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Don't Listen To Them - Peter Maximoff

Peter x Fem!Reader

Warnings: bullying

Word count: 296

Summary: “H-how long have you been standing there?” - “You make me feel good enough.”

Masterlist

X-MEN Masterlist

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“Oh look, it's hot head.” A boy said coming up near where Y/n was admiring the nature at the mansion.

“Can you keep your temper under control or should the school be evacuated?” One of the girls in this group said. It was the same group that had been bullying her for a while.

“You gonna blow your top?” A different boy laughed.

“You should just leave.” The first boy added.

“Do us all a favor and blow yourself up.” Another girl scoffed glaring at Y/n.

After the bullies left when Y/n flashed her eyes red to scare them off, when she turned she saw Peter.

“H-How long have you been standing there?” Y/n stuttered.

“Long enough.” Peter said with a sad expression, he walked closer to her shaking his head. “Don’t listen to them.”

Y/n shrugged, looking down to her feet. “Hard not to. They do it every day.”

“Have you told anyone?” Peter asked, grabbing her hands in his.

“It’ll just make it worse.” Y/n shakes her head.

Peter sighed, he decided then and there he was going to do something about it.

“I think powers are extraordinary.” He told her putting his forehead against hers.

“I make explosions Peter. That’s not extraordinary that’s dangerous.” Y/n said with a defeated tone and expression.

“Y/n-”

“I’m a ticking time bomb.” Y/n cuts him off.

“Your a gorgeous, in control, ticking time bomb.” Peter smiled, getting her to laugh with his humor. “You're important to me and I believe you have one of the most important mutations of all.”

Y/n smiled looking up into his eyes. “You always make me feel good enough.”

Peter smiled back at her pulling her into a hug. “That's the goal.”

taglist: @padawancat97 @starkleila

Leaving - Pyro / John Allerdyce

John/Pyro x Fem!Reader

Warnings: none

Word count: 212

Summary: Pyro telling Y/n that he loves her before leaving to join the brotherhood.

Authors Note: Haven’t wrote X-MEN in awhile

Masterlist

X-MEN Masterlist

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“What are you doing?” Y/n asked as she walks into their shared room seeing him packing his duffle.

“Y/n-” John turned around not knowing what to say.

“You're leaving.” Y/n states when he doesn’t say anything, eyes not leaving his packed duffle.

“I’m sorry. But I have to go. I don’t belong here.” He tells her with tears welling up in his eyes.

“You're going to join Magento and his brotherhood, aren’t you?” Y/n looked at him with tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Yes.” John nodded.

“I’ll miss you.” Y/n’s voice broke as more tears rolled down her cheeks.

John rushed over to her and cupped her cheeks brushing her tears away with his thumbs. “I’ll miss you too. More than anything. But-”

“You can’t stay. I get it.” Y/n nodded as they embraced each other into a tight hug.

“We’ll see eachother again.” John promised as they parted from their hug.

“I hope so.” Y/n gave him a sad but hopeful smile.

“We will. I love you.” John placed one last kiss for now on her forehead before he grabbed his bag and left. Hoping when everything was over they’d see each other again. He’d protect her, even if they are on opposite sides.

Taglist: @padawancat97 @starkleila

Being Iceman’s boyfriend and having fire/heat powers would include…

Requested: Nope!

Warnings: Ever so slight mention of sex, little mention of homophobia, small kink mention (overall very very fluffy, I promise)

A/N: So I decided to start writing for X-Men characters and I was contemplating who to start with and I chose Bobby! Mainly because he’s absolutely adorable and I have a lot of nostalgia around Shawn Ashmore’s version! Also I really want to write soft mlm content with him, I don’t really see stuff for him in the X-Men writing fandom, let alone LGBT content so I wanna do my boy right! Got the X-Man with a boyfriend with contrasting powers idea from my buddy @darlingkitt ! Anyway I hope y’all enjoy, especially my fellow Bobby fans out there! :)) 

Tags: @darlingkitt @mossybank @tatestripedsweater @sojournmichael @xavierplympton​

If you want to be added to my tag list, don’t be afraid to ask me via my ask box or through messages! I’m more than happy to do so! :3

Keep reading

Kurt Wagner is the purest thing and i think a lot about how:

He physically cannot give anyone the middle finger becuase he literally doesnt have any middle fingers.

