X-Men Preferences and Imagines

You take a bullet meant for them

Logan Howlett:
You're out on a mission with Logan, things are going south fast, and you barely see the sniper until it's too late. Instinctively, you throw yourself in front of Logan just as the bullet is fired. The impact knocks you off your feet, and the pain sears through your chest. Logan's eyes widen as he catches you before you hit the ground, growling out a low, "What the hell did you do that for?" His voice trembles, despite his tough exterior, as he presses his hand against your wound to stem the bleeding. "Logan, you would've been hit," you manage to say through gritted teeth, wincing as the pain surges. His adamantium claws retract as he cradles you, his usually fierce expression softening with concern. "You think I can't take a bullet?!" he snaps, though you can hear the fear in his voice. "I heal, darlin'. You don't." His hands shake, a rare sight, as he picks you up, muttering under his breath, "We're getting you outta here. Don't you dare leave me." Despite his gruffness, there's a desperation in his voice as he runs towards safety. You chuckle softly, though the pain intensifies, "Don't worry, Logan... I'm not going anywhere." He grits his teeth, anger and worry swirling in his eyes as he presses a kiss to your forehead, whispering, "You better not."

Scott Summers:
The battle against the Brotherhood was raging, and Scott was in the thick of it, blasting away with his optic beams. You saw it out of the corner of your eye—a flash of metal from behind a corner, aimed right at Scott. Without thinking, you dive in front of him, taking the bullet that was meant for him. Scott turns just in time to see you fall to the ground, his heart stopping in his chest. "Y/N!" His voice cracks as he kneels beside you, pressing a hand to the wound, his other hand frantically pushing his visor up to stop his beams from firing uncontrollably. "Why would you do that?!" His voice is shaky, torn between frustration and overwhelming fear. You groan softly, blood pooling between your fingers as you clutch your side. "I wasn't going to let you get hit," you rasp out, trying to smile despite the agony. He shakes his head, guilt written all over his face. "I should've seen it coming... I should've protected you!" He glances around, desperate to get you help, his hands trembling. "I can't lose you." His eyes, hidden behind the visor, still reveal the depth of his worry in his tone. "You won't," you whisper, reaching for his hand. "Just... get us out of here, okay?" He nods, gently lifting you into his arms, his movements careful yet swift as he carries you to safety, whispering over and over, "I'm not letting you go. Not now. Not ever."

Young Charles Xavier:
You and Charles are pinned down by enemy fire, the tension in the air palpable. Charles is trying to keep his focus, using his telepathy to locate the enemy, when suddenly a bullet rips through the air, aimed right at him. Without hesitation, you throw yourself in front of him, the bullet tearing through your shoulder. Charles' eyes widen in horror as you collapse, and he immediately kneels beside you, his hands trembling as he touches your wound. "Why did you do that?!" His voice is shaky, filled with a mixture of disbelief and terror. "I... I couldn't let them hurt you," you gasp, clutching your bleeding shoulder. Charles' eyes are wide, his mind racing as he tries to find a solution, but the fear of losing you clouds his usually sharp mind. "You didn't have to... I can protect myself," he says softly, guilt heavy in his voice. "I can't... read bullets, Charles," you joke weakly, trying to lighten the mood despite the pain. His lips press into a thin line, clearly not amused. "I'm getting us out of here," he says with determination, his mind reaching out to call for help. He looks down at you, his fingers brushing your cheek softly. "Stay with me. I'm not losing you." You nod weakly, and Charles' eyes soften, his voice breaking as he whispers, "You're too important to me."

Young Erik Lehnsherr:
In the heat of battle, metal debris flies everywhere as Erik uses his powers to fend off the attackers. But in the chaos, one of the enemy soldiers fires a shot directly at him. Without a second thought, you throw yourself in front of him, taking the bullet. Erik's eyes widen in shock as you hit the ground, blood pouring from your side. "No!" he roars, the metallic objects around you vibrating violently with his rage. He drops to his knees beside you, his hands pressing desperately against your wound. "Why would you do something so stupid?!" His voice is raw, filled with anger, but there's a deep, underlying fear. "Erik... it was instinct," you reply weakly, wincing as the pain intensifies. His jaw clenches, the metal around him shaking as he fights to control his emotions. "You don't take bullets for me," he snaps, though there's no venom in his voice, only fear. "I control metal, I could have stopped it!" You manage a small smile, your hand reaching up to touch his cheek. "Didn't want to risk it." Erik's breath catches in his throat as he leans closer to you, his eyes filled with an emotion he rarely shows—vulnerability. "I can't lose you," he murmurs, his voice barely a whisper. "Not like this." His powers surge as he carefully lifts you with the metal around him, determined to get you to safety, his voice breaking as he promises, "I'm going to save you."

Young Hank McCoy:
Hank is focused on analyzing the situation, trying to find a way to disable the enemy's weapon systems when suddenly, you spot a sniper on the roof aiming straight at him. Without a second thought, you shove him aside, taking the bullet yourself. Hank's eyes widen in horror as you collapse beside him. "Y/N!" he cries out, immediately dropping to his knees to check the wound. "Why... why did you do that?" His voice is thick with panic, his usually calm demeanor shattered. "You're too important to the mission," you manage to choke out, trying to smile despite the pain. "The team needs you." Hank shakes his head, his hands trembling as he applies pressure to the wound. "No, I need you," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. His brilliant mind races, searching for a solution, but he's paralyzed by fear. "You can't—don't leave me," he pleads, his blue fur bristling as his emotions take over. "I'm... I'm not going anywhere," you say weakly, though your vision starts to blur. Hank presses a kiss to your forehead, his voice breaking as he whispers, "I won't let you go. I promise."

Peter Maximoff:
The battle was chaotic, but everything felt like it was happening in slow motion for Peter. You were fighting beside him when you noticed a gun aimed at his back. Before Peter could even react, you flung yourself in front of him, the bullet hitting you instead. Peter's world snaps into focus as he catches you before you hit the ground. "Whoa, whoa, hey!" His voice is frantic, his usual cocky demeanor gone. "What were you thinking?!" He cradles you gently, his eyes wide with panic as he presses his hand against your wound. "I couldn't let you get shot," you say with a weak smile, trying to ease his worry. Peter's lips press into a thin line as he glances around, everything still in slow motion for him, but now all he can focus on is you. "I'm fast, okay? I could've dodged it!" he protests, his voice cracking as he looks down at you. "I'm not losing you," he mutters, more to himself than to you. "Not now, not ever." You try to reach up and touch his cheek, but your strength is fading. "I'll be fine, Peter," you whisper, though the pain is intense. Peter shakes his head, lifting you into his arms effortlessly. "No way," he says, speeding off to get you help. "You're gonna be fine, because I'm not letting anything happen to you."