Warnings: Smut, Peter and Reader jerking off together, cum, innocent Peter, friends who try homo-erotic stuff together, you finger yourself, Peter having sex fantasies about you, taking pictures in your underwear together…
Masterlist: Chrysalis | Male ”Gwen Stacy variant” Reader series
Summary: Peter and his new college roommate ”Y/n Stacy” try jerking off together…
(A/n: Takes place in a little AU I’ve made that you might see more of🤭)
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It had been a couple weeks since Peter started studying at Empire State University and met his new roommate, Y/n Stacy, or as Flash had introduced him ”The beauty prince of Standard High”, whatever that meant. But so far Peter and Y/n got along well together despite the fact that Peter didn’t really like Y/n’s friends.
Peter was confused why someone as nice as Y/n would hang out with guys like Harry Osborn and Flash Thompson of all people. Y/n had said that Harry was nice once you got to know him. But when it came to Flash he insisted he only hung out with him because he’s one of Harry’s friends.
Tonight Peter and Y/n were chilling on Y/n’s bed, with a bowl of popcorn, watching some new season of an animated superhero show Peter was excited to see. Y/n didn’t really understand what was going on since he hadn’t seen it before, but at least Peter was happy.
As they were watching Y/n noticed a sizeable tent that had formed in Peter’s sweatpants. Peter was either to invested in the show and hadn’t noticed or was trying to play it cool. Whatever it was, Y/n decided to tease him a little bit.
”You having fun?” He asked.
”What?” Peter asked turning from the screen.
Y/n gave him a look and a little nod to Peter’s lap, as Peter looked to his lap and noticed his heavily outlined boner. Peter instinctively stood up and faced away from Y/n and said ”Oh my god- Uhm sorry, I-I don’t know why- uhm” Peter mumbled in a panic.
”Peter, it’s fine, I was just joking around. We’re guys, it happens. I didn’t mean to embarrass you” Y/n said making Peter calm down a bit.
”Besides, it’s not like craziest thing ever” Y/n added casually. ”What do you mean?” Peter asked, curious what he meant as he sat back down on Y/n’s bed.
”Me and a couple friends have jerked off together before” Y/n told him.
Y/n could see the shock in Peter’s eyes as they widend, clearly that was uncharted territory for him. ”You- You’ve jerked off with your friends before?” Peter questioned if he’d heard Y/n right.
”Yeah, it’s no big deal” Y/n insisted, putting some popcorn in his mouth as he turned back to the tv to keep watching the show. Peter was surprised, for the short time he’d known Y/n, he had alwayes come of a bit prudish when it came to things like this. Peter was at a loss for words for a moment but then a question popped up in his brain…
”Y-You’ve done it with like Harry?” Peter asked curiously, hearing the hint of jealousy in his own voice.
”Yeah, a couple times” Y/n answered.
Peter went quiet but Y/n could see he was curious. Peter wanted to ask but was too shy to put it in to words. So Y/n did it for him. ”Do you wanna try it?” He asked.
Peter paused for a moment, his mouth gaping open slightly but then let out a shy yet curious ”Sure… Yeah”.
”Do I just…?” Peter asked, unsure how to start.
”Whatever you want” Y/n told him.
Peter brought his hand to his sweatpants and slowly rubbed his hand over his bulge, feeling it’s noticeable outline through the fabric. He even caught Y/n glancing at it for a second.
Y/n threw aside his sweatpants and sweatshirt leaving him only in his briefs and socks. Peter watched as Y/n groped his own bulge.
”So do we just… go to town?” Peter asked.
”Yeah” Y/n answered his hand grazing just under the waistband of his underwear.
”Do we make eye-contact?…” Peter asked. Y/n went quiet for a moment before looking in to Peter’s with eyes a playfully sexy look and said teasingly…
”If you can handle it”.
Peter smiled and nodded.
Y/n was first to put his hand in his underwear and started touching is cock. Peter even managed to catch a glimpse of it as Y/n started rubbing himself.
Peter followed suit, the threw his shirt off and pushed his pants and shoved his hand in to his tighty whities. He felt his hard cock in his hands, he looked back at Y/n who was already going at it.
Peter squeezed his cock and slowly started pumping it up and down. He heard a small breathy moan from Y/n beside him which made his shaft stiffen even more. The two boys the made eye-contact as they were both jerking themselves.
”How are you feeling?” Y/n asked.
”Great” Peter answered surprised at how cocky he was sounding.
As both boys were kneading their cocks in their hands Y/n gave Peter a look and asked ”Are you cool if I finger myself?”. Peter’s eyes widend for a second and his cock twichted in his hand almost making him cum right at that moment, but he reeled his orgasm back in and nodded and said ”Yeah, of course” trying to sound nonchalant.
Y/n changed his position, moving further down on the bed, his back fully to the matress. Perfectly in Peter’s line of vision. He shoved a second hand in to his underwear moving it past his cock, down to his ass. Peter could hear the exact moment Y/n entered himself, giving away another breathy moan.
He watched as Y/n got to work finger fucking himself. Peter started jerking himself even faster his cock wanting it’s release, seeing the full on pornographic things Y/n was doing in front of him.
Y/n Stacy, beloved son of a retired NYPD chief and preppy popular university student, was on his back fingering himself and jerking off infront of his roommate. At the same time moaning like a slut as he fucked his fingers in to his ass.
Peter started to fantasize as he watched Y/n. He imagined pulling Y/n towards himself, being on his knees inbetween Y/n’s spread legs and ripping his briefs open to finally get to see him in his full naked glory.
He imagined shoving his hard cock in to Y/n while he moaned about how big his cock was, then he’d fuck him so full of cum that once he’d pull out, Y/n’s hole would be gaping and pouring with his seed.
Peter soon snapped out of his fantasy as he heard Y/n let out a gasp and watched as Y/n came all over himself, silvery cum smearing his hand and upper body.
Peter roughly jerked his cock as he took in the sight of Y/n stained in his own cum. He felt a shudder through his body and Peter let out a moan as his cock sprayed cum over his hard abs.
After they had both finished, the two were both just breathing quietly in rest. Peter and Y/n then made eye contact once more. Y/n looked him in the eyes as he brought his cum stained hand to his mouth and sucked it clean. He did it so nonchalantly, but to Peter it felt like he was trying to turn him on all over again.
After a bit Y/n stood up saying ”I’m gonna go in to the bathroom and wash up, you want some tissues?”. ”Sure” Peter said and Y/n came back with a box of tissues before going back in the bathroom.
As Peter finished cleaning up the mess on his chest, Y/n came back.
Y/n picked up Peter’s camera from Peter’s desk and said ”Wanna take a picture as a memory”. Usually Peter wasn’t the type to take dirty pictures of himself or even as much as a shirtless picture… but tonight he’d even film a sex tape if Y/n had asked him to.
”Yeah” Peter said giddily and he set up the camera on the table in front of Y/n’s bed. Y/n sat Peter down on the edge of the bed and sat beside him. ”How should we pose?” Y/n asked. Peter thought for a second before he said ”Oh! Like this”.
He threw one arm over Y/n’s shoulder and grabbed the still slightly swollen cock outlined in his underwear with his free hand. Y/n did the same.
And with a flash the night the two roomates had decided to platonically jerk off together was immortalised with a picture.
As Peter put away his camera, Y/n said ”You better not accidentally hand that picture in to J. Jonah Jameson. Cause if my dad saw that in the morning newspaper he’d kill me… well… if the shock isn’t enough to kill him”.
ooookay i promise i'll be regular about this soon but i did end up finding the original pilot script for the thundermans! it seems to be an earlier draft of the unaired pilot, and most of the beats are the same, with phoebe trying to have a sleepover with cherry while also hiding her family's superpowers, but there's a few changes! some of the humor was dialed back from this draft (there's a whole bit where billy and nora kidnap tie up a meter man in oliver's lair), and billy is really excited about being a superhero in this version (i'm guessing it was to contrast to normal-life-wanting phoebe?). the big thing is that for the b-plot, instead of attending oliver's science fair, hank and barb go to what they think is the superhero awards, which actually turn out to be the supervillain awards. you meet a lot of the villains that later appear in the actual show (including "dr. colossus"), and hank and barb have a whole bit about supporting oliver even if they don't agree with him, even helping him get the award he's won. it's actually pretty sweet, and sets up hank and barb as a more supportive towards oliver (wayy less of the "it's just a phase" idea). it still seems like oliver doesn't have powers (or at least, they're never mentioned) and other than that things are pretty much the same as the unaired pilot. but it's really cool to read and see the original character concepts!
Watching the Thundermans pilot was interesting. I'm glad we got Max instead. I had a small alternate universe idea and wanted to get it out of my head.
Say, Oliver was still in the show and actually became a villain.
One day, one of Oliver's inventions creates a rift in time-space and is forced to go back in time, by 30 years. He doesn't know how to get back to the future without telling the hero league, so he keeps it a secret. Just from the pilot episode, people speculated that Oliver might not have powers, but we see he is very intelligent in steading a destruction ray. He doesn't change his ways either, and continues life as a supervillain back in Metroburg to survive-- the hero league doesn't know who he is, something like un-documented supe. Oliver starts to wonder if he even wants to go back to the future.
