#x-men movieverse

[furious-rogue-stuff]

A Feral Interlude

An X-MEN Origins: Wolverine Universe-inspired Series

*Post-Origins movieverse

Pairing: Victor Creed x Isabela Montecristo | Sabertooth x Vipress

Disclaimer: This series will have canon-accurate and heightened levels of violence, adult themes, slight dub-con/non-con overtones and undertones, descriptions of bloody gore and sadism, and graphic descriptions of sex.

Rating: Mature/Explicit 🔞

Series Summary: Victor Creed's reputation as the Sabertooth proceeds him. He clashes with a mysterious feral woman, an enigma and anomaly to everything he knows. What began as a hunt becomes a dance between like-minded predators.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 |

Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 |

Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13

Series is complete.

*Moodboard image was assembled from several sources and made by yours truly.

[lalaithquetzallicaresi]

We Made It

@marveltrumpshate​

Fanart made for the very kind @t0nystark1er​, who bid for me in the Marvel Trumps Hate 2022. She wanted a Cherik fanart. We decided on a wallpaper and during our conversation as we decided what to make it about, at some point she said about it showing that they made it together... I loved that idea, and this is what came out (I like how it came out): 

[newblandmarvelheadcanons]

In the movieverse, after Charles Xavier became paralyzed he got surgery to fix his spine so he can walk again. However, he has chronic pain that sometimes can bad enough that he needs to use a wheelchair.

[rabbitmotifs]

[trashogram]

Ok 👏 What 👏 If 👏 Red String of Fate AU where Kurt does dedicate himself to Christ but can’t go all the way with becoming a priest because the red string keeps him in perpetual yearning for the soulmate that he has yet to meet?

And then he’s found and led to Xavier’s, and you happen to be there? 👀

[bamfaholic]

something something Christians say how everyone has something/someone they worship something something idolitry something something

[annamariedarkholmes]

Anna Paquin as Rogue, Halle Berry as Storm, and Famke Janssen as Jean Grey, by Rodrigo Marques @roasifart (2023)

x - link to artist’s original post on twitter

[archaickosmonot]

"How did we end up here, at this door, in this place, this time? Fate and its strange machinations sometimes start with getting kidnapped, and end with moving in with the guy."

This is a small meditation on what Logan might've been thinking as he almost walked away again, and how he chose to stay.

Haven't posted fic in a while! But there are so many scenes in DPW I can't stop thinking about... So my many mediations on what the movie brings to the table begin here. With the end :)

[mintedwitcher]

Erik Lehnsherr is so "mutant supremacist" "we're the better men" BOTH OF THE WOMEN YOU KNOCKED UP WERE HUMAN ERIK

[sazwritesstuff]

Espresso | Part 1

Coffee Shop AU | Logan Howlett x fem!reader

Summary: You've been a barista at the same cafe for the past few years. You've gotten to know a far few regulars over those years, some you know by name and others you know only by their order. They make your job just a tiny bit more bearable. So when a new handsome regular begins to show up day after day you can't help but take notice.

Tags/warnings: Coffee Shop AU, barista reader, meet cute, swearing, soft Logan | Worst Wolverine (Deadpool 3)

Posted on AO3 here

No one else liked doing the opening shift but you and Sandy. Everyone else complained about having to get up so early to open at 6.30 in the morning. You, on the other hand, preferred it because it meant you got to leave earlier. There was usually an hour, sometimes two, where there were no customers to deal with. Or only a handful of regulars that you had gotten to know over the past couple of years since you started working at the cafe.

Carrol always had a latte with two slices of brown toast, no butter. With a newspaper or a book. If there were no other customers, she’d happily tell you about her daughter and grandchildren.

Gareth always had a black coffee, in a takeaway cup, sitting with his two dogs near the front door.

Paul, a roofer, came in twice a day for an extra-hot mocha in a takeaway cup that he can sit outside with. Even when it’s raining.

There were a few more that came in throughout the day that you had yet to learn the names of. Most of them you liked but there were a few regulars that got n your tits. Usually because they had one of the most awkward bloody orders that they’d get during rushes and find something to complain about. Despite getting the exact same thing every time.

The regulars that you got during the opening shift tended to be pensioners or part of the “yummy mummy” club. Some faces you recognised more than others. But there were always new faces coming and going, some recognising you when you had no clue who they were.

