#now just don’t think of ‘let him come’ being Erik hoping Charles will finally fight for him and say they should have been together

[tonystarkfucksaround]

I think it’s a little unfair, because while it’s true that it could’ve been the only solution in the end, Erik didn’t really seem all that interested in an alternative anyway, regardless of whether or not Charles had offered one.

Of course any take at this point is just a speculation, but I honestly believe that Charles was actually hoping to come up with a plan together with Erik: the night before Cuba he said himself that Shaw had to be stopped, and Erik interrupted him, saying that he intended to kill Shaw instead.

But Charles never actually said that Shaw didn’t need to die.

What he did was tell Erik that killing Shaw would not bring him peace, and I think we can all agree that it didn’t, did it? Erik had to do it, but his whole life up until that point had been built with that moment in mind, he most likely never hoped to live through it; there’s a psycological phenomenon (I’ve heard it under the name of goal achievement syndrome, or Martin Eden syndrome) when a person who invests their whole life into reaching a single great goal can’t feel satisfaction upon reaching it, feeling hollow and depressed instead, which makes sense - they’ve reached their final point, they have nothing else now to live for.

I think that’s what Charles is afraid of, that this is what’s awaiting Erik. And who knows, maybe they could’ve come up with a different plan, but do you really think that Erik would’ve listened? The night before Cuba, before confronting Shaw at last, with very good chances that he’ll finally, after years on years of stalking him, would get his revenge - he wouldn’t hear anything about it.

And then again, Charles didn’t let Shaw go, did he? He let Erik kill him, the only thing he yelled at him was ‘be the better man’ - but did he really mean it as a ‘don’t kill him’? I always kind of thought that by ‘don’t do it’ he meant the helmet and shutting Charles out. And as for the better man - right after Erik put on the helmet, he literally said that he actually agreed with Shaw about everything, about being the future and having to fight the humans; that had to be on the tip of the tongue, no way had Charles not seen it in his mind, no way did Charles not know what Erik decided to do right after, which course he would take.

So Shaw had to go, and Charles might not have liked it, but I don’t think he ever really disagreed with it. But what happened next? The whole spiel about the better race? Trying to follow through with Shaw’s plan of killing everyone on the ships and proving that they really were dangerous, starting a war right on the heels of preventing another one without ever discussing the options or offering an alternative? Was that necessary?

I’m not saying that Erik was wrong - he told Charles what would happen as soon as the world would find out about the mutants, and it did. I’m also not saying that Charles was right, and he did say probably the worst possible thing he could say. But I do think that it’s unfair to say that Charles is the only one who tells Erik what to do (or not to do) without bringing up a discussion.

It’s not about the lack of a viable alternative on either of their parts, it’s about them both being far too stubborn to think of a viable compromise, with both of them thinking that they have the only right opinion.

I think we give Erik too much flack for going ahead and killing Shaw in Cuba, even while Charles was holding his mind. What was the alternative? Because I never heard anyone actually offer another plan. Maybe before they got there Charles may have thought he could hold Shaw for a while while they work out containment, but once they are there Charles says himself that he can't hold Shaw very long. So a nuclear powered Shaw is ready to blow, killing everyone on the beach, everyone on the ships, and quite probably kicking off WWIII. What was Charles'plan? I think Erik's actions are the only way any of them got out of there alive. Because Charles is very good at telling Erik what not to do, but rarely if ever actually gives any viable alternative.

[hraishin]

Au-gust Prompt: Day One - Ancient Gods

So, I was looking at the Au-gust prompts and staring very hard at the Ancient Gods prompt because I am a mythology whore (affectionate) and suddenly I remembered how I cried during my college class about Pompeii cause I'm also very sensitive. Turns out I managed to find a way to put those two things together and shove it into a cherik fic for the prompt (which I actually wanted to do for a while, but only now it clicked). Hope you like this, sorry for the angst (I'm not really sorry)

I'll be posting it to Ao3 later, most likely. Enjoy!

WC: 1.2k+

-

"Please, you have to leave!" Charles tried, holding the man's shoulders tightly with his hands, his gaze urgent.

He could've tried bending the man's mind, could've placed the suggestion for that man and his family to leave that place as fast as they could, but it would be dangerous. The others would find out about Charles' interference, would punish him for it, and the fate of those humans would be worse. He knew that the family's life was doomed, knew the Fates would cut the threads of their lives in a few hours, and he knew he shouldn't interfere with the Fates' work.

Still, he had to try. 

"This town will burn," Charles said more urgently, and he knew his fingers were bruising the man's skin as he tried to move away from Charles' grip. His children behind him seemed terrified. "You can still leave-"

The man managed to take Charles' hands away from him, pushing Charles to the ground. He fell down with a grunt, body against the hard stone ground, curling his body as an ox almost stepped on his head as it pulled a cart through the streets, its owner shouting angrily at Charles to be careful.

"Stay away from me and my family," the man who Charles had tried to save warned, a scowl on his face as Charles' heart broke.

The ground rumbled as the Vesuvius became more and more active, ready to destroy and kill everything around it. Everyone seemed to ignore it — it wasn't the first tremor they felt, but he knew that soon they'd feel the last.

As Charles started getting up, his pride stained by the treatment he received, he felt a hand grab him by the back of his tunic, forcing him up before the same hand grabbed his arm, pulling him quickly through the street until they were in a tight side alley. 

There was only so much that Charles could take, and he felt himself grow irritated by how he was being handled. He was a god, after all, and he was about to make sure the person who pulled him to the alley knew that when he saw Erik's face in front of him, stoic as always, although his eyes seemed dark.

"What do you think you're doing?" Erik rasped out, letting go of Charles' arm to glare at him. "You're lucky I found you before the others did."

"Why?" Charles replied stubbornly, almost growling as Erik sighed loudly, too used to that stubbornness to not be surprised. "Would they try to kill me for this?"

"You surely remember Prometheus." Charles winced, even if his anger didn't dissipate. "Don't be a fool, Charles-"

"A fool?" Charles asked, Erik's mouth closing immediately at the way Charles' eyes glared at him. "They are punishing those people for nothing-"

"Those people are disregarding us, or have you forgotten?" Erik spit back, their eyes locked together. "They're doomed, Charles. Accept it."

"You don't believe that," Charles said then, his voice calmer now as he saw Erik's jaw clench at the truth in Charles' words. "Don't forget I know your thoughts, Erik. And I know you."

"You wouldn't let me forget even if I wanted to."

Charles stepped forward then, his hands holding Erik's face as the other god widened his eyes slightly. The last time Charles had seen Erik eye to eye, just the two of them, they had fought — he still remembered the earth shaking around them, the way every human who had the bad luck of being next to them had become disoriented, their minds fogged up by Charles' anger — so the reaction was understandable. Still, Erik didn't pull away.

"You awakened Vesuvius, you can put it to rest. Erik, please-"

"You know I can't." Erik shook his head, his voice almost a whisper, pulling Charles' hands from his face like they burned. "Don't ask that of me. If I disobey the order-"

"Say it was me. Tell them I took hold of your mind and I'll take the punishment."

"And then what, Charles?" Erik loudly asked, Charles' eyes closing as he lowered his head. "You'll be punished and- and taken away from me, and then I'll have to awaken the Vesuvius again, and all that effort will be for nothing."

Charles kneeled on the ground, defeated, as he felt another tremor shaking the ground. He felt Erik moving in front of him, kneeling before he felt Erik's forehead meeting his, blue eyes finally opening to stare at Erik's grey ones. It had been far too long since he last saw them.

"Some are already leaving," Erik's voice was a quiet whisper now as he uttered the words, a secret for only Charles to hear. "The tremors- I'm using them to warn them. The ones who feel them and listen are leaving, there are ships parting from Pompeii and Herculaneum right now. Not all of them will perish."

"But many will," Charles whispered back, feeling and seeing Erik nod shortly, grey eyes clouded.

The next tremor was more violent under Charles' knees, Erik's hands moving to keep him stable. He couldn't help but smile at Erik, albeit sadly, for the insistent tremors. 

"Let's get out of here," Erik's hand moved, finger brushing against Charles' chin for a quick second. "I'd rather not see you burning from the heat."

-

From far away, Charles' eyes watched as the cloud of smoke took over the sky, the minds of all humans fading one by one as the heat wave killed them first, and he could almost hear from where he stood as the Fates cut the threads, the deafening sound of them finally snapping. The ships in the distance were filled with people who mourned the deaths and clamored for safety. Charles sighed, a touch of his mind to theirs filling them with a safe feeling — they'd live, he knew that, and he made sure they felt that too. 

By his side, Erik stared at him with a blank expression, even if his mind was a maelstrom of thoughts and emotions. Charles had always been the only one who saw through Erik's stoic face, and maybe that was why he had fallen in love with Erik from the moment he met the other god. Maybe that was why he still loved Erik even after they both had left many, many times, bitter from their fights.

He turned his eyes to look at Erik as well then, unable to smile, Erik's grey's eyes saddening with it.

"For how long will you resent me for this?" Erik asked, his voice unsure. 

Charles huffed out amusedly, shaking his head before moving, placing a kiss to Erik's cheek before turning his back to him, walking away.

"I don't resent you," Charles said.

"Liar," Erik quickly responded to that, loud, so Charles would hear. Charles smiled to himself.

"You saved some of them when I couldn't," Charles didn't look back or stopped walking, feeling the gloom in Erik's mind. "That's enough."

"Don't disappear from me again for long, Charles… I barely got you back."

"I won't," Charles said, finally looking back so Erik would see his eyes, so he'd know he wasn't lying. "But, please... Don't follow me. I'll come back to you, my love. I promise you that- but not today, not yet."

As Charles walked away, he felt the earth shaking under his feet again, the Vesuvius exploding once more, eyes moving to that mountain as it reflected his lover's wild mind.

[lag1995-fics]

Maybe Superheroes by The script for Peter Maximoff if you'd feel like writing something for it? 😄💕 thinking about X-Men everytime I hear it haha it's so amazing

I hope you like it, it’s a little angsty. Thank you so much for requesting and following.

Superheroes

Song: Superheroes by The Script

Pairing: Peter Maximoff x female!Reader

Warning: violence, and an f-bomb or two. It also has some dadneto

Words: 1336

Summary: When you are kidnapped, Peter tears the world apart to find you.

Song Fic Masterlist

//////:::::://////

When you started dating Peter it had been like breathing air. Kissing and loving was as natural as breathing air or drinking water. He was the best thing that had ever happened to you.

Things were amazing and you didn’t think anything could bring you down. Peter made you laugh so much he was so goofy and good natured. He brightened your world like a kerosene lantern in a thunderstorm. The only thing you guys ever argued about was whether or not he should tell Erik that he was Peter's biological father.

You were adamant about this, you had lost your own father when you were still a teenager. You didn’t want Peter to have any regrets; especially with how reckless Erik was.

Things didn’t stay amazing though, now that Strijer knew where the school was he had teams of people watching for someone who might be leaving alone. You hadn’t thought at the time that going to pick Peter up a birthday present would lead to you being kidnapped by some shady government officials.

****

You woke up to a hazy migraine and blinding fluorescent lights. You went to get up but you realized with panic that you were securely tied to the metal cot.

“Time to wake up mutey!” A man’s harsh voice barked at her.

“W-where am I?” You stuttered, finally getting a look at the severe man.

“I’m colonel Striker, and you’re somewhere they will never find you mutant!” He spat as if mutant was a dirty word.

“Now tell me your mutation and what can you tell me about Charles Xavier” He demanded and you had to bite back a shiver of fear.

“I would never give up my family” you declared determined to keep quiet. Peter and the x-men would find you.

****

Peter was beginning to get concerned it had been a good three hours since he had last seen y/n. He began zipping all over the school looking for her. He then ran into the next town and they were nowhere to be found. The panic began to set in as he ran as fast as he could back to the professor breaking the sound barrier.

“Professor! Do you know where y/n is!” Peter all but shouted to the startled professor.

“No I believe she was going into town but I haven’t seen her since,” the professor replied evenly trying to calm the panic in Peter’s voice.

“Can you look with cerebro, I looked over every inch of the town?” Peter asked, his voice still fraught with anxiety.

“Of course Peter,” Charles conceded and two of them made their way down to the basement of the school.

Charles looked for y/n for over an hour, each minute stabbing Peter in the gut with fear. The ring box in his jacket pocket felt like a lump of lead against his heart. When Charles pulled out of cerebro with a deep frown on his face, peters stomach fell out to his feet.

“Peter, I couldn’t find her. It was like there was a void. It’s similar in feeling to Erik’s bloody helmet,” Charles said watching the silver haired man’s face crumble. Tears streamed steadily down his cheeks.

“We have to find her!” Was all that Peter could choke out his tongue feeling like rubber.

“We will Peter. I'm going to search for her face in other people's minds, please tell Hank to get the X-Men ready to go,” Charles told Peter, trying to convey his reassurance.

Peter ran to Hank telling him what was going on as quickly as possible. He needed to recruit one more person. Magneto had contacts that could help him get Y/n safely home.

***

Peter arrived in Genosha uninvited and out of breath. Erik had immediately walked out guarded but not hostile. Peter looked into his fathers eyes, his own brown ones frantic.

Erik couldn’t help but notice that the silver haired man had eyes that were very much like his mother’s.

“I need your help!” Peter all but demanded, afraid for his lover’s safety.

“I would normally love to help another mutant brother or sister, but I am quite tied up with getting this community off the ground” Erik waved at the shipping containers he was using to construct small homes.

“No I need your help they took her, someone took her and I need her. Please!” Peter begged, his voice broken.

“Peter you are emotional, I’m sure there are plenty of x-men that can help you” Erik walked closer to the boy laying a hand on his rather clad shoulder.

“You don’t understand, I need your help, they won’t be enough!” Peter snapped looking up at his father achingly.

“I’m sorry Peter, they will find her” Erik repeated and Peter felt a chill of anger go down his spine.

“Maximoff!” Peter snapped and Erik’s eyes went wide before narrowing in suspicion.

“Excuse, me, Erik said gruffly, pulling away from Peter.

“Where did you learn that name?!” Erik’s voice held a hint of anger. He had always tried to push the wife who had left him out of his mind.

“It’s my name, I was born Pietro Django Maximoff on February 10, 1955” Peter was desperate. He would do anything to find his lover, even if that meant fighting his demons he had kept since the day Erik had tried to off Nixon.

Erik felt his face drain of color, his mind whirling. This boy who broke him out of the pentagon at seventeen. This boy whom he had almost let die at Apocalypse hands. He had almost lost another child and he would have never known it. It was obvious that Peter had no intention of ever telling Erik of their relationship.

“Your mother, what was her name?” Erik asked just to confirm and Peter snorted unhappily.

“You tell me,” he lamented.

“Magda,” Erik uttered and while Peter didn’t confirm he also didn’t deny. Now that Erik was looking he could see that Peter had taken after his mother’s side of the family. He looked strikingly like Erik’s late uncle. He knew immediately without a doubt he would do anything for this boy. He would walk through the fires of hell for Peter.

****

You woke up to a sharp kick in the stomach causing you to write in the corner you were huddled in. They had taken to beating you until you would talk. You wouldn’t though, Peter was there and he was your whole world.

“You ready to talk yet Mutie” The guard taunted and you spat at him, blood and spittle staining his fatigues.

“Go fuck yourself,” you gasped out as he kicked you again.

“We have a Code M, all units respond,” the guards radio garbled. A flash of fear crossed the guards features before he ran out of the room not even bothering to cuff you back to the bed.

You could hear screaming and banging getting closer and you could only hope that the cavalry had arrived for you. You needed to see Peter, you never wanted to leave his side again.

Your half swollen eyes widened when the door to your cell burst open and a silver blur darted to you. A magenta clad man stood outside the doorway as well killing anyone who tried to enter.

“Y/n,” Peter breathed touching your face like you were made from glass.

“I knew you’d come for me” You cried collapsing into his arms sobbing.

“I’ve got you baby and I’m never letting you out of my sight again” Peter sounded determined and more mature than she had ever heard him be.

“I love you” you gasped, pressing a bloody kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“I know,” he grinned and you slapped his shoulder lightly. He would find a way to drop a silly movie reference even at a time like this.

“Let’s get you home” Peter murmured and before you knew it you were strapped into a seat on the jet, ready to go home.

Requests are open if you have something you’d like to request. Thank you all for reading ❤️❤️❤️

[jadoue1999]

The X-Men and the member they lost - Chapter 3

Summary: What do you get when you mix Hayward and the Xmen? A pissed off Erik that's seriously trying to not murder the man!

Previous parts: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, 

Chapter 3: The Maximoff Anomaly

They had settled in fast. The older man that had intercepted them was called Hayward. He seemed very distraught at their arrival and made them go into an unused building. The director hadn’t listened to their protesting, he preferred having them out of the way. For what ever reason, Erik wasn’t sure. They soon realized that time worked differently in this universe. While they had already seen the episode and moved on, it had just ended as they arrived. Charles had told him with amusement that Hank would go crazy over the possibilities. Thankfully, the bunker contained televisions that monitored the town and the broadcast. Hayward had deemed necessary to make sure only people close to him knew of their arrival. They were all sitting around a table when he demanded their story. Charles spoke up. “We’re not from your Earth,” he started.

The director had looked at Kurt with a raised eyebrow, “I had that much figured.”

The professor continued, “two weeks back, one of our members went missing and the broadcast was all we could find. Our universe seems to be ahead of you with the episodes, but we are behind in years.”

“How so?” Questioned the woman sitting next to Erik.

“To us, it’s the eighties.” Charles waited a few moments, letting the people around some time to understand. “We come from a world where people are born with mutations, Kurt here can teleport.” The teenager looked at the professor, silently asking for permission to show his powers. Charles nodded and the blue mutant teleported from one side of the room to another. Hayward seemed shocked as the rest of the people gasped. Charles continued, “this is Raven, she can shapeshift.” Erik smirked as Mystique changed into a perfect copy of the director, making him jump out of his chair in surprise. She turned back into her human form and watched with amusement as Hayward slowly sat back down, eyeing her with caution. Probably seeing how unsettled the agents were, Charles decided to end this quickly. “I can personally read mind and Erik can control metal.”

Erik rolled his eyes as the military people looked at them with wide eyes. He wasn’t going to demonstrate his powers; he had done enough of that with Shaw. The team seemed to get the message that there would be no more demonstrations and moved on.

“So,” said the lady next to the director, “why are you here? Other than the broadcast.”

“Oh well, like I’ve mentioned before, we had a member of our team go missing.” The professor wheeled himself close to a screen and rewound the episode to when Peter appeared. “You see this young man? This is Peter, we had no clue where he went. We watched the broadcast in hopes for answers and we finally found him. Though in a tighter spot than we’d expected, but he does have a knack for trouble.”

Erik smirked at the joke; the speedster had always found himself in the strangest place at the wrong time. He was basically a magnet for trouble.

The director broke the silence. “So, this is not Pietro Maximoff?”

Erik shook his head, deciding to speak up at last, “no, he is not your Pietro, this is Peter Maximoff; my son.”

Hayward seemed surprised that someone other than Charles had spoken. “Is he like you all, enhanced?”

“Yes, he is a mutant,” answered Raven, clearly uncomfortable about the man’s tone. “He has superspeed.”

The director closed his eyes and sighed before turning to his colleague. “Bring the files concerning the Maximoff anomaly, they need to know.” The woman nodded and left the compound. He turned to the other members that hadn’t done much but gape at them and ordered them out. Apparently, he didn’t want people to witness what was about to happen. That left the man alone with the X-men. “Look, I get what you people can do, you barge in and act on an impulse; fix what you think is a threat and leave the rest of us to deal with the mess you leave behind. You might think you’re right, but this is my base.” Erik tensed up at the man’s words, this speech being all too familiar. “I don’t want you meddling in my stuff, Wanda Maximoff is a threat that needs to be dealt with no matter the price. You can go get your friend after.”

It was now official; he hated this man.

Though, before he could show him just how much he despised him, his colleague came back. She didn’t react to the lack of personnel, perhaps she had been expecting it. She was holding a significant number of files and what seemed to be a tv remote. Hayward thanked her and opened a file labeled ‘confidential’. It showed a picture of Wanda. Only she seemed younger, and her hair were a dark brown; there was also a man with bleached blonde hair at her side. They were in a crowd of people, their faces twisted in rage as they seemed to yell to something the picture didn’t show.

“This is Wanda Maximoff, back when she joined a Nazi base and accepted to be experimented on. This is how she got her powers.”

“Director, with all due respect, I believe your thoughts betray you,” interrupted Charles, to the man’s frustration. “I think it’s important to complete your statement and precise that she didn’t know what she was getting herself into.”

Erik secretly praised his friend and his telepathy; Hayward was obviously trying to antagonize the woman. It was obvious they now had to take his version of events with a grain of salt.

“Yes...” grunted the director, obviously upset about being caught in a lie. He pointed to the other man in the picture, “this is Pietro Maximoff, Wanda’s twin, the real one. He too had superspeed.”

He switched on a screen that was flatter than any television Erik had ever seen. It showed Wanda and Pietro in what appeared to be a lab. There was a sort of casket all plugged in with tubes. The pair seemed to be arguing with two older men. There was no audio, so their discussion didn’t make much sense. Suddenly, a blue blur raced through the lab, removing all the tubes in mere seconds. The blonde man stopped next to the casket looking thing and threw the last tube on the floor. It was strange, seeing another version of his son. Their powers were very similar yet very different. While Peter’s trail was silver, Pietro’s was blue, he also left some blue energy lingering in the air. It lasted a few seconds as he stopped before it disappeared. From the few dates in the documents and video, this Quicksilver seemed to have developed his powers only for a few months. It was probably why he seemed to be a little slower than his son. Hayward spoke again.

“The twins were working against the Avengers, those in charge of defending our planet. There was an army of robots threatening to destroy the world, they had sided with the robot in charge.” He glanced quickly at Charles. “They eventually changed sides, but Pietro didn’t survive.”

The footage changed to show a man and a child trying to take cover as a trail of bullets grew nearer. Suddenly, they were out of harm’s way and the speedster was in their place. His shirt was riddled with holes that quickly soaked with blood and he fell to the ground, dead. Fear seized Erik as he watched the man fall to the ground; momentarily seeing Peter in his place. Would a similar thing have happened had Mystique not disguised herself as one of the horsemen?

Hayward continued, showing footage of Wanda fighting in a group against other people, explaining how this event had led to the Sokovia accords, which was nothing more than a differently named mutant registration act. Except this one was actually approved. She had refused to sign and went into hiding, only to resurface when a titan had attacked the Earth. He apparently needed something called infinity stones, one of which was in Vision’s head. From the next chain of event Hayward told them, the titan had apparently succeeded in retrieving the stone. The real mystery was how the Vision was back to life; the director insisted that it was Wanda who resurrected him. She had been blipped, like half of the universe, and had came back grief stricken and ready to do anything to have a perfect family life. She had taken an entire town hostage and made them into her puppets. There was no telling what she might do to achieve her goal. Apparently kidnapping an alternate universe version of her brother wasn’t out of her reach. As Hayward continued telling them about Wanda’s life and what she had done, Erik had only one pressing thought: just how powerful was Wanda?

“How many people are in this town?” Wondered Charles.

“A little more than three thousand. They’re not all casted as roles, most are simply background characters.”

The wheelchair bound man nodded in comprehension. “Have you identified them all? Warned their families?”

He shook his head. “I believe it’s in everyone’s interest if we keep this low, we don’t want to alarm anyone. Especially when the world just came back.”

“You idiot,” raged Raven, “if they can’t reach their loved ones, they will ask questions. They will panic. Your logic is awfully flawed.”

“This is not your dimension, you don’t get to tell me what to do,” argued Hayward, clearly annoyed with them. “I will try to urge the identification process, but you people stay here. I don’t want more superpowered people and their associates getting in my way.”

With that, the man just left the place, followed by his colleague. Whether it was intentional or not, they left their documentation behind. Erik took one of the many files from the pile and opened it. This one described Vision’s origin and whereabouts until he had been destroyed in-

“Charles,” he said, not taking his eyes off the numbers. “This here says that the android died in 2018, five years ago.”

“We traveled 40 years in the future?” Said Kurt, understandably a little overwhelmed by the situation.

Raven put a comforting hand on the teleporter’s shoulder before looking at her friend. Her eyes showed how the situation affected her just as much as it did them. He didn’t blame her; Erik wasn’t sure if he truly grasped the gravity of the implications yet. For now, he preferred to focus on Wanda and her past; the more he knew about her, the better of a chance they’d have to retrieve his son safely and unharmed. The later wasn’t looking too hopeful. From his own experience with mind control and the co-worker’s reaction to being awoken, Peter would likely have a long and painful recovery once he would be back to himself. He just hoped that the differences between their timelines meant that he hadn’t been controlled since he had gone missing. Perhaps, by some luck, he would have arrived a little before he appeared on screen. He didn’t let himself think of what the speedster could have endured before being put under the woman’s spell. Especially if he had been her puppet for the entire two weeks he had disappeared.