In some twitst of fate, Oliver becomes Dark Mayhem!
I think Dark Mayhem is smart, but are his powers REALLY his from the beginning, or did he still them from another supe?
Obviously, Dark Mayhem and Thunderman (Hank) fight each other. But the secret is never revealed because... maybe its too late to reveal it? Maybe he still holds a grudge. And when its time for Oliver to be born... he isn't. Like he created his paradox by going back in time, but still manages to be alive in this universe. Instead of Oliver, its Max who is born as Phoebe's twin.
Oliver goes into a madness about it and I think that's the motivation to push Max into joining the villains side.
All Magic (Charles Xavier X Male!Reader) *PLATONIC
Characters: Charles Xavier X Male!Reader
Universe: Marvel, Xmen
Warnings: Mention of death of sibling
NOTE: Only upon about to upload this did I realise that this wasn’t actually a request… I’ve already written it so I’ve decided to post it :/
Request: This isn’t a request but an idea for one I wanted to share. About a reader who has omni magic powers and the reader is kicked out of his family because a superhero killed his brother. R parents say that they rather have a kid who ranaway than one who was killed by powers. So the reader hates their powers so much the R hates themself. Then one day the R gets notice by the Xmen on a mission and gets asked by charles to come the house because he not normal
You despise your very being. Someone could hate themselves, possibly their body or past actions, but the full on hatred of everything about you is rare, and something you have unfortunately acquired, and it all came the day you got your powers.
[ID: three pictures, the first is a photo is of a military dog tag, the second is of Logan Howlett from X2, the third is of someone pouring alcohol into a glass. /.End ID]
Logan Howlett x male reader
Warnings: Snow storm, Canadian weather written by an American southern, hypothermia, probably inaccurate descriptions of hypothermia, bad flirting by someone who nearly froze to death.
Summary: You, a teleporter mutant still getting a hang of your powers, accidentally teleport yourself to several places before making it back to Logan in the Canadian wilderness, one of those places just happened to be the middle of a lake.
Whumptober prompt no. 18: Environmental whump
Notes: This isn't set during a certain movie or between any tbh but it is generally supposed to be a the original X-Men trilogy Logan, instead of First Class quadrilogy Logan. That being said this Logan acts more like he does AFTER the first X-Men movie, so post saving Rogue, as well as having Scott's bike which he steals at the end of X-Men (2000). I'm not deep in the special interest you're deep in the special interest.
Title is a lyric from Don't Try by Gerard Way
Word count: 2091
"Logan... I'm cold," your voice was barely a whisper, cutting out amongst the snowy landscape.
He turned to look at you, his arm heavy on your shoulder as you held your own arms in a desperate attempt to keep hold of some body heat. The sigh he let out was visible in the frozen cold air.
Your powers had gotten erratic as of late; it had been a real pain in your ass. Today you teleported to seven random places before you ran out of energy. First was the Golden Gate Bridge, where you nearly got run over; the middle of a military camp, where you nearly got shot; a random person's house; in the air over a field; Professor Xavier's school; the middle of a lake; then back here in the middle of freezing fucking cold Canada with Logan.
Now you were soaked to the bone, your winter coat and boots waterlogged. Logan had said that going out in nature always helped his mind be more quiet, something you desperately needed at the moment. That plan seemed stupid now in hindsight.
Logan had lost Scott's motorcycle in the chaos of trying to figure out where you were. Unlucky for the both of you, your powers had decided to teleport you to him instead of the motorcycle. Not that you would've left him in this snowstorm even if you had.
The two of you had been trying to find it for hours now, and with your soaked clothes and the snowstorm going on, things weren't looking great.
Despite not being very good at it, he tried his best to comfort you: "It's gonna be okay. We're gonna find my ride, and we'll be out of here. There's a town that's a thirty-minute drive from where I parked; I'll get us there." You couldn't help the half laugh, half breath that escaped you when Logan referred to Scott's motorcycle as his.
Your teeth had long since started chattering; it was the only thing you could hear besides the sound of wind howling and breathing. It was getting harder to keep your eyes open; every part of your body was exhausted, and every step felt like walking through drying concrete. Once you nearly stumbled, it was the breaking point; you couldn't walk like this any longer.
"Can we take a break?" Though he stopped walking, Logan grunted and stared at you with worry.
"If we stop now we might not make it." The worry in his voice was palpable; you could tell he was getting anxious about your health and how you'd make it out of this.
Logan sighed before picking you up bridal style, holding you close to his chest. You laid your head onto him, letting your eyes drift closed for a few minutes.
"Don't close your eyes." Logan's gruff voice slightly started you awake, only bothering to open your eyes a crack.
"bu' 'm s'tired..." Your speech was melding together, creating a barely intelligible sentence you hoped Logan could understand.
"Yeah, well, you can get some sleep once we're in a warm hotel room and not in the middle of a snowstorm, kid." He continued trudging through the snow, seemingly unbothered by your still damp clothes seeping water into his jacket. You groaned loudly, showing your displeasure by throwing your head back. It had Logan huffing a laugh out of his nose; it would be more entertaining if the possibility of you dying wasn't looming over his head.
Finally he caught a glimpse of silver amongst the white snow. Carefully he started sprinting, trying not to jostle you too much on the way over. There was the bike, sitting exactly where he had stopped on the side of the nearly completely snowed-over road. Shit. More snow had fallen since the two of you used the bike.
You blearily noticed this, processing it slowly while Logan tried to figure out a plan. "Mor' snow..."
With a huff he set you on the bike, sitting down in front of you and instructing you to hold on. You barely had the energy to do so, not to mention your hands starting to become numb, but you tried your best anyway. The hunch in his back as he tried to start the motorcycle told you everything. It sputtered and roared, but the engine didn't fully turn on. A few curses fell from Logan's lips as he hit the poor thing. It was too cold; the battery was probably frozen, and the oil was too thick. That meant you were shit out of luck for using the motorcycle to get to the next town over. Which meant the two of you had just spent over an hour trying to find it when you could've been trying to get to the town closest to you.
Logan groaned loudly. "Change of plans. I'm gonna carry you to town." He pulled the keys out of the motorcycle and stuffed them back into his pocket. In his words he left no room for arguing against this, frankly terrible idea, not that you really had the energy to say or do much.
"Mmmmkay." You let your head fall onto his arm as he tried to lift you up again.
"Could you at least try to help me out here?" He grunted, your dead weight causing him to nearly drop you.
"S'rry..." You try to get a hold of your limbs, but everything feels so numb. It hit you then that you couldn't feel past your knees and past your shoulders, and a violent shiver ripped through your body. "Can't feel m'arms n'legs..."
Logan stopped when you said this, staring down at you as some form of horror glanced across his face like he had realized something. In the back of your mind you knew that he knew that this wasn't a good sign. The cold seemed to reach your bones, where you could still feel; your nose was running, but you didn't have the energy to sniffle anymore.
"Everything's gonna be okay, bub; I'm gonna get you out of this storm." At this point Logan's words sounded less like they were for you and more for him, even as he continued the random mumbled sentences. Finally he got you lifted into his arms like you had been before and started trudging down the road again.
Snow was sticking to his boots, being pulled up by every step as the thick layer was being disturbed. With the snow on the ground and the freezing cold wind, each footfall was slow. You both knew this would take a long time, longer than you had, yet Logan kept going.
You think it has been over thirty minutes now of the older man walking, the lack of clear vision making you feel uneasy. Once drowsiness and lack of energy turned into full-on sleepiness, your head lolled back and forth with each movement. The places that had been numb before felt like they were burning, like there was lava underneath your skin boiling you from the inside out.
Logan had tried to give you skin-to-skin contact in an attempt to give you a little more warmth, but it hadn't helped much in the end. Time felt slower than usual; you could hear the other mutant heavily breathing close to your ear.
While your eyes were shut, the man carrying you spotted lights up ahead, thinned out in the haze of the snowy landscape. He hoped and prayed that there was some place open, some place that would let you two in, maybe even a hotel with a vacant room if you were lucky.
"Hurts..." You mumbled out with your croaky voice, eyes still not open.
"We're almost to town. I see lights up ahead; you just gotta stay awake for me. Think you can do that?" He looked down at you, even though you couldn't see it, studying your facial expression. Your entire face was lax; not even your lips pulled into a frown or your eyebrows knit like they had been before.
The only reaction you gave to Logan's words was a barely audible groan; he let out a sigh of relief when you did, more than glad you were still somewhat conscious.
The next moment was a blur of Logan rushing to the one building that had its lights on in this small middle-of-nowhere town. When warmth brushed against your face from the heated building, you sighed. You were still freezing, shivering every so often, and your teeth chattering a little, but whoever had cranked the heat up wherever you were must have been an angel sent from heaven.
Distantly you heard Logan talking to someone as he sat you down on a chair, the sound of his wallet opening, the stranger concerned for your health and saying the closest hospital was an hour's drive away, and Logan saying the two of you had no way of getting there besides on foot. Gently he took you into your arms again with a sigh, starting to speak to you again even though you looked completely out of it, you were sure.