It was one of those curses of hospitality. That and always being understaffed. Or underpaid. Forced to do way too many hours…

Honestly, it was kind of shit.

But there was a new regular that you had noticed that had started coming in everyday now, getting the same black coffee and just sitting in one of the armchairs by the window. Nothing remarkable about his order. Simple. Easy. You gotten in the habit of getting it ready for him as soon as you saw him in the queue.

He was a man of few words. Polite though. Never rude to you, Sandy or any of your other colleagues. But you had seen him tell a few not so nice customers (usually men, but there were the odd Karen mixed in there) to “go fuck yourself” followed by a few other choice words.

Most people tried to start a fight until they actually turned around and found an over six-foot tall older man with more muscles than most gym rats.

He had become a bit of a favourite of yours.

You’d managed to make him smile a few times and even get a few short laughs out of him.

He was tall, handsome, older than you (but that had never stopped you before), and you so desperately wanted to know his name!

Even if it was just to add fuel to your little fantasies about him. Like running you fingers through his thick brown hair and tugging at the little tufts of hair that remind you of cat ears. Or running your hands up and down those veiny, muscular arms. Or giving his plump rump a smack.

If you could climb that man like a tree, you would die happy.

But you didn’t want to do the classic write your name on his coffee cup with your number, which was practically impossible as he preferred to sit in with a mug, or write it down on a napkin that he’d surely lose.

You’d seen and read enough rom-coms to know that was a terrible idea. Plus, it felt a little cliche.

Simply just asking him for his name and number weren’t an option either.

One, you had never seen him actually using a phone so you had no idea if he even had one. Two, he looked as if he was old enough to be you father (again, not that that had ever stopped you before) and could easily be married or in a serious relationship. Three, your co-workers all already teased you about your preference for older men. Four… he made you nervous. So, so nervous.

He was ruggedly handsome. Tall. Muscular (you wanted to lick those veins you’d seen peeking out under his sleeves).

Today, he’d come in while you’d gone to get some more milk from the walk-in. Sandy had served him his usual, your eyes straying over to where he sat with his coffee by the window.

“I see the crush is still going strong.” Sandy joked as she tamped down the coffee grounds before slotting the portafilter into the machine.

“Shut up! I can’t help it if he’s hot.” Without glancing up you said as you knelt down to put the milk away in the service fridge.

Sandy laughed at your words. “Still haven’t ask for his number then, have you?”

Straightening you sighed, “No. I haven’t and I’m not going to.”

Sandy placed the cappuccino down in front of customer waiting “Here you go! Enjoy!” with a large false smile on her face. Turning back towards you as the customer walked away, she crossed her arms and leant back against the counter. “If he was my type I would totally go for it. But I don’t have daddy issues.”

“No, you just have mommy issues, Sands.”

“Yeah, and if a hot MILF walked in here, I would be all over her like a fly on shit.”

“You’re so gross.”

“So, I’ve been told. But people also tell me that I’m super sexy so it balances itself out.”

Shaking your head smiling at her you said “If you say so.”

“I do and I also say that you should go take to Mr Tall-Dark-and-Brooding and ask him for his number.” She said nodding over to the man in question.

When you glanced over you swore you saw him smirking and trying to hide it behind his coffee.

Fuck me sideways, you thought, he’s so hot! How is that legal!

Rolling your eyes you said the one phrase you knew would annoy Sandy enough to distract her “If you have time to lean, you have time to clean.”

“Oh, shut up!” she said throwing a damp cloth at you. Sending you both into giggles.

“But seriously we should both try and look busy, Jodie’s going to be in in the next ten minutes.”

“Oh, no, not Jodie!” Sandy whined “I thought she was only working at the weekend this week.”

“She swapped with Hannah.”

“Noooo!” she whined pouting “That’s it my day’s ruined now. Scratch that, my whole week’s been ruined.”

“I’m not happy about it either but-" you stopped. Noticing movement out of the corner of your eye. Turning you were half way through saying “Hi, what can I get you?” before you realised it was the man that you’d been talking about only a moment ago. The smile on your face turning genuine as you felt your cheeks heat.

“Hi.” He said, his voice a deep rumble. Is it normal to get turned on just from someone’s voice?

“Did you want a refill?” you asked, still smiling.