“Erik,” interrupted Charles, “I can hear your concerns and I can assure you; your son is a fighter. His mutation is a natural telepath repellent, he’ll be just fine.”

The man smiled at his friend’s words, momentarily comforted. But then, a terrible thought creeped into his head. “Then tell me, old friend, if he is so immune; what horrible torture would he have to go under, so that his mental shield would be lowered enough for him to be vulnerable?”

The silence that followed his statement seemed to confirm that no one had even considered how Peter could be controlled in the first place. They had been too panicked at seeing the young man on the screen and then focused on getting to him to even think of the logic of his newly casted role.

“B-but he’ll be alright,” stammered Kurt, his tail anxiously twitching behind him, swinging, and curling unto itself. “He’s Peter, he always comes out alright.”

Charles smiles weakly at his student, “of course he will, Kurt,” he reassured him, “but we will have to give him time to heal and let him do the first steps when he’ll be ready.”

Erik shared a worried look with Raven, the professor seemed hopeful that the speedster would turn out fine, but he didn’t seem to realize how ahead he was thinking. They were on a military base that had studied for nine days this seemingly all powerful being that didn’t let you in without her consent and a rewrite of your life. And they hadn’t gotten far. From what they had learned, Peter would not be free of Wanda’s control unless she herself brought down the dome. But how could a grief-stricken mutant with powers never seen before just give up what she perceived as the perfect life she deserved?

...

They had stayed up late, learning about Wanda’s past and being horrified at what she had to go through. Erik wasn’t sure how he felt about the woman. She had gone through awful events, a struggle similar to his own. He did feel pity towards her, but he couldn’t look past the fact that she had his son playing her twisted game. The group had eventually settled down for the night, sleeping as good as they could without beds or blankets. They were suddenly awoken by some agitation on the base. Charles stared off into the distance before turning to his team, “Hayward has kicked off people from the base that were being disrespectful to him, now he’s coming our way.”

Indeed, barely fifteen seconds after he had spoken, the director opened the door. He seemed annoyed. “I’m just here to tell you that a new episode should air in the next twenty minutes.”

The blue teen looked at the man, “what happened outside just now?”

His question apparently wasn’t a welcome one since Hayward clenched his jaw in frustration. He answered nonetheless, “I got rid of nuisances. Nothing that concerns you or your team.”

That shut the boy up, but Raven stepped in front of him protectively. “You don’t get to talk to him like that, or to any of us.”

The director narrowed his eyes at her. “You should be thankful,” he snarked, “I could have you all arrested and locked up for the rest of your days, along with your little friend. Yet I haven’t even told anyone about your presence. I’ve been more than benevolent. So, I suggest you watch your mouth.”

Rage built up in Erik, he had heard these words so many times from government figures that disguised their hatred by saying what they could have done but didn’t. The metal bender was well aware that men like him wouldn’t hesitate to sell them out for a raise. What he didn’t appreciate was the way he threatened to imprison Peter as soon as they would get him free from Wanda’s control. Erik felt the metal in the man’s outfit and forced him closer, bringing him at his level. A sliver of fear was seen for a split second in Hayward’s eyes and a feeling of satisfaction crept into his chest. That man was a coward. “You listen to me,” he growled, “we can take out this base in seconds if we feel like it. I’ve seen your kind before, you crush others to rise in rank, but deep down you’re scared. You’re terrified because you’re aware that you are nothing. And if you drop your facade even for a second, they will see you for what you truly are. So, you take out the competition before it even has a chance to realize its potential. But guess what? You’ve met your match because I see you for what you truly are.” He paused as he stared into the man’s eyes. It was a competition of stares that lasted for a few seconds. Erik’s unwavering gaze pierced through the man’s pitiful attempt at intimidation without much effort. Finally, he let his grip go and kept his ground as Hayward took a few steps back. “Here’s a deal, little man, stay out of our way and we’ll stay out of yours.”

The director glared at him and then switched to the other people in the room, probably wondering if the threats he had said had a chance of becoming reality. Whatever he concluded, Erik didn’t know, but the man left the room fuming. The room was silent for a few seconds before Charles wheeled himself closer. He was about to speak but the metal bender beat him to it. “Don’t try to reason with me, old friend, that man had it coming. I only spoke the truth.”

The bald man shook his head. “Yes, you are right, and I don’t blame you for this, but perhaps threatening the director of the base we’re staying in wasn’t the greatest idea?”

Before he could argue, Raven intervened, “I think you did good. It’s been a while since I had seen one of your Magneto speeches; that Stryker knock off deserved it.”

He snorted at her comparison; Hayward was very similar to their own impersonation of the anti-mutant feeling back home. Kurt seemed a little unsettled by Erik’s speech. But he didn’t have time to make sure the teen was alright. Suddenly, the television in their little bunker flickered on; a new episode was starting. They all scrambled to sit down as the screen showed one of the twins running around with a camera in his hands. The upbeat intro song was echoing through the room.

‘Wanda!

WandaVision!

Don’t try to fight the chaos

Don’t question what you’ve done

The game can try to play us

Don’t let it stop the fun’

He opened the bathroom door, showing Wanda brushing her teeth; she also had rollers in her hair. She closed the door with her magic and Tommy ran downstairs to Vision who was reading the newspaper.

‘Some days, it’s all confusion

Easy come and easy go’

Erik watched the screen anxiously as the family members were shown, what would she make her son do?

‘But if it’s all illusion

Sit back, enjoy the show!’

The twin went in the kitchen, their neighbor was looking in the fridge. After a distasteful close up of the woman’s behind, Tommy was now headed for outside.

‘Let’s keep it going

Through each distorted day

Let’s keep it going

Though there may be no way of knowing

Who’s coming by to play’

A blur came out from the house and Erik’s stomach twisted as his son appeared on screen. He was wearing a grey and black shirt and jeans shorts. He briefly stopped in front of the camera and pulled his tongue out like some sort of rock star. He ran out of the shot and came back holding the long-haired twin under one arm. The screen froze to simulate a family picture being taken. The logo ‘WandaVision’ in red and yellow hues.

“Pietro Maximoff as himself?” remarked Raven unimpressed. “Really?”

Erik didn’t react to her voice; he was all too focused on his son. While he didn’t seem that different than usual, he couldn’t help but notice his hair. His usual silver mess of hair were now a bleached blonde. He stared at the screen in disbelief.

This woman had taken away one of Peter’s most unique traits, a part of his personality, to fit her narrative.

He continued looking at the screen with a mix of rage and anxiety. If she had changed him so easily to fulfill her illusion; there was no telling what else she could do if she found out he wasn’t truly her brother.

***

Notes: Next chapter: the halloween special! (and something else)

[victoria-daydreams]

Of Vices and Virtues

Chapter Twelve: What Are These Feelings?

AN: Up until now, this story has been rather lighthearted hasn’t it? Well, this chapter is not. I hope the chapter isn’t too confusing to read, the italics denote memories/the past.

Word Count: 4.4k

Trigger Warning: period era racism, racial abuse, racial slurs, sexual assault, torture, physical and mental abuse

Taglist: @azayamari​

Chapter Thirteen: The Ballad of Claudia Walker

After the silent establishment between Erik and I on not discussing our night time conversation or the bathtub incident, things went back to normal between us. Well normal for us. I continued to find new ways to sass Erik and he still pretended I annoyed him. It was childish but fun. Pretty soon, the days turned into routine, days turning into a week, and then some. In fact, the dates would have blurred if it weren't for the constant announcements from the radio and the television. The routine was set and constant, running in the morning followed by physical training. After that, we went on with our individual training.

Today was no different, Charles had spent the day working on different tactics and ways of controlling the younger mutant abilities during their individual trainings with him. While I found myself entranced with the weight room. I had been dying to do something other than venture around. Something to waste time. I immediately went to the punching bag. I tied up my hair, wrapped my knuckles and feet, then got into my stance.

I closed my brown eyes, letting my surroundings fade, letting only the serene feeling of it just being me and the punching bag. I first just worked slowly on popping out each hand, as it carefully, but swiftly, hit the air. I did this for a minute, until I felt my hands were ready, and I began to move on to the bag. My left hand shot out, striking the bag with a fist, I was about to hit with my right as my fist threw forward, and connected with thin air. Dumbfounded, I opened my eyes in shock, and saw the bag levitating over my head. I whirled around, and found Erik with his brows raised at me.

"Give me back the bag," was my only demand.

"I think I might just leave it here," he snickered softly.

I pinched the brim of my nose, "Erik, I hope there's a reason for you coming in here other than being an annoyance,"

"As a matter of fact I do," Erik replied, the bag dropping to the ground behind me, as he started to move closer to me. "I was hoping to find you here actually," he stated, with his hands in his pockets.

"Why?"

"I have a question," Erik began. "Could you look into my head and know what moves I'm about to use on you?"

"Maybe, I could predict your movement by reading your emotional pulses," I guessed, shrugging my shoulders.

"How easy would it be to not do it?" Erik asked curiously.

I looked at him confused, "What do you mean?"

"I mean, do you see other people's emotions naturally? Or would you be able to stop yourself seeing how I'm about to attack you?" Erik elaborated.

I thought about his question for a while. I have never put that much thought into reading emotional pulses during a fight, I was mainly focused on everyday emotions and feelings.

"I could stop it. Block you off, so to speak," I finally replied, and he nodded.

"Good, do that,"

"Is this round two from our last little spar?" I asked, a grin on my face and Erik rolled his eyes, but he mirrored my grin.

The two of us stood for a moment, I was unsure of what exactly to do next, until Erik suddenly launched his fist towards me. I barely managed to block him, but didn't catch the kick to my shins, causing me to stumble. Erik continued to push me back, I could tell he was noting each failed block and each successful attack that I landed. Breathing heavily, I stepped back slightly and used my legs to my advantage, lashing out with a powerful front kick, spinning on the ball of my foot with a roundhouse kick, and continued the spin for a back kick.

That's when I felt Erik's foot on my rear and he pushed me off balance. Falling forward, I rolled and came up with fire in my eyes – and saw his smirk.

"Oh Claudia, for all your talk you're still simply a pretty face, not a force to be reckoned with," he taunted.

He was playing with me, trying to get a rise out of me.

"Damn this man to Hell," I thought.

Narrowing my eyes at him, I hopped up to my feet and raised my hands into a fighting stance, pure determination on my face to wipe the smirk off his face. I just needed to knock him on his ass one good time. Erik's fist blurred in front of my eyes and I nimbly slipped past the punch. The advantage was mine now, with a bob in my stance I unleashed a series of punches. Erik grinned at me, seeming proud that he caused me to show visible signs of frustration on my face. I think Erik was much too happy about it and dropped his guard because my fist flew right into his right eye. He slumped down on the ground with his hand to his eye momentarily stunned by the force of the punch I'd thrown.

"Oh my God! Erik I'm so sorry!" I hurried down to his side taking his head into my hands. "Let me see it!" I demanded, worry evident in my voice.

"I'm fine I swear!" Erik insisted taking his hand from his right eye.

"I'll be the judge of that thank you very much," I commented, placing my hand softly to his temple stroking his eye softly. "Does this hurt?" I asked, feeling guilty, but also an inkling of gratification at the same time.

"No, but that doesn't you should stop," Erik answered cheekily with his eyes closed contently.

"Ugh, I can't believe you!" I exclaimed smiling, letting his head drop with a soft thud.

I stood up and slipped my sneakers back on walking out the gym. I shook my head at Erik's antics and I could hear him coming from behind me. An arm wrapped itself around my shoulder and I peered up at him with an eyebrow arched.

"You always hit harder when I insult you," Erik commented, a grin on his face. "I guess I know what I need to do now," he added, and I rolled my eyes.

I folded my arms together as we made our way down the hallway, "Why, so I can end up like you?" I asked, a smirk forming on my lips. "Always running head first into everything and almost getting yourself killed," I pointed out, looking up at him again. "Although, I will say you had one interesting technique earlier..." I trailed off.

"And what was that?"

I stood on my tiptoes and leaned into Erik, "When you kicked me...I felt that you wanted a different...body part there instead," I whispered, drawing back from him.

Erik froze and laughter bubbled from my throat at his face. His eyes were wide, a stunned expression played on his face as I watched his cheeks slightly flushed with red. I clasped my hands together in front of me, smiling wildly as I moved away from the stock-still body of Erik.

