#Xavier has a heart of gold

[waviermylove]

credit to the lovely @what-the-effie :)

In this scene where Tyler Galpin deliberately scratched himself in the chest and then proceeded to make a scene, Xavier used his own scarf to cover up the gash. which was a total waste

Wednesday placed her hands over Xavier’s.

Then she looked up at him, surprised. Wednesday was aware of the bitter history shared between the two boys, how Tyler and his goons had assaulted Xavier and destroyed his mural.

For a split second, Wednesday looked doubtful of her own suspicions of Xavier being the Hyde. Xavier didn’t need to help Tyler, his tormentor at all. Yet for some reason, he still did. Can a true monster be capable of such an act of kindness?

[starikune]

Tag Dump Part 2.

[xvysarene]

𝔹𝕖𝕤𝕥 𝕠𝕗 𝕎𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕟

Pairing: LADS Men (All 5) x Fem!Reader Prompt: The moment they realise they want to spend their whole life with you Words: ~1.3k || 200-300 per LI Genre: Fluff, Comfort, Established relationship A/N: Highly recommend giving Urban Zakapa's "Nearness is to love" a listen to capture the mood! I need to be love like this smh

[ᝰ.ᐟ MASTERLIST]

⊱ 𝕏𝕒𝕧𝕚𝕖𝕣

Xavier has always wondered why he willingly abandons a good slumber and ignores the sting and soreness in his body just to see your face after every challenging mission.

“𝐷𝘰 𝑦𝘰𝑢 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝘵 𝑚𝑒 𝘵𝘰 𝑐𝘰𝘰𝑘 𝑦𝘰𝑢 𝑠𝘰𝑚𝑒𝘵ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑒𝑙𝑠𝑒?”

The lines of concern etched on your forehead deepen when he hasn't touched the porridge, all while swiftly checking to ensure you haven’t missed tending to any of his injuries.

He realises then, that you opening the door after the first knock, with a home-cooked meal waiting for him even before the first rays of dawn, is why he always seeks you out first.

This is the person he wants to witness a lifetime of sunrises with, the one he never wants to see weighed down by worry due to his line of work.

Words fail him, so he gathers you in his arms. Revelling in the way your body moulds perfectly against his.

“𝐼 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝘵 𝑛𝑒𝑒𝑑 𝑦𝘰𝑢 𝑐𝑙𝘰𝑠𝑒.”

“𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑛𝑒𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑒𝑓𝑢𝑙,” you chide softly, eyes flicking up to meet his.

The concern in your gaze tugs at something deep within him.

Xavier now understands what it is to be unconditionally loved—to be so genuinely cared for that someone would worry about his well-being above all else.

“𝐼 𝑝𝑟𝘰𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑒 𝘵𝘰 𝑏𝑒 𝑚𝘰𝑟𝑒 𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑒𝑓𝑢𝑙 𝑖𝑓 𝑖𝘵 𝑚𝑒𝑎𝑛𝑠 𝐼 𝑐𝑎𝑛 ℎ𝘰𝑙𝑑 𝑦𝘰𝑢 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝘵ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑒𝜈𝑒𝑟𝑦𝘵𝑖𝑚𝑒.”

Your eyes soften. “𝑌𝘰𝑢 𝑠𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑦, 𝑦𝘰𝑢 𝑑𝘰𝑛'𝘵 𝑛𝑒𝑒𝑑 𝑎𝑛𝑦 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑠𝘰𝑛 𝘵𝘰 ℎ𝘰𝑙𝑑 𝑚𝑒.”

The sensation of your fingers threading through his hair is pure heaven, and as you hold him tighter, you express that this embrace requires no further validation.

⊱ ℝ𝕒𝕗𝕒𝕪𝕖𝕝

Bathed in hues of molten gold and fiery amber, Rafayel watches you set up the dining table with his aunt and Thomas, a scene he will cherish until his very last breath.

The laughter of his favourite people mingling with the rhythmic crash of waves is music to his ears.

“𝑅𝑎𝑓, 𝑑𝘰𝑛'𝘵 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝘵 𝑠𝘵𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝘵ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒,” you call out. Tucking your hair behind your ear as the salty breeze whips strands across your face.

If only he could immortalise this scene on canvas, Rafayel muses.

But he knows that a painting would never do justice to fully conveying the true essence of this beauty.

“𝛭𝑦 𝑏𝑒𝑙𝘰𝜈𝑒𝑑, 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝐼 𝑠𝘵𝑒𝑎𝑙 𝑦𝘰𝑢 𝑓𝘰𝑟 𝑎 𝑚𝘰𝑚𝑒𝑛𝘵?” The quiver in his voice doesn’t go amiss by anyone’s notice as he approaches.

Thomas quirks a questioning brow, while his aunt's gaze softens, her smile somehow knowing as she glances between the two of you.

Normally, he would have a response ready as Thomas quips about the champagne warming, but not this time. 

Not when everything else other than you fades into insignificance.

Overwhelmed with emotion, he pulls you in a tight hug as soon as you both are away from prying eyes, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“𝑇𝑒𝑙𝑙 𝑚𝑒,” his voice barely above a whisper, “ℎ𝘰𝑤 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝐼 𝑘𝑒𝑒𝑝 𝑦𝘰𝑢 𝑓𝘰𝑟 𝑚𝑦𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓, 𝑓𝘰𝑟𝑒𝜈𝑒𝑟?”

You gently draw back and hold his cheeks, adoring the crimson spreading onto his face and ears, before murmuring tenderly against his lips, “𝑌𝘰𝑢 𝑎𝑙𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑦 ℎ𝑎𝜈𝑒.”

At that very moment, it feels as though his heart might combust.

As if every whispered longing he's ever had has come true.

⊱ ℤ𝕒𝕪𝕟𝕖

Perplexed is what Zayne always imagined he would feel—wishing to spend the rest of his life with someone is a huge commitment after all.

But now, his heart overflows with nothing but contentment and peace.

With his glasses and book perch on his lap, he attentively listens as you animatedly vent about one of your coworkers, sitting cross-legged beside him on the bed.

“...𝐼'𝑚 𝑠𝘰𝑟𝑟𝑦, 𝐼 𝑠ℎ𝘰𝑢𝑙𝑑𝑛'𝘵 ℎ𝑎𝜈𝑒 𝑟𝑎𝑚𝑏𝑙𝑒𝑑 𝘰𝑛. 𝑌𝘰𝑢 𝑚𝑢𝑠𝘵 𝑏𝑒 𝘵𝑖𝑟𝑒𝑑 𝘵𝘰𝑑𝑎𝑦.”

Zayne frowns, cursing himself as you mistaken his prolonged silence and composed demeanour for indifference.

Setting his stuff aside, he draws you closer, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead as your arms circle around him.

“𝐿𝘰𝜈𝑒, 𝐼 𝑎𝑙𝑤𝑎𝑦𝑠 𝑒𝑛𝑗𝘰𝑦 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑦𝘰𝑢 𝘵𝑎𝑙𝑘. 𝑃𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑛𝑒𝜈𝑒𝑟 𝑠𝘵𝘰𝑝 𝑠ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑦𝘰𝑢𝑟 𝘵ℎ𝘰𝑢𝑔ℎ𝘵𝑠 𝑤𝑖𝘵ℎ 𝑚𝑒.” 

A small content sigh leaves his lips as you nestle closer to him, the warmth of your embrace seeping into his very soul.

Long fingers gently stroke your hair as you voice out concern about adding to his mounting stress with your words.

“𝑌𝘰𝑢 𝑐𝘰𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑛𝑒𝜈𝑒𝑟 𝑏𝑒 𝑎 𝑏𝑢𝑟𝑑𝑒𝑛,” he murmurs, lips brushing your temple. “𝑌𝘰𝑢𝑟 𝜈𝘰𝑖𝑐𝑒 𝑖𝑠 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝘵 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒𝑠 𝑚𝑒 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙 𝑎𝘵 ℎ𝘰𝑚𝑒. 𝑌𝘰𝑢 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑒𝜈𝑒𝑟𝑦𝘵ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑏𝑒𝘵𝘵𝑒𝑟, 𝑑𝘰𝑛'𝘵 𝑒𝜈𝑒𝑟 𝘵ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑘 𝘰𝘵ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑤𝑖𝑠𝑒.”

Sometimes he wonders if he truly deserves the depth of love and understanding you provide, a treasure more valuable than any he has ever known.

He is not an easy man to love, yet you wholeheartedly embrace his complexities.

In that quiet moment, with the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the curtain, he knows with certainty that you occupy a space in his life that no one else can fill.

⊱ 𝕊𝕪𝕝𝕦𝕤

“𝑌𝘰𝑢 𝑎𝑏𝑠𝘰𝑙𝑢𝘵𝑒 𝑏𝑢𝑓𝑓𝘰𝘰𝑛!” your voice trembles with fury as you cock your gun at him. “𝑊ℎ𝘰 𝑖𝑛 𝘵ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑟𝑖𝑔ℎ𝘵 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑑 𝑤𝘰𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑤𝑎𝑙𝑘 𝑖𝑛𝘵𝘰 𝑎 𝘵𝑟𝑎𝑝 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑙𝑦? 𝑌𝘰𝑢 𝑐𝘰𝑢𝑙𝑑 ℎ𝑎𝜈𝑒 𝑑𝑖𝑒𝑑!”

Despite having just slain dozens of degenerates and currently staring down the barrel of your gun, Sylus’s head is oddly silent.

The sight of his enemies’ blood staining your clothes, your hair tousling messily from its ponytail, and the blazing intensity in your eyes—every detail captivates him completely.

Fuck him, you’re perfect.

Exasperated by his grin, you continue calling him all the names in the book: reckless idiot, brainless fool, dumbass…

But he’s your idiot.

Sylus watches your eyes widen as he closes the distance between you, your mouth opening to protest, “𝐷𝘰𝑛’𝘵 𝑦𝘰𝑢 𝑑𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑘𝑖—” but before you can finish, he discards your gun aside with alarming speed, lips crashing against yours with a fervour that matches your fury.

It’s not a gentle kiss, it’s an explosion of emotions; a release of all the anger, fear, and love that has been building up.

“𝐼’𝑚 𝑠𝘰𝑟𝑟𝑦 𝑓𝘰𝑟 𝑠𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑦𝘰𝑢,” he says breathlessly, resting his forehead against yours.

Strong hands pull you closer, and he smiles, sensing your fury starting to dissipate as you melt into his cocoon. “𝛢𝑠 𝑙𝘰𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑠 𝐼 ℎ𝑎𝜈𝑒 𝑦𝘰𝑢, 𝑠𝑤𝑒𝑒𝘵ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑟𝘵, 𝑛𝘰 𝘰𝑛𝑒 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝘵𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑚𝑒—𝑢𝑠—𝑑𝘰𝑤𝑛 𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑖𝑙𝑦.”

When you respond to him with another creative jibe, calling him a “𝘵ℎ𝑖𝑐𝑘-ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑑 𝘰𝑎𝑓”, his deep laughter booms through the room.

No one else can and will challenge him like you do, and he lives for it.

Caught in the back-and-forth of your wit and spirit, craving the spark you kindle within him with every word.

⊱ ℂ𝕒𝕝𝕖𝕓

“𝐶𝑎𝑙𝑒𝑏!”

The moment your wide smile graces your features upon spotting him down the store aisle, it robs out all the oxygen in his lungs.

Caleb has always known that this relationship is different from his past ones—the thought of seeing you in his future teasing his brain occasionally.

But when you skip to him, with excitement dancing in your eyes, it hits him that he will give everything just to witness that radiance again.

Every day for the rest of his life.

“𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑦𝘰𝑢 𝑎𝑟𝑒!” You slip your hand into his and intertwine your fingers together. “𝐼 𝑛𝑒𝑒𝑑 𝑦𝘰𝑢𝑟 ℎ𝑒𝑙𝑝 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑐ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝘵ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑖𝘵𝑒𝑚 𝘵ℎ𝑒𝑦’𝜈𝑒 𝑝𝑢𝘵 𝑢𝑝 𝑠𝘰 ℎ𝑖𝑔ℎ.”

He’ll let you lead him to whichever section of the market, and he'll damn well help you get whatever you want, even if it’s questionable whether you need it or not.

Another mini planter for your succulents? Sure, he’ll even buy all of the different designs for you.

When you ask him if he’s alright, noticing his dazed expression, he straight up pulls you into his embrace and kisses the top of your head, murmuring, “𝐼 ℎ𝘰𝑝𝑒 𝑦𝘰𝑢’𝑙𝑙 𝑘𝑒𝑒𝑝 𝑎𝑠𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑚𝑒 𝘵𝘰 𝑔𝑒𝘵 𝘵ℎ𝘰𝑠𝑒 𝑢𝑛𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑒 𝑖𝘵𝑒𝑚𝑠.”

If he is misty-eyed amidst the bustling grocery store, it doesn’t concern him in the least.

You smile up at him in confusion, noticing the sentimental mood in his eyes. Standing on tiptoes, you give him a quick peck and melt in the warmth of his arms, feeling the beat of his heart against your cheek.

No other place feels as secure and comforting as being in each other’s arms.

⤷ ᝰ.ᐟ MASTERLIST

[roseburning]

I feel like this fandom often forget how insanely WEALTHY this man:

Actually is. He's kinda rich, right? Wrong.

This cherry pie:

Is a MULTI-BILLIONAIRE. This would let him comfortably sit at Forbes 985th, ladies and gentlemen, that's the same net worth as Michael Jordan.

I know that he doesn't like to show off his money because his mother only cared about it and neglected him, and I know he's the one founding all the high tech gadgets for the X-Men + to the mansion and the planes.

However.

WHERE ARE ALL THE FICS ABOUT HIM SPOILING ROTTEN HIS BOYFRIEND?! not like Erik would accept it straight away, but I need them to talk about and Charles making sure Erik knows he's worthy it and that it's okay to accept love and gifts.

WHERE ARE THE FICS ABOUT HIM NOT HAVING A CLUE THAT MOST PEOPLE CONSIDER NORMAL ABOUT MONEY?! I'm sorry, as neglected you may be, there's no way you inherit 3,5 BILLIONS and has a realistic view on how most people handle money, let alone poor people. This man is the 1%, he's the rich that the liberals want to eat (erik, not like that-). He's self aware and he tries to police himself, but I need to see the reality checks every now and then. Besides, a lot of his students came from really shitty places and the class difference would be screaming sometimes.

ACTUALLY, NOT JUST ERIK, I NEED TO SEE HIM GIVING PEOPLE STUPIDLY EXPENSIVE GIFTS IN GENERAL. Sometimes just because he can and there's no reason why not, sometimes he doesn't realize it's that expensive, and then I digress to my previous point.

WHERE ARE THE SUGAR DADDY FANFICTIONS?!

There's also this website I found that claims he has 125 BILLION DOLLARS but I highly doubt that:

Ladies and gentlemen, that website was ranking characters from DC and Marvel, and they put him above Tony Stark (80 billion) and Bruce Wayne (100 billion). I have no idea where they took that information from, but that would make our adorable lab rat the 10TH MOST WEALTHY MAN on the planet as of 2024.