He's kinda(kinda) permanently signing 'i love you' in sign language becuase of his mutation.

— stay at home dad logan | headcanons

shut up don't talk to me im thinking about stay at home dad logan 😩

- logan being a stay at home dad to support your career feminist icon

- logan picking up the kid(s) from school, taking them out to get a little snack or do a fun after school activity before they stop by your office to pick you up

- logan cooking dinner for you and your family, proud little gleam in his eye whenever your eyes roll to the back of your head when you take a bite of a new recipe he learned

- logan taking care of household tasks and your family as a way to protect you

- he never thought he'd be the type to stay home and raise the kids, but he finds a certain masculine pride in making sure you two can relax when you're back from work

- he loves doing home improvement projects, and he's learned your taste in decor perfectly

- you have so many custom shelves and built-ins that fit your home perfectly

- your kid(s) are honestly a little confused about traditional gender roles when they encounter them for the first time at school

- "what do you mean your mom stays home???"

- you and logan teach them that they can do whatever they want, that staying home or having a kickass career or a mix of both, or not having kids at all- every one of these paths has value

- logan gets really invested when you tell him about office drama, though he'd always deny it. still, he nods along interested, occasional humming im agreement or asking a clarifying question, eyes never leaving you as you tell him what happened at work today

- and he definitely has strong opinions on the office drama you share with him. but of course he doesn't really care why simon really got let go oh yes he does

- logan teaches your kid(s) self defense, especially if you have a girl

- girl dad logan deserves its own post tbh

- and if your kid(s) are mutants? oh, he won't let them take shit from anybody. they grow up mutant and proud. they will never, ever deal with the self hatred logan does. they are so loved.

Apple of His Eye

Biker!Logan x Baker!Reader, please let me know if you like it and would want more parts!

Logan walked into the small bakery with his usual scowl, the early morning sun barely peeking over the horizon. The door jingled as he entered, the sound of it out of place in the quiet street. He didn’t bother to glance around; he knew the place by heart now. Instead, he made a beeline for the counter, his boots thudding heavily against the wooden floor.

He had been coming here every morning for months, always ordering the same thing—a steaming cup of black coffee and a slice of apple pie. It was a ritual, a brief moment of calm before he had to face the world outside again. The bakery was a stark contrast to his life—cozy, warm, and filled with the smell of fresh pastries.

And then there was you.

You were a vision in pastels and florals, the complete opposite of Logan in your soft colors and ever-present smile. While he wore his usual leather jacket and flannel, looking like he had just stepped out of a bar fight, you floated around the bakery in your light dresses, a ray of sunshine amidst the early morning gloom.

He had never expected to find comfort in such a place—or in such a person—but here he was, morning after morning. The thought of you, standing behind the counter with a smile, had become one of the few things he looked forward to.

“Good morning, Logan,” you greeted him with that bright smile of yours as he approached the counter. But something about your tone was different today—almost apologetic.

Logan’s eyes narrowed as he grunted in response, glancing at the display case. His usual slice of apple pie was conspicuously absent.

You noticed his gaze and bit your lip. “About the pie…I’m so sorry, Logan, but I had to stop making the apple pie you love. There just wasn’t enough demand, and I had to make room for other things.”

His frown deepened, disappointment flashing in his eyes. He didn’t say anything, but you could tell he was more than a little let down. It wasn’t just the pie—though he did love it—but the whole routine. It was something steady in his otherwise chaotic life, and now that was gone too.

“I figured you’d be upset,” you continued, a hint of nervousness in your voice. “So…I did something. It’s a little silly, but…” You ducked behind the counter and emerged with a small, white box tied with a ribbon. “I made this for you.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, taking the box from your hands. The weight of it, the warmth that radiated through the cardboard, was unmistakable. He opened it slowly, his usually rough hands surprisingly gentle as he revealed the contents.

Inside was a whole apple pie, golden and steaming as if it had just come out of the oven.

“It’s just for you,” you said quickly, almost shyly. “I’ll make one every morning if you want, and keep it here until you come in. It’s the least I can do after all the time you’ve spent coming here.”

Logan stared at the pie, then back at you, his usual scowl softening into something that looked almost like a smile—at least as close as Logan ever got to one. He nodded, a simple gesture that held more gratitude than he could put into words.

“Thanks,” he muttered, his voice gruff but sincere. He closed the box and set it aside, watching as you poured his coffee, the usual slice replaced by a whole pie that he knew would last him the day.