Shaking his head he placed his cup down on the counter. “I just wanted to bring this back and, ugh,” he placed a piece of paper down next to it “give you this. I’m Logan by the way.” He said smiling and winking at you as he turned and walked away.

Leaving you standing there dumbstruck.

Sandy picked up the piece of paper that Logan had put down and squealed. “Oh my god! It’s his phone number! I told you. I fucking told you!”

Snatching the scrap of paper out of her hand you looked down at the numbers he’d scrawled with his name ‘Logan Howlett.’ underneath. Patting your pockets you said “Shit! Where’s my phone? I should text him. Oh my god, what do I next text him. Wait will it seem too desperate if I text him straightaway?”

“No.” Sandy tilted her head in contemplation, “Well, maybe. But if he wasn’t interested, he wouldn’t have given you his name now, would he?”

“But what if he doesn’t actually like me. What if he just felt he should because he overheard you earlier?”

“Y/n,” Sandy said placing her hands on your shoulders “Hot men don’t just go around handing their number and name out to any random person they come across. Stranger danger and all that. He’s obviously interested and decided to take a chance. Something that you need to do too. Now. Text the hot, sexy old man.”

Taking in a deep breath you nodded. “Okay, okay, yeah.” Pulling out your phone from your apron pocket you tapped Logan’s number into your phone and typed out a text. Trying not to over think it you pressed send.

Y/N: Hey Logan, this is sarah, you gave me your number in the café just now. I was wondering if you want to grab a drink sometime?

Three grey dots appeared. Vanished and quickly appeared again. You chewed on your fingernail as you watched the grey dots on the screen. No less than a minute later a message came through from Logan.

Logan: I’d love too. Are you free tonight?

You glanced up at Sandy “He wants to go out tonight.”

“Well, say yes! Get that DILF dick baby.”

“Sandy!”

“What are you two talking about?” Jodie’s nasally voiced asked as she joined you behind the counter, tying her apron around her waist “It doesn’t very work appropriate.”

“You’re not work appropriate.” Sandy muttered under her breath glaring at the woman.

“What was that?”

“Oh, nothing Jodie.” Sandy said moving from where she’d been standing next to you. “Can you go clear some tables for us?” she said handing her a tray.

Tuning the two of them out you turned your attention back to your phone.

Taking a deep breath, biting nervously at your thumb, you replied:

SARAH: I’m free tonight How about we meet at Malones at 6?

Logan: I’ll see you there beautiful 😉

You couldn’t wait.

[furious-rogue-stuff]

A Feral Interlude, Chapter 13: Epilogue

Pairing: Victor Creed x Isabela Montecristo | Sabertooth x Vipress

Disclaimer: This series will have canon-accurate and heightened levels of violence, adult themes, slight dub-con/non-con overtones and undertones, descriptions of bloody gore and sadism, and graphic descriptions of sex. *Post-Origins movieverse.

Rating: Mature/Explicit 🔞

Word count: 3,500+

Series Summary: Victor Creed's reputation as the Sabertooth proceeds him. He clashes with a mysterious feral woman, an enigma and anomaly to everything he knows. What began as a hunt becomes a dance between like-minded predators.

🚨Warning: Explicit sex, adult situations, implied rape, graphic imagery, feral power play, slight dub-con/non-con overtones and undertones, descriptions of bloody gore and sadism, and a pinch of angst. I do not own any aspect or character of the Marvel Universe nor elements of the X-Men Origins movieverse.

A Feral Interlude Masterlist

A Feral Interlude, Chapter 13: Epilogue

He walked the feudal streets of the former imperial capital, guardedly watching the sights of people celebrating their ancestral festival with joy and excitement. Colorful lanterns decorated shrines and the ringing of bells chimed in echoes all around with the laughter and cheers of crowds. The feral wandered with no destination in mind, as had become his custom since he'd woken up with no memory of who or what he was.

Idly fingering his dog tags tucked under his shirt, Logan strolled down towards one of the biggest shrines in Kyoto on the other side of a vibrantly red bridge. The group of Japanese locals that bustled opposite him across the bridge paid him no attention as they discussed their plans and pointed out the lovely lotus lanterns that floated down river and under the bridge. Sniffing the air, Logan sifted the smell of snow that would come before nightfall as he crossed over to the shrine.

