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earnestly-endlessly · 5 years ago

Note

Can i request Cherik fic rec of collage au? Pretty please? Extra cookie points if it’s long fic

Thank you for the request anon! I am so sorry how late this is, but I hope that this list will give you plenty of new fics to read and enjoy!!

College/University Cherik AU

** Where they’re both college/university students**

A Road Trip to Pennsylvania – Aainiouu

Summary: For a year Charles has nurtured the biggest and most embarrassing crush known to man towards Erik. They are friends and roommates and when Erik asks Charles to accompany him to home on Thanksgiving of course Charles goes.

Of kittens and teacups and love – Ren

Summary: Modern AU in which Charles and Erik are flatmates. Charles studies psychology and likes tea and chess and keeps bringing home stray kittens, and Erik lets him because he's maybe perhaps a little bit sort of in love with him.

Love Medley – ikeracity

Summary: Charles and Erik have been friends and roommates for two years. They've also, coincidentally, been in love with each other for two years. Neither of them has ever had the courage to admit it to the other, but Erik's new friendship with Magda and an untimely accident forces them to confront their feelings once and for all.

it was a red scarf semester – ikeracity

Summary: When Erik makes a bet that he can get into Charles Xavier's pants before the semester ends, he doesn't expect Charles to resist quite so much. And he doesn't expect Charles to change everything he thought he knew about mutants, friendship, and love.

Can You Feel My Heart – FuryRed

Summary: Erik Lehnsherr hates Charles Xavier.It’s as true as the words written on the wall in the bathroom at the university that Erik attends. Erik sees them one day- accompanied by a crude drawing of Erik and Charles glaring at each other- and recognises the truth of the sentence, and smiles.

He hates Charles. Probably…

Enemies With Benefits – bettysofia

Summary: Casual sex with your sworn enemy gets tricky once feelings get involved.

CMUniverse - Pookaseraph

Summary: A series of fics that star Tony, Charles, and Erik (and probably some others as the idea expands) at Carnegie Mellon University. Some are AU of each other, don't use logic.

Math Reasons - pearl_o, pocky_slash

Summary: "Mom says Erik always knows what he wants, it just sometimes takes him a little while to actually realize it," Ruth said.

Charles fell in love with Erik the first night they met, the first week of freshman year. Two years of friendship, adventures, arguments, hijinks, secrets, and summer visits later, Erik is starting to catch up.

Still Life with Cookies – stlkrchck

Summary: It wasn't fair that he only wanted Erik to draw him when Erik wanted to listen to him talk about how unfair the lack of emphasis that tenure committees placed on teaching ability was and tuck him into the hat and scarf and mittens that he wore even though it wasn’t properly cold yet and kiss his gorgeous, ridiculously red mouth and make out with Charles on the bed that he'd apparently wedged between the window and "pipes of some sort, don't ask me why there are pipes in my room, Erik," in his tiny dorm room.

Or: Charles is a nude model, and Erik is an art student.

The Pretender – Clocks

Summary: Charles is sick of having his best friend Erik drop to one knee and fake-propose to him in restaurants, just to score a free dessert. He doesn’t know which is worse: the complete embarrassment, or the likelihood that Erik doesn’t mean a word of it.

That time the System didn’t work – bluexlily

Summary: "pick each other up from bad dates" au

They had stablished The System a long, long time ago.

Since they became each other’s roommate, actually, and realized that they had more in common than their home state and decided they should be friends.

Whenever he or Charles is on a date, they send a first message after meeting the prospected boyfriend.

Accidentally Welcome to the Rest of Your Lives - Kianspo

Summary: Non-powered college AU. Erik and Charles have nothing in common until they end up having sex at someone's party. They don't have much in common after that, either, but find each other a hard habit to quit.

A Study in Advanced Lecherism - orphan_account

Summary: Charles has this thing he does when he's drunk. He gets completely lecherous. For some reason, that really pisses Erik off. Who knew?

Learning Curve – pocky_slash

Summary: (Non-powered college AU) Erik takes a trip back to campus to visit a despondent Charles and does his best to offer comfort.

Charles Does Not Buy a Shamwow - Madneto

Summary: Charles and Erik are spending the first few days of their university's winter break alone at Erik's mother's house. Then, Erik's mother decides to come home early unannounced... while Erik and Charles are naked on the living room couch.

5 Times Charles Had Nothing to Say and 1 Time He Did – BadLuckBlueEyes

Summary: Charles Xavier usually has a lot to say. But sometimes he doesn't and that's nice too. (Written for the prompt: Erik befriending and falling in love with mute!Charles)

Five Useful Signs When Dating Charles Xavier (a down under remix) – letosatie

Summary: Erik meets a fascinating mute boy and rapidly discovers sign language is useful.

Home Together (The Finding Our Way Remix) – significantowl

Summary: Erik is not the sort of person other students strike up conversations with. His expression, his posture, every part of his manner say: Don’t talk to me. I don’t want to talk to you. But none of that stops the boy ahead of him in line with the collapsible white cane, and nothing can stop Erik from falling for him, like it or not.

The Wall (a.k.a. Erik Lensherr) – fkbunnyclub

Summary: Charles doesn't really want to have a crush on the cute stoic senior who keeps dropping by the library where he works who also has a pregnant girlfriend. Or so he thinks.

Building a fire – dedkake

Summary: Erik wishes he were in law school instead of med school, because then he would be researching the legal remedies for the doubtless thousands of violations his apartment building's slumlord owner, Sebastian Shaw, has perpetrated on his tenants.

On the bright side, maybe he can finally coax his bizarrely oblivious roommate, Charles into sharing his bed, or curling up together on the couch under many blankets. Purely for surviving the night, of course.

April Showers – ikeracity

Summary: Walking home in the dark in a rainstorm is not Charles' idea of a pleasant night. Of course, the stranger with the umbrella who offers to walk him home makes the experience infinitely more agreeable.

Alles hat ein Ende, nur die Wurst hat zwei – Darksknight

Summary: “My mother has expressed that if I come dateless, I will be assigned one, to put it lightly. So, you see... well, I have a favor to ask. Erik, darling. Will you be my pretend boyfriend?"

Erik thinks it over for a second. "... No."

Mutant House at Dead Kings College – mabyn

Summary: When it comes to romance, Charles has terrible timing.

Best of Enemies – Black_Betty

Summary: Student and mutant rights activist Erik Lehnsherr is furious when the college newspaper chooses to interview his opponent Charles Xavier instead of him.

He's mad because of the politics of the thing. It nothing to do with how hot Charles looks in the picture accompanying the article.

Seriously.

The Luck You’re Born With – Lynds

Summary: College AU. Erik thinks Charles Xavier is an arrogant, rich brat, whose only redeeming quality is his intellect. Charles never disputes this image. Then through an accident Erik finds out that Charles has been long cut off from his family and is essentially a single parent to a ten-year-old Raven.

Like Roses and Wine – Schwoozie

Summary: Charles is not what you would call a “sports person” - but the promise of free kisses after the game, especially with one Erik Lensherr playing midfield, is a temptation Charles can't resist.