Just as you handed him his coffee, the bell above the door jingled again, and a group of men strolled in. Logan’s “brothers,” part of the biker gang he rode with. They were loud, rough around the edges, and completely out of place in your quaint little bakery.

“Morning, Logan!” one of them called out with a smirk, glancing at the box on the counter. “What’s that? Finally decided to sweeten up?”

Another laughed, nudging his friend. “Looks like Logan’s got himself a soft spot for the baker.”

Logan glared at them, his jaw clenching. “Shut it.”

But they were relentless, teasing him in the way that only old friends could. They pointed out the stark contrast between the two of you—Logan with his gruff demeanor and biker leathers, and you in your soft, floral dress, looking like you had stepped out of a fairy tale.

“Well, can’t say we blame him,” one of them chuckled, giving you an appreciative nod. “You’ve got good taste, Logan.”

Logan’s patience was wearing thin, but he knew better than to let their teasing get to him. He grabbed his coffee and the pie, shooting you a glance that was almost apologetic before turning back to his friends.

“Get your coffee and get out,” he growled at them. “Some of us have places to be.”

They laughed again, but they didn’t push it any further. They all ordered something quickly, and as they waited, you couldn’t help but notice the way Logan stayed close to the counter, his back to his friends as if shielding you from their teasing.

Finally, they were ready to leave, but not before one of them clapped Logan on the back, saying loud enough for everyone to hear, “Don’t let her get away, old man. You might not find another who bakes you a whole pie every day.”

Logan rolled his eyes, muttering a string of curses under his breath, but there was a hint of color in his cheeks as he grabbed the pie box and headed for the door.

Before he left, though, he paused. For a moment, he looked back at you, his expression unreadable. Then, with a rough sort of tenderness, he said, “I’ll see you tomorrow, same time.”

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through you that had nothing to do with the ovens. “I’ll have your pie ready.”

Logan nodded, his lips twitching into that almost-smile again before he turned and walked out, the door jingling behind him.

As he mounted his bike and started it up, the teasing continued, but Logan ignored them. His thoughts were back in the bakery, with the soft colors and the smell of sugar and cinnamon. It wasn’t just the pie that kept him coming back every morning—it was you.

And as he rode off with the pie in tow, he couldn’t help but think that maybe—just maybe—the softness of your world was exactly what he needed to balance out the rough edges of his own.

Apple of His Eye - Part 2

The morning sun had barely started to climb into the sky when you arrived at your bakery, a spring in your step as you prepared for another day of sweet treats and smiles. But the moment you turned the corner and saw the front of your shop, your heart dropped into your stomach.

The large front window of your bakery was shattered, glass littering the sidewalk and your display cases. The once inviting entrance now looked like a crime scene, and the beautiful pastries you’d worked so hard to perfect were now covered in a fine layer of glass dust. You stood there in shock, unable to move as the weight of it all came crashing down on you.

Who would do this? And why?

You sank to your knees, your hands trembling as you tried to piece together what had happened. Thoughts raced through your mind—how were you going to afford to fix this? Could you even open the bakery today? Your customers, your regulars, they all depended on you. And what about Logan? He’d come in expecting his pie, and now you couldn’t even offer him that.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you thought about the costs of repairing the window. You had already poured everything into this little bakery, scraping by to make it a success. The idea of paying for a new window was almost too much to bear.

As you sat there, lost in your despair, you didn’t notice Logan approaching. He had been on his way to the bakery, the promise of a fresh apple pie and your bright smile drawing him like it did every morning. But when he saw the broken window, his heart clenched with a mixture of anger and concern.

“Hey,” Logan’s rough voice broke through your haze, pulling you out of your thoughts. You looked up to see him standing there, his brow furrowed, his fists clenched at his sides.

“Logan,” you whispered, your voice shaky as you tried to blink back the tears. “I don’t know what to do…”

He didn’t say anything at first, his gaze sweeping over the shattered glass, the ruined pastries, the look of sheer devastation on your face. His jaw tightened, and you could see the anger simmering just beneath the surface.

“Who did this?” he growled, his voice low and dangerous.

“I-I don’t know,” you stammered, wiping at your eyes. “I just got here and… I can’t afford to fix it. I don’t know what I’m going to do…”

Logan’s expression softened at your words, the anger giving way to something else—something protective. He knelt beside you, reaching out to gently take your hand in his. “You’re not gonna deal with this alone,” he said firmly, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a rare show of tenderness. “I’ll take care of it.”