"Thanks for the training Erik!"

~~~x~~~

It was late in the afternoon, and it was finally my turn to fine tune my abilities.

"I know you hate the idea of doing this, but it's for your benefit Claudia," Charles began, holding my hand in his own and I furrowed my brow as to where this was going. "I need you to lower your barriers for me," he continued, making my eyes widened and nostrils flare.

"What!" I yelped, my breathing began to quicken, becoming shallow. "No!" I exclaimed, shaking my head as I attempted to tug my hand away from Charles', but he kept a firm, yet gentle grip on it.

"Hey, hey, hey, don't be afraid. I've got you," he assured, rubbing his thumb over my knuckles. "It will be one quick test and then we'll be done, okay?" Charles asked, a soft smile on his as he gave my hand a small squeeze.

He looked at me waiting for my response, but I turned my head away from his gaze. Still breathing rapidly I clenched my eyes shut, remembering the last time I trusted someone with my barriers lowered. But this was Charles. Charles was kind. Sweet. The opposite of him. He'd never have any ill-intentions with me. I took a deep, shaky breath as I calmed myself down. Suddenly, I felt two soft hands cup my face and slowly opened my eyes to meet Charles' eyes. I could see the twinkle in his eye that would cause many women to simper.

"Claudia," he breathed, looking at me. "I would never hurt you," Charles promised, using his thumbs to stroke my cheeks.

I opened my mouth to speak, but paused and looked down. I took another few deep breaths before looking up at him.

"One test?" I repeated softly.

Charles nodded, "You have my word," he stated.

I wrapped my arms around myself, slowly nodding my head, "Okay...I'll do it," I agreed, mustering up a weak smile.

Charles smiled as well, "You're going to be fine," he reassured, before planting his lips on top of my head.

Removing his hands from my face, he backed away from me just as the sound of footsteps came to a stop at the entrance of the library.

"Everything alright in here?" Erik asked, raising an eyebrow and looking between Charles and I before resting one arm on the frame of the door.

Charles flashed him a smile, "We're fine, I was just reassuring Claudia about her training," he explained, rolling up his sleeves

"So, we're all set then?" Erik questioned, pushing off the frame and closing the door behind him.

I arched an eyebrow, "You knew about this too?" I asked, my eyes slightly widening.

Erik nodded, "Charles knew you would be uncomfortable with this, so he asked me to be here as well to lessen your anxiety," Erik explained, walking over to where Charles and I were.

"Now Claudia, I want you to focus very carefully. Use your emotions to try and block me out," Charles instructed. "I want to see how quickly you can raise your mental shield on command,"

My expression was tinged with worry, "And what if it goes wrong?" I asked, looking between the two men.

"It won't," Charles comforted me.

I took a deep breath, my brows knitting together, "Fine," I sighed, closing my eyes I began to slowly lower my mental shield letting my mind be filled with the raw sensations and feelings coming from everyone in the mansion. Reopening my eyes I faced Charles. "Ready?" I asked nervously, starting to play with my hands.

He nodded, "On my count okay?" Charles asked, and I exhaled loudly while nodding my head as well. "Three...Two...One..." he counted, before he lifted two fingers to his temple as I raised my mental shield.

My eyes fluttered closed as I summoned all of the anger and fear that was coursing through me to block Charles from my mind. A sharp pain ripped through my head and a gasp escaped from my lips as I opened my eyes. The room started to spin and slow down, and the next thing I know, it's gone black. When I wake up, I am lying on soft grass. Grass? I sit up, rubbing my head. Looking around I see Charles and Erik do the same. What happened? Where are we?

"Claudia!"

I turned around and saw a caucasian teenage boy with brown hair gelled to the side and horn-rimmed glasses walking towards me. He looked about seventeen. I gasped as I realized who it is.

"James?" I asked the boy, bewildered.

But he doesn't stop, he runs right through me, as if I wasn't even there. Standing up, I looked around. Everything's slightly misty and fuzzy, and it takes me a while to realize where we are. We're in the meadow I used to play in as a child. I watch as my childhood friend, James, ran towards a teenage girl with medium length, black hair.

"Who is that?" Erik asked, arching a brow.

"It's me," I whispered, as a lone tear slipped down my face as I recalled happier times.

James was the first person outside of my family I ever told about my mutation. We became very close friends. I always felt my mother and father thought I was a freak even though they said that I wasn't. Still, I isolated myself, spending hours in this very meadow, lying in the daisies next to the river. I watched as James and my younger self laugh about something hysterically, and a small laugh escaped my mouth.

"This is most peculiar..." Charles muttered.

Erik and Charles moved closer to me, unsure of what is going on. I smiled at my younger self's happiness. What I'd give to be like that again.

James rolled over to his side, and wrapped one arm around my younger self's waist and leaned down, kissing her. His kisses were always soft and comforting. James rolled over to lay on his back and said something that caused them both to laugh. Suddenly, five teenage boys appear in the meadow.

I recognize them immediately, and my mouth fell open in horror as I realized what I'm about to witness. Again.

"No..." I whispered, almost breathlessly. "No!" I screamed, much louder, and Charles grabbed my hand.

The leader of the teenage boys, stalking towards them and they both stand up as James pushed my younger self behind him. Within a blink of an eye, the leader of the group landed a vicious punch on James' face and he fell to the ground, his nose bleeding. The three teenage boys yanked her from her spot as the other pair of teenage boys grabbed the struggling James and pinned him against the tree on the river bank. While my younger self was having a heated debate with the teenage boys.

Although I couldn't hear it. I knew exactly what they're saying. The four boys had heard that James and I were dating, and they had to teach this "negro lover" a lesson. They wanted to get rid of him and I knew, I was next. I don't have time to close my eyes as the knife is thrust into James' stomach. I heard a blood-curdling scream coming from the seventeen-year-old me. I could feel Charles recoil in horror and out of the corner of my eye I saw Erik had the same reaction. I watched, all over again, as James' body slumped lifelessly to the ground and the boys turn on me. Knowing what happens next.

A hand grabbed her shoulder and roughly threw her onto her back so that she was staring upwards into the faces of the three boys that were her age. One of them crouched over her, the one with those dead blue eyes, only now they were laughing in a way that made her scalp prickle with dread. The ringleader grabbed her by the arm and tugged her roughly off the ground.

"You know what, maybe our buddy James was onto something. She's pretty easy on the eyes for a negro," he rasped, an evil smirk forming on his lips as he tightened his grip around her arms.

And then before she knew it, he had grabbed her face in one of his meaty hands, and forced her mouth to his.

"Get off! Get off, get off, get off!" her thoughts screamed.

She tried to pull back with a mixture of shock and utter revulsion, but his friends were all around her, hands seizing her coat and hair, eager voices egging him on, laughing and leering as she struggled to break free. No one had been this close, without her permission. No one. And no one had the right to ever be this close, to ever touch her as he was doing now. His hand was on her waist and traveling even lower, and all she wanted was for him to stop it, stop it right now. She wriggled, clawed frantically, bucking and juddering against iron-clad hands like a rabbit caught in a snare, but he only mashed his face further into hers.

And suddenly there was so much rage contained inside her head, so much pure anger and hatred seething within her skull, that she felt that she might burst. Heat raced through her blood, a fire that she never felt before, that she hadn't allowed herself to feel in the pretense of being normal. But now this monster had crossed a line, was touching her in ways that left her feeling exposed and violated, like her skin had been torn away from her very soul to be gawked at. Murdering the boy she loved because he had the audacity to not care about her skin color and wanted to date her.

So perhaps this once she was at liberties to cross her very own line.

All she could see was red, as she pulled back furiously, lashing out in any way possible much to the amusement of my audience. Her skin grew warm, then hot, then boiling, thrumming with energy, the hairs along her arms rippling from the magnitude of it, far stronger than she could have possibly comprehended. Seventeen-year-old Claudia, in an enraged frenzy, outstretched her palm and a jolt of crackling purple energy roared from it, the distant ring of screaming in her ears, a warm tingle that played over her skin as the remaining energy fizzled and dissolved, melting back into the nothingness from which it had erupted.

Then...silence.

When the filter of red was lifted from her eyes and she dazedly took in her surroundings. One of the boys was at the base of a the tree, he wasn't moving and his neck looked deformed, the other boy was knocked into the river unconscious. Their ringleader's face was puffy and blistered, having borne the brunt of the attack, pus oozing from the more severe of the burns. She turned her head to see a deputy sprinting towards her, yelling for me to run. It was James' older brother John. By this point, John had reached her and she had a horrified expression on her face, matching the other teenage boy's as John tried pulling her away.

"Not only is she a negro, she's a freak!" One of the two remaining boys hurled the insult toward her.

She snapped back and yelled something at them and instantly one boy turned toward the river. Then, with no explanation, lowered his head into water and he drowned himself. The boy that murdered James took the knife that he was holding and slid it across his throat, silting his throat from ear to ear and a crimson liquid spilled from his throat, before he dropped to the ground.

She grabbed John by the chin and began to speak to him in a hurried tone, as if he had fallen into a daze, he gave a sluggish nod, and then slowly walked back towards his car to call in the crime scene.

My stomach churned and my heart pounded fiercely against my chest just as the image shifted and I let out a shaky breath, gasping for air. The memory had always haunted me, but I never thought I would have to witness James' murder again. As our surroundings change into a busy street. I had tears in my eyes, and I furiously wiped them away as new ones came trickling down my cheek. I turned and saw that Charles and Erik were staring at me. Charles' eyes were glazed as if he wanted to cry and Erik just looking at me with something like pity.

"What's happening?" I yelled at Charles.

"I must have pushed into your mind, your empathy mutation is allowing us to see your memories," he speculated.

Slowly, I spun around taking in our new surroundings, it was growing close to springtime and the streets of Washington D.C. were chalk full of busy people, rushing to get to somewhere they needed to be. Men and women hurried from work to get home, the elderly fed pigeons, and kids ran off out of their schools. It seemed like everyone had somewhere to go.

I let out jagged breaths as I shook my head now remembering why this day was a significant memory for me. A large hand laid down on my shoulder and I whipped around to see Erik standing next to me, looking mildly concerned.

"I'm fine," I stated automatically, pushing my hair out of my face with a shaky hand.

Erik looked unconvinced, but unsure of what exactly to do. He opened his mouth to say something else, but was interrupted when I gave out another gasp. I stepped closer to the wide window in front of us and peered in.

There was a young woman sitting at a table, absentmindedly running her finger along the rough wood of the tabletop next to her novel. She had lived there for almost two years and frankly was growing rather restless. It had been about a month, or maybe two since her boyfriend broke up with her because she was a mutant. She looked out the window that she was seated next to, watching as people walked by enjoying the company of others.

That was until she felt like she was being watched, her head snapped from the window and landed on a tall, tawny brown skin man. His dark brown eyes watching her curiously behind his round frames. His crisp white shirt stood out against the dim lit bar along with his smart grey slacks. Slowly, the man approached her and slid into the empty seat across from her, now she could fully see how handsome this stranger was. It was clear that the man was fit, you could the outline of his muscles underneath his shirt.

"Hello. Are you Claudia Walker?" she nodded slowly, and the man watched as her eyes became guarded.

The open book lay forgotten next to her.

"Who wants to know?" Claudia asked back, and the man smiled despite her rude and blunt attitude.

"My name is Professor Harry Lewis, I teach at Howard, and Miss Walker I believed you are a very gifted young woman," he complimented, flashing her with another smile.

She wanted to tell him that what she has wasn't a gift. It was a curse. But she didn't.

"Um, thank you Professor, but I-uh I promise that I'm not that gifted. My academics are great, but it's not better some of the students at the university," she pointed out.

"You think I'm talking about your academic performance Miss Walker? Oh, no, no, I'm talking what really makes you special, my dear,"

"I don't know what you're talking about," she stated, feigning a perplexed expression which was also expressed in her tone of voice.

Professor Lewis reached across the table and gently grasped her hand, his cold hands caressed her heated skin.

"I really do know what you are, Claudia Walker. I am here to help you, not hurt you,"

She jumped, it was Professor Lewis' voice, but in her mind? Maybe it wasn't, maybe she was going crazy.

"I can assure you, your sanity isn't to be questioned,"

There it was, again.

"Whatever you want. I want no part in it. I just want to live a normal life!" She whispered harshly, and went to stand up.

Professor Lewis gently tugged her back down with his hand, "Listen, let me explain first," he said, and Claudia slowly sat back down as he let go her hand. Professor Lewis slid from his seat across from Claudia and sat next to her. "Thank you," he sighed, turning his body to face her. "I didn't mean to intrude, but I heard your thoughts a few days ago about not having enough money to finish college, and I thought I could be of assistance,"

"How?"

"I'm running a lab for people like us, all you have to do is participate in some tests and then poof, your financial aid problems are gone," he explained, a charming smile appearing on his full lips, where a tiny gap between his front teeth could be seen. "And who knows, maybe I can teach you how to control your abilities better," he added, with a shrug. "I am a professor, after all," he joked, maintaining his smile.

And now he had her intrigued – what if there was a way? What if she could manage some semblance of control over this? What if some day she could look into someone's eyes without the fear of experiencing pain and rage and despair and love and roiling, frothing emotion trying to burn her alive?

"Sign me up," she answered quickly.

Professor Lewis clapped his hands together, a smile on his face, "Wonderful!" he cheered happily. "Now tell me about your powers Claudia," he stated.

"Well with my empathy, I guess I entrance people if I focus hard enough," she answered unsurely. "And there are times when my emotions affects everybody I'm in the room with," she explained.

"Wow," Professor Lewis commented, almost like he was very eager to please her. "So, you can control people?" he questioned curiously.

She bit her lip, "I've always hated that word when it comes to describing my ability," she said, letting out a nervous chuckle and turning away.

Professor Lewis grabbed gently by her chin with one of his cold hands. A shudder went through her and heat flushed in her cheeks.

"Embrace it Claudia, because you have the power to influence the world around you," he encouraged, before releasing her chin. After another deep look into her eyes he took her hand and raised it to his lips. "My dear, you and I are going to accomplish great things together," he whispered and his lips softly touched her knuckles, which caused her cheeks heat up even more. He rose elegantly to his feet and with a last look at her he turned around and started to walk away, leaving her confused.

My ankles wobbled to the side as I stumbled back a few steps from the diner window. I would have fell to the ground had it not been for two pair of arms steadying me onto my feet.

"Claudia, who is he?" Erik asked softly, and I looked up at him with effort.

"A horrible mistake,"

Chapter Fourteen: A Never-Ending Nightmare

[oncerpotter2018]

DAY 8 - DEATH WAS NEVER THE OPTION // Don't Say Goodbye

(shortest fic so far)

They go fought together until the very end and just as they won the war against those who wanted to destroy the world, Charles smiled, laughed and almost leaped with joy as he raised his weapon, punching the air.

"Erik, we did it. We won. We really won" he said shouting in the atmosphere, his hair a mess but he didn't care. He didn't care about the blood on his clothes nor cared about the bodies they left at their wake his attention only drifted to Charles. He looked to see where Erik had gone.

"Erik?" he asked, his voice becoming concerned. He looked and looked but he didn't see him. He tried running to see where Erik had gone to, he ran for a whole minute before his name was called from the distance.

"Erik!"

"Charles!" it was Erik and to the sound of his voice he ran towards his and jumped into his open arms.

"Oh Erik" he said, his mind able to rest now.

"Charles, its okay. I've got you. We did it. We won" he said kissing Charles on the cheek, his lips going down to his neck and straight to his lips. Charles kissed back and while they kissed they embraced each other until they stopped to face into each others eyes. They walked side by side knowing that tomorrow would be the beginning of their bright future.

That future though would not last for long when in a sudden situation changed the course of their lives, shattering all form of hope that they had so carefully planned. As thought it happened from a movie a lone gun man took that dream from them as he shot his gun, the bullet zooming pass the cold air. But it was the impact on its target thar hurt them most. The bullet entered Erik's right shoulder, and another entered just above where his heart should be.

"Erik!" Charles screamed. The man didn't shot anymore as it was his last effort, his last fight to take them down but one had done the job as the finally words he heard were the words of Charles calling Erik's name. Charles, despite his lack of physical strength, took hold of Erik's body weight, his voice cracking at the sudden thought that raced into his mind. "Erik?... Erik!" Charles screamed again as he and Erik were both on the floor, Charles trying to stop the blood flow with his hands as Erik tried his best to keep being alive. He wanted to see Charles one last time before he died becuase he knew that death was the only way.

"Stop... It's no use...let me...go" he said weakly his hand pulling at Charles' own. But Charles refused to even listen.

"No!" he shouted as he took Erik's head to his lap. "No! No, you're not going to die, did you hear me?" asked Charles, tears coming from his eyes as he watched Erik shut and open his own wanting to listen, to stay awake but he just couldn't.

Erik didn't want Charles to suffer, he didn't want Charles to seek ravenge on behalf of him for love. He knew Charles was a kind soul. A good man but he knew he wouldn't swoop down to that level. The only was to accept death, to learn to let go. Erik squeezed Charles' hand.

"Let...go" he whsiwpred.

"No! Death was never the option" Charles cried harder this time and just as Charles leaned his head forward, their foreheads touching, Erik's heart stopped. On his face was etched a forever smile with his eyes closed. A peaceful sleep. Charles tried to kiss him, to shake him by his shoulders but nothing happened.

"No! NO!" screamed Charles as he took Erik by his arms and bowed his head. Erik was a good husband, a good leader and never in a million years would he think he would suffer like this. He never thought ever in his life he had to suffer a cruel fate such as this and out of all the outcomes he had life had to choice this path. Charles cursed the universe for his misfortune for he hand lost someone that day. Someone who cared little about what others think. He only cared about Charles and that's all that mattered. An endless love that never went away even when he never asked for it. Charles will remember this day, the day Erik died, not just as a leader but as a husband too.

[xmenwickedgame]

The Boiling Point

(drabble)

Trigger warning: mentions of abuse below

If one were looking for Charles Xavier they would find him in his room, combing over the things in his dresser. Tempers were high at the Xavier school tonight and patience especially thin. Charles himself gave in more than once before he’d finally excused himself.

A headache was building behind his eyes and he stopped what he was doing to massage his temples. Every night seemed to dusk the bubbling tension between himself and his family up a few more notches. It was all rather unnecessary, laughable even if he’d been anyone other than himself. Alas, Charles Xavier he was and with him came a staggering mountain of baggage. One open-faced encounter sent most running for the bloody hills—or at least a safe distance away. His family however had come right back and with them brought a series of solutions that essentially hog-tied him for the better part of a decade. He couldn’t be fixed, they decided and so stepped around the broken pieces, ensuring they wouldn’t cut anyone else.

Only one man saw him in a different light and it was that man Charles thought of now, particularly a conversation with him not too long ago. He’d come to Erik that day with a bruised arm and a broken heart, seeking comfort after having forcefully been injected with the very treatment he’d been trying to ween himself off (he didn’t need to suppress his powers Professor X wasn’t the monster everyone believes him to be...)

That day Erik suggested they walk away, start a life together apart from this place and the people in it. He hadn’t been able to make a decision at the time but with every day passed and each new conflict Charles found himself leaning further and further towards a breaking point.

A soft knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts: Charles stilled but he didn’t look up. There was only one person he wanted to see in the doorway and that man harbored such affection for him even Charles’ stunted powers felt him coming. Only radio silence reverberated from the door now. Silence and the ever-present tension.

“Dad?” Came the careful voice of Charles’ adult son. Charles swallowed a sigh; his eyes opened but otherwise didn’t move.

“What do you what?” He murmured.

“I want to talk to you,” James answered. “You got a sec?”

He sounded tired, Charles notes. Tired and worried. Charles heard the door close, followed by encroaching footsteps. Surprise surprise, James expected a free schedule. Invisible fingers squeezed Charles’ heart; finally he turned around.

“Actually I’m b-busy right now,” Charles said and he cringed internally over how easily the stammer came out. It wasn’t so quick to escape around Erik.

“Oh yeah?” James questioned but that was all he said. For fleeting futile second Charles thought he might get away with continued solitude...until he felt the delicate brush of his son’s mind against his own. Charles stiffened.

“S-stop that,” he said, finally turning around. James Xavier stood in the doorway, arms folded across his chest, brow pinched over observing yellow eyes. He held up his hands when Charles snapped at him, withdrawing from his mind.

“Sorry,” Charles said, sighed really. Guilt prickled his heart: there was a time he’d have reacted very similarly to that sort of response to his powers. However, Charles could no longer use his powers easily and being probed by a functioning telepath felt...somewhat unfair. Unfair and invasive, he thought, watching the younger man carefully.

The urge to look away crept up on him--look away as he often did when uncomfortable—but he managed to ignore it. He kept his thoughts sparse however as James possessed a decent telepathic range: even without probing he might be able to detect Charles’ state of mind. That would do no one any good.

If James Xavier was at all tuned into his father he didn’t say. He shrugged, a more casual gesture but his eyes never left Charles’ face.

“It’s all good,” James told him. He stepped away from the door, fully entering the room. Charles couldn’t help himself: he stiffened again. No sooner did he than the younger man hesitated. Of course.

“Dad?” James asked. “Are we good or not?”

Charles hesitated. He saw the wariness slip back into his son’s face, watched his body language shift into an even less threatening position. Damn it all, they still saw him as the fragile sapling, the cracked and mushy eggshell, the trembling leaf on rocky winds and every other exaggerated metaphor in the book. It broke his heart a little bit. It also made him mad.

Had they not noticed any change for the better? Did a head held higher, a smile more frequent and almost entirely uninterrupted sentences mean nothing at all? No, Charles thought and this time he didn’t care about any and all possible eavesdropping. His family didn’t want him to change. To them he was damaged, helpless and unstable and above all incapable of thinking for himself.

Evidently James noticed the prolonged silence because he called out again, this time gentler and definitely a touch worried. Again Charles fought the temptation to duck his head and again he succeeded. Instead he chewed his lip before his features worked their way into a frown.

“What d-do you want, James?”

James closed the door. He ran a hand through his sandy brown hair.

“I’m worried about you,” he said. “And I know, I know I’m always worried about you but this is different I swear.”

Charles stopped chewing his lip, the soft and sore flesh still between his teeth. His stomach churned as he waited for an explaination.

“I know you’re thinking about leaving—and before you say anything, I didn’t have to read your mind. You uh, you project sometimes when you concentrate.”

Just like that, Charles’ anger took a back seat. He paled and his trembling heart sank into his stomach. Don’t, he told himself but it was hard, it was hard not to jump the first erratic thought-train pulling out of the station. He projected? How far? Shite, did everyone in this house already know he wanted to—

“Whoa whoa, hey—“ James winced, pinching one side of his head. “That’s, yeah that’s what I’m talkin’ about. It’s only loud enough for me to hear.”

Charles sincerely hoped James meant that because of his mutation, not because he monitored Charles like a hawk. James was a traveler by nature; before Erik’s return the boy spent half his time exploring the stars. Perhaps the one and only thing Charles missed about those days. That and his own naïveté.

“Alright,” said Charles finally. “So you know I-I want to leave...are you going to stop me?”

His fingers flexed and unfurled at his side, resisting the temptation to tug the hem of his shirt. Nervous habits did no good here. If he wanted even a small place to stand he needed to be stronger, or at least present himself that way. Think of Erik. Be like Erik. Erik wouldn’t be afraid of his own son...

James didn’t answer right away, not with words. A series of expressions washed over his face, everything from muddled to conflicted.

“Are you going to make me?” He asked quietly.

Charles’ stomach churned. It didn’t seem like he had a choice. That’s not all it sounds like...

“Don’t,” he said sharply. “D-don’t phrase it like that, don’t pin this on me, I won’t...”

Charles shook his head. Why, he thought. Why must it be this way?

“Dad?”

“What?” James’ yellow eyes widened and the lines in his face, however few there were, tightened. Damn it. Charles drew in a slow breath, then let it out again.

“I’m—” he tried again but cut himself off. Don’t apologize, Erik told him. He wasn’t to blame anymore.

“When you...s-say things like that it seems like you think this is all m-my fault,” Charles explained. His fingers twitched again, looking for an anchor against the building storm. He curled his hands into fists.

James said nothing. Charles took it as a sign to continue. (He hoped it was, otherwise his son was multitasking telepathically...)

“I-I’ve lived most of my life that way,” Charles said. “That...that’s a f-form of abuse, James...”

Erik might hold little love for the extended Xavier family but Charles was an Xavier too...didn’t he owe them a chance to understand? Understand, really? Isn’t it a little late for that?

The lines in his son’s face twisted and in place of wariness now he looked hurt. Genuinely hurt, as though he’d been dealt a critical blow to his character. Charles supposed he essentially had.

“Are you seriously accusing me of abuse? Me? I’m the one who pulled you out of there,” James said darkly and Charles realized it wasn’t hurt he was hearing but betrayal.

“Nobody here gets what you’ve been through better than me,” James went on. “I read your mind, remember? I’ve seen everything that’s happened to you.”

Yellow eyes met Charles’ blue ones. As if Charles somehow needed reminding of their first encounter. Fuck, why must everything be a fight? (Why indeed: wasn’t this what Erik tried to tell him before?) Despite his best efforts Charles wasn’t able to hold back his anxiety any longer: he uncurled one hand and brought it up, biting hard on his index finger. I hate myself. I hate this.

James evidently also needed a moment: he loed away, rubbing his neck. A muscle pulsed beside his jaw—once, twice—and vanished in a heavy sigh.

“I didn’t come here to upset you,” he said, turning back to Charles. Charles chewed on his knuckle. He believed that much, that James meant no harm by what he said. The boy was many things but a willing antagonist did not fit his character. What is it they say? The road to heartache is paved with good intentions? Something like that...

This time it seemed the younger telepath waited for Charles to speak: he stuffed his hands in his pockets, glancing now and then towards the door. Or was it away that he looked, waiting for Charles to collect himself? The elder and stunted telepath flushed. He took his hand out of his mouth.

“I...I understand your concerns,” he murmured. “I do, honestly...b-but they’re stuck in the past. Erik hasn’t hurt me once s-since his return and he isn’t g-going to in the future. You’re a telepath, surely you can see that.”