Every Song I Know – Fengirl88

Summary: “Erik,” Janos says wearily, “you had amazing sex with this guy. He obviously really likes you. You have, what, a month, six weeks left? You can spend it moping and hiding and worrying you're going to run into him. Or you can call him, have a good time, and figure out where you go from there.”

Erik groans. It's what he wants to do, so much it scares him.

[or, the one where Erik and Charles meet and fall in love as exchange students, break up, and meet again by chance seven years later]

Argue me tender, argue me true – Wild_Imagination

Summary: “You’re having your bad-boy crisis with seven years of delay, Charles.”

“Why must he spit out those hateful, misanthropic, science-free, separatist ideas of his with a face like that!”

Charles and Erik attend the same college, and they never, ever agree on anything. But that's fine, because Charles can't stand him. No, really.

Simultaneity – TurtleTotem

Summary: Trying to deliver roses to his girlfriend, Erik knocks on the wrong door -- but Charles is so happy to get them, how can Erik possibly tell him the truth? Love, lies and exhaustion follow as Erik tries to keep boyfriend and girlfriend happy and, most importantly, unaware of each other!

**Where one of them is a college/university student**

in the moonlight, on a joy ride – scarlettblush

Summary: Librarian AU. Charles is the young librarian and Erik is the college student who is completely besotted with him.

Mutually Beneficial Transaction – Pookaseraph

Summary: In his sophomore year at Columbia University, Erik, feeling slowly strangled by his mounting college debt, places an add on a sugar daddies website. He doesn't know exactly what to expect from it, but when he's contacted by a man named Charles who seems less creepy than the other people who have responded to his profile, he decides to give it a shot. Charles is nothing like what he expected, and Erik finds himself slowly falling in love with his sugar daddy while trying to find out exactly what caused this amazing guy to buy his emotional and sexual intimacy when he clearly deserves so much more than that.

Authority kink – aesc, Subtilior

Summary: “You’re going to be in your room, on Skype with full video, when I call you tonight, at … nine o’clock sharp, your time.”

Tonight.

Erik, a proud and surly graduate student, keeps his deepest, darkest desires under tight control. Charles, his genetics professor, keeps handcuffs on his copy of the university handbook. You can see where this is going.

An Ideal Grace – afrocurl, nekosmuse

Summary: Erik Lehnsherr is a visiting professor at Columbia University, as well as an acclaimed and award winning poet. Charles Xavier is a lead researcher with the Genetics Department who is well on his way to tenure. But what happens when Charles has to cancel a class because half his students abandon him in favour of a mysterious new English Lit professor? Naturally he ends up sitting in in the class, where Professor Lehnsherr mistakes him for a student. It's really too bad Erik has such a strict policy against dating students. It's also too bad Erik doesn't seem to know how to use Google.

Note: This is not technically a university/college AU, but I’ll let it slide because it’s one of the best cherik fics out there and for the majority of the fic Charles is in Erik’s class (even though, unbeknownst to Erik, he’s a professor as well).

#cherik #cherik fic recs #fic recs #asks #earnestly answers

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wyslyyzr · 4 years ago

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short about and rules until i get this blog in order.

GENERAL

this is a blog for marvel’s erik “magneto” magnus lehnsherr / max eisenhardt, 616 based with certain mcu influences and a selective mcu verse tailored my own way. i generally do not like the mcu or xmcu. i have been writing magneto for around 6 years and my takes are personally developed and my own. do not lift from me, i will notice. my previous url was magnetive.

i am jewish, as is erik. i don’t care about your goyische opinions.

nsfw will appear, especially mentions of the holocaust and antisemitism, nazism, child death, violence, starvation, etc. i’ll tag almost anything. nsfw of a sexual variety will probably appear occasionally as well; i am 24.

please tag a/b/o, mothers day, pet death, and pedophilia for me.

the usual goes. don’t godmod but inferences to move a thread along, be respectful and polite, no bigotry, etc.

my interpretation of erik is not that of the hammy archetypal villain how he was portrayed in early appearances, nor that of certain depictions of a man dissatisfied with his faith.

also, obviously i’ve always taken the twins as his own children and cannot see them as anything else. addendum, i do not appreciate “deadbeat dad” erik jokes, nor anything that seriously portrays him as not loving pietro.

i will not interact with kilgrave blogs or “hydra” blogs. i don’t care if you’re “coping” or don’t endorse the fucking red skull. rape and nazism is not welcome on this blog.

SHIPPING

i’ll basically say i’m open but selective. erik is not easy to ship with and its not the priority of my blog and never really has been.

i see erik as a bi-ace man with male leanings; this does not discount the women he’s loved and never will.

i like cherik, but please be aware that i’m hyper critical of charles xavier, especially 616 charles, and think he’s a bit of a bastard. this isn’t mean to reflect you as a writer, just the character himself; in fact, it rarely reflects how erik himself feels.

please note that i am severely uncomfortable shipping erik with anna marie / rogue. it’s totally fine if you ship them, but considering i portray erik as being actively involved with raven’s life, and having known her children since they were young, it makes me really uncomfortable to think of him dating either of them. i’m also just uncomfortable writing him with people who are way younger than him in general; they have to at least have emotional and physical maturity of an individual preferably in their 40s.

no weird ships please. nothing with characters substantially younger than him or characters he does not and would never view in that light.

OTHER

again, erik is a jew and so am i. i’m going to be talking about it a lot and bringing it deep into my writing. this unfortunately is going to include the shoah, as its something erik lived through and experienced, and deeply impacted the way he would go about the rest of his life. despite his hardships, he loves himself, his faith and culture, etc.

there are a number of people i dont want to see on my dash and will probably unfollow if i’m forced to. its not personal, it’s for my own comfort.

DO NOT WRITE WITH ME IF YOU WRITE GENDERBENDS OR WRITE WITH GENDERBENDS. do not write with me if you write with weaponxtm / kiel. thank you.

I HATE this rpc. i am a long withstanding marvel writer and i literally hate like 75% of the people in this rpc. if i follow, i want to write. if i’m at all irritated by something you post, i’m just going to unfollow for my sanity.

i typically do not follow first for the above reason, and also just because i’m shy.

DO NOT WRITE WITH ME IF YOU WHITEWASH THE MAXIMOFF TWINS. they are RROMA and JEWISH. if you use elizabeth olssen (or however you spell her name) as your fc, aware of all the shit shes said and aware that her playing the character she plays is whitewashing and antisemitic, i hate you and want nothing to do with you. if you are unaware, i will be happy to explain.

if you dont have any mun info anywhere on your blog, i probably am not going to follow you.

i’m danny. 24 in october. jewish. trans.

#tbt.

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brawlingdiscontent · 5 years ago

Text

the men of metal, menacing with golden face, 2/?

a.k.a sequel to terrible with the brightness of gold

(cherik fic, viking au, subtle a/b/o, mature rating)

(first part) (tl;dr for any of you, like me, who can’t remember what happened: Charles wakes alone, finds he’s trapped in the tent, snoops around and writes a secret letter)

(part three)

This part is dedicated to all you amazing anons and non-anons who have been checking up on me and sending encouragement. You know who you are!