“But Logan—”

“No buts,” he cut you off, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You go home, get some rest. I’ll handle it.”

You looked into his eyes, seeing the steely resolve there, and despite your anxiety, you felt a small glimmer of hope. Logan had always been a force of nature—unmovable, unstoppable. If anyone could help, it was him.

Reluctantly, you nodded, allowing him to help you to your feet. “Thank you,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Logan just grunted, giving your hand a final squeeze before letting it go. “Go on,” he said, his gaze flickering back to the broken window. “I’ll take care of everything.”

You gave him one last grateful look before heading home, the weight of the morning’s events still pressing down on you, but with the faintest sense of relief. Logan was here, and somehow, you knew he’d find a way to make it right.

Later that evening, long after you had gone home, Logan sat at the bar with his “brothers,” the same crew that had teased him mercilessly about his feelings for you. But tonight, there was no joking around. They could tell by the look in Logan’s eyes that this was serious.

“Someone smashed up the bakery,” Logan growled, his voice low and dangerous. “I want it fixed by tomorrow morning.”

The bikers exchanged glances, each one of them nodding in understanding. They might have been a rough bunch, but they looked out for their own—and Logan, despite his gruff exterior, had made it clear that you were important to him.

“We’ll handle it,” one of the bikers said, cracking his knuckles. “We know a guy who can get the glass replaced tonight, no questions asked.”

Logan gave a curt nod. “Good. And find out who did it,” he added, his voice dropping to an even darker tone. “I want to have a word with them.”

The men nodded again, a ripple of agreement passing through the group. Logan didn’t need to say anything more. They knew what he meant, and they weren’t about to let anyone get away with hurting someone he cared about.

As the night went on, the bikers got to work. They called in a favor with a friend who specialized in emergency repairs, and within a few hours, the shattered window was replaced, the broken glass swept up, and the bakery was restored to its former glory. It was as if nothing had happened.

Meanwhile, Logan had been tracking down the culprit, following the trail of whispers and rumors that circulated in the darker corners of the city. It didn’t take long to find out who had done it—some local thug trying to extort protection money from small businesses in the area.

Logan found him in a back alley, and what followed was quick and brutal. By the time Logan was done, the thug was left bruised and bloody on the ground, a clear message delivered: No one messed with the people Logan cared about. Ever.

The next morning, you arrived at the bakery, dreading the sight of the shattered window. But when you turned the corner, your breath caught in your throat. The window was fixed. There was no glass on the ground, no sign of the damage that had been there the day before.

You stood there in shock, trying to process what you were seeing. How could this have been fixed so quickly? And by who?

Then, you noticed something else—a familiar scent wafting through the air. You hurried inside, your heart pounding, and saw a single apple pie sitting on the counter, still warm from the oven. Next to it was a small note, written in Logan’s unmistakable scrawl:

“Everything’s taken care of. See you soon.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you clutched the note to your chest. Logan had done this. He had made everything right, just as he had promised.

A few hours later, when Logan walked through the door, you didn’t say anything. Instead, you just smiled at him, the warmth in your gaze saying more than words ever could.

Logan gave you a small nod, his usual gruffness in place, but there was a softness in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. He took his coffee and his pie, the morning ritual restored, but as he turned to leave, you reached out and gently touched his arm.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice full of emotion.

Logan paused, looking down at you. For a moment, he seemed like he was going to say something, but then he just nodded again, a rare, almost shy smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Anytime,” he said simply, and with that, he walked out of the bakery, the door jingling behind him.

But as he rode off into the morning, the taste of your apple pie still fresh on his tongue, Logan couldn’t help but feel that maybe, just maybe, there was more to life than leather jackets and cold nights on the road. There was warmth here, in your bakery, in the way you looked at him, and he found himself wanting to protect it, no matter what.

Bruised Not Broken: Part Two

After reconnecting with Logan following a brutal fight, the reader decides to see him in action, not realizing the emotional and physical toll it will take.

The dim, smoky atmosphere of the underground fight club was a far cry from the usual clubs you visited. The roar of the crowd echoed off the concrete walls, a mix of adrenaline and aggression that hung thick in the air. You clutched the edges of your jacket, trying to blend in with the other spectators, but your heart was pounding for a different reason.