The subtle yet entrancing beauty of the Shinto shrine had attracted him since the first day he'd arrived in Kyoto. Across from the shrine he spotted a procession of beautiful geisha in their dazzling silks and alabaster faces with bright rouged lips. He stood off to the side under one of the shrine's torii, absently making sure not to lean against the gate as he shoved his hands into his leather jacket's pockets and watched the slow procession near. His gaze wandered from one lovely geisha up to the parasol of another before wandering over the procession and across at the stoic beauty of the surroundings.

She stood out to him immediately. Eyes like polished jade with a hint of gold in the middle; stark in their brilliance and focused alluringly on him.

Wearing a traditional kimono, she stood out from the surroundings. Not a geisha—her countenance wasn't painted with the white base mask of traditional geisha—but not a tourist either. His interest was piqued by her, but the long procession made it difficult for him to make his way towards the grove she was strolling by.

The sound of rambunctious children running by distracted him as he narrowly maneuvered out of the way from having the rowdy kids bump into him as they rushed towards the shrine. When he looked back at the spot she was in, she was gone. In an even pace, he strode around the procession and cut through a group of monks—apologizing curtly as he did so—and followed in the general direction the mysterious woman had been strolling in. Winding down a stone path that led back to the narrow streets of the imperial city, Logan wandered into the heavy foot traffic and looked around and over the throngs when he spotted a flash of her retreating kimono as it passed out of sight down a busy avenue. He followed, picking up the pace of his stride as he turned the corner.

He halted, perplexed to not see the mysterious woman anywhere and confused by the sudden scent that tickled his nose as a rickshaw passed him on the street. Turning, he missed catching sight of the rickshaw's passenger, but was instead left buzzing from a heady and raw perfume that was left in its wake—tantalizingly wild. Logan tried to sift the significance of such a tempting scent, but shook off the curiosity and muttered to himself, "It ain't a memory, bub. Just a nice-smelling geisha…"

Riding in the rickshaw, Isabela felt her pulse slow again. She hadn't been so close to another feral in what felt like ages now, let alone the very feral brother of her former lover. She hadn't expected to be lured by the gravitating scent that she'd caught in the breeze on her walk through the festival. She loved Japan and always held a fondness for the imperial capital. Kyoto had managed to remain as pristine as it had been at the end of the Tokugawa shogunate. The majesty of the city and all of its sites had lured her out into the crowds. She'd first caught his scent when the brooding feral was strolling through Maruyama Park and gazing up at the slumbering weeping cherry blossom tree. At first, she'd been confused by the familiarity of the scent and the unfamiliarity of the subject, until she'd seen him give a small smirk after he reached for a lonely pale pink blossom that was already in wilt and pressed it into his jacket pocket. The irreverent quirk of his boyish lips and the mirth that crinkled the corners of his eyes were very familiar and singularly reminiscent of Victor when he was devoid of any mischief or sadism; when amusement would curl genuinely free from the wickedness he wore like chainmail. Smiling, she was sure that the man had been the fabled Jimmy. His scent resembled Victor's, but unlike the feline feral, he had a softness in his brown eyes that disarmed her when they fell on her. He had looked young and bemused, struck by her, as if he'd never seen another feral before. It had stuck with her.

Musingly, she decided she would return to Tokyo before schedule. She suddenly felt ruffled by the proximity of another like her. It had made her yearn for contact—to share her true self with a being like her, especially one so close to the last person she'd tangled herself emotionally and physically with. Most of all, she'd been tempted to engage him and share her knowledge with him—about her and his brother. But the look in his eyes told her she and everyone in the world were strangers to him…it had unnerved her.

The animal wasn't pleased and whispered for her to remain as she's been: supreme and alone so as to avoid further entanglements of the mortal coil. Her intrigue curbed, she instructed the rickshaw man to take her to the train station. It was time she busy herself, and she knew Japan would keep her busy for quite a while thanks to its booming economy and rising global participation. Nothing better for a heavy heart than to toil at what one does best…

                      _____________________________________

It wasn't the Gobi desert, but he was sure if he stayed long under the blistering heat he definitely could go mad. He remembered a few times in Vietnam where he would be so overheated he would forget what he was doing—feel caged and need to lash out to gain his bearings. Wait, why am I even thinking of the Gobi-fucking-desert?