"Got us a room for the night, kid; it'll be warm, and then we can get you to somewhere that'll help you out." You groaned as the cold air hit your face again.
Logan fumbled with the door key while still holding you, only just opening it before he got to full-on rage mode. He laid you down on one of the beds, moving to turn the heating up and lock the door.
"The guy at the front said there's a kettle for coffee and hot chocolate..." He shuffled around the room, finally finding it inside one of the cabinets. Grumbling about how it should've just been on a counter, he filled it up with sink water and turned it on. In the back of your mind you were grossed out by the use of tap water, but you reminded yourself that you nearly froze to death and Logan was making you hot chocolate without even being asked.
After he turned the kettle on, he walked back over to you and started pulling your coat and waterlogged boots off. If it wasn't for the fact that you couldn't feel your legs or arms and your nose was running and you felt frozen to your core, this would be like a domestic dream. You could never imagine the Wolverine shucking off your coat and hanging it up while he made you a warm drink.
"What're you laughing about, kid?" You hadn't even realized you let a few chuckles leave you. Logan didn't sound angry; in fact, this was probably the softest you've ever heard him.
"You trea'ing m'like m'your husband," your words were still mushing together in your mouth, causing the letters to get a bit jumbled. Still, your friend seemed to understand you.
The other mutant stopped for a second, like time had frozen over, similar to your fingers.
As he started moving again, he sighed loudly, hanging your coat up on the rack and turning back around to shimmy off more of your soaked clothes.
"I'm treating you like you nearly died, bub." His voice was echoey in the tile-lined bathroom as he hung up your clothes on the shower curtain rod to hopefully dry.
When the kettle finally clicked, telling that it was done boiling, Logan came out of the bathroom.
"Yknow if y'just wante' me in m' underwear y'could've said, Wolverine." You sat up with the help of the headboard on the bed, left in just your undershirt and boxers. The other mutant grumbled as he stirred the instant hot chocolate into the warm water, handing it to you.
A content silence fell over the hotel room, you pulling the warm covers over your legs. You still felt cold, shivering slightly, but this was leagues better than it was outside.
You hadn't even realized your eyes had closed, only noticing when you opened them from Logan setting his hand on your forehead. "Wha's the prognosis doct'r?"
"You're still really cold. We're gonna see an actual doctor tomorrow to make sure you didn't sustain any health problems from this. Drink your hot chocolate, kid." He sat down next to you on the bed after taking his own coat and shoes off.
Hesitantly, as if expecting a negative reaction from you, he set his arm over your shoulders. Logan was warm, and the bit of body heat you could leech off of him felt like heaven. You sipped your hot chocolate carefully.
sharky the writer you are.. 🙏 could we get another scott x male reader where the reader is a more dominant figure? like kinda playing into the fact scott says he likes people stronger than him and tells emma “you know me, ms. frost. i live to serve.” doesn’t have to be super smutty or anything but sub scott has been on my mind since i saw the cover for the 100th anniversary special where emma pulls a riding crop on him.
Get a room
Summary: After recovering from being held hostage, Scott uses training as an excuse to get under you.
Pairing: Scott Summers x Winged!Male!reader
Wc: 1.6k
Tags: no smut, very sexual though, some medical talk because Scotty is injured, Scott is a loser when it comes to displays of strength
Scott Summers; family man. The kind of guy you can happily bring to meet your family; the type of guy who’d stare your father's gun down with a smile and still shake his hand with a firm grip.
Cyclops; the leader. The kind of guy who commands a room without entering it; the type of guy who’s fought his whole life and will continue to do so.
Scotty; your love. He’s Scott Summers and he’s Cyclops. He’s a man with an incredibly complex upbringing with too many feelings to unravel in one lifetime.
You know him inside and out, boring his soul into yours like a warm hug. So it’s to no one's surprise when you’re put in charge of the extraction team to get him and other mutants out of wherever they’ve been held captive for a week now.
The large metal keys clank to the ground as the door swings open. Breathing a sigh of relief when you see Scott is there, you take a moment to compose yourself and look around the room. It’s just an empty room with a tiny window at the top and Scott in the middle. You frown, seeing that he is tied up in some weird dungeon in the middle of the ocean.
But he’s otherwise unharmed.
He looks up at you, a ghost of a smile resting nicely on his face.
“That pose looks good on you,” You grinned, running your fingers along his arms flexed behind his back, pinning him to sit on his knees.
“Just help me,” He groaned, tugging at the metal cuffs but they didn't budge. Snapping the chain with a tug, you carefully grab his wrists and break the metal connecting them together. He shudders and rubs his wrists; sure they’re going to be sore for a while. “Thank you,” He says as he stands up.
“You can kiss me later, this place is about to blow up— can you open the wall?” He blinks but grabs onto you and blasts the cement wall. It explodes and you cover the two of you with your wing, the thick white feathers blocking the rubble and dust. It oddly sounds like rain hitting an umbrella. When it stops, you shake the wing off and grab him before diving out.
Scott smells the salty sea air as you’re barreling towards the water before you spread your wings and shoot into the sky. He tucks his head in, fearing the air will blow off his shades until you land inside the jet. His feet touch the metal and he unwraps himself from you but still holds onto you for support as you guide him up to the cockpit.
“That’s everyone,” You huff. “Took me a minute to find Scotty.” Rubbing his head, he clears his throat- a silent plea that he needs to look professional right now - and thanks everyone on your temporary team. Not a moment later several explosions can be heard in close succession and then the sound of heavy stones hitting the water.
He settles onto his normal seat on the jet while you check over everyone; providing snack boxes to all of them because you’re sure they were starved in that place.
Once you’re back at the mansion, you drag Scott into the infirmary. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have even entertained the idea but there’s not much he can do to convince you to let him go.
“I’m fine,” He insists while Hank checks his vitals for the third time. It’s been an hour of him sitting there in the uncomfortable hospital gown.
“You have a greenstick fracture on both of your arms,” You correct, flipping through his chart. “Your blood pressure is dangerously low, you’ve lost seventeen pounds in two weeks, and your hips and knees were dislocated— they’re still dislocated.”
“Then heal me, angel,” He grins but winces when the pressure band expands on his arm. You chuckle, shaking your head.
“Charming, but you need your fluids first. Hank will start an IV drip once he’s done with that and then I’ll transfer you up to our room, ‘kay?” He sighs but nods.
“Can I at least help you?” He asks just before you leave. “You still have bits of concrete in your wings.” Thinking about it, you see Hank give a noncommittal shrug.
Sitting on the bed between his legs, Scott helps pick out the rubble from your feathers. His careful fingers preane and pry, dusting and gentle fixing. It doesn’t bother you, your wings and feathers are strong. You hardly feel it when someone touches them. But he still takes such good care of them when you can’t.
After he’s done, Hank cleans up his arm and you watch as he starts the IV drip. He doesn’t need to tell you the instructions for Scott; you’ve done this enough times and gotten through half of your residency to know how to handle an injured Scott.
Scooping him up, he looks away but holds onto your shoulder with this non-IV arm. He’s ever aware you’re carrying him with one arm, the other holding the monitor and drip bags the whole way up from the basement to the second floor.
Oh, how he envies Kurt for having blue fur.
—
When Scott fully heals, which takes longer than he likes because you refuse to heal his hip until he’s put back on the weight from before, he goes back to normal. Almost immediately he begs for a fight; a training exercise— anything. He literally gets on his knees begging because you’d rather spend your afternoon outside than in the stuffy training room. But how can you deny your Scotty? Especially when he’d taken your orders while injured like a champ.
“C’mon Scotty,” You coo, trailing your finger along the length of his jaw, stopping just before your finger left the tip of his chin. “I know you can do it, just a little more.” He grins, his lips wobbling as he struggles against your wings. He grunts, feeling you put more pressure down on him.
“That’s my boy,” You tease, watching him squirm and huff under you. You’re not even touching him, hovering above his stomach with just your wings pinning his chest to the ground. “You can last longer, right?”
“I can,” He nods rapidly, breathless. “I can take it.” His eyes dart from the white feathers to your teasing face and he blows air from his mouth. You lessen the grip, causing a soft whine to escape him, his hands clawing at your pants.
Originally, he wanted to prove that he could escape from under you without his beams. You disagreed, naturally. Because he benches maybe three hundred while you bench four times that, but he was incredibly insistent. A part of you knows he’s getting off to this, though.
“Good boy,” He moans, closing his eyes and biting his bottom lip before he gives up, chest heaving as he relaxes against your grip. Giving up, he rests on his elbows before staring up at you as you scoot up, sitting on his chest. Like putty underneath you, he stares up, resting his head on your leg. You run your fingers through his hair, the sweat from the edge of his hairline makes his hair awfully messy.
“Can you two stop train-fucking already?” Emma scoffs as she walks into the training room with some students. You roll your eyes and lift yourself up, hovering in the air while Scott quickly stands up and gives the students a quick acknowledgment.