He was fidgeting again, but at least he’d finally said it. If James were going to make a point of bringing up his powers he ought to be reminded of their full scope. Indeed, James’ mouth twinged and twitched like he wanted to say something but knew there might be consequences. Instead he crossed his arms. “That’s not the point...”

“Then what is the p-point?” Charles asked. He tugged at the hem of his pullover. If only he could talk to James as easily as he did with Erik...but that was part of the problem, wasn’t it.

“James?” Charles ventured when the other man didn’t answer. He still looked like he wanted to but—

“We’re your family,” James blurted. He removed one hand from his pocket, thumping his chest. “Me, mom and Em—hell you have grandkids now, dad. Why...why isn’t that enough?”

“I...” Charles started but he trailed off. His heart throbbed and squirmed as guilt and loyalty and obligation tried to grab for it. Think of Erik, he told himself again. He’d do anything for Erik. He loved Erik. He wanted to be with Erik...no matter the cost.

“I’m not happy here,” Charles confessed. “Nobody trusts me, nobody listens to me a-and Hank is cruel to me, James, he’s been c-cruel for years—”

“You never told me that—”

“I tried!” Charles cried, gesturing to James with his free hand. “You—all of you, you don’t listen, you just...it s-seems like you think I’m the p-problem. I’m not,” he said, searching his son’s face. Once again, James was slow to answer. When he did, his words were shaky on his tongue.

“I never thought of you as a problem. I was relieved when I found out you weren’t the monster everyone made you out to be.”

Charles gave him a look—a pained, disappointed look. “You don’t b-believe I can be fixed. That’s the same thing.”

They parted ways shortly after that. James mentioned something about having to share their conversation with Raven to which Charles curtly wished him well. Once alone he limped over to the bed, collapsing with his hands clasped over his mouth.

That was it then: if his son—his only bloody telepathic child—couldn’t understand him, kept twisting his words and his heart into suffocating knots—what hope was there anyone else would listen? Fuck, he hoped Raven wouldn’t confront Hank. No no please don’t tell Hank what I said—

Charles whimpered: his belly jumped and his chest convulsed. He should be proud of himself, he knew that and he knew Erik would tell him the same. He’d finally stood up for himself, something he hadn’t done in...shite, he couldn’t remember. Sadly (sickeningly) it didn’t seem to matter right now: if James talked to Raven and Raven told Hank then word would spread and they’d all gang up on him and it hurt so fucking much how badly that frightened him. They were supposed to be different. He thought they were. You stupid old fool. You never learn.

Charles dropped his arms: he doubled over, catching his head in his hands.

“I want to leave,” he croaked. He’d never said it aloud before. “I want to leave, I want t-to leave this place...”

[gold-from-straw]

Divergence - ch10

I've been planning to add the second half of this chapter for a long time (only just managed it now, hence the late upload lol! it's still officially Friday where I am!) But a conversation with @interplanetarygirl really helped to get me into Francis' mindset for the realisation he has (similar to Charles' realisation about his own past a couple of chapters ago) so THANK YOU!! 

Read from the beginning on Ao3 if you like!

“Good!” said Erik. “Twenty more.”

Francis slumped, breathless, and Erik tugged him up sharply by the eyelets on his boxing gloves. “You need stamina,” Erik said. His voice was sharp and hard, but Francis could feel the steady hum of affection underneath that made Francis feel safe, the way he never had even with the honeyed words of Father’s friends and colleagues.

He was also devastatingly attractive for an older man. Francis set his teeth and threw punch after punch at the bag until it swayed and jerked.

“Well done,” Erik said, when he’d counted down from twenty. He beckoned and started unlacing Francis’ gloves. “Flex your hands. Fine. Looks good. Go and have a shower and tell me if they start hurting or anything - you want to get stronger, not damage yourself. Tomorrow we’ll do some more on reactions and sparring.”

The sense of satisfaction and pride from Erik that Francis was basking in suddenly flared into something almost overwhelming, bone-deep and infinite, when Erik looked past Francis to the doorway. There was nothing more than a faint smile to betray the love pouring off him.

“Charles,” said Erik. “Finally decided to take me up on my offer of training, have you?”

Charles smiled. “Only if you’re prepared to be beaten at your own game.”

Erik laughed and threw Francis’ gloves at Charles and walked towards him. Francis was all but forgotten as Erik started to lace Charles up.

Charles had much better shields than Erik, of course. But even so, as Erik brushed his thumbs over Charles’ wrist, Francis caught the blast of emotion from Charles, a flash of intense love, a connection that bound the two men together.

Francis turned away, half envious, half embarrassed. He wondered, for the first time, about the Erik Lehnsherr back in his own universe, whether it was possibly for someone to love him as much as this Erik and Charles loved each other.

He was lost in thought on the walk back, so almost didn’t notice Arthur. “Hi, Francis,” he said quietly.

Francis jumped and blinked at his younger self, sitting like a pixie on a stone window seat. “Hi,” he said cautiously. “Are you OK?”

Arthur nodded, his chin still pressed against his knees.

Francis licked his lips. He had no idea how to deal with children, but he could feel the vague, cautious tendrils leaking out from the little boy. “Did Charles block your telepathy off?” he asked.

Arthur nodded. “He’s been teaching me how to build my shields myself, but I’m not good enough to do it on my own yet.” He looked down, twisting his lips.

“Well, that’s OK,” Francis said quickly. He had a sudden vivid memory of sitting outside his father’s room for hours, kicking his heels and singing quietly, hoping for even the smallest scrap of attention. “Hey… I’ve got to have a shower, but do you want to do some drawing afterwards, or something?”

“Really?” said Arthur, hope sparkling through his emotions.

“Sure,” Francis smiled. “Come on, you can wait in my room until I’m ready.”

Arthur scrambled down from his perch and practically skipped along beside Francis. He smiled down at him, amused and suddenly quite aware that he was feeling the same warmth he got when Raven asked him a question, or followed him, or flopped onto the seat next to him and snuggled up.

Raven, he thought, the warmth fading. What would she be doing right now? What would she do without him there?

Not that Raven couldn’t take care of herself – she’d been doing so for years before he met her, but she shouldn’t have to! That was the point! Francis loved looking after her… if he was honest with himself, it gave him purpose, and now…

He glanced down at Arthur, who smiled up at him, open and hopeful and still trusting. That trust hadn’t quite been beaten out of him yet.

But it wouldn’t be this time, would it? He was surrounded by people who actually cared about him, and who wanted to look after him.

He closed the bathroom door behind him, leaving Arthur in his room, and poked at the fading bruises on his ribs. All these people… they wanted to look after Francis, too, he could tell even without reading their minds. But it didn’t feel right when he imagined himself coddled and cared for and protected – that was his job. He was the protector. He was the one who took the punches and worked out how to hide Raven’s mutation and what lies to tell to people who asked too many questions or pushed himself to get the data his father had wanted.

He wasn’t a kid any more, after all, not like Arthur.

But then… he wasn’t an adult either, not like Charles.

He showered quickly, trying not to think of Raven and the life he’d left behind. Did he want to go back there, getting punched every time he moved wrong, every time he said something annoying? Of course not! But… wasn’t it the right thing to do?

He didn’t have the answer by the time he came out of the steaming bathroom, drying his hair roughly on a towel. Arthur was sitting on the very edge of his bed, completely still and formal, and Francis stopped, his throat suddenly aching. He remembered doing the same in his mother’s room, hoping that maybe this time he’d be good enough and neat enough and perfect and well-behaved enough to gain her affection ��� even just her attention.

He pushed it away, folded it up in a box like those he’d glimpsed from time to time in Erik’s mind. Put it aside and didn’t let himself think too hard as he walked over to Arthur and ruffled his hair. “What do you want to draw first, then?”

Arthur’s face split into a brilliant smile. “I’ve been thinking about that! I want to draw everyone. I want to draw you and me and Charles first, and then Erik and Moira and Alex. And Sean and me together making tacos! And Raven and Hank and then maybe I’ll draw another picture of Alex shooting those lights out of his chest and you fighting with Erik.”

He sucked in a breath suddenly, as if he’d forgotten that was a thing a person has to do in between sentences, and Francis laughed. “Well, we’d better get busy then, hadn’t we? I’m afraid I don’t have any colours, but there’s plenty of paper in a drawer over here, and pens and pencils too. Why don’t you get started while I get dressed?”

Arthur nodded and slipped off the bed, finding his supplies and kneeling on the chair to get a good view of his paper as he bent over it and started to draw big circle heads. Francis took his pieces of paper over to the window seat and crossed his legs, propping the paper on a textbook he’d found gathering dust under the bed.

“Francis,” said Arthur, still looking at his drawing. “Do you remember being me?”

Francis put his doodle to one side and leaned back. “Yes, I suppose. Some parts of it more than others, of course, but yes.”

“So I’m really going to turn into you?”

Francis considered this for a moment. “Partly? But remember you’re in a different world now. You’ll grow up differently – our timelines have diverged, I suppose.”

Arthur bit his lip and hesitated, then put his pen down. He still didn’t look at Francis. “Can you tell me…”

Francis waited a moment, but Arthur seemed to be struggling for words. “What’s on your mind?” he asked. “Would you like me to look?”

He slumped slightly and nodded. “Yes please.”

Francis lifted his fingertips to his temple and slipped into Arthur’s thoughts much easier than any other mind he’d ever been into. It was still like flowing downstream, like two water droplets merging, though now he had to move a little more deliberately, take a certain path, since Charles had built walls around him to block out noise.

He saw himself in Arthur’s mind, his eye swollen shut like it had been the day they both arrived, and arranged around him in every direction was every fear Arthur had about it, ever possible way he thought Francis had misbehaved to earn the punch.

“You want to avoid being hurt,” Francis said, and swallowed hard.

Arthur nodded and bit his lip. “Please?”

He laughed dryly. “I’m not very good at it, as you can tell.” Arthur’s face dropped, and Francis frowned, hurrying to reassure him. “But I’m sure you’ll be fine here – none of them seem the type to hit a child.”

“Yes, but I’ll be grown up soon, and then if I do something wrong they might hit me too. What did you do to get hit?”

Francis thought back and tried to stop himself flinching from the memories. “This time… I can’t quite… oh yes! I’d worn a hole in one of my shoes, that was it.”

Arthur cocked his head. “Don’t you have much money anymore?”

“No, it’s not like that, it’s… well, Kurt Marko – he’s the man who married Mother after Father died – he’s…” A bastard. “He doesn’t like spending money on me. He says I waste it.” He snorted to himself. He knew very well what Marko thought good use of the money would be. He also knew how frustrated he was that Francis’ mother wasn’t hurrying up and dying of liver failure from all the drinking. Francis stared out of the window, his mood darkening.

“So… I shouldn’t ask for things, and then I’ll be safe?”

Francis frowned and turned back to Arthur, swinging his feet down off the seat and leaning forward. “No, that’s not…”

He had a thought in that moment, a mental image of Kurt grabbing Arthur and throwing him into the wall. Only it wasn’t just a thought, it was a memory. Francis had only been eight, still grieving his father, still hoping that this new man in his life would care for him in some way, and Kurt had picked him up by his arm and thrown him. He couldn't even remember why.

Francis saw that happening to Arthur.

“Listen,” he said, holding Arthur’s gaze very seriously. “Anyone who hits you is wrong and bad. They don’t do it for any good reason, there’s nothing you can do or change about yourself that will keep you safe because it’s not your fault, you hear? It’s them. It’s anyone who wants to hurt you.”

“But…”

“You’ve got to let Charles take care of you. And Erik, and Sean and… probably everyone in this house, I think. But you have to hold onto that, Arthur. Anyone who hurts you is doing something very bad.”

Arthur nodded his head, uncertainty clear in his mind and his body language. Francis sighed and walked over to him, holding out his arms for a hug. Arthur snuggled in, his head just up to Francis’ ribs.

He’d been that small once. He’d wondered what he’d done wrong, and it had never been him at all.

For the first time, Francis considered going back to his own universe angry.

Tagging everyone who interacted with the last chapter! (also the permanent tag list of @insertmeaningfulusername, @mathmusicreading and @kungpao-giffy!) @vivavelle, @gerec, @kernezelda, @xcziel, @thechaoticwave, @paramecie, @goneadrift, @hufflehappenings, @kyotoagnes, @these-maginot-lines, @lyricfulloflight, @librodice, @unspokenhatred, @fullmetalcarer, @fxngsfogxarty (I’m sorry I didn’t reply to your message!! Thank you so much!!), @bugy-boo, @tteabea, @mnemo-ink, @deathzpells, @azulso, @dorianpink, @rainbow-door, @ketchavies-thoorrrr666, @kaeden4, @mykarush, @auri-moon, @thepaintingsafake, @ikeracity, @youurelovely, @pahisluuseri, @iwillshipyouman, @pumpkinspicedshane, @i-have-drowned-in-books

[blackmissfrizzle]

A Tale of Two Soldiers Part 6

Title: A Tale of Two Soldiers Part 6

Characters: Erik x reader, Bucky x reader

Summary: Erik and Bucky come to save you.

Word Count: 5703

Warnings: Sexual assault and sex trafficking (Plesse don’t read if they’re triggers for you even though it does not go into depth.) Violence and a little torture

A/N: no keep reading link since I’m on mobile.

You awoke with a pounding headache, it was worst than the time you were matching drink for drink with Steve. Whatever room you were in the air was freezing and it didn’t help that Marcus or whoever he was working with left you in your lingerie set.

As you were coming to, you heard a murmur of voices. You got up to investigate where the voices were coming from. With each closer step you heard a bunch of:

‘She’s up’

‘She’s coming’

‘Is that Y/N’

‘Isn’t she an avenger’

When you found the voices, they belong to a group of women, scratch that not all of them were women. The youngest seemed to be about 11. All of them were in skimpy shorts and crop tops. Judging from their outfits, your new environment, and your abduction you just got caught in a fucking sex trafficking ring. Great, Bucky and Erik weren’t going to let you out your sight after this.

A young girl with big doe eyes tentatively walked to you.”Are you here to save us? You’re Y/N, the avenger, right?” Her eyes were filled with hope and you didn’t want to tell her the truth and break her heart but you also didn’t want to lie to her and give her false hope.

You didn’t know if it was luck or not but a girl who looked like life hardened her answered for you. “Does she look like she’s here to save us? She’s for sell just like us!”

To make yourself smaller you kneeled down to the other girl’s level. “She’s right. I’m here against my will. But, I got some powerful friends and they’ll find us sooner than later.”

Suddenly, you heard a loud slam of a door and the clicking of heels against the tile floor. A man in a full Armani suit was surrounded by his bodyguards appeared. He seem like the type of man to brag about his accomplishments and flaunt his wealth, especially with women. And if they didn’t do as he asked, he’ll call them anything but a child of God.

“I see that you met your new roommates,” the man stated smugly.

Already tired of the bullshit you punched ole dude in his smug face. In return you received a kick in the gut that caused you to fall to the ground.

Armani suit bent down and jerked your chin so you could look into his emotionless eyes. “They were already ordered not to hit you in the face. We don’t want to damage our money maker.”

“You’re really selling me and these girls? Oh, you don’t know what trouble you just got yourself into asshole.”

“Trouble? I don't think so. You’re gonna be worth more than all of them combined. Someone as beautiful and strong as you. You’re gonna make me a rich man.”

“Let’s say if you get the chance to sell me, you’re not gonna live long enough to spend it. My dad’s a senator, my uncles are War Machine and Ironman, my best friends are Captain America and Black Widow, and my boyfriends are the two most ruthless killers ever. I’m starting to feel bad for you bro.” You shrugged at the man and smirked.

“I knew you were a little slut.” He gripped your face harder to the point you thought he would break some of your teeth and then he gave you a bruising kiss. In return you head butted him, which he seemed to enjoy from his evil chuckle. “I wish I could keep you for myself. Do you know what’s the most satisfying thing about my job?”

“I don’t know. You get your tiny dick sucked? You must be overcompensating for something,” you sneered.

The big bad grabbed your hand and put it on his rather unimpressive hard on.”I assure you I’m not overcompensating for anything.” Great, not only were you kidnapped by an asshole but he was delusional as well.

“Anyway, my favorite thing about my job is dousing out fires. Now, your average sex trafficker wants to get easy girls. Girls who won’t put up fight. But me personally, I like it when my girls got fight in em, because I enjoy putting them out. I love when a break down a girl and make her submit. The more fight she had the better. And you, Ms. Y/L/N are one of the strongest women I ever had and to bend you to my will until I submit,” he took a deep inhale and palmed himself. “I would pay good money for that, but you’re the product and I can’t make money if I use my own product. But no worries, there are buyers out there with similar viewpoints as mines and they’ll pay a pretty penny for you. So, I’m not scared because I’ll have enough money in the world not to worry about your friends and family.”

As Armani suit gave his bad guy monologue, you found a random pipe on the floor behind you. Despite your better judgement you grabbed the pipe and whacked the smug smirk off your captors face. “I’m glad you like your girls with fight because I gotta whole lotta fight in me.”

When he faced you, you finally saw the anger in him instead of that giddiness he had earlier. “Make sure you don’t hit her in the face. Remember that’s our money maker, but everything else is fair game.” While he ordered his men to do their worst his eyes never left yours until he exited the room.

Soon as their boss left, the goons started pounding at you. Some used their fists, some used their feet, some used the butt of a gun, and some used a pipe. No matter what they were using, pain reverberated throughout your body. Although, you were in immense pain you refused to give these monsters the satisfaction of your screams in pain, so you suffered in silence. The only thing that could be heard were their grunts and vile words towards you. It wasn’t until you blacked out with thoughts of Bucky and Erik saving you were you able to escape the pain.

——

Charles automatically noticed something was wrong when you didn’t show for the family photo shoot. Even though you hated doing things like these you were always 30 minutes early, just in case someone needed help with something. So when his baby girl wasn’t there when he got there, he ordered his crazy daughter, Casey to track you down.

That was two days ago and there was still no word from you. HPD inform your parents that they couldn’t find Marcus, who you were last seen with and now he was officially a person of interest.

The whole family was gathered in the living room with the Wakandans, James Warren, Tony, Rhodey, and Detective Johnson from HPD.

“We have an update on your daughter’s case,” the detective informed the Y/L/N family as he handed a folder to your father.

His knees buckled once he saw what was inside. It was photos of you in your lingerie, posed for sell. The pictures got worse as he saw all the bruises on your body.

Your mother got a look as well and she instantly wailed. “Who would do this to my baby?”

Tired of being in the dark, Erik took the photos from your dad. When he saw them he was fuming and he knew just who to blame.

Throwing the photos at Bucky, Erik stormed towards Bucky and sucker punched him.”Its your fault! I was stupid enough to listen to you and let her go to that damn auction! Now look, Barnes she’s caught in a sex trafficking ring!”

Everyone except the Wakandans perked up at the mention of Barnes. “Bucky Barnes?” Tony and your mom questioned.

Bucky was outed now, so he took the nano mask off. “I’m just as pissed as you, Stevens and I blame myself more than you ever could.” Then Bucky turned his gaze towards Tony and your mom, “But all of you have a choice. You either can turn me in over duty or some personal vendetta or you let me be Winter Soldier and bring our girl home and kill those sons of bitches.”

Regrettably, Tony conceded to Bucky. He was far too worried about you to get back at Bucky and he knew how much those bastards needed to pay and the Winter Soldier was what they needed.

“Who took those photos,” Rhodey asked gravelly.

“We believe it’s Richard Dominguez. He just took over the Dominguez crime family and expanded into sex trafficking, which his recently deceased father was against.” Detective Johnson informed the room.

“What about this Marcus nigga?” Erik asked. He was ready to kill someone and if he couldn’t get to Dominguez then Marcus would have to do.

The detective felt uncomfortable under Erik’s murderous gaze. “Umm...we can’t find him.”

“Then what the fuck you niggas good for? Oh wait never mind y’all good for killing innocent black people.”

“Cousin!” T’Challa admonished his younger cousin.

Erik just shrugged his shoulders because he believed he told no lie. He looked at Shuri and nodded his head at her. “Lil cuz, can you find this Marcus dude if we give you his picture?”

Shuri looked at Erik as if he grew a second head. Did he know who he was talking to?”

“My bad, cuz,” Erik quickly apologized once he saw the look on Shuri’s face. “Can you find him quickly is what I meant to ask.”

“Give me the picture and I’ll tell you his last location within 30 minutes, cousin,” the Wakandan princess stated.

Detective Johnson handed a photo of Marcus to Shuri and she promptly went to work.

---

Everything hurt. You were sure that you had a couple of broken ribs. The girls took turns looking after you and in that time they told you who held the group captive. It was some dude named Richard Dominguez and he was fairly new to the game.

The door squealed open and the girls hid in their respective corners. You thought it was Dominguez coming to gloat about the offers he got for you, but it was a woman instead. She reminded you of a Kim Kardashian wannabe. Nothing on the woman was real. Her ass was disproportionate to her thighs, her lips looked as if they were stung by bees, and her tan was so dark that she was nearly the same color as you.

“So, you’re the one my husband can’t shut up about. He keeps on talking about your beauty, but from where I’m standing, darling, you ain’t that beautiful.” The woman sneered at you as she inspected you.

If her physical appearance didn’t put you off, her attitude did the job for you. Annoyed with the woman you sighed, “Don’t tell me your ok with this? And please don’t tell me you’re jealous.”

“Ok? Sweetie, I’m ecstatic with anything that allows me to afford my lifestyle. I would sell my own grandmother if it meant I could live like this. Honey, why would I ever be jealous of you?”

What a delusional one this chick was. You laughed at her and proceeded to read her. “Listen, sweetie, ummm, everything on your body is predominantly features of a black woman and under all that tanning lotion, you’re clearly not a black woman. You literally just came in here and called me ugly for having the same features you have that your plastic surgeon did a botch job on.”

You stood up face to face with Dominguez’s wife and even in your diminished shape she was frightened by you. “I bet your bitchass husband is fantsizing about me while he’s fucking you,” a look of embrassement from the woman confirmed your hunch and you contined. “I’m gonna go as far and say he called out my name on accident. Man, it must suck to be you.”

The wannabe was in tears by now and she ran out the room. Usually, you wouldn’t revel in the fact that a husband was mentally cheating on his wife, but since she was compliant, you didn’t feel an ounce of guilt.

Once again the door creaked open and this time it was Dominguez and he was pissed. He stormed towards you and punched you in the gut. “You made my wife upset, you little cunt! Be glad that you are of value to me or you be dead.”

You knew Dominguez didn’t care about his wife, but she must’ve gave him an earful and that set him off. Holding yourself back, you smirked at the man. “I don’t know what’s worse for you. Me getting to you and killing you or the Winter Soldier and Killmonger killing you. Either way you end up dead and you better pray that nothing happens to me, because those two I mentioned are nothing nice to play with.”

All the blood drained from Dominguez’s face when you mentioned the Winter Soldier. He didn’t know about Killmonger, but he didn’t sound fun and now suddenly he was fearing for his life.

His silence stuck with you and you knew you had him. You decided to taunt Dominiguez some more. “Remember when I said boyfriends? I was talking about them. So, even if I end up getting sold, you won’t be spending any of the money.”

Richard continued to keep his mouth shut as he tried to calmly exit the room. When he was outside the door, he ordered his head of security to hire more guards in case the Winter Soldier came looking for him. Now he had to get rid of you much quicker than he would like to, because he refused to be a victim of the infamous Winter Soldier.

---

Shuri came through and she was able to locate Marcus in 15 minutes instead of 30, and the team had him in their custody no less than 45 minutes.

Bucky was sharpening his knife trying to calm himself before interrogating Marcus when Tony approached him. “I know you hate me, Stark, but I love Y/N, so don’t be mad at her when we get her back. She was just doing what she believed what was right by protecting me.”

Tony held back his disdain for Bucky. He had to admit that he admired how fiercely Bucky wanted to fight for you. “Barnes, I’m not here to fight you. Y/N would whoop my ass if I did right now. I just wanted to say I appreciate how you’re fighting to get her back and that none of this is your fault.” Bucky drew his brows in confusion at Tony’s statement. Did Stark really compliment him?

“I know. I know. It doesn’t sound like me. But you can’t fight at your best if you keep thinking its your fault that Y/N is captured. You were ok with Y/N going to the auction, because you knew she was going to do it anyway. Don’t beat yourself up over that,” Tony advised the soldier.

“Thanks.”

“I still hate you by the way. I’ll just hate you less once we get her back.” Tony effectively killed the chance of any reconciliation between the two and left the room

As Tony and Bucky were having a moment, Rhodey was talking to Erik trying to calm him down. “You can’t just go in there and start beating on the dude.”

Erik looked at Rhodey in disbelief, “Oh, I can’t? Watch me.” Erik was walking to the door that Marcus was behind and Rhodey pulled him back before he turned the handle.

“You need to calm down and do it quickly! I’m not letting you blow the only lead we have on finding my niece. Do you understand me?” This was the first time Erik seen the older man lose his cool. He heard from you how your Uncle James was always the chill one despite how crazy our mom or Uncle Tony could be. So, he knew he needed to calm down for the sake of your uncle.

“A’ight. I’m sorry, man. I just need to find her asap.”

Rhodey understood the young man’s urgency. He clapped his shoulder and warned Erik. “We need Marcus alive. The cops need someone to arrest.”

Erik caught Rhodey’s drift. He wouldn’t he able to kill Marcus but whoever was the real culprit was fair game.

When Erik finally gathered himself together he went to the door where Bucky was at and entered the room. The two killers had to school their faces as they entered the room. It smelled of bodily fluids and the heat in the room made it no better.

Marcus was sitting in the middle of the room in his own mess. He was a nervous mess because he didn’t know who kidnapped him and then the crazies had a jaguar and wolf snapping in his face.

“They miss their mom and they know you have something to do with her being missing.” Marcus instantly recognized the man talking. He was the Winter Soldier and he was casually flipping a knife around.

Soon as he recognized Bucky Barnes, Marcus soiled himself once again. Erik scrunched up his face in disgust and pinched his nose. “Really, nigga? You already pissed now you gotta shit! I bet you didn’t have that same energy when you let Y/N go.”

“Look man, I didn’t have a choice,” Marcus yelled in desperation.

Pissed off, Bucky echoed Marcus. “No choice!” Bucky kicked Marcus’s chair, causing him to fall and have Apollo and Artemis growl in his face.

“Are you really gonna let em eat him?” Erik pointed to the predators.

“They haven’t ate all day and he’s obviously no help. Is that a problem?”

“Nah, it’s chow time.” Erik broke out into a smile while Apollo and Artemis widen their jaws for their new meal.

“She’s in Huntsville! Dominguez has a bunch of land out there, but he has a small army. He’ll know you’re coming.”

“We don’t care!” Bucky yelled already texting T’Challa with the information.

Erik bent down to Marcus. “Before I rock yo shit, why did you betray her?”

Marcus was a sobbing mess by now, he feared for his life. “I had a gambling debt at one of Dominguez’s underground casinos. He said it’ll clear my debt and I could get a little extra if I help him get her. Y/N’s an Avenger, I thought she would be out by now.”

As Bucky heard Marcus’s explanation, he crushed the door knob in frustration. What kind of man traded his friend for money? He took his knife out and aimed it at Marcus and cut off the top of his ear.

Annoyed that Bucky threw the knife so close to his face, Erik reprimanded him. “You had to throw it next to my face?” Bucky nonchalantly shrugged his shoulders and exited the room. Erik quickly followed Bucky after he punched Marcus to silence his wails.

Thanks to Bucky texting the intel while they were still with Marcus, Shuri had the location of Dominguez. Everyone suited up as soon as a plan was formed, even though Bucky and Erik just wanted to go in guns blazing.

“You know we don’t plan on bringing Dominguez alive.” Bucky warned your parents.