He tossed his head, rubbing the sweat out of his eyes as he leaned back on the tree branch and looked up at the rays of sun blazing through the canopy of trees all around him. He was high off the ground, balanced like a lounging big game cat. He'd radioed in for pickup over an hour ago, but that wasn't what he was worried about. Digging his claws into the tree bark, Victor brooded, eyes hooded and faraway as he tried to focus his thoughts. His mind flashed to Isabela sitting across from him, looking alluringly seductive as she smiled at him from behind a wine glass. Oh yeah…goddammit. 

Victor had lost track of how long it have been since rapture had fizzled out of his system, but every once in a while his mind would betray him with an errant memory or silly reminder of Vipress. His viper. Isabela Montecristo had sent a shock to his system, or at least that's what he told himself whenever he needed to get his mind off of her. Lately it hadn't taken that much effort, not with work keeping him occupied. Said work had taken him to most corners of the third world, including his current position. He liked government work. The perks were just as good as he remembered and the hassle was never his problem.

Having his bloodlust met and getting paid for it had alleviated some of his rancor and pent up impulsivity, leaving him to only brood over her. He had made it so he wouldn't have much time with his thoughts, and he liked it that way, until moments like this when all he had to do was think.

The murmur of a helicopter in the distance was a reprieve to his rising thoughts—his desires that left him angry and scornful and brashly strategizing his next move in recovering what was his. He needed time to distance himself from yet another blow to his ego…from yet another loss that he ultimately considered his fault.

With a growl, he stood up on the branch and began to climb his way up to the top of the tree, reaching the blazing sunlight beyond just as the helicopter came into his eye line from across the horizon.

                      _____________________________________

"An offer you can't refuse."

He both loved and hated that line now. Yeah, damn straight. Dan Dresner thought to himself as he gazed at the holographic archive that spun before him like a god come down from the heavens. It was all just so…beautiful. And he'd been involved—hell, he'd poured his mind and soul into it!

He didn't know where he was, who these people really were, or what side they were truly on, but he knew this could be used for both good and evil. The archive was unlike anything ever put together before. For once he felt a part of something revolutionary. Unlike his work for Stryker, his ability was used for knowledge's sake…for now anyway. He wasn't naïve. He knew that if Fury was just another Stryker—that all his work would go to mobilize destruction, human and mutant alike…but he didn't believe Fury was like Stryker.

Dan couldn't say he knew the man, but he knew what he'd read from him: Nick Fury was a man who loved his country and would do anything to defend it, short of the atrocities committed by evil men he'd fought against his whole military career. As far as Dan was concerned, he was doing good work, and was no longer ashamed or taking his powers for granted.

"Archeion, access mutant database. Codename: Archive," he instructed.

"Archive not registered, sir. Would you like to register?" The feminine-voiced computer asked.

"Yes," he responded, stepping into the middle of the hologram just as two electrodes descended from the central pedestal's ceiling console to attach to his temples. "Commence."

He closed his eyes and began to load into the computer all his self-knowledge about his mutant persona: Archive. Dan wasn't going to be a coward; he was committed to the whole process, good and bad of it. If it meant that he was now part of some list, so be it. There was no turning back, and for once, he wasn't scared of having to move forward into the uncertain future.

                      _____________________________________

Highlights of the Iranian Revolution played out on the screen mounted on the wall, the sound muted. The rest of the modern penthouse was sterile and utilitarian save for the dazzling view of Tokyo behind the plush couch she was lounging on as she watched the television. Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini rallied the crowds as the new Supreme Leader, and Isabela couldn't help muse ambivalently on how close she had played a part in any of it. It seemed to her that no matter how much she strove to remain distant from the mainstream world, she always found herself ensnared in sequences of events that would shape the present and future of a society. It was all too close for comfort.

Standing, she turned her back on the inset television that took up most of the wall and set her attention on the amazing view from her penthouse window.

It was yet another tower, separated from all the buildings around her, but unlike her place in NYC, it was much colder and severe. The style suited her lately, uncluttered and serene, albeit post-modern. After leaving Kyoto, she'd spent weeks on end staring out the window, just as she was now, wondering about her place in the world. Her beliefs had been shaken, undermined by the whirlwind she'd been swept up in, and all she could do was reflect on it all from the detached objectivity afforded to her by the beast within.