You were here for Logan.

After the last time you patched him up, you hadn’t been able to get him out of your mind. The raw vulnerability beneath his tough exterior, the way he’d looked at you like he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. It had haunted you ever since, pulling you into his orbit once again.

So when you heard about the next fight, you decided you had to see it for yourself. Maybe then you’d understand why he kept throwing himself into these brutal battles, why he sought pain like it was the only thing that made him feel alive.

The announcer’s voice cut through the noise, calling Logan’s name—his alias for these fights, anyway. The crowd erupted as he stepped into the ring, shirtless and already gleaming with sweat. His muscles rippled under the harsh lights, the scars that crisscrossed his body a testament to the countless battles he’d fought.

Your breath hitched as you watched him size up his opponent, a hulking brute who looked like he’d been carved from stone. Logan didn’t flinch, though. He never did. Instead, he cracked his knuckles, that familiar smirk playing on his lips.

The fight began in a blur of fists and blood. You’d seen Logan in action before, but this was different. There was no holding back, no calculated moves—just raw, unrelenting power. Every punch he threw seemed to carry the weight of all his anger and pain, and it was both mesmerizing and terrifying to watch.

But as the fight dragged on, you found yourself gripping the railing in front of you, your stomach twisting with each blow he took. You knew he could take the hits , knew he would come out of it physically intact, but it was the emotional toll that worried you. How much more of this could he take before he broke?

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the fight ended. Logan stood victorious, though bloodied and bruised, his chest heaving with the effort. The crowd roared its approval, but all you could see was the haunted look in his eyes as he staggered out of the ring.

Without thinking, you pushed your way through the crowd, following him as he disappeared into the back. You found him slumped against a wall in the locker room, wiping blood from his face with the back of his hand.

“Logan,” you called out softly.

He looked up, his expression unreadable for a moment before a flicker of recognition passed through his eyes. “What the hell are you doin’ here?” he asked, his voice rough.

“I had to see it for myself,” you admitted, stepping closer. “I wanted to understand why you do this to yourself.”

He snorted, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me,” you challenged, crossing your arms. “Because all I see is you getting hurt over and over again, and I don’t get why.”

Logan pushed himself off the wall, wincing as he did. “It’s the only thing that makes sense, alright? The only thing I know I’m good at.”

“You’re good at a lot more than this,” you countered, your heart aching for him. “You’re more than just a fighter, Logan.”

He shook his head, dismissing your words, but you could see the cracks in his armor. “You shouldn’t have come.”

“Too late for that,” you said, holding your ground. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

Surprisingly, he didn’t argue. Instead, he followed you out of the club, the tension between you crackling like electricity.

“You really shouldn’t care,” he muttered after a while, his voice low and gruff. “You’re better off without someone like me in your life.”

You reached across the table, your fingers brushing against his. “You don’t get to decide that for me, Logan.”

His hand twitched under yours, but he didn’t pull away. “I don’t wanna hurt you,” he said, his tone softer now, almost vulnerable.

“I’m not afraid of getting hurt,” you replied, your heart pounding in your chest. “I’m more afraid of losing you.”

Logan’s eyes met yours, and for a moment, it felt like the whole world had narrowed down to just the two of you. The air between you was thick with unspoken words, with the heat of something neither of you were willing to name.

Before you could second-guess yourself, you slid out of the booth, pulling him with you. “Come on,” you whispered, your voice trembling with anticipation.

He followed you without a word, his hand gripping yours like it was the only thing keeping him grounded. The walk back to your apartment was a blur, the tension between you growing with every step.

The moment you were inside, Logan’s lips crashed against yours, all the pent-up frustration and desire spilling over. You kissed him back with equal fervor, your hands tangling in his hair as you pressed yourself against him.

It was a tangle of lips and teeth, a desperate need to feel something, anything, that wasn’t pain or loneliness. Logan’s hands were everywhere, pulling you closer, as if he couldn’t get enough.

You stumbled backward into your bedroom, shedding clothes as you went. By the time you hit the bed, you were both bare, skin against skin, the heat between you almost unbearable.

Logan hovered over you, his breath ragged, his eyes dark with something that made your pulse race. “You sure about this?” he rasped, his voice rough with need.

“More than anything,” you whispered, pulling him down to you.

