and charles is such a sweetheart

Mutant Abilities

Pairing: Charles Xavier x fem!Reader

Summary: Charles uses his powers to talk to you while you’re dancing, but this isn’t any basic conversation.

Warning: nsfw!!! dirty talk, car sex, dom!charles, smut basically

Word Count: 1,023

A/N: Legit have no idea which movie this is set during, but Charles isn’t in his wheelchair.

Originally posted by randomimaginesx

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“Laura saw you two making-out...” - Old Man Logan x Reader

#6. Getting caught making out with Logan for @jobean12-blog.

At first I started to write a story with “normal” Logan, but then…Well I got inspired by (film) Old Man Logan and Laura, so…yeah. Though it didn’t turn out how I initially thought it would, it turned out more…serious than funny, but like, with a movie like Logan as an original material…you know ^^’. . Hope you’ll still like it and will be ok with the Old Man Logan blahblahblah :

(My masterlist blog here :


You couldn’t even recall the last time you had a moment like this…Was it over a year ago ? Before Charles lost control of his power and destroyed everything he ever build ? Before all your friends died ? Before you, Logan and the professor had to run away from the X-Mansion and hide because of what happened ? Right before you called Caliban for help maybe ?

You couldn’t remember. But it was hell of a long time ago.

Yes, Logan and you hadn’t had a moment of intimacy like that in ages…

Ever since the Xavier’s school incident.

This was so refreshing. So nice.

Feeling his tongue in your mouth, his body flushed against yours, his hands roaming your body, his smile in the kiss as your grip tightened around him.

It almost felt like old times. When things were easier. When things weren’t so complicated. When it was just you and your loved ones, living an almost normal life in the mansion, saving the World on a regular basis…

But this time was long gone, and you definitely cherished that fleeting moment you had right now with your Wolverine.


It wasn’t really meant to happen. It kinda just did. Which made it even greater than  it would be if it was planned.

Since you had to run away from the X-Mansion over a year ago, you and Logan rarely had time for yourselves.

He was working really late everyday, and when he came home, was too tired to do anything else but sleep. And you had quite busy days too, working your ass off as well to be able to buy the sun seeker one day, and leave this godforsaken place.

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Comatose-Chapter 3

Summary: You are the sister of Charles Xavier, You are part of the Avengers and Dating Bucky Barnes, Unbeknownst to you Bucky is having an affair with Natasha, you catch them in the act and things go downhill from there. You are a Mutant with Similar powers to Jean, Only with Immortality thrown in.

Pairings: Bucky x Reader, Bucky X Natasha, Logan Howlett X Reader

Warnings: Angst, Violence, Cheating, Feelings of worthlessness, Depression.

Your three days were up. It was time to go back to the compound to face Bucky and Natasha, and you had dragged Logan along for moral support. He had grumbled and fought you on it, eventually relenting by saying he would start packing up the meager belongings you’d kept in your bedroom at the compound.

Stepping out of the elevator, your nerves make themselves known. You really do not want to be here, do not want to see him, or her. On the verge of panic, hyperventilating wildly, Logan grabs your hand, giving it a quick squeeze, and muttering, “Almost done, sweetheart. You can do this.” Gathering your remaining strength, coating it in a layer of bravado, you make your way to the meeting room where the Avengers have settled to discuss your transfer.

“Morning,” you mumble as you enter, avoiding the pained gaze of Bucky.

“Well, hey there stranger,” Tony quips. “You ready?” You had spoken to Tony as soon as Logan had informed you that he had received the call from Charles. He wasn’t happy with your decision, but he respected it nonetheless.

“Yeah, I’m ready,” you reply.

“Alright! Let’s get this started,” he says as he claps his hands together, the sudden noise pulling a flinch out of you. “(y/n) is being transferred out to an undisclosed location, to help head up an all Mutant team.” You screw your eyes shut as a slew of protests erupt around the room. You can’t bear to look at any of them; to see the hurt on their faces.

“(Y/N) what the hell?” comes Steve voice. “You disappear for three days and then come back to tell us your leaving?” he asks, disbelief coloring his tone.

“Steve,” you sigh. “I can’t be here anymore. I can’t offer you a better explanation than that.” As your gaze catches Bucky’s, he’s looking at you like he’s going to break apart any second. His entire being screams defeat, and you can’t help but feel guilty. Casting your gaze down, you mumble, “I’m sorry, I made a promise to you all, but I need to do this for me. If you ever need me, I’m just a phone call away.” Lurching to your feet, you rush to leave, reaching the door in record time. Flinging it open, you race out, frantically searching for Logan.

Spotting him lounging on a chair, your bags packed at his feet, you walk quickly toward him. “We need to go. Right now,” you hiss when you hear footsteps behind you. Grabbing Logan by the hand, you try desperately to move his adamantium filled behind out of the chair and toward the elevator.

“I see you moved on fairly quickly, (y/n),” comes Bucky’s angry declaration causing you to freeze mid step; frustration and hurt welling inside you.

“At least I waited until we broke up, Barnes!” you retort scathingly.

“This him?” Logan asks, eerily calm. You don’t reply as you whirl around to face Bucky, stopping dead at the sight of Natasha next to him.

“Listen, Bub, you need to back the fuck off. Haven’t ya done enough harm?” Logan snarls, advancing menacingly on Bucky.

“This is not your fight, Logan!” you yell, grabbing for his hand, trying to keep them apart which sets Bucky off. He pulls back his metal fist and lands a hard punch to Logan’s jaw; the resounding clang of metal on metal leaves your ears ringing, and you wait for the shit storm that’s about to be unleashed. “Logan,” you plead as he unsheathes his claws.

Taking his classic fight stance, claws singing when he runs them together, Logan eyes Bucky up and down. “Alrigh’ Bub. Ya asked for it!”

Logan runs at Bucky while you try and yank him back by the edge of his shirt. It tears, sending you falling onto your ass as the force propels you backward. Bucky is holding his own, landing heavy blows to Logan’s body, who slashes a long gash into Bucky’s thigh.

“Stop!” Natasha screams, making a beeline for Logan.

You scramble upright, flinging out a blast of power that sends her into the wall. Focusing on the fighting men, you separate them forcefully with your mind. “ENOUGH!” you scream, voice amplified by your power. “Stop acting like children! Wait for me outside, Logan.” He growls like an angry animal, refusing to move toward the exit. “Logan, please!” you beg, and he finally relents, spitting at Bucky’s feet as he makes his retreat. What cuts and bruises he’d sustained were already healing, unlike Bucky whose blood was dripping onto the floor.

“What the hell was that!” Natasha yells at you. “Your friend nearly killed him!”

You can only stare at her in shock. “You, Natasha, have no right to speak to me. No right to look at me. Get the fuck out of my face before I ruin yours!” you snarl at her. She visibly pales at the threat, and Bucky appears to come to her rescue.

Except he hasn’t, his intentions made clear with his next words. “Don’t leave,” he murmurs, limping toward you, causing Natasha to gasp in surprise.  

“W-what?” Natasha whispers.

“Please baby, don’t leave. We can work this out,” he reiterates, ignoring Natasha, coming to a halt before you. “I can make this right, (Y/N),” he murmurs as he pulls you to his chest; his grip on you is nearly bone crushing. “I made a mistake, I’m sorry. Please don’t go.”

Natasha’s sharp intake of breath is filled with pain, and you feel slightly vindictive. She hadn’t been expecting this, and you debate for a second if you really need to go; if you couldn’t forgive him and move past this.

No, you think. There was no real guarantee he wouldn’t do it again. He had hurt you, he had shattered your sense of self worth with one action, and he had made you lose control of yourself. No. No matter how badly you wanted to stay with him, you needed time for reflection away from all of them.

“I’m sorry, Bucky,” you say as you push away from him. “But I can’t stay here, I can’t be with you. Not after what you did.” A stray tear pushes itself past your defenses and falls down your cheek. “I love you, but I won’t let you break me,” you say as you walk away, hands shaking and pain threatening to overwhelm you.

With every agonizing step you take away from him, you repeat to yourself, I can do this, I can do this, I can do this.

Tags: Please tell me if i missed anyone. xox

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Charles Xavier x reader (yes, another one)

Originally posted by julee-art

“Y/N, could you please come to my office for a second?” You heard Charles’s voice ring in your head.

“What is it Charles? Can’t you tell me now?” You asked turning pages in the book you were reading.

“I would prefer you coming here darlin’. It’s important.” You sighed and put the book down.

“Alright professor. I’m coming.”

“Thank you dear.” You walked up the stairs of the busy school. It was filled with children of all ages. From afar you could see Hank desperately trying to rush some of them into a classroom but that didn’t seem to work very well. You giggled and walked down the corridor to the professor’s office. You knocked twice and entered the room.

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Beautiful Imperfection|| Charles Xavier

Originally posted by mcavoy


Tag List: @xavier-chxrles @katiedreamy @rivertales @t0ny-st4nk 

Prompt: Charles believes you can’t be in love with him because he lacks one thing almost every man has - legs. So when you finally realize it makes him super insecure, you set off to show him that his imperfection is indeed quite beautiful. 

Set during Xmen Apocalypse - in a world where Alex Summers never really died! Yay!

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You - Alex Summers

words - 2,356

pairing - alex summers x fem!reader

warnings - angst, character death (my poor bby :’( )

a/n - i’ve posted this before but it’s one of my favorite pieces i’ve written so i’m posting it again lol

tags - @put-in-writing , @alexs-ummers , @v-writings , @harringtonmaximoff . @emmcfrxst

hope you don;t mind me taggin’ ya’ll!


If you must wait, wait for them here in my arms as I shake

For three years you waited.

1,095 days you spent waiting for Alex to return home from the war. You didn’t know the exact day he was coming home, just an estimation, so as you sat there, in one of his old sweaters, with a cup of tea and a book you had read a thousand times before, you weren’t expecting a knock to sound at the door - let alone who was on the other side of it.

Your furrowed your eyebrows, setting your book and mug down, walking towards the door. You unlocked the locks and swung the door open, revealing the face you hadn’t seen in person in over three years.

Your eyes immediately filled with tears as you launched yourself into his arms, wrapping your arms around his neck tightly, pulling him as close as possible. Your tears soaked into the olive colored fabric, causing small dark spots.

His arms wound around your waist, holding you tightly. And you knew, if he could, he would never let you go. He picked you up slightly, your toes barely brushing against the floor, and lowered his head into the crook of your neck, finally letting the tears he had been holding in out. And once he did it was like a dam broke, one that he feared he may never be able to close and he was oddly okay with that.

You felt his tears drip off his chin onto your shoulder, as you held onto him like the only tether to life itself.

It was then, in that moment of pure relief and serenity, you knew that those months of waiting were worth it - he was worth it.

If you must weep, do it right here in my bed as I sleep

You shot up, body trembling and tears dripping off your chin. Your voice came out in ragged gasps as you tried to catch it. You reached a hand out to the side of the bed, feeling for Alex’s sleeping form, but finding his side empty.