Omg, the subtitle got Erik's name wrong-

This was a Charles' bank account appreciation post, thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.

UPTADE: Guys, I found the perfect fanfic for it and I cannot recommend this enough. Downtown (everything's waiting for you) by so_shhy

Synopsis: “Charles is a rich CEO, Erik is a hooker with a heart of gold...

(In other words, Pretty Woman AU)”

Fun fact: I found that marvelous fanfiction while looking for “Charles Xavier being an asshole” tag.

[unintentionalseductress]

It's The Thought That Counts

My fic to @who-mentioned-rhys-larsen for my Secret Santa collab! Hope the smut was freaky enough for you pookie! Warnings: MDNI, sex, lingerie kink, toys, bondage, minor bdsm elements, bit of cum play, very little plot Summary: When you receive an unexpected present from Xavier, you realize his intentions are anything but holy. Word Count: 3425

Warm lights fill your small living room as you settle cozily next to Xavier on the carpet near the tree. Both of you were still in your warm holiday pajamas, yours a festive red and green with reindeer all over it, and his blue and white covered with snowflakes. Colorful wrapping paper was strewn all over the floor as Xavier put aside his most recently opened gift- a book of poetry you’d seen him eyeing a few weeks ago. Xavier takes the last remaining box from under the tree.

“The final present. I hope you like it.” Xavier’s tone is light but carries a hint of mischief and there’s a gleam in his ocean-blue eyes as he hands it to you. Curiously, you accept the box neatly wrapped in gold paper with a bow on top. You rip apart the tape and wrappings before opening the lid and your eyes widen in surprise as you see what’s inside.

You feel your cheeks reddening as you look at your presents. The first thing that caught your eye was a lacy, lingerie set in a silky cream color. It was folded at the bottom and as you observed the other contents lying on top of it, you squeaked and put the box down to cover your face.

“Something wrong?” Xavier’s voice is calm but has a teasing lilt to it.

“Xavier these presents…Why would you get me something like this?” You refuse to let him see your face even as you feel his large hand wrap around your wrist and tug. A playful chuckle leaves his lips and giving up on your wrist, he reassuringly pats your head.

“Why not? Weren’t we talking the other day about how we wanted to try new things in the bedroom? I just picked up a few things you had mentioned. But the lingerie set is entirely for my own pleasure. I thought you’d look beautiful in it.”

You finally take your hands away but can’t quite look into his eyes. Xavier catches your chin in his fingers and lifts your face to his. “Hey. You don’t have to be so embarrassed.” He pulls you closer and you rest your cheek on his shoulder, trying not to feel so flustered.

“There’s no pressure to use them. I thought I’d just buy them so that we had them on hand in case we were feeling adventurous sometime.” He nuzzles into your hair and you feel warmth gathering in your chest at the soft contact. Wrapping your arms around Xavier’s neck you lean back to look at him in the eyes.

“No making fun of me ok?” You ask him with large eyes and he smiles, nodding. 

“Now…what are these other things?” You gather courage and look back into the box. You pick up a pair of small clamps which had beads attached to the bottoms. 

“Nipple clamps.” Xavier moves closer to you and his hot breath tickles your ear. “Remember how that night you said you love having your nipples played with and you thought you’d like the extra stimulation?

His voice is husky and you feel a liquidy pull in the pit of your stomach at his words, little skitters of electricity running along your spine. Wetting your lips, you try to talk. “Uh, yeah. I remember. So these…?”

“The shopkeeper said they were beginner-friendly. A slight little pinch to heighten your senses.” Xavier’s thumbs subtly brush against the sides of your breasts and you feel the atmosphere in the room change, almost becoming steamy. Swallowing, you set the clamps aside and pick up another item, a silk pouch.

“Ah yes. This.” Xavier takes the pouch from you and the touch of his fingers on yours felt like little fires were erupting under your skin. He opens the drawstring and pulls out the items, which look like bits of satin.

“Restraints. For your ankles and wrists.” Xavier demonstrates by loosely looping one of the satin restraints over your hand and your heart skips a beat. “The shopkeeper suggested handcuffs at first but I thought these would be a little softer on your skin.” Xavier presses a kiss to your palm, the soft gesture setting off a firecracker of excitement in the pit of your stomach. He carefully puts the restraints back into the pouch and waits for you to pull out the last toy. 

Your hand trembles slightly as you pull out the last one, which is a strange U shape. One end had a small opening in the thick, cushy head while the other was shaped like a bullet vibrator. You run a finger over the soft silicone, then glance up at Xavier.

“And this…a novelty item the shopkeeper recommended.” Xavier runs a finger down the U-curve. “It can be used for both internal and external pleasure. This part-” Xavier taps the bullet-shaped end, “-Is meant to be inserted into your pussy. It vibrates and will keep your G-spot nice and stimulated.” His fingers trace back to the slimmer end with the opening. “And this comes over your clit.” His voice has become a sultry whisper as he explains, his eyes becoming darker with each word. “It has this delightful suction and it feels almost like a real mouth.”

Xavier is so close to you that you could have sworn he could hear the way your heart was beating rapidly like a caged bird. “Imagine this. You come out wearing that lingerie. I’ll take my sweet time removing it. Then we put those nipple clamps on. I think the pull would feel amazing on your sweet little peaks. Then I lay you down on the bed and tie you up with those satin ropes. And all the while you’re panting and moaning for me like a good girl, I’ll insert this vibrator into your cunt. How loudly do you think you’ll cry out when you orgasm?”

You find yourself tongue-tied and unable to push out the picture he’s painted in your brain. The idea of being so vulnerable to his eyes, of being under his control as he pushed you towards orgasm has your core clenching, and your clit was already throbbing uncomfortably from his descriptions. 

“Well?” Xavier prompts. “Do you want to put it on for me?” The intimate tone of his voice has you relenting and despite your reservations, you nod shyly. Xavier’s eyes light up and he looks approvingly at you. “Go on.” He jerks his chin at the lingerie. “I’ll wait for you in the bedroom.”

Your legs tremble as you get up, take the silky lingerie from the box, and scamper into the bathroom. Your heart was pounding in your chest as you started to undress. Turning, you catch sight of yourself in the mirror, seeing your perked nipples under the light before you pick up the delicate bra and start to hook it on. It contrasted beautifully against your skin, the lace flirting at the swell of your breasts, and the material pushing your bosom up like it was offering to be inspected. Next, you drag on the little lace boy shorts, the silky feeling of them as they glide up your legs almost erotic. Once on, you turn, blushing when you see that they barely covered your round ass. You sit on the edge of the bathtub as you pull on the matching thigh-high stockings which have bows at the top, and do a spin in the mirror.

You did look good, there was no denying that, but you also had never worn anything this luxuriously racy in your life before. Your flush has spread to your body, staining your skin like a delicate blossom waiting for spring. Taking a deep breath, you step out and pad towards the bedroom, noting the box containing the toys was gone; probably Xavier had taken it with him. You peek into the bedroom and feel a skitter of electricity pass through you as you see Xavier has changed into a silky bathrobe that was loosely tied and left most of his chest on display. He had laid out the toys on the nightstand and he catches sight of you as he turns to put the box away. A soft smile graces his lips as he sees you.

“Well hello there,” he says in a sweet voice. “Won’t you come in?” On wobbly legs, you force yourself to move, stopping in front of him, your eyes cast downward. Xavier catches your chin and lifts your face to his. Those blue eyes bore into yours, but there’s gentleness in them as he admires you. 

“I knew you’d look stunning in this.” He sits down on the edge of the bed. “Turn around for me.” Self-consciously, you spin slowly, feeling how much of your skin is on display. Xavier’s gaze was sending currents of heat shooting through you and you can hear his quiet breath through the silence. When your back is turned, he softly commands, “Stop.” 

You freeze, and wait, your feet digging into the carpet. “Bend over.” His voice cuts through the silence. Feeling your face burn, you lean over, feeling the shorts ride up higher into your crotch showing off more of your cheeks. The sensation of the fabric pushing against your pussy makes it throb, reminding you about the unspoken tension that had been building inside you from the moment you had donned the lingerie. 

You take a sharp breath as you feel Xavier’s hand cup your ass, giving it a squeeze, his fingers patting under the roll of flesh to make it jiggle. Satisfied with his groping, he chuckles softly. “Good girl. Now face me.” You straighten, then finish the turn and finally face him, your hands fiddling nervously with each other. Seeing this, Xavier tsks and pulls on your arm. You take a few shaky steps towards him and he comfortingly settles you on his lap, his hands running up and down your back. “Are you all right? Comfortable?” You nod, then whisper in his ear, “Yeah. I’m just a little unused to this.”

He hums in understanding, then helps you lay down on the bed before lying down next to you. He runs a finger across your cheek, down to your jaw, then your neck and collarbone before tracing the swell of your breast under the lace. The sensation tickled and you squirmed slightly under him. “That’s it, get comfortable with my touch,” Xavier murmurs, leaning in to kiss the column of your neck, his tongue laving the soft skin before he starts to leave a trail of wet kisses. The hand that was stroking your cleavage drops lower to cup your breast, giving an enticing squeeze that draws a breathy sigh from you. 

“Yes…just relax.” He dips a fingertip under the lace to flirt with the heated skin there and suddenly, you almost feel irritable, like the cool silk on your skin was too much of a barrier. Removing the invading digit, Xaver observes the way your nipples have hardened, the outlines clearly visible through the fabric and he brushes his thumbs against them. The sensation sends a line of lust straight into your core and you moan quietly at the action. 

A chuckle leaves Xavier’s lips and his hands wander to your back, snapping open the catch of your bra, revealing your prettily perked nipples to his eyes. Your chest rises and falls as you try to control your breathing but Xavier’s light touches and teasing looks are forcing you to remember the description he had told you earlier about how he was planning on this to go.  A noise of pleasure falls from your lips and Xavier pulls a nipple into his mouth, suckling and wetting it with his tongue and lips, alternating the suction and pressure as he tweaks its twin between his fingers. 

He hadn’t been wrong about the nipple play; you enjoyed it immensely, and currents of heat kept rising in your belly, radiating outward and making your body a pliant tangle of desire. As he switches to the other nipple, gracing it with his mouth, the persistent throbbing between your legs intensifies and all your brain can focus on is how you could relieve it. You needed friction so badly, and nothing was within reach. Whimpers escape your lips, your body trembling hotly under his mouth. With a wet pop, Xavier unlatches from your breast and admires the moistened peaks. 

“Ready to try out those clamps?” He helps you sit up and rests you against the headboard and gives both nipples a teasing twist that causes you to gasp before he picks up the beaded nipple clamps from the nightstand. You watch in fascination as Xavier gathers saliva on his tongue and spreads it over one of your peaks before sliding the stopper on the clamp loose. The cold metal slides onto the sides of your nipple and he slowly drags the stopper to close, letting it pinch your skin just enough that it brings a pleasant ache into the bud. He repeats this with the other one and the delicate pull makes you even needier than you already were. The little beads add weight and gravity pulls them downwards. They made you feel naughty like you were working in a burlesque. 

“How do they feel? Are they too tight?” Xavier tugs very lightly on one of the clamps and you yelp, not from pain but from the unexpected jolt of pleasure that courses through you. You shake your head no. “They feel good.”

“Ok good.” Xavier flicks the clamps almost imperceptibly, making them swing, enjoying how your face contorted each time. The sight of your trapped nipples had made him unbearably hard. It was taking all his willpower not to strip off your underwear and fuck you senseless at this very moment. Swallowing, he steels himself for what he wants to do next. He parts your legs by the knees, eyes becoming feral at the sight of the patch of wetness that has coated the gusset of the cream-colored boy shorts. 

Hooking his finger into the waistband, he drags the little strip of fabric off your legs, baring your sex to his eager eyes. The lips were puffy from arousal, and he could see a fine sheen of glistening moisture on the very edges of your labia. Xavier presses kisses to your inner thighs, stroking your calves and the arches of your feet. You writhe at each searing touch, the clamps jerking with each movement and bringing a delicious feeling of pain and pleasure each time. 

Your clit was swollen and begging for attention and all you wanted was for Xavier to put his mouth on you and lick you till you screamed his name in ecstasy. Almost as if he’d sensed this, he gives you a wicked grin from between your legs. “Not yet my little star. There’s still so much I want to do to you.” Leaning over you he reaches for the velvet pouch containing the restraints. 

He drags the smooth velvet over your belly teasingly, watching the skin quiver under the action, then down your legs, hovering over your inner thighs. The tickling sensation breaks your stillness and you gasp, toes curling in response as he creeps downwards. He delicately lifts your foot, creating a loop with the fabric, and securing it to the bedpost. He repeats the action on your other foot and your wrists until you're lying spreadeagled on the bed, your legs completely open to his mercy. 

The clamps shift as he finishes tying you, now splayed in opposite directions, pulling on your nipples and creating a new wave of need shooting through your body. You whimper at the utterly helpless position he’s left you in as he strokes your mound and then spreads apart your lips to reveal the swollen little bud at the top of your folds.

“Perfect. All sweet and ripe for the taking.” Without warning he licks a line through your folds and you squeal, straining at your restraints which hold you firmly in place as he has his way with you. You moan, barely able to move your hips to your satisfaction as Xavier sucks your clit into his mouth, wet little noises escaping the seal of his lips as he feasts. The air fills with your cries and just as you feel a particularly delicious spasm ripple through you, Xavier withdraws, leaving you panting and trying to bring him back to you wildly. You felt bereft, the absence almost unbearable. 

You turn your head to look at Xavier, confusion in your eyes, which then widen as you see him reach for the U-shaped toy. He strokes your cheek and gives you a quick, sensual, kiss on the lips. His long fingers probe at your entrance, testing your wetness before slipping a digit inside to ensure you’re prepared for what's to come. There’s no resistance, and he’s pleased to find only slick heat enveloping his finger. Confident now, he positions himself between your legs and begins to insert the toy. 

A primal noise of need escapes your lips as you feel the toy inside you, then with a little maneuvering, you feel the other curved end slide over your puffy clit, fitting inside the opening you had observed. You wait with bated breath, then gasp as Xavier turns it on. The toy buzzes to life inside you, drawing a low moan from you as you feel a mild suction on your clit. Experimentally, Xavier pushes the rubber button on the vibrator until it kicks up a few levels and your voice keens as the internal and external stimulation hits a point of perfection. 

“Is that enough?” Xavier’s voice cuts through the haze of sexual need in your brain as he watches your face. You manage a nod, your mouth hanging open as you try to breathe through the amazing sensations that are spreading through your body. Your eyes closed in ecstasy, feeling overwhelmed by what was happening. The combination of the pressure on your clit and nipples, plus the feeling of losing control, of being held down like prey while Xavier watched you come undone was unbearably arousing. 

Your eyes crack open, and your heart nearly stops as you see he’s removed his clothes, and stroking himself while watching you. You moan at the sight of his cock, your mouth watering.