“We’re preparing for tomorrow’s lesson,” He tells her but he’s unable to deny the red that’s spread across his face.
“Hopefully it’s less sexually charged.” She teases and you laugh, knocking her with your wing before you drag Scott out. There are other rooms where you practice— actually practice this time. Scouts honor. But Scott just wants to finish up his workout so you join him. He’s on the Stairmaster while you’re using the leg press.
The height advantage he has allows for him to watch you as he tries to beat his record on that horrible machine. He watches as your legs tense under the heavy plates, how you’re not holding onto the bars but rather on your phone. It’s crazy but the lack of acknowledgement of the weight makes his legs wobbly and he holds onto the handles for balance.
“You okay, Scotty?” You ask, hearing the sloppy foot placement and the near slip. “Need a break?” Immediately the idea of beating his record is thrown out the window and he shuts down the machine.
“Mhmm,” He nods and climbs down, making his way over to you. He goes to sit on the floor but you place him over your lap, smiling up at him. Your phone is tossed to the floor, and all of your focus is on him.
“Do your legs hurt?” You ask, feigning being oblivious to the real issue as you work on massaging his calves. “I wasn’t too harsh earlier, was I?”
“No,” He holds your wrists, keeping your hands there. “You weren’t. Yes, they hurt a little.” You hum while you shift a little and watch as his eyes close before he looks down at you.
“What? I have to be in the right position.” You defend yourself as the door to the gym opens. He looks up while you continue your reps, using your wing to wave at whoever walked inside.
“Must you two always be touching each other?” Storm chides as she walks past the two of you. Scott grins, resting his arms on the plate behind your head so he can watch her head over to the treadmills.
“I need a spotter for the leg press, Ro!” You laugh at the poor excuse, looking up from Scott's chest and at his neck where you press a soft kiss. He hums, closing his legs further on your thighs.
summary: Your temper is well known amongst the others but they have a trick up their sleeves that works every single time.
word count: 4.7k
tags: 2 (two) punches, Charles Xavier slander, Boyfs who help each other, established relationships, no mention of Jean/Scott, reader does NOT like Logan for some reason idk
Get a room
Summary: After recovering from being held hostage, Scott uses training as an excuse to get under you.
Wc: 1.6k
Tags: no smut, sexual though, some medical talk because Scotty is injured, Scott is a loser when it comes to displays of strength
Comfort for the empath
Summary: There’s been an incident and Scott knows exactly how to handle it.
Word count: 600+
Tags/warnings: familial/platonic readers not described but is above the age of 9 less than 18, non-descriptive panic attack, this is shorter than I would’ve liked but it’s fineeee
The reader went on a long mission and came back to the mansion and is now exhausted mentally and physically. But the reader still has things to do after the mission, maybe some reports, but Scott sees how exhausted the reader is and argues that he should stay in bed and catch up on rest. The reader is stubborn at first, but after stumbling around for a bit and brain fog, the reader hesitantly agrees to basically be on bed rest. The reader is still grumpy though, with Scott being overly worried and watching his every step.
Burnout
Scott Summers x Male Reader
Summary: Mental and physical exhaustion was something you were used to, unless Scott had something to say about it
CW: Fluff - Stubborn reader - Mutant reader - Reader has telekinesis/telepathy - Established relationship
Words: 2.2k
A/N: Finally a Scott request! My boy deserves so much love that isn't just smut, and by gods anon you did it! Honestly though, I fucking love Scott and I appreciate the request.
Another grueling mission had come to an end, leaving you drained in a way that felt bone-deep. You knew the logic behind the assignment; Charles usually insisted it was you who took point on these long-distance ops. Jean was still grappling with the volatile edges of her own psyche, and Charles was simply getting too old for the physical demands of field work. Your dual mastery over telepathy and telekinesis made you the X-Men’s most versatile asset, but that utility came at a steep price.
It wasn't the first time you had returned feeling like a hollowed-out shell, and it wouldn't be the last. You had a habit of pushing past your limits—a trait that caused Scott endless dismay. He hated seeing you return to the mansion looking absolutely miserable, yet still too stubborn to admit you needed to collapse.
This time was no different. Scott was waiting, his silhouette sharp against the clinical lights of the Blackbird’s hangar. He could see the burnout in the way you carried your shoulders the second you stepped off the ramp. You looked lost, your eyes unfocused and a permanent grimace etched onto your face, as if the very air in the room was too loud for your overstimulated mind.
He met you halfway, his pace hurried but his touch cautious. His hands came up instinctively, resting firmly on your hips to steady you. Through the red lenses of his sunglasses, you could feel the weight of his concern.
“You don’t look so good,” Scott murmured, his voice dropping into that low, private register he reserved only for you.
“I’m fine,” you sighed, the lie feeling heavy on your tongue. You leaned into him, letting your forehead rest against his shoulder for a fleeting second. “Just a headache, Scott. Nothing too bad.”
He didn't buy it for a second. He could feel the heat radiating off your skin, a tell-tale sign that you’d been over-extending your powers. “Your ‘headaches’ usually involve the whole floor vibrating,” he countered gently, sliding an arm around your waist to take your weight. “Let’s get you upstairs before you pass out in front of the recruits.”
You tried to sidestep him, but your boots felt like they were made of lead, catching on the metal grating of the hangar floor. The sudden jolt sent a spike of white-hot pain through your temples, making the world tilt dangerously to the left.
“I told you, Scott, I’ve got it,” you gritted out, though the words felt sluggish in your mouth. You shoved weakly at his chest, trying to put distance between you, but he didn't budge. He was a solid, unmoving weight in the center of your collapsing world. “I’m just... I’m hungry. A shower, a sandwich, and I’ll be back for the debrief in twenty minutes.”
“You aren't going to a debrief; you're barely going to make it to the elevator,” Scott replied. He stepped back just enough to let you try to walk on your own, his arms crossing over his chest. He stood there, one eyebrow quirked above the rim of his sunglasses, watching you with a look of practiced patience.
You took two steps, fueled by pure spite and the stubborn refusal to be the "vulnerable" one. But then, the fog rolled in.
It started as a dull hum at the base of your skull that suddenly flared into a roar of static. The hangar lights didn’t just look bright anymore; they began to bleed into one another, stretching into long, shimmering ribbons of silver. You reached out to steady yourself against a nearby equipment rack, but your hand passed through empty air—your depth perception had simply checked out.
The sounds of the mansion—the distant hum of the sub-basement generators, the muffled footsteps of students three floors up—all came rushing into your mind at once, unfiltered and violent. It wasn't just noise; it was a physical weight. You felt the telekinetic hum in your fingertips begin to buzz uncontrollably, a stray wrench on a nearby table rattling as it responded to your fractured focus.
For a few terrifying seconds, you forgot where you were. You weren't in the hangar; you were back in the mission zone, then in the jet, then nowhere at all. The floor felt like it was liquid. You stumbled, your knees buckling as the "brain fog" turned into a total sensory blackout.
Before your knees could hit the cold metal, Scott was there. He caught you under the arms, pulling you flush against his chest. The smell of his leather jacket and the faint scent of ozone acted like a lightning rod, pulling you back to reality.
“Yeah,” Scott’s voice rumbled against your ear, dry and knowing. “You look real ‘fine’ from down here.”
You blinked, the silver ribbons slowly retreating. You were panting, a cold sweat breaking out across your forehead. “I just... the floor moved.”
“The floor didn’t move, babe. You did,” Scott murmured, his tone softening as he realized the bravado had finally snapped. He didn't let go this time, his grip tightening protectively. “The shower can wait ten minutes. The bed can't.”
Scott didn’t let go, even as you regained a shaky sense of balance. He let out a long, weary sigh. He looked over your shoulder at the workbench behind you, where a handful of heavy-duty wrenches and a blowtorch were still hovering inches off the table, vibrating in sympathy with your frayed nerves.
“You can drop the tools, honey,” he chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your chest. “Unless you’re planning on fixing the Blackbird with your mind while you’re half-conscious.”
You hadn’t even realized you were doing it. The realization hit you like a splash of cold water. With a sharp exhale, you severed the telekinetic tether. The heavy thud-clank of the tools falling back into their slots echoed through the quiet hangar, the sound momentarily bringing you back down to earth. The sudden absence of that mental weight made your head swim again, and you slumped more heavily into his side.
“I wasn't... I didn't mean to,” you muttered, your voice thick with exhaustion.
“I know,” Scott said, already steering you toward the elevator.
As he led you through the winding hallways of the sub-basement toward the living quarters, the "whinging" began in earnest. Now that the adrenaline was gone, you felt every bruise, every mental scrape, and the indignity of being coddled.
“I can walk, Scott, seriously. You’re holding me like I’m made of glass,” you complained, even as your feet dragged pathetically against the carpet. “And I’m starving. If I go to sleep now, I’m going to wake up in two hours and eat the entire contents of the pantry. You’ll have to explain to Logan why his beer and jerky are gone.”
“I’ll buy him more,” Scott countered, his grip on your waist iron-clad. He didn't even look at you, his focus entirely on navigating the turns.