Your eyes widened in panic and you quickly shuffled out of bed, headed for the kitchen. You walked out of your bedroom, to see the kitchen light on. You sighed in relief, knowing your dream had been just that and followed the light into the kitchen.

You padded in softly, Alex’s shirt from a few hours before brushing against your thighs. You saw Alex, clad in a pair of gray sweatpants, hanging low on his hips, and leaning against the counter, running a hand through his hair. He leaned his elbows on the counter and closed his eyes, tipping his head back and exhaling deeply.

You stopped in front of him, wrapping your arms around his torso, burying your face in his bare chest. You felt him tense momentarily, before relaxing and wrapping his arms around you, pulling you flush against him.

“You had a nightmare too?” you mumbled, lips moving softly against his chest.

He nodded silently, resting his chin on the top of your head. He took a deep breath through his nose, the scent of your lavender conditioner soothing his still racing heart. “You wanna talk about it?”

He shook his head, pressing a kiss to the top of your head softly. “You wanna talk about yours?”

“No,” you said, smiling against his chest. “I’m alright now.”

You pulled away, your hand trailing from his side to his wrist, grabbing it softly. You pulled him towards you and began walking back to the bedroom. “C’mon, let’s get to bed.”

He smiled and followed you out of the kitchen and into the room. You laid on the bed and pulled him down, his arms supporting his weight as he hovered over you. He leaned his face down, nose brushing yours, as his breath swept the stray hairs out of your eyes.

He softly pressed his lips to yours, his lips taking their time with his ministrations. Your hand traveled from his shoulder to his hair, weaving your fingers in the brown locks that have grown much longer in the years he’s been back from war.

He pulled away, resting his forehead on yours, eyes closed with the hint of a smile on his face. He dropped himself to your side and pulled you closer, prompting you to rest your head on his chest with an arm slung over his torso.

He pressed a kiss to your temple, murmuring a quiet, “I love you” against it.

You turn your head to look at him, smiling tiredly with half-lidded eyes. “I love you more than you could ever imagine.”

If you must mourn, my love, mourn with the moon

and the stars up above. If you must mourn, don’t do it alone

You and Alex sat on the couch in Sean’s old house, the Cassidy’s sitting on the love seat opposite the two of you, with Sean’s cousin, Black, in the chair beside them.

Alex had his head down, arms slung over his knees, jaw clenched hard. You hadn’t known Banshee like Alex, all the memories you had of him were stories told to you by Alex of their time at Xavier’s, but you felt Alex’s loss as well.

You wrapped your arm around Alex’s shoulders, leaning your head on his shoulder. He looked up at you through his hair, before straightening his back and wrapping an arm around your waist, sliding you closer to him. He pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead, before slightly burying his face in the hair draped over your shoulder.

You felt the tears roll down his cheeks and onto your shoulder, the liquid seeping into the fabric, coloring it a dark red. You felt his shoulders shake slightly, as his arm tightened around you. You brought your hands to his hair and ran your fingers through it, murmuring softly in his ear.

He raised his head from your shoulder, eyes red and bloodshot, tear tracks leading to his chin. He walked over to Mr. Cassidy and shook his hand and repeated the action for Mrs. Cassidy and Black.

You smiled sadly, giving them your condolences, and followed Alex out of the house and to his car.

Although Alex had already known about Sean’s death, he was in the war, so he wasn’t able to give his condolences. Seeing his family, and hearing them talk about what had happened to him was more than enough to move both you and Alex to tears.

The entire trip home was spent in silence. The two of you walked into your shared apartment. He was headed towards the bedroom when you grabbed his wrist stopping him in his tracks.

“I understand that you’re grieving, but Alex, please, don’t push me away. Let me be there for you.”

You grabbed his face in your hands, bringing it to meet yours. You brushed your lips against his softly, before pressing yours to his. The kiss was tender and short, but just enough to convey what you were trying to say.

He looked at you, studying your features, before you saw his eyes well up with tears, the first couple dropping down his cheeks, hitting the corners of his mouth. You pulled him into a hug, wrapping your arms snugly around his neck. He wrapped his arms around you tight, with the fear that you would disappear as easily and quickly as everyone else.

He pulled you closer to him, a feat you didn’t think possible, and reveled in the comfort that came with being in your arms.

If you must leave, leave as though fire burns under your feet

“It won’t take long, babe, I promise,” Alex, slipping on a shirt over his dark washed jeans. “Scott’s powers have manifested and I really need to get him to the professor.”

You sat up, holding the sheet to your still bare chest. “I know, he’s your brother, but I’ll miss you.”

He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your lips, pulling away with a grin. “I think I’ll miss you more,” he said, accentuating every word with a kiss.

You giggled into his lips, causing him to laugh. “I doubt that.”

“Of course you do,” he replied, walking towards the door. “I will be back in like two hours, tops.”

“You better come back, Summers, or I’ll find you. I know where you live, lest you forget.”

Alex shot you a lopsided grin. “I have you here, in my bed, waiting for me to get home. I’d be a damn fool not to come back.”

“Damn straight,” you said, smirking.

Alex groaned and jogged back over to you, pressing another lingering kiss on your lips. “Okay, now I really have to go.”

“Love you, ass hat,” you called to his retreating form.

“Love you too, sweetcheeks.”

If you must speak, speak every word as though it were unique

You sat on the couch, eyes glued to the latest reality show that had its hooks in you when you heard your phone ring. You pushed off the couch and padded over to the landline on the wall of your kitchen.

“Hello?” you answered, twirling the cord around your finger.

“Hey, doll,” Alex answered. “It’s me.”

You smiled, biting your lip. “Hey, babe. What’s up?”

You heard him sigh on the other line and you knew what the next words out of his mouth were gonna be before he even spoke them. “I’ll be home later than I thought. Charles needs me to take him to see Moira Mactaggert and Hank has to watch the school while he’s not there.”

You groaned in frustration, leaning your back against the wall the phone hung on. “It’s okay, I understand, it’s Charles. How did everything go with Scott?”

Alex chuckled on the other line. “Okay, I guess. He burned down Charles’ favorite tree, but he got accepted. He reminds me a lot of myself when I was his age.”

You laughed slightly, pushing off the wall and walking over to the window to look outside. “Well, he is your brother. I expect nothing less from a Summers.”

He laughed, and you could tell he was sporting the biggest grin. “Babe, I gotta go, but I’ll see you when I get home. Okay?”

“Gotcha. I love you, Alex. Be safe.”

“I love you too,” he said, the smile ringing clear through his tone. “I will.”

If you must die, sweetheart, die knowing your life was my life’s best part.

And if you must die, remember your life.

You stood there, raindrops bouncing off your umbrella, over Alex’s grave that held no body. He didn’t deserve this, this death. Hell, he didn’t deserve the life he got.

He deserved so much more. He deserved the world and you would have given it to him if you had the chance. He was so brave and selfless, it was no surprise to you when Hank told you how he died - trying to stop Apocalypse from taking Charles.

Here you are, standing before the headstone with his name, date of birth, and some meaningless quote scrawled into the stone, that did him no justice. Said nothing of his time with the X-Men or his time in the service and it sure as hell didn’t say what he sacrificed his life for.

Your jaw was clenched as the tears flowed nonstop down your cheeks and off your chin, mixing with the rain once they left your skin. The sky seemed to be mourning the loss of Alex Summers just as much as you were because it cried for hours.

You couldn’t help but stare blankly at the plot where they had buried an empty coffin because his body couldn’t be found. You would never say it out loud, but there was a small part of you that was skeptical. Alex shouldn’t have been killed by that blast, he would have absorbed it. But, then you would start thinking more rationally. Well, if he’s alive, then where is his body?

You heard someone walk up to you, but you couldn’t be bothered to turn your head to look when they stopped to your right.

“He loved you a lot, you know,” Scott said, lens-covered eyes staring ahead at his brother’s grave. “You were his world. He would’ve done anything for you.”

A fresh wave of tears hit your eyes as you ducked your head down to avoid Scott’s eyes, even though you couldn’t very well see them behind his glasses. “I know. He was my everything too.”

You sniffled, running a hand down your face, thankful you didn’t wear makeup today. “He worried about you, Scott. He didn’t want you going through what he went through, solitary confinement, the war. He knew you would make something of yourself. And so do I. Don’t let his absence make you trip up.”

Scott looked down, before looking over to you. You meet his gaze and sent him a sad smile. You watched as a tear slowly fell from beneath his glasses, then another, then another. Until tears were freely streaming down, choked sobs wracking his body.

You bit your lip, trying, but failing, to stop your own sobs from escaping your throat. You pulled him into a hug, wrapping your arms around him as his body shook.

You thought back to the times you had comforted Alex, pulling him close, whispering comforting words to calm him down. You thought back to when he talked about Darwin dying and then your mind wandered to a couple years back when you went with him to the Cassidy residence.

These memories caused a new wave of tears to cascade from your eyes, soaking the shoulder of Scott’s suit jacket.

The world had lost one of it’s best and the only people to know about it were the few that were closest to him. The few that had actually bothered to get close to him, to get to know him.

Although it hurts and although the pain right now seems unbearable. You don’t regret a thing.

Alex Summers was the best part of your life. He made your small, insignificant life a little more bearable.

Finding Her

Part 1/5


Pairing: marliza (maria x eliza)

Premise: modern soulmate au – Eliza and Maria desperately seek their soulmate in a world where their first words to you are written on your arm from birth.

Warnings: swearing

Word Count: 1337

a/n: I’m really excited for this fic!! The next part will hopefully be up tomorrow, but may be up the next day… anyway, I hope you enjoy <3

Maria fiddled with her sleeve, yanking it as far over her wrist as possible. She hated showing her soulmate tattoo at work. On several occasions, guys with no tattoos had read hers aloud, trying to trick her into thinking they were soulmates.

She had always had this kind of problem. She was exceedingly beautiful, with a gorgeous curvy figure, beautiful soft curls of hair, and large, deep eyes. Guys were always taking advantage of her; mostly guys with no soulmate tattoos, but, sadly, several with them.

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Comatose-Chapter 8

Summary: You are the sister of Charles Xavier. You are part of the Avengers and dating Bucky Barnes. Unbeknownst to you Bucky is having an affair with Natasha. When you catch them in the act, things go downhill from there. You are a Mutant with similar powers to Jean, only with Immortality thrown in.

Pairings: Bucky x Reader, Bucky X Natasha, Logan Howlett X Reader

Warnings: Angst, Violence, Cheating, Feelings of worthlessness, Depression.

The days had flown by in a haze of color. Days filled with sparring and forced laughter, with trying to be the person you once were. You had forced yourself to feel, to smile, to laugh, and you were slowly making progress. Lately, it had been less about forcing and more about living. You could surprise yourself by laughing without having to think that maybe you should first. The numbness was still there, but it was less. The wall was weaker. Day by day you had gotten better, closer to who you once had been.