“Do you want a taste?” He asks teasingly, and you nod, feeling like you need something in your mouth to ground you. He moves closer and gently lifts your head so that you can take him into your mouth. He hisses as your lips close around him, the soft wetness feeling exquisite on his heated flesh. You suck him for comfort, trying to focus on your orgasm. Xavier takes deep calming breaths, not using you, but seemingly content to watch you struggle in the throes of passion. He feels you back up suddenly, a muffled cry emanating from within, and realizes you’re on the edge. He pulls out of your mouth just in time for an animalistic noise of satisfaction to shudder free, watching you greedily as your whole body shakes as the orgasm grips you.

You writhe on the bed as gratifying pleasure fills you, radiating from your core and causing your clit and hole to spasm delightfully as it happens. Xavier watches and quickly pumps himself, the thought of how those spasms in your pussy might feel on his cock. As your moans die down he moves, still stroking himself, and gets the toy out of your pussy. He groans as he kneels between your legs.

“Where do you want it?” he asks in a breathless whisper, and your eyes meet his in a hazy glance. 

“On my clit…please…” you say in a breathy voice and that sends him hurdling over the edge. He lets out a gasp as his cock twitches in his hand, then aims it between your folds, watching his thick seed fall onto your swollen clit, messily cascading down onto the sheets. You hum in satisfaction as the warm liquid slides over you, then look up adoringly at Xavier.

“How do you feel?” he asks, holding his now spent erection. 

“It was amazing Xavier.” You admit dreamily, then giggle as he leans over you to remove the nipple clamps, feeling them tingle as the circulation returns. 

“Give me a minute, and I’ll put on the grand finale,” he says with enthusiasm, and you can’t help but grin at the promise. “Merry Christmas my little star.”

© unintentionalseductress original work | no copying, plagiarizing or translating

@theimmortalbuns @otomegamesforlife @sweets-kozume @supernaturalbaesduh @ladyparamount

[daosies]

when you get sick

sylus, zayne, xavier ♡ gn!reader

warnings: not proofread, kissing (xavier), reader is the protagonist but gender neutral, implications of myth lore (all three), sylus calls u "sweetie", reader is hospitalized (zayne), sharing the same bed (xavier)

notes: i wrote this with nothing but sylus on my mind and a dream 😍

also this is my first time writing zayne o(*￣▽￣*)ブ plz forgive me if he's ooc or his lore is inaccurate

Sylus told himself that he’d wait.

Maybe they just forgot, he thinks, swirling his glass of wine, I wouldn’t put it above them. You have a knack for being careless; it’s one of the things that makes you so cruel, second only to the painful ignorance you have towards his—... 

Sylus clears his throat, not wanting to continue the thought; still, the sentiment lingers, drifting to and fro, scattering across his mind and permeating into the forceful silence. You (he takes a deep breath)—you are (he sets down his glass of wine), you (he rubs his temples, and the thought ends there). You. 

And once more, his mind returns to you, unrestrained, uncontrolled—because nothing in this world belongs to him; everything is yours. From the thoughts of his mind to the beat of his heart, he is yours; why else was he given the ability to perceive, if not for you? 

Sylus was crafted, forsakenly, for the sole purpose of worshiping you; he was given eyes so he could see you, hands so he could feel you, and a heart so he could feel the ache and the spasm when you left. 

Because you’re cruel. Because he’s cruel. Because he deserves to suffer, because he must suffer, when he is able to perceive you, unfathomably, and the grand, obscene void that follows thereafter. 

Because you exist! Around him, beside him (he glances at the warm, flickering candlelight, its ember illuminating his wine a valiant shade of carmine), but most poignantly, (his gaze does not leave the flame—his fist, however, comes up to the left side of his chest, fisting the fabric of his shirt) you exist within him.

Like a flame. Smoldering. Like a bomb. Ticking. Like, like—he takes a deep breath, and he continues to wait. 

He looks at his dim phone screen. Nothing. But Sylus told himself that he’d wait. Maybe you forgot to call him, or, maybe you didn’t want to call him at all. (He takes a sip of wine, wincing at the bitter flavor—was it always that way?) Maybe, you decided that he wasn’t worth your time, that maybe, of all the people in the world who want you (his brows furrow, and one of his hands come to fiddle with the holster of his pistol), he was the least suitable option. 

Sylus scoffs. Truly, if he was the least suitable option, he should have let that bullet you put in his heart stay there. At least then, he could attribute the throbbing to the gnawing metal and not the mere thought of you. 

(That’s all it takes. A thought. A fraction. A wisp! The mere thought of you is enough for his heart to mourn, for it to ache despite there being far worse things done to it; a knife, a dagger, a gun! A bullet! And you—you, oh, in all your wondrous cruelty, manage to triumph over it all!)

If they’re going to leave me, Sylus thinks, at least leave no trace. If you’re going to leave him, then at least spare him of your memory—he thinks of flowers, of treasures and gold—or take away his sight! His mind! His lungs! 

Make it so that he cannot live! Make it so he cannot comprehend the thought of your absence, so he has never felt the satiation of your existence! Starve him! An insatiable creature will never realize its hunger if it has never felt full!

But your cruelty (Sylus chuckles to himself, bemused) is reassuring; at the very least, he can expect that you won’t go down without a fight. Or two. Or three—spanning across lifetimes and eras. 

In this life, however, his fight is against the age of modern technology and his own stubbornness; should he surrender and call you first? But he doesn’t want to be easy, he has always prided himself in his self-restraint; after all, that was how he was able to let you go. Restraint. 

(His hand, briefly, grazes over the left side of his chest. He feels a spasm, a choke and a throb, his ribs beginning to constrict, his lungs stagnating.)

Should he call you first? Should he give in, and make himself easy? Should he forget self-restraint, and pursue what he has believed to be his? His treasure, his deity, his—his! 

Sylus doesn’t need to mull over the idea for long. He picks up his phone, your number on the top of his contact list, starred. Forget his pride. Forget his restraint. When did he ever have any of that? He has always hoarded his treasures, keeping them close to his heart—because holding something in his hand means that it’s his, forever. 

Your caller picture comes up. You; smiling; glowing; glimmering. Instinctively, Sylus is drawn to radiant things. It’s a primal urge, an innate trait—he looks down at your image, unable to contain his adoration, his gaze trailing over his treasure—which cannot be restrained. He’s insatiable. He’s insatiable because he, once, perceived you. Eons ago. 

(In a field of flowers, in an oasis of gold, Sylus perceived you. He perceived you, and oh, from that moment on, he has worshiped you. Forget the gold! Forget the jewelry! Forget him! He is yours; an offering; a submission; a pawn. He is yours! For that is the law of this world.)

The phone rings. Once, twice—Sylus smirks, thinking, Why play hard to get when I’m already theirs?—before finally, you pick up. He sets his glass of wine down. A flame. A bomb!

“Finally decided to answer, hm?” he says. 

From the other end, Sylus hears this: a rustle; a deep breath; a cough and a sigh. His smirk falters a little, his heart, wildly, going: tick-tick-tick…

“Sylus,” you call, your voice sounding raspy. “I can’t talk right now,”—your words are minced by a slaughter of coughs—“sorry. I’m sick. I took medicine already, though.”

He didn’t wait for your explanation. The moment you spoke his name, the syllables sounding ethereal from your tongue, Sylus stood up and reached for the keys of his motorbike, the engine rumbling before you even finished your sentence. 

(All you have to do is call his name! All you have to do is perceive him, really! To allow him to exist within a fragment of your thoughts, and that is enough!)

“I’m on my way.”

Rustling. Sylus can picture your face, disheveled, startled, as you quickly retort, “There’s no need! It’s late!”

Sylus laughs a little. How adorable, he thinks, sneaking another glance at your caller photo. “Late? Have you forgotten who I am, sweetie?”

Coughs. “Ugh.” You sniffle. 

“Open the door,” Sylus says, his tone not matching his words. When it comes to you, Sylus becomes unlike himself, his hardened exterior crumbling away, his voice reincarnates, contorting from a callous demand to a subtle plea. He metamorphosizes! From a sinner to a lover! Both equally egregious in magnitude, both equally intense and violent and…

“Huh?! Already?” From the other end, Sylus can hear you rummaging through your layers of bedsheets and blankets, your movements shabby and unrefined as you make a beeline towards the door. The cacophony dips into a muffled buzz, your voice becoming distant as you leave your phone behind.

A lull. The door creaks open; where you stand, the light fails to meet him; the shadow of your figure etched onto his skin.

A lover. He looks at you; not even bothering the end the call, or hide his obvious stare; Sylus smirks. His gaze trails over your features, affirming to himself that the camera does not do you justice, that the ability to perceive and feel the actual magnitude of your existence is otherworldly. 

This—this cannot be mimicked: the radiance, the glimmer, the recollection of all things that are beautiful. When Sylus looks at you, he thinks of flowers, of gold and of an ever-expanding sky. Back when the world was lovely, and now, when it became lovely again. 

You take a step back, eyes widening once your foot fails to meet the ground, the world beginning to spin while you brace yourself for impact. But the landing never comes. The small of your back meets a firm, warm palm, the scent of pine overwhelming your senses. 

(Instinctively, you lean forward. Sylus notices this. When you flinch back, embarrassed, however, Sylus’s other hand comes to press against the back of your head, bringing you closer to him.)

(“Trying to escape?” he whispers, lips near the shell of your ear. “You’re going to have to try harder than that.”)

Before you can retort, Sylus lifts you up, heading in the direction of your bedroom, unusually familiar with the layout of your apartment. Sylus’s touch has always been featherlight—even when he tucks you into bed, and pulls the sheet over your chin, and presses his knuckle against your forehead, his calloused fingers are tender, just barely grazing your skin. 

(He had learned, long ago, that the most prized of possessions are often the most delicate.)

“Which do you prefer, sweetie?” he asks, placing a damp towel on your forehead. (Since when did Sylus know how to take care of people? you wonder.) “Porridge or hot tea?”

(He had learned, long ago, that to be a lover is to change. To morph, to change and to grow into someone kinder. Someone gentler. Most of all, however, to be a lover is to learn.)

“Hot tea,” you reply, throat feeling terribly sore. “But—”

Sylus’s glare silences you, the words falling down your esophagus, their wings clipped. Your throat is soar. You didn’t tell him, but still, you think he knows. (How does he know? you wonder.)

(To be a lover is to understand.)

“Hot tea it is.”

He finds your kitchen with ease. It’s as if Sylus lives with you, the way he navigates through your various cabinets and cooking utensils, familiar with everything—from your favorite cup to your favorite tea, Sylus knows you. 

(But how? you wonder.)

(To be a lover is to know. It’s like an instinct, an innate trait, a primal desire and an insatiable urge. When he was crafted, forsakenly, Sylus was given eyes to perceive and hands to touch—but also, he was given purpose, like how life exists to survive, like how death exists to control life. Sylus exists to love. He lives to love. He dies, time and time again, for love.)

From the doorframe of your room, Sylus stares at you, unabashed, unrestrained. A cup of hot tea steams in his hand. 

(Sylus loves for you. He finds love around you. From the color of your favorite cup to the tune of your favorite song, Sylus finds love. He finds purpose. He finds meaning.)

“Careful,” he says, helping you sit up in your bed. Sylus wipes the beads of sweat from your face with the soft taps of a towel, his dexterous fingers, used to pressing triggers, now reinvented to serve you.

(That was their original purpose.)

“The tea is hot,” he states, blowing, the steam bending to his breath. “Take small sips.” 

“To think the leader of Onychinus is cooling down my tea,” you say, managing to crack the slightest of smiles despite the exhaustion.

Sylus chuckles. “It’s your privilege.”

(What is the purpose of his title, if not for you?)

“Wow,” you reply, “what an honor.”

(What is the purpose of him, if not to love you?)

“Truly.” Sylus stares at you, your image devoured in flames. “What an honor.”

After finishing the tea, and settling completely into bed, you find yourself fighting the drowsiness. Sylus finds his seat by your side, turning off the lights with the snap of his Evol, not wanting to part from you, even if it’s for but a moment.

“Sleep, sweetie. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Really?” you remark, finding it in yourself to banter despite teetering across the border of consciousness.

“Always,” Sylus affirms, his large hand coming to cover your eyes, forcing you to fall, engulfed by the darkness. But Sylus would never let you brave the underworld alone, so he rests his head against the imprint of your figure in the mattress, breathing in your existence.

He closes his eyes. Vulnerable. His only weapon is his gun, holstered onto his belt. His hands are occupied, however, with yours. You could kill him now if you wanted to. If you wanted to end Onychinus. To restore justice in the N109 Zone. To receive merit within the Hunter’s Association.

Your breathing evens out. Sylus feels his heart throb. A bullet was there, once; he wished it could stay there; it was your offering to him, after all.

Tick-tick-tick… 

You’ve fallen asleep. Sylus scoffs. There goes your chance for a quick and easy promotion. 

(To be a lover is to wait. For the explosion, for the certainty, for the promise of eternity despite the inevitable end.)

(To be a lover is to have purpose.)

Sylus slips his fingers into the gaps of yours, and he rests. Like this, he is bound to you (but Sylus has always been bound to you—from his hands, to his eyes, to his lips, to his soul, Sylus is chained. He is destined to find you, to perceive you, and most fervently, to love you again.)

(Sylus loves you.)

Boom! 

(It has always been that way.)

“Dr. Zayne, you have an urgent message,” an automated voice says, echoing throughout his office. Zayne glances up from his various documents, sage-green eyes fixating on the projection before him. It’s a missed call from a sister hospital.

“Continue,” he replies, twirling a pen in between his deft fingers, his pale skin illuminating under the dim overhead lights. Zayne looks at the time; it’s almost midnight—he should call you soon. 

Zayne has a habit of calling you, even if it’s only for a minute or two; he does it for the sake of doing it. To check up on you. To see if you’re doing fine, or if your heart is giving you any troubles. As any good doctor would do for their patients.

(Zayne has a habit of lying to himself, for not following the standards of which he sets for others. He always tells you not to lie, to not make a fool of yourself when he can see through your facade so easily, but he himself lies, every day, at midnight, when he dials your number and waits for the ring; for the pause and for the breath, he lies, saying that it’s his duty as your physician.)

(It is a facade he refuses to recognize, a fault which he feigns ignorance to.)

(He calls you because he wants to hear your voice. To be reassured of your existence, to savor the moments of your vitality, which has slipped from his grasp, over and over again.) 

“Dr. Zayne,” someone says. Zayne looks at the holograph which manifests onto the projected screen, recognizing it to be his coworker. Briefly, his thoughts of you are interrupted, his attention belonging wholly to the projection.

“We need your assistance immediately. One of your patients has been admitted into our hospital. At the moment, their vitals are stable, but they are experiencing abrupt seizures and…”

Zayne’s collected demeanor falters. His tormented mind conjures up the worst of thoughts, because although Zayne has a plethora of patients, only a handful of them suffer from infrequent, violent seizures. And only a handful of them—he recognizes his coworker, who, similarly to Zayne, chose to specialize in cardiology—suffer from such severe symptoms.