The viper…the animal inside of her had always been there to guide her. It would always be there for her, and during times of great soul searching, it was there to remind her: You are lethal. You are vicious. You are mighty. And you are me. We are indestructible and unattainable. 

This time, she wavered. Looking at her reflection in the glass, she stared into her preternatural gaze and thought that she was not alone. There were other animals like her out there, just as indestructible and fierce as she, but not as unrelentingly detached from the world. She had already crossed paths with one, and there were times when Victor weighed on her mind so persistently that she wondered if it wasn't time for her to rethink her path.

You'll cross paths again. If you choose to be his then…we will be his. 

The primordial whisper assured her, and she retreated to it, glad to be fortified by the gesture and soothed in the irrevocable acceptance of fate being what she would make. Isabela looked down on the world below, hope blossoming within her for the new decade before her and the absence of guilt she felt from the one past her.

                      _____________________________________

He much preferred subzero temperatures to sub-Saharan heat any day. The only problem with the cold climate was that blood would ice over and crystallize under his claws, which made them ache if he didn't pick them clean. Otherwise, the cold always gave him some sick form of comfort.

Victor made his way through the knee-deep snow, unfazed by the wind that whipped around him and obscured the landscape ahead. He was deep in the Northwest Territories, probably closer to the border of Yukon by now. The solitude of the almost polar landscape was an excellent place for his next rendezvous. Even with the modern conveniences of snowmobiles, most humans couldn't navigate the terrain. It was cruel and hostile—just like him.

Smirking, he scraped some of the frost that was collected along the fur of his jaw and made his way over an incline that camouflaged the secret base. He effortlessly trekked down to the unsecured series of structures, sniffing the air for any signs of vehicle exhaust. Looking east, he spotted the hangar and headed in route to it. Pushing the heavy side door open, Victor kicked the door closed after him, sealing the snow and howling wind outside as he loped over to the man sitting on the steps of the armored military helicopter. Which military? Victor didn't know and didn't care.

"What part of 'I'm on vacation' dontcha understand, huh, Hudson?" Victor groused acerbically as he approached the man, who was busying himself by lighting the cigarette dangling on his lip.

"The part where you come here for some R & R. Figured you were more bored than needing to relax," Hudson responded, inhaling deep and letting the puff of smoke exhale in a cloud from his nostrils. "Just cuz I said there were no supervisors doesn't mean yer not supposed to check in, Creed. And by the way, since when did you get into wearing fur? Kind of a weird look on yah, buddy," he straight-faced joked as he puffed away on his cigarette.

Dusting the melting snow off of his fur-lined trenchcoat, Victor snorted, "This ain't your mother's furs, asshole. 'Only wear what I kill, and this grizzly sure put up a fight; couldn't let the pelt go to waste." The other man whistled in response. "You didn't come here to give me shit about my fashion sense. What do yah want?" Victor muttered and gave him a calculating look that told the other man he hadn't trekked so far for low-rent shit.

Tucking the cigarette between his fingers, Hudson grabbed a folder that was sitting on the top step of the helicopter before tossing it to Victor. "Yah probably heard about this during your tenure with Striker." When Victor tilted his head in that dangerous way, Hudson quickly added, "A tenure we will never discuss, I remember."

Eyeing him sharply before pulling the form out of the file, Victor grunted and skimmed the old CIA form. His eyes lingered over a codename and he looked over at Hudson before looking at the name again, shoving the form back into the file and tossing it back at him. "Yeah, I heard about it, and I ain't interested," he stated with irrevocable steel in his tone.

"Yah sure?" the man said coolly as he stubbed out his cigarette on the side of the stairs.

"You guys can't afford me for this job. I'd charge double if I was interested, and I'm not interested," Victor remarked, his thumbnails idly flicking his other nails in succession, pinky to forefinger and visa versa. It was a telltale sign that he was impatient.

Hudson read the gesture and stood. "Alright. Not gunna lie, I was hoping you'd take it. Yer the only guy I could think of with the balls to go after him—"

"You fuckin' suck at flattery, Hudson, so can it. And do me a favor—don't fucking patronize me again," he let the deadly edge of his tone weigh the air before continuing, "Don't think just cuz I'll kill my own kind for money that I'm gonna help your kind tip the scales back in your collective favor."