Ultimately, you felt ready to go on missions again, which had brought you to your current predicament.

Grabbing your assailant by the hair, you bash his head into the wall twice before dropping him to the floor. Daintily stepping over him, you make your way into the room containing the servers. It was supposed to be a simple recon mission, but, as usual, you had encountered more resistance than you thought there would be. Inserting the flash drive into the USB port, you start the download, while straining your senses for any movement outside. Which is why it takes you a minute to notice the intel that is flashing across the screen, currently being downloaded.

You suck in a sharp breath as you  backtrack through the files. What the hell? Panic mounting, you scan the information as quickly as you can. Your movements are jerky as you detach the flash drive, and make your way back to the jet as quickly as you can. A few stragglers get in your way but are dispatched with a flurry of movement or a flick of power.

Stepping onto the jet, you nod at Logan when he asks if you got what you came for. Plopping down in the seat opposite him, you let out a long defeated sigh.

“You alright kiddo?” he  asks worriedly.

Raising your gaze to his, you swallow down the lump forming in your throat. “No. We have a problem. We need to get back ASAP.” Urgency bleeds into your tone. Logan studies you intently for a moment before nodding once and turning his attention back to flying the jet.

Thirty minutes later, you hurry through the mansion, desperately needing to get to Charles. You spot him speaking with Storm and send out a mental call. He pauses briefly, nods minutely, and excuses himself from Storm. You trail behind him, fear for the people you love setting off every nerve in your body, making you jumpy.

“We have a problem,” you say, once the doors to his office have closed behind you. As you plonk your butt into a chair, the exhaustion you feel is palpable, worming its way into your mind. “I found a classified op outlining an attack on the Mansion, Charles.They intend to kidnap me and morph my power into something dark. They want another phoenix.”

He stares at you for a full ten seconds. “Who does?” he finally asks.

“Hydra. They want to use me to take out the Avengers. They have plans to launch an assault on the compound and recapture the Winter Soldier.” Pinching the bridge of your nose you forge on. “They want to use us against each other, Charles. They want to use me against James.” Breath hitching in your throat, you try your best to quell the tide of tears threatening to stem over. Not now, you think. You’ve been so numb for so long, you don’t need the return of these feelings now. Not now when feeling nothing makes things easier. If you let the fear in, let the emotions return now, you will break. And if you break… will you ever be able to patch yourself back together?

“We must warn them,” Charles replies. “And we must get you to safety.”

“I am not sitting idly by while the people I love are in danger, Charles!” you snap. You need to do something, be in the action, or you’ll go crazy. If you’re too still, you’ll feel and lose what little control you’ve gained these last weeks.

“What do you propose we do, (y/n)?” he inquires.

Steeling yourself for your next words, you breathe deeply before you reply, “I need to go back. I have to help.” He makes to protest but you hold up your hand. “I have to do this, Charlie.”

Though he sighs, Charles nods able to understand your needs, perhaps even better than you can with how he’s been in your head lately chip, chip, chipping away at your walls.. Placing his fingers against his temple he sends out a call for Logan.

The silence stretches between you while you await Logan’s arrival, each deeply absorbed in your own thoughts. You hear the tell-tale shuffle of Logan outside the door, and a small smile plays on your lips. He throws open the door without knocking, cigar dangling from his lips, hair in disarray, and grease stains covering him from the waist up.There isn’t an inch of skin on his forearms which isn’t covered in some kind of black stain, and his once white wife-beater is now a murky, sweat stained grey with patches of black where he’d clearly wiped his hands.

You quirk a brow at him, lips twitching, and playfully quip, “No time for a shower?”  

He cocks a brow and chews on the end of his cigar, the look on his face the one that calls you smartass without needing to voice the word. “Trying to get me outta my clothes already, sweetheart?” he shoots back, a smirk spreading around the mangled cigar. You roll your eyes but Charles clears his throat meaningfully before you get a chance to fire back.

“I have an errand for you and (Y/n),” he says, putting an end to your bickering. The spoilsport.

Logan groans knowing instinctively he’s not going to like whatever this errand will be. Finally removing the cigar from his lips, he mutters, “Ah hell.”

Twenty minutes, and one awkward phonecall to Tony later, you head for your shower as Logan heads for his. Stripping off your soiled combat suit, you step under the spray, allowing the hot water to massage some of the tension out of your tight shoulders. You know that going back to the compound will open wounds not yet healed, hurts not yet dealt with, but you had little choice in the matter.

Staying at the mansion would put the children and your family in danger. Sure they were special children, but they were nowhere near ready to be X-men, and Charles could take care of himself, but that didn’t mean you would let him if leaving made that choice unnecessary. You had to leave, and you had to warn The Avengers. It wasn’t an ideal situation, but you had little choice in the matter. Still, if you spent an extra ten minutes hiding out in your shower, not yet ready to face what was coming, who was going to call you on it?

Stepping out of the shower and wrapping yourself in a towel you make your way into your bedroom. Logan is leaning against the opposite wall, your bags packed at his feet. You wonder if he even washed the grease off, or if it was just hidden under the long sleeved plaid shirt for no one that dirty could get ready that fast without cutting a few corners.

“I’ll be ten minutes,” you inform him. He grunts his understanding, a very Logan thing to do. It helps you feel the tiniest bit better. Like this is all normal and you can get through what comes next. “Thank you for packing for me.”

He arches a brow in your direction. “Are you gonna be alright, kid?” he asks hesitantly. “I don’t know if going back there is the best decision for ya.”

Sighing, you step behind a screen to change. “What choice do I have, Logan? Should I let them burn? Become what everyone is afraid I will become?” Zipping up the fly of you jeans you reach for the bra hanging over the top of the screen. “I will not stay out of this fight. I will protect the people I care for. No matter the cost.” Pulling a shirt over your head, you step out from behind the screen.

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

Your eyes dart to Logan and immediately lock with his. They’re hard, hot with the anger in them. But you can see the fear living there, the desperation hidden behind layers of gruffness and his ‘I don’t care’ attitude which isn’t fooling anyone. The guy’s got a marshmallow center, soft and gooey, and he’s afraid. Afraid that he’ll be called on to do the unthinkable a second time.

A flash of memory flits through your mind, but instead of Jean standing before him, his claws through her body, it’s you standing on that hill. You shake your head to clear the image. There’s only one problem with his fear. Those claws of his, while painful, can’t kill you.

Nodding slowly, you walk across the room, reminded with every step just what a predator he can be as he straightens up to loom large, seeming to suck the air from the room with his determined scowl. Reaching for his hand, you pass a feather light caress over his knuckles. Over the claws which have taken more lives than either of you care to count. He curls his hand into a fist, pulling it away. A warning growl rises in his chest. An argument is brewing, one you stop by placing your finger against his lips.

When his silence is guaranteed, you shift your fingers to the stubble of his cheek. Coarse hair, rough beneath your fingertips, leads up into his sideburns. Brushing your thumb over his cheekbone, you feel him relax under the soft touch, a wild thing tamed for the moment and willing to listen. “Logan. I’m not Jean. I won’t fail in this. I’m not her. You’re not going to have to make that sacrifice. Not again.”

His eyes search yours, holding you there, looking deep for something that you can’t define. When his piercing gaze darkens, the hard eyes filling with an emotion that isn’t fear or anger, but another that you aren’t sure you wish to name, you freeze before the suddenly hunting Wolverine. It shocks you further when his hand closes around the nape of your neck. The other bands across your back, and he jerks you to him. His mouth is on yours, hot, hard, demanding. Searing through you. Kissing you with an intensity long forgotten. When he lifts his head, you inhale hard, your lungs desperate for air. Heart beating wildly in your chest, you stare up at him in shock and can only think, Fuck…

Logan smirks a wide grin and runs his hand through your hair. “Alright, let’s get moving,” he says, grabbing up your bags and striding purposefully from the room with a nonchalance you envy, as if he hadn’t just kissed you breathless.

He leaves you standing alone, wondering what the hell just happened.

Tags: Here we are pretties. hopefully the tags cooperate. Strike through means tags aren’t working

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1920 Lover

Okay… this was my first attempt at smut, pretty sure it’s not amazing. i have no idea how to describe it. The fic is as wild and untamed as the Jazz Age, a.k.a. my favorite period of American History. yes, it does take place in 1920, where my Fitzgeralds at?! i really hope you like it. Thank you for reading x

The man who had caught her eye seemed smitten with another young lady, with legs exposed to the maximum, and she suspected that she was a dancer from the club she currently sat in. One of his arms was resting loosely around her slim waist, and another held a garnished clear drink, cold, the water droplets dripping onto his leather shoes. His fingers softly rubbed the small area of her hip that she shamefully allowed the world to see, eyes trained on her already swollen lips.

She had seen him duck his head down and press multiple kisses to her full mouth, biting, sucking, licking her bottom lip until she groaned with contentment. She had eventually deposited her drink on the floor besides her and looped her arms around his neck, sensually tugging his frame closer to him. The sight of the two wasn’t the thing that irked her. It was the prickling sensation that swept throughout her body, a sign of self resentment because she realized that she could never substitute the girl. Men like the curly haired fellow just didn’t take interest in girls like herself.

As her gaze fell to the floor, she heard the smack of their lips grow more urgent and she could only feel his massive hand weaving through her hair and the other under her mid length dress, tugging it further up her smooth skin, tilting her head back with a soft yank of her hair, full pink lips pressed the the base of her throat. Her thighs involuntarily squeezed together on the bench she sat on, swallowing roughly as she attempted to eradicate the vulgar thoughts she couldn’t hold back about a man with piercing green eyes.

She had seen him before. He was a frequent visitor of this pub, dancing half drunkenly with women, swaying their hips back and forth against his. His hand always pressed to the lucky girl’s hip, promising a secure grasp on her to make sure she didn’t run away from him. By the looks of the girls’ euphoric expressions on their perfectly shaped features, it was indubitable that the women had no such thoughts of deserting the man. He was simply too enthralling, too inviting to leave behind and offer their bodies to another man. So they stayed with the one who brought them the most pleasure.

Most nights, the man would loop his arm around his prey’s waist and nudge her with his side, indicating toward the double doors of the exit. Everytime he did so, the girl, who sadly watched him from afar, allowed her bruised heart to sink further than the previous night since she knew that once more, her chance to please him, and to be pleased by him, would never come. She wasn’t his type.

Hell, did her mouth water when she watched him strut into the light, eyes narrowed into the crowd to search for his next victim. He never glanced back at the girl who peered at him curiously from under her thick hair, nor did he ever feel her intense gaze on his body. The way he expertly danced, the dimples that indented his cheeks, the vein in his neck when he ran out of breath while kissing another girl’s lips. That’s what she wanted. That’s what she couldn’t get.

“You look like your cat just died,” her blonde friend besides her smirked. “Or you’ve found the man of your dreams.”