Your mother left her husband’s side and for the first time looked Bucky in the eye. “I don’t give a damn. If he’s begging for mercy, you better let him bleed out. Just bring back my baby girl.” Now Erik and Bucky understood where you got a fierceness from.

Both men gave a head nod and a yes ma’am to her and left to go save their girl.

—-

You were getting anxious. If it was just you held captive, you would’ve already escaped and killed Dominguez, but you weren’t. The other girls were your responsibility and you promised them all that you would get them out safely and alive.

“Miss. Y/N, are your friends going to save us?” Lexie, the 10 year old asked you with hope in her eyes.

“Of course, honey. They’ll be here soon. If we get lucky, we might get to see the Scarlet Witch.”

Santana being the pessimist she was told the child not to get her hopes up. You were on the verge to cuss Santana out, but you heard gunshots and the screams of Dominguez’s guards.

A smile broke out on your face, help had came. You ordered the girls to grab the shivs they made in the past days.

All of you gathered together and were approaching the door when you heard footsteps by the door. You pushed the girls behind you and got in your fighting stance.

You abandoned your stance and fell to the floor in relief when you saw Steve, Nat, Sam, and Wanda at the door.

“It’s okay. I got you,” Steve hugged you being mindful of your injuries. You hugged everyone else and asked Wanda where Vision was. She told you he joined Tony and should be here soon.

“This family reunion is great, but we got people shooting at us and we need to get these girls to safety,” Nat reminded everyone.

“Nat’s right. You guys get the girls out and I’ll handle Dominguez.” You offered to your former teammates.

Steve was heavily against the idea. He claimed that you would be outnumber and your injuries would be a clear disadvantage. But you weren’t hearing none of it. You needed to kill Dominguez and your friends couldn’t get caught since they were still fugitives.

In the middle of your argument with Steve, your sword Shuri made for your birthday was suddenly in your hand. Then you heard the roar of Artemis and the howl of Apollo.

You smiled at your friends. “Game time, bitches.” This time Steve didn’t argue with you when you ordered them to get the girls to safety. He knew Bucky was there to save you and nothing would get in his way.

Thanks to your sword being made out of vibranium you easily dodge bullets and sliced through Dominguez’s henchmen. Your goal was to kill your captor and everyone who helped him, and you weren’t leaving the base til you did.

Taking two stairs at a time, you ran into the master bedroom and found Dominguez’s wife frantically throwing clothes, shoes, and jewelry into a duffel bag.

“Materialistic to the end, huh?” Your chuckle halted her packing. Immediately she was begging for her life and in that moment you truly didn’t know if you would leave her alive. You asked yourself WWCAD (what would Captain America do?) and regrettably you only knocked her out with a vase.

As you were tying up Richard’s wife, he came running into the room seeking refuge. Once he spotted you, he pointed his gun at you. “Damn, I thought you would’ve killed her. She knows too much about the operation.”

Dang, this man really didn’t care about anyone except himself. “You know I would say I feel bad for her, but she’s as guilty as you are.”

“Then maybe you should give me the same punishment as her,” he tried to bargain with you.

“Too late,” you stated and then you charged the man.

Your fight ended up in the hallway and near the railing. Dominguez and you were dodging each other’s hits. You lunged to stab him, but he fell over the railing but he grabbed you to bring you with him. You were expecting to feel the coolness of the marble floor, but instead you felt the familiar warmth of strong arms.

“I got you, princess.” Tears threatened to spill out when you saw Bucky and Erik. You kissed Erik and murmur a bunch of I love you. Then you jumped out of his arms and limped towards Bucky to do the same.

Unfortunately, your reunion got cut short by the groans of Dominguez. Erik and Bucky instantly got in defense mode but you had to pull them back. As much as you understood their anger, this was your kill.

You slammed your foot into Dominguez’s chest to stop him from getting up. “Remember when I told you I didn’t know if it was worse for you if I got to you if they got to you,” you pointed towards the two soldiers. He gave no answer, but looked at you in pure hatred.

“Well, I forgot about a third option and I’m gonna go with them, cuz they’ll kill you slower than I ever could.” Confusion and then fear crossed Dominguez’s face as he saw the jaguar and wolf prowling towards him out of the shadows.

While Apollo and Artemis were snarling in his face, you bent down to his ear and whispered, “You know my favorite thing about you douchebag dudes is the fear on your face once you know you lost and how you’re gonna die soon. It’s the best feeling.” You patted his chest as you smugly mocked his first conversation he had with you.

Once you started walking away you heard the crunching and breaking of his bones and his cries of pain as Apollo and Artemis ripped into him.

The adrenaline must’ve stopped pumping through you, because you fell to the ground before either Bucky or Erik could get to you. Blood was seeping out of your stomach when the boys reached you. Each of them were yelling it wasn’t your time yet as you repeatedly told them you were sorry. Luckily, Erik managed to insert a Kimoyo bead into your wound to stop the bleeding. And once again you blacked out as you have done so many times this week.

—-

“You’re very lucky Mr. and Mrs. Y/L/N based on all your daughter’s injuries she should be dead,” you heard the doctor inform your parents.

“Thank God!” Your mother praised as she sat in the chair next to your bed.

“Ummm, but is it necessary for them being here?” You could only assume that the doctor was referring to Apollo and Artemis, since you could sense their presence.

“They stay,” Erik ordered leaving no room for negotiations.

A few moments later and you felt your eyes flutter open. No one noticed that you were awake until they heard you groan in pain.

Your first words were where was Bucky and Erik.

Erik left his corner in the room and ran up to you. “Hey, princess. I’m right here and Barnes not here right now. We have too many eyes on us right now.”

Usually you would be understanding, but you didn’t feel complete until you had both men by your side. So, you pleaded with Erik to get him and he was about to comply when Secretary Ross entered your hospital room.

Automatically, you were on the defense and tried to sit up despite the pain you were in. Last time you saw Ross, you cussed him out so you doubted he would be happy to see you again.

“Y/L/N, it’s good to see you’re doing well.”

“What do you want,” you croaked out.

Ross widen his stance in an attempt to intimidate you. “We have reports from the other girls you saved and they said that Steve Rogers and the others were there helping them. Do you know where they have could’ve gone? And please don’t lie, the girls did say you did talk to Rogers.”

Your monitor was beeping quickly indicating the spike in your blood pressure. At this point, Ross was more than a thorn in your side and he was getting dangerously close to be on your kill list.

It also must’ve been your mother’s breaking point, because she jumped out of her seat and was in Ross’s face. “Are you fucking kidding me!!!” Your mama had to be furious to be cussing. You only heard her cuss a handful of times in her lifetime. “My daughter is in the damn hospital barely escaping death and you’re worried about capturing damn Captain America??? My baby girl is right, that heart attack must’ve fucked with your head more than you thought. Now I suggest you get out of this room or that wolf and jaguar are gonna have a new chew toy.”

Ross made the smart decision of leaving the room with no protests. You knew your mom could be scary, but for her to successfully threaten the Secretary of State, she earned a new level of respect from you.

“Damn, Mrs. Y/L/N remind me not to piss you off.” Erik laughed in admiration.

While looking at you and giving you a motherly caress, your mama replied to Erik. “I don’t play about my kids, even the ones who give me the most headaches. So, it’s best you and Barnes remember that.”

You almost couldn’t contain your excitement. That warning your mama gave Erik was also a seal of approval for both of them to date you. Who would’ve thought your mama would be open to you dating an assassin.

For a while you talked with your family. Shannon tried to apologize for unknowingly helping you get kidnapped, but you threatened to burn all her wigs if she tried apologizing again. That quickly got her to shut up.

The nurse came by and told everyone that visiting hours were over. Everyone left except Erik and when she tried to get him to leave, he gave her a deadly stare until she scurried off.

Running your fingers through Erik’s dreads calmed you and him. It was very possible that you wouldn’t have survived and never had the chance to see each other again.

Tears were forming in Erik’s eyes and this was the second time you saw him cry. Between sniffles Erik spoke for the first time since you two been left alone. “I almost lost you, Y/N. That scared the shit out of me. I’m about to ask T’Challa to assign a Dora to follow you when me or Barnes are not around.”

Half of you was grateful that you had a man that cared that much about you, but the other half was annoyed that you were about to get a 24 hour detail after this whole debacle. “I’m safe, E. But don’t you think it may be a little extreme to have someone watching me all the time?”

“Hell no.” Welp, there’s goes any negotiation. You didn’t have the energy to fight Erik on the topic, so you let it go for now.

Erik jokes with you for a bit to lift your spirits, but he knew eventually you would ask for Bucky again. He told you what you already suspected which was that Bucky felt guilty about your abduction and was avoiding you. You told Erik to get Bucky and tell him if he refused to come you would never speak to him again.

Within 10 minutes, Bucky was sulking in your room. Erik excused himself, knowing that you two needed this intimate moment and appreciative that he spent time with you already.

“You two seem really close now,” you pointed out to Bucky after Erik clapped his shoulder.

Seemingly nervous, his metal hand scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah, when the girl you both love gets kidnapped it brings enemies closer.”

Bucky made no attempt to get near you and it broke your heart. In the time you needed him the most he refused to be there for you, but you understood it, he was still blaming himself.

“Doll, I really shouldn’t be here.”

“Why?”

“It’s not safe. I heard that Ross came by looking for intel. Someone can come by and turn me in.”

Although, it was a valid concern, you knew that wasn’t the real reason Bucky thought he shouldn’t be there. “I have my own hospital floor and Tony made sure everyone signed a NDA, so try again, Barnes.”

This time Bucky moved towards you and you could see the pain in his eyes. Hell, you practically felt the pain rolling off of him onto you.

Bucky was crying by the time he sat next to you. He laid his head on your stomach and you could feel his tears seeping through your hospital gown.

When he finally composed himself, Bucky spoke.”Fuck doll, if I hadn’t encouraged you to go to that damn auction you wouldn’t be in this damn hospital bed.”

You lifted his chin to get his attention. “I’m only gonna say this once. It’s not your fault. I was gonna go with or without your permission.”

Bucky opened his mouth to apologize, but you held up your hand to stop him. “James Buchanan Barnes if you are fixing those gifted lips of yours to apologize, I promise you I will cut off your dick and you know how much I love it, baby. You wouldn’t want to do that to me, would you, babe?”

Laughter filled the air and it was music to your ears. Bucky’s laugh was low like his voice but it held a certain lightness that Bucky must’ve retained before joining the army.

“Ok no more apologies. But you’re gonna have someone with you at all times just to make me feel better.”

“I basically told her the same thing and she didn’t argue with me,” Erik added while he was standing in the doorway eating some jello-o.

You rolled your eyes in annoyance at the two men. They really thought you were gonna comply with them. “I didn’t argue with you because I’m too mentally tired to do so. But watch, once I’m feeling better I’m cussing both of you out for trying to tell me what to do.”

Both muttered a ‘we’ll see’ and laughed at you. Throughout the entire night the boys kept you entertained and not once did they argue. It was a rare occurrence for Bucky and Erik get along and you hoped for more of it in the future.

Sleep eventually claimed you and you were glad that you had your two favorite men by your side as it always should be

Tags: @blackreaders-assemble @destinio1 @lildashofmelanin @nickidub718 @dumbchick @chaneajoyyy @wakanda-inspired @blackpinup22 @pastelastronomy24 @cyrioussoul @valkyriesnymph @bitchacho25 @yoyolovesbucky @toniilaney @euphoric05 @marvelmaree @dessianna1

[popculturebuffet]

Comics Corner: Child’s Play #1 “Night of the Living Doll”

S

Happy days before Halloween everybody. While I have an X-tra Spooky treat planned for the day itself, I thought i’d start branching out from X-Men Comics (though that will be my primary focus), with a comic i’ve been dying to read since I found out it existed: The Child’s Play mini series from innovation comic, one of only two series and 10 comics overall starring your faviorite murder doll and mine: Charles “Chucky” Lee Ray. Also contains a slasher off to see who would win between Chucky and some classsic killers because the comic put the idea in my brain. Wanna Play? Then join me after the cut. 

WARNING: This review contains scenes of Gore. While I did try to cut it down being a horror comic about a slasher villain, this was inevitable, Discretion is advised. 

Child’s Play is a horror franchise I absoltuley love. While i’ve procastinated on seeing the DTV sequels, not that I think their bad i’m just a forgetful mess sometimes, and Seed, because no amount of Jennifer Tilly or intresting gender identity issue stuff will compensate for me having to watch Chucky masturbate, I have followed the series for years, afraid to watch it because I wasn’t a huge horror fan at the time and Chucky scared the shit out of me as a kid. Eventually I realized that despite my fear I loved the franchise for it’s thoroughly interesting killer, entertaining kills, and at it’s best great stories and at it’s worst so bad it’s good royalty. Even the Don Manncini, creator of the series and writer of every film and director of three, disowned remake is pretty good if thoroughly it’s own thing.  So naturally a Mini-Series taking place between 2 and 3 that may fit neatly into continuity, this is my shit and i’m so happy to finally read it. 

For the lapsed and unintiated, the Chucky/Child’s Play series, the original anyway the remake is it’s own thing and has it’s own backstory, follows Charles Lee Ray, aka Chucky, a serial killer who in desperation to get away from the cop perusing him after his partner ratted him out, used his vodoo knowledge, because every serial killer knows voodoo apparently, to put himself in the nearest vessel, a doll. The rest of the backstory can be covered as we go as the first issue does a really good job of organically explaning it for the unaware. Granted I don’t know if most non child’s play watchers would be intrested in this comic but it’s a nice gesture. 

This mini comes to us from innovation entertainment, a 90′s publishing company that made tie in comics for a number of things, and from writer Andy Mangels who also wrote Innovation’s Nightmare on Elm Street comics, which Linkara has covered in detail if your curious and which i’ll probably cover myself at some point, especially since this issue made a strong impression on me.  Speaking of which, the mini as mentioned takes place between the second and third films, both of which have their own adaptations that i’ll cover eventually, but I felt the original story was more appealing. As far as I can tell there have only been really three bits of media outside the franchise, not counting the aborted video game: A , from all accounts, terrible endless runner game, this mini series, and another mini series from Hack/Slash creator and former Nightwing Maestro Tim Seely, as well as a crossover between Hack/Slash and Chucky from Seely. And having read said crossover and found it excellent and feeling just like the movies in regards to the little shit, I hope to find the mini one day and share it with you lovely people. But even if I had i’d probably be covering this one first since chronological order combined with the fact it seems that mini dosen’t fit into canon anymore and this one might. Now the exposition is out of the way let’s get to the good stuff. 

Since I didn’t really cover the covers in my first two X-Men reviews, and feel I really should going issue by issue it just hadn’t occured to me, let’s look at the cover. It’s decent, kinda a parody of old horror comics covers or old horror movie covers and a nice start to things.. although frankly I would’ve preffered the splash page instead. 

I love it. It’s a nice little gag, and while the blood splatter is partly nonsensical and looks like Chucky just killed a guy to splatter some extra blood about to make his collection look more badass.. though given who we’re dealing with it wouldn’t suprise me, so it dosen’t really detract. That being said being a burgeoning horror fan and having seen films from most of these franchises and knowing enough about those I don’t from other reviewers reviews, i’d be remiss if I didn’t speculate about if Chucky could win against these other titans of terror. PLACE YOUR BETS BITCHES, IT’S A SLASHER OFF. 

Chucky Versus Micheal Meyers: He’d stab him for the love guru. Easy joke aside the horror of haddonefield does have size and strength, even in his old man version from the recent movie and upcoming sequels, over Chucky and while I thought this would be easily him... Chucky has him in speed and agility. He could climb that fucker and stab him up and down, shadow of colossus style, until even Micheal would have to buckle over, or just as likely set an elaborate trap like 2k18 Laurie. Micheal has some intellegence and a Chuck’s own drive not to give up, but that won’t save him from an opponent who’s faster, smarter and just as piss angry stubborn. Chucky wins.  Chucky Versus the Creature from the Black Lagoon: Chucky. The creature is strong but chucky’s craftier and would poison a lake just to kill a bastard.  Chucky Versus Jason: Tough call. Like Micheal, Jason is slow.. but he’s also 20 times more durrable, stronger and way more likely to get Chucky off him. He’s also more likely to use the environment meaning even if I vastly prefer Chucky, it’s a more even fight and more likely to go in Jason’s favor, as any trap Chucky set would likely get walked off. Jason wins.  Chucky Vs The Phantom of the Opera: Not really a traditional slasher and I don’t really know the version that is or the version that isn’t to be frank, but it seems like Erik could take chucky in cleverness and ruthlessness and combined with having home field advantage, i’m calling advantage Erik. He wins.  Chucky Vs Dracula: Okay 1, make this a movie yesterday Mancini and 2, this is a tough one. On the one hand Drac has mist, a horde of brides, wolves and transformation. If it’s home court, Chucky’s gonna die, especially if the count simply uses his brides to seduce him as Chucky is kinda easy that way. But in the US? Chucky is an onry bastard and Dracula has a ton of weakness, so I could see Chucky loosing round one then coming back to kill the bastard at dawn and anyone dumb enough to defend his coffin. Plus Chucky isn’t alone having Tiffany and the ablity to split himself among good guy dolls, so I could see Chucky creating another army of himself to do a suicide run on Drac’s castle. It’d hurt but Chucky is a vengeful dick. Chucky wins. Seriously Mancni get on this.  Chucky Vs Freddy: Depends on the setting: In the Dream World, it’s likely Freddy as he can throw Chuck off guard by giving him his body back or using former survivors, while in the real world it’s Chucky’s turf but Freddy still has knife hands with more reach than his lumbering opponents, so even with prep I expect Chucky to eat that one, so I give it to Freddy. But honestly I prefer Don Mancini’s ACTUAL pitch for a crossover he’s trying to get happening: Chucky and Freddy meet up, and actually admire each other’s style but realize that two killers in town will dry up all the victims so they wage a dirty rotten scoundrel’s style looser leaves town contest: whoever chops up the most teens by dawn stays. I want that yesterday too.  Chucky Vs Xenomorph: If it’s a facehugger as shown, Chucky, it probably woudln’t be able to bond with him and he’d stab it. But a proper showdown.. xenomorph. It matches Chucky’s speed, ferocity and while not as intelligent is still far stronger and just as ruthless.  Chucky Vs Leatherface: Chucky. While Leatherface has the better weapon and matching speed, Chucky can outthink him. Chucky wins but while I haven’t seen Texas Chainsaw Massacre, against the whole clan Chucky probably woudln’t win.. but would probably throw in with them long enough to survive since he’s a murderous bastard too and as long as he dosen’t have to join in dinner, it’s essentially his MO with help and family. He’d probably grow to either love them or get annoyed enough to kill em all.  Chucky Vs  The Tall Man: Tall Man. The Phantasm Ball is just too powerful and Chucky too vunerable and stubborn for a teamup.  Chucky vs Pinhead: Pinhead. I may be too squeamish for hellraiser but he’s FAR above Chucky’s paygrade.  So overall it’s 4 to 6 with Chucky loosing, but he still put up a far better fight than you’d think. And for funsies before we move on to the actual meat of the comic at long fucking last.  Chucky Vs Ash: Ash. Ash is dumb sometimes sure, but he’s just as stubborn, has dealt with being accused of murder before so framing him won’t work, and unlike the Slashers he’s got a shot gun, which while chucky can dodge, I could see Ash pining him. Dumb dosen’t mean he isn’t clever. However I do want to see the hyjinks that would insue so please, Mancini, do this one if you either can’t get freddy or if you can after that. Please? Okay so with ALLLL of that out of the way, let’s dive in. 

We open on the above, what’s left of Chucky after Child’s Play 2, being reforged into a fresh body. It’s exactly as pleasant as you’d think. 

Maybe he just says that because the sight of him with lipstick gives grown men heart attacks. 

See? Unsuprisingly, that’s one of my faviorite Child’s Play moments. Or maybe he just needs a pair of fresh eyes to stop being so hetronormative. 

I do love this bit, it’s a nice bit of comedy that dosen’t feel too broad and fits right into the franchise, even before the outright horror comedies. And now for you ladies and gentleman and other’s pleasure...LIVE NUDE CHUCKY!

Granted Bride would later retcon in a penis, but given he’s in a third body by then. Or maybe it’s the fact his body gets more human the longer he’s in one, so maybe he grows one or fused a strapon to himself. I dunno. I’m not an expert in Chucky’s Penis. That’s Don Mancini’s job. So Chucky puts some pants on, because wether it’s because you love somebody or want to stab them silly, you put your pants on for them, and wonders if he should wear something more inconspicuous before realizing he’s a 3 foot animate doll.. he’s always going to be conspicuous, another inspired bit of comedy. This is something I like about the issue: Regognizing how ludicrious the two sequels at the time were, Mangels leans into the comedy a little, but without overriding the horror, as you’ll soon see, somehow correctly predicting the direction of the franchise. But chucky made a mistake.. the last page showed him triggering an alarm by accident and well. 

As you can see in a neat stylistic choice, the siren blares over the entire page as Chucky makes a run for it and a mysterious observer sees a slight against god running about, decides cool and follows. He accidently slams into chucky in another funny bit. He offers a ride and while Chucky balks at this weirdo, said weirdo points out that how’s he’s going to outrun the cops otherwise and Chucky reluctantly gets in. And it says something if the guy with a bigger body count than a heart attack still has reservations going with you. The teen says Chucky reminds him of a kid who was in the papers for claming a doll killed some people and his mother who backed up the story, was suspected to have did it and put her in an insane asylum, or as this little shit calls it “Electro-Shock Pallace” as someone who himself is mentally ill, and afraid of asylums and lives in a world two decades removed where mass killings happen often and are often pinned on mental illness, fuck this twerp and I can’t wait for his commupance. Chucky sets him straight. 

See this is why I didn’t jsut do a big infodump on everything right up front, the comic does a good cjob recapping child’s play 1, and 2 isn’t relevant to the plot aside from the intro. They explain things quick and fast and chucky himself gives a good chunk of the film’s backstory pretty quickly once he and shades here get back to his house. 

This is also interesting as even the films haven’t really gone into how Charles Lee Ray felt as he became a doll or if he was conscious when Karen first got him. There’s more of course, and while it’s not necessary to this story, Karen does show up in this series, so i’ll fill you in on where the story went from there, as well as what Chucky left out or wasn’t there for. Here we go... Karen Barclay was the struggling mother of young Andy, who wanted a Good Guy doll for his birthday. Karen, not having much, found one second hand... Chucky. Chucky started manipulating the young kid, offscreen though that just makes it more unsettling even if the mystery of if Chucky’s real or not is kinda pointless when we saw a guy explode himself into a doll. I also like the nod that Chucky knows about as much as the fans do as to why their was a mega explosion. He first kills Karen’s best friend and Andy’s babysitter for the night, which Andy blames Chucky. No one belivies him.. which is understandable.. what’s not is when Chucky kills next, having andy take him to his acomplice’s house and blowing it up, NO ONE seems to question why a little child blew up a known criminal, how he knew where the house was, or why, when the previous crime was done in the home with motive, he killed some random guy. I do love this film but this bit feels especially dumb on the cops part not even bending a LITTLE. But this isn’t a review of the first movie so let’s move on.  Andy is comitted, which as sad as it is to see an innocent child thrown in an institution does make at least some sense so they can find out if he’s really seeing things or not, and Karen returns.. and finds that the Good Guy dolls don’t come with batteries, yet Chucky has been talking like any other toy. As a result we get one of the best scenes in the franchise history if not it’s best, and really, as much as I try I can’t do it justice. Though if you can’t watch in short he does an exorcist when she checks the batteries, she threatens to burn him, and he reveals himself. In long... it’s worth a watch. 

Chucky runs for it, Karen tries to tell Mike who dosen’t belivie her.. until Chucky comes for him. Chucky then heads for Dr.Death, his vodoo 101 teacher, who refuses to help him viewing him an abomination but stupidly left a vodoo fetish of himself around and you can guess the rest. He reveals Chucky can only transfer to the first person he revealed himself too so he heads for Andy with .. this. 

Mancini had to know what he was doing right? Right? Anyway. Karen and Mike find a dying Death who tells them to aim for the heart and who his target is. Andy dodges Chucky and escapes the Aslyum heading home where we get a final confrontation between the Barclay’s, Mike and Chucky, which is damn good and ends with Andy burning the fucker with a badass response to his claim of being his friend to the end “This is the end friend”. This dosen’t quite finish him but a shot to the heart, with Mike to blame, kills the bastard.. for now. Now we’re all caught up, let’s get back to the story. 

Dipshit has called his friends to see Chucky and as seen above, Chucky is wondering why he shoudln’t kill the guy.. but Dumbass has a good point for once: his one friend is studying magic, presumibly at Durmstrang since Hogwarts dosen’t tolerate that kinda shit, and could help summon dr. death to see if they can fix his situation. Granted Death viewed him as an abomination and wanted nothing to do with Chucky, but he might let something slip or have no choice and it’s better than the nothing Chucky has to go on. Chucky gives exposition to Fuckwit’s friends and claims he killed Dr.Death in self defense, which isn’t entirely innacurate and Steaming Bowl of Elephant Piss suggests holding a seance. But one of his friends, Burt, who seems to be the only one to see Chucky for the red flag he is, calls an audible and Chucky grumbles off while they talk in private. 

As you can see, Fuckbucket sets the intellgence standard for his group. However their not SO obnoxious that it distracts from how horrible what’s about to happen will them will be. Except shitty shitty bang bang. Since It’s hard to remember all of the dead meets names i’ll be calling the girl Molly Ringwald, Burt by his name since he’s being sensiable, the moron drinking his own blood Edgelord, and Numbnuts MCGee my current barrage of creative insults. But yeah none of them take Chucky as a threat seriously, which is a nice little meta commentary on how most people think they could take Chucky, even though the guy is nigh unkillable, smart and fast and stronger, if not heavier, than him being a doll would make you think. Burt is the ONLY one here who seems to think harboring a serial killing doll is a terrible idea and thus the only one I respect. And “Most LIkely To Run Into A Wall” has the genius observation seen above where he asks “we��re helping him why would he hurt us”... when he’s already threatned to kill him and has no use for any of them once he has any info they can scrape up, with Burt pointing out even if their sucessful they’ll be responsible for more killing. Sadly he’s outvoted. Seriously while I do like Mangels, I question his opinon on teenagers and horror fans, especially given his long screed about the horrors of the world at the front of the issue and how his comics horrors don’t compare to racisim or homphobia, though the latter is a nice touch considering this was the early 90′s and some horror audiences could be homphobic morons, when the horror fans he portray are a darwin award of the decade winner, a moron who cuts himself not because he has serious issues with depression but to drink his own blood, a witch who goes along with their stupidity, and ... one likeable guy who’s coded as a wuss but is the only sane one here. 

So morons r us, plus burt and chucky, call Dr.Death’s spirit forth in a very moody and atmospheric scene. Naturally it goes GREAT. 