Warning: this chapter contains minor descriptions of violence, graphic threats of rape and murder, and some misogynistic/feminizing slurs (none of these last from Erik)

...

As Charles is marched outside the tent and herded through the camp, guarded in front and behind, he reminds himself that Lehnsherr needs him alive. The thought is especially comforting as he hears the crinkle of the letter concealed up his sleeve.

There’s no Azazel this time to fetch him. In the bleak silence of the passage, marred only by the everyday sounds of the camp, he almost misses the other's cheerful if subtly threatening presence. Now there's just the crunch of feet on the compacted dirt of the camp. Of course, there’s no need for such official escort, nor for formality now, he thinks grimly. Formality is for guests, which he is no longer. Now he's caught.

He hears them before he sees them, in snatches of raised voices, as they approach the edge of camp. The voices echo as though carried on the wind, rising in pitch in the distinctive pattern of an argument, but words indistinguishable.

They round the corner and the narrow view of tents opens up onto the plains that demarcate the outskirts of the camp. Horses are tethered here, by a small copse of trees. He sees Lehnsherr attending to a horse, his figure—though by no means short—dwarfed by the hulking, agitated form of another man: the source of the argument. Despite the size difference and latent threat in the other’s posture, Lehnsherr, though tense, looks more bored than worried.

As they get closer, it becomes clear that the conversation is uneven. The large man seems to be doing most of the talking, his anger apparent. Lehnsherr’s reaction is subtler, but appears in the tight curve of his shoulders, gradually stiffening as the man goes on, like a bow drawn taught just before it’s loosed. Before Charles can begin to suss out the particulars of the dispute through tone and gesture alone, it erupts. In a flash Lehnsherr's opponent buries a dagger in the point of a nearby tree, and then tugs it out aggressively, brandishing it in threat. Lehnsherr, for the first time, looks up fully from his task. He says something, steady and so low that Charles can’t even make out the shapes of the foreign words. With a thunderous look the other man lowers the knife, and, sneering, retreats. Throwing final warning glare back over his shoulder, he stalks off into the thrum of camp heading somewhere off to Charles' left.

Curious though the scene is, Charles only half follows the man’s progress, for the sight of Lehnsherr sets off a flare in his chest that's been building, smouldering since he tried to leave the tent that morning. He forgets his apprehension at the ambiguous summons and breaks from the rank of his escorts. A breath later he’s standing before the man.

“I told you I wouldn’t be a prisoner.” The accusation spills out of him, sharp and hot.

"Charles," Lehnsherr says in dry acknowledgement. “A moment, if you would.”

He doesn't like the familiarity of his name as it curls across the other man's tongue.

Lehnsherr gentles the horse--who’d begun to flick its tail nervously at the commotion--and gestures off to the side. It’s only then that Charles sees the dark-haired woman beside him. She's much smaller than the man who just left, so much so that he failed to notice her. She doesn’t seem to be an alpha, but her dress is looser, freer than that he would expect of betas or omegas. Lehnsherr picks up the interrupted conversation, imparting a few more words; likely some kind of instructions. She gives a brief reply, perhaps an affirmative, and darts a curious glance at Charles before slipping off back through the camp—possibly following the path of the man who just left, but he doesn’t turn to look.

Lehnsherr watches her go for a moment. "Now then,” he says, sparing Charles a mere glance as he turns back to the horse, a mare with a silver-studded bridle—probably not his, “what was it you wanted?"

“I won’t be confined to a tent,” he repeats. Anger still colours the words, but of a more controlled sort, his initial outburst steadying to composed censure now that his displeasure has been given breath.

When Lehnsherr looks up at him, his eyes are shaded, obscuring his expression and any hint of whether he’s surprised or displeased by Charles’ outburst.

“For your protection, I assure you,” he says with a wry twist of his mouth. “I was concerned about you wandering around on your own in the midst of such unsatisfied men.”

Though it's seemingly said in humour, Lehsherr’s voice carries an acerbic note to it, as if to remind Charles that it was he himself who had forestalled that satisfaction by leading the omegas and beta women out of the city.

He ignores the warning in the twist of the other man’s words. “You’ve no right to keep me.” It’s a foolish statement to make. Even had he not the conqueror’s right to do as he pleased, then the right surely falls to Lehnsherr as his husband-to-be.

Lehnsherr tugs the lead to check it’s secured to the tree and steps suddenly away from his horse—and into Charles' space. Charles feels his pulse pick up, despite himself, not sure what to expect.

Were they commoners, it might appear to be the close conference of a newly-engaged couple; young lovers tentative in their newfound intimacy or drawn together by the animal urges of youth, like the amorous shepherds sung about in the bawdier ballads. But for people of their station such marriages do not exist. Marriages are made for political reasons, not romantic ones, and whatever else may lie between them Lehnsherr’s gesture denotes not intimacy but a desire to shield their conversation from those around them—the scattered remnants of his guard and runners scurrying back and forth—and most of all, a power play. To lean back would be to cede ground, so despite Lehnsherr's uncomfortable closeness, Charles stands firm.

“In the past day you’ve proven yourself more capable than my top generals combined." The words slip silkily from Lehnsherr's tongue in almost an accusation as he fixes Charles with a piercing stare. He notes Lehnsherr’s arm where it hangs loosely, aligned with but not quite touching his. It burns with the potential to grab his wrist and close the final distance between them--in violence or in something else.

“Beyond that,” the other man continues, “you've all too readily shown that your loyalty lies with your people. I would be a fool to ignore the evidence I am presented with and underestimate you."

Charles feels a burst of regret, then, at the necessity of showing his hand and drawing Lehnsherr’s scrutiny—though never at its result—while at the same time he's somewhat relieved that Lehnsherr had confined him in order to protect himself, and not in demonstration of his beliefs on the place of spouses.

His point made Lehnsherr steps back, leaving a gap in the space where he stood, and returns to the horse. He grabs a coil of rope hanging from a nearby branch and begins to fashion a hitch, when Charles’ mind suddenly catches up to what he’s seeing.

"What are you doing?"

With an efficient tug, Lehnsherr finishes tying the hitch, securing an oilskin bag to the saddle.

“Leaving.”

“Leaving?” For a split second Charles imagines he means the island; withdrawing to the longships and departing, leaving the shores of England bloodied and battered behind them—before reality catches up with him. Such an undertaking would require the disassembling of the entire camp, yet the preparations around him suggest a smaller party, a group of men, only. His hopes raised deflate once again, dropping back into the reality of the present moment.

“Yes,” Lensherr continues, unaware of his brief flight of fancy. “It's what I summoned you to tell you. We’ll be married when I return.”

“Why, what’s happened?” He ignores the latter point in favour of more pressing concerns.

Lehnsherr doesn’t respond right away. He seems to be considering whether or not to tell him. He holds out a hand in gesture, and a man, one of Charles' guards, offers over the casket from the tent. Charles very deliberately does not look at it, wondering if Lehnsherr will be able to tell that it's been disturbed, will notice the missing vellum.

“I've received report of a disturbance near Eoforwic," the other man says at last, relenting. "I’m heading off to investigate.”