The girl shook her head uneasily and swept her hair off her forehead. “Nothing like that, sweetheart.” She got a good look at the other girl whose dress was in ruffles already. “Who did you neck?”

A lazy smile etched on the blonde’s lips and with a scrunch of her nose, she dreamily began: 

“His name is Charles. He was in the war. He’s mighty fine, all tall, dark, handsome. Why, he’s single also, and intelligent! He talks about all the places he’s visited after the war. Oh he could tame a tiger with that raspy voice of his. He said he has a beach house down in Miami. Did you know Miami was in Florida?”

The other girl had latched her eyes back on the man who was feverishly biting the bottom lip of the girl he had pressed against the jazz band. Her eyes burned holes into the area where the man’s hands tugged at the petite girl’s hair, entangling his fingers almost drunkenly. There was a triumphant smirk on her lips, from where the exiled girl could see, when the curly hair was pushed arrogantly to the side by her long fingers. The lion’s mane that once burdened his neck was brushed away.

“Who are you staring at?” the blonde girl suddenly piped, noticing the absence of her friend’s attention.

The girl’s vision flickered back to her concerned friend. “Nobody.”

The Blonde’s eyes turned into slits as she trudged over, blocking the girl’s view, and arched a brow. “Tell me. Now. Have you taken a fancy in a boy?”


“So you have!” she grinned, glancing behind her rapidly. “Who is it? How cute is he? Rate him!”

Normally, the girl would have rolled her eyes and changed the topic, but this time it was different. This time, she almost wanted to blurt out her desire she’d been feeling for weeks for this curly haired man, and perhaps her friend could lend a hand to her. “He’s not cute,” she began quietly, toying with her hands in front of her dress. “He’s…” she trailed off, uncertain.

“What? He’s what?” the Blonde jumped ecstatically, grasping the other girl’s shoulders, a haughty giggle falling from her painted lips.

What could she describe the man as? Attractive? Appealing? No, he was far better than that. He was worthy of more adjectives that gave her friend an inkling about the man’s startling captivating presence. Her voice dropped to a new low. “Sexy.”

The Blonde’s mouth formed an “O” and her eyes twinkled mischievously. “Now you’ve got to tell me who this sexy man is!”

“I-I don’t know his name!” she huffed, crossing her arms across her chest. “He wouldn’t want me either….he’s–”

The girl was cut off with a gasp when she witnessed a final kiss being delivered to the man, his girl caressing his face once more before she was lost in the crowd. However, her eyes meticulously trailed after the girl who abandoned the beautiful man only to find her arms linked with another man. The Blonde’s own eyes followed where her friend was once staring at, watching the mop of curly head bop his head to every note of the trumpet. She now understood.

“He’s alone now,” she hurriedly whispered, bending at her waist to fold her friend’s dress inward at the hem to expose more of her skin. A weak cry of reluctance fell from the girl on top, but went unanswered as she was maneuvered towards the wall where the man stood with his hands shoved deep into his pockets, smiling at the jazz band encouragingly.

“Don’t do this!” she cried to the Blonde but she received no reply from her, only a final push towards her prize.

The man’s stance didn’t waver as he now audibly hummed along with the aged woman on stage belting out lyrics into the half destroyed microphone for the half damaged ears to listen to. The girl shuffling unwillingly towards him faintly remembered a brief introduction to the song months ago and giddiness exploded throughout her stressed body as she carefully approached the stranger.

At the last moment, her hand just shy of touching the man’s shoulder, she faltered and frantically whipped her head around to check if her friend was still behind her. To her horror, there was no sign on the Blonde.

In that moment, the curly haired man turned around, eyes connecting with the alarmed girl’s, raising a questioning eyebrow at her. She swallowed harshly and dropped her awkward intruding hand, allowing it to slap against her thigh.

“Hello,” the man spoke in a rich, raspy voice, evidently amused by her expression. An accent. The man had an accent. From where, it was difficult to decipher. She needed him to speak more.


His expression turned confused, eyes darting behind her to perhaps catch a glimpse of a person who accompanied her. “Can I help yeh?” he inquired, pressing his lips into a tight line.

England. Definitely England. Maybe Birmingham, or some place farther north. He was probably in the war too. He looked so young. He probably knew all about the world.

“Yes?” she seemed confused herself. What did she want from him?

“An’ how would I?”

Damn that sultry accent! If only she had known what a charmer he actually was face to face and not just an object to admire from afar. Perhaps she had pushed this too far. Perhaps it was time for her to apologize and awkwardly lie that he wasn’t the man she had spent all night pining after. The man’s eyes roamed her face as he felt her tense up, somewhat visibly quivering in front of him. This was new. He’d never met a girl so high strung yet insecure. The man towered over her by a good seven inches or somewhere along those lines, making it easily for him to analyze her body language. She was conflicted.

Finally, she cleared her throat and coughed. “I’d like to dance. Take me to dance right now.”

She swore it wasn’t sweat that beaded her back, embarrassingly drenching her thin dress. Suddenly, idea of dancing wasn’t as interesting and she opened her mouth to apologize for her abject move on him.  

“Dance? Yeh wanna dance with me?” he clarified.

The girl’s confidence faltered. Maybe she really wasn’t his type of girl.

“Please,” she still smiled seductively. “You’ve given all the girls a chance besides me.”

A small, knowing smile then spread across his startling red mouth. He tilted his head down almost gentleman-like, but the girl was hasty to catch his sparkling orbs under the heavily blinding lights of the dance floor. Her hand was grasped, quite abruptly, between his lengthy digits, and raised to his lips where a silent kiss was pressed to the skin.

His back was turned to her as he began dragging her to the dance floor. The girl blinked as he led her towards the mass of bodies wildly dancing. When he finally spun around and opened his arms, he spoke again.

“‘M name is Styles, by the way.” he grinned, dimples popping. “Harry Edward Styles.”


Harry didn’t comment on her name like she had childishly desired him to, but all her conflicted feelings seemed to disappear into the musky air when his hand pressed against her hip.

“Well, Miss Y/N. If yeh wanna dance with me, then a girl’s wish is my command.”

For a quick moment, her eyes fluttered shut, a breathy moan falling from her lips. She relished in the feeling of his clearly dominant hand on her delicate hip, his thumb rubbing flames into the flimsy fabric of her dull dress, far too aroused to even be excited. The man she had been watching for weeks was finally touching her, and it was nonsexual, but it’s really all she needed.

The hapless luck she found herself engulfed in was nowhere to be discovered as the band slowed to an older, slower song. It was a perfect song to dance to at a wedding or family reunion. It seemed unacceptable, even inappropriate to be swayed by Harry, who was the type to be disgusted by any notion of romance, yet his hands didn’t drop from her waist. She didn’t pull away from him either, instead opting to throw her arms around his neck.

“I’ve neva’ seen yeh here befor’,” Harry spoke, pressing the girl to his chest. She nearly moaned once more but humiliated from the first time, she bit her tongue.

“You’ve just never noticed me,” she boldly replied, shocking herself.

“Smart mouth yeh’ve got,” Harry noted, chuckling.

The woman’s voice at the stage hushed and the lights dimmed.

“I usually don’t speak to anyone. Dunno what’s gotten into me tonight,” the girl muttered disappointedly. Harry’s chest continued to rumble with laughter.

“Then wha’ is the special occasion tonigh’? Taken a fancy in me?”

His cockiness was evident in his smug voice. His hands were rubbing her lower back, a strong attempt to instigate the flow of hormones, deepened voice causing her jaw to clench.

“Wanted to talk to you.”

“Why?” he insisted. “Jus’ say it. I already know wha’ it is.”

The girl fingered his collar gingerly with her index finger, feeling the soft fabric until her her digits touched his skin. The flesh burned her own but she made no attempt to halt. She hoped the rest of his body was just as soft.

“If you know what it is, then isn’t that enough?”

Harry didn’t reply but he didn’t stop dancing either. The girl in his arms swallowed thickly as the tension grew between the two and awkwardness arose.His fingers still rubbed her back and she still traced his collarbones.

“So yeh want to sleep with me, but yeh can’t look a’ me?” he demanded suddenly on cue when the song ended.

She hadn’t noticed her gaze wasn’t directed on him, preoccupied by the thoughts running through her head about the rest of his body under the dark suit and bowtie. She giggled as a response and jolted when the sound of the trumpet blared into their ears. Her hand slapped against her mouth.

“I didn’t even notice! I’m sorry. I really am! I was just thinking…”

“About wha’?” he narrowed his eyes.

She wondered if she should speak her vulgar thoughts aloud. In a haze of boldness and stupidness, she blurted it.

“About how you taste,” she admitted.

Harry stopped. His limbs were torn away from hers and his eyes intensified. She didn’t mean for it to happen but her panties slowly began to drench under his gaze. She evenly glared back at him. Without a further notice, he propelled her against his chest and dug a hand into her hair, swiftly tilting her head back. She could see the feet of the frantic flappers on the dancefloor and she thought he was about to snap her neck. He licked his lips and inhaled her scent before pressing a wet kiss to the base of her throat.

“Yeh smell like… flowers,” he mumbled against her skin which trembled happily under him. His tongue peeked out of his mouth, swiping just under her ear, a shudder breaking her bent figure. Before she could slam against the floor, Harry’s hands clasped behind her and forced her upright, flustered.

“Yeh ‘ere with anyone?”

It took a couple tries before she understood what he was asking and she muttered something about her blonde friend who seemed insignificant now. She wasn’t particularly useful at this exact moment. “Nobody important.”

The answer seemed acceptable to Harry, so he grinned lopsidedly and placed another kiss discretely under her jaw. He murmured, “So fuckin’ soft. Beautiful.”

Harry snaked an arm around her waist and littered more kisses on her neck before huffing and pulling her towards the exit of the bar.

It was simple finding a cab at this hour at night; they were perched by the curb, a cigarette dangling from the driver’s mouth. The pack of cigarettes in her own clutch now felt heavy with burden. The Blonde had stuffed a pack in her bag in case she needed to offer it to a man as a bribe to speak with her. Once Harry had slid in besides her in the back seats and given the lazy driver the address to his abode, she shakily reached into her bag and produced one.

“Would you care for a smoke?” she inquired as the car began to move.

Harry’s bottom lip disappeared into his mouth as his eyes darted from her beautiful face to the outstretched white stick. He reluctantly shook his head and sighed, “In the army…in the army we were trained t’ quit smoking. Said it would affect the way we fight. I hav’nt touched one since.”

A sigh of relief exhaled from the girl’s mouth. As the cab began, she tossed the pack of cigarettes out the window, praying someone healthy would not pick it up and use it to their disadvantage. Harry’s fingers drummed impatiently against his knee, and it carried on for far too long before he scooted over towards his girl and placed a hand on her thigh. He bent down and connected their lips quickly before she could stare at him quizzically.