Dr.Death’s form dissolves terrifyingly and awesomely and our morons, and Burt,  are left, literally since they turned the light’s down in the dark> Burt is freaking out and has shards of crap in him thanks to all this.. couldn’t of killed fuckaround could you John? Burt is lead to the bathroom, while Fuckwit and Edgelord head downstairs, Fuckwit heading further down to check the breakers since the power is out for the whole house while Edgelord actually says something smart and wonders what they ALL shoudlv’e been thinking about: Where’s chucky? He has a response in this AWESOME looking panel. 

And here’s where the it dosen’t undercut the tragedy bit comes into play. Sure these kids are kinda dumb.. but most teens are, and they might not belivie he actually killed peope or even if they did, think they can take him as foolishly stated. They had their whole lives to become better people, and Mollly Ringwald and Burt seemed like decent enough people while Edgelord was probably going though a phase. Dum Dum Dumbassigan dosen’t really get a huge repreive but the point is NONE of them deserve to die and they aren’t dialed up to obnoxious, except assface, to be that unsympathetic. Their being stupid sure, but again MOST TEENS ARE or will at least be easily talked into doing something that all common sense says should kill them. And sadly in David, aka edgelord’s case...

Yeah it took a while but I had that gore warning for a reason. And he then decides to fill David with knives. I also stopped calling him edgelord because well. .look at it. The death is horrifying, well drawn and only made worse when Chucky decides to play “pin cushion” and fill him with knives off screen. His next target is sadly my man burt. He does complain A LOT and while a little whiny, given he’s covered in cuts, about to die and was the ONLY ONE here to excercise caution.. yeah he has a right to be. And then.. this happens to Burt in the bathroom...

Yup, THAT just happened. But I like it a lot.. it’s done with style, humor.. but not without horror either. A nicely done little parody. Molly, or wendy as the comic calls her, wonders around the Darkness for a bit.. and then finds David’s corpse.. which I own’t show as holy shit it’s as graphic as it is horrifying. And given what I showed you of his death earlier, that’s saying something.She tells an approaching Moron to stay back.. and well..

In order....... I am so angry at that first panel “I don’t know what happened here....” I DON’T KNOW WHAT HAPPENED HERE. 

BITCHCAKES, YOU LET A SERIAL KILLER INTO YOUR HOUSE WHO VANISHED ON YOU AFTER A SPOOKY GHOST TOLD YOU TO KILL HIM OR SUFFER THE CONSEQUENCES. WHAT IN THE STAR SPANGLED, CHERRY COATED MARSHMELLOW FUCK DID YOU THINK HAPPENED.  Second, while I get her logic, Fartnugget isn’t capable of working out basic sequence of events let alone killing a person.  And finally.. there is no amount of gifs that can convey how happy I am at that last panel. 

Wendy goes mad from the shock and Chucky, whos’ been lurking under the table this whole time with a Freddy Glove, strikes. 

It’s no “welcome to prime time BITCH”, but I think Freddy would dig it. Naturally, the glove dosen’t kill her but she snaps her neck.. and then chucky , of all things, calls the police. 

I’ll not explode with rage again btu the david’s dead line tempted me, as HE JUST KILLED YOUR FRIEND OF COURSE HE DID. As for his threat... Chucky is unimpressed. See this was his plan. At least once they stopped being useful. Gee who could’ve predicted that? Chucky has decided to frame ponytailed idiot for it, a real brilliant way of going about things, and to me WHY Chucky is such a threat. Even if you beat him, if you don’t have proof.. he still gets you locked up and then comes back stronger than ever. This ending also actually helps with a plot hole some might have with the series. 

Chucky dosen’t leave fingerprints. He MIGHT as he turns more human, bud odds are he dosen’t, thus it’s easy enough to frame whoever’s left.. though it was neat to see him do so intentionally. Truck Nuts breaks down, Chucky flees and we end on a teaser for the next issue as some mysterious Doctor has come to Karen Barclay with promises to help go after Chucky. But that’s for another day. For now our story is done. There’s also a page for a “Stuck On Chuck” contest, with the winners getting to be in issue 5. Just bringing that up so if I ever get there, I won’t have missed it. And with that we finally close out. 

Final Thoughts: 

This issue is excellent. I was expecting something slightly cheesy and not great, and while there are narmy elements: the commentary on horror being a media scapegoat seems out of place and as I made abdundantly clear on second read the lead is insufferable. His fate is still tragic, but he’s such a moron I can’t help but feel he brought it on himself, but his friends aren’t so obnoxious that you don’t feel bad when they do die, a mistake full on horror movies make too often. The kills are gory, as shown there’s some nice visual flair here and there, and chucky is drawn amazingly, especially for the time. There’s an awkward shot here or there but for the most part the artist really captures him well. This comic is a hidden Gem and if your a fan of the films or even just the first one, I strongly recommend it, or if nothing else as I haven’t gotten to the rest, this issue.  If you liked this review, feel free to like or reblog, and if you want one like it for the issue or graphic novel of your choice, just pm and slip 5 bucks into my paypal and i’ll get right on it as soon as the first week of november. Until then, i’m your friend to the end. 

[irelise]

the yew tree - end!

Erik has worked with Sebastian Shaw ever since Shaw rescued him from human experimentation when he was a boy. He is reluctantly enlisted to assist in Shaw’s newest scheme: seducing the wealthy and enigmatic Lord Xavier to claim his vast fortune. With Shaw posing as Xavier’s doctor, Erik goes undercover as Xavier’s personal manservant to convince him to fall in love with Shaw.

But Xavier has secrets of his own, and it isn’t long before Erik starts having second thoughts about the whole thing…

Featuring mysteries, hidden agendas, and a whole heap of master/servant tropes. (the handmaiden inspired au - no canon knowledge required

part one and two now on ao3!

beginning of part 3)

Warnings for this part: References to past abuse Rating: M Word count: 1986 Notes: I CAN’T BELIEVE IT IT’S FINALLY FINISHED!!! special thanks to akasanata, steph, kernezelda, and gerec for the support, couldn’t have finished this on my own! I’ll be editing over the next few days and uploading to Ao3 soon!

The next few days stutter past in an odd series of mismatched rhythms. Sometimes the hours drag by, agonizingly slow. Other times, Erik feels like he has no time to even breathe with the amount of activity unravelling around him. Shaw’s body is handled with minimal fuss; the police rule it as an accident, drug overdose, case closed. Shaw is quietly and ignominiously forgotten by the humans.

Not so in the mutant community. Shaw’s death had left a power vacuum, and much of Erik’s time is now spent wrestling for control over the various factions now embroiled in petty squabbles. The safehouse becomes filled with the constant stink of sulphur as Azazel teleports in and out, ferrying messages and occasionally delivering a mutant for Erik to glare into submission.

“It would be easier if I just take you with me,” Azazel grumbles after one such delivery.

“Not a chance,” Erik replies shortly.

He can’t leave. Charles is still recuperating. He doesn’t wake at all that first day, and Erik would have been out of his mind with worry had their thoughts not remained so closely entwined with each other. Charles’ presence remains a warm glow at the back of his head, faint but steady.

He’ll be fine. He has to be.

The second day is worse. Midway through the afternoon, Erik is attacked by a flare of stabbing pain, fierce enough to drive him to his knees. He clutches at his head and bites back a groan – it’s like someone is driving a pick right between his eyes, like he’s being stabbed, his skull split open–

The pain stops abruptly. Charles’ presence vanishes with it.

Fuck. Taking the stairs two at a time, Erik slams into Charles’ room. “Charles!”

Charles had moved from where he was peacefully asleep earlier. Now, he’s a small, dark shape on the bed, curled into himself, the blankets drawn over his head. Erik crosses the room in quick strides. “You’re awake?”

“Unfortunately.” The word is muffled by the blankets. “Migraine.”

And that was that. The pain is bad enough this time that Charles has forming words, and he adamantly refuses to link his mind with Erik’s again. When Erik pictures his thoughts reaching out for Charles, Charles only shakes his head and winces. “I can’t stop myself from projecting the migraine,” he says tiredly, the stubborn martyr. “I don’t want you to share it.”

Erik would have pressed the point, but something about Charles softens his hard edges, and he reluctantly concedes the point. It doesn’t stop him from climbing into bed with Charles, a stack of reports in his lap.

When Charles reaches out to lace their fingers together, Erik lets him, absently running his thumb over the knuckles of Charles’ hand.

Charles’ migraine doesn’t abate that day, or the next. It’s not until the morning of the fourth day Erik wakes to find Charles smiling softly at him. He’s pale, his eyes smudged with dark circles, but the sight of him properly awake and alive is sweeter than Erik had ever imagined. He lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding in.

“You look tired,” Charles remarks, and it’s just like him to fret over Erik when he was the one who almost died from holding onto Shaw. Erik can’t help but laugh, just a touch reluctant, and shakes his head.

“I could say the same.” His voice is rough. He almost stops there, but then the words come spilling out: “I thought I lost you.”

A frown ripples over Charles’ face, then smooths into a look of resolve. “Shaw had to be stopped.”

“…He did.” And Erik would have killed him at the expense of his own life, but Charles’… Charles hasn’t even had the chance to truly live yet. He had demanded too much of him, he sees that now. “But I should have been more patient. Spent more time planning. Made sure you understood the dangers. What we did was incredibly risky.”

Still, he thinks about Shaw’s plans to consummate his sham marriage with Charles, and something cold and ugly twists in Erik’s gut.

Charles is scrutinizing him, his expression thoughtful but impossible to read. “I wouldn’t have said no to more time spent planning,” he finally says. “But, Erik, you mustn’t feel guilty. My choices were my own.”

“I know you didn’t want to kill Shaw.”

Charles’ mouth twists. “You didn’t force me into anything I didn’t want to do. Death is always a waste, yes, but for someone like Shaw…” He looks troubled, but only for a second. Then he looks Erik squarely in the eye. “I’ve been in his mind before. I’ve tried to reason with him. His pride and envy run deep, deeper than you can imagine. He would have never let you live. If it was a choice between him and you…”

Pressing his lips together, Charles shakes his head. “I don’t regret it,” he says with a sense of finality.

For a few moments, they sit together in thoughtful silence, then Erik asks: “Are you really going to go through with it?”

Four days ago – had it really only been four days? – during their telepathic conversation in the car, Charles had resolved to stop running away from Marko. More than that, he had resolved to fight back. Erik would have loved to track Marko down and kill him, but Charles already has plans. Plans that Erik isn’t sure he approves of, if he’s honest, but he concedes Charles has the right to his own revenge.

Justice, not vengeance, Charles had said into their shared link.

You’ll be ruining him either way.

Good.

Charles’ plan is a simple one on the surface: let the public know about Marko’s crimes. Drag his perversions into the light, his cruelty and his inhumanity. Let the public be his judge.

In the present, Charles is frowning. “Uncle and his associates cannot be allowed to walk free, you’ve convinced me of that. But informing the public of their crimes won’t just affect me. The truth about mutants may come out. Are we prepared for that?”

Erik had spent much of the last few days asking himself the same question. He has an answer now. “We’ve spent too long living in the shadows, in silence and in shame. Enough.”

“Do you think it’s that easy?”

“No. But I’ll fight to the last drop of blood to defend our people.”

“And you’d do the same for me,” Charles murmurs, sounding awed. He must have read the conviction from Erik’s thoughts.

Erik inclines his head, not seeing the need to say anything further.

“To be honest…” Charles exhales slowly, visibly steeling himself. “No, I don’t want to do this. Not everyone is going to believe me, you must know that, and many of them will be – unkind. But you’re right. I’m tired of the shame, Erik. I…”

He reaches out and Erik leans forward, allowing Charles to settle his fingers against his temples. Charles bites his lip.

Images rush into Erik’s mind. Suddenly they’re back in Marko’s twisted library again, then in the labs, only this time Erik is seeing himself from Charles’ perspective. It’s disorienting, made worse by the way the memories seem to skip around like a broken recording, weighed down by Charles’ fear and shame and despair. Erik sees himself raise a hand, sees an ugly wreckage of jagged steel and torn pages, red splattering everywhere. Charles’ memories don’t shy away from the violence of the scene. But rather than horror, Erik’s fury seemed to have inspired something else in Charles, muted and wavering but warm all the same.

Hope.

 4. BUSINESS MOGUL KURT MARKO FACES ALLEGATIONS OF SEXUAL ABUSE AND TORTURE FROM HIS NEPHEW The reclusive young Lord Xavier of Westchester breaks his silence today, stepping forward to accuse his uncle and legal guardian…[…]…Police investigations of the ancestral Xavier estate have revealed the presence of numerous obscene materials…[…]…Lord Xavier has also levied accusations at multiple business associates connected to Marko…

***

The water is at the perfect temperature. His limbs loose and languid with a pleasant post-coital haze, Charles relaxes deeper into the bathtub, smiling in drowsy contentment at the noises of Erik splashing around behind him. Eventually, Erik settles down, and Charles makes a pleased sound as Erik cards his fingers through his hair, scratching against his sensitive scalp with just the right amount of pressure.

“Oh yes, do that again, please.”

Erik obliges, and for a few minutes everything else melts away except for the comfort of Erik’s body bracketed around his, hot water lapping against their skin. But then Charles feels the gears of Erik’s mind clicking, purposeful and precise.

“I was going over some reports with Azazel earlier,” Erik’s voice is carefully even. “I don’t know if you’ve heard yet, but Kurt Marko will be going up for trial soon.”

Charles winces slightly, half-wishing that Erik wouldn’t talk about Uncle here, but that’s a childish thought. “I’ve heard,” he says, every bit as carefully neutral as Erik had been. “Several of his associates may be facing criminal charges as well.”

He hears a splash of water as Erik shrugs. “Not that it matters. Most likely they’ll all be let off the hook.”

“No faith in the justice system, my friend?”

“None at all.”

Charles can’t even disagree entirely, but as always, he opts for the diplomatic approach. “Well, do let’s at least give them a chance to get things right. Whichever way the trial goes, Uncle will no longer be a threat to us.”

“How are things with the lawyers?”

“Everything has been finalised. The estate, the fortune – they’re all under my name once more.”

Vicious satisfaction flares in Erik’s mind, but the motions of his hands are gentle against Charles’ scalp. “Good.”

“You know, I’ve been thinking.”

“Oh?”

“You could put the estate to good use.”

Erik chuckles. His breath tickles the back of Charles’ neck, sending a pleasant shiver up his spine. “What would I need a mansion for?”

“Think about it,” Charles insists. He turns to face Erik fully. “We – you could make it a safe haven. For mutants. You told me before that you’ve rescued children before. The mansion could be a safe place for them, or for anyone injured or unable or otherwise unwilling to fight. You’ve been there, you know there’s more than enough room for everyone.”

Erik studies him with dark eyes. “And what will you be doing while all of that is going on?”

Trust Erik to cut to the heart of the matter. Charles looks down, watching the way rivulets of water run down Erik’s skin. “I haven’t quite decided yet.”

But he doesn’t want to go back to the mansion. Not yet, anyway.

Erik is still watching him, and Charles takes some comfort from the familiar, metronomic tick of Erik’s mind as he works through a problem. “I think it’s a good idea,” he says finally. “I’ll talk to Emma and Azazel about getting something set up.”

“You’re not doing it yourself?”

“No.” The tiniest hint of a smile is playing around the edges of Erik’s mouth. His mind is a dizzying, intoxicating mix of fondness and determination. “I have other business I need to take care of. Shaw had a rather extensive overseas network. Now that things are settling down here, I’d like to continue dismantling his empire.”

Overseas. Somewhere Charles will be unknown, just another anonymous face in the crowd. No reporters dodging his steps, no one watching him with the sort of greedy and scorn that makes him feel as if he’s being flayed apart.

“Is that,” Charles’ tongue darts out to wet his lips, “an invitation?”

Erik’s smile broadens. “Come with me, Charles.”

The thought of refusing never crosses Charles’ mind. He leans in for a kiss, which Erik swiftly deepens, and for the first time, Charles allows himself to dream of the future.

[hraishin]

prompt: "yeah i'm not sure about marriage" bits and pieces of a conversation cause a misunderstanding

First of all, thank you for this prompt love! It was really fun to make shwnwhjssh I ended turning it into some kind of fluff in the end and I hope you like this either way. Second of all, hopefully you like Cherik cause my brain went directly to them with this ha

Erik really never liked to eavesdrop on anything, he respected people's privacy as if it was some kind of unspoken law of his, and he didn't listen to conversations behind doors, didn't matter how interesting those conversations were — even in public places he tended to shut off any conversation around him so he wouldn't listen to things he didn't need to and because he also wasn't a fan of hearing the stupid things that came out of other people's mouths. And yet, there Erik was, outside Charles' study with his ear glued to the door as his boyfriend and Raven talked inside of it. All because of one loose phrase he had heard coming from inside the room, coming to him through the parted door.

"I'm not sure about marriage."

It had came from Charles' mouth, Charles' voice saying those words, and suddenly Erik couldn't just walk away or shut it out so he wouldn't be nosy, because something in those words made him feel nervous, made his stomach twist in an unpleasant way, and he decided that he needed to hear the rest of it.

"He's good to me but he's not what I want." Charles' voice said again, and Erik felt his stomach twist even more and some heavy weight being put on his chest, pressing down as if it wanted to crush it. "At least not all that I want, and I'm pretty sure I'm not all he wants either."

Erik's breathing stopped for a while as he started to think about what Charles had said, missing a few other words being uttered both by Raven and Charles. Of course Charles was all Erik wanted, he didn't understand how Charles could think otherwise when he made it clear everyday that Charles was all Erik would ever want and need — had he made it clear? Perhaps not, if Charles were saying those things —, but it stung deep to know Erik was not enough for Charles when he was so sure…

"There's just something about Logan. I love him as well, and I know he loves me back, but the two of them just fight over and over again, it makes me wonder if I'm reading everything right, which is ironic for a telepath like myself."

Erik didn't even take notice of how Charles' words sounded flat, as if there was no deeper emotions attached to them, because all of the sudden he felt desperate, picking only the details that he wanted to focus on. So Charles loved Logan. Charles loved Logan and Erik, because Erik was not enough. He thought about what he could do about it, the best course of action now that he knew it, and he wondered if fighting for Charles' love was a good option, if proving that he was enough for Charles would change something, or if just letting Charles and Logan be together would be better, less of a heartbreak if it was Erik's decision to leave — at least that was what he told himself.

He didn't even know that Logan loved Charles, it had never crossed his mind as a possibility. They were friends, yes; Charles had helped Logan out in the past and they grew close, to the point where Logan would so anything to keep Charles safe — something that Erik appreciated on the mutant, since his main objective was also to keep Charles safe and sound. Now, he wondered when it all happened, when they fell in love and Erik was suddenly not enough. Charles had said that Erik and Logan would fight, but that wasn't really true, was it? Yes, Erik liked bickering with the short tempered man and sometimes they would push each other around, but they never really fought for real, unless Logan's opinion on their bickering was different from Erik's all this time. which only made him feel stupid. Clearly he didn't know how to read people.

"If he asks me to marry him, I don't know what I'll do." Charles continued, taking a moment to sigh, and Erik clenched his jaw. He sounded truly distressed then with that sigh. "I don't think I can say yes. Not when Logan is here and not when I know I love the two men and couldn't bear living without one of them."

If he was honest, Erik hadn't even thought about asking Charles to marry him. They had dated for years now, shared a room and were closer than Erik had ever been with anyone he dated before the other mutant, but he never once thought about officializing it, mostly because he already felt like he and Charles were married even if they didn't wear the bands — even the kids at the school thought that Professor Xavier and Mr. Lehnsherr were a married couple. And yet, now he had an answer to a question that he didn't even ask: Charles probably would say no to him because he loved someone else. Because he wanted both him and Logan at the same time.

Some part of him wanted to leave and make the choice for Charles, to let him stay with Logan instead of sticking around, but he felt his heart hurting at the idea of leaving the other man behind, handing him over to someone else when Charles still loved him for all that he said, because, in the end, Erik loved Charles more than anything or anyone. Maybe he could live with it, with sharing Charles' love, even if the idea hurt him. Maybe it would hurt less than losing the man he loved. 

He was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn't even notice when the door fully opened to reveal him standing there, Raven holding the doorknob as she looked at Erik with her eyebrows raised, yellow eyes staring at him with curiosity. Behind his desk, Charles had a frown that seemed very relaxed for someone who had just found out that Erik had heard the whole conversation as he held his phone in his hand. That seemed to hurt somewhat more, the fact that Charles didn't care, even if part of his mind told him that there was something that wasn't making sense there. 

"Are you listening to our conversation behind the door, Lehnsherr? I thought I heard something by the door, and here you are." Raven asked, just as relaxed as Charles. "How much did you hear? Maybe you can help us."

"Everything." Erik's voice was weak, making Charles frown more, and suddenly there was the feeling of the telepath inside of his mind, trying to find out what was wrong, worry for Erik reaching his mind as Charles looked. He saw the moment Charles' eyes widened, pursing his lips as he waited for the telepath to say something about it. All Charles did was shake his head and grunt slightly.

"Not everything apparently."

Charles' voice sounded a little louder now, as if he was demanding Erik's full attention, mind brushing against Erik's and giving a simpler order, to focus, that Erik quickly complied. The telepath raised the phone he was holding, eyes going to the screen.

"'I can't talk much more, Scott is coming back with Logan and I don't want them to see this conversation by accident. Sorry for dropping this on you, Charles'. To which I responded with 'May I tell this to Raven since she already knows about this thing between the three of you so you can have more than one opinion on the matter?' and got a positive reply." his voice had that same flat tone from before when he read what Erik could only assume was a text, making Erik frown and keep his eyes locked on the telepath for a while more as Charles' blue eyes rose up to look back at Erik. "Jean sent those earlier, asking for advice from me."

It took a moment for Erik to understand what Charles had just said, and then a moment more, where he only stood there looking at Charles with some kind of a vague expression as his mind tried to connect every dot — and Charles seemed to realize that, probably watching the development of that in Erik's mind first hand.

Charles didn't love Logan and Erik, Charles only loved Erik. Jean was the one who loved both Scott and Logan, not Charles. And Logan didn't love Charles. Logan loved Jean — and maybe Scott? That was slightly unclear still, but he assumed it either way. Charles was Erik's. Charles wouldn't leave Erik.

Suddenly, he felt the conclusion settle in his mind and annoyance came right after that. This was exactly why Erik didn't like to eavesdrop on anything, to catch loose information and make assumptions without knowing the full story.

Next to Erik, Raven was looking at him with her brow furrowed, yellow eyes going from Erik to Charles as if she understood that there was something happening but couldn't figure out what.

"Well," Erik finally said, voice hesitant as Charles raised an eyebrow at him. "she should talk to both of them."

"She surely should. Talking does solve a lot of misunderstandings, doesn't it?" Erik pursed his lips at that, cheeks blushing despite himself, and he noticed a small amused smile start to appear in Charles' lips. "Raven, can you leave me and my idiot boyfriend alone for a second? We can text Jean later, she must be busy with her mission right now either way."

"Sure thing." the woman answered, gesturing goodbye and leaving the room, closing the door behind her and leaving Erik and Charles alone.

"Seriously, Erik?"

"I just-" he stuttered for a moment, sighing once he couldn't find a good explanation, walking towards the chair right across the desk from Charles. "Sorry. I didn't mean to listen all of that, I just heard you saying something about marriage and curiosity got the best of me."

"You really thought I would want someone else?"

"...Would you?"

"No!"

"Alright." Charles chuckled at that, looking both amused and in disbelief of Erik's assumptions. "But Charles?"

"Yes, love?"

"Would you marry me?"

Charles choked on his words for a moment, eyes widening and body moving slightly on his wheelchair as Erik only looked across the desk to his boyfriend. Erik saw the moment some kind of pleased and hopeful spark crossed the blue of Charles' eyes, and Erik couldn't help but to smile softly at it.

"Ask nicely and who knows…" but Erik already knew the answer to a question that he would definitely ask sometime soon.

[parkshan820]

hey hey may I request 16, 21, and 43? (mcsummers/halex)

Here you go :) Thank you for requesting! I hope you enjoy this <3

_________________________________________________________________

16. “Just shut up and kiss me.”

Hank knows he can stutter and talk a lot when he’s nervous.

It wasn’t really his fault, his brain just defaults and it sometimes moves so fast, that his voice is trying to keep up and he talks so fast, nobody can understand what he’s saying. But lately there is only one person that makes his brain go on the fritz and be on radio static whenever they were in close proximity.

Alex.

How the hell did he develop a crush on the teenage boy he would never know. He always had a thing for blonds but Alex can be just frustrating. Constantly calling him names, spewing insults but Alex can act odd as well. The blond was blushing like crazy when Hank had to get close for measurements to build his vest.

Hank has a feeling that Alex has the same feelings as him. So he was going to do something that could possibly be the stupidest thing on Earth, especially if he was wrong. With the way Alex has been acting and frequently visiting the lab, he was positive that Alex was going to come into his lab today.

He forces himself not to smile when he hears the doors open. It could be anyone, Charles and Raven likes to visit as well. He had to admit it was always uncomfortable most of the time when Raven visits. He managed to stutter out that she wasn’t his type. She was furious and started to yell at him about but Hank was quick to correct her by saying she was the wrong gender. Hank hates it when he has to out himself but thankfully she was okay with it.

After she apologized profusely of course.

He was quick to tell her it was his fault for not saying something sooner. Then she started to persist if he had any crushes on someone in the mansion and she manage to get him to confess that he had a crush on Alex.

She stared at him for a full second before bursting into giggles. “Alex really? How?” She had asked and he shrugs while blushing.

But now today was the day. He turns to see Alex and this time he couldn’t stop the smile. Alex stops and gives him a strange look. “Why are you smiling at me like that? You’re not usually excited when I come in.” He says, eyeing him warily and Hank rolls his eyes. “I guess you can say I woke up on the right side of the bed today.” He says and Alex snorts. “Or is there something you’re not telling me?” He says sitting down onto the stool and blinking his eyes as he leans onto his elbows.

Hank’s brain blanks as he watches Alex’s eyelashes brush against his cheeks as he blinks and turns away from his microscope. “Alex, can I tell you something?” He asks nervously and Alex nods. “Sure, you can tell me anything, I’ve been knowing to keep secrets very well.” He says as he stares up at him, waiting for Hank to tell him he wanted. “Well, I uh, just wanted to ask you if you want to go on a date with me? I mean you don’t have to, I completely understand if you say no.” He rambles and at first Alex looked shocked before he smiles amused.

“I mean who wants to go out with me? I’m a dork and I have a hard time reading feelings and-” He stops when Alex stands up and grabs onto his shoulders. “Hank, just shut up and kiss me.” He says and the brunet smiles, yeah he can do that.

He cups the blond’s cheek as he tilts his head up to capture his lips and Hank has to admit, this was the best idea he ever had.

21. “You knocked on my door at one in the morning, to cuddle?”

Alex was worried.

Charles and Erik decided it was best to get Hank off grounds and to have the day with him. That fresh air is what he really needs from being cooped up in the lab for weeks on end. Alex likes to think he does a good job getting Hank out of the lab twice a week. But he supposes Erik and Charles was right, Hank does need to go out make some friends.