A disturbance...what could it be? What force in the land would dare to rebel? He now sees the reason for Lehnsherr’s hesitation. Regardless of the distance to Eoforwic, Charles’ actions have certainly marked him out as a suspect. But one thing Charles knows for sure...

“I’m coming with you,” he asserts confidently. “And beyond that, I’ll need my men back to accompany me.”

“I’ve just told you I can’t trust you, Xavier,--” he starts at in suprise his family name -- “what makes you think I would ever allow that?" Hardness and wariness are the dominant notes in Lehnsherr’s tone, yet they make way, in part, for exasperation and a hint of something further—humour, even admiration at his daring, and, unmissable now that he knows it’s there, the faintest undercurrent of desire. Lehnsherr has relaxed his barriers, perhaps; or else he is starting to be able to read the other man. He can use this.

“If you don’t trust me, wouldn’t you rather I was somewhere you could watch me?”

“And your men?” the other’s amusement is such that Charles can hear the implied finish...how are you going to justify them?

“You yourself have just told me that you keep a dangerous company. Who better than my own men to protect me?" His tone offers a hint of challenge. "Call it a demonstration of good faith, a show of Danish spousal respect,” he adds, recalling Lehnsherr’s words the previous night. Bold, but he thinks he can get away with it. “Furthermore, I’ll need to fetch my travelling clothes.”

Lehnsherr looks at him, now, with a calculating stare, as though he’s weighing his options carefully. His blue eyes appear quite grey in the afternoon light.

“No,” he says at last, tone firm. “I’ll let you send someone to the city for your things. But that’s it.”

Charles opens his mouth to object.

“If it’s so important to you to be near your men,” Lehnsherr presses on before he can utter a word, “you’re welcome to stay here with them.”

The glint in the man’s eye is the equivalent of a victorious grin on his reserved countenance, and Charles closes his mouth, accepting the temporary defeat.

He submits once again to the escorts when Lehnsherr gestures them back over and directs them curtly in Danish. Their presence no longer chafes as much, having tested Lehnsherr’s limits and found some slack. If he’s caught now in Lehnsherr’s grasp, there’s give; and if he’s careful enough, strategic enough, he can use it in order to wriggle free.

…

Going through the camp a second time, Charles notices what he should have seen sooner: the signs of a journey in the making. The camp is buzzing with potential, like a dragonfly touching down on the water, its surface thrumming with tension. As they walk he sees a few more of those he assumes are beta women and omegas, moving with the camp’s rhythms. There’s even a child or two, ducking into tents and scampering underfoot.

The guarded tent they are approaching is a familiar sight. This particular tent is big, large enough to require the support of a central wooden pole that shoots up towards the sky. A place for meetings, likely, or even dry goods storage.

“Be quick about it,” the group's leader says sharply when they stop outside. She's a female alpha, demonstrable, as Northern custom dictates, from the braided sash she wears across her shoulders. With the tinge of red in her hair she might remind him of his daughter, were it not for her lethally sharpened teeth.

He wonders if her keenness to hurry him along is based on an explicit order from Lehnsherr, or if she’d just prefer not to waste time watching him. Whatever the case, he's relieved to note that her instructions don't seem to extend to surveillance, and he’s free to duck in under the canvas flap alone, stepping into the muted light of the tent.

There's a moment of hesitation at first, as the tent’s occupants attempt to identify the intruder, and then a voice calls out, “M'Lord!” and the title spreads through the tent’s close quarters. As his eyes adjust from the brightness of the day outside, the shapes of his men, his formal escort of the day before, emerge. They snap to a semblance of attention, those seated scrambling to stand even as he waves them to rest. They look bored, restless, but other than that, fairly well.

The tent floor is unlined, sparsely sprouted with grass that’s gradually giving way under the churn of feet, and he can see little in the way of what they might have used to pad or warm their sleep. But there are much worse ways to pass a night, and such conditions certainly shouldn’t have troubled the hardened warriors Logan had selected. The most offensive thing in the space is the strong stench coming from the bucket in a corner.

He gets this all in a quick glance, holding off on further assessment: he has a task to complete. Acknowledging their bows with a tilt of his head, he passes through the group, seeking his commander, and finds him leaned up against the tent’s central pillar.

“Logan---what on earth?--”

The man’s left eye is a bloodied, bruised mess. A split in the skin near his temple oozes blood, most of it drying or tacky; and besides the purple bruises raging like a storm across his face, the white of the injured eye is inflamed with the red of burst blood vessels.

With evident difficulty, he attempts to stand, pushing off the pole to support himself as Charles rushes forward to stop him.

“Stay down, please!”

He settles a bit as Logan somewhat complies, not so much lowering himself as collapsing back into the pole. Logan’s eyes, both the bruised and the normal, are active, taking Charles in as though seeking assurance that he remains unharmed. The last time the other man saw him, Charles realizes, he was dragged off by Lehnsherr’s guards to uncertain fate. He senses Logan struggling with the desire to question him about what’s occurred--prevented, Charles suspects, partly because as Charles’ subordinate it’s not his place to ask. But more, perhaps, because no matter the answer there’s not a thing he can do about it. While Logan’s not up to questioning, however, Charles certainly is.

“What happened to you? Who did this?”

“It’s nothin’. Probably had it coming.”

Logan’s brusque reply prompts an imperious eyebrow, which yields a few more words of explanation: "Got a little worked up is all.”

It’s bullshit and they both know it.

The two stare stubbornly at each other, at a standoff. While Logan is fiercely loyal, and would never withhold something of strategic use or relevance, obdurate man that he is, Charles thinks with mixed emotion, he would certainly keep something back if he felt in doing so he was protecting Charles.

Charles examines Logan’s face carefully, the desire to know warring with external pressures. At first glance his injury seems to be mostly superficial, but his hunched posture and stiff movement suggest damage that extends beyond his face. And yet he may not have much time here, who knows how long the guards’ patience will last? Logan’s looking back at him like he knows it, too.

Reluctantly, he lets it go, but not without shooting Logan a warning glance to signal that they will discuss it later.

“I need someone who can take a message.” He can’t send Logan, now. Were he in shape to make the journey, his injuries would attract unnecessary attention—though the choice of his commander would have been suspicious, regardless, for such a trivial task.

"Alex."

"Alex. Which one is he?” Charles asks, scanning the assembled group.

“Over there,” Logan offers. “Far side. Blond kid, skinny.”

Charles looks over and catches sight of the youth that Logan means. He’s younger than most of the men and seems somewhat scrawny, not strong enough to have joined the honour guard, but perhaps that's why Logan selected him: he is unlikely to be seen as a threat by any of Lehnsherr’s men guarding the gates. Then, once he’s in, he will pass through the city relatively unnoticed.

He nods and briefly claps a hand on Logan’s shoulder in thanks, communicating in the wordless language that is their shorthand both the reassurance of a commanding officer and the support and gratitude of a friend, and goes to find Alex.

As he passes near it, the flap at the tent’s entrance flutters—doubtless a signal from one of his guards telling him to hurry up. Drawing close to the membrane, he calls out in his most regal tone, “I’m not yet finished,” and hopes it will appease them for a few more moments.