“It’s not efficient,” you persisted, leaning your head back against his shoulder as the elevator doors hissed open. “I need a shower. I smell like jet fuel and sweat. I’m going to ruin the sheets. Scott, are you listening? The sheets are high-thread count, it’s a tragedy.”
“The sheets are washable. Your brain is not,” he replied dryly. He used his free hand to swipe his keycard at the door to your shared suite.
The door slid open, revealing the dim, cool sanctuary of your room. The silence here was a physical relief; Scott had clearly soundproofed the walls specifically to help with your telepathic sensitivity. You let out one last, weak protest as he guided you toward the edge of the bed. “I’m perfectly capable of standing in a stream of hot water for ten minutes...”
“You’re perfectly capable of falling asleep standing up and cracking your head on the tiles,” Scott corrected. He sat you down on the edge of the mattress and immediately knelt to unlace your boots. He looked up at you, the red of his sunglasses softened by the bedside lamp. “Food is coming. I’ll go to the kitchen once you’re under the covers. But right now? Boots off. Mouth shut.”
You opened your mouth to argue, then closed it, the cool air of the room finally winning over your stubbornness. You flopped back onto the pillows with a dramatic groan. “Fine. But I’m being mistreated. This is a kidnapping.”
“Worst kidnapping ever,” Scott muttered, a small, genuine smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he set your boots aside.
By the time the soft hiss of the door announced Scott’s return, you had managed the Herculean task of shedding your suit. It lay in a discarded, crumpled heap by the chair, replaced by the sheer comfort of your boxer briefs and one of Scott’s oversized grey t-shirts. The cotton was soft, washed thin from years of use, and carried the faint, lingering scent of him—sandalwood and a trace of the engine oil he always seemed to pick up in the hangar. It was the first thing all day that didn't feel like a burden on your skin.
Scott entered carrying a tray with the steady precision of a man who had spent his life honing his balance. He set the plate of food—a massive, hastily assembled sandwich and some fruit—on the bedside table, followed by a tall glass of water and a bottle of electrolytes.
"You raid the kitchen?" you asked, your voice barely a croak.
"Let's just say Logan is going to be looking for his expensive ham tomorrow morning," Scott replied with a faint smirk.
He didn't immediately hover. Instead, he moved to his side of the bed, beginning his own nightly ritual. You watched through heavy lids as he stripped down to his boxers and a plain white tee. He moved with a practiced caution, his fingers grazing the temples of his dark-tinted sunglasses to ensure they remained firmly in place. Even in the privacy of their room, the safety of his partner was his first priority; he never took risks with his eyes, not even when he was bone-tired.
The bed groaned pleasantly as he finally climbed in beside you, propping himself up against the headboard. The shift in the mattress rolled you slightly toward him, a movement you didn't fight.
“Smells good,” you whispered, sitting up against the pillows. Your hands felt a little shaky as you reached for the plate, but the fog in your mind was finally starting to thin, replaced by the sharp, primal demand of hunger.
Scott watched you take the first bite, his expression unreadable behind the glasses, though the tension in his jaw had finally begun to melt. He reached out, his hand finding the nape of your neck, his thumb tracing small, soothing circles against your skin. It was a grounding touch, a silent promise that the world outside—with its Sentinels, its politics, and its endless noise—was locked firmly behind the door.
“Slow down,” he cautioned gently, though there was a teased undertone to his voice. “The ham isn't going anywhere. Neither am I.”
You finished the meal in a comfortable silence, the heavy fog that had clouded your brain finally replaced by a sleepy, contented warmth. When the plate was cleared and the lights were dimmed to a soft, amber glow, you finally slid down under the heavy duvet. Scott followed suit, opening his arm in a silent invitation. You didn't hesitate, tucking your head into the crook of his neck and draping an arm across his chest.
For the first time in forty-eight hours, the "noise" stopped. Scott’s mind was always a sanctuary for you—it wasn't the chaotic, buzzing hive of thoughts you encountered in the outside world. His mind felt like the steady hum of a well-tuned engine, or the quiet focus of a laser; it was rhythmic, calm, and utterly safe. You let your telepathy go dormant, tethering your consciousness to his steady heartbeat until you finally drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep.
The next morning, you didn't wake up to a klaxon or a telepathic summons. You woke up to the smell of actual coffee and the soft light of the sun filtering through the curtains.
You stretched, feeling a few satisfying pops in your spine. The crushing weight behind your eyes was gone, replaced by a light, airy clarity. Your telekinesis felt sharp and responsive again—you tested it by reflexively hovering your coffee mug from the nightstand toward your hand, catching it with a grin.
Scott was sitting by the window, already dressed in a casual polo and jeans, looking through a mission report. He looked up as you sat up, his smile visible even if his eyes were hidden.
“There he is,” Scott said, his voice bright. “You look… significantly less like a zombie today.”
“I feel human again,” you admitted, swinging your legs over the side of the bed. You walked over to him, and this time, there was no stumbling. Your steps were sure, your mind was quiet, and for the first time in a long time, there was nowhere else you needed to be.
You leaned down, wrapping your arms around his shoulders from behind. Scott reached up, squeezing your forearm. The mission was over, the danger had passed, and you were home.
“Thank you,” you whispered into his hair. “For not letting me fall in the hangar.”
“Always,” Scott promised, leaning his head back against you. “But next time? Just listen before you start hallucinating again, okay?”
You laughed, a genuine, light sound that filled the room. “Deal.”
Ok so I’ve been trying to flush out the Hero League and how it functions specifically when merging Mighty Med, Thundermans, Henry Dangerverse, and VoVV. So welcome to my ramble. Hope you enjoy.
The main problem I've found is that most irl examples of superhuman leagues are far more team based or incredibly localized. The only ones that even remotely work as a foundation are certain versions of the Justice League(DC), Legion of Superheroes(DC), Avengers(Marvel), Hero Association(One Punch Man), My Hero Academia, The Incredibles, and The Heroics(We can be Heroes). Unfortunately with most of these we don’t actually get to see the inner workings all we see is the aftermath of decisions made.
Out of the sitcoms the Thundermans gives us the best look at what their Hero League does. Now going off of what we see we can assume that Super President Kickbutt is incharge of the USA branch of the Hero League. We rarely if ever see or hear of any of the characters interacting with the world outside of America, which granted, mostly is due to these being American based shows. But for the sake of world building I believe this is because issues outside of USA is outside their specific jurisdiction. This makes more sense when we look at Link who was transferred suddenly to Hong Kong. He was transferred to a different branch of the hero league and stationed there. With Link, him having a known villain(retired or not) was probably grounds for him to be emancipated and transferred as far as possible from the negative influence.
This also makes sense when we look at how powered entities outside of the Hero League operate. In MM we are shown that while Alien heroes are treated similarly to other heroes due to not being from earth they are able to operate with in their own jurisdiction. Some choose to work with in the League but when off of earth those regulations no longer apply as the are outside jurisdiction. Similarly with the LR's, who operate as their own entity in between Supers and humanity, we see them bounce around the globe like special forces soldiers solving issues wherever they are told to.
For the MM kids outside of Alan, who is well Alan, they don’t really have an example of a proper Hero League teen super. Skylar is an Alien, Spark was insane, and Experion was evil and also an Alien. Meaning Alan was their only example of what a kid growing up in hero society looked like and Alan wasn’t even on the track to be a hero. If anything he was more on track to be a nurse/Dr like his uncle and even then he never seemed to enjoy it. So the EF having minimal understanding of Super society outside of the hospital and Aliens makes perfect sense. Even Kaz and Oliver, who are well versed in comics, probably don’t know much about the behind the scenes of super life. The comics showing hero and villain lives through fights makes sense but them doxing all of hero society doesn’t. So they are in the dark for the most part and that probably causes a lot of conflicts.
Now in my verse, prior to reveal, all superheroes shown registered to the league(with capes) are either 18 years of age(or their branches version of legal age), a different species, or emancipated. When it comes to the Thundermans siblings it makes sense that they and other super hero family kids are able to get their capes early. After all they have family already registered and have grown up in the super environment. This also makes sense on why the capes in 'Cape Fear' seem to be able to be taken away after minor infractions, they are probationary capes for supers that are on the path to be heroes. In contrast the HD and DF kids got their powers in their teens and only really had Captain Man as exposure to the hero world. Especially with Henry we see him moving away from the traditional hero image and never truly form a relationship with the hero league. Whereas with the DF kids we see them have a slight relationship mostly due to publicity but with Cap Man being more on the outskirts of hero society and Henry staying away from the hero league they never seem to fully immerse in hero society.
This does however mean that the Dangerverse kids can act as a middle ground between the factions. The Thundermans siblings are (mostly) full force heroes, The VoVV kids are (majoridly) villains, and the EF crew have limited knowledge on whats going on. It’s a recipe for disaster and hilarity.
Thanks for reading my little ramble. I just needed to get the words out of my brain. If you haven't read my other World Building posts you might be a bit confused so please go check those out.
plot: Rogue and Gambit are ready to get married but you are not.