But Alex couldn’t help but worry. It was late and when Sean came around at eleven, Alex had asked him if they were home yet. “No, not yet I’m afraid.” He says and Alex huffs as he flops back onto the bed.

Thankfully, he was finally able to go to sleep but he was sadly interrupted when there was a knock on the door. He groans and pulls the blankets over his head as another knock echo’s through and he huffs before sitting up. He leans over to flick his lamp on before he calls the person who is on the other side of the door to come in. He raises an eyebrow when the door opens and Hank stumbles in. “Hank?” He asks and the brunet grins as he straightens up. “Alex! How is my wonder, gorgeous boyfriend?” He asks and the blond blushes.

They were also just in the beginning of a relationship.

“Uh I’m good, Hank did you just come home?” He asks and he couldn’t help but smile amused when Hank finally flops onto the end of his bed. “Yeah, we had a great time.” He slurs and Alex swears he can smell alcohol on him. “Hank are you drunk?” He asks and the brunet giggles. “Yeah, but I only had like two beers.” He says and Alex snorts because it sounds like his bozo to be a lightweight.

“Okay, you need to get some rest. Was there a reason why you came to my room?” He asks gently and the brunet hums when Alex lightly runs his hand through his hair. “Can we cuddle?” He asks and Alex chuckles. “You knocked on my door at one in the morning, to cuddle?” He asks, honestly surprised.

“Hmm I love you. I want cuddles.” He whines and Alex giggles as he rolls his eyes fondly. “Yes Hank, we can cuddle and I love you too.” He says before pulling the covers back and helping Hank take his shows off and his jacket before guiding him under the covers. He lays back down onto the bed once he was sure that his drunk boyfriend was comfortable and Hank immediately slides over to lay his head onto the blond’s chest.

“Goodnight Hank.” He says before flicking the lamp off. “Goodnight baby.” He mumbles, dozing off quickly.

43. “Squeeze my hand if you can hear me.”

After apocalypse, a lot has happened.

When Jean and Erik were fixing the mansion, both Jean and Charles have sensed something within the ruins and Scott seemed to know what it already was. He was the first to dash off towards the mansion and start looking around.

Hank had already thought he lost the love of his life and he couldn’t help but feel relieved when they pulled Alex out of the rubble.

The only problem was, he was in critical condition. He had to be on a ventilator because his lungs have collapsed and he’s already been in a medical induced coma for six weeks. Hank never left his bedside, he couldn’t. He had to be there, he was so scared that the second he left him, Alex would flat line. Scott was there all the time as well, the younger brother wanting and hoping to reconnect with his older brother. It was a little awkward at first but Hank has learned what Alex was like when he was younger.

He learned that Alex was so kind and funny. That he was always open to others, socialize without any difficulties with random strangers and he sounded like a whole completely different person back then. Alex was still the same, he just grew up, had to deal with prison and had to hide who he was behind this tough bad boy act in order to feel safe outside.

Right now it was just him and Alex alone in the room. Charles and Erik have discussed the possibility that Alex would never wake up but Hank knows him. He knows his Havok. Alex will wake up on his own time, the brunet just hopes it was very soon or there was going to be conflict between two older men and himself. How can Charles and Erik give up on him so soon? Alex was so important to their team that they haven’t realize how powerful and strong Alex’s mutation is yet.

“Baby you have to wake up soon. Just give me one more day darling, can you give me that?” He asks as he holds tightly onto his boyfriend’s hand. Were they still in a relationship? Hank had foolishly let Alex accept the draft and went to fight in Vietnam. He should have told him to stay, stay with him forever. He sniffles as he presses a light kiss to his knuckles.

They removed the ventilator yesterday, it really brought Hank hope. If his body was healing itself and his lungs were strong enough to breathe on their own and remain stable, that means Alex was one step closer to waking up. “I love you so much. Just please squeeze my hand if you can hear me.” He pleads desperately. He will do anything to see Alex’s clear blue eyes again. Do anything to see him smile and laugh again, anything just as long as Alex stay here and be alive and just awake.

He sighs in defeat as he places his forehead against the unconscious blond’s arm. “Just one more day baby is all I ask for.” He whispers. He struggles not to cry as he fights to accept the fact that they were probably right. That Alex would never wake up.

Then suddenly, he felt Alex’s hand squeeze his.

Send me a number and a pairing!

[jadoue1999]

The X-Men and the member they lost - Chapter 2

Summary: Erik finds out he has a son. But life doesn't like seeing him happy, so it made sure he was already missing when he learned about his existence.

Previous parts: chapter 1, chapter 2, chapter 3, chapter 4, chapter 5, chapter 6, chapter 7, chapter 8, 

Chapter 2: Erik and his rotten luck with family

It had been a week since the 70s episode had aired and no new episodes had shown up since. That left plenty of time for thinking and pondering on what was this WandaVision show. After many theories, they had conceded to Hank’s idea. It definitely seemed like a glimpse into a parallel universe. The mystery of Peter’s implication still lingered in the air. Charles wasn’t sure if he really wanted the answer. This all-powerful woman with the same surname as the speedster could have decided to do anything with him. He had yet to show up anywhere; they had combed the background for signs of him, but they had found nothing. The team went as far as to call it a misleading clue, but he didn’t let himself believe that. It was too strange to simply be a coincidence. The telepath was in his office one night when Raven entered.

“Is this a good time?” Wondered the shapeshifter. The professor nodded his head yes and she closed the door behind her before taking a seat. While he didn’t look into her head, he could sense her determination and hesitation about what she was about to tell him. Finally, she took a breath, “we need to tell Erik. About Peter.”

Erik. How could he have forgotten?

He was the boy’s father after all, even if he didn’t know it yet. Raven had told him as she filled him in with what had happened when they were fighting Apocalypse. She had mentioned Peter’s confession and how close he came to tell his father the truth. He had kept silent since, deciding that no one was in the right to inform the metal bender other than his own son. But now Peter was missing, they had to get him back. Erik needed to know.

Charles agreed with her and they were off to Erik’s room. The man was reading a book in front of the fireplace, seemingly enjoying a moment of peace and quiet. He turned to them as they opened the door.

“Charles. Raven.” He greeted them as he closed his reading. “What’s going on?”

The professor wheeled himself forward to his friend, he knew he had to break it to him gently. “It’s Peter,” he started. The man looked at him, his thoughts echoing his confusion as to why he was bringing up the speedster. “He’s missing. Has been for about two weeks, but I wanted to make sure before telling you.”

“Okay,” Erik replied after a few seconds of silence, “have you found anything?”

He could feel Raven’s frustration growing as the metal bender barely showed any concern. Charles didn’t blame him; the man had only seen Peter for an hour at most in the last ten years. He felt the same level of concern to the boy as he would with any other students at the school.

“We have found something, we’re not sure what it is, but it’s definitely linked to his disappearance.” He paused, trying to see if Erik was starting to understand. He continued when he found no reason to believe so. “Do you remember when he broke you out of prison?” The man nodded. “And when he came back to help fight Apocalypse and was injured in the process?” Another nod, more hesitant this time. Erik clearly didn’t get where he was going with this. “What I’m trying to say is that he’s a very special person, I hadn’t seen his type of power before meeting him and Hank found him fascinating as well. Can you believe he agreed to break you out just for the challenge? Quite extraordinary if I say so myself. But my point is, Peter’s-“

“He’s your son, you moron!” Snapped Raven, earning herself an offended glance from Charles. “What? You clearly weren’t going to tell him with all that rambling.”

The pair looked at Erik, awaiting a reaction. Had they not been aware of the situation, they easily could have believed that he was doing an aneurism. The man didn’t speak, but the metal in the room started shaking. Raven called out to Erik to try to calm him down, but her voice fell on deaf ears. Only when Charles shouted at him to stop that the man gradually calmed down.

“I... I have a son?” He seemed beyond shocked as he finally acknowledged the truth. Charles nodded yes and met Erik’s gaze as the man spoke once again. “What did you gather about his disappearance?”

“Don’t you need a moment to collect yourself and take in the situation?” Wondered the telepath. The man’s thoughts were all over the place, filled with shock and worry. It was obvious he needed some time alone. “Erik, please take some time, join us when you’ll be ready.”

The man didn’t protest as Charles and Raven exited the room. They closed the door and met up with the team, informing them about the situation.

...

Erik, in all his life, had never considered himself lucky. He had lost his family in Auschwitz and was then used as a lab rat by Shaw. Once the evil man had been taken care of, many years later, he had then accidentally paralyzed Charles, one of his few friends. Then he was wrongly accused of killing the president and imprisoned for nearly a decade until he was freed. By his son. But of course, he didn’t know, because life was just like that with him, and he had gone on a quest to show the world the true power of mutant kind. That, of course, ended horribly; so, he went into hiding. He had built a family, a happy one even. He truly had hope for a better future, but life loved to prove him wrong. Madga and Nina had died, and he had been chosen to be a horseman for a god. He had, in his grief, accepted and it led to Peter having his leg broken. He felt sick to his stomach as he recalled the panicked look on the young man’s face, his eyes pleading him to do something. He didn’t know, why hadn’t he known? The boy had almost died, and he did absolutely nothing.

How could he even consider himself his father when he had already failed him so much?

Still, he might not even get a real chance to properly know him now that his son had gone missing. Erik definitely wasn’t a lucky person.

He looked at the fireplace that had previously given him comfort and suddenly felt like the heat was choking him. He paced quickly through the mansion; the corridors were empty due to the late hour. After getting outside, he decided to walk around the lake. The little waves created by the soft breeze always helped grounding him. His Nina always loved the water. They had installed a bird bath because she had requested that the surrounding animals should always have something to drink when they came to visit her. He wore a small smile on his lips as he sat on the grass in front of the lake and sighed.

“Hello, my darling,” he told the water. “It’s already been a year since you and your mother left. I hope you’re happy wherever you are.” A curious bird landed next to him, looking at the man with puzzlement. Erik smiled, perhaps Nina lived on in all the creatures she loved so much. He held out a hand to the small animal, not really expecting anything. Surprisingly, it flew towards him and landed on his finger. Erik felt his heart grow warm as the bird let him pet his back. The soft feathers felt so similar to his daughter’s hair. “You might not believe it, but I just discovered that you have a half brother. He’s older than you, but I’m sure you would have gotten along well.” The bird chirped at his words. He stopped stroking it, “but I’m afraid he’s gone for now. What do you think we should do?” The bird looked at him with its small eyes and stretched its wings, taking off in the sky to regions unknown. Erik dared a hopeful smile as he watched it fly away. He looked at the sky, contemplating the stars before getting up. “Don’t worry Peter,” he told the wind, “we’ll find you.”

...

The moment he had gone back in the mansion, he was intercepted by Charles who called him to his office. The wheelchair bound man had a few files open on his desk. He motioned Erik forward as he spotted his friend.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better, I take it you want to know what we’ve gathered so far?”

Erik nodded, of course he did. Charles took the files with him and led them out. They entered the room containing Cerebro, he was about to ask him their reason for being there, but he was interrupted by his friend.

“Before we start, I want you to keep an open mind. We don’t know what exactly is going on.”

Erik frowned but agreed to the conditions, nonetheless. The bald man pressed a few commands on the board and the screens lit up.

Whatever he was expecting to see, it wasn’t this. He had expected government videos showing his son dragged out of a car, him being taken or even tortured. He certainly hadn’t expected to see a sitcom that somehow changed decades every episode. It seemed completely irrelevant, but the few cuts and creepy details kept him from dismissing the whole thing as a joke. The third episode was particularly strange. Fear creeped into his veins as the woman menacingly approached her friend. He wasn’t sure what was worse, the cut that showed nothing or the possibilities of what could’ve have happened to the poor woman.

When everything was done, he turned to the telepath. “What does this mean Charles?”

The man sighed, putting a finger to his head for a second before looking at him again. “I’ve called the others; they’ll be here soon.” He turned to the screen that showed the rolling credits. “From what we’ve gathered, this is a parallel universe. The woman, Wanda, seems to either control this world or is trapped there as well.”

“But what does this have to do with my son? As far as I’m aware, he’s never met this woman.” Their discussion was interrupted by Jean, Scott, Kurt, Ororo, Hank and Raven coming in. They had probably been woken up by the telepath’s call, judging by their yawns and sleepy eyes. After a few seconds of questioning from the tired young adults, Charles motioned them forward and opened one of the files he had with him.

“This is Peter’s file, I hadn’t really thought about reading it, since he’s past high school age, but Wanda’s comment made me curious.” He pointed to his personal information, it contained his name, address, and schools he had previously attended. Nothing seemed amiss. “I did some digging and it turns out that ‘Peter’ isn’t his real name. It was changed when he was very young.” He flipped the page, showing a government document authorizing the name change. The team looked at themselves in shock as they read ‘Pietro Maximoff’.

“So, what does it mean?” Chimed in Hank. “Sure, he has the same name as the woman’s dead brother, but there’s no way they’ve ever met.”

Charles scoffed in amusement, “yes, you’re right. But I searched through various archives to find more about him, and I came across this.” He pulled out an old newspaper clipping. It read: mysterious death of a teen leaves the police baffled.

The article had one picture, it showed a teenage girl smiling, like any other child her age. Erik looked at Charles, demanding confirmation about his suspicions. The telepath nodded, “this is a picture of Wendy Maximoff, Peter’s twin.”

The group was silent for awhile when Jean suddenly gasped. “Oh my god,” she covered her mouth in horror. “I once asked Peter why he didn’t like celebrating birthdays and he told me how he used to have two cakes but only had one now.” She looked towards Scott and Kurt. “I- I assumed he was being greedy, but the loss of his twin could explain it!”

Erik didn’t listen to the group’s reaction; he was too busy processing the information he had just learned. How could he miss so much of his son’s life? He should have been there to help him and make sure that he would be alright. Instead, he was too focused on getting revenge and he had missed nearly thirty years of Peter’s life. And with his disappearance, it unfortunately was very possible that he’d miss more. Everyone’s rambling was interrupted by Cerebro lighting up again. Erik watched nervously as the front of a house appeared. The woman and her husband were trying to get their babies to sleep, something they were apparently not keen on. They continued trying, Wanda even tried to use her magic on them, but, surprisingly, it didn’t work. Their neighbor came in, saying how she had heard them and could help. Then it became strange as Vision suddenly suggested that she shouldn’t help. Agnes looked at Wanda for instructions, asking if she wanted to restart the scene. Erik didn’t have to look around to know that everyone here was confused. Wanda brushed it off, to the confusion of her husband. All of a sudden, the crying stopped; the twins were asleep. Except they weren’t in their cribs. A slight panic settled in Erik’s stomach; the loss of a child seemed too dark for a show like this... right? Strangely enough, the twins weren’t missing, they had aged up to five. The screen cut to the theme song.

“Are the children mutants?” Asked Raven, uncertain about the change of event.

Charles has a pensive look to his face, “I’m afraid I cannot say, for now.”

The episode continued, with the twins adopting a dog. Curiously, Wanda seemed tired of hiding her powers, going as far as using it in front of their neighbor. The most peculiar thing happened when the two parents settled that the twins were too young to keep their dog. They suddenly aged up again, now ten years old. Erik had to give it to Charles, this show definitely wasn’t just a coincidence. Were they looking at a new concept for a mutant prison? It certainly seemed like it.

The scene changed to show the husband’s workplace, they were installing computers and people around him were trying to figure out how to make it work. After some corny jokes, an email showed up and the whole room read it together. The X-Men watched Vision wake up his co-worker who seemed to panic about contacting his father.

“That’s mind control,” gasped Jean, “I know that panic, it’s horrible.”

The man screamed about a woman in his head, probably Wanda, and became more and more agitated. Vision zapped him again and, like a switch, he was back to Norm, the friendly co-worker. The group watched in stunned silence as it cut to Wanda and her children. Billy was training the dog and seemed pretty good at it. The twins excitedly got up, wanting to show their father but Wanda told them he was at work. The conversation then turned into a classic “family is forever” speech; telling them how they’ll always have each other, no matter what.

“Do you have a brother, mom?” Asked of the boys.

She looked off in the distance, obviously wondering how to explain her brother’s situation. “I do,” she said, “he’s far away from here and that makes me... sad sometimes.”

Erik didn’t have time to dwell on the possible meanings of her words as the dog suddenly ran out of the door. The twins and Wanda ran out, chasing it. They lost sight of it. Suddenly, the redhead looked up at the sky in anger and told the boys to continue look for Sparky without her. The scene continued with the boys walking alone.

“What do you think she meant by far away?” Asked the boy in green, Tommy, if he remembered well.

His brother shook his head, “I don’t know, but how cool would it be to meet our uncle?”

The boys giggled and continued calling for their dog. Seeing how the episode was significantly darker than the other ones, Erik didn’t have much hope for the poor animal. Turns out he was right; it had eaten a poisonous plant and the boys were heartbroken. After some strange comments about bringing back the dead, they were back at the house. There was tension between Wanda and Vision. He told her about what happened at his work, accusing her of being the cause.

“You can’t control me the way you do them.”

The woman tilted her head to the side, clearly challenged by her husband’s words. “Can’t I?”

There were scoffs of surprise in the room as the credits suddenly rolled. The android didn’t let that stop him as he pointed out the problems with the world, they lived in. He went on to say that he had no memories of his life before the show. That was puzzling, did this place erase people’s memories to guarantee their good behavior? Vision then pointed out the lack of children, something Erik hadn’t noticed but was unmistakable once you realized it. Wanda sat on the couch, trying to explain why she wasn’t controlling anyone. Suddenly, the doorbell rang.

“I swear, if Agnes comes in at that moment, I’m going to lose it,” whined Scott.

“I don’t know,” replied Ororo, “usually she just lets herself in.”

The doorbell rang a second time and Vision watched Wanda with accusations in his eyes as she walked to the door. She opened it and was immediately shocked at whoever was at the door. The android asked his wife for the identity of the guest with suspicion. The camera slowly panned over to the person, only showing to back of their head.

Showing his silver hair

The suspense didn’t last much longer, the camera showing that it was indeed the missing speedster. Quiet gasps were heard as Peter walked towards the woman.

“Long-lost bro get to squeeze his stinkin' sister to death or what?” His voice echoed on the walls of the room.

“Pietro?” He nodded his head and the two shared a hug. It lasted a few seconds and Peter pointed to Vision as he walked in.

“Who’s the popsicle?”

The audience laughed at his joke and the screen faded to black, leaving the team stunned as the credits rolled.

“We have to go get him,” said Raven. “I don’t think he’s safe with her.”

Hank nodded, “I think I can find a way,” he pointed to Jean, “I think you could open a gateway to wherever Peter is. I’ve adjusted the machine to focus on the frequency. If you really concentrate, I’m sure it’ll work.”

“Alright, Raven, Erik and I will go,” decided Charles.

Kurt stepped in, “you might need a quick way out, I can help.” He shook his head as Raven and Charles were about to protest. “I’m the one that noticed he was gone; I want to be there when we bring him back.”

The professor agreed and told them to go pack whatever they’d need and to be back as soon as possible.

***

Jean put on the helmet and closed her eyes in concentration. She held out a hand to better focus her power. Nothing much happened, but she frowned her brows with renewed efforts. Flickers of orange light made itself known, slowly gathering together to form a small circle. She grunted in efforts and the portal grew bigger. She opened her eyes which were now glowing a fiery orange and she let out a screech. The gateway was now big enough for them to go through. They quickly said their goodbyes, Charles leaving Hank in charge for the time he was gone. The four shared a look and took a determined step forward. Passing through another dimension definitely felt strange. Nothing seemed solid as they were suddenly free falling.

They landed on the grass. Erik quickly helped Charles back into his wheelchair and took a look around. There was a military base with soldiers that stared at them with dumbfounded faces. He could hear an alarm, probably trigged when they came in. An older man that seemed to be an authority figure started shouting at them, but Erik didn’t hear him. All he could see was the sign that indicated that Westview was in front of them; and the force field surrounding it.

***

Notes: I have to say, Erik talking to Nina is probably my favourite part of this chapter. I've also made up a scene of the boys talking together based on the image of them walking alone that was in the SWORD base in WandaVision. Next up: The x-men meet Hayward (Erik doesn't like him) and learn about who Wanda Maximoff is.

[fifiliphaser]

Don’t Give Me Flannel (Cherik Ficlet)

[AO3 Version]

“You’re my roommate who’s super cute and it’s the middle of the night and you’re cramming for your exams in your flannel pajamas and disheveled hair and it’s becoming increasingly hard for me not to kiss you” AU

So, yeah, here we are. It was supposed to be a shorter one-shot, around 1,000 words or so, but I sort of took that prompt and ran with it, because apparently I cannot write something without any world-building in it. But it was a pure pleasure to write, even if I should've been working on my other WIPs. *sigh*

Anyway, I hope you'll enjoy this short—yet still somehow almost four times longer than intended—ficlet.

It's not beta-ed, just edited and proofread by myself, so you know the drill—and I'll be really grateful for any valuable remarks!

“Can you finally go to bed?”

Although Erik’s voice is hoarse, his annoyance seeps through very clearly. As a result, the question sounds more like an order, despite it not really being Erik’s intention. Nonetheless, he’s too groggy to care.

Generally, Erik Lehnsherr has always prided himself in being quite a heavy sleeper, capable of sleeping through anything and everything ever since he remembers. Even when he was just a few years old, he would occasionally wake up to hear about the storm roaring through the night, which did little to disrupt his sleep. His mother used to joke that the bomb blowing up nearby wouldn’t manage to jolt him awake. The manifestation of his powers in the early teenage years disrupted his routine for a while, but he managed to go back to it by the time he started university, and this time he hasn’t let anything get in the way of getting a healthy amount of sleep.

Willing himself to fall asleep has never been problematic either, even with a lot of background noise. Unfortunately, it seems like the light is his ultimate weakness. He’s been struggling to doze off for quite a while now, but a small lamp still kept alight turns it into a truly challenging feat. Facing the wall that his bed was pushed to, his eyes closed shut, he’s desperately trying to force his mind to finally shut down, having already given a shot to counting sheep and focusing on his breathing. Sadly, without the comforting darkness to drown out any unwanted late-night thoughts, he is unable to succumb to sleep. The worst thing is, he’s slowly growing more and more desperate and the thought to just ask Charles—the very culprit behind his current predicament—to do this for him keeps lingering at the forefront of his mind.

A quiet groan escapes his lips as Erik turns around, towards the rustle of paper behind him. Charles Xavier, his roommate, the fellow student who also happens to be a mutant, is sitting on the carpet between their two beds, surrounded by an array of textbooks and notes. He is, by far, one of the very few people whom Erik tolerates and who somehow tolerate him in return, which is still somewhat unbelievable to Erik—how such a person as Charles, so unbearably idealistic and impossibly kind, would like to as much as simply be in his presence continues to escape his comprehension.

Nevertheless, here they are, Charles spread on the floor and Erik failing to fall asleep. Overall, Charles is quite a nice roommate, certainly much better than the previous ones that Erik was unlucky to live with. (Or maybe it was them who were unlucky enough to cross his path, Erik wonders sometimes.) Although a chatter, Charles doesn’t bother with meaningless conversations and he has a quick wit, which is even more prominent over the chessboard that they sometimes use to play, all of which make him a pleasant enough companion even on the worst of days. His bright big eyes, with their remarkable blueness only accentuated by the flannel pajamas he is currently wearing and with his floppy hair falling over them, make him look rather appealing, as a quite impressive group of both male and female students can corroborate. Despite that, Charles’s favourable looks are no more than a pleasant addition, or so Erik tries to convince himself of.

He cuts that train of thought short, though. They are friends, even though this label hardly conveys the depth of their bond. Charles may be the closest person Erik has ever been to, other than his parents, which makes him just about the only family Erik has left. To ruin the most meaningful friendship in Erik’s life due to his irrational sexual urges is just unthinkable. So he proceeds to do what he’s been doing for weeks now, burying the budding attraction deep enough that the telepath won’t see it.

“I can’t fall asleep with the light on,” he grumbles, seeing that Charles has hardly reacted to his previous question. When that doesn’t work either, Erik continues, his brows furrowing, “I have an exam tomorrow, too, you know.”

Charles finally looks up at him, and his eyes are sparkling in the warm light of his bedside lamp, his liveliness evident despite the dark circles under them. Erik shouldn’t find that sight so endearing, and yet, he’s mesmerised all the same, almost forgetting his own annoyance.

“Yeah, sorry,” Charles says apologetically, gazing down at the notebook he’s just been leafing through. His lips, even redder than usual, what with the way Charles continues to chew at them, curl into a little self-deprecating smile. Erik can’t help but trace their movements when his friend adds, “Just… five more minutes.”

It’s clear how tired Charles is, leaning on his hand which is perched up on his lap and visibly fighting off the urge to let his head drop on his notes. Erik rolls his eyes, irritated with Charles’s insistence even more so now that he sees his exhaustion. It may even explain why Erik’s own tiredness feels so profound; if Charles is on the verge of falling asleep, his shields are prone to get weaker and sometimes he starts projecting his feelings, as if his mind was trying to get rid of the sense of fatigue simply by pushing it away.

In truth, Erik doesn’t mind it as much as he thought he would. He minds feeling more tired than he actually is, that is, but not the mental contact itself. It never fails to surprise him, how much he actually enjoys having someone brushing against his thoughts. Of course, he believes that all mutants should be treated equally, regardless of the nature of their mutation; and yet, telepaths are often facing quite a lot of resentment, even within the mutant community itself. For many, it is one thing to pass someone with a tail or a pair of wings on the street without batting an eye, and something else entirely to have a stranger overhear your thoughts—something intimate and meant to exist only for you to listen.

Erik can understand where such reservations might come from, even though he himself doesn’t view telepathy as so problematic. In fact, the anti-psionic bias seems to be chiefly the product of ignorance—there aren’t that many telepaths, most of whom not even powerful enough to fully enter someone’s mind without touching that person or at least being in a very close proximity to them, but people nevertheless are afraid of feeling so exposed, with more than unfavourable portrayal of telepathy in the media as manipulative and exploitative only feeding their fear.