The cab driver grunted in distaste but his mouth was heavy and hot on hers, forcing her tight against the window of the car. He tasted faintly of the drink he sipped innocently on the moment she laid eyes on him this night when she spotted him with the unfaithful woman. The mere thought of her ignited the fire in the pits of her stomach that ultimately caused her to wrap her arms around his neck once more and caress his bottom lip with her warm tongue. In response, Harry emitted a noise that made her shove her legs together, desperately hoping they made it in time to his home. She wanted to encourage more noises from him, somewhere from between his legs, but she held her lust off.

The cab driver coughed gruffly and glared at the two birds in the back, aggressively kissing on one another. He really didn’t get paid enough to endure this every night.

Harry broke the kiss first. “I must have yeh know, Y/N,” he gasped for air. “Never done this befor’.”

“Me neither,” Y/N muttered, eager to feel his tongue against hers again, placing her palms on either side of his head, curling his stray hairs with her manicured fingernails. He seemed to love it.

The cab driver coughed again, louder and angrily. Harry shot him a glance and knitted his brows together. “Got a problem do yeh? Don’t get any lovin’ at home? Probably not. How about yeh let me neck my girl and yeh can live your miserable fuckin’ life all…”

“I think we’ve arrived, Harry,” the girl gushed miserably, apologizing profusely to the driver. Harry rolled his eyes and shoved a hand into his jacket pocket, holding a wallet in his hand. He pulled out a crisp 5 dollar bill and handed them to the man. The driver squawked and grabbed it greedily, thanking Harry numerous times.

“For bearing the make out session,” he grinned and then gripped the girl’s hand, leading her to his home.

Harry was evidently wealthy but in a hushed manner. Immediately upon entrance, the girl noticed the neatness of the home. Harry shrugged off his coat and held his hand in front of him, waiting for the pretty girl to follow him inside. A chandelier hung from the ceiling of the foyer, polished wood beneath their feet. Her eyes widened immensely as she drank in his beautiful living room and grand staircase to the bedrooms, she presumed. There was no way this man lived alone.

“Yeh like it,” he said, amused.

“This is all yours?” Her expression resembles the cab drivers.

Harry nodded but then faltered. “Actually, I live with my mates. There’s 3 of them.”

Upon hearing this, the girl paled, glancing uneasily at the man who gazed down at her with his charming green eyes. His eyes were trained on her lips, almost fond over her, until he noticed her look. “But they’re not here! See—”

Then, he proceeded to call out three names, none of which she caught, and listened to his voice echo back against the white walls. He sent a grin to her direction and and tilted his head questionably.

The girl nodded and entangled their fingers bravely together, taking a moment to ponder about the length of his digits, before jutting her chin towards the direction of the stairs, almost as if asking for permission to roam his sanctuary. His thumb rubbed the inside of her wrist, a soothing gesture that should have calmed her burning skin but only added to her excitement.

His bedroom was different that she would have imagined. There was a guitar in the corner of the white room, a record player and black discs scattered around the room. Mortified, Harry stuttered to explain himself. “Didn’ except any girl’s up ‘ere tonight. Didn’ bothe’ cleanin’ up an’ all.”

The girl picked up one disc and inspected the cover. A haughty grin spread across her lips as she looked at Harry through her lashes, then placed the disc on the phonograph. The music erupted into the room and Harry couldn’t possibly be more humiliated, cheeks blazing red. “Bessie Smith? I took you for a jazz guy. But you’re just so surprising aren’t you?”

The curly haired man blinked slowly, as if he were in a trance. “Yeh know her?”

She nodded. “Of course. Only disc my parents own. All I listen to when I’m home.”

His hands pressed against her cheeks, murmuring, “I think I jus’ fell in love with yeh.”

His lips molded on hers, soft and sweet. There was no urgency, to hurry to remove each other’s clothes, but the lust was still prominent. His lips were warm as ever, something she’d never be able to forget. His hand shut off the phonograph, much to her dismay, and he must have felt her upsetting pout because he drew back and stared down at her with hopeful eyes.

“Keep her on.”

Harry laughed. “Yeh wanna listen to some blues while makin’ love?”

The girl shrugged, and looked eagerly around his colossal figure. “Have you got anything more…” she trailed off, unsure of what she yearned to listen to, a brief moment of deja vu to the beginning of the night

“Romantic?” Harry offered, bending to the floor, rummaging through his vinyls.

After a couple minutes of searching, he let out a noise of triumph from the base of his throat and held up a dusted record. He replaced Bessie Smith and patiently waited for the music to begin.

A soft piano filled the room, one that she recognized, but was distracted by Harry’s hands touching the peaks of her shoulders, rubbing the pads of his fingers on the soft skin. He muttered something about the music being perfectly aligned with the girl: gentle and relaxing. She’d blushed furiously.

Sprawled on the bed, Harry at her neck, she lifted her hips to earnestly touch his, rolling against the hardened bulge, eliciting a throaty groan from the the man. He invaded her senses, as well as he body, pressed her down onto the mattress, a hand on her hip to avoid her from running away from him.

His shirt was the first to leave as she disrobed him, throwing it somewhere on top of the black vinyls, along with her dress, eyes widening at the ink that littered his body. She traced a cursive letter just below his collarbones as he worked on providing her with delicious bruises on her skin. He momentarily lifted his head and whispered, “Gemma. ‘M sister’s name.”

He licked a stripe from her jaw to the base of her ear, a low moan falling from her lips when he bit down on her earlobe.

There had been other men who excited her so, but none treated her like this. Harry’s mouth was attacking her precious skin, yet his hands were rubbing the exposed skin of her back soothingly to assure her all was well. His swollen lips pressed once more, heavily, against the girl’s before shifting on his knees. His nimble fingers undid his belt quickly, tossing it on the floor, ready to pounce on the girl again until he head the sickening crack of a beloved vinyl.

“Harry!” she exclaimed, watching his horror filled expression. He struggled with deciding which was more important, the girl or the record he paid graciously for.

He rolled his hips against hers, puckering his lips, pressing wet, spongy kisses down her breasts, fingering the material of her baby blue panties. They were cute, he concluded, they were really cute and she was the cutest. Her bra was unclasped, his palms touching every inch of her chest, kissing and loving.

“Yeh taste so heav’nly,” he breathed in between her shallow moans of pleasure, taking one nipple in his mouth, sucking softly.

Fuck!” she cursed, knitting her fingers into his hair, tugging harshly at the roots.

“Yeh like tha’?” he smirked, repeated the process to her other side. Unable to speak beneath the white pleasure he was providing her, she weakly nodded and leaned down for one more kiss. He complied, dragging her lower lip with his teeth, another moan rolling off her tongue.

The piano in the background had died off, and a new piece started, a slower ballad one, with more violins than the previous. As soon as the girl recovered, she laughed, “Debussy really gets me.”

“No,” he growled, obviously jealous. “I do. I did tha’ to yeh.”

“Right but Debussy still gets me.”

He rolled his eyes and latched his fingers onto her panties before halting. He looked at her with intense eyes, not from lust, but with fascination and gasped. “Yeh know him?”

Again, she nodded, perplexed by his interest in the music rather than the task at hand. “My favorite growing up.”

Harry’s face lit up. “Same ‘ere!”

The matter of music intrigued him more. Harry’s dominant aura broke apart as he scratched his shoulder thoughtfully and watched her carefully with narrowed eyes. She waited impatiently for him to touch her burning skin again, preferably her hips but the contact never came. Instead, Harry’s mouth opened to speak lovingly about the composer.

Strangely enough, he began toying with her hair, twisting the ends, running his hand through the roots. “Who else do yeh listen t’?”

The girl stared up at him incredulously. “What?”

He smiled innocently, shrugging. “Wanna know mo’ about who yeh listen t’.”

“But we’re making love!” she cried, sitting up. Harry’s eyes darkened once more as realization washes over his features. He waved a hand in the air dismissively, scrunching his nose as he crossed his legs in front of her, eagerly drumming his fingertips against his clothed knee.

“But I wanna know. We’ll do tha’ afterwards,” he said as if there were nothing wrong with it.

The girl just watched him in disbelief as he took it upon himself to list the composers and artists he found peace in and adored them to his heart’s content. He mentioned some artists that she knew and others she’d never heard of. At one point, he’d even gotten up to change the sides of the disc on the phonograph before sitting back in front of her. His eyes never left her shocked face but he paid no attention to either. Instead, he rambling on and on about music and not her.

He talked excitedly about jazz and his adventures involving jazz that had shaped his life. The girl eventually found his discarded shirt on the floor and buttoned it up, concealing herself from him.

Finally, she lunged forward and grabbing his hands roughly, bursting into a cry. “Is it me?”

Harry blinked unknowingly. His eyes softened at the girl’s watery features, her walls threatening to break. “Wha’?”

“You’re not sleeping with me!”

“I said afterwards, didn’ I?”

“I didn’t come here just to hear you talking about…about—”

His warm hands pressed to her face gingerly, shaking his head as she continued to blubber her words, one tear falling down her cheeks.

“Fuck, ‘m sorry. I didn’ mean to—”

“Do you not want me? I can leave if you want, Harry,” she sniffled, self loathe and insecurity returning. She should have known. She should have known she wasn’t his type. She should have known.

“I do want yeh!” Harry suddenly chuckled, dropping a heavy kiss to her mouth. “Brought yeh here, didn’ I?”

She nodded, but still looked skeptical. “So why aren’t we? I know I’m not very interesting…”

Harry continued laughing heartily, which irked the girl. He looked absolutely breathtaking laughing with immense vigor, she wanted to press her tongue against his dimples, but it annoyed her how much he didn’t care about her feelings.

“Why are you laughing?” she demanded, wiping her tears on his shirt’s sleeve. “It’s not funny!”

“It is though!” he grinned, pinching her cheeks. “Yeh’re so fuckin’ beautiful and ‘m happy about all this. I really am, kitten, the cutest girl I’ve ev’r met.”

“Then why are you—” she protested but Harry didn’t let her continue.

The green eyed man just continued. “Fo’ once, a girl has brilliant taste ‘n music an’ attracted to me! That never ‘appens. I’m jus’ thankful for it.”

The girl had reached a verdict. The man was insane.

She huffed stubbornly and sat up straighter. Her annoyance had reached a peak and she had enough of his childish games. So instead of convincing him with her mouth, she slowly slid a hand down to where her panties rested snugly on her hips, and snapped the band experimentally. Harry looked pained from where he sat across the bed on his knees, and the girl paid no mind as she slipped her hand beneath her panties, letting out the smallest breathy moan.

“Pet,” Harry said in a strangled voice. “Why are yeh doin’ this?”

Her middle finger rubbed her clit in a circular motion, wetness drenching her small panties even more. Her head was carelessly thrown back as she concentrated on showing the man that she in fact did not need him to receive pleasure. “Can’t wait. All you’ve talked about for the past fifteen minutes is jazz and I think I deserve some attention too.”

