X-Men Preferences and Imagines

How you wake them up

Logan Howlett:
Waking Logan up is like trying to gently rouse a grizzly bear from hibernation, but you've gotten good at it over time. He's sprawled across the bed, his chest rising and falling steadily, the morning light just barely breaking through the curtains. You sit on the edge of the bed and brush a hand over his stubbled cheek. "Logan, wake up," you whisper, your fingers grazing the scarred skin on his shoulder. He grumbles in response, pulling the blanket over his head. You chuckle softly and lean down, pressing a kiss to the back of his neck. "Come on, big guy. You promised we'd go for a run today, remember?" His low growl vibrates under the blanket, but there's a twitch at the corner of his lips. "That was last night me. This morning me ain't so sure," he mutters. You poke his side playfully, earning a half-hearted swat of his hand. "You've fought off Sentinels and Magneto, but getting out of bed is your biggest battle?" He finally pulls the blanket down, one eye cracked open to look at you. "Yeah, well... maybe I need more motivation." You grin and kiss him again, this time on the lips. He grumbles but sits up, arms pulling you onto his lap. "Alright, alright... you win," he sighs, voice raspy from sleep.

Scott Summers:
You stand beside the bed and brush your fingertips through his dark hair, smiling at how relaxed he looks. "Scott, it's time to wake up," you say softly, leaning down to kiss his forehead. His nose scrunches in the most adorable way before he groans and rolls over onto his back. "Mmm, what time is it?" he mumbles. "Still early, but we've got a mission briefing in an hour," you remind him, running your fingers along his jawline. "Or do you want to be late and deal with Logan?" His lips twitch at that. "You're evil," he mutters, but he's already moving to reach for his visor. "Evil? I'm just helping you avoid Logan's wrath," you tease, pulling the blankets off him. He smirks, tugging you down into the bed beside him. "Maybe I'll risk it today." You laugh as he kisses you, his arms wrapping around your waist. "Five more minutes," he murmurs against your lips, and you happily oblige, knowing you'll both be late to that briefing.

Young Charles Xavier:
Charles sleeps like he's floating on a cloud, completely serene, which makes waking him up a gentle affair. The morning sun streams in through the windows of the mansion, casting a golden glow on his face. You sit next to him, running your fingers through his soft hair. "Charles, darling, time to wake up," you whisper, your voice barely above a breath. He stirs slightly, his face still peaceful as he begins to shift under the covers. "Mmm, what's the rush?" he asks, his voice thick with sleep, one eye peeking open to meet yours. You smile and lean down to kiss his temple. "There's no rush, but I thought you might want to enjoy the morning with me before your day gets crazy," you say softly. He hums in contentment, pulling you down beside him, his arm wrapping around you as he nuzzles into your neck. "Or... we could just stay like this for a little longer," he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin. You laugh, your fingers tracing small circles on his arm. "We could, but I'm pretty sure you've got a meeting with Erik soon." Charles sighs dramatically, lifting his head just enough to kiss you. "You always know how to make a man face reality," he teases, but there's a smile on his lips as he sits up, stretching. "Alright, you win. Let's get up."

Young Erik Lehnsherr:
Waking up Erik is a delicate task because, even asleep, he's alert, his instincts honed by years of survival. You're careful as you slide into bed beside him, the soft sheets rustling under your weight. His arm instinctively reaches out for you, pulling you close without opening his eyes. "Erik," you whisper, gently tracing the scars on his back with your fingers. "It's morning. Time to get up." His grip on you tightens for a moment before he sighs deeply, still not fully awake. "Five more minutes," he mutters, his voice low and rough from sleep. You chuckle softly, resting your head on his shoulder. "I've already given you five more minutes... and another five after that," you tease. Erik finally opens one eye, his steel-blue gaze meeting yours. "You're persistent, you know that?" he says with a smirk, his voice still thick with sleep. "Only with you," you reply, pressing a kiss to his jawline. He sighs again, but this time it's a resigned sigh as he rolls over onto his back, pulling you with him. "Alright, I'm up," he says, though he doesn't make any effort to move. You laugh, knowing that getting him out of bed will take a little more coaxing. "Come on, you promised we'd train today," you remind him. He groans but finally sits up, his arm still wrapped around your waist. "I'm starting to regret that promise," he mutters, but there's a smile on his lips as he pulls you in for another kiss.

Young Hank McCoy:
Hank is always the last to bed and the hardest to wake up, especially after one of his late-night experiments. You find him sprawled on the bed, still wearing his glasses and with a book splayed open on his chest. Gently, you take the book and set it aside, careful not to wake him just yet. "Hank, it's time to wake up," you whisper, brushing a hand through his thick hair. He grunts in response, not moving, so you nudge him lightly. "Come on, you've got a lab meeting in an hour." His eyes slowly flutter open, and he squints up at you, still half-asleep. "Mmm, what time is it?" he mumbles, his voice groggy. "Almost 8," you reply, smiling at how adorably disheveled he looks. "You fell asleep reading again." Hank groans and rubs a hand over his face. "I wasn't... supposed to do that," he mutters, his voice trailing off. You laugh softly and kiss his cheek. "No, but you do it every time. Now get up before you're late." Hank sighs and stretches, his arms pulling you down into a hug as he does. "You're far too cheerful in the morning," he grumbles, but there's a smile on his face as he finally sits up, pushing his glasses onto his face. "I don't know what I'd do without you waking me up."

Peter Maximoff:
Waking Peter up is always a fun challenge because he's a notorious night owl and an absolute disaster in the mornings. He's sprawled out across the bed, blankets kicked off, his silver hair a complete mess. You shake your head and poke his side. "Peter, wake up." He doesn't budge, so you poke him again, a little harder this time. "Come on, you've got, like, twenty minutes to get ready." He groans dramatically and rolls over, burying his face in the pillow. "Ugh, mornings suck," he mumbles into the pillow. You laugh and sit on the edge of the bed, ruffling his hair. "Maybe if you didn't stay up all night watching TV, it wouldn't be so bad." He finally peeks out from under the pillow, one eye squinting at you. "But TV is my life," he whines, reaching for you and pulling you down beside him. You giggle as he wraps his arms around you, burying his face in your neck. "Five more minutes," he mutters. "You always say that," you tease, trying to wriggle free. "And then it's thirty minutes later, and we're late for everything." He huffs, but there's a smile tugging at his lips. "Alright, alright, I'm up," he groans, sitting up and stretching, but not without pulling you in for a quick kiss first.