Not that telepaths are actually interested in reading or controlling everyone’s minds; the fact that is obvious to anyone who has actually met a telepath. It would be exhausting, after all, to listen closely to every thought that comes your way. Not even mentioning the fact that a lot of people think they’re incredibly interesting and worthy of attention, while, in actuality, their thoughts are mundane and their secrets nonsignificant.

Erik has crossed paths with enough telepaths to know that. Besides, if telepaths truly did always listen to one’s every thought, Charles would already bloody well know how annoyed Erik has been for quite a while now.

“You’ve been cramming it for—” Erik reaches out with his power, tugging at the magnetic lines surrounding him, and feels the hands of Charles’s watch which is still wrapped around his wrist.

The soft hum of its metal is pleasantly familiar. Charles takes it off only to sleep, and its constant presence allows Erik to sense him, even if his friend is out of sight. It never ceases to surprise Erik how comforting he finds it, the possibility to feel Charles’s warm skin against the stainless steel of the watch anytime he wishes, wherever he is.

Erik reads the hour and groans resignedly, “—for six hours straight. You know everything that you need already.”

“I have to ace it,” Charles mutters, his gaze fixed back on his notes.

He bites his lower lip, again, and it’s truly infuriating how captivating it is. Erik spends entirely too much time looking at those plush red lips of Charles’s, wondering distantly if they’re as soft as they look and if their redness would be even more intense after a thorough kiss…

It’s getting ridiculous. He shouldn’t allow himself to think such things, especially not about a telepath.

“Did you even touch the tea I made you?,” Erik demands instead, resisting the temptation to ask another question that sits at the tip of his tongue, one that is as improper as it is stupid.

A quick glance at Charles’s nightstand confirms what Erik has already suspected. The green mug with a cat and a silly chemistry pun printed on it is standing exactly where Erik put it three hours ago.

Charles looks up once again, his lips rounding in a way that is both adorable and infuriating. What’s more, the sudden movement makes his hair, ruffled from the way Charles runs his hands through them every now and then, fall down his forehead, and Erik barely battles the urge to reach out and gently brush them away.

“Oh,” Charles breathes, his wide eyes making him look like a puppy whose owner has just scolded them for something that they are absolutely guilty of. “I’m terribly sorry, my friend,” he says sheepishly, averting his gaze. “I’ve got too immersed in all of this.” His hand flies around over all the books, the sleeve of his slightly too big flannel pyjamas tumbling down his forearm and falling over his wrist.

Why Charles insists on sleeping in that atrocious thing, whose only saving grace is its nice blue colour, remains a mystery to Erik. Their dorm room is relatively warm, even in winter, and yet Charles seems to be perpetually cold at night, sleeping under a pile of blankets all year long. Erik is reluctant to admit it, but it worries him that although the summer is about to start, Charles’ nightwear hasn’t yet changed. If he’s so cold, perhaps there could be a way to warm him up a bit. Which is hardly the best line of thinking for now, because the only solutions Erik can think of involve things that he’s pretty sure Charles wouldn’t want.

A small shudder runs down his spine, and Erik has to clear his suddenly dry throat, forcing his mind to think about something else—anything else, really. He ends up recalling the details of a few cases which will most probably prove to be useful during tomorrow’s exam, trying not to wonder how it would be to wrap his arms around Charles and pull him under the covers.

Frustratingly, even repeating in his head what he already knows by heart isn’t tedious enough to put his mind to sleep.

“You can’t keep doing that.” Erik’s voice sounds annoyed even to his own ears, more so than before.

“I know, I know…,” Charles says under his breath, clearly having completely recovered from his previous mortification.

“You should’ve started earlier.” Erik’s tone might be a bit too harsh, certainly more than he intended. He can’t help himself but be frustrated, though, what with everything that watching Charles raise his hand and gently tap his fingers against his lips does to Erik’s insides.

Charles sighs, burying his face in his hands. “I know that too.” Erik can barely hear him, his voice muffled by his fingers, but he can tell that Charles must be annoyed with himself too. “Just… this isn’t half as interesting as the project I’m working on,” he explains, with an edge to his tone.

Erik rolls his eyes, though there’s hardly any malice behind the gesture. “I can believe that, but it’s getting annoying,” he says a little less sternly, despite his patience seriously dwindling.

“Sorry.” But Charles doesn’t look so sorry as he grabs one of the textbooks and opens it, back in that study mode of his.

Taking a deep breath, Erik barely refrains from raising his voice, his irritation only worsened by the worry about Charles’s awful sleeping habits. “You know all of that. Go to bed already.”

Charles’s thoughts are clearly far away from their conversation when he mumbles, “Just… let me finish—”

“Charles, you’re overtaxing yourself.” Erik’s tone is yet again harsh, though this time he can’t keep worry out of his voice.

The telepath doesn’t even respond, his whole attention at the textbook on his lap. Despite his immersion in the text, Charles’s head continues to be drooping, his back leaning heavily on the frame of his bed, and Erik doesn’t know what to do anymore to make this man finally get some sleep.

It’s still somewhat bewildering to him, to care for another person’s well-being so much that he starts completely brushing aside his own. It’s not like he is uncaring, but ever since his parents passed away Erik hasn’t allowed himself to get too close to other people. His wounds haven’t properly healed yet, and the thought of losing anyone else is so unbearable that he’d rather isolate himself than face the prospect of going through that again. Yet, he finds himself growing more and more fond of Charles with every passing day.

Although everyone seems to love Charles—that goes without question—Erik isn’t like everyone and a creature of very little trust, so he can’t be easily swayed into liking someone, even if confronted with the smoothest of flattery. But Charles isn’t like anyone else either and hardly an overconfident and snobbish smooth talker that Erik thought he was upon their first meeting. It took more than a couple of heated discussions during quite a few classes and the mutant rights club meetings and one memorable party, however, for Erik to start appreciating Charles’s seemingly endless enthusiasm, his infuriating idealism and the admirable faithfulness to his own ideals, and, most of all, his unconditional kindness. 

As a cynic and a firm believer in the need for separation between baseline humans and mutants, Erik naturally would never agree with Charles’s integrationist ideas, though deep down he has to begrudgingly admit that such an approach might be beneficial in some instances. Besides, it’s not his fault, really, that Erik can’t resist that warm laughter, the playful quirk of that red mouth, and the mischievous glint in those hauntingly blue eyes. If he didn’t know much about telepathy, he’d think that this endearing charm is just a trick, but he knows better. Charles really happens to be just as charming, as if having the magnetic personality of an opposite pole, whose call is quite hard for Erik to resist.

Which doesn’t make Charles’s late-night study sessions any less irritating.

Erik must do something to make Charles finally go to sleep, and if the Charles way of talking and negotiating doesn’t work, it’s time for the Erik way. He slips from under the covers and jumps to the floor.

“Erik, give it back!,” Charles shrieks the second Erik snatches the book away from his hands, though his protests are much weaker than usual.

“I need sleep and so do you,” Erik says stubbornly, hugging the book to his chest. “So, just put it all away, or I’ll do that for you.”

Charles looks at him for a long moment, the exasperation in his expression mixed with something else, something odd. There’s a heaviness to his gaze that makes Erik shift minutely, slightly uncomfortable under the scrutiny of those brilliant eyes.

“You’re insufferable sometimes,” Charles says eventually, although he doesn’t sound resigned, only mildly amused.

“You’re the one to talk,” Erik snaps back, albeit good-naturedly.

Signing once again, Charles just shakes his head, a small smile creeping on his lips. Then, he fixes Erik with a stern gaze.

“I’ll go to sleep when I finish this chapter,” he says seriously, and the determination that is colouring his eyes suggests that he won’t step down this time.

Erik purses his lips and regards him for a moment, contemplating the offer. The chances for negotiating conditions more favourable for Erik are scarce, and now is not a good time to pick up a fight. It seems best to relent.

“Okay, I’ll take your word for it,” Erik decides, slowly releasing the book from his grasp.

Charles quickly goes to grab it before he can even let go of it, the telepath’s fingers brushing against Erik’s forearms and leaving a trail of the pleasant tingling sensation behind. Erik can’t help but sit here transfixed, the plush carpet soft against the bare skin of his shins, as Charles goes back to studying. There’s something enthralling in watching him in his element—because as exhausted as Charles is, there’s still so much passion in the way he’s practically devouring what is written on the pages before him. His eyes are alight again, and his lips are moving—lightly, captivatingly—as he’s quietly repeating the crucial tidbits of information.

Erik has never wanted to kiss someone so much in his entire life.

Although the book is once again laying open on his lap and stealing all his attention, Charles looks up from it, apparently having noticed Erik’s dumbfounded expression. “You can go back to bed now,” he points out lightly, his brows drawn in mild confusion.

“Not until I tuck you in first,” Erik responds before he has time to think much about his words.

He doesn’t even get a chance to start feeling self-conscious, however, as Charles is seemingly taking it all in stride. “That won’t be necessary, my friend,” he says, giving Erik an amused look, the corner of his lips—so distractingly red—rising in a half smile, and Erik finds it hard not to stare at them.

Instead, he narrows his eyes. “We’ll see.”

“You’re unbelievable,” Charles snorts and glances down at the book, his fingers finding their way back to his mouth.

The tip of his thumb begins to slowly trace the outline of his lower lip, back and forth, drawing all of Erik’s attention to that one delicate motion. He cannot help but be hypnotised, wishing against his better judgement that he could reach out and replace Charles’s fingers with his own. To map those lips with his touch, to explore the softness against his fingertips…

Erik looks up abruptly, his eyes boring in the ceiling. Breathing out, he almost groans, but refrains from doing so not to distract Charles. It’s really of no use, allowing himself for such mental escapades. This absurd infatuation has already made Erik’s life miserable enough, there is really no need to add fuel to the flames.

Except, he finds himself unable to stop. Everytime he sees Charles, hears his warm laughter, feels his fingers brushing against his own arm, is confronted with a clever and spot-on counterargument during their arguments, or witnesses a particularly cunning move during the game of chess, Erik can’t stop his mind from being consumed yet again by the thoughts of his best friend. It’s truly a miracle that Charles hasn’t picked up on those thoughts yet, and for once Erik is grateful for Charles’s strict moral code.

Nonetheless, Erik knows he has to put an end to it. It’s just a silly crush, after all, nothing worth putting their friendship on the line. No more foolishness from now on—he’ll just focus on getting through his studies, pushing all the other matters aside.

After some time, which seems to have stretched from mere minutes to long hours, Erik abruptly hears Charles close the book. He drops his gaze in time to see his friend put it down and then proceed to gather all the rest of the study materials into a pile.

“Okay, I’ve finished, happy?,” Charles says, pushing the pile closer to his bed. “You can tuck me in now.” He looks up and momentarily furrows his eyebrows. “Erik?”

Somehow, the earnest look of those beautifully blue eyes makes Erik’s resolve snap. So much for an end to all the silliness. Before he can stop his traitorous lips from moving, the question is already leaving his mouth, the one he’s been longing to ask for so long.

“Can I kiss you?”

There’s a moment of stunned silence, as Charles’s eyebrows slowly rise, disappearing underneath his dishevelled hair. He’s still for what feels like an eternity, and Erik can feel the tendrils of the telepath’s thoughts retreating from his mind, folding in on themselves, which can’t possibly bode well.

Panic begins to rise in Erik’s chest. With his breath quickening, he does his best to slip on a mask of indifference over his face, hoping against hope that Charles hasn’t seen anything damning in his mind, especially not any of those lewd thoughts he’s been having lately. But before dread can consume his mind like a wildfire, Erik sees Charles’s expression soften and then the telepath is leaning in, stopping only when his face is a few mere inches from Erik’s.

He’s so close that Erik nearly goes cross-eyed, Charles’s breath ghosting over his lips. Erik remains frozen, waiting for his friend’s response, anticipating and dreading it in equal measure. He sees that Charles’s eyes are flickering all over his face, filled with… Is it excitement, or rather nervousness? Regardless, his look is clearly inviting, so Erik lets himself hope that maybe his friend does want the same thing.

“Yes.”

For a second, Erik isn’t sure if he has heard it correctly. It was barely a whisper, and Charles agreeing to such a ridiculous request sounds too good to be true. It soon becomes clear, however, that Erik’s ears were not playing tricks on him when Charles gives him one last smile and leans in farther to close the distance between them.

Erik’s eyes close on their own accord, and it takes a heartbeat for their lips to meet. It doesn’t feel like a particularly world-changing moment—or maybe it does, just not in the way Erik expected. It’s not like a lighting strike, turning his world upside down and igniting a raging fire inside of him, but it rather feels as if long-lost puzzle pieces finally fell in their proper places.

Kissing Charles feels like coming home.

His lips are just so soft, pliable against Erik’s, the warmth of their gentle touch spreading through Erik’s whole body like little electric shocks. The kiss is rather chaste, close-mouthed; even so, Erik can feel the air between them slowly changing and starting to crackle with the kind of tension that has barely reached the surface before. The wave of excitement mixed with lust that swiftly encompasses his mind proves that he’s not the only one who notices it.

Erik senses something else, however, something much deeper and warmer, as his hands find their way to Charles’s face. He runs his fingertips over the expanse of smooth skin, gently stroking Charles’s cheeks, and he can feel the warmth rising there. He can’t help but smile against his friend’s lips, feeling an affectionate nudge in his mind in return.

And then Erik hears it, a soft murmur permeating his thoughts.

I thought you’d never ask.

If anyone's interested, here's the mug Erik was reffering to (I found it funny, don't at me ^^').

And I'm considering perhaps writing more in that 'verse, so if any of you has any ideas, prompts, or requests, I'll be more than happy to oblige ;)

(Generally, I have more in store for Cherik, especially after Dark Phoenix (we'll always have Paris, after all), but those works are also getting longer than expected. Still, I'm cautiously optimistic about finishing them in August.)

[masterofmagnetism]

Promises

Who: Erik and Charles @burdenedxtelepath

Mentioned: Raven @mysteriousmutant, Jean @jeanelcinegrey, Scott @firstxman, Lorna @mistressxfmagnetism

Where: Charles' office at the Institute

When: 3 weeks after the Raft.

What: Erik finds himself in Charles' office, as he has several times in the last few weeks, attempting to quiet his mind with a bit of silent companionship from his oldest friend. Instead, he ends up accidentally revealing far more than he means to, leading Charles to question his mental state.

TWs: child death referenced, PTSD, hella survivor's guilt

AN: This was a very informal, spontaneous thing in our DMs that was supposed to be fluffy and got surprise angsty, so forgive any formatting errors, etc.  Not the most polished thing, but gives some important context about where the boys are at headspace-wise, these days.

CHARLES: He's well aware that Erik is probably up to something. Either that, or this was yet another bout of him acting strange, which seemed to be a thing as of late. However, without access to his thoughts, Charles couldn't draw any definitive conclusions other than maybe Erik was acting on his supposed feelings. It seemed like a stretch but who knows? Even so, Charles scoots over a bit, making room on the sofa. Crossword puzzles were a means to keep the mind sharp and with those he struggled with initially, Erik was more than helpful. "Since when do you like crossword puzzles?" he finds himself asking. And it doesn't go without notice that a certain someone is affectionately leaning on him. At one time, it would have been nothing for him to turn his head slightly and press lips to the top of his head but you know, old habits. Not like he could anyway.

ERIK: Being around Charles was calming, and Erik found himself gravitating back to the Institute more and more often, these days--if only to sit in the man's office and chat with him about nothing, or even just sit in silence while the man worked. Tonight, Charles caved quickly to the request, letting Erik up on the sofa next to him, and within a few minutes, Erik had found himself leaning on the man's shoulder without even recognizing that he'd started, quietly helping with the crossword puzzle. 

Charles' question was answered with a soft hum. "I used to do them to help me learn English. Haven't needed to do them for a long time, nor have I had the time, but I enjoyed them," he explains, closing his eyes but continuing to work on the puzzle from memory in his head. "Seventeen down is 'abnegation.'"

CHARLES: He had never minded Erik's presence. Aside from Raven, he was another who often provided the best company, even if he was silent. But sometimes there was little need for words. The aura of simply having another nearby was often good enough to temper one's mood. As was the case with Erik... some of the time.

He quietly scribbles down another word ( a six letter word meaning cold --- chilly ) then moves on. "That's quite the brilliant way to polish one's English and one's vocabulary in general. Crosswords have never been the easiest." He stares down at the final word, frowning. Eventually he fills in the clue with Erik's answer thus completing the puzzle. "Ah, you were right. Two heads are better than one sometimes."

ERIK: Erik cracked open his eyes to peer with satisfaction at the completed puzzle, before letting them drift closed again. "We make a good team," he said quietly. They'd had disagreements often, but usually arguing their case with the other had made both of them stronger rather than weaker. And they'd been able to coordinate on the most important things.... At least before Cuba.

"I liked Sudoku puzzles, too. You know I've always been a numbers person." Though he was damn good with language, too--multiple languages were in his mental toolkit, from years of traveling. Even before he'd gone to Vinnitsa, he'd known German, Polish, Yiddish, and Hebrew. His language skills had only grown in years since.

CHARLES: "We're capable." He leaves it at that as he sets the newspaper aside. The Bugle, per usual, was full of nonsense save for Kara's pieces but at the least the crosswords were still decent. "I haven't done one of those in a long time, but I imagine you'd be a hair better at those than myself. When time permits, I've mostly been doing word searches. Hard to find time to do anything a bit more challenging. Still, they help me relax. I've been needing it lately. Something's...off about me. Can't quite place it either."

ERIK: Erik very nearly snorted. If that wasn't relatable, he didn't know what was--except he, unfortunately, knew exactly what was 'off.' "You seem stressed," he agrees, "But that's to be expected, after the Park." Weren't they all stressed in the aftermath of that? "Don't worry about the safety of the Institute, Charles. The students who leave may need certain things, but anyone here is safe, I promise you that." His new field around the school helped, but it was common knowledge at this point that the school was under the protection of almost all of the known Omega level mutants, and Erik had done his best to make clear it wasn't worth the fight when they couldn't even manage one or two Omegas on their own.

"I haven't had time to do puzzles in... months. And I think I've gotten perhaps sixty hours of sleep in the last three weeks," he admitted.

CHARLES: Perhaps it was only the stress giving Charles these anxious feelings. It was as if he was in a constant state of black cloud, fearing something awful was going to happen. And Erik was right. Charles had no idea what kind of force field surrounded the school now, but he knew deep down nothing could happen to him while within these walls. He just couldn't shake the feeling that something was going to happen. "You're right. Perhaps it is the stress that has me feeling anxious. After the Park, it's hard not to be overly, obsessively cautious. I think we all are."

60 hours of sleep in three weeks. . . That wasn't enough at all, but Charles knew he couldn't say much on the matter. He slept okay when he took his meds, but resting was another story entirely. He hasn't felt rejuvenated after a night's sleep in quite a while but he hid it well enough. An early morning swim here or there. LOTS of coffee and tea. He managed. They both did. They had no choice when so many people looked to them for guidance. "I don't think it gets any easier from here. I think... it's always going to be like this --- hard."

ERIK: The telepath's words sent a pang through Erik's chest, and a response was slipping off his tongue before he could think better of it, one hand reaching for Charles' and stopping somewhere between them, instead. "No. No, it won't. We deserve peace, Charles. We will have it. One way or another." Charles' way, which looked more impossible than ever, or the way that was slowly taking shape on the walls of Erik's apartment, the war would end.

It had to end.

His next words, in contrast to the earnest and confident ones of just moments before, seem almost desperate. "I'm so tired, Charles," he breathed out against the man's shoulder.

CHARLES: This. This was the kind of scene no one was allowed to see. Because if they saw Charles doubting himself... If they saw Erik as someone other than hardened symbol driven by hate, the facade would end. The glamour --- the enamoration with them both --- would cease to exist. And Charles could not let that happen. Eyes close briefly and with some difficulty, he manages to use his telekinesis to get the bolt turned, locking them inside. While he didn't need people walking in seeing them on the couch, doing crossword puzzles was harmless. This? Not so much.

"Just because we deserve something, doesn't mean we will actually get it. I've hoped for peace my entire life but with each passing day... I just... don't know anymore. I cannot abandon my principles, but I am not a fool either, Erik. I see the same things you see sometimes. My dream... seems much farther away now than it's ever been."

There's a moment's hesitation before he shifts on the couch, arm folding around Erik, pulling him close. Another piece of the puzzle falls in place, giving Charles a better idea of Erik's head state. "I know," he answered quietly. "We all are. This... being you... I'm certain it has to be overwhelming at times. The entire mutant world looks to you to be their strength and their guide. That's a large rock upon your shoulders, but you mustn't let it wear you down."

ERIK: Erik let himself be pulled closer, finally let a hand come up and rest at Charles' other shoulder, fingers toying with the collar of his shirt absently as he tried to rein back in the surge of emotion.

"It's not just... not that." And it's not the Phoenix, either. This exhaustion has been settling in his bones for decades, heavier with each passing year, and now its source is stronger than ever. "All I wanted was safety, Charles. I wanted the kids to be safe from those who would see them lying dead in a park for existing. I wanted my children to dread university applications, not the same things I feared. That was all. And they keep taking them from me," his voice cracked, "And call me radical for not stepping aside and letting it happen."

His hand tightened on Charles' shirt, and his next words sound fervent. "Never again. They will not take another one of the kids, Charles, they won't. They won't take any of you again. I'll make sure of it. I can't--."

CHARLES: Charles knew something was up with Erik the moment he landed in the school yard weeks back. He had fed him some line about wanting to see him, but Charles knew better. There was more to it than that and while he expected Erik to eventually give him bits and pieces, he never imagined the other male had so much bottled inside --- at least in such a manner that it would unfold in his lap like this. Charles bit his lip, fighting to keep his own feelings together. Both of them couldn't be near sobbing over the sorry state of this universe. Otherwise, where was the comfort in that?

So no, he would hold it together, never minding the fingers toying at his collar. Erik's words had so many layers to them, but what stung the most was the bit about the uni applications. 'His' children were not just Jean and Lorna and anyone else he'd taken up under his wing. It was the child that was taken away too. She never got a chance to grow up like the others and Charles knew from his own experiences within Erik's head, that Anya would always be in there somewhere. "I know," he whispered. "A man doesn't do the things that you do if their heart wasn't in it for the right reasons. We both do what we do for these children, and the sake of them having a better future. It's just... We're still ONLY human Erik. Mutants we may be but our bodies eventually wear and tear like any other human's. We can't..." His own voice cracks but he swallows it and pushes forward. "We can't be expected to save them all. God only knows we want to, and it tears us apart when we lose someone but... we're tearing ourselves apart in the process. What good are --- what good are YOU --- if you don't... you need time to yourself, Erik. And you don't... you don't need to place so much of our future on your shoulders. It's not your fault... it's not... you can only do so much so please... don't..." He touches his cheek. "We're fine. We'll be alright."

ERIK: Erik is still leaning against his chest, but the metallokinetic seems miles away, now, even with the light brush of Charles' hand against his cheek, which just a few weeks ago would have had the man's undivided attention. "No. No, I should have been there, at the Park, I could've been there. I could've helped the Underground before Lorna had to bring down a building, before she had to wade into a war she didn't want. We're better, I'm better. I should be able to save them. I can, what good am I if I can't--"

Eventually, the steady brush of Charles' thumb against his cheek, the increasing heartbeat he can feel is what draws him slowly back. He's making Charles upset. He doesn't want to do that. He let out a slow breath against the man's chest, let the vice grip on the man's shirt loosen, smoothed his collar back down. "...Apologies. It's... I'm fine."

It's as much of a lie as Charles' own assurance, but he can do little else, coupled with a rare apology that's likewise inadequate.

CHARLES: "No," Charles says firmly, despite his own wavering voice at times. "None of us could have predicted that the park would turn into such a fiasco. Had any of us known, we'd have counted our loses or sent more people. But that one is not on us, as much as we'd like to blame ourselves. Even Jean will tell you... Something about that night was off. We've always been so careful, but I know the truth will come out in time. Someone betrayed us Erik. Or set us up. And when we find out who it was, god help them."

His fingers lightly trace along Erik's chin and the parks of his cheek he can feel but eventually Erik loosens his grip, breathing slowly. Charles wasn't convinced he was okay, but he also doesn't want to sound pushy either. So he doesn't question it. Instead, he keeps gently touching, content to let the silence wash over them for the time being.

It's not your fault... he thinks to himself, but he knows it may be a while before Erik sees it that way. Such is the burden of a leader.

ERIK: Erik hummed his acknowledgement of the words about the Park, but it was clear he didn't buy it. No matter the cause, no matter what had happened, he should have been there.

But instead of arguing the point, he simply remained silent, letting Charles' touch and warmth start shepherding the uncharacteristic outburst of emotion back into the back of his mind. And he was tired, in so many ways, so eventually he started to doze off, body and mind pushed to exhaustion.

CHARLES: This was beginning to get worrisome, and not at all because he was tired of having moments with Erik. That couldn't be farther from his mind if he willed it. No, this was about how Erik was making a habit of retreating to the telepath's office --- as if to hide from the world or shield himself from it. It troubled Charles to no end, especially since Erik had never been the type to hide out. Nothing thrilled him more than being out in the open, taunting their opponents with his antics. But lately he seemed aloof, even when gazing at him with those doe eyes of his. He seemed more guarded, but at the same time a switch would flip and his feelings would fall all over the place. It practically gave the telepath whiplash. And then... to cap matters, he would fall asleep; doze off just mere moments after a conversation. It only confirmed Erik's confession that he wasn't sleeping well, but Charles wasn't buying that it was only the Park incident keeping him awake at night. Something else was up, but he guessed he should leave it be. After all, at least Erik knew that despite all that's happened, he could still come home and find refuge from all the day's bothersome drama.

Charles eased himself off the couch, his legs letting him know he hadn't much time left to walk. But he was quick, placing a blanket over Erik and tucking him in while he slept. Charles promptly made his way to his chair, deciding he'd better get in it before he has an accident. He watches Erik for several minutes, his heart feeling rather heavy. Only when his phone beeps would he snap out of it. It was time to finish his lesson plans and then later, to bed himself...