“Of course yeh do,” Harry groaned, a strand of hair falling into his eyes as he shuffled closer to the girl, touching her smooth legs gently. He grasped her wrist and slowly pulled her hand away from her own personal torture. Her digits were slick with her wetness; Harry drew them closer before engulfing his mouth over them, lapping and sucking her juices while she watched him with a stunned expression. He groaned, “So fuckin’ good ‘ere too. Can I get a taste, baby, just one taste.”

He pried her legs apart, grabbing her ankles and gliding her down the bed, the buttoned shirt she adorned leaving her stomach on display as Harry dragged her panties down.

“Daddy jus’ wants a taste of his kitten,” he mumbled against the soft skin of her thigh where he promptly left butterfly kisses. Her hands had returned to their rightful throne in his hair, messy locks and fingers.

“Yes,” she implored. “Kitten wants… daddy, taste please.”

Her mouth went slack as Harry hummed approvingly and pressed his tongue flat against her center, nose bumping accidently against her clit. His tongue retreated back into his mouth; eyes nearly rolling at the sweetness that she left on him, not hesitant to dive back into the haven. Although he didn’t need to, Harry licked his lips, gathered some spit, and dipped the tip of his tongue between her slick slit, eagerly lapping her up, occasionally biting the sensitive skin above her pleasuring muscle. She mewled and tugged on his hair so roughly, he believed he had lost a couple strands of his precious locks. Usually, he forbid the girls he slept with from touching his hair, but this girl was different. The pain made him excited.

Harry pulled his head up and grinned at her, lips still shiny from her juices. “Is daddy doin’ alrigh’ down ‘ere?”

The girl’s eyes had fallen shut, too engrossed by the tortuous mouth that belonged to Harry, but she managed to weakly nod back, lifting her hips readily. Harry licked around his mouth to emphasize how much he loved her taste.

“Yeh teased daddy, and he didn’t really like it,” Harry continued, using his free hand that wasn’t holding her hips down to trace her entrance. She gasped when he slid one finger into her warmth, groaning himself at the feel of her tight walls. “Daddy’s gonna punish you fo’ being so fuckin’ greedy.”

“Sorry, daddy!” she exclaimed as her body trembled with waves of pleasure.

“Sorry’s not gonna do it this time.”

Harry’s voice had gotten deeper as the strain in his pants grew more painful, arousal finally catching up to him. To think he would waste away this night talking about some artist he could only faintly recall now!

His hand lightly came down on the inside of her thigh as he continued to pump his longest finger in and out of her, causing a heavy groan to fall from her lips. Grinning at the perfect response, he smacked the skin harder, watching in fascination as his palm’s outline looked up at him mockingly. He assumed it hurt, he had gone so far with a woman, but the pretty girl’s head only rolled to the side, hips desperately lifting again, asking for more. He could only imagine what her tightness felt around his cock…

“Fuck tha’!” he groaned, leaning over to his side table to grab a rubber. She paid no attention to him as her eyes had scrunched closed again, moaning softly every so often. “Help me, please kitten.”

Y/N’s eyes immediately fluttered open and using the strength she had once Harry slipped out of her and she shoved her sweaty hair back. Once on her knees, she watched him discard him absurdly black dress pants and boxer briefs. If her mouth wasn’t watering already, it definitely was now. The thought of blurting out her initial motif was embarrassing, but she had to mention it to him. It wasn’t everyday someone hooked up with a man with a beautiful cock. “So pretty,” she gulped. “So thick and pretty.”

Harry swallowed a moan at her words. She lifted a hand to wrap around the base but he was quick to slap it away, sending her a warning look. “Not today.”

She nodded half heartedly before taking the condom from him, opening it with her teeth. She rolled it into his tip, along with his shudder, and rolled it down effectively down his length. Grinning with triumph, she laid back down and splayed her hair around her, holding her arms out for him.

Harry leaned down and bent his neck to feverishly kiss the girl’s reddened mouth, parting her lips easily with his warm tongue, while also rubbing the head of his dick against her clit. The final plead and whimper of “please daddy” that escaped her lips was the broken barrier between the two people. No longer were they strangers, whines falling from both their lips as Harry pushed in slowly, easily sinking into her.

“Fuck!” he exclaimed, bunching the sheets in his fists besides her head, closing his eyes tightly. “So tight, kitten. So fuckin’—”

He was cut off by a sharp cry from beneath him, full of pleasure. She wrapped her legs around him and eagerly begged him for more.

“Yeh jus’ took me so well. Love, you’re so fuckin’ good to me!” he praised as fed her miniature thrusts, dipping his head down to linger in the middle of her chest, mouth hovering over her breasts. She mewled and opened up for him again, mouth slack, eyes clearly showing just how fucked out she already was.

Once he was incapable of restraining himself, he pleadingly asked permission softly from the girl who nodded honestly, tugging on his messy curls deliciously as she if had been taught to by someone. He began to feed her harsher thrusts, heavily breathing.

“Feel so good Harry!” she cried, clawing at his chest every few seconds before sliding them back into his hair. “So so good!”

“Tell me,” Harry demanded, the sounds of their bodies meeting together now audible. “Tell me how good I feel.”

Blinded by the pleasure, Y/N muffled her screams by biting in her palm, something Harry forced her to give up after the first time she’d done it. Instead of scolding her, he simply grasped her wrists and held them above her head. “Tell me, kitten. Tell me how good daddy’s fuckin’ yeh.”

“So big! Stretching me so much, biggest I’ve ever taken daddy, gonna make me cum so quickly.” The end of her statement turned into a hearty whimper.

For a moment, while the two gazed at each other in the eyes, they wondered if they were in love, but the thought was absurd, yet the pleasure so satisfying, that must have been it.

“Yeh’re gonna cum befo’ I do, go’ it? ‘S your reward for bein’ so good for me tonigh’.”

A high pitched yell came from the girl who lifted her body and pressed her head into the crook of Harry’s neck, whimpering against the sweaty skin. His hand released her from the incarcerating hold and wrapped around her back instead, relishing in the feeling of her breasts against his chest.

“Fuckin’ me s-so good,” she cried, body quivering. “Gonna cum, gonna cum, gonna cum, Harry!”

Waves of pleasure brushed over her entire body as her back arched, a never before noise filling every inch of the room: a squeal and a scream mixed deliciously together which made Harry eventually lose his strong hold on himself, allowing release to wash over his tired limbs as well. The girl had shut her eyes for a final time, squeezing the base of his neck and instigated his release by meeting his hips every time he pounded into her. “So fuckin’ good,” she sniffled against him.

Harry didn’t want to let the girl down from his grip, only for her safety as she would be crushed under his weight. So he discreetly pulled out of her, and held her tightly in his arms until her breathing had return to a somewhat normal pulse.

“That was good daddy,” she whispered hoarsely, when Harry tilted his head to press a small kiss to her sweaty forehead, rubbing her hands across his chest, sinking her nails into his muscular form. “Worth the wait.”

Harry then laughed and unwound arms around her, letting her upper half torso hit the comfort of the sheets. With a scrunched nose, he pulled off the condom with a wet smack, tied it, and threw it into the direction of his waste. He sincerely hoped it fell in. “Yeh’re very welcome,” he grinned down at her, glancing around for his clothes. His boxers were laid neatly next to him which he hastily slid up his legs, watching the girl do the same with her panties. While he searched for the remainder of his tossed clothes, the girl observed his disheveled state, still so enthralling. She wanted to continue kissing and loving on him.

“Can’t seem to find m’shirt…” he spoke in a deep voice, but trailed off when his eyes caught onto the white button up she was still wearing. He smirked. “‘M gonna need m’top back.”

Y/N held the hem of the shirt up innocently. “This old thing? But I won’t have anything to wear. It’s too cold for a dress now.”

Harry arched an eyebrow, delighted that there was no awkwardness between him and his girl, unlike the multiple other girls. There was a definite chance, from the look on her cherubic face, to her beautiful mind that Harry had indeed fallen in love with the girl in one night. He sighed, traces of her still there on his tongue, and connected their lips effectively together, murmuring against her sinful mouth: “I’ll let yeh keep my shirt...if yeh tell me yeh fav’rite artists.”

Dad!Peter HCs *requested*

Warnings: Um…pregnancy (obvi), swear words, crying


-Alright just warning you I’m gonna get pretty emo over this

- I know this sounds cliché, but it would be unplanned

- I mean you both knew you wanted kids at some point but not, like…now

- You’re not actually the first to know you’re pregnant

-Charles is

-Because, of course he is

- He could hear that tiny little heartbeat from a mile away

- He didn’t really know how to tell you

-Should he just let you figure it out?

-But then, one day you trailed behind after class to help clean up and it’s just you and him and he’s like

-”I have to tell her, don’t I?”

- and his morals are like


- You honestly don’t believe him until he lets you hear the heartbeat

-but then you know it has to be true

-and all of a sudden, a thousand different thoughts are running through your head and there are tears burning in the cornors of your eyes

-Charles can see the panic in your expression and he tries to console you

-He takes your hand in his and rubs his thumb over it, trying to get you to calm down

-”Sweetheart, there’s no need to be afraid.”

-you just shake your head and back away


-He calls after you, but you grab your bag and run off before he can even reach the door

-It felt like all you knew how to do was panic

-you didn’t know where else to go so you went to the drugstore and got a test

-the lady at the cash register probably thought you were crazy because there you were trembling and trying not to cry as you searched for your card to pay for four different pregnancy tests

-you finally got home and took the tests and of course they were positive 

-now you didn’t have a single excuse left to fall back on

-You just sat and cried for a while

-How on earth would you tell Peter???

-You couldn’t do that to him

-What if he just stayed because he felt bad? 

-you went to your bathroom and washed your face and looked in the mirror, trying to convince yourself that everything would be alright

-you thought you had managed to calm down but the minute he got home you were like shit sHit SHIT

-He knew something was wrong even though you were trying your best to keep your cool

-He’d see you and his eyebrows would furrow together with concern 

-“What’s wrong?”


-”Bullshit, you’ve been crying.”

- You pause for a second and he’s so fucking worried

-you can’t look him in the eye

- “Hey Peter?”


-”You know you don’t have to stay with me right?” 

-His heart sank so damn far into his stomach

-”Why on earth would you say that?”

-”It’s just…If it would make you happy to leave me then that’s what I want you to do it. I would never hold it against you…” 

-He’s just so incredibly boggled by that

-It takes him a minute just to process it

-He goes to cradle your face in his hands and you try to pull away but he won’t let you

-”Look at me…no, I need you to look at me.”

-You know if you do look at him it’ll break you 

-”I love you. I love you so damn much, Y/N” 

-His voice is so broken and weak and terrified

-and he’s got tears forming in his eyes 

-and it breaks your fucking heart

-your whole body just crumbles and he holds you so tightly and you both just stay there for a long time

-”I was in the library today cleaning up after class. Charles came up to me-”

-”He did this?”