He thinks of you. Zayne’s tormented mind always finds itself at the concept of you, curled inwards, tucked away into a gentle, petaled flower: fragile; fleeting; inevitable. And at the thought of you, everything freezes. Frost begins to tickle the tip of his nose, his breaths leaving in frantic, condensed puffs. 

(When will this cycle end? The desperation, the cling to survival, the repetition of the beginning and the end, never to last despite him doing everything in his power to prolong your presence—Zayne wants you to live!)

“I’ll be there,” Zayne declares, watching the holograph disappear. “Send me the location.” He grabs a black trenchcoat, ignoring the frost that infects his skin, the numbness of his limbs, the weeping of his heart. 

(He wants you to survive! He wants and wants and, daringly, despite everything, he—he still finds it in his heart to want you.)

When Zayne arrives at the hospital, his hands—which have performed surgeries, which have stitched the tiniest of arteries, which have connected the smallest of tissue—tremble. He feels sweat trickle down the side of his head, unable to fully contain himself as he shows his badge haphazardly, searching through the various units before arriving at the dreadful, forsaken ICU. 

Zayne is no stranger to the intensity of hospitals, the sharp scent of disinfectant, the repetitive beeps of various monitors. He is no stranger to the haunting sights of injected needles, of bedridden patients, of flatlines—but you, oh, you, seem to reinvent the world that was once normal to him. When it comes to you, Zayne views hospitals not as a symbol of health and life, but as an omen of doom. 

When it comes to you, Zayne remembers the past, the repeated history, the inevitable, incessant realization that both you and him are terribly finite. That, no matter what he does, or how many lives he saves, you will never be one of them. 

(That is a known fact of this world, Zayne thinks.)

But the inevitable end is followed by Zayne’s own helpless pride, his insatiable and desperate instinct. He’s a lover. He’s selfish. He wants to love you—he, he wants to live with you! Despite anything! Despite everything! If he must defy his creator, then so be it! Zayne will find a way to rewrite fate; he will find a way to love you; he already loves you. 

It has always been that way, from this life to the next, and the many thereafter. No matter how many incarnations he must live, nor how many times he is forced to watch you perish, Zayne will love you.

(That is a known fact of this world, Zayne thinks.) 

“Dr. Zayne, you’re here! Please, come this way!” 

Feverishly, Zayne follows after his coworker, offering apologies to the various people he runs into while racing towards your room. (When did he decide that it was you, the patient who is suffering from seizures?) Despite the tremble of his hands, Zayne’s breaths are steady, his shoulders accustomed to the enormity of pressure, your life dangling above his head. (Because history repeats. Because Zayne is guided by an inexplicable desire, and this desire is fed by fear and yearning and…)

You appear before him—like a premonition, like a figment of his wildest imagination, like a fantastical and mystical creature!—in a manner which, despite your unfathomable beauty, Zayne wishes he would never see again. Just once is enough: you; the hospital sheets; the haunting wires; the erratic green line which quantifies your vitality. 

Somehow, Zayne believes you to still be wondrous, your existence astonishing, illuminating every reach of the world! No matter how many times his eyes have had the privilege of beholding you, Zayne is still a stranger to the colossal magnitude of your presence, the remarkable radiance, the light, which one never truly perceives, but instinctively understands its importance.

The sun. Who would ever dare to look at the sun? Its light, although significant, is blinding—it could permanently damage one’s retinas, effectively blinding them for life.

(And at the same time, the sun grants life. What a cruel and twisted fate—to be needed and never truly accepted, to be needed and still be pushed away.)

Zayne looks at the sun. His finger barely grazes across your face, feeling the searing warmth, your incomparable light melting away the frost that once consumed his skin. When he looks away, Zayne is unable to see. He is unable to recognize anything that isn’t you: the sun; the light; the life. 

His eyes have been reworked, trained and forced to perceive only you, your image burned into his retinas, his hands feeling oh-so warm. 

“Dr. Zayne, this patient’s symptoms are unlike anything we have ever seen before.”

He blinks, recognizing the existence of a face but not truly acknowledging who it belongs to (since, undoubtedly, it is not yours). 

“Yes,” he replies, glancing back at you, sage-green eyes trailing over the bridge of your nose, the curl of your chapped lips, the furrow of your brows, your solace disturbed. “They are experiencing a unique congenital heart disease.”

“This is congenital?” 

Zayne swallows thickly, never tearing his gaze away from you.

“I’m not sure.”

To think he entered this profession for you. To think he spent years of his life learning about the intricacies of the heart, studying the finest of tissues and the most minute of cells, only for his knowledge to be insignificant. Only for his knowledge to be worthless, for his meaning to be starved, for his existence to be futile.

(When will this cycle end? When will his futility end? When will he finally become worth something? When will he finally be able to save you?)

“Is there any medication that is being administered to nullify the severity of their symptoms?” 

“Yes,” Zayne replies, glancing back down at your frail figure, your sickly countenance. “But it must be rotated often, as they build tolerance rather quickly.”

(Just how many more lives will it take? How many more times must he watch you perish? How many more times must he fight against the inevitable, the grand, twisted wheel of fate?)

“These seizures are severe, Dr. Zayne. We must find a cure.”

Zayne feels thorns prick at his skin. He opens his mouth to respond, but the words die before they can reach his tongue. He is but a shell of himself. As every incarnation passes, Zayne re-experiences loss, and although he thought he would grow accustomed to the enormity of its void, he feels the emptiness each time. Wholly. 

Every time Zayne experiences loss, he thinks of you. Every time he lives, and every time he dies, he thinks of you. Every time a flower blooms, he thinks of you.

(Somehow, this shell finds it in itself to love. Time and time again. Somehow, this shell never learns. This shell chooses to love you, from one life to the next, even if the outcome is already predetermined, even if it, once, announced the outcomes itself.)

The magnitude of loss is equal to the magnitude of your existence. Of the grandness of your presence. Of the unparalleled actuality of you. You cannot be over-dreamed. 

No matter how many times Zayne finds you, he is left breathless, feverish, satiated. No matter how many times Zayne loses you, he is left desperate, grieving, yearning. 

Your voice is imprinted in his mind, yes, and your image worshiped by his retinas, yes, but no matter how many times Zayne perceives you, he believes you to be fantastical—like, like a star! Like the sun! Bright, exhilarating, radiant!

“Zayne?” a voice calls, transcending across lifetimes. Its timbre has been transcribed, remembered, desired; across eons, across universes. It’s you. 

And Zayne heeds your voice like an emissary does their master, like it’s enchanted, like it’s a tonic, promising happiness and vitality despite Zayne knowing better, despite how he knows that, of all the laws in this world, your inevitable end is the sole constant.

He stiffens, his hand immediately coming to turn off the lights, not wanting you to bear witness to the weakness of his expression and the overwhelming brightness of the lamp.

“[Name],” he replies, drawing circles into the back of your hand. I’m here, Zayne thinks, I’m sorry I’m late.

Zayne has a terrible habit of not voicing out the magnitude of his feelings, the swell of his heart. He has a terrible habit of not fully expressing the extent of which you mean to him, the extent and the desire which draws him from one life to the next, equally as forlorn and despairing as before. 

(You will never realize how he has chased you, how he has sought to save you, how he has fought against fate, wishing to defy the inevitable. You will never realize how Zayne forfeited everything, how he burned in the sun, how he reached for your light, despite feeling the wax melt, despite the plummet and the shocking death, his figure submerged.)

“You’re here,” you say, voice marred by sleep and your face stained with tears and snot. Still, Zayne thinks of you to be ethereal—divine, otherworldly. Truly, no matter how many times his eyes have beheld you in their irises, Zayne is left dazed. Silenced. Incapable of uttering anything anymore, so all that’s left within him—the enormous desire, the overwhelming grief—is left uncommunicable, irrevocable. Forever. 

(You will never realize how he would do it again. How he continues to do it again. How he would—if you did so much as asked him to—build those wax wings again, and don them again, and jump and soar and fall again. He would throw himself into the sea, even without those wings. He would—he would!)

Zayne doesn’t respond. He doesn’t know how to. His hand tightens around yours, grief swelling in his throat. 

“I thought,” you begin, but are interrupted by a fit of coughs. Zayne brings a cup of water up to your lips, tilting it ever-so slightly. You swallow, then continue again, “I thought you were busy.”

“Not at all,” Zayne replies, thumbing his hand over your cheekbone, barely applying any pressure. He wants to say more—like how he’ll always be there for you, like how he’ll always make time for you—but then, Zayne realizes the inevitable, the laws of this world, the fate which he has tried for so, so long to defy.

His words never manage to escape his throat. They come to a stuttering stop, then silence, then acceptance.

(He will not always be there for you. He cannot always make time for you.)

“I wish,” you say, voice muffled by your sobs. Zayne feels his chest pulsate, his heart hammering against its confines, threatening to escape his body and crawl into yours. “I wish it didn’t hurt so much, Zayne.”

“I know,” he whispers, trying to contain his expression, trying to console you with the patterns he draws into your hand, the handkerchief he uses to wipe your face. “I know. I’m sorry, [Name].”

(When will this cycle end? When will he finally be able to love you, without fear, without fail? When will you finally be able to realize, in full, the magnitude of his colossal desire, the ghostly heart he hosts, the flowers which bloom all across his chest, wilting before they can be bestowed upon you?)

Sometimes, Zayne wishes he could cease to exist. So you wouldn’t have to suffer anymore. So he wouldn’t have to witness it anymore. 

(But if he never existed, he would have never been able to perceive you, to realize the extent of all that is beautiful, to recognize the fragility of life, its fleeting loveliness. If he never existed, Zayne would have never heard the wildness of your voice, its divine tune, its incomparable sound. If he never existed, Zayne would have never beheld you within his eyes, the enchanted sight, the ethereal image.)

(And that, to him, is a fate worse than death itself. Worse than the endless cycles. Worse than the inevitable end.)

You’re alive, Zayne realizes, watching your breathing steady itself, watching your heart stroke up and down, in the form of a green line, beating, on and on, ceaselessly. 

You’re alive. Zayne chokes up at the thought. You’re alive! 

His gaze tears from the heart monitor to your face. Incomparable.

(This life will be different.)

Inevitably, Zayne’s hand finds yours, the warmth from your skin sinking into his. He stares at your figure, outlining your features despite the darkness, his mind not once needing light to conjure up your image.

Although he has decided this long ago, Zayne’s resolve is strengthened by your bedridden form, your once-valiant eyes, now reduced to a lidded, teary defeat—he will find a cure, he will defy fate, he will love you.

(This life is different.)

No matter what. 

Xavier finds himself in front of your room. 

He finds himself here often, really. Ever since he found out that the two of you were floor-neighbors, Xavier has been taking full advantage of your proximity, often coming up with various excuses and reasons to see you.

Sometimes, he knocks on your door, talking about your packages that were delivered to his door by accident (which he hopes will continue to happen), or various new cafes that have opened up nearby, which he thought you’d like (and he would like too, if you went with him). 

Other times, Xavier just decides to, in a very nonchalant fashion, loiter around before work in the morning, coincidentally running into you while making his way down to the ground floor. 

This time, however, Xavier is here with more than just himself. A bag filled with medicine dangles from his hand, the other coming up to knock once, twice, then thrice on your door. Earlier, you had called in sick, and although you hadn’t personally asked for any help from him, Xavier decided to make a quick stop at the convenience store before coming home. 

Xavier doesn’t often get sick from the common cold or the flu, so he wasn’t really sure what to buy—frankly, he just wiped everything off the shelf labeled “fever” and went on with his day. He doesn’t even know if you have a fever; still, when you open the door, he steps inside. Confidently.

“Are you okay, [Name]?” he asks, observing your wobbly gait and your shallow breaths. Before you can reply and continue walking, however, Xavier’s hand snakes around your waist, supporting you against his own figure. 

“Yeah!” you manage to heave out, exhausted. Your voice sounds congested, sweat racing down the side of your face while you try to reassure Xavier of your health.

He is, unsurprisingly, not convinced.

“You should rest, [Name]. Don’t worry, I’ve got this handled,” he says, setting down his bag of medicine on your countertop. “I can make you some warm soup.”

You shiver. Xavier takes it as a sign of your sickness worsening, not realizing your fear stems from his cooking skills (or lack thereof) and not the illness that, although temporary, feels like it’s eating you away one trait at a time. 

“Thank you, Xavier,” you manage to muster out, defeated. Xavier, on the other hand, is completely oblivious.

“It’s no problem at all,”—he ushers you in the direction of your room, guiding you into your bed and pressing a kiss against your forehead—“rest up. I’ll be back.”

“Xavier!” you scold, batting him away. “Don’t kiss me! I’m sick.”

He blinks at you innocently. “So?”

“You’ll get sick, too!” 

Xavier shrugs. “So, we’d be sick together.” His smile reveals his satisfaction with the idea. You groan, sinking into the sheets, not wanting to argue any further. Victorious, Xavier leaves your room, practically beaming, whilst cooking up a toxic recipe which only the likes of him are able to make.

The domesticity of it all makes Xavier’s heart shiver. Him; your kitchen; your apartment; your room. To coexist with you, to occupy the same time and space as you, to—to be with you! Oh, how Xavier has yearned for this moment, how he has longed to stand by your side once more, even if it’s only for a fraction of time, even if a wisp is all he deserves! 

Briefly, Xavier glances over his shoulder, looking back at your door, your bedroom, your form. He looks out the window. The world. This world: unfamiliar; unforgiving; unlike what he left. Philos. Xavier had thought of ways to return, to fulfill his duty, to stake his claim as the crown prince—but, but then…

You erupt into a cacophony of coughs, and Xavier drops his wizardly concoction to comfort you, his hand patting gently against your back.

(But then he found you.)

“Sorry, Xavier,” you barely manage to say.

(Forget his duty. Forget his position. Forget his mission—he, he found you!)

“Don’t worry about it,” he reassures, his touch featherlight. If only this moment could last forever. If only! 

If only Xavier could preserve this: the tinge, the blush, the limitless expansion of the enormity within him! If only he could preserve the way you look at him, the way you make him feel—like a wondrous, fantastical being—his words unutterable, his gaze forever wedded to your own.

You—you make him feel, like, like he’s capable of anything. Of everything. You, back in Philos and here, have always brought Xavier to his knees, his mind to a halt, his vision to a standstill. You have always changed the world! With this love of his, wielding it wildly, and—and he lets you, because Xavier is your sword. Because Xavier lives to serve you. 

(He found his duty. He found his mission. He found his position: yours. It has always been that way. Back in Philos and here, now, on Earth. With you. For you.)

“The soup must be ready,” Xavier suddenly says, still, his hand remains on the small of your back, not wanting to part. “Would you like to eat it now or later?”

You shiver. Xavier, once more, takes it as a sign of your developing sickness. 

