nose, pouring Charles the first cup of tea.
Charles had vivid memories of Jean’s first attempt at baking. The alleged cookies were crumbly and overbaked, and tasted mostly of flour. But Jean was so proud of herself, so he’d eaten three of them and kept a strict handle on this thoughts.
“Yes, but you worked so hard on them,” said Charles.
Jean laughed. “These ones actually taste like shortbread. I promise.”
When he’d met Logan in ’73, and had seen his memories of a possible future, Charles had been given a glimpse of his own failure. Interwoven with the good he might accomplish was a dark fate for Jean Grey.
Pride may be one of his faults, but Charles was determined to keep that future from coming to pass. He resolved not to lie to the girl, while keeping in mind that she was still a child. He wouldn’t control her powers on the belief that he was protecting her. He’d seen the road to hell those good intentions could pave.
But powers as strong as Jean’s were more than any child should have to bear. Charles was honest with her, telling her that he’d put up a wall in her mind to keep her from being overwhelmed by them. And, bit by bit, as she grew and learned, they’d take the wall down together until she could control all of them without fear.
There were times when she’d grown frustrated and angry with him, saying he was holding her back. Other times, she’d been paralyzed with fear that it was all too much and she’d never learn to control it. Charles did his best to guide her through it all.
There were times when he wondered if he should’ve handled things differently. There were times when he was certain that he could’ve done better. He’d encouraged when he should have reassured, and vice versa. In his view of the bigger picture, he could sometimes see the forest, but forget the trees. And Jean, well, she had been a child, with all the struggles that growing up entails.
And yet, in spite of the struggles and disagreements that all families face, they had always owned up to their mistakes, and had always forgiven each other. They had many wonderful times together, too, after all. There were tea parties and games of make believe, excursions to museums and movie theaters. All of these were memories that Charles held dear.
“I have something else for you,” Jean said. “I made it for you a long time ago, actually, but I couldn’t work up the nerve to give it to you. I guess… Well, I want you to have it.”
Jean slid an envelope across the table. Curious, Charles opened it, unfolding the paper it contained. It was a crayon drawing dated 1976, the year after Jean had come to live at the school. The drawing itself was of a colorful array of flowers. At the bottom of it was written:
Dear professor, Happy Father’s Day. I wish you were my real dad. I love you very much. Love, Jean Grey
As he read the earnest childish note, Charles a felt a lump in his throat.
“I know you know that already,” Jean was saying, “I mean, of course you do. But there’s a difference between knowing something telepathically and having it said out loud, so… I wanted to say it out loud, more or less.”
Blinking back the tears welling in his eyes, Charles reached across the table to take Jean’s hand in his.
“Jean, my dear girl, I’ve loved you as if you were my own child,” he said, “And I always will.”
“Happy Father’s Day, Professor.” Jean looked away, sniffling a little and wiping at her eyes. She laughed, a bit shakily. “Must be a lot of pollen out here. Allergies are acting up.”
“Mine as well. What a coincidence.” Charles tucked the old drawing safely into his pocket.
After a moment, Jean looked up, smiling brightly at him. The teapot levitated gently above the table, drifting inquiringly towards his teacup.
“More?” Jean asked.
“Please,” said Charles. “And I’d love a few of those shortbread biscuits, too.”