-”No, Pete…He told me….He said…”

-You were trembling again

-He run his thumb over your cheekbone, brushing a tear off your cheek

-you caught his hand and held it to your face

-Guys, he’s so fucking worried

-”I’m gonna have a baby, Pete.” 

-He’s silent for a minute and you think he’s going to hate you.

-“you what?” 

-His voice is barley above a whisper

-”I took four tests. They were all positive. Charles…He let me hear the heartbeat.”

-There was another long silence

-“You don’t have to stay. I understand.” 

-He ignores you

-He wants to say something so badly but he can’t find the words

-Finally, he just looks up at you and says

-”I’m gonna be a Dad?”

-and this utterly amazed, hopeful, beautiful grin splits across his face

-a tear trails down his cheek and you mirror his grin and then you’re hugging and he’s kissing you and you can almost feel your heart being completley consumed by that boy

- his hands are on your hips and he kneels down and pushed your sweatshirt up to kiss your stomach 

- he rests his forehead against it aww

-and he just can’t stop saying “Oh my god. OH My GOD….oh my god.”

-you’re laughing through your tears 

-he kisses you again and it’s so real and sweet and blissful

-Eventually, he breaks the kiss and he’s like

-”Wait, you said Charles let you hear the heartbeat?”

-and when you nod his face lights up so bright

-God, you’d give him your whole world if you could


-you both go to find Charles and he’s a little surprised to see you

-but he lets Peter hear the heartbeat and he’s a  M E S S

-He decided it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard


(Does anyone want a part two because I sure wanna write one yahooo) 

Did I hear someone say 'Big Daddy Mags'?

Erik is late. Even with his powers, meandering through Friday night traffic is a nightmare. He couldn’t have helped it though. Wanda had wanted her braid redone and Peter had been adamant on finding his silver jacket. At least they look docile now, sprawled on the back seat of the car- Wanda clutching her teddy bear to her chest and Peter ogling at his new goggles. He can only pray that they don’t start a fuss.

Erik thinks that this all too early. But Charles had insisted that he wanted to meet the kids. What was the hurry? They had known each other for only three months and been only on a couple of dates. He had not voiced any of his concerns at the time. But now, he’s sure that this is a very bad idea. He really likes Charles. Genius, smart, kind, mutant and gorgeous Charles. And his kids have a tendency of scaring away his potential partners. The last time it had happened, Emma had ran away like she’d seen wildfire.

It’s not that his children are monsters. No. Never that. But sometimes, they are unruly and unpredictable with strangers. Especially Peter. They had talked about it and the children had promised to be on their best behaviour for the entirety of the night.

Finding it difficult to shake off his building nerves, Erik pulls his shields up and decides to keep it that way for the rest of the night; lest he scares away Charles with his feelings instead of his children.

Introductions go swimmingly well. His five year olds seem timid at first but quickly warm up to Charles. A waiter takes their order of soup. When Charles enquires them about their mutations, Peter dashes off around their corner of the restaurant in quick laps and Wanda levitates her teddy bear a few feat up in the air, red sparks flying with it. Erik can’t help the proud smile that threatens to split his face every time the children display their powers. Charles- who is now wedged between Wanda and Peter on the other side of their round table- seems equally enthralled by the little show, laughing and commending them on their control.

A few minutes after soup is served, Wanda turns towards Charles and says innocently, ‘I like your mind. It’s warm. I didn’t like Ms. Frost’s. I was sharp and cold.’

‘Well, thank you sweetheart. I like your mind too,’ Charles replies with a genuine smile.

With his shields still intact, Erik reaches out to Charles telepathically. I’m sorry. She still doesn’t have control over her telepathy.

Charles looks up at him and smiles. It’s fine Erik. She’s just curious. No harm done.

Wanda senses the exchange between the two and continues, ‘I love my Daddy’s mind too. It’s my favourite minds after Nana’s.’

Erik should be disappointed that his daughter would pick his Mother’s mind over his, but he’s not. Probably he would do the same.

Charles laughs warmly and says, 'I like your Daddy’s mind too.’

Erik gets too busy arranging his square cloth on his lap to hide the flush on his face.

That is when his treacherous son opens his treacherous mouth.

'You’re very good looking,’ Peter starts. 'Is that why my Daddy loves you?’

Erik chokes around the first sip of soup. It’s bloody fucking hot. His tongue might have burnt for good. He hears Charles stuttering across him but he doesn’t lift his head from where he has bent down to sip on the soup.

'Does he now? I didn’t know that,’ Charles says recovering. His voice still catches on 'know’.

'Yes, yes! he does,’ Wanda says, motivated by Peter’s brevity. ‘He even keeps looking at your photo on his phone.’

Dammit. Telepath. Wanda’s use of her telepathy so erratic that Erik has to remind himself to keep his thoughts behind shields.

Suddenly, the constituents of his soup become very important to Erik. There’s coriander… pepper. There’s salt. Definitely salt.

He catches Peter’s voice again. 'Mr. Charles, did you know that my Daddy can control metal? Even big ones?’

'Yes dear, I do. Your Daddy has a very unique mutation.’ Charles says. There’s a hint of a smile in his voice.

‘He had dressed as Magneto- the metal bender of our birthday,’ Peter continues, not wiser of his father’s mortification. 'Our friends loved it very much.’

Wanda adds cheerfully, 'Daddy danced with me on Ballet class Annual day. He even wore a pink cape.’

Erik lifts his head up on instinct and corrects, 'It was Maroon Wanda.’

It's​ a mistake. He catches Charles’ eye. It’s bright with a undecipherable emotion in it.

Erik ducks his head again, concentrating on adjusting the cloth on his lap.

'Remy and Kitty love Daddy’s Magneto very much,’ Peter says. He’s never this talkative with strangers. ‘They call him Daddy Mags!’

This time, Erik coughs around his mouthful of water. Droplets of water go flying across the table. He quickly recovers and apologises, dabbing down his shirt and then the table.

Wanda continues, ignoring his presence, ‘Even the Mommies in my Ballet class love my Daddy a lot.’

This was new information to Erik; but at this moment, he doesn’t know if he should be proud or alarmed.

When Erik looks up again, Charles is looking at him with the same expression in his eyes. There’s even a smile on his face. But a smile could mean anything- from a friendly greeting to passive derision. Hell, he knows it by personal experience. He uses his to scare away people.

Erik wants to reprimand the children and tell them to start on their dinner. But they carry on relentlessly, Daddy this… Daddy that… Charles’ responses encourage​ them even more. His children never spoke like this to strangers. Erik doesn’t know what’s gotten into them.

He wishes he could hear Charles’ thoughts now. It’s unnerving to not know what Charles is thinking. Whether he wants to run away like Emma or not. He wouldn’t blame Charles if he wants to distance himself.

He sighs, gazing into his now cold soup.

Erik is startled by a hand on his arm. Charles is on his side, sliding into the chair next to him. The twins have vanished to admire at fishes on the other side of the restaurant.

'Don’t be so embarrassed Erik,’ Charles tells him smiling. 'They were only telling me things they love about you, hoping that it will get me to love you.’

And is it working? Erik has the mad urge to ask.

Charles scoots closer to him, ducks his head, tracing a fingertip from his wrist to forearm, says in a sultry voice: 'Too bad. They didn’t have to take the trouble.’ He looks up at Erik through lowered lashes. ‘Because, I already love you… Daddy.’

Everything that happens after is a complete blur. The bowls of soup fall over both Charles and him. Erik supposes that it has something to do with his hands falling limp on the table on hearing Charles’ words. The commotion pulls the children’s attention. Peter zooms past them causing several glass plates to shatter in his wake. Wanda’s teddy bear goes missing in the confusion. It takes them forever to find Mr. Bear and soothe a crying Wanda. By the time they pay for the damages and reach home, it’s way past the twins’ bedtime. Charles volunteers to help clean the children and put them to bed. It’s way past midnight when they sleep themselves. But in the morning, when Charles plods into the kitchen in nothing but his cape draped around his body, Erik realises that the previous night was worth enduring. Completely worth. Over and again.

Ya. I got carried away with this one. Couldn’t help myself. Sorry. And I had to repost this because Tumblr stopped working!

Knocked for Six - Peter Maximoff Imagine

A/N: I swear I meant to finish and post this months ago but I didn’t and I’m sorry :’( I’m really bad at scheduling.

Original Ask: I’m not sure if you’re taking requests for fics/multi-parts, but could you do one for Peter x Reader where the reader is a mutant that got taken to Xavier’s School, and they and Peter don’t really like each other at first. But then, they begin to warm up to each other/become friends, etc., and Alex starts to flirt with the reader which makes Peter jealous… And maybe it can go from there? 😁✨

Word Count:1,558

Tagging: @quicksilverbells this ones for you ;) @notsofastmaximoff @crysxtal @cantcountfandoms @grynaszeme

You arrived at the mansion in the middle of a long hot summer, Hank had picked you up and driven you there after you discovered your powers whilst crossing the road and accidentally caused small  accident. As you stepped through the doors of the mansion, you had only just been greeted by the professor before you spotted a blurred twitch in the corner of your eye and without a second thought threw up a force field to protect yourself. Unknown to you, that blur was none other than Peter Maximoff; another student at the mansion, who was now lying on the floor wondering what the hell had just happened. Brushing himself off as he got up from the floor Peter huffed as he looked up to meet your gaze.

“Ah Peter, this is our new student, Y/N. Y/N, this is Peter Maximoff” Charles said cheerily, as though Peter hadn’t just been knocked for six.

“I..I am so sorry, it was an accident I swear” you began to shake a little as you’d just injured another person.

“WHAT THE HELL!” Peter griped “What’d you do that for, I was just walking by?!”

“Walking by?” you scoffed “You came speeding past like lightening and you call that walking by?”

“Peter!” Charles warned before either of you could continue. Peter just grumbled out a mocking reply and whizzed off again. “I’m sorry about that, Peter isn’t usually like that”

“No, it’s fine, it was my fault but he didn’t have to be such an arse about it!” Charles chuckled and turned to leave the room, you following close behind as he continued to talk you through the mansion.

After the tour Charles left you to go and teach a class, leaving you free to wander the grounds and explore. You still felt bad about what happened to Peter earlier but at the same time you couldn’t understand why he would be such an arse about it, even after you apologised! As you made your way along the lakes edge you flipped the occasional rock into the waters and thought about how you’d find settling in here; Just then Peter came whizzing up to you.

Looking like he was holding his breath, he stared at you for a few seconds before finally breathing out

“Look I’m really sorry about earlier, it just surprised me, no-one’s ever been able to knock me out before when I’ve been running. HELL!  No-one’s ever even seen me when I was running!”

“That’s fine” you squeaked, trying not to sound shocked as you hadn’t actually seen him approach you that time.