“Actually, I believe you should rest,” he says, tucking you into your bed, “the soup will always be there for you. And me.”

You laugh a little, and Xavier mimics your expression, radiant joy beginning to bloom across his face, his azure eyes trained onto your face. Xavier is but a mere mirror of you, a reflection of all of your emotions, your habits. 

When you fully sink into your bed, Xavier is unsatisfied with his position at your side. So, he crawls in beside you, his weight sinking in towards you as he envelopes you in his arms, not caring for your coughs or sneezes.

“Xavier!” you exclaim, trying to wretch yourself out of his grasp. Xavier doesn’t let you. He feigns ignorance to your thrashing and holds you even tighter.

“Xavier, you’ll get sick, too!”

He pretends to snore. His limbs are limp on top of yours, his expression unbothered as he pretends to be asleep, despite the way he peers through his half-lidded eyes, so obviously staring at you.

“Xavier!”

“Hm?”

“You—”

“I’m sleeping.”

“What?”

“I’m asleep.”

“You’re responding to me.”

He doesn’t say a word. Still, you feel him smile into your shoulder.

“Let’s get sick together,” he mumbles. “And then, let’s sleep.”

[tourturestarradio]

𝐄𝐍𝐉𝐎𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄

“𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐫𝐲, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐦. 𝐕𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧.”

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

Prompt: Vampire reader x Wolverine/Logan Howlet, (platonically)

Warnings: teenage reader, kinda mean Logan

Part 1

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮

Professor X stared at you who slept “they appeared last night?” He asked calmly, Jean nodded her head “Storm managed to calm them but they seemed on edge.” She explained, Ororo spoke up “I think it has something to do with these” she muttered pointing to the bruises and cuts you had all over your body.

Charles wheeled himself over to you “they didn’t harm anyone did they?” Ororo shook her head “apart from Logan no, frightened one but that’s all, Logan is cleaning up the mess they made in the kitchen they also seem to be non verbal but we don’t don’t known if it’s on purpose or if they just choose not to speak” she explained looking over you.

Charles placed his hands at the sides of your head traveling through your mind carefully. It was chaotic inside of your head no type of organization going on. Thoughts and messy memories being thrown around, It honestly started to overwhelm him as he backed away. 

As if on cue you sat up growing claws and backing away eyes darting around frantically “hey hey okay” Ororo was quick to calm you, your heart was pumping fast “it’s okay we were only helping” you looked down at your body seeing you were wrapped in bandages.

You looked at the bald man standing up shakily “good morning, I didn’t mean to frighten you” he said with a polite smile, “my name is Charles Xavier, nice to meet you Y/n” during his travel through you head he had caught your name. 

You looked at him questionably “I can tap into your mind” he hummed tapping the side of his head, you looked him up and down “Y/n what nice name, I see you’ve taken a liking to Ororo” the woman with white hair and brown skin smiled at you. 

He pointed to the other woman “that is Jean grey, she helped taking care of your wounds.” You looked at the woman with red hair she also smiled at you “hello”. 

You stayed close to Ororo “and this is Scott,” you tilted your head walking close to him staring at his glasses, reaching for them he stepped away “careful I can’t take these off” you frowned and went back over to the white haired woman.

“We’ve gotten you some clean clothes if you’d like Ororo could show you around” you picked up the clothes you grabbed your wrist but something was wrong looking around you patted around trying to feel for something “is something wrong Y/n?” Ororo asked.

Your eyes scanned the room as you pointed to your wrists, you couldn’t speak but you made small noises Jean came over to you “what’s the matter? Are the bandages too tight?” You shook your head  frantically. 

Tears brimmed in your eyes as you started claw at your arms, Charles tapped into you head again stopping you from harming yourself, one thing kept flashing through your head it was a bracelet. It was gold with red ruby’s embedded into the bracelet. 

He looked over at Jean “a bracelet their looking for a bracelet.” Your head snapped over looking at the him hurrying up to him you nodded “I saw a bracelet on them when I was treating them.” 

She patted her pockets feeling for it, grabbing it out of her pocket she called you over to her. “Here safe and sound” her tone was warm and comforting, snatching it from her you put it on carefully holding it close to your chest.

You seemed to relax once you had it on, causing the others to look at each other “that bracelet does it mean a lot to you” you looked at Ororo nodding slowly. 

She smiled “I’ll make sure it stays safe with you.” You grabbed the clothes, about to take of the medical gown but Ororo stopped you “hold on let’s get you to a room okay?” You nodded following the woman as she left the room.

“Seems like they have favorites” Scott joked, “yeah well she’s the only one who hasn’t used her powers on them” Scott nodded before turning his attention to Charles “what’s up with the kid?” He shook his head.

“They have seen many horrors their mind it’s scrambled broken trying to rebuild itself, no wonder they are always so on guard.” Jean stared at where you once stood “is it a mistake to let them stay here?” She asked, Charles shook his head “no, it’s never a mistake to help someone in need. They just need help clearing their head” he replied.

Scott spoke “so they’re a mutant what’s their power?” Charles thought back on your memories “they seem to have vampiric abilities, speed, strength, hypnotizing, and they can turn themselves into a bat. However they don’t seem to have much control over their powers” he explained.

Scott scoffed “that explains a bit, why don’t they speak?” Charles glanced at Jean “she’ll be able to explain that” Jean seemed to be pulled out of her daze “what…oh when I was patching them up they had a wound on their neck I think someone most likely stabbed them and damaged their throat.” She commented.

Charles looked down “that child has had a rough life from the start, I want to give them a new one a better one”

.

You followed Ororo around as she explained the different teachings at the school you hung on every word she said “now our job is to help people, not harm them” she hummed, you looked down the ground “you hurt people when they are trying to attack you, that’s called protecting yourself.” 

You held your stomach “you hungry?” She asked, you nodded your head again “well, you ate up most of the food we had last night, and left behind quiet the mess behind” you looked down in shame.

“Now don’t think you aren’t in trouble, you scared one of the children and hurt someone so before you can eat a proper meal you need to help clean up the mess you made.” She said, you frowned “don’t give me that look” 

You let out a sigh walking into the kitchen behind Ororo “Logan, you’re gonna be getting some help” she exclaimed, “why do I have to clean up after that brats mess?” Ororo rolled her eyes “because you were the one who decided to attack them instead of defusing the situation. Anyway they’ll be helping you clean up” 

You poked your head into the kitchen seeing the man dubbed as Logan. You glared at him growing out your claws but Ororo stopped you “what did I tell you?” You retracted them “now all you have to do is help clean up that’s all.” You nodded, waking into the kitchen “now I’ll be back to check on you in a little bit try not to tear each other apart.” She commented.

You stood there awkwardly staring not knowing what to do. Logan looked over to you “you gonna help or not?” You picked up the food on the floor not knowing what to do you put it back into the box, “what are you doing? Don’t put that back in there. You throw it out” Logan huffed snatching the box away from you. 

You made a smug face at him grabbing more stuff off the ground you threw it away “what did you come here for?” You glanced at him, not saying anything “not a big fan of taking are you?” you shook your head. 

You held up a piece of food “you were hungry?” You nodded, “why didn’t you just say so?” He joked, snickering to himself. You looked at him unamused, he rolled his eyes “if you needed help you could have just knocked at the front door instead of sneaking in we would have helped you.” 

You paused your movement for a moment before getting back to cleaning. Logan looked at you “look kid…I’m sorry I attacked you.” You looked at him blinking nodding your head, pointing to yourself you pointed back to him “what’s that mean?” You pointed to yourself then to him again.

It clicked for him “oh..you’re sorry for hurting me?” You nodded your head he smirked “hm maybe we just had a bad first impression” you nodded again. 

“I’m Logan.” He introduced, you blinked as if waiting for something “…right can’t talk…I’ll ask professor X later.” He muttered to himself.

You slowly walked up to him slowly, grabbing his hand you examined it “what are you doing?” He asked, you looked at his hand pressing your thumb into his knuckles. 

He realized you were trying to see his blades. He slowly slid his blades out you held your hand up growing your nails longer, he retracted his blades and you did the same. He slid out one claw, you copied him and grew out your middle nail. 

You copied him carefully maybe he wasn’t as bad as you thought. 

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮

A/n: *insert really awesome authors note*

[gerec]

best long fics? i've only been reading oneshots lately. i like cherik which can be a book too.

To make this list even a tiny bit manageable I'm choosing to define 'long' as over 100k. There are a lot of superb fics on this list, Anon; happy reading!

Nine Eleven Ten by Subtilior (WIP - the definition of a fandom classic with fantastic worldbuilding)

Years later, Charles would remember that day. Sometimes he would wonder if he could have changed anything; other times he would despair over what he had since become. But he would always hold the image in his mind: Raven, laughing, and his thoughts flying alongside her on strong wings, silver-gold through the winter air. Once upon a time.

The stars incline us, they do not bind us by ikeracity, Pangea

Intergalactic Federation pilot Lieutenant Charles Xavier is assigned last-minute to a high profile mission: transporting over two thousand prison inmates from an old and overfilled prison complex to a newer, higher-capacity prison stronghold located on the outer reaches of the galaxy. Just as he's settling down for a long and uneventful ride, things take a turn for the worse after the inmates riot and stage a hostile takeover of the ship, leaving Charles to find himself at the complete mercy of cold-blooded killers and facing the chilling prospect that he might not ever make it back home alive.

A Curious Carriage of Crystal and Cold by Etharei

Charles, a miner from a poor village in the countryside, saves the life of Erik Lehnsherr, scion of a successful business family and the richest man on the planet Eisen. Charles is a telepath and somewhat anxious about it, while Erik abstains from relationships because the lights flicker and doors open and electronics vibrate when he gets too excited.

Also featuring a long-suffering sister, a foul-mouthed bodyguard, and a best friend with a heart that is definitely not gold.

In which there are princes, spaceships, long journeys, and old secrets uncovered. (An AU sci-fi fairytale)

Tessellation by nekosmuse

He had been following Xavier's career for years. He had read and reread and reread again everything the man had written. He had tried, on more occasions than he could count, to recruit Xavier into the Brotherhood, but each request for a meeting had been denied. Aside from his work, no one knew anything about Xavier. Not what he looked like, not the full extent of his power--though from what little they did know, he was by far the most powerful telepath in existence--and not what his intentions were.

The man was a recluse. As far as Magneto knew, Xavier had never once stepped foot outside his impenetrable Westchester manor. And now he was scheduled as the keynote speaker for the largest pro-mutant conference in the world.

The Marriage Bargain by kianspo

Erik Lehnsherr had made a fortune manufacturing steel in Europe. When he wished to expand to the New World, he discovered that no one would do business with him unless he was affiliated with one of the First Families, the creme de la creme of the NW aristocracy. When Lord Marko holds an auction to give away his 14-year-old stepson's hand in marriage, Erik sees his chance and takes it. He has no interest in Charles himself, but now that he has him, can they make it work?

Everyday Love in Stockholm by tahariel

Prompt: Magneto is the ruler of the posthuman world.

His only secret? Charles Xavier, the human he's kept locked in his bedroom ever since his right-hand woman, Mystique, came to him pleading for mercy for her stepbrother, who accepted her mutant form and protected her as a child. The human he started fucking after Mystique was killed in battle, despite the guilt he feels at contaminating even this last promise to the woman who was integral to his life's work and happiness.

The Proper Care of Actors by afrocurl, Clear_Liqueur, Clocks, Etharei (series)

Erik is an A-list action star who is notoriously difficult to work with, until the day he gets cast alongside Charles Xavier, rom-com darling who can charm the pants off movie audiences the world over and apparently even one Erik Lehnsherr. The paparazzi catch them out and about soon enough, and their real-life Hollywood movie romance becomes instant tabloid fodder.

The Associates by ikeracity, Pangea (series)

Being a mob boss' associate has its ups and downs. Having sex in the back of a limo on Valentine's Day is definitely one of the ups.

The Sonnet Series by afrocurl, nekosmuse (series)

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.

Space Oddity by MonstrousRegiment, Pangea (series)

Prince Charles Xavier is Deputy Commander of the TEF Heartsteel and the newest mission they've been assigned starts out less than desirable and quickly goes downhill from there. It's alright, though, he'll cope.

It doesn't help, though, that he's in unrequited love with his best friend and Commander of the Heartsteel, War-Prince Erik Lehnsherr.

Nation Building and other Diplomatic Negotiations by Pookaseraph

With the recent passage of a submissive registration law in the United Kingdom, there are now only two industrialized nation with a relatively stable government to have neither a mutant nor a submissive registration law. Erik Lehnsherr, the newly minted King of Genosha, and his Prime Minister Emma Frost intend to take advantage of this turn of events to bring the Xavier Institute to the island nation of Genosha. They both know bringing Charles Xavier, the noted activist of mutant and submissive rights, to the island will necessarily politicize the man, and create all manner of complications. With a constitution not yet finalized and external threats to Genoshan security all around them, Erik, Emma, and Charles will fight for what they believe in to shape Genosha into what it should be.

Do You Love Me by cgf_kat

Charles and Erik have been married for 25 years, thrown together by a mandatory post-apocalyptic pairing system attempting to increase and strengthen the population. They have seven children. They have never spoken of love, but change is on the horizon.

Ritual Self-Torture by TurtleTotem

For the following prompt: Shaw is King, Charles is his royal consort and Erik is a Knight/Lord. Shaw is sterile but his kingdom can't find out, so he asks Erik to impregnate Charles.

He doesn't know Erik and Charles are in love.

But I Would Walk Five Hundred Miles, And I Would Walk Five Hundred More by luninosity (series)

In which Charles isn't really an escort, Erik thinks he only wants a one-night stand, everybody's got a past, and there's quite a lot of sex on the way to the happy ending.

We Met At The Park by StarRose

AU, no powers, based on McAvoy's performance as Martin in Murder In Mind. Unable to sleep one night Erik takes a midnight walk in the local park. He finds himself being followed and propositioned by a rent boy named Charles, and begins to fall rather rapidly for his charms. Charles however has never known what love is, and doesn't recognise it even when it's staring at him in the face. As for Erik, he doesn't realise a creeping illness is slowly affecting Charles, and his dark past is something he couldn't have imagined.

Strict Machine by euphorbic

When Professor Charles F Xavier accepted a visiting professor position in Arizona, he did so in order to be geographically closer to his sister. What he did not expect to find was the living, breathing specter of the sportbike gang-oriented past he’d been trying to put to rest.

A tale of sport bikes, consequences, and sacrifice.

MAD Dogs by ClarkeStetler, Goosenik (series)

Charles and Erik are (loosely) friends with benefits. They don't share personal details, last names, or anything concrete about their lives. This is ruined rather spectacularly when Charles gets recruited by the Mutant Apprehension Division of the FBI. Surprised is a bit of an understatement for their reaction to finding themselves partnered up and sent out on cases with the team.

Bit of a detective fic? Really just an excuse for us to play around with MAD (Mutant Apprehension Division) that we created in Playing House.