"Figured you for a non-political kind of mutant, Creed, wouldn't peg you for a Homo-Superior—"

"So you pegged me for a self-loathing mutant bastard who'd wanna off a guy who thinks mutants are superior to humans? Last time I checked, you don't get paid to figure or peg—you get paid to hand out missions and get the fuck out of the way of the masters. And this fuckin' master is sayin' he's gonna pass on this…understood?" Victor snarled hostilely, watching as the other man shrugged and put his hands up in surrender of the argument.

"Got it, Creed. Sorry I disturbed your vay-kay. Just do me a favor: when yer done with the uninhabitable solitude, give me a call. I'll have something lined up for yah…" Hudson stated and with that, gave Victor a backwards wave as he turned and walked up the steps into the state of the art helicopter.

Victor watched the steps recede and the helicopter seal shut just as the roof of the hangar split and opened upwards. The advanced aircraft ascended into the howling elements, leaving the feral to huff and turn back towards the way he came. By the time he was stalking up the incline the helicopter was humming out of sight. Sprinting through the treeline, Victor prowled on all fours and galloped the rest of the way back to his hideout.

He had to admit, for the Sabertooth to be considered capable enough to be asked to take out Erik Lensherr was testament to how he'd come up in the world. Sure, he didn't take the job, but it meant he wasn't a lowly mercenary; he wasn't a guy you'd call to take out third world garbage anymore. More importantly, he was a man with options, someone to be up-sold and feared.

A smirk tugged on his boyish lips as he stared into the fire of his rustic hearth. It was a new decade, and a new day for Victor Creed. All the things—her—that he'd been longing for were pushed to the background in his mind. His solitary spirit was fortified and his pride swelled from the thought that he was at a place he'd always wanted to be: free, unburdened by guilt, and powerful in his own right. When it came down to it, he was the king of his mountain, and he liked his odds at staying on top. Most importantly, he was genuinely proud for the first time since he and Jimmy embraced their natures and formed their brotherhood close to a hundred years before.

The animal and the man were in true harmony…and nothing would change or stand in the way of that now.

The End.

____________________

Thanks for reading! Please consider leaving a comment and sharing your feedback. I would be eternally grateful.

[lalaithquetzallicaresi]

Transcendental

When is retirement not retirement? When is the end not truly an ending? Walking away doesn’t necessarily mean giving up, death isn’t always the end.

Some people can at times transcend, but only if they’re willing, if they’re ready to embrace all they are, and might yet be…

The story of Erik, Charles and the love that will make them keep rising, time and again, like the Phoenix… 

Post DP fic that goes into, among other things: Charles and Erik together in Genosha, romance, moving on, and building a new future after old dreams are lost. 

I’m aware that in the movie the idea was to show Charles as the one at fault this time around; make him proud, arrogant, etc. Thing is, I don’t see it that way. I think some things are open to interpretation and I chose to see them that way. Because while I won’t say Charles is perfect, I don’t think he’s the kind of man to use the X-Men to make himself famous. It doesn’t fit with his character, in my opinion. I thought: what other reason could there be? What reason could Charles have for pushing the X-Men like that? Really, what is Charles’s chief motivation at all times? Protecting the mutants, his students, his children. When the biggest threat to them are humans, specifically human governments, what better way to ensure their safety than to have the humans see them as heroes? As necessary? You don’t turn on those who’ve saved your life... or that was supposed to be the idea. 

Now, one of the things that pushed this belief in me, aside from what I mentioned before about Charles’s characterization and motivations, is that, at the end, the whole Charles leaving the Institute, leaving everyone, after everything that just happened: Jean dead, the mess with the Phoenix and the D’Bari, the humans turning on the mutants, again, and all the others who died (and the destruction their battle caused)... it makes no sense for Charles to leave then. Unless someone told him to leave... someone who was already angry at him, who blamed him for everything that happened... 

That was the other thing that fueled the creation of this fic and... well. I hope some people might be interested in reading it. (It’s 2 chapters thus far, the third will be up by the weekend)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/43546521 

[bardicious]

Hi friend do you have any Charles/Erik fic recommendations of a gentle variety? I watched the First Class era recently and am just….a lil broken up Re:: the pain of Charles losing his best friend and his sister at the same time… and then bottling up that pain for as long as he could until “you took her away and you left me!”