“Ok, then we’re good ?” Peter questioned

“Yeah” you said smiling up at him

It had been several months since that first encounter and honestly you’d never felt more at home. The other students were all great and you couldn’t help your fascination with all their different powers. Even Peter was your friend and you never thought that would happen after your first introduction. Today you were training on the green with Alex; he was flinging his energy rings at you and you were blocking them, and trying not to deflect them in the direction of the school (it was one time ok!) .  You and Alex had always gotten along, the similarity in the way your powers developed from you prompting Charles to make him your mentor. With his mentoring you came you spending a lot more time with Alex. You were good friends, always joking about and messing with each other and so what if you looked the other way to a little harmless flirting, it wasn’t like you were seeing anyone.

As you both took a break from your sparring to stretch out you couldn’t help but notice as Alex flexed and stretched his arms, seeing how they bulged from the cut off sleeves of his top.

“See something you like sweetheart?” Alex laughed. Dammit he’d caught you staring!  As he swaggered over to you you stood your full height and faced him. “cos’ you know there’s always something you can do about it if you do” he whispered to you as he stood only a few centimetres away from you.

“Well it’s a good job I don’t then isn’t it” you whispered back, giggling a little as you lean in closer trying to match his intimidating stance.  Just then Alex fell sideways.

“What the hell was that?!” Alex shouted as he jumped back up to look around and what had just hit him.

“Um … must have been a gust of wind or something?” you covered up. You knew it had been Peter, you could see the silver of his jacket as he zoomed off, you just didn’t know why he had knocked Alex over.  Helping Alex brush himself down you carried on your training session until it was time to wash up before dinner.

All through dinner you could feel someone’s gaze on you in the hall, looking around you caught Peter before he whipped his head down to stare at his food. Truth be told you hadn’t been able to think of anything other than him since the incident on the lawns that afternoon, you knew you had to speak to him and ask what was wrong, his returning stare only confirming your plan.

“Peter!!” you called as you ran down the hall to catch him. Much to your surprise he stopped dead in his tracks when he turned and saw you rather than running away as you had much suspected. “I need to speak to you, are you alright? You’ve been acting a little distant lately” you probed not wanting to call him weird and have him scarper.

“I’m fine” Peter quipped “Why do you ask?”

“Peter I know it was you who knocked Alex down today when we were training” you continued as you walked together down the corridor “Why did you knock him over? Did you do it on purpose, and if you didn’t why didn’t you stop to at least apologise? Even at that speed you know when you’ve hit someone.”  You gushed getting more and more upset at what could be bothering him as you carried on; completely un aware that Peter’s full attention was on you, watching the way your lips moved and your expressions changed as you rambled on. “Peter? Peter, are you even listening to me?”

“What? … Yes, I was! I, Um, really needed to pee and I didn’t have time to stop, sorry” he got out, chuckling slightly and rubbing his neck as it reddened. You stopped in your tracks, also having reached your dorm.

“That’s a shit excuse Peter and you know it, what’s happened? You can tell me” your voice softened and you gestured for him to follow you into your room. Luckily everyone else must have been in the lounge watching TV so you had the room to yourself.

“You’re really not going to want to hear what I have to say Y/N” Peter sighed as he took a seat next to you on the end of your bed. “You’re going to hate me, and freak out and you definitely won’t talk to me again and I don’t want that to happen Y/N, I like being around you” Peter finished with a sigh as he looked at you, chuckling to himself as though he’d just heard the most ironic thing in the world.

“Peter please just tell me, I won’t hate you I’m worried about you. Did Alex do something to you? Because I’m honestly not that close to him I won’t be offended if you wanna smack talk him a little” you giggled trying to lighten the mood.

“Not that close to him?” Peter turned to snap at you “You seemed pretty close to him this afternoon, in fact you seemed to be getting closer every time I looked at you!”

“What the hell! Why are you angry all of a sudden, you’re the one who pushed Alex to the ground he wasn’t even doing anything to you!”  You were getting riled up at Peter’s slightly pissy behaviour now, standing to face him; almost sizing yourself up to him.

“I’m angry because you love him and you’re never going to look at me the way you do him!” Peter shouted. His face dropping when he realised the depth of his words and the shocked look on your face. “I love you, I’m in love with you … Y/N … I’ve been in love with you since that first day you came. And it hurts so much to see you with Alex, you’re so close and he’ constantly flirting with you and touching you and” before Peter could say another word you had taken the two steps towards him to close the gap between you and brought his face down to meet your own. You kissed him, passionately, like you were about to be torn apart forever; your lips moving in sync with each other as Peters hands came up to circle your waist, noses nudging each other’s slightly.

“Peter” you quietly drew a breath “I’m not with Alex, I never have been, he’s just my mentor” you locked eyes with him, still with your arms around his neck. Peter breathed out as he touched your forehead with his own.

“I’m an idiot aren’t I?”

Dating Alex Summers (Havok) would include:

⚡️ helping him with his PTSD

⚡️ him being way too overprotective of you

⚡️ making fun of Hank together

⚡️ he definitely get jealous very easily

⚡️ he says these horrible pick up lines to you even though you are already in a relationship

⚡️ you worrying about him being in the army and never wanting him to go back

⚡️ you met because of Charles

⚡️ you always send him letters and pictures of you and his family while he’s away on army business

⚡️ he is always the big spoon

⚡️ he never calls you by your actual name, it’s always a nickname like Doll or Sweetheart

⚡️ he’s a gentleman

⚡️making jokes about eachother

⚡️ waking up in his arms

I got bored so I did this hahah I hope it’s not too bad. Send in requests for anyone! 🥀🖤

Ps sorry it’s short 🥀🖤

“To put it bluntly.” He paused, clearing his throat. “Despite New York City giving off that big city, big dreams vibe that the world so unknowingly hopes they will find here. I don’t plan on sacrificing the last of any moral compass I may have left, all so I can get a job at your crappy magazine. You can stick your job offer.” He said, throwing his phone back into his pocket.

Charles turned around to see the entire bar staring at him. “What?” He said before returning to his seat and fiddling with his near empty glass of Bourbon.

Coming? | Erik Lehnsherr x Reader

Request: Can you please do an Erik Lehnsherr x Reader where the Reader is panicking because she is super behind on homework and also struggling with abuse at home and depression and Erik comforts her? I would also like it to be long, if you can. ;-; -Anon

A/N: I am sorry to disappoint the person who requested this but I didn’t feel comfortable writing the ‘abuse part’. MASTERLIST

Word Count: 805

Warnings: Stress, Depression

Tags: @whitefangedrose @onlyprincess15 @i-dropped-my-taco @thelonelyshe-wolf @winnie-the-ghoul @zuni21798 @harishaanne@xloudwhocares @spn-dean-sam-casspn @kotetsuhiro @swettylittlegirl @maggiemo195 @maddyevans16 @majestic-squad @sherlokid7 @doctorwhoandrory

You were locked up in your room, trying to find your way around the piles of papers that were scattered all over your room. You were panicking from all the work you had to do; two days weren’t enough to get all the work done. You grabbed a few papers in hand and your eyes scanned the small words printed in it.

You felt like throwing up, you were stressed. You had a lot on your mind; school was taking its toll on you. It was like someone threw you in a black hole and as you tried to claw your way out of it, you were sucked back in, deeper.

You didn’t talk to people about your problems and you rarely wrote in your diary. You felt like a complete mess. But there was a very old friend of yours, that although he was very different from you, he found ways to make you smile and help you out. Erik Lehnsherr.


There was a knock on the door. You let out a heavy sigh and dropped the papers that were in your hands back on the floor. You walked down the corridor and opened the door. “Erik.” You whispered. You hadn’t seen him in months. His eyes widened as he saw you; you had purple bags under your eyes from the fact that you barely slept to get all the work done and your hair was a mess. Your skin seemed that it lost its colour and your clothes were all wrinkled and had stains from the coffee you ingested for the last few months.

“Y/N.” Erik put his hands on either side of your arms, his eyes trying to get in contact with yours. “What happened?” You couldn’t speak as if someone was holding your tongue. Erik closed the door behind him and picked up gently bridal style, carrying you in your room. He stopped at the door frame as he saw a landfill of paper. “I’m going to put you on the couch, okay?” He whispered as he pressed you gently to his torso. 

You simply nodded. You had never been this close to Erik. You liked Erik and he liked you but he was afraid of using his powers when you’re around especially after what had happened to Charles. Another reason why Erik was scared was because he thought of himself a killer.

“Here you go sweetheart.” He said as he gently laid you down on the comfortable sofa. Erik took a blanket off the couch and covered you with it. “Rest.” He caressed your forehead with his thumb. You felt all fuzzy inside, a feeling that you’ve longed to feel, especially from Erik. I mean look at the guy, he’s hot.

Erik sat on the other side of the sofa, switching on the TV, watching a movie. You sneaked a peak at him, his blue eyes shining from the light coming from the TV and a smile playing around his lips when something funny happened. You quickly looked away when you saw Erik looking at you. The couch shifted towards you. Erik slid between you and the couch. Now, your head was resting on Erik’s chest, listening to his heart beating slowly. HIs strong arms wrapped around your body, pressing you closer to him as you both shared each other’s warmth.

“What’s been stressing you Y/N?” He asked, breaking the silence between the two of you.

“Homework, assignments…” You broke into tears. “I can’t do it all Erik. I barely get any sleep and I barely eat now.” Erik cradled you in his arms as you sobbed on his chest. “Shh…It’s okay Y/N. It’s okay.” Your tears stained Erik’s grey shirt.

After you calmed down from the tears, Erik spoke once more. “Why don’t you come with me? Charles can help you with the subjects. There are so many professors there.”

“But I’m not like you. I can’t control -” You looked up to Erik and instantly his lips crashed onto yours. It felt amazing; his hands roamed around your back, pulling you closer to him. It felt like a dream; his lips massaging yours. He slowly released, never breaking eye contact. “You are exactly like me Y/N. So what do you say? You’re coming?”

Originally posted by fassy-stuff

This is all the fault of Community’s episode “Debate”.

Erik used to be in a debate club, and he was good. Except of course for his tiny problem of not wanting to defend a side he didn’t agree with. Their loss really.

He still likes to watch though. Tonigh there’s a debate organized at his new college. The theme? Is mankind good or bad by nature.

And their college team is represented by Charles Xavier. Erik knows Charles. He is a naive it’s-always-sunshine always-smiling fool. Him having to defend that men are bad? This is going to be a massacre.

And a massacre it is. Just not how Erik expected it to go. Charles is intense, ruthless, never giving his opponent even the slightest chance of getting the upper hand. Erik may be in love.

anonymous asked:

*psst* leebury is Charles X Sam

Lee: I don’t see why you’re love Hamilton so much.

Laurens: That’s cause he is not a total jerk to me unlike someone I know!

Lee: I for me I my boyfriend and I are not like that being all cuddly and cute.

Seabury: *hugs Lee* Hi sweetheart!

Lee: *kisses Seabury on the cheek*

Laurens: …Really?