He stops before the young man Logan had pointed out.

“Alex.”

“Sir! Your Highness.” He ducks his head, as though slightly awed at being addressed, and only Charles’ firm hand on his shoulder keeps him from jumping to his feet. He looks a bit peaked. Charles crouches down to speak to him which will serve better to hide what passes between them, even from the rest of the tent.

“Have you all been fed?” he asks first. It’s something Logan certainly would have concealed, should the answer be negative.

“Yes, your Grace—I mean, your Highness—”

“Good.” Charles says, cutting off any further attempts at formalities. “Now, listen to me. I’m sending you on a mission of the utmost importance. I need to know that you can follow my instructions exactly.”

Alex nods, his eyes widening at the seriousness of the task with which he is to be entrusted.

“I need you to go into town. I’m sending you under the guise of retrieving some items from the keep, which you’ll do as well, but more importantly I need you to arrange to have this message passed on. There’s a person in the village, Roz, white hair. You’ll find them in the Blacksmith’s forge. It’s vital that you deliver this to them."

He slides the paper, the letter written in Lehnsherr’s tent, free from his sleeve. “They’ll know where to send it.”

The letter is for his children. Despite the promise of their safety he'd extracted from Lehnsherr their position remains precarious; worse, if he can't find a way to let Raven know what has happened. Before she took the children to safety Charles impressed on her that should she not hear from him within two month’s time, she was to assume the worst: that the negotiations had failed and he was dead, and was to flee with the children out of the reach of the assassins would likely follow. Lehnsherr will have spies in and around Normandy, and now that they've come to an agreement would likely read Raven’s flight as a sign of Charles' treachery—that he was moving his children to safety before striking back. He's not sure that he fully trusts Lehnsherr's promise, but fleeing again now is the surest way to get them all killed. Thus: the letter. Phrased tersely, it instructs Raven to remain in place. It's not exactly treason, but taken in the wrong hands, it could easily, perhaps willfully, be misunderstood, and so demands utmost secrecy.

Charles reaches into the folds of his tunic and draws out Sebastian’s seal, which also he presses into Alex’s hands. Since he couldn’t risk signing it, the letter will require another form of authentication.

"Hold this separate and send it with the letter,” he instructs. “If anyone sees it before then, tell them it is for the guards at my chamber, to allow passage. Can you do that?”

“Yes, sir.” The look in Alex’s eyes, which resolves from uncertainty into determination, affirms for Charles that Logan suggested the right man. “I will guard it with my life.”

This most important task secured, Charles takes a moment to consider something else.

“Alex,” he says, hesitating only slightly, “what happened to the commander?”

There’s a reluctant pause, as the other almost squirms under his gaze.

“They were provoking him....saying things about you, Your Highness, about your character.” He looks embarrassed and this, if anything, confirms Charles’ suspicion that Alex is a new recruit. Embarrassment and shyness don’t last long in the company of warriors.

Charles looks back at him expectantly, silently prompting him to continue.

“That is...about you and Lehnsherr...and the things you might be getting up to...together…”

Ah.

While Alex hadn’t managed to finish the sentence, the redness in his cheeks makes his meaning unmistakable.

Even knowing the tenor of what was most likely said, Charles is too weary to bother to muster up embarrassment or indignation. Especially not when it’s so close to the truth.

“I see,” he says, realizing he has one important task left to fulfill. And then: “Don't forget your commission. Lives beyond mine rest in your hands.”

Once Alex gives his solemn confirmation, Charles rises and makes his way to the front of the tent; waits until he has the group’s attention.

“I thank you all for your service and loyalty,” he begins, pitching his voice to carry, so all of his men can hear. The faces of the hardened warriors looking back at him are defeated, set with grim expectation in place of hope. The fact that he’s addressing them at all is indicative of how far they’ve fallen. When the battles were still raging their orders were conducted through Logan, a matter of practicality that also allowed those of them (of whom he’s sure there are many, even here among Logan’s chosen) who respected him only as Shaw’s consort the pretense that Charles was not in charge.

“I’m working to secure your release, but in the meantime, I’m sure you all want to know where things stand.” He swallows, clears his throat. “An accord has been reached. Erik Lehnsherr has promised to honour the treaty and guarantee the lives of the citizens. Your families should be safe.” He hesitates on the final words, not quite wanting to speak them into being; as though this moment, insignificant though it is, marks the point of no return. “And to seal the bargain...I am to marry him.”

The news should be comforting. The marriage will afford the Saxons another layer of protection; much more than they had before. And yet there’s much resentment towards the Danes over the violence they have wrought, the Saxon lives they’ve taken, and the air is clouded with mixed feelings. This union, advantageous though it may prove to be, forever ties the Saxons to their enemies in the final sign of their defeat.

While Charles surveys the assembled men, there’s one area of the tent he can’t bring himself to look, to the one man who won’t find much comfort in the knowledge that any outrages done onto Charles will be overwritten, any stains on his honour restored by marriage. He doesn’t want to meet Logan’s gaze, for fear of what he’ll find there. Anger, maybe. Accusation; pity. Or perhaps, most painful of all, the loss of something that never could have been.

The fabric near the tent opening flutters again, this time with more impatience. Somewhat relieved at the chance to duck out from under those eyes, both seen and unseen, he moves back through the flap to scold his overhasty guard.

“Yes, what is it?” he demands, falling back on imperious, “I told you--” ...I’d be a few minutes. The words die in his throat as he almost bumps into the man waiting outside the tent.

It’s not one of his minders. For a split second he entertains the absurd notion that he’s nearly walked into a bear; until he looks up and realizes it’s a large man wearing a bear cloak, the man’s barrel chest before him covered in the cloak’s thick fur. His gaze travels further up to a heavy brow, banded by widows’ peaks. Masses of unkempt hair sprout from the man’s head, separated only by several braids, dotted throughout, which are threaded with what seem to be teeth. It takes him a moment, overwhelmed by the man’s presence, to realize he’s seen him before. This morning, talking to Lehnsherr. Angry.

“Your Highness.”

The title on the bear-man’s lips is not sardonic like it is on Lehnsherr’s, or histrionically obsequious like Azazel’s. Nor skittish as on Alex’s. But hard, flat, and raw, as though he’s chewing the words and spitting them out. While preserving the physical distance between them, he looks Charles over in a way that feels as intimate and violating as unwanted touch.

“Lehnsherr may be willing to forgive,” the man says, “he’s long scorned our ways. But I know it was you who robbed us of our rightful spoils.”

Spoils. The word sends a chill up Charles’ spine, knowing he’s not talking of treasured objects.

“You’re a pretty little bitch, aren’t you?” the man continues. Despite vitriol of the words, he maintains an impassive, solemn countenance, his expression fixed except for his mouth, which now twists up into a sneer. “Pretty enough that he spared you. But if I were Lehnsherr I would have stuck my cock in you and gutted you while I was still inside you. Then fucked you until your screams died away.”

The afternoon light barely reaches the shaded side of the tent, and darkens farther in the man’s gaze, seeming almost to vanish into it. His yellow eyes glitter, burning like the dense centres of coals in a brazier. And swallowing all the light.