The night was a blur of heated touches and whispered names, of Logan’s hands on your body and the way he made you feel whole even as you lost yourself in him. He was rough and tender all at once, like he was afraid he’d break you but couldn’t help the way he needed you.

You lost track of time, of how many times he made you come undone, of how many times you whispered his name like a prayer. And when it was over, when you were both spent and tangled in the sheets, Logan pulled you close, his breath warm against your skin.

But even in the warmth of his embrace, you could feel the storm brewing inside him. You knew this wouldn’t last—that it couldn’t last. But for now, you were content to just be with him, to hold onto this moment for as long as you could.

When you woke up the next morning, the bed was cold beside you. You reached out, but your hand only met empty sheets. Your heart sank as you sat up, already knowing what you’d find.

Logan was gone.

There was no note, no sign that he’d been there at all, save for the lingering scent of him on the pillow beside you. You wrapped the sheet around yourself, feeling the ache in your chest, the hollow space where he’d been.

You shouldn’t have been surprised. You knew Logan had a habit of disappearing, of running from whatever it was that scared him. But it didn’t make it any easier.

You sat there for a long time, staring at the empty spot beside you, feeling the sting of his absence. But even as the tears threatened to spill over, you knew this wasn’t the end. Logan might have left, but he wouldn’t be able to stay away forever.

He’d be back, bruised and broken, just like always. And when he did, you’d be there, ready to help him pick up the pieces again.

Because no matter how many times he tried to push you away, you weren’t giving up on him.

JEAN GREY – packs

── 𝙄𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙪𝙨𝙚: 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚/𝙧𝙚𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙜

── don’t clame as your own.

©: @. caotichuman

(𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒅𝒊𝒕𝒔 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓)

Keen Eyes

Peter Maximoff X Mutant!Fem!Reader

Summary: Peter is in love with the reader who’s in love with Scott who’s in love with Jean. Scott and Jean are to loved up to see the damage they’re doing to Y/n but Peter can see it very clearly.

Warnings: Swearing nothing major but it’s there, angst, unrequited love, character deaths (2) although one isn’t really a death in this but it is in the movies if that makes any sense at all, Scott’s a bit of a jerk, Jean’s a bit of a bitch, self doubt and all the great problems it comes with. This isn’t proof read sorry :(

Set after X Men Apocalypse but before Dark Phoenix.

Enjoy

She stared at them, at first it was with anger at the girl but then it became a sadness that swept her away like a tsunami as if all the oceans in the world had suddenly towered over her and knocked her off her feet. The boy was whispering sweet nothings in the redheads ears as she giggled. Y/n was slightly glad she didn’t hear what they were saying probably some kind of loved up bullshit, it made her sick. She never thought she’d fall in love until she met Cyclops also known as Scott Summers but it was not to be as he’d fallen for his other fellow teammate Jean Grey.

Y/n couldn’t really blame him. If she was a guy she definitely would’ve picked Jean over her any day of the week. Jean was everything that Y/n wasn’t. She wasn’t as calm and collected as Jean nor was she as confident as Jean. She sighed angrily, wishing not for the first time, that she could have Raven’s powers so she could change into someone more beautiful. Jean Grey was beautiful. Y/n Y/l/n was not. It was as simple as that. She felt the tears start to form and quickly left the living room going to her room to wallow in her own self pity.

Peter Maximoff had been watching Y/n since she walked in. He knew of her crush on Scott and wondered how she’d take it. She’d taken it as well as he thought she would. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that she was breaking in half; her heart being torn every which way. It made Peter angry more angry then he’d ever been in his life. He got up from the couch and walked over to the couple.

“Scott can I talk to you?” He asked trying not to let anger seep through his voice. Scott huffed.

“Can this wait Peter I’m kinda in the middle of something.” He said before kissing Jean. She giggled and wrapped her arms around Scott’s neck bringing him closer to her. Peter turned away.

“No Scott it can’t wait.” Scott groaned.

“Fine then what is it?” He snapped

“Do you have any idea what you’re doing to her?”

“Who? Jean?” Scott questioned. “Probably turning her on.” Jean giggled again, Peter liked Jean he really did but if she giggled one more fucking time then Peter’s not going to be held responsible for his actions.

“No you fucking idiot Y/n!” Peter shouted fists clenched at his sides. Scott turned away from Jean to look at Peter.

“What about her?”