A Doll's House by lachatblanche

Welcome to the Dollhouse, where all your dreams and fantasies come true. At a price. Based on the TV show Dollhouse.

[lxkeee]

TWO SIDES OF THE SAME COIN

—ALTERNATE UNIVERSE

Pairing: Azrael Eveningstar x Seraphim Angel! Reader

Genre: romance

Warnings: mentions of sex but not written into detail.

Notes: an alternate universe where [y/n]'s family is complete, Xavier doesn't have any daddy issues nor has any hatred for Charlie as he doesn't give any crap about her and Lucifer, where it was simply the wrong person and wrong time. Where it was Azrael who is endgame.

Additional notes: this is for the anon that requested an Azrael x reader fic 🫶 this has no relevance to the actual series but this was originally the route I wanted to write but didn't go through as it is a Lucifer x reader 😔

Swans, they tend to be the kind of creatures who would 'mate for life' choosing one partner till the end of their time, although there are instances where 'divorce' happens.

All throughout his life, Azrael made sure to be there for [y/n], his closest and most genuine friend. As the angel of death, most angels are wary of him. Unlike most angels, his appearance or type of fashion is on the darker spectrum, choosing to wear the colors black, gold, and white for his outfits and not to mention, his angel wings are as black as the abyss.

[Y/n] has been there for him, genuine with him and is not afraid of him. A rare gem indeed. At first, he only saw her as a friend but slowly and surely it developed into something more profound.

He got his heartbroken as the most beautiful angel of heaven made her his before he could. He had to pretend he was happy for them, he was happy for her—he could tell that Lucifer made [y/n] so happy and that is something he needed to respect.

Azrael kept his distance. Watching over her when he had the time.

Then Lucifer fucked up. Choosing to doom humanity and also breaking the heart of one of the kindest angels in heaven. Azrael watched as Lucifer was cast out of heaven together with Lilith, the first human woman. Azrael made sure to make eye contact with Lucifer as he fell. An eye contact carrying so many words despite the silence, you messed up, little duckling. Let the swan show you how to do it.

After Lucifer was banished, [y/n] fell into depression. She just lost the love of her life after all and on top of that, she was pregnant with that man's child.

Azrael promised to be there, to be her rock and moral support during these trying times, and so he did.

Azrael lessened his workload on earth, making sure to spend all of his free time with her, helping her during the pregnancy.

A broken soul fixing another broken soul.

He was there, he was there during childbirth, he was there all throughout Xavier's life.

It took a while, thousands of years actually before [y/n] finally removed the wedding ring Lucifer gave her.

“I think, I should stop holding on to the past.” [y/n] whispers to Azrael, they sat on the couch in the living room of her mansion. Azrael looked at her in surprise as he finally noticed the ring no longer present on her fingers. His eyes widened and [y/n] chuckled softly.

“It is what it is.” she says softly with a smile, placing her hand on top of Azrael's hand.

“Yes, I may have loved Lucifer but he chose to leave and I think I should stop holding on to someone who didn't even stop to think about his family. I think I am ready to give myself a second chance at love.” she whispers softly, Azrael's hand squeezed hers in assurance. Listening to her, something Lucifer didn't do.

Finally looking up at him, her eyes were gentle and filled with adoration, “Azrael, I was a fool. It took so long for me to realize that.... I liked you, I was so scared of the idea, scared of letting go over someone who didn't give a crap about me and his son. I am such a foo—”

Her voice was cut off as Azrael leaned down to press his lips against hers gently, not forceful. Enough to just their lips to slightly press, enough to shut her up.

“Shh... You're not, well... A little bit but that's not the point.” he says with a chuckle. Pale cheeks dusted with red as he shyly avoided her gaze.

“What matters is that... You realized and I am so happy right now..” he whispers softly, cupping her face with his hands.

[Y/n] looking at him with a blush on her cheeks, mesmerized and taken aback, “[Y/n] Caeles, I liked you... I like you a lot.” he whispers.

[Y/n]'s voice hitched softly, flustered by his confession. She smiled softly, “I liked you too. I'm sorry it took me a while to realize.” she says softly and Azrael laughs, not the usual mocking laugh he gives to others but the genuine one that she's privileged to hear.

“It's fine.”

The kiss that followed after was the sweetest kiss they ever experienced.

The two actually took their relationship slowly, focusing on healing and parenting Xavier—though, the boy was already old enough to understand.

Azrael and [y/n] got married when Xavier was 124 years old. The boy was happy that his parents actually got married.

The family was happy and had a healthy relationship.

Azrael built [y/n] a backyard tulip garden with a small river in both their heaven and earth homes. There he and [y/n] would spend swimming in the river in their swan forms, Xavier third wheeling as he watches his parents formed a heart together with their necks as swans.

During day offs, the couple would make sure to spend time with Xavier, asking the boy what he has been up to while they were away for work.

The three would spend their day outside having a picnic by the river.

Xavier doesn't have any daddy issues in this universe, he doesn't give two shits about his biology father.

Xavier could easily approach Azrael whenever he has a problem, a papa and mama's boy.

In the mansion in heaven, there's a large family portrait of the three that is hung on the living room wall.

Azrael standing behind the chair [y/n] was sitting on, Xavier standing on her right side. A regal look on their faces, slightly condescending even. The type of face rich people make during those royal portraits in movies? Yes, that.

Azrael and [y/n] truly love each other. Very protective and possessive.

Azrael often gifts his wife jeweleries, often gifting her sapphires as he knows she loves it.

Lovemaking is sensual and slow, doesn't happen too often but when they do. It's sensual and desperate. They can't get enough of each other.

Xavier has to leave the house quietly as he is traumatized.

[gumbootillustrations]

laurance's ref sheet!! it only took me a month and two different versions to finish lol

but yeah. backstory, lore, closeups, etc under the cut :3

laurance is the adopted son of hayden zvahl, a blacksmith, and joh zvahl, a jeweller, and grew up in meteli alongside his adoptive sister cadenza. cad's the reason why his hair is bright red when aph meets him en route to scaleswind - he's been dyeing it this colour since he was young so that he and cadenza could match and look more like siblings. as such, much of his colour scheme is based around soft reds and oranges, with some golds thrown in. additionally, his earrings (although u can't really see them here) were made by joh, alongside most of his other jewellery, before joh passed away a couple of years prior to aph showing up outside of phoenix drop. his armour is also a lot lighter than garroth and katelyn's due to his fighting style prioritising speed and mobility over strength and endurance - that, and the fact that he works around water a lot and can't let metal weigh him down too much.

after ungrth drags him out of the nether, laurance's colour scheme undergoes a major change - instead of being based around reds and golds, it shifts to be focused around greens and browns. laurance also dyes his hair back to its natural colour (brown), and due to the trauma of being forced through the realm barrier (and having his eyes cut out multiple times by gene), his eyes fade to a pale, milky green. there are other physical changes that come with being turned as well - his nails turn into talons, his ears become pointed, and, due to his now-undead nature, his heart stops beating. he also loses the need to breathe, although he keeps doing so to keep up the facade of being human (he really doesn't want to acknowledge the fact that he's undead now). however, around the start of season three (right before the main cast makes the trip to tu'la), he decides to dye his hair red again and return to the reds and golds that he loves (something something "reclaiming his fire" something something). it also doesn't help that his hair has started growing in a bright copper ever since they returned from o'khasis and xavier's relic had gone missing. surely these events can't be connected

not too many comments about laurance's out-of-armour/casual/tu'la arc outfit. his eyesight's dogshit now (due to the aforementioned events surrounding his turning n escape from the nether) so he technically needs glasses, but he never wears them unless someone (usually garroth) tells him to.

with laurance's shadow knight form, i rlly wanted to showcase how unnatural it is to him. it's big, and bulky, and covered in spikes n shit - it's entirely antithetical to laurance and his fighting style. personally, i think that a shadow knight's armour adapts to their fighting style and personality over time, but because laurance like. never uses this form it doesn't get the chance to adapt to him, although i added in a doodle of what his form might've evolved to look like had he used it more often.

uhh shadow knight lore stuff. shad is a psychopomp - at least, the fragment of his soul/essence/whatever that didn't get totally fucked up by the void is. however, the shadow lord (aka the fragment of shads soul/essence/whatever that did) tends to snatch souls that either a) die in the nether (like laurance n sasha) or b) are deemed to be useful to his cause of destroying irene (like gene and vylad) to make into shadow knights. different things play into how powerful a shadow knight is - gene, being part-mer'ai, being a descendant of kul'zak, and having memory manipulation magicks, is pretty powerful already, but when he's made into a death knell (aka a general in the shadow lord's army) his power can pretty much rival a relic wielder. laurance mayyyybe could've become a death knell if he wanted to, but unfortunately he has a stupid strong sense of justice so uh. yeah.

all shadow knights do get a boon from the shadow lord - it usually reflects their personality, their soul, or their past, and it always centres around blood, fire, or shadows (or a mix of some or all of these - for example, zenix's boon is that his blood essentially acts like napalm). laurance's reflects his childhood in meteli, a town built in a saltmarsh/estuary - his blood is stupid acidic (like acidic enough to melt through flesh, bone, and metal if he's not careful). however, for a long time, he assumes that his boon is being able to alter the temperature of metal (as sasha has told him that all shadow knight's blood is poisonous on some level - he just doesn't know that his blood is particularly poisonous) until vylad tells him that it probably isn't metal related.

uhh more lore stuff - this time regarding xavier, his relic, and plot stuff.

zane absorbs xavier's relic (sort of unwillingly?? like he wants power, and he wants to try and push back against his father's influence, but if he's being honest he would've preferred to take on esmund's relic (which is missing. weird.) but beggars can't be choosers so eh it's whatever), but because not everyone can wield a relic and not every relic can be wielded by every relic-wielder it sort of starts to eat away at his soul and fuck him up. this leads to the climactic battle of s1 in irene's cathedral dimension, which ends when garroth (who gets possessed by esmund's relic) kills zane by ripping xavier's relic out of him. when they get back to the overworld and realise what exactly that weird fuckoff hunk of metal that garroth yanked out of zane's chest is, they decide to give it to garroth for safe keeping - only for the relic to go missing when the main cast breaks into an occupied o'khasis to rescue zianna, although they don't realise it until they return home to phoenix drop. it's around this time that laurance travels to new meteli to catch up with cadenza and get her to dye his hair orange again, only for cadenza to discover that his hair is growing in a bright copper. they... sort of brush this off as a weird shadow knight biology thing until laurance gets into a fistfight with gene and transforms for the first time. it's a bit of a mess but hey we got there in the end.

but yeah i decided to tweak his design a lil bit from my lineup of the second war of the magi's divine warriors because i wasn't suuper happy w how his chestplate turned out n i wanted to tutu w it a bit.

anyway. laurance's ref sheet is fucking finally done. the next ref sheet will probs be either katelyns or an updated ref sheet for garroth since ive tinkered w his protector form a Lot and i probs need to add in a cold weather outfit (laurance doesnt need one bc shadow knights r weird n basically space heaters anyway) and his juror form.

as always, let me know if u have any questions!! :D

[size0forhollywood]

Metafiction

Pt 8

Content Warning: 21+, murder, drugging, fluff, smut, nsfw. Love making.

A/N: had to listen to the Bridgerton ost to get the vibes going for the end of this chapter...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Mhmm, that’s right. A girl and a hunter.”

The motel owner was talking on the phone, mindlessly flipping a gold coin between her fingers and chewing on her gum.

Her face twists, “ not my fault you sent men incapable of catching them. I did my part.”

A black feather falls in front of the motel owner.

“Fuc-!” She’s flung back against the wall behind her, black and red mist pinning her.

“Sylus!” She strains.

A black tendril picks up her phone from the ground and put its in Sylus’ hand. The caller has hung up already.

His red eyes are like lasers on the motel owner, watching her struggle.

“Where’s the girl?” His deep voiced boomed.

The motel owner starts writhing in pain, as the black and red mist starts to constrict her.

“I-I don’t know! They left without checking out!” She cries in pain.

“Who did you sell her out to?” He snarled.

“I didn’t!” She protested.

A black tendril wraps around her head and starts constricting. Her eyes going wide, looking like they’re about to burst from her skull.

“You all still think you can lie to me.”

The motel owner lets out a strained laugh.

“For the first time in years we have hope. You’ve been so distracted by this girl that you haven’t noticed what’s going on here anymore.”

Blood starts leaking out from her eyes and ears.

“The Woman is playing chess while you’re still stuck on checkers.” She laughs hysterically.

Her laugh turns into a scream as her head suddenly implodes. Fragments of skull, brain matter and blood spray on the wall.

“Boss, we’ve searched the surrounding area. You should come see this.” Kieran’s voice comes through on the earpiece.

“Checking out love.” He says to the decapitated motel owner’s body.

He catches up with Luke and Kieran who are standing just off the road in the dirt. Signs of a wanderer attack littered the ground and dead trees.

“Two sets of footprints in that direction but then they disappear once they’re back on the road.” Luke informs Sylus.

“Mephisto.”

Mephisto just caws and takes off into the sky, already knowing Sylus’ request.

You were within reach, he could feel it.

~

The sound of footsteps drag along the ground. Yours.

Xavier had one arm wrapped around you as you walk through the N109 Zone. You don’t know how long you two have been walking for.

Your mind was blank, broken from the mind games the wanderer tortured you with.

He didn’t say anything after your kiss. He just hugged you for a moment, letting you cry out the remainder of your emotions. Now you’ve got nothing left in you.

No fight. No will. Nothing.

Xavier’s tenderness to you over the last 48 hours has shown you just how messed up your life has been for the last few months with Sylus. And you detest yourself as one part of your heart still wants to go back. To run out of Xavier’s arms and find Sylus.

Xavier’s hand rubs up and down your shoulder. He could feel you tensing up.

“It’s okay.” He whispers.

Your body starts to tremble even more.

“I can’t go to Linkon with you..”

Xavier stops walking, his blue eyes searching your face. Trying to understand why you’re still so resistant.

“How many more things have to happen before you realise Linkon City is the safest place for you?”

You shake your head. “I need to find Sylus. He’s trying to help me get home.”

Xavier grazes the back of his fingers down your cheek.

“He’s manipulated you so much that you can’t see what he’s actually doing…” he frowns a little. “Sylus is a monster who does things for his own personal gain.”

You try to pull away but Xavier’s grip on you is too strong.

“No, it’s not like that. He’s not like that with me.” You keep trying to wriggle yourself free.

“Please Xavier, don’t take me to Linkon.” A dry sob escapes you.

Xavier looks at you with glassy eyes. “Forgive me.” He whispers.

“No. No, Xavier ?”

You feel a slight sting in the side of your neck. Your eyes glued to Xavier’s in shock before everything starts getting blurry. Your mind begins to turn off.

You slump in Xavier’s arms as the tranquilliser fully takes root. He pats the back of your head.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers to your unconscious body.

~ we’re getting knocked out a lot aren’t we y/n?