…

----

And 5000 years later, here’s an update. Hopefully the next one will not be so long.

To anyone still hanging around, thanks so much for reading and for putting up with my shameless misappropriation of history for personal edification! Apparently this fic now has shades of Xavierine, which is akasanata and gerec’s fault!

#cherik #viking au #historical au #Charles Xavier #Erik Lehnsherr #x-men #subtle a/b/o #cherik fic #brawlingdiscontent #twtbg #not happy with this part #but time to move on and edit later #encomium carolis regis

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awackyphdinadorkable · 6 years ago

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Cherik Moodboard: Mr. and Mr. Xavier

Note: This is based on a post I did a while back whereby I let you know that this AU continues to be on my mind a lot. Thus, I share some of the context with you now. I hope you don’t mind. :)

Charles and Erik Xavier, by all accounts, are the perfect couple. They have a beautiful house on the outskirt of New York, both have well-paid jobs, and they are a delight at every dinner party.

Now married for five to six years, first cracks start to show in that otherwise so perfect exterior. It’s the little things, like who pulls into the parking lot first or whose turn it is to take out the trash, that continue to cause friction between the two men.

... And of course the small inconvenience that comes with their actual time-consuming jobs.

Because, as a matter of fact, Charles Xavier and nee Erik Lehnsherr are both secret agents – mutant secret agents. While Erik can control metal, Charles has the ability to control minds. And they use those abilities for their job as spies exclusively, as per the treaties they both had to sign in the beginning of their careers.

Yet, it is not just the public that doesn’t know about their actual occupations – because both are unaware of each other’s actual job and apparent special ability.

Things take a sudden turn when the two are assigned the same case, which forces Charles and Erik into the painful realization that their domestic life was not what either one believed it to be.

Both feeling threatened and seeing their lives in jeopardy, it seems to be without alternative that either one tries to “take care of business” to move on with life, even if that means getting rid of some domestic baggage, including some curtains.

The confrontation in their home is thus inevitable, which results in the two men fighting one another with all that they have – and exchange some very unkind words about their failed marriage.

Things escalate until, at last, they have each other at gunpoint, one with a metal gun, one with a plastic gun, only to look into the eyes of the reality that their perfect marriage, by all accounts, is done for.

“I think it’s time for the divorce, Charles.”

To his great shock, his husband drops the weapon at this, raising his hands. “I don’t want to play this game anymore, Erik.”

“This is no game to me, trust me.”

No, most certainly not. Erik has one target that ever made him join this organization – to find and kill Sebastian Shaw. And no one, not even Charles Xavier, the husband Erik thought he would spend the rest of his life with, will keep him from it.

“If you want to kill me, kill me. I am not playing anymore.”

“Damn you, Charles! Now don’t play dirty and pick the gun back up!”

“I am not playing dirty, I am no longer playing. If you want to shoot me, go ahead. Because I can’t do this. Not ever. Not to you.”

As it turns out, Erik can’t do it either. As much as he is driven by his wish to find Shaw, as much as he feels betrayed by the one man he thought would always tell him the truth, Erik loves his husband too much to add him to his list of targets.

Apparently, the feeling is mutual, which makes their trashed house soon a battlefield of another kind. The bliss of their reconciliation and first attempts of getting to know the men they each married is short-lived, though.

When their house blows up, Erik and Charles know one thing for certain – their agencies have abandoned them and are now considering them a threat.

Confronted with the choice of going separate ways, which would have better chances of success, and staying together, which may very well mean their deaths, the two decide to stick together.

“After all, we both once said till death do part us, right?”

Charles and Erik piece together that Sebastian Shaw was their shared target on the mission where they discovered each other’s true identity. The exposed secret agents pose a threat to the organizations’ individual plans for Shaw – and they are easy to get rid of agents who became inconvenient.

However, that may present the one opportunity for Erik and Charles to at least convince the organizations to leave them alone – they have to find Sebastian Shaw. There is no other way.

While both make an effort to work as a team, the fractured trust between the two is put to the test as they continue their quest of finding this most powerful mutant.

Revelations, admissions, threats, and colorful cursing are the least of their problems as they continue to race against time, hoping that there is, in fact, a place between rage and serenity where both can get to know their spouses anew.

And if that doesn’t work, there is always marriage counseling…

#cherik #charles x erik #charles xavier #erik lehnsherr #cherik au #x men #fanfic #in smol #mr. and mrs. smith au #this is fun

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noxobscuraa · 6 years ago

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cherik fic recs

“Falling” // by deadoralive0013 on ao3

WRITER’S SUMMARY :

Charles is a writer for a magazine, dreaming of publishing his own novel. His editor, the famous Emma Frost, sees potential in him but they both found out that Charles can write everything except one crucial thing: a love story. Following her advice, Charles undergoes a little social experiment to “get out more” and starts to frequent a bar every Saturday nights in the hopes of finding a woman.

That is where he finally meets someone, after 3 months, a man called Erik Lehnsherr.

Cover art by the talented and generous avictoriangirl. Thank you so much!! <3

EXCERPT :

Charles stopped dead in his tracks. In front of his building was Erik’s black car, standing out like a sore thumb in his neighborhood. Half his mind was telling him to turn back around and run away while the other half leap in excitement. His heart was beating faster and before he knew it, he was marching up to the elevator.

When the doors parted for him on the fifth floor to reveal the deserted corridor, he was even more nervous. He quickly walked to his door and unlocked it, wearily looking around the room as he switched the lights on and stepped in.

MY OPINION :

This is honestly, probably my actual favorite cherik fic. It is the most angsty and realistic modern romance rendition of cherik. This writer took their (again unaware of their pronoun) own spin for the characters without their powers. Erik is a successful, sexy player, who sees Charles and instantly becomes obsessed and in love, and has problems with intimacy. Charles is a virgin and a dedicated, nerdy writer, who has layers of walls up and does not believe in love. Together this genre would be described as a buddy love film.

There are scenes that are for mature readers and are pretty steamy. So whether you do not want that or really do, there it is. This fic has it but in a tasteful manner that helps the plot move forward, which is also something I find very important.

Be warned though... it has 11 out of 12 chapters done. It has been unfinished for years, and I am SUFFERING because I NEED to know how it ends. It is in fact driving me crazy, BUT it is so worth it. The emotional turmoil and the character backgrounds so well developed and integrated into the story naturally. So much angst. Please give it a read.

#recs #my fav accounts #ao3 #ao3fic #cherik #x-men #cherik fic #fic rec #fluff #angst #charles xavier #erik lehnsherr

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bocje-ce-ustu · 7 years ago

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2, 10, 18?