Warnings: Yall thought you were gonna get a happy fic for christmas?no happy ending just angst, its pretty short, implied past smut and cunt gets mentioned once, You get pulled into a false safe haven, But the ending will always be the same.
You were laid in bed, Your face squished against the pillow. You blinked as you stared at the white wall, You had been here for at least an hour, and you hadn't moved to check the clock. You felt nothing, you had no thoughts. You knew you were supposed to be sad or angry, Something was meant to be flowing through your veins.
But you were just zoned out and couldn't pull yourself back in, not that you even tried. You weren't sure if you wanted to be here in this mind, This shitty predicament you found yourself in wasnt something you wanted to process, yet.
You rolled onto your back, This mattress was too big for one person. It was made for three, You sprawled your arms fully out and your fingertips barely hung off the edge. It was cold, The sheets felt heavy, and the quilt was on the floor. This felt wrong, all of it was wrong.
Your mind drifted away again, You closed your eyes as you let your mind wander back to last Sunday. It was supposed to be a good day, No missions, No meetings, It was an off day for all three of you. Those days were rare and it was supposed to be something special, A date between all of y'all, Remy promised that y'all would be drowning in the sweetness. The cards told him so, That's what he always claimed, Those fucking cards. He was wrong, The cards were wrong. (they usually were.)
It started as always, You woke up in your little apartment to the surprise that they were in your kitchen and not back at the x mansion. You would pull out a chair at the table and sit down as they finished cooking. You had quickly learned to not try and help them, They would swat you away and tell you to sit down. It always was uncomfortable to let them work in your kitchen, Your fingers tapped against the table as you tried to forget how you were raised and that you should never let guests do the cooking.
You watched them with love in your eyes; You might as well have got their names stamped on your forehead to reflect the adoration written all over your face.
Rogue was humming some song you'd have never heard and would have probably changed the channel if it came on the radio. She always looked so gorgeous in her tank top and sweatpants, She was opening your cabinets and pulling out plates. Her hair was pulled back with a white ribbon that had a nice bow on top of it.
Remy was bent over -- which was a lovely sight -- he was wearing one of his band t-shirts that he chopped into a crop top, Which gave you a mouth-watering view of his happy trail. You couldn't see that sight at this exact moment, But you were still getting a good view, His ass wasnt that bad either.
He brought out a muffin tray from the oven, Your brows raised when you saw that he had filled all twelve holes with the batter. There was no way you three could eat a dozen muffins.
"Cher," His southern accent pulled you out of your stare, You watched him stalk towards you. He slipped the oven mitt off his hand and threw it behind him without even glancing at it. "You're droolin'."
He stopped in front of you, You had to pry your eyes away from his happy trail. Which was barely five inches away from your chin, You swallowed and looked up at the ginger. His scarlet eyes met yours and you felt your stomach tighten at the stare, Your thighs subcousianlly squeezed together to apply some pressure to your cunt.
His right hand found its place on your jaw, It was warm from the oven. Your eyes fluttered shut and you nuzzled against his palm, You heard him laugh. "Miss gambit that much?" His thumb prodded against your lips, "Ya just had him last nigh'."
A throat cleared behind Remy, Your eyes fluttered open when the warm feeling left your skin. You wanted that hand to stay on you, you looked around the tall man to see Anna Marie with two plates in her hand, She smiled at you when your eyes met, and you gave one back.
"Not too sore, sugah?" She placed a plate in front of you, She laid the other across from you. "Get the last one won't ya, Remy?" She pulled the seat out and sat down across from you.
Remy scrambled off the get the last plate, he sat beside her across from you.
You glanced between the two before nodding, "I feel fine, Marie." You grabbed the metal fork and stabbed the eggs. You shovelled some into your mouth. You chewed the eggs, Your brows furrowed as you watched the other two not even touch anything. Their hands were clasped together on the table, the bright yellow gloves clashed against the black tablecloth you had.
"What?" You swallowed down the last bit of eggs, You laughed awkwardly to try and lift their spirits, They looked so nervous. "Did you drop rat poison in the eggs?"
No reaction. Not even a little pity chuckle from Remy!
You laid the fork down, You pushed the plate away and put your elbows on the table. You leaned forward on them, "What's wrong?" You asked, You darted between the two, Rogue's eyes dart down to her plate, Remy looked at you with those scarlet eyes and his teeth sucked on his bottom lip. "Come on," You felt stupid. "Spill."
"Sugah," her southern drawl made you want to melt into her arms, "It ain't nothin' bad." She reassured, "It" 's good, but.." She drew off and reached for your arm. Her yellow glove grazed against your flesh, You moved your arm out of her reach. She was making you nervous, "We just need to ask ya somethin'" She sighed and pulled back.
"Then why don't you just come out with it?" You didn't mean to sound so snappy, But the silence and knocking around the bush made you want to run into your room and hide in your closet. But you are an adult and you had to face things that made you uncomfortable.
"It's a big step, mon cher," Remy watched you, His eyes flickered done your body, sadly not in a good way but in a worried way. "Lifechangin', but cher and gambit are ready to do that jump."
You snorted, Your fingers dug into your shoulders, You were hugging yourself now. Your skin crawled as you responded, "You sound like you're about to ask for my hand or something." That was silly though, right? It was just a joke that fell from your lips because the idea of Remy settling down was exactly that.
"Well..."
Your face dropped and your hands fell to lay flat on the table, Your eyes widened. Marriage? That was never in your cards, You had never thought about it. You never wanted it! You were okay with dating, You were okay with being friends with benefits but getting married, no, that felt too permanent for you. Dating was a full job and yes that was meant to be a solid thing, But it was nothing like marriage!
You didn't want people to move in, where were you supposed to run when things were getting too much and you were overwhelmed by people? You couldn't come home, they would be here.
Oh and kids! You knew Remy wanted kids one day and you had never actually answered if you wanted them, You'd just laugh him off. You were in your twenties! Why would you be thinking about offsprings??
"Cher?" fingers grazed you and you jumped backwards in the chair, Your hands found their place in your lap.
"What do you mean?" You whispered, You looked down at the wooden table, "Why would you want that?"
They were both confused, "Why not?" Rogue spoke, "We love each other, right?"
"I-" You looked at her, You swallowed, "I don't feel-"
"You don't love us?" Remy's face was slack, His jaw open and his brows shot up.
"No!" You stood up, "I mean yes- God! I love you, okay, yes to that." You turned your back on them, You didn't want to hurt their feelings, You knew the relationship was trashed. You were going down a different path than them. "I don't feel the need to do all of that."
"All of what?" She whispered, You knew she was getting annoyed, you could tell by her tone that you were on thin ice and you were never that good at ice skating.
Your head dipped, You closed your eyes. You know you should use your words more and you had sworn to yourself that you would get better at having conversations with them but you failed and words were hard, "Marriage is not.." You chase after the words in your head, "I don't see that in my future, I have never felt the need to do that."
"Ever?" Remy's brows were furrowed and his accent was thick like his confusion. "why date den?"
Your skin was crawling, your hands grabbed at that flesh above your elbows. "I love you- both of you, of course." You never knew how to explain this preference of yours, Everyone says marriage is the next step in love. "I don't need a piece of paper to prove that I'm loyal and won't go running off with the lady down the street."
"That's not all it is," Rogue stood up now, She walked around the table, "It's more than just some piece of paper, sugah, It's an act of love."
"For you, sure," You looked over at her, You felt your chest tighten at her face. You really did love her, "But for me, it's just some words said in front of people and then signing some paperwork, It means nothing to me."
You looked away from the woman, "I feel like I can show I'm yours in some other way but.." This was gonna be hard, you felt the tears brim your eyes and your fingers shook against your flesh. "I see and I-" You didn't want to do this, You didn't want to say goodbye but you knew that it was over. You didn't want to keep them away from what they wanted, "Go get married, It's what you want."
"Not without you." She sighed.
"We're going down different roads, Marie," You moved away from the table.
"That's stupid," She scoffed, "We'll just put it off till ya get on the same damn one!"
You put your head in your hands, Your head felt heavy. You wanted to curl into your bed and never get out.
"Cher," Remy cleared his throat, your heart broke at the idea of making him hurt, "Ain't it obvious? He won't ever get on it."
You heard his chair scoot back against the tiles, "He's saying no, Aint ya, mon cher?"
"I-" You hated how he wasn't yelling, You hated how he always shut down instead of letting his emotions go wild as you and Rogue did. "Yes." You whispered.
Summary: The Wolverine was unmatched in the fighting ring, until a new face arrived and turned his life upside down.
Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader
CW/TW: Typical X-Men Warnings, lots of blood mentions, violence/fighting, both fluff and angst, Logan being as whipped as he was for Jean with (Y/N), age gap cause Logan is super fucking old lmao, more so snippets/a concept over a full fledged fic.
divider by cafekitsune!
~~~
Wolverines generally avoid humans in the wild but are known to be particularly aggressive and even dangerous when cornered or provoked, prompting them to put those sharp canines and claws to work. Wolverines are known for their incredible strength and stamina, but mostly for their infamous ferocity.
Despite their reputation as ill-tempered loners, wolverines are known to be social with others and will form lifelong relationships with their mates.