When you start to come to, something feels different. It’s as if your surroundings are bright while your eyes are still closed and you screw your eyes for a moment to go back to the familiar darkness.

Your head and body are laying on something soft and warm and it’s a struggle to want to open yours eyes but that damn light is forcing you to.

You still feel a bit woozy but you open your eyes taking in your surroundings, another bedroom. But it was so light and airy. A window which led to the balcony was open to let in a cool draft and natural light. You can hear the soft sounds of the city.

Once your head starts to feel like it isn’t spinning again you sit up in the bed. You can hear the sounds of someone rummaging around.

“Xavier?”

You hear footsteps from down the hall get louder.

Xavier appears with a glass of water in hand. He’s wearing jeans and a white hoodie.

He sits down next to you on the edge of the bed and holds the water out to you.

“Why?” Your voice hitched in your throat and you try to stop yourself from crying again.

“It was the only way.. I’m sorry.”

You bring your knees up to your chest and hug them. You look away from Xavier. Refusing his glass of water.

Xavier sighs and places the glass of water on the bed side table.

“Please try to drink it. It’ll make you feel better.” He stands up and starts making his way down the hall again, disappearing around the corner.

You stare out the open window, watching the curtains gracefully flap in the breeze. A little yellow and white bird perches itself on the balcony rail, tweeting a little song before flying off again.

What were you going to do now? How were you going to get word to Sylus that you’re in Linkon? Did you still want to let Sylus know? Was this truly the best place for you?

You feel a pain in your chest. If Xavier was going to help you he needs to know everything Sylus knows. You swing your legs over the side of the bed, a little wobbly on your feet but once you start walking you find your balance.

Xavier is sitting on his couch reading a comic book. An open packet of mini cookies in his lap. He’s so engrossed in the comic he doesn’t notice you standing in the living room.

You clear your throat. Xavier finally looks up. He gives you a soft smile and holds the packet of mini cookies up to you.

“Want some?”

You feel a small smile tug at your lips but you shake your head. “No I’m okay.”

“Okay.” He puts the packet on the coffee table and moves over to one side of the couch.

“Do you want to sit down with me?”

You nod and sit down next to Xavier on his couch. Trying not to encroach too much into his personal space. Xavier puts the comic down and looks at you.

“I want to tell you everything.” You whisper.

Xavier doesn’t say anything he just nods.

“I think you know I’m not from here. I’m from a world where none of this is real.” You shift a little.

“I mean all of this. Linkon, the N109 Zone, you, Sylus… in my world it’s all fiction. You’re mobile video game characters..” your cheeks turn a slight shade of pink. “For a dating game…”

You avoid Xavier’s gaze feeling too embarrassed to look at him but you continue talking.

“One day I found an injured baby crow outside my house. I patched him up and nursed him. When I was changing his bandages his eyes.. they started glowing.”

You bite your lip.

“Next thing I know a wormhole appears above me and I get sucked in. When I fell out of it I appeared inside of Sylus’ base.”

You finally get the courage to look at Xavier.

“So, the unknown protocores at this other wormhole site, I honestly have no idea. I don’t know why they’re there or what they have to do with me. Please believe me Xavier.”

Xavier looks away from your gaze his hand rubbing the back of his neck. Face flushed.

“So that’s how you know my name…”

“I.. it’s not as weird as it sounds I promise.”

Xavier glances back at you.

“I didn’t say that..”

A silence falls between you two as you stare each other red faced.

Xavier finally looks away.

“Is it okay, if I report this to my Captain?”

Honestly you’re shocked he’s even asking you. You assumed he’d tell her anyways but him asking for your consent.. it was actually kind of sexy.

Xavier served as a pretty good distraction to your mind over the next couple of weeks. You two had a nice routine going at his apartment. You cooked dinner and kept the apartment clean when he was at work.

He tried to add your fingerprint to his door lock but your finger print couldn’t be recognised. So, He went out of his way to change the locks and gave you a key.

Xavier let you sleep in his bed and he would sleep on the couch. You told him he shouldn’t have to do that but he insisted that he could sleep anywhere and get a good rest.

He even bought you a whole range of clothes and other personal hygiene necessities.

You could feel you two were getting closer, emotionally. Through gentle touches, if he was home early while you were making dinner he’d come up behind you and give you a back hug, resting his chin on your shoulder.

Sometimes you’d snuggle up to each other on the couch while watching a movie.

It was amazing. It really was.

But your heart still ached for Sylus.

Every day you’d go to that field with the cherry blossom trees. The one Sylus, despite it weakening him, laid down with you soaking up the sunlight.

You sit down in the field. Praying to yourself that Sylus will just know to come here and take you away with him.

But every day you’re there he doesn’t show up and the ache in your heart deepens. Did he forget about you? Were you no longer his problem?

You wipe a singular tear from your cheek and head to the shops to buy some snacks for Xavier.

When you get back to the apartment the smell of smoke tickles your nose, you rush to unlock the door worried you left something on.

You rush to the kitchen to see Xavier frantically moving around.

“Xavier? What are you doing?”

He put a pan that was smoking in his sink and ran cold water over it.

“I got home early and wanted to cook you something..” he looked at you embarrassed “but I fell asleep.”

You can’t help but burst out laughing. You walk up to Xavier and hold his face in your hands.

“You really don’t have to do anything like that, I’m your guest here, I need to earn my keep.” Your smile was wide.

He placed a hand on your hip as he held your gaze, that familiar pink glow across his cheeks. The small touch making your heart beat faster.

“Um..we better open the windows to let the smoke out..” you whisper.

Xavier nods and you go to all the windows and open them. Letting the cool breeze drift through out the house and clear out the burnt smell.

“Well lucky I bought some snacks.” You joked. “Do you wanna watch a movie while we’re eating them?”

“I’d love that.”

You move some pillows around on the couch, Xavier peeps into the shopping bags.

“These are my favourite..” he barely whispered.

“What was that Xav- huh?”

Xavier came up behind you and wrapped his arms around you, he nestled his face against the nape of your neck.

“Uh… Xavier?”

“You smell nice…”

You feel a knot in your stomach. What was with the sudden affection? Just when you think your cheeks couldn’t get any redder they do.

“Xavier… what are you..”

His grip loosens around you, “nothing.” He whispers, his breath against your neck sending tingles down your whole spine.

Xavier lets you go and flops himself onto the couch, holding an arm out.

“Gonna join me?”

You smile and cuddle up next to him. His arm around your shoulder holding you close to him.

He picks a movie but you don’t seem to be able to concentrate on it. In fact you’re more aware of how Xavier’s hand had slowly moved from your arm to your waist through out the movie.

How his fingers were drawing circles and lines going from your hip back to your waist.

How every time he chuckled whenever there was a funny part in the movie and eventually you found yourself looking away from the tv and just focusing on his beautiful face.

The way he licks his lips after eating a snack. You feel your own lips part slightly at the sight of it, a desire building in you to taste his lips.

You shake your head and force yourself to focus back on the movie.

The movie finishes and you untangle yourself from Xavier’s grip sitting up and stretching your arms.

“Did you not like the movie? You didn’t laugh once.”

You freeze, arms up in the air refusing to look back at him.

“Oh I guess I just had a few things on my mind.”

Xavier moves to the edge of the couch till his thighs are touching yours.

“Are you okay?” His palm rests on your lower back and the other hand rests on your thigh.

You pull your arms down and turn your head to look at him.

He has a look in his eyes, something you think you know but there’s no way right?

“I guess I’m just a bit tired..”

Your breath quickens as Xavier leans in closer to your face. His hand giving your thigh a gentle squeeze.

“Xavier…” you feel yourself leaning closer too, lips almost touching.

“I think I should go to bed..” you whisper.

Neither one of you move, Xavier swallows before gently nodding.

“Okay..” he whispers back. He stops touching you and sits back on the couch. “Thank you for the snacks.” He smiles at you but the smile doesn’t reach his eyes.

“.. no problem.”

You quickly head to the bathroom, feeling like you need to have a nice cold shower.

You let the water fall down your body, head resting against the tiles. What are you doing? You can’t let yourself go there with Xavier, right? You two have a good thing going. Don’t ruin it! You tell yourself.

Once you’re dressed in your nightie you open the door and Xavier is standing outside the bathroom shirtless holding a towel.

“Oh sorry..”

“No, I’m sorry..” Xavier steps aside so you can pass.

You turn back to face him, holding your hands together in front you.

“Goodnight Xavier.”

He leans against the door to the bathroom and smiles. “Goodnight… darling.”

You blush at the pet name and hurriedly walk to the bedroom. Xavier’s eyes watching you the entire time.

You were lying in bed for hours, watching the shadows dance across the roof. Unable to sleep. Your mind only thinking about one thing. Xavier.

What’s the harm of giving into one kiss? You’ve shared one with him before and nothing happened.

You feel an ache that you can’t ignore growing inside…and in between your legs. Tossing and turning. You sit up in bed and stare down the hallway.

Okay, you’re going to do it.

You get out of bed and make your way to the living room. Just before you reach the end of the hall Xavier appears. His expression mirroring yours, his cheeks red.

You both close the distance between you and he wraps his arms around you lifting you up and kissing you. Your arms resting on his shoulders, fingers tangling in his hair as you deepen the kiss.

His lips felt so soft against yours, your whole body felt warm from his touch. As if stars were bursting inside you.

You pull away, foreheads pressed together.

“I’ve been wanting to do that all night.” Xavier admits, he playfully nudges his nose against yours.

“Xavier… I don’t want to sleep alone tonight.”

Xavier smiles and starts walking to the bedroom. He moves so effortlessly and gracefully while carrying you.

Once he gets to the bed he lays you down gently, a finger caressing your cheek for a moment. He looked beautiful in the soft glow of the moonlight.

He lays down next to you, on his side looking up and down your body. You turn over to face him.

Taking him in, his soft smile, his naked torso. His boxers sitting dangerously low on his hips.

You make eye contact with him again, your face flushed but so was he. You both having the same thoughts about each other.

“Xavier.” You whisper as you bring a hand to his face. Gently palming his cheek.

Xavier leans into your touch, his pink cheeks and nose making his eyes seem more blue somehow. He was gorgeous.

Xavier has already healed your mind… maybe he could heal your heart too?

He rests his hand on your hip giving it a gentle squeeze.

"I like having you here with me. You make me look forward to coming home." Xavier whispers.

"I like waiting for you." You admit.

Something flickers in Xavier's eyes, he leans over, gently forcing you to lay on your back again and presses himself on top of you now. You can feel his erection pressing up against your inner thigh and it makes your mouth go dry.

He kisses you again, a bit more aggressively than before. Both of your desires rising to the surface. Wanting to be set free.

You slip your tongue out and prod at his lip, he opens his mouth and accepts your tongue. Both of you fighting for dominance. His hands start exploring your body, wanting to feel every inch of you and commit it to his memory. Xavier starts leaving a trail of kisses along your jaw and down your neck. Nibbling and sucking in various spots, leaving his mark on you.

Tiny moans escape your mouth. His lips feel so good against your skin. Xavier pulls his head up for a moment to look at you.

"Are you sure?"

You nod your head. "Yes, so sure."

Xavier smiles as he sits back, pulling you up with him. His hands pull at the hem of your nightie and start lifting it up. You lift your arms up so it can slide easily off you. Xavier leans down and starts kissing your chest, working his way to take the fullness of your breasts in his mouth. His hand playing with the other breast, massaging, gently squeezing. His lips lock around your nipple, sucking, nibbling, swirling his tongue around to taste as much as possible.

Your hands tangle themselves in his hair, his soft blonde locks sending extra sensations through your fingers.

"Mm that feels good Xav..."

Your moan and compliment seems to spur him on as he starts to get more aggressive. His desire burning for you. He pushes you back down onto your back. The sudden movement sending a wave of excitement through you. His fingers hooks the waist band of your panties and he starts to shimmy them off you. You lift your hips off the bed to make it easier for him.

"You're so beautiful darling." He says as he starts kissing your hip.

You can feel the anticipation building in your stomach as he slowly inches closer to your center. Where its aching and just begging to be touched. You bite your lower lip, supressing your sounds of pleasure.

Xavier is hovering over your cunt, you can feel his breath on your mounds. "Don't hide that beautiful voice. I want to hear everything."

He drags his tongue in between your folds, getting the taste of you for the first time. It was intoxicating for him. You let out a moan as he goes back again, getting his tongue as deep as he can go inside your cunt. Wanting to feel your heat on his tongue, to taste your arousal. “Nng. Xavier..” you gasp out. He loves the way your body starts moving under him, wanting to grind up to his face, telling him that you want more. He starts to give your clit attention, which earns him more moans and more thrusting to his face. But he doesn’t give you more yet. No, he’s enjoying making you squirm, making you chase that friction that you’re so desperate for. Your legs start to tremble as you feel such an overwhelming stimulation on your clit and you haven’t even orgasmed yet.

“Xav.. please..” you beg.

You need to feel something inside you. To take the intensity away from your clit. His tongue was like magic. Xavier groans when he hears you begging and he almost wants to give in. He doubles down moving his whole face with his tongue. Adding a lot of pressure then taking it away.

You start to whimper, a pressure is building in your lower belly. Tears sting your eyes. You’re bucking your hips up a bit harder into his face now, so absolutely desperate to feel something other than the welcome assault of his tongue on your clit.

“Xavier.. please… fuck me.” Your whimper and moan.

God any resolve he had left was gone. He pulled away licking his lips. Xavier removed his boxers swiftly, his erection free at last. Precum leaking from the tip.

He lines himself up with your soaking wet pussy. Pressing the head in between your dripping folds. You bite your lip. Xavier lifts one of your legs to rest on his hip. His hand gripping just above your knee tightly. His blue eyes land on yours as he slowly inserts himself, his cheeks red. You don’t break eye contact with him as he slides in deeper, until he buries himself to the hilt.

“You feel incredible..” he gasps. Yours hands are on his shoulders, bringing him closer to you. Xavier rests his forehead against yours as he starts to slowly thrust. Getting used to the feeling of you around him.

Once he feels you relaxing he starts to go faster, bringing his cock almost all the way out and then slamming it back in. Your fingers nails are digging into his skin, but the pain just sends Xavier hungry for more. You’re moaning against his lips as he gets faster and harder, his cock kissing your cervix with every thrust.

“M-more Xav..” you moan out. “Oh.. fuck darling…” Xavier responds.

He pauses to throw your legs over his shoulders and then resumes fucking into you. Your hands now gripping the bed sheets, knuckles turning white.

“Mm Xav… that feels good!” He brings a hand back to your clit, massaging it with his fingers while he jackhammers into you. You throw your head back in so much pleasure as you feel an orgasm approaching.

“Xavier.. I’m gonna..”

“Ah I know darling… you’re getting so.. tight..” His finds your sweet spot with his cock and drives into you. Until your moans are uncontrollable. Your hot, wet, plush walls squeeze around Xavier’s cock. And he struggles to hold on.