Okay, nonnie! I've got a few here that may interest you. Now, I'm a big fan of hurt/comfort fics, so I can't promise anything too gentle, unfortunately. 😅 (Most of my bookmarks are hella dark apparently) Anyway! Ill list you some I recently read, and mostly remember.

How Still My Love by Regann

"A mysterious sleeping disease, three loyal guardians, and a friend-turned-foe with unclear motives. It might sound like something out of a fairy tale but it's life after Cuba in the Xavier manor for what's left of the so-called X-Men. When Charles can no longer lead them, it's up to Hank, Alex and Sean to figure out a way to protect their mentor, especially once Erik comes seeking an audience. (Variously nicknamed "the Fairytale Fix-it," "Snow Charles and the Three Wishes," and "Alex feels via Charles/Erik." All three are pretty accurate.)"

This one I highly recommend, it's so cute, and the way the author played with fairy tales is fun. Fair warning tho, Erik doesn't stay at the end of this fic. But Charles' heart is a bit more mended.

Second Chances by justavagrant

This one is a time travel fic. Basically young child age Charles, Raven, and Erik replace their older counterparts. The kids build a close friendship real quick, and I believe it's ongoing.

Another Like Me by Ad_astrah

It's 1950, young Charles is getting his powers under control. He meets Erik, 19 years old, who's tracking down Nazis and killing them. They go on a little adventure together.

Elpis by garrideb

Cute protective Erik, injured Charles. This fic is a treat!

Not Yet by GenuineSnoof

"AU - No Beach Divorce and no bullet, but Erik still didn't stay at the school for good. They have an established "with benefits" relationship."

Cold Hands, Warm Heart by pinkoptics

Cherik fic set in Genosha!

Idiot Control Now by cygnaut

"Hank screws something up in the lab and everyone's powers increase tenfold. Not knowing how to control them like this, they all try to cope and not kill each other by mistake while Hank tries to find a way to reverse the effects. Charles has a particularly hard time of it."

Come Together by blarfkey

Series of fics, from Peter's point of view. Decent amounts of Cherik.

Peter's Stepdad by nzeedee

"Peter takes his time to observe and learn more about Erik as he works up the courage to make a family connection. Soon he realizes that Charles is a valuable asset in Erik's life and they may come as a unified pair."

AND some honorable mentions:

First Class Era:

5 Ways Logan Fixed Everything (Like a Boss) by Starlingthefool

Reverse Polarity by smilebackwards (powerswap fic, can't remember well tho)

What Not To Expect When You're Not Expecting It by thehoyden (mpreg, but if you're not into that, I'm not usually either, I think this one was done in a fun way)

DOFP:

A source of knowledge, a source of hope by redaurorarora

Post/Apocalypse: (these might be my favorite, I'm a sucker for comforting charles after apocalypse)

More by humanveil

things we lost in the fire by goodmorningbeloved (3799steps)

all the things i thought I knew (I'm learning again) by spacenarwhal

Hope you like these, nonnie! Sorry if they couldn't be more gentle! I do hope they're more satisfying than the end of FC. 💀 I know your pain.

[bronzeagepizzeria]

just thinking abt how absolutely devastating charles' injury at the end of xmfc really is. like here's this mutant who can literally control people's minds. he can make them do anything he wants, but he can no longer command his own body...it's heartbreaking

[aces-to-apples]

"cat-scratch"🔒

He picks up the kid in some shithole town in northern Alberta.

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Category: Gen Fandoms: X-Men Origins: Wolverine, X-Men (2000) Relationship: Victor Creed & Rogue Characters: Victor Creed, Rogue (X-Men), Charles Xavier, Ororo Munroe, Scott Summers Additional Tags: Amnesia, Amnesiac Victor Creed, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Roleswap, Big Brother Victor Creed, Why Don't You Have A Few Adamantium Bullets To The Brain And Maybe You'll Calm Down Words: 4,372

[stormxpadme]

People in the fucking 90s already: Please stop it with the love triangle.

Marvel writers: Anyone say sum'thin?

Poly people rejoicing at Krakoa finally solving that damn thing: See? We've been telling you, poly exists.

Marvel: Ahahahhaha, yeah, let's kill that whole timeline because too many bigots buy our comics, oops.

People: Okay, but it's the year of the good Lord 2024, we won't have to deal with that shit all over again in the new show, right?

X-Men 97: You know what, I'll give you not one but TWO love triangles.