It'd been a cold evening in Laughlin City and most of the bar's patrons had shuffled into the establishment with their faces nearly hidden behind hoods and scarves as they scrambled to get out of the snow and chilling winds.
The occasional gust of wind blowing in whenever the door opened left patrons simultaneously groaning in complaint but the heater emitting warm air kept their grumbling and huffing to a minimum.
The nipping cold had soured many moods, and Logan could see many men itching to forget about the cold with an adrenaline-pumping fight.
He was just eager to make an easy buck.
"Does anyone else dare-"
He braced an arm against one of the cage's support beams and watched with a hint of a smirk as his latest opponent staggered out of the cage, his buddies narrowly catching him before he could plummet onto the hardwood floor and further batter his face.
The locals eyed him with a certain disdain, certain suspicion, but he put up good enough entertainment for them to tolerate him. He sniffed, hardly phased by the punches he'd taken during the fight, and nodded to the referee.
"I'll have a go."
Logan immediately craned his head to eye the voice's owner, foreign and new to Laughlin City. He'd been participating in cage fights long enough to begin memorizing the locals, and the fresh face staring back at him was an utter stranger.
Passing by Laughlin City, Logan assumed, but he lacked the particular smell of gas, car air freshener, and look of exhaustion to be a trucker like most of the patrons taking up seats around them.
He observed him, taking in every inch of his new opponent as he rounded the cage. He seemed young, but then again, so did Logan.
"Name's (Y/N)." He said, staring Logan in the eyes as he shed his jacket and shirt.
Someone nearby took both articles of clothing for him, likely eager to see what he'd do, or how he'd go down. Logan had managed to break two noses and chip a few teeth already, one could only wonder what he'd do next.
"Nice to meet you, Wolverine."
Logan simply grunted and pushed himself off the support beam, rolling his neck and curling his fingers into tight fists. (Y/N) grinned at him, almost arrogantly, but not with the usual cockiness of a man who thought himself the toughest guy in Alberta.
He appeared... too calm for Logan's liking, but once the referee stepped out of the cage and closed the door, he decided to focus on beating his face in instead.
They circled each other first, eyes raking over the other from head to toe in search of a weakness to exploit, of a twitch that'd give away their next move. Logan could hear the muttering of the crowd, the impatient tap of fingers and boots, and the intensity in their stares.
His eyes flickered away briefly, and he immediately cursed his mistake when (Y/N) lunged. Despite a part of him urging him to dodge or block, he remained still, expecting (Y/N)'s knuckles to break upon impact but instead, his fist connected effectively with Logan's jaw and he nearly stumbled onto the floor.
Managing to catch himself as scattered gasps echoed from the crowd, Logan grazed his fingers over his aching jaw and raised his head to look at the man.
Mutant.
No human had ever taken a swing at him without immediately spraining or breaking something, let alone been able to make his head turn with a punch. The corner of his lips twitched up into a smirk and the crowd erupted into cheers, primarily egging (Y/N) on to beat him to a pulp; Logan wanted to see him try.
A professionally trained mutant, Logan deduced when he got to his feet, intriguing. And worrisome. He hardly needed a group of mutants on his ass begging him to join them.
The ache in his jaw faded swiftly, just in time for Logan to take a swing at (Y/N) and see how much he could tank. (Y/N) dodged his quick swings efficiently, taking steps back each time before he caught Logan's forearm and swiftly spun, his back pressing to Logan's chest before Logan was promptly hauled over his body.
He collided with the floor, the cage trembling as if an earthquake had struck, and Logan doubted it'd be able to take the weight of his body a second time without damage.
(Y/N) flashed another little grin down at him but instead of taking advantage of his momentary shock, he took a step back and allowed him to get up.
"We're just gettin' started, bud."
"You ready to give up your title of champion, big guy?" (Y/N) questioned with a hint of a mocking coo, his words rowdying up the same crowd who'd turn on him if they learned of his mutant abilities, although Logan guessed they likely already suspected and merely wanted to see him hurt for a change.
Challenging in his tone but his eyes studied Logan with a degree of curiosity he typically never saw in others.
"Even better."
"Anything goes, right?" (Y/N) wheezed, his palm pressing against Logan's arm, a chill shooting down Logan's spine when it slowly moved on its own and gave him enough space to catch his breath without the pressure on his throat.
Everything afterward felt like a whirlwind of punching, kicking, dodging, and blocking; Logan's favorite sort of dance, and one that'd hopefully end with some cash in his pocket and a well-deserved cigar.
He managed to maneuver (Y/N) around, his arm coiling around his neck to put him in a headlock most wouldn't survive. (Y/N) pressed back against him, forcing them to stumble backward until Logan's back collided with the cage's wall that miraculously managed to stay put without giving out on them both.
Logan released a guttural groan when (Y/N)'s short blunt nails dug into his skin, leaving bright red marks behind with specks of blood that only made him tighten his hold.
"The hell-"
"Giving up yet, big guy?" (Y/N) asked with a tilt of his head, eyes glinting with newfound warning. "We'll be here all night at this rate."
Straightening his knees and tossing his head back into Logan's face, Logan cursed and released him fully to bring a hand to his nose. He covered it, waiting for it to heal without catching the eye of the people around but (Y/N) gave him no time to recover.
He spun on his heel and took another swing at him, bringing his knee up into Logan's stomach when he doubled over and then slamming the bottom of his boot into the side of his face.
His head slammed against a support beam and he groaned, the aches and pains healing rapidly but before he could stand up, he realized his body refused to follow his wishes.
Logan swallowed, a hint of panic surging forward at his inability to move and the mystery surrounding the powers being used against him. Some sort of mental ability, he guessed, but whatever it was he disliked it tenfold.
Logan grinded his teeth in frustration and begrudgingly nodded. "Fine," He grunted and sighed in relief when (Y/N) released whatever hold he had on him, allowing his body to relax and slump.
"How'd you do it?" Logan questioned quietly, chugging back some beer and smacking his lips as it flowed down his throat. (Y/N) fiddled with the zipper of his jacket, sparing him an amused glance and an arched brow. "The whole- the whole body thing. What is it? Some sort of telekinesis?"
While, yes, losing a fight was a bruise to his pride, Logan found himself more intrigued by the fellow mutant, if not more cautious. With the sky darkening outside, Logan retreated from the cage to collect his belongings and ordered some beer while he watched (Y/N) at the other end of the bar.
Once the bartender placed the beer down, he scooped it up in his hand and rounded the bar toward him, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at the men who clapped (Y/N) on the shoulder as if he'd done everyone a service. He waited, though, for everyone to be out of earshot.
"How about you walk me to my motel and I'll tell you all about it?" (Y/N) grinned again, eyes crinkling despite the way they'd been going at each other moments prior, and he turned toward the exit with a beckoning nod.
Reaching into his pocket, Logan jingled the keys to his old, busted RV and watched his grin widen.
"It's not telekinesis." (Y/N) muttered, reaching out and fiddling with the radio dials until he found a decent station. "I.. I controlled your blood. It's not as, uh, clean and pretty as telepathy or telekinesis but it's pretty useful in most cases. I can sense when someone's sick, too, or even help with cuts and infections. I'd make a pretty decent surgeon, honestly." He gave a small chuckle.
Out in the cold night, semi-trucks passed them by on the icy roads beside the snow-tipped bar. (Y/N) tugged his hoodie over his head, keeping it on when he sat in the passenger seat and relished the light heat that filled the RV once Logan turned it on.
Logan glanced at him, eyeing his light attire once more but keeping his questions to himself despite curiosity knawing at him insistently. He kept his eyes on the road, careful to avoid going at a speed that'd have them sliding into the forest around them.
Logan snorted, though some unease settled in the pit of his stomach. "Yeah? How'd you figure out you had it?" Logan glanced at him again and immediately noticed the way his features fell.
"It's not a pretty story." He sighed softly, his head tilting to watch the trees and snow pass them by in a mixed blur. "Let's just say, some of my blood got out of my body and I panicked.. and it started levitating... anyways, enough about me, big guy. What's your thing? It can't just be that super-healing thing, right?"
"My name's Logan." He grunted softly, the typical tension he always carried fading with each delicate caress.
Pursing his lips, Logan clutched the wheel with one hand and curled the other one into a fist. From the corner of his eye, he watched his claws slide out and then swallowed when (Y/N)'s features brightened.
Gentle fingers wrapped around his hand and Logan retracted the claws, an unfamiliar feeling swirling in his stomach as he felt (Y/N) run his fingertips over his skin, tracing his knuckles and then the veins along the back of his hand.
It'd been a while since he last left a gentle touch, and a quiet part in the back of his mind almost considered him unworthy of it.
"Well, Logan," (Y/N) lifted his head with a cheeky smile on his face, his thumb pressing into one of the veins and drawing Logan's eyes toward him. "You mind keeping me company tonight? Or do you have someone you have to get back to?"
The motel was as rundown as Logan expected, dimly lit hallways occasionally plunging into darkness when the light flickered above them, and the curiosity surged forward again, prodding him to question where the mutant had come from or why he'd chosen Laughlin City of all places to stay in.