Thank you, dear!! 💜

2. Talk about three of the most important ships throughout your life.

1. Well first place must go to Holmes/Watson that - back in ‘09 or so - hijacked my existence (yes, I’m looking at you, RDJ!). Specifically Ritchie!Holmes&Watson (who are so wildly different from ACD!Holmes&Watson and so wonderful in their own way) drew me to the canon and then to Russian!Holmes (bless Watson from the old Russian series, you unbelievable cutiepie) and to Sherlock and Elementary (which has the best characterization I’ve ever seen for these two characters).As it is, I ship most versions of Holmes/Watson except for BBC!Holmes&Watson, whose writers’ growing obnoxiousness also kinda made me fall out of love with the series altogether, and Elementary!Holmes&Watson, whose friendship is exceptionally well defined (also only Elementary managed to actually sell me a believable Holmes/Adler dynamic. Kudos).Holmes/Watson was also probably one of the first, if not the first, ship for which I tried to write fic in English (it turned out real bad).

2. Cherik gave me the courage to step forward and post my first English-written fic on AO3! In summer 2015 I fell hard for that angst pit that DoFP is, and here I am, three years later, still sobbing about these two idiots (and not only them).

3. I could talk about Stony (again, RDJ, stahp!) or Merthur (which I believe got me on AO3 in the first place, because LOADED MARCH! That fic series is gold) or SasuNaru or LeoPika from HunterXHunter (which also explains lots about why I also ship Lamen, come to think of it), but I won’t.Let’s talk about Zarif and Edward from Cave Cruciatum instead, ‘cause these two dorks brought me to Tumblr and I. Still. Love. Them. So. Damn. Much! The webcomic series about them is unfortunately on hiatus, but I’ve been thinking about them for five years (and counting) since they took my heart and crushed it with their adorableness and really really bad luck. (And a part of me still holds onto the hope of seeing more of their story someday *clutches chest*).

10. Do you ship any characters that have never met?

I don’t think I do (at least I can’t remember shipping anything like it). Usually I need to see some chemistry between characters to feel drawn to a ship.

18. Talk about a moment which made you question an entire ship.

Erik Lehnsherr makes me question Cherik in Every. Single. Frame. He’s. In. He’s like, he just has a terrible way of showing he cares, I guess. :D One thing that got me quite bad was how Erik was apparently on board with Apocalypse’s plan of taking Charles’s body as a host…? I mean, he was probably in shock through most of it, but it was still heartbreaking to see his indifference/unawareness until the very end.40 Questions - Meme for Shippers

#ask meme #memes #meme for shippers #akasanata #ask

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another-chorus-girl · 8 years ago

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“Erik House” Chapter 1

So this turned into a thing thanks to my fellow phan friends on Discord. And so here it is. What if all of the past incarnations of Erik resided together after their stories concluded? These are their stories *DUN DUN*

It was an average, peaceful day of bliss in the busy, bustling city of Paris. And in the large house just on the outskirts off the city of lights, there was also busy bustling around.

The very spacious parlour room was filled with several very curious, disgruntled, and somewhat confused men. Three of the six sofas were occupied by many similarly dressed men, all of which wore white half masks on their faces and short dark hair slicked back.

On an opposing sofa was a man dressed head to toe in all black, his brown hair pulled back in a ponytail, the signs of scarring exposed despite holding a scarf protectively over the majority of his face. The one sitting adjacent to him wore a skin tight black suit, and a large silver helmet on his head. To his right a younger man with red hair, and mask concealing all but a mouthpiece. His hands clasped uncomfortably in his lap as his gaze darted about the room.

Another man walked in to the parlour, his state of dress quite immaculate in a dark aristocratic suit. Like the crowd of white masked men, the newcomer had a half mask though not as large as theirs.

Looking around the room, seeing the other seats already taken, he walked over as they chatted amongst themselves.

"Is this seat taken?" He asked as suddenly the Meriks conversation died upon his presence.

Some stared, others glared, and a few chose to simply ignore Gerik.

"Sorry, it's taken" Panaro scowled draping his legs over the unaccompanied spot.

Sensing he was unwanted Gerik decided wisely to back away and take a spot by the wall near the entryway. Gerik turned to his left, noticing a tall man clothed in black, propping a foot against the wall, his hands clasped together. He wore a small cap on his head and had on a mask that concealed his whole face, his dark eyes being the only distinguishing feature.

Suddenly a door fell open with a slam, silencing all conversation. Coming up the stairs, a lone figure entered the parlour. He wore a full black mask over his face, golden eyes scanning the room of gentlemen. His suit was simple yet elegant. Taking a seat in an armchair, after shooing away an estranged long haired man from the seat, he cleared his throat.

"Good evening monsieurs," Erik addressed them, "Now I-"

He was interrupted as one last man entered the room with haste.

"A thousand apologies for my lateness," He mumbled, and took a seat beside Panaro whom removed his feet from the vacant spot.

"Thanks," Kerik smirked, the Merik either unaware or ignoring his gaze.

"As. I. Was. Saying." Erik scowled from behind his mask. "I understand this is going to be a strange arrangement. And I understand not all of us will get along. But you ALL will see to it that order stays within this house."

Raising a hand, indicating to the Meriks.

"As you lot are already aware, thanks to Monsieur Lloyd Webber there are too many of you to confide to a few rooms. So naturally the second floor is yours to organize as you must between yourselves."

"Already being taken care of Monsieur Fantome," Crawford assured, Karimloo and Panaro also nodding in agreement.

"See that it is." Erik advised, "I also expect to be undisturbed. Which means my chambers. Off. Limits."

Standing after his brief speech he made his leave, but just before departing into the basement snapped his head back.

"And YOU!" Pointing a long bony finger at Jerik, "Keep those vermin out or you stay out."

Jerik mumbled something along the lines of "my rats" whilst clutching said furry creature to his chest protectively.

Erik scoffed, disgusted this man shared any connection with his character. Taking his leave, he shut the door behind him as the others heard the footsteps fade.

All at once they scattered.

"Must keep them safe. Keep he rats safe," Jerik mumbled nervously running off with haste.

"What in Faust's name is his problem?" Destler asked adjusting the scarf over his face. "I thought I was suppose to be the grotesque one."

Cherik fidgeted uncomfortably and scooted away from Destler to go up to his room. It was not his dreamery, but the redhead would make do.

The Meriks stood and herded up the stairwell.

"I say! No pushing gentlemen!" Crawford shouted. "And before you all disperse we need to have a little meeting of our own!"

The horde of black suited men finally leaving the stairs vacant, Gerik sighed staring up at them. While the Meriks had the entire second floor. He was up on the third floor with the likes of Jerik-whom likely wouldn't bother using the room if his rats were barred entry-and another vacant but reserved room. It was a mystery as to who it was for as he had thought everyone had already arrived at the house. Cherik, Lerik, Winslow, and Destler were located on the main floor, just a hallway down from the parlour. Destler had seem to vanish from where he was just sitting, the others imagined the scarred man would be as recluse as Erik and thought it best to stay out of his way. The other three men scuttled to their respective lodgings.

One floor above the Meriks were all gathered in a room similar to the parlour downstairs, all of them scrutinising the layout.

"Need to cover those windows."

"More candelabras"

"I suppose your going to ask for a fog machine too, right?"

"Why ever not?!"

All the sudden the men turned hearing a sharp whistle.

Panaro took his fingers away from his lips, successful in grabbing their attention.

"Much obliged," Crawford nodded to Panaro. "Now I know we all heard Monsieur Fantome's speech just a moment ago so we will keep this brief."

Turning to Karimloo, giving the fellow Phantom the floor.

"The three of us have set up a layout for where all of us stand on this floor. And yes, this room is rather eccentric for my taste as well."

"That sounds splendid!" Lewis chirped in, "Even the manager's office wasn't as stuffy as this"

"Quite," Jones agreed.

"One question monsieurs. What is HE doing here?" Warlow asked, pointing an accusing finger. The man whom he questioned stuck out like a sore thumb compared to the others. For one he wore a larger metallic mask over his face of peculiar design. And while some of the Meriks adorned fedoras and sequined capes, this mans was overly large and had an inner red liner.

"What?" Harley questioned.

"You weren't even in the show!" Panaro scowled

"I almost was," He defended, scowling at Crawford whom didn't seem to comprehend the vengeful look. "I feel I have a right to be here."

"Yes. And no." Suddenly the Meriks turned, seeing Erik standing in the doorway. "I failed to notice you skulk in earlier which is why I am here now."

"W-What do you mean yes and no?" Harley asked. "I was all lined up for this role!"

"But things changed." Erik's golden eyes narrowed, "However, you still adorn the mask-albeit an obscure one. You may stay on the grounds. But not in this house."

"You don't expect me to bunk with the long haired twit currently wallowing in the trash outside?" Harley asked wide eyed.

"That is your predicament to figure out, not mine. This is the first and last time you shall see me up here gentlemen."

With that the black masked man took his leave, disappearing back downstairs.

This was going to be the start of a rather fascinating living arrangement.

#poto #slightly crack hc #Erik headcanon #multiverse #Erik house AU

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awackyphdinadorkable · 6 years ago

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Cherik Moodboard: 27 Suits

This is based on one of my previous ramblings (all of which tend to clog up the tag, for which I apologize LOL) about a 27 Dresses AU. It wouldn’t leave me alone, so I ran with it a little further, and I’m making y’all suffer with me. ;)

The basic idea is that Charles is playing best man (and secret wedding planner) at most of his friends’ weddings - some of which are definitely out of the norm (underwater, while on skis, mafia-themed weddings, all the way to animal print all over the place). Erik is a journalist wanting to get into investigative journalism to finally have a chance to talk about mutant rights violations instead of handling the Commitments section of his newspapers.

Stuck on yet another stupid wedding (he hates them with a burning passion for a number of reasons), one of the guests catches his eye because he realizes the man is rushing off to another wedding and drives back and forth with a taxi, always getting changed back and forth in the back of the cab.

Charles, as per usual, is the BEST best man, talking a nervous bride through a near breakdown, saying just the right things to a wedding planner who mislaid his seating plan, telling him all he needs to know to get back on track. However, despite his perfect performance, Charles does not possess the power of foresight, which is why he is knocked out cold by an eager bridesmaid trying to catch the flower bouquet.

Erik, the gentleman he is, takes care of things and offers Charles a ride home. Charles gratefully accepts. The two enjoy a pleasant conversation, though their differing views about weddings become clear rather fast. Charles is an enthusiast, and quite vocal about it, whereas Erik would rather be anywhere else than a wedding reception ever again, if he could help it. Charles forgets his notebook - where he meticulously puts down notes on all weddings he went to and intends to help with in the future. Erik can’t believe it as he reads through the planner on his way back home. That man must be some wedding addict.

However, it is not just his interest that is piqued at this - Erik hopes that this may be his ticket out of the Commitments and into Serious Journalism. When he proposes a segment on this strange best man, his editor in chief agrees under the condition that he will keep working on the next big section he is supposed to handle - for the wedding of Raven Darkholme and Hank McCoy. Evidently, Erik agrees.

Though the surprise is big for both men when they suddenly run into one another - because Raven is Charles’s adopted sister. Charles, while happy to see the handsome man again, is not particularly pleased in Erik handling his sister’s Commitments section after he learned Erik’s true feelings about weddings. To top it all, he has troubles with his sister. Ever since she returned from her travels, Raven seemed changed. She announced out of the blue that she and Hank are getting married - and that quite fast, he will add - and that Charles please take care of the preparations for her. She seems so different from the girl he grew up with.

The biggest issue lies in her wish to leave Hank unaware of her true nature - because she and Charles are both mutants. She can change shape while he is a telepath, which makes him the perfect best man he is. While Charles was the one to tell Raven since a young age that they must be careful with whom they let in on their “secret,” he hoped to have made clear that he wouldn’t want her to hide herself from someone she cares about and loves deeply. Yet, Raven cannot be wavered and insists Charles plays along, so she can have her shot at normal with Hank.

Erik uses the lucky circumstance of Charles happening to have to work closely together with him for the sake of the Commitments section for his ticket-out-story. Though the closer he works together with Charles the more he has to realize that Charles is more than a sensational cover story.

As it turns out, Charles is a mutant, for one, but he is also Professor X, a man whose articles Erik devours whenever a new one is published. Professor X is one of the elite forces in the mutant rights movement, arguing with scientific reasoning to convince people of the chance of peaceful cohabitation between humankind and mutantkind. While Erik views some of those things very differently, he always felt a deep respect for that man and his ongoing fightfor their kind. And now that same man turns out to be this quirky, smiling wedding addict who uses his telepathy to guess the perfect dress for a bride or come up with the best speech a groom can give at the reception. Unbelievable.

The two continue to clash not just on their opinion regarding the merits of weddings and marriage altogether but also the situation revolving around Raven. Erik is an out-in-the-open mutant - which may or may not have made it as difficult as it is to get a firm standing in the investigative journalism section of his newspaper - and he finds it a shame that Charles is hiding himself behind the alias of Professor X and thus shouldn’t be surprised that his sister does the same.

Charles is forced into some realizations of his own, not just regarding that particular problem but also how his relationship with Raven and the people he lets close to him is affected by his fear of being himself, that is being a telepath in the open and not constantly restraining himself whenever it is asked or using them when it is convenient for others.

However, it is not just Charles who is forced into some introspection, since Erik finally has someone in Charles he trusts enough to open up to about his true reasons for detesting weddings. They all remind him of the family he lost because of peoples’ prejudices against mutants. And yet, Charles’s hope and perspective start to make Erik see that there is more to silky dresses and flower arrangements, that it is about the promise made, and celebrating it with close friends and family.

It’s about no longer being alone.

Animosity turns to admiration turns to amorousness after a particular situation involving a broken down car, a shabby bar, and a lot of heavy rain drenching them both to the bone.

However, drama strikes soon when Erik tries to withdraw his article, which would have put Charles and Raven in a light Erik knows would not reflect them at all, but his editor in chief goes ahead anyway. Charles finds out from reading the article, absolutely mortified.

For Charles, it doesn’t end there, however, as he has a slip-up in front of Hank, and thus exposes not just himself but most importantly Raven as mutants, which ultimately fractures the relationship between the two and threatens to end Raven’s marriage before it ever truly began.

And how it all concludes? Who knows? (Okay, I know, but I am not spoilering LOL).

#cherik #charles x erik #charles xavier #erik lehnsherr #cherik au #x men au

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