“She’s loved you for months. She told you she did but you didn’t care you only had your eyes on Jean!”

“Of course I did she’s Jean and Y/n’s Y/n.” This was making Peter almost it boiling point.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?!” Peter nearly screamed.

“It means that Y/n could never compare to me.” Jean answered smugly.

“Look at you so high and mighty when it was you that nearly killed Y/n when you couldn’t control your powers!” Peter shouted.

“I killed Apocalypse.” Jean answered “What were you doing Peter laying on the ground crying because daddy doesn’t know you’re his son?” Scott chuckled.

“And what was Y/n doing when we were risking our lives? Where was she? Hiding? Trying to bring Angel back to life. He was our enemy and she brought him back to life. She’s a traitor to us. I don’t even know why Professor Xavier still lets her on the team.” Without thinking about the consequences Peter punched Scott with so much force he fell back onto the floor. He didn’t stop though Peter kept pummelling him until Jean used her telekinesis to get Peter off of Scott. She instantly sat down as Scott’s side. The boys both glaring at each other. Scott’s lip was busted, blood seeping from it.

“But if she’d saved Alex she would be fine.” Peter said. Scott when to lunge for him again but Jean held him back.

“Don’t talk about my brother when you’re the reason he’s dead in the first place.” Peter felt a pang of guilt that made his blood run ice cold. Scott coughed. “You know what Peter just fuck off!” Scott shouted.

“With pleasure.” Peter said getting up and running to Y/n’s room. It was quiet apart from the occasional sob. He knocked softly.

“Go away.” She shouted her voice cracking so badly it also resembled her heart.

“It’s just me. You know Peter Maximoff I’m the fastest person in the school. I’m also part of the X Men and I’m pretty sure you are as well. I’m a hyperactive lunatic who adores twinkies but that doesn’t seem to bother you.” He said hearing her chuckle. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah.” She mumbled as Peter let himself in. She was sitting on her bed facing the window, the blinds had been pulled shut so she was sat in darkness. He didn’t pull the blinds up instead he used his power to sit on her bed. Not to close to her but not to far away from her either. Nothing was said for a few minutes before she asked Peter.

“Why does it hurt so much?”

“Having your heart broken hurts like hell.” Peter said he knows that feeling all to well. When Y/n was looking at Scott Peter was looking at her, he’d been lying if he said that she wasn’t the most attractive girl in the school. At least to him she was.

“How long does it take to fix?” She asked again. Pete shrugged.

“Depends on the person, I guess.”

“Of course it does.” She muttered “God how could I have been so stupid falling for him. Falling for someone who wouldn’t even go out with me. I mean who would go out with me?”

“I would.” Peter said without realising it. When he did it felt like a weight had been lifted off of his chest but instead of evaporating into the air it made its way to settle onto Y/n’s chest.

“You’re just saying that because I’m defenceless right now and I’m supposed to believe anything you say.”

“No I’m not.” Peter argued moving closer to Y/n so he could put his arm around her shoulders. “Look Y/n I know what this does to you. If I could take your pain away and make you forget about that asshole and his bitchy girlfriend I would but that’s not my superpower. The point is ever since I laid eyes on you I couldn’t get you out of my head and you’ve gotta be pretty special to get stuck in my head because of the amount of songs I’ve got hanging around in here.” He said banging his hand against the side of his head for emphasis. “So what if you don’t think you’re beautiful, I think you’re the most beautiful girl in the entire world despite how childish it sounds. You’re beautiful in your own way and I’m going to keep telling you that until it gets stuck in your brain like my songs.” She chuckled again.

“You really mean it?” She asked looking up at him with bloodshot eyes. He didn’t say anything instead he grabbed her chin and kissed her. She tensed before finally relaxing and brought her arms around Peter’s neck and starts playing with the hairs on the nape of his neck. They broke apart, panting before she leaned on his chest. “Thanks Pete.” She muttered into his chest. He pressed a kiss to the crown of her head and said

“Don’t mention it babe. How about you get some sleep?” She nodded and made her way under the covers.

“Pete.” She’s grabbed his wrist with a strength Peter didn’t know she possessed. It wasn’t hurting him.

“Yeah?”

“Stay with me?” She asked. He smirked and she let go of his wrist as he made his way to the other side of the double bed. Once he was under the covers Y/n rolled over to him and laid her head on his chest, just above his heartbeat.

“Always.”