But (Y/N) gave him no time to dwell further on it, the back of his foot kicking the door shut behind them before his hands grasped the collar of Logan's coat and pulled him in.
There was a dangerous addictiveness and allure to (Y/N), from the way he effortlessly danced the line between sweet and rough: a kiss full of tongues and teeth and nips but smoothed over by gentle fingers massaging the muscle of his biceps when Logan slid his coat off, only for those same fingers to slip through his brown strands and tug.
It triggered something within Logan, a growl emitting from his throat as broad hands grasped at the other's hips and drew a breathless laugh from (Y/N).
His arms tightened around (Y/N), pressing him close to his chest, and captured his lips to swallow another whine. For the first time in who knows how long, he found himself hoping he'd see more of (Y/N) around.
As much as he enjoyed considering himself a lone wolf, the brief connection with others during one-night stands always reminded him he was still partly human, even when others considered him a savage brute.
He savored it, savored when he had (Y/N) on his lap, his chest rising and falling with heaves and lips parted to release low grunts and groans. He savored the feeling of (Y/N)'s arms wrapped around his shoulders loosely, his breath fanning against his ear and allowing Logan to hear every noise he exhaled.
He savored the ability to dig his fingers into soft flesh without worry, or sink his teeth into (Y/N)'s collarbone and feel the mark heal beneath his lips. He mostly savored the addictive warmth encircling him and the pleasure that made his thighs tremble.
But after a few days, the mutant disappeared from Alberta, and a week later Logan took a girl by the name of Rogue under his wing.
"You may see another familiar face here."
Logan turned his attention away from the mutant children, trying to ignore the way his heart warmed at the sight of them living happy lives without the threat of danger from those who despised them for simply existing.
He searched the outer yard for any sign of Marie, but he assumed she was likely still getting acclimated to her new home at the school, and finally peered down at Charles questioningly. Charles smiled knowingly and motioned off to the side.
"While I prefer having (Y/N) here for his safety, he enjoys venturing out to help others. I hear you two became acquainted while he was away." Charles spoke.
Without thinking twice, Logan's head snapped in the direction he'd pointed in, his heart leaping into his throat at the sight of (Y/N) walking toward him with that godforsaken grin that'd plagued Logan's thoughts and dreams for weeks.
"(Y/N) has called this school home for many years, and he often helps with the more severe injuries. I'll allow you two a moment to... catch up."
(Y/N) nodded to Charles as they walked past each other before stopping in front of Logan and crossing his arms over his chest, his head tilting playfully to the side and eyes drinking him in.
"It's nice seeing you again, Logan." He stepped closer, eyes lifting to meet his once more. "Here I was thinking about taking a drive back to Alberta. Guess you must've read my mind."
"Pretty sure that's Charles's thing," Logan replied, pressing this thumb into (Y/N)'s chin and curling the rest of his fingers under it.
He had to, otherwise he would've convinced himself he was imagining things, that the mutant who'd managed to make him laugh and smile was still miles away someplace else.
"What were you doin' in Alberta?"
"I don't-"
"I heard rumors and whispers about a man down in Laughlin City and thought I'd see what all the fuss was about. I would've asked you to come back with me but.. that didn't seem like the type of pillow talk you'd appreciate." He explained softly, leaning into Logan's touch and closing his eyes briefly when Logan pressed his palm fully against his cheek, still caught in the fleeting worry he'd wake up and find himself on the side of the icy road with Marie nowhere in sight.
"You're here now, though." His eyes opened. "Are you staying?"
"Oh, come on," (Y/N) scoffed lightly, warmly, and moved in even closer. "It's nice here, Logan. I can finish showing you around and we'll find something for you to do. The food's good, the rooms are nice, and it's... freshening to hear the laughter of kids finally being happy. You'd make a helluva teacher, I bet. Everyone's favorite." His genuine tone shifted into a teasing one, laughing softly when Logan rolled his eyes.
Lifting his brows, Logan smirked and brought him close, itching to close the distance despite a heated voice in his head telling him he didn't deserve the warmth and acceptance. "We can start and end the tour in the dorms-"
"Only if you promise to stay." (Y/N) cooed, tilting his head away to dodge a kiss but he allowed himself to be tugged into an embrace.
His arms curled around Logan's shoulders, lips drawing back into a wide smile before he planted a kiss on the corner of Logan's lips. "If you stay, we can finish what we started... and see where it goes."
Logan leaned back, his brows twitching down into a furrow but (Y/N)'s grip around his shoulders tightened, forcing him to stay and not flee from his words.
He swallowed, conflicted in the way his brain and heart battled. Half of him screamed at him to leave, to go before he could mess everything up but another part desperately clung to the idea of staying and finally having a place to call home, finally having a person to call home.
He noted the flicker of uncertainty in (Y/N)'s features following his silence, felt him beginning to draw back from the embrace. Logan secured his arms around him and allowed a ghost of a smile to slip.
"Yeah," He murmured, weakly at first. "I'd like that."
"Good luck, Lo." (Y/N) whispered to him, planting a kiss on his cheek and dragging his fingers over Logan's beard with a mischievous glint in his pretty (E/C) eyes.
Truthfully, Logan hadn't been fully listening to what Scott- or well, what Cyclops had spoken about in the briefing about their latest mission.
He'd heard the usual 'group of anti-mutants' and promptly tuned out afterward in favor of soaking in how (Y/N) looked in the dark suit, though noted somewhat glumly how it didn't allow him to wear the engagement ring.
His staring hadn't gone unnoticed given the amused glances Jean stole and the exasperated exhale from Cyclops before they were dropped near the location of the warehouse.
"(Y/N)!"
They'd separated pretty soon after, splitting up to cover more ground given the amount of people working with the group. It hadn't taken long at all for the fighting to begin, and despite Cyclops pushing for them to use as little force as possible, Logan couldn't help bruising and cutting a few people up.
He managed to knock out a gunman when he heard the distinctive clap of thunder. Amusement had him cracking a grin followed by pity toward whichever fool dared face against Storm, but then he heard her shriek:
"They-" Storm swallowed thickly, her chest rising and falling with panic. "They shot him. He- He can't heal with the bullet-"
Too high-pitched, loud, and full of horror for Logan to brush aside as a warning call. His footsteps thundered throughout the halls as he moved, shoving and swinging his claws at anyone who stood in his way until he stumbled upon the sight, eyes immediately finding (Y/N) on his knees with Storm beside him.
Logan beelined toward them, dropping into a crouch and promptly feeling a wave of nausea pass over him at the sight of (Y/N) blood-stained hands grasping desperately at his throat.
"Darlin'," Logan exhaled shakily, pulling him swiftly into his arms and attempting to keep his composure despite the wheezy exhales and gurgles filling his ears.
Blood spread across his throat, blobs of it levitating only to lose their perfectly round form and fall onto the floor with splatters each time (Y/N) grimaced.
"I know it hurts but you have to focus on gettin' the bullet out. Baby, hey, focus."
Storm fiddled with her earpiece, stuttering out explanations to Jean and Cyclops and urging them to move quicker. Logan thumbed away the tears that slipped down his (S/C) skin, forcing himself to give encouraging nods and smiles despite the hurricane threatening to break within his chest.
(Y/N) stared up at him, wide eyes filling with tears and shoulders shaking with his hiccups and trembles. The red tint of blood on his lips filled Logan with a familiar sense of dread, his arms holding him tighter so (Y/N) wouldn't feel him trembling as well.
He watched the blood oozing out of the wound rise, oddly shaped and raised while he worked on shoving the lodged bullet out of his throat before he choked to death on the very thing he could control.
He wheezed and coughed occasionally, droplets of blood flinging onto Logan's cheek and coloring his beard but he paid it no mind.
(Y/N) tilted his chin up toward him and Logan swooped in eagerly, kissing him despite the blood that danced on his tongue afterward. He heard the familiar clatter of metal falling onto the floor and leaned back, eyes flickering around frantically until he spotted the bloody bullet rolling around beside them.
"Hey, hey, you did it. You-"
Storm exhaled shakily. "Logan."
Logan's head snapped back toward (Y/N)'s face, first noticing the dullness in his eyes and then the way blood continued freely oozing from the wound.
He stared at him, his mind struggling to comprehend the limpness in (Y/N)'s body and the stillness of his chest, the world around him slowly coming to a standstill. Storm's sniffling cries and the frantic questions from Jean and Cyclops as they finally arrived became distant, unable to focus on anything but (Y/N).
"You can't do this to me. You promised you'd never leave."
"Hey..." Logan exhaled, cupping his cheek as his brows furrowed into a tight-knit. "Hey, hey, hey, you- you can't do this."
He furiously blinked away the tears that glazed over his vision, rubbing his thumb into (Y/N)'s cheek and waiting for him to nuzzle into his touch as he always did, but it never came.
"You can't do this. You can't-" Logan cradled his body against his chest, burying his face into his collarbone as he'd done dozens of times before. (Y/N) remained unresponsive, his arms falling limply at his sides from Logan's movements.
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