But then he feels you vibrate around him as you orgasm. The spasm driving him crazy and pushing him over the edge. You both cum together. Your combined groans and moans like music to his ears. Once he feels you relax he starts to pull out his spent cock. Shuddering as he does.

He puts your legs down and then collapses next to you. His chest rising and falling. Sweat glistens his face and body. His fringe stuck to his forehead. He turns his head to look at you and smiles seeing your satisfaction.

Xavier pulls you into his arms and kisses your forehead. “I could do this with you forever..”

within minutes he’s asleep. You chuckle to yourself as you get comfortable in his arms. Listening to the sound of his breathing. Letting it act as a lullaby to help you fall asleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[seldnei]

“There’s forces gathering all round you and in you, impossible to miss, waiting for their moment. You won’t be able to hide behind your sister forever, not from them or from you.”

Corwyn Teachout has a knack for finding people. Her sister, Gwen, has a knack for hurting them. That should be enough to keep them alive after their mother dies and the orphanage burns down, at least until they’re both old enough to join a gang and start down the long road to ruling the criminal underworld. But the Teachouts live in Cobbler’s Hill: black, withered heart of the city of San Xavier, home to alchemical engineers, witches, gang lords, and monsters both clockwork and flesh. The Hill and its denizens have plans for the girls, from tracking a lost fiancée to fighting the heirs to gangsters’ empires, from becoming the protegees of the Hill’s Old Lady to piecing together the murder of the city’s most notorious gang lord. And that doesn’t even take into account the house that likes to eat people.

It’s possible that becoming legendary is a crookeder path than they expected.

It’s possible the Teachouts are going to make their own.

And now, the Tumblr version ...

Cobbler's Hill: there's a witch and a haunted house and ace and aro and gay and bi characters. Also pirates and gangsters and a hooker with a heart of gold because you always need one of those. Girls beating people up. Monsters. Snark for days.

One line summary of the novel: "god forbid women do anything."

Available from Apple Books, Barnes and Noble, Amazon, Kobo, Smashwords, and check your local library's Overdrive/Libby/Hoopla app!

[angelfirstclass]

Cherik- the heart and soul of X-men 97.

So whether you ship them together or think of them as brothers or whatever, the relationship between Erik Lensherr and Charles Xavier is the heart and soul of this show and dare I say the entire franchise in whatever form. We see their friendship and being nemeses and relationship in pretty much all versions of the X-men and Xmen 97 is chock full of Cherik gold.

The series starts out with Magneto inheriting the X-men and Xavier's entire estate which says a lot about their close relationship and Xavier's trust in Magneto. He trusts and relies on him even above his precious X-men as they are caught off guard by this news and are even hurt by it like Scott. In this act, Xavier follows his heart and feels that by doing this he gets Magneto to come to his path and for the X-men to lose an adversary and also be less burdened with leading the team.

Going forward, Magneto loyally follows Xavier's path honoring his memory and legacy. Even reluctantly and with gritted teeth his restraint is "proof of (his) desire to honor Charles Xavier's dream of mutant human coexistence". To see how far he was before as a X-men adversary to one who truly wanted to honor Xavier was very extreme and a testament to Erik's love for Xavier. He goes through a lot in the series even undergoing a massacre and even through that event continues to try to be a X-man and show restraint and be a leader, but eventually it becomes too much for him.

The scene in episode 2 is very telling of their relationship when Magneto speaks of the helmet and how he could always sense Charles as a presence. "I was in his thoughts and he in mine." Romantic or not, this line highlights just how important the two of them were to each other and that's love is it not? Then Rogue hits the nail on the head by stating that Magneto was worried about if he felt how much Xavier still loved him, Magneto wouldn't be able to go through with his crusade. Magneto canonically lays out that he knew/knows that Xavier loves him.

At the end of ep 2, Magneto is seen looking at a picture of Charles and himself when they were young that is kept framed on Charles' desk. Whether that was Charles' picture (which I suspect) or put there by Erik, the implications are clear the two are important to each other despite the past or their differences. Storm is talking about finding connection and pans on Rogue and Magneto and Morph and Wolverine, but also stands for Charles and Erik.

In ep 5, Magneto is considered to rule over Genosha because of his trial and because Xavier trusted Magneto with the X-men. He mentions the pivotal bar scene we will see later and what a moment it is for Magneto. At this moment, he is seeing his and Xavier's dreams coming true which he never thought possible. It turns out Magneto was right, but at this moment Xavier's dream seemed real and it was Magneto that was leading the way to get them there.

At this point I have to mention Rogue in that she is the only other person that is connected to Erik and understanding of his thoughts. I like Rogue and don't think that it gets in the way of Cherik. Rogue has seen Erik's inner thoughts through her absorption powers or by the time spent talking to him. She is the one who gets the Cherik relationship better than most and understands the love the two have for each other and how long and deep their relationship is. She is not an obstacle to Cherik, she may be the Queen Erik wants (particularly when he thinks Charles is gone), but is also someone who gets the Cherik thing and understands. This leaves so much room for love triangles and Magneto bi loveness galore. Rogue GETS it, she's not going to stand in the way.

Then leading to the finale, there is so much Cherik even a non-Cherik fan is left with no doubt that there is something there between the two. Whether its the salty "Welcome home, cheater" vibes about the Bird Queen, the bickering about Genosha and Bastion and Magneto's response, and the scintillating together in Erik's mind sequences, there is so much Charles-Erik action going on that the writers gifted us.

Granted, I was sort of pissed at Xavier in the first part of the finale for not being on Magneto's side and being so harsh on him after all that Erik had been through as well as thinking that going into his head was a violation. I still kind of feel that way, but I'm more understanding of Xavier's flaws (he's not perfect, not by a longshot) and also of how much he loves Erik despite violating his mind. The fact that he was willing to lose his own mind and also endure the tragedies and pain of Erik despite knowing Erik's tragic history is a testament to how much he loves Erik. Magneto may have conflicting feelings about what happened after season 1, but I don't think he's going to ever forget how Xavier basically talked him out of oblivion and made him come back to himself talking about love and family.

Magneto saves the day, but it must be remembered that Professor Xavier did not have to return Magneto back to his mind or the world. Magneto has been a fierce adversary in the past and is currently causing major mayhem to the planet and still Xavier considers him a brother and encourages him to recognize and become Magneto again. In another storyline, Rogue could have absorbed Magneto while he was down and got the planet up and running, but that's not the direction the writers went with because it didn't highlight the Cherik relationship as well. The writers wanted to focus in on Cherik and so I again repeat that Charles and Erik's relationship is the thesis, the plot, the heart of the show and I can't wait to see more.

[the-yandere-arcade]

family information

Yandere Emperor Quentin comes from a long like of emperors and empresses dateing back hundreds of years. His father passed some time ago his name was Tyson His mother is still alive though very old her name is Esme. She is a very sweet women and will give you tips on things her son likes He also has two younger sisters twin girls called Daisy and Delia . They are identical in all ways but Daisy has a beauty mark under her left eyes whilst Delias beauty mark is above her lip

he is very close with his sister's and has been known to let them do his makeup and paint his nails something his darling will never know.

Yandere detective Xavier comes from a poor background he only knew his mother and was an only child. So he doest have much family His mother is a hardworking siren known for being the most successful on their hunts for sailors her name is Heather . She raised Xavier on the coast of Australia a place where she deemed safe enough to raise her young son.

Yandere Model

West doest have any family . He was born to teen parents who gave him up when he was five as they couldn't look after him of course back then he was a girl. He moved from foster home to foster home never being able to settle anywhere. He came out as trans when he was 13 , but that was often ignored by his foster family's. He aged out the system at 18 and has worked hard to get where he is at today.

There is one person he classed as a brother despite them not being related and that's his best friend Ryan (oc). The two of them are very close despite being total opposites West being a famous model whilst Ryan is a professor but despite and the fact they are not related in their eyes they are brothers.

Yandere online friend

Domino is the complete opposite of West. He has a big family, with 2 brothers and 3 sisters.

His father is a hardworking business man by the name of Recce

His papa is a man with a heart of gold names Eric His oldest sister is a force to be reckoned with who is called June. His other sister is very much like there papa she is called April. His oldest brother is a musical loving man by the name of Alexander. His other brother is the typical nerdy kid by the name of Chase. His youngest sister is a sweet ten year old who loves dolls by the name of May.

Yandere Bully

Tyler has a smaller family he lives with his Dad and twin brother. His dad is mostly absent being a pilot means he is away most of the time . His name is George. His twin brother is the opposite of him. He is more of the nature type who is always found in mud looking at different animals . His name is Robin

Yandere serial killer

Angel can't remember his family , he doest know them but he has two 'adopted' brothers. They share the cave together and are all killers Lucifer (oc) is a deer hybrid who befriended Angel around 500 years ago and they have always called themselves brothers. Levi (oc) is the last brother . He is a cat hybrid who was picked up by Lucifer , levi was raised by angel and Lucifer since he was only a toddler when he was found. They all class eachother as brothers and looks after eachother

sorry for the late post I got a throat infection so I am struggling to breath and all that

[spaceorphan18]

X-Men 97 Episode 9 Thoughts

Ooff, I have some very complicated feelings about all of this. But unsurprisingly I have a lot to say about Rogue...

When I read that Beau DeMayo's favorite comic book was X-Men #25 I figured two things were going to happen -- that they'd get Magneto to pull out Wolverine's adamantium and that Rogue would play the Colossus role of going with Magneto.

And, the more I think about it -- this entire season was crafted to get to that moment - the moment of Magneto pulling out Wolverine's adamantium. It just feels like everything was written around one dude's past traumas. And I mean, while I'm not happy with the guy - I do get how you end up doing that with fiction.

Shame that X-Men #24 wasn't his favorite. We'd be having a whole different discussion...

I understand how we got here. I understand Rogue's grief and her in story decision making (mostly). I understand what the writers were going for. But, my god, it just sucks. It sucks that they did this to her. It sucks that this show needs to compress so much into so little time that there's no real time to let the show breathe and form organically. It sucks that they've isolated her as a character so that the grief would consume her so that we'd get to this point.

Rogue dreaming about feeling Remy and waking up only for Nightcrawler to tell her it isn't real broke me. Rogue in that trench coat broke me. Rogue deciding to go with Magneto so she could play the Colossus role -- and the fact that Remy died so she could get there - makes me angry.

It's not about love triangle shenanigans, I'm glad that that's really not a part of it. But they did the whole triangle for her to have it make /more/ sense that she'd do it. Because sans that, she wouldn't have. It was written purposely so she'd be in a mental state where it narratively does make (some) sense that she'd go with Magneto.

And I just... thanks, I hate it.

But also, I don't know where we go from here? The X-Men beat Bastion in the finale. Yay? At what cost? They've clearly set up Onslaught, which, yeah, okay, let's do that mess. But character wise... where do we go from here? What do you do with Rogue's character now?

I mean, there are some answers. I don't really love any of them for her.

X-Men, despite all the darkness, always was about hope. And I'm wondering where the hope in this series is. Because despite grand standing speeches from Xavier, I don't see it. If the finale can't give us any of that, then I don't see a reason to go on watching. Which really does break my heart :(

*sigh*

Some other things:

I do kind of love Rogue's non-reaction to the fact that Magneto is alive. it's just so glossed over. Due to the time compression, the writing of this show, while it has moments, isn't as even as people make it out to be.

I do kind of wonder if we'll get a scene with Rogue standing at Remy's grave, only for him to not be in it.

I'm glad Storm is back, she's the only character (along with Nightcrawler) that I really care about in this mess. (Obvs beyond Rogue)

I'm sad Storm didn't have any reaction to Remy's death though.

I did like the little Storm and Jean moment - such a good friendship, so sad that we only saw two minutes of it the entire season.

I feel like this show misses the mark on women... were there any in the writer's room??

...did they really just kill off Jean again? *sigh* (There's no body though...)

The blue and gold teams thing made me laugh for some reason. Oh, they're just pushing so hard to make things happen only for it to feel hollow.

Idk, I just feel meh about everything else, tbh.

[honey-minded-hivemind]

sorry for not interacting, I have no excuse, I forgot tumblr existed-

the creator reader sounds awesome, like sagau but your own, like imagine if reader was a YouTuber who made commentary and stuff and decided to go over X-men,how would they feel about that?

It's fine, @crowwithguns ! You don't have to reply or look if you don't want to! Just check in whenever you want!

If Reader was a YouTuber or MeeTuber or WeeTuber or whatever their world's version is, i imagine they'd be brutal yet sweet when mentioning the characters, especially if they have favorites. Examples being:

Mentioning Scott: "Laser light show going on here, but has a heart of gold. He's such a good guy, I mean, look at his little face! Who could stay mad at him?!"

Mentioning Rogue (plus Mystique): "Give this girl therapy! Let her have a boyfriend or girlfriend or someone! And Raven, start being a mom! Stop tossing people off of cliffs! Stop traumatizing this child and let her have happiness!"

Mentioning Logan: "Yes, YES! You are good at this parenting thing, for being born in the 1800s! I wish you were my dad, seriously, you probably are everyone's choice. Good job, little angry Canadian guy!"

Mentioning Charles Xavier: "Charles! Be a parent a bit more! You need to let them be kids! Take your adopted herd of teens to the beach! Or to Disney! You better be doing that! See, this is why you need to take a parenting class! Someone get this man a parenting book!"

Mentioning Magneto: "... I want to kick your *ss so hard right now... Why would you do ThAT TO YOUR CHILDREN?! CHARLES, WHERE ARE YOU?! MENTALLY SMACK SOKE SENSE INTO YOUR BOYFRIEND!"

Mentioning Hank: "He is perfect just the way he is and is a 10/10 on being a parent, good job, Hank, you are doing great🙂"

Mentioning Sabretooth (plus Logan): "... I really, really like you, and I don't know why... Why do you and Logan always fight when you see each other though? Seriously? Each and every time. Does it ever get boring? Is he your brother? Your friend? Your son? You two need to talk it out for once! And knowing the both of you, it will turn into a bloody fight in the snow and end with, yet again, another person being tossed off a cliff... Sweet pumpkin pie, why do I... Seriously, how do I like you two?"

Reader, mentioning the show (can be X-Men Evo or a fanon version of X-Men AU): "These guys have gotten me through some rough times. Even if they fight and argue, I love how they're a family. It's really nice to see that... Man, it's been, what, how long since I saw this show/made this au/read this book/helped create this universe... It was, and always will have, a place in my heart. And my mind. Heh... I hope they enjoy themselves. It's quite the adventure~!"

All of the X-Men characters: blushing, mumbling a little, then wondering if they just heard the Creator compliment them and say they loved them...

All of them when a long time of Reader not visiting (dreaming) has passed: Xavier, do something! They haven't responded to us! Where are they? We want them back!😖😣😫

Xavier: ... Have I ever mentioned my idea to bring them here? Where they can be our friend/child/student/sibling/loved one?

Everyone else: We're worried you even thought of that, but